Convalesce

I´ve spent the last couple days convalescing from my sojourn. Mainly because apparently exercise induced asthma can be nasty and last for days. LAME. Though I feel a bit of a ponce for saying, yah, asthma, thats what did me in. But it did. So suck it asthma. Hacking cough, malaise and all! LAME. So I go for walks, go lay down, watch HBO, wander, take some pictures. It´s not a bad existence. But you know i had to let go of my schedule which included: yoga, giant market shopping place, village tour (though i tried and tried on that front)...Also I´ve made contact with my tour people. No hot guys. Bummer. So You know I¨m not going to go to our free salsa lessons now. Forget it. And then there´s that- oh you´ve climbed mt. kiliminjaro? and cycle to work everyday? And then the I´m traveling for 6 months down through south america sort. There´s always someone there to trump you. I won´t ever win and my whole being feels anachranistic to everyone else I meet. But no matter. I kick ass anyway. (I´m full of self validations today).

In the meantime I´ve observed a quincinera, wedding preperations, a funeral, a couple processions, and loads of anticipating of the Christmas... Life is happening all around me and I don´t feel so much of a tourist bubble. Maybe my copious amounts in the internet cafe listening to soccer and n.american music. Tomorrow AM we leave for the COPAN RUINS... something like 11 hours? You know I´m totally psyched. Ok, I am about the ruins, but people the horror of that kind of day travel. Luckily I swiped a book and Harriet the Aussie already promised she´d lend me her ipod... game of cards anyone??

See you on the very long side of tomorrow (or the day after.) One can never be sure.
So`´long from ANTIGUA.

The Devils at my Back

I thought, 2 hours, climb volcano, possibly difficult, a challenge certainly, but that I could take my time, like traversing a park. But oh not so. I thought as we took the near vertical first ascent, I am the weakest link, as the only older outofshape person elected a horse, and the rest of the crew outfitted in patagonia, and card carrying members of ¨adventure´ magazine... am I in real trouble here¿ Yes. 2 hours and 20 minutes straight up with a few dips and turns. A pack of devils. A man at one with the mountain. Dogs and the driver with the silver shot gun.

Possibly arrogance and a certain plucky ambivalence got me to the volcano, but it was my pride than Jesus and his angels that got me to the top. Fucking volcano!

The rest of the tour quickly took the lead and I kept waiting for the pack horses to pass me, but no they were waiting to pick me off. At first I thought this is insane, the masses of horses pushing up the path with me, then I got angry as they literally nipped at my heels and the pace was hard enough to drive my pulse into my ears. And each time I stopped the men on the horses said, ´´horse for you? It´s easy? No, time. Up in no time. Taxi. Taxi. Taxi.´´ But I shook my head and soldiered on. ¨Are you spanish¿´´ They asked. ´´taxi?´´ NO. I said. But as it became more difficult and the pace more furious, the group got to rest, just so I could catch up. And being in the front to set the pace became impossible no matter what the guide tried. Soon everyone knew my name, they became intermittently concerned, ´´Are you ok? Take deep breathes.´´ And my now BFF english friends Lee and Lucy kept an eye on me but mostly abandoned me to the pace. And the more the guide and the men on the horses saw me stop to catch my breath, and the more I refused, the men on the horses began to jeer at me and taunt me with every step firmly placed over root, between rock, up, up, up into the mountain we went. ´´Mi Amiga, horse for you. It´s easy.´´ They laughed. Jeered. Laughed again. And I looked back at one point and saw one of the mens faces lit up and scrunched in a sneer. And then I knew what they were.

And why I could not, no matter what, accept.

A woman named Kerry descended from her pace, and yelled at them, she doesn´t need your bloody horse! ´´You can do this,´´she said. I nodded, sucking in air through my nose and out through my mouth. The older woman on horseback began to talk to the men on horse back in broken spanish. ´´This is no good, not nice.´´ They said, ah meuy bien. Taxi. It´s good. It´s easy.

But Kerry continued to yell at them and I stayed the course until near the summit it was just me in the quiet, of the wind rushing down the mountain, and Kerry at my ear, you´re doing a good job. Just one foot in front of you. Don´t look too ahead. I nodded. I said, ´´I´m catching my breath.´´

And at the plateau before the push onward onto the volcanic slope. She said, you made it. You made it! Look. And she spun me around. And I saw God´s gloriousness as I stood level with another volcano and above the clouds, and the sun setting. And I thought, I could cry. I could hug Kerry. But it was when i turned to the left and saw my shadow, even with me on the slope that a few tears might have dropped. And the mist of the mountain went rushing down.

I came to the group and felt bad for being the weakest one there, or maybe the strongest for my persistence... and how much without struggle they could never know. And the guide in broken english said something about being positive. And I seemed to have earned his respect. I nodded and smiled.

I thought this is far enough, but we kept walking, one foot in front of another through now difficult volcanic ash and rubble. And the wind nearly pushing us down and off and the sweat bringing a chill on this otherworldly atmosphere. I stopped. I started. I kept on. I saw the lava streaming down the mountain. This is far enough I said. I stopped. I took pictures. But I kept on over the rocks, and kicking up dust around my firmly planted feet. And I saw the group in the distance and thought I did not need to go there, but I did. And kerry came rushing toward me and said, you made it! I´m so glad you came! Did I want a marshmallow. Come, come warm yourself by the fire. As the lava pushed and cooled and tumbled down.

The challenge back down was nothing. (And that was in the pitchdark with a minimaglite)

What do you mean climbing Volcanos makes you dirty!¿

oh and the moon... that too.

Target on My Forehead¿

I woke and did not shower. I did that last night, but anyway, it was not what you´d call hot anyway, so I don´t know how motivated I will be to actually bathe. I might. We´ll see. But I digress, yesterday I was completely ignored, and today I´ve been approached by scads of brightly colored women and children, ¨something for your mother, your friend... your enemy?¨ They say with smiles, knowing looks, and they pull from their slings loads of bangles. Promising real stone. I don´t know what compelled me but I bought what i´m sure is NOT tourquoise for an outrageous sum of $15. And after entering a shop where everything had tags and lulled me into a trance of no fuss, no bother, no hassling me, I was suckered again by a woman named Theresa who said her mother wove this and it took 3 wks... Well even if it did or not. And that she would charge me less but she must eat. Mmhmm. Whatever. I just don´t know what suddenly made me so approachable. i must put back on the armor of no nonsense and bother. None of this merchant interaction. I was not even nearly as tempted inTurkey and those people are hard'core. Enough is enough. I´ve already had to track down an ATM... and my own citibank does not take mastercard, which mine is... left me all sorts of confused, and left to track down a MC on the otherside of town, where I ate at Pollo Companero... chicken and fries can be got anywhere. Which was much less healthy than the steamed vege, grilled chicken i had for dinner... They lost power a couple times and no one seemed to mind... and now I am as Pen says, off to the volcano!

Off-Track

Did I not love you enough¿ I asked my mp3 player. But it did not answer. For it had slipped away quietly sometime in the morning, and I had not seen it since. A thorough search of my pack yielded only a camera chord and a mocking empty space. Retracing all my steps would be futile and so gave it up reluctantly as an offering... to sit constantly in silence or be forced to engage people. Forlorn I went to bed early and disavowed yoga in the morning. I sat staring into the peach space above my bed for an hour.

Ironic since as I was walking home last night I ate at a place called ¨Fusion¨ ... which was completely empty, and it lead me down the spirally thoughts of life as a solo traveler. Exactly how comfortable am I with myself¿ At what point does the alone become lone. As it was I was already taking great risks with my life by, as I discovered 1/2 way thru a particularly tasty lemonade with sodawater, eating icecubes. I shook my head at my great recklessness. I finished the lemonade.

And I walked back to a coffeeshop that is apparently run by christians. Though the place was closed for a church service. They are my people, so there´s no shunning them, but I was suddenly conflicted over finding so many english speaking brethren all at once. I could in a moment, have all my questions answered and probably very easily have people to speak to for the next couple days or at least good breakfast lunch suggestions. And I could´ve stayed for some songs and coffee. But all I said was, I´m feeling restless. So I went back to as discovered, sans mp3 player, and wondered if I should´ve stayed.

The first Wander, by SCHU

Woke up probably not as awake as I should´ve been as I was still rubbing sleep from my eyes as I turned the wrong way and ended up in a random corner of town. I sat consulting the small map and set my goals by a fountain... one of which was get money, and I hate doing anything of the kind, but after roaming around for an hour I made an attempt because I was getting hungry and what if I wanted to buy things... it couldn´t be about plastic all the time. And who knew where the atm´s were anyway not i... and the banks themselves seemed the only places with armed guards and impeccably clean glass windows.

While unable to actually look around as much as an absent minded professor, due to deftly navigating cobblestones and treacherous sidewalks with 2ft drops, I did manage to finally take some pictures and get to the central part of town. And of course myself among them, all the notfromhere types stick out, as I ran across a discreet subway and mcdonalds... I disavowed them and soldiered on, inhaling noxious car fumes and finding every few blocks ruins of what seemed like really brilliant cathedrals and then there´s the buses and the mix of everytype of person. Generally ignoring and sometimes briefly glancing in my direction. Why does the girl seem to be consulting that tiny black book all the time... and what is she looking for exactly. I am not quite sure, but I am proud that I have been surviving on cliff bars, found a lovely garden restaurant and had an omlette, purchased a bottle of water, a rosary and 5 postcards. You see it´s the little successes on your first day that are truly extraordinary... have not died of thirst, found internet cafe, did not get hit by errant car, may hopefully find the hotel again. Day by day I will count myself more and more victorious. One can only wonder what adventure awaits me for dinner.... (feel free to give me photo assignments and requests.)

1 QUETZEL

I have a quetzel in my pocket and I don´t know how I got it. Maybe it was my grandmothers. But I don´t remember her going to guatemala. I think, this is the first thing. I am actually here. What have I done?

But there are all these signals telling me what for and why. Life would be more stressful if there weren´t signs. I followed signs out of the airport, to my driver, who was a small sea in a storm of signs and noise, and realized I´d forgotten one pretty vital thing- a language guide. I´ve been making due but still the complex guilt of not knowing enough is always with me... at least I can think of what my answers would be in french. But we made due. He has a large family, this is his work. Did I want to sit in front¿ Sure. Was it a fancy black private car¿ No. A huffing and puffing dolmush that clunked into gear through the mountain roads. Leaving GUA city though I saw no less than 12 shell gas stations, 4 burger kinds and a handful of mcdonalds. Citibank, toyota and 2 pollo camponeros. I said, to myself, i will not be disillusioned, even though this looks suspiciously like the backwaters of Los Angeles and the trees arch up into the night through the secret valleys, hinting at a difference, surely I am someplace else entirely.

Despite a late plane all went according to plan. And no actual thought was required until this morning... i need to find a bank, i need to find breakfast. It was dark, and a young guy came out and swept up my pack and just like that I was in a quiet, tiled courtyard with palms and fountain bathed in moonlight. He set my bag down in my box of a room and was gone. As if all the town was in bed and it was 2am. In truth only 11. A meager 2 hour time difference. And just like that i was left with myself. No alarm-clock radio-tv combinations, and a toilet I had to sit sideways on. The walls were stuccoed as if this had always been the outside of someplace and the large orange tiles seemed to echo the sentiment. A suspect tank of water sat in the courtyard and I took my first daring step because I was so thirsty, and surely this must be like bottled sparkletts, tastes like bottled sparkletts... ok, i guess i´ll go to bed? Have a handful of almonds and wondering what it would be like to be entirely by myself. So far it seemed safe.