Endings in Guatemala
“Better late than never. Or whatever.”
– A bunch of people say this all the time
2024 Prologue
Let’s first take a moment to reset. I traveled to Guatemala and first drafted this post in 2019 and updated it in 2020 after I had returned home from my travels, following a few months of adjustment back into adulting. I updated it again in 2022 reflecting on the massive changes in my life and the world feeling the impacts of a global pandemic. These thoughts and insights are a moment in the history of things that I would like to keep some record of for myself if nothing else.
I wrote and I updated and still I did not post for the world (possibly no one) to see.
It is now 2024. This unfinished blog has HAUNTED me for the last 5 years. It feels like a metaphor for all the things in my life that I never finished. Hobbies that started and stopped. Life paths of a few step forwards and several leaping strides backwards. The story without an ending.
So here I am. 2024. Finishing it. Or at the very least….putting the polishing touches on this chapter of my life. If my 2018-2019 travel experience and the last 5 years of continued growth have taught me anything…. its that it’s never too late. My story doesn’t end with a trip around the world. A year doesn’t really ‘end’, it only seems to be so because we arbitrarily pick a day in the calendar to call the last day of something. Every ending is equally a beginning, and it’s all the same as all the stuff in between.
Enough personal philosophy. Here we go.
2022 Reflections
I’m writing these words in early 2022. I’ve added an entire new intro to this blog because the world has changed incredibly in the last two years and my life with it. It’s been a few years since I was on the travel adventure of these blogging dreams, which really isn’t that long in the scope of the universe. But it’s a long time in the days of social media and shortened attentions spans. Even longer in the time of an unforeseen global pandemic.
The idea of spending more than a year of my life traveling around the world without so much as a mask on my face or a PCR test to get on plane feels like quite another lifetime at this point in history. So if you’re reading this today and remember what this blog was generally about, or what it’s like to get on a plane, I appreciate it. It’s possible I’ve finally found the gumption to finish this post out of some kind of hope that these travel experiences will be possible again in the not so distant future.
Why exactly has it taken me so long to write this? Lots of reasons. All of them good, but none of them very real or all that important. I came home, had to get my life back together, find a job, put a very final end unhealthy relationships, start dating again (jesus), adapt to a new life outlook, work schedule, responsibilities, yada yada. It’s easy to procrastinate when you’re adulting again – that’s part of it. Responsibility is a good excuse even if it’s not the real one.
For clarity – I have most definitely had time to finish this blog post. But I didn’t. For whatever reason I didn’t feel motivated to finish it until now. That’s the only reason I can offer.
So lets get back to finishing my last blog from my other lifetime. For nostalgic reasons, I’m leaving it long and wordy. I used to consider whether friends and family want to read a novel about my daily thoughts and travels and tried to keep it short. NO MORE. I took literal years off from writing, so now you get the full story in annoying detail.
These posts all start from old journal musings of mine, and reading through my notes again, well it’s rather surreal. I forgot half the stuff that happened. Reading it now feels like re-watching a movie I saw as a young kid. I remember the general plot line but the details still surprise me.
Here’s the short and sweet if you’ve made it this far and desire a recap. I was in Guatemala, having just finished yoga teacher training in the small town on Tzununa around Lake Atitlan. With just a few sparse weeks left of my vagabonding travel lifestyle, I parked it for a couple of days in the town of San Pedro before departing to see the Semuc Champey springs on the other side of Guatemala. This is where our adventure beings.
Ready, set, GO.
Misadventures in Guatemalan Laundry
I left San Pedro, Guatemala at 7am in the morning on a boat. I almost didn’t make it. The prior night I was supposed to pick up my laundry from a corner shop hole in the wall store downtown. A 5ft tall Guatemalan lady scribbled something illegible down on a pink sheet of paper as evidence that I entrusted her with most of my current belongings. Her reply – ‘Give me the bag of dirty clothes, $5 USD and come back after 6pm tomorrow’. This is all I needed to know.
I usually show up early for these things but got delayed from a call from a person who, not too long after this trip, turned into a very necessary ex-boyfriend. We had a long and tumultuous go. Four+ years back and forth. Together, then not. Love and then anger. Hope and then disappointment. More and more I’d noticed that having this relationship in my life made me stressed because I was always dealing with some situation, having to provide some explanation, or just dealing with general feelings of resentment. Lessons learned the hard way.
