Roosters and Quebec

I never expected to watch hockey in Guatemala. I dont particularly give a shit about the game back home, but my heart nearly skipped a beat when I walked past a bar showing the Montreal Canadians game.
A couple of Guatemalan men sat at the bar, yelling along with the television, in Habs jerseys. I was excited to see something familiar.
I sat down and begun talking with the men at the bar over bottles of Gallo, the national beer pride of Guatemala. A friend who backpacked through Mexico told me of Gallo before. It was the cheapest beer they could buy when her and her friends were broke and living off noodles. I associated cheap with awful, but it is Guatemalas premium domestic. Its also the Countrys most powerful company. I soon learned that the majority of wealth within Guatemala was consolidated to four companies. Gallo, a concrete company with a name I cant remember, the Central American equivelant of KFC, Pollo Campero, and another beer company, Brahva, which is only allowed to exist because the President married into the Gallo family.
The Gallo was cold, and pleasant. It felt good to have beer and conversation again, even if that beer had no flavour to speak of. I would continue to drink Gallo, almost strictly because of their logo, a saucy, cock-a-doodling rooster, that looks both obnoxious and proud.
The men and I spoke in broken Spanish. I ate an almost boner-inducing quesadilla. When I told them I was from Canada, the men pointed to the corner. Several Quebecois backpackers sat plunked in front of a TV, watching the game silently. Feeling excited at the sight of first fellow countrymen, I went to talk with them between periods. They didnt share my enthusiasm. Although they spoke English, two of them looked at me and nodded before returning to watch the Spanish commercials. Apparently some Quebecois give even less of a shit about Anglophones when abroad.