Anyway, I showed up at 6:10pm which is pretty close to the time that she told me to arrive. But of course the place was closed. This tiny lady had a lot of power over me, possessing most of my clothes the night before I was supposed to leave on a pre-booked bus ticket. A seasoned traveler by now, I didn’t completely panic. I cursed aloud as warranted, but didn’t freak out at the fact that half my suitcase was locked in a travel agency/laundromat/convenience store in a hippie travel town in Guatemala. No sir, I’m not new to this travel thing.
I went to the hostel next door and explained the situation in broken Spanish. Does she know the woman who works at the laundromat next door? She looked annoyed. Told me that the business next door closes at 6, and I should have come earlier. Having been specifically told to come back after 6pm made it feel like she was rubbing salt unnecessarily in my open wound. But I moved on. Next stop was the bar on the other side of the laundromat. Here, a young Israeli bartender was much more empathetic to my situation. He didn’t know the woman, but spoke better Spanish than me. He walked with me to other nearby establishments to ask around. Eventually, we had better luck at another travel agency across the street where the proprietor knew the laundromat lady’s name and number. Bingo.
He used the phone at the convenience store to call the laundromat owner. She said she would meet me back at the store in half an hour. Thank GOODNESS. As a contingency, I already planned on losing out on the pre-paid for the shuttle the next morning and staying in San Pedro for another day. Or possibly cancelling my next stop all together due to lack of motivation. There were also obvious signs from the universe to stay in San Pedro because of a laundry hostage situation. Regardless, this was my ticket out.
I thanked the hero bartender about a hundred times and awkwardly hugged him. I don’t think he wanted to be hugged but he got one anyway. He said the same thing happened to him in Mexico one time so he was happy to help. I owe someone a favor to pay forward.
Forty-five minutes later, and the lady showed up at the laundromat, apologizing. She usually closes at 7 but her neighbor’s father just died and she left early today. Sorry for my trouble. No worries. She’s dealing with actual life stuff and I’m just traveling through. I’m cool, I’m calm. It worked out in the end.
A Guide for Traversing Guatemala
Fast forward a day, and I’m sitting on a shuttle bus with no leg room for a 10 hour drive, wondering if it would have been better if I never got my laundry and just stayed in San Pedro. Ugh, it was such a long day. Everyone on the shuttle was either a 25 year old bro, or a couple. We’re back to this crowd again. I didn’t really talk to anyone. Some days, like when I’m trapped in a 1980’s van with no shocks meandering the mountainous roads of Guatemala, I can’t quite muster the energy to be the chatty one trying to make friends and finding conversational topics with youth outside of my demographic. Some days other people need to befriend me, damn it, or I’m just going to listen to my music.
The travel company told me I’d arrive in Lanquin by 5pm, but it was more like 8pm. Once in Lanquin, I immediately found the shuttle to Greengos hostel. This was the first shuttle of many. First, I got in the back of a jeep for an enjoyable ride of a half dozen blocks. I was then abruptly told to get out and get into the back of a pick up truck with some German tourists. 20 minutes later and we switched rides yet again. These stops were not like a stop at a bus stop downtown where people switch clearly marked vehicles. It’s more like – stop on a dirt road in the middle of the dark Guatemalan jungle, and some dudes will yell in Spanish to get in the back of that other pickup truck over there.
It’s all part of the adventure. I say to myself.
When I finally got to the hostel it was after 9pm. I left my guesthouse at 6:45am. I’m tired. I hadn’t eaten much. I’m surprisingly not hangry in any way, but halfway wondering why I’m here. Alone. Personal drama aside, I was knee deep in boyfriend breakup drama, and edging closer to going home to face the real world in a few weeks. I’m feeling pangs of regret.
I went to the hostel’s dining area to get some food before the kitchen closes, but there were crowds of people who looked like they knew each other. I lacked the social energy today. I’m sure they’re all nice and I could have started a chat, but it feels like a college cafeteria and the dinner menu matches the vibe with options for burgers and giant plates of nachos. The scene doesn’t fit my mood just now. I didn’t eat much today, but I also didn’t do much today. So I left. Best to sleep it off.
Rested and Ready to Do Stuff
Day two in Lanquin. I’ve slept well and my social energy is refueled. Sulking never solved problems, so it’s time to stop pouting and meet people.
After skipping out on human interaction the night before, I was determined to talk to someone new today. I started my day with an hour of meditation and yoga (go me, still doing it most days after yoga teacher training) and went to order breakfast. I sat next to people and I talked to people. Already an improvement.
I started chatting up a couple from Pennsylvania about their plans for the day. They were undecided. The woman spent most of the prior day sick and staying at the hostel. They signed up for a free tour with the hostel owner. Even though she was feeling better she wasn’t sure about going on an all day tour. They weren’t sure what the tour involved – the only fact given was that the owner needed at least 9 people. 11 had signed up, and it likely involved a waterfall and lunch at a local’s house. You could tell the boyfriend still wanted to go on this mystery tour, but the girlfriend wouldn’t budge. The decided to walk to Semuc Champey instead, and backed out of the tour.
Their cancellation, along with a few others, sent the hostel owner into a tirade of frustration. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do the tour at all anymore. The couple was long gone by this point, but now with only 7 people, he wasn’t sure if it was worth the work. Why does he put in all of this effort if people drop out at the last minute??
I started talking to a young German girl, Sarah, who was going on the tour. Do you know what it involves? “I don’t know but you should come with” she replied. Before I knew what was happening, Sarah had already asked one of the employees if I could join. Sarah was a spunky little thing that looks like she could be my younger cousin. She matches me in paleness, blondeness, and round faceness. She looks innocent and sweet, and is…but is equally likely to drink you under the table and tell someone off in the process. She’s incredibly out outgoing (in a charming but slightly abrasive way) and at least 10 years younger than me. She’s fun.
Sure you can join the employee replied. Get some stuff ready, and we’ll go. I like to think I helped the mood in the room as my addition made the hostel owner immediately calm down his tirade, if only just a little. A hop, jump, skip, and a 2 minute shower later and I was bag packed and ready to go with no idea where I was going or what we’d be doing.
The hostel owner, Dorog is our tour guide today and he’s a character if I ever met one. Israeli by decent, he wears low ride Dolce and Gabana bejeweled jean shorts, exclaimed by yellow calvin klein boxers constantly hanging out the back of them. “Listen, don’t worry guys. I get a lot more chill on the tour.”
We climbed in to the back of a pick up truck wth Dorog at the wheel. There are no vehicle safety regulations here. We are sitting in some seats protected by a cage on the back of a pick up, with as many people crammed in the space as possible. Stand up, sit down, or act like a 6 year old child swinging off the back – it doesn’t matter. No one will stop you.
As Dorog zipped down the unpaved gravely roads like kid driving a go kart, we all begin to introduce ourselves and question what we got ourselves into today. Did anyone know what we where we were going on this tour? Not really. We knew it was free and involved a waterfall. Good enough.
We took a sharp right, steering into a huddle of four or five basic and small houses. Several women stood outside manning large blankets filled with cacao beans drying in the sun. Dorog stopped, rolled down his window and started shouting to the women.
We looked around in a shared state of confusion when he put the vehicle in park and shut the engine.
I guess we were at the first stop. We exited the back of the truck with a mix of confusion and trepidation as Dorog motioned us into a nearby house. ‘It’s ok, I know them. I come here all the time.’
Inside a tiny leathered Guatemalan woman manned a fire, and three small chickens wandered around on the dirt floor. A single bed sat in the corner, a hammock in the middle, and the stove in the far corner.
‘She’s going to show you how to roast cacao and make tortillas.’ Informed Dorog. Ok, then.
Dorog wasn’t lying…he really did know these people. He called the woman’s husband on the phone asking ‘where are you, I’m at your house, run back here.” He picked up a random woman’s baby in the crowd of at least a dozen women and children like he was part of the family.
The woman in the house moved some firewood and pans around, and got to work on her cooking and roasting demonstration.
“Look, I know, right? This seems kind of crazy. Why am I in this strange Guatemalan house” Said Dorog. “But it’s ok. I come here all the time on the Friday tours.”
Sure enough, the small Guatemalan woman made tortillas – starting with grinding of the corn down to meal, forming the tortillas and cooking them on the fire. Eventually her husband did run back home from whatever he was doing after his crazy Israeli friend called him back. Right on cue, the husband walks in and hands Dorog a freshly cut Cacao plant and a machete. Dorog chopped up the cacaco, gave us each fresh beans to try. Meanwhile the women and men of the small village are giggling at the crazy antics and boisterious broken Spanish of this crazy Israeli hostel owner.
Eventually get back in the truck to zoom down the road to a school. Dorog hands us a bag of suckers to hand out to children, and informs us all that we are about to play a soccer game with the kids. At this point I’m not sure if he’s serious or kidding, but if I learned anything by the morning adventures I should have known he was dead serious. Each passenger on this unhinged tour grabs a handful of suckers and starts handing them out to young Guatemalan children lined up outside the school. We’re all Dorog’s minions at this point.
The kids are shy. Several of us say hello, or ask their names. Mostly the kids just giggle, grab their sucker, and run away. Shortly thereafter we all need to head down the hill to a soccer field where nine international tourists are about to play the local Guatemala kids in a soccer game. Or at least we will play the local boys. All of the girls sat the game out.
Two young Israeli tourists and the Australian on our team had some soccer skills, but I’m sorry to say the rest of us lacked real talent. I was never a soccer player, even as a kid – too afraid of getting hit in the face with the ball. But here in Guatemala on this random hillside with some random local kids – what the hell, let’s have some fun. I must have done a convincing job, because one of the young Israeli guys asked if I played at home. His gracious question gave me such a bloated sense of confidence at my natural athletic ability that I full throttle kicked the empty air the next time the ball came within 5 feet of my personal atmosphere. That’ll teach me.
Miraculously, we scored three goals to the kids’ two. Dorog informed us this never happened, and that the tourists never win. He immediately stopped the game before we had the chance to lose it.
After a short goodbye, off we went again, driving like a banshee up the narrow Guatemalan mountain roadways to our next unknown destination. At one point, Dorog pulled over, jumped out of the car without explanation and went hunting in the bushes on the side of the road. He emerged with a handful of prickly pods, informing us we needed to open them, put some water inside and rub the seeds until we made an orange paste, which we needed to use to paint on ourselves like war paint. Five minutes later and he did it again, this time to pick some fresh cardamom pods. This is when he said “listen, the road is going to get a little bit crazy, so just hang on ok”. So….just now it’s getting crazy??
As we climbed, we each tried not to think too much about how unsafe these narrow and steep mountain roadways felt with a maniac behind the wheel. We hung on to a strap for dear life, and eventually stopped again so he could take a picture. At this stop, he told us how it was raining so hard last week, that he wasn’t sure if the truck was going to fall down the hill. “Oh my god, my balls were in my throat the whole time. All the men on the tour refused to stay in the back of the truck, they got out and walked. They were so afraid. Only the women stayed inside. Listen, if we start to go over the mountain, you just dive off the side. I’m like a captain though, so I’m going to have to go down with my truck.”
It’s all part of the adventure.
We eventually make it some waterfalls. They are beautiful and are tucked away in some local spot that our group never would have found without the help of a local eccentric Israeli hostel owner tour guide. The group stopped for a bit to take in the day and have an afternoon swim. As typical tourists we take pictures for our social media accounts while Dorog walks around picking up trash that has collected in a nearby drainage ditch. When we’ve had our fill of pictures and poses, we join in a slow walk back to the truck with a travel glow on our faces from the joy of new experiences. Our last stop is another nearby town where Dorog has somehow convinced the local women to cook us some local soup for dinner.
It was a wild day. A memorable one and a fitting completion to 15 months of expanding my little world by visiting new places in new continents.
The next day, or maybe the one after, I booked the standard tour to Semuc Champey. It’s a beautiful site consisting of a series of cascading swimming pools hidden away in the Guatemalan forest. I didn’t take many notes to blog about my thoughts and emotions that day. I just sat and experienced it in the moment, taking a picture or two along the way. A few days, a few more yoga sessions, a few new friends and drinks later I got on a plane to head back to the US to decide what came next in this journey of life.
Epilogue
I don’t know if there will ever be a good way to end this post or this blog. I’ve ready many a book where I was positively enthralled with the adventures along the way only to be ultimately disappointed with the final conclusion. Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure that this ‘last’ post represents and end at all – certainly not to my life experiences and also not to my travel experiences either. Since I came back from my globetrotting year and survived the global pandemic lockdown I’ve since traveled to destinations near and far ranging from Durango, Colorado (gorgeous), to Jordan, Zambia, Luxembourg, Kyrgyzstan, Togo, and the Democratic Republic of Congo to name a few. I’ve also been back to Guatemala. Twice.
There are no rules. And since I can’t seem to let this website go, maybe it will still be my travel blog. Or maybe a blog devoted to sharing the thousands of adorable pictures I seem to take on a daily basis of my rescue pittie Maggie. Or maybe it will be nothing at all and will stay as a summary of a moment in time, and a period of my life that looked very different from the rest. Who cares? It’s mine, and I can turn it into anything that I want or leave it alone and keep paying for my annual website subscription.
I’ll end on this. Since I came back from these travels five years ago, many things have changed while others have stayed the same. This statement is not an insightful revelation by any means. It’s just life. Much like these travels, my life hasn’t all been joyous good times and instagram worthy stories. There have also been heartaches, endless frustrations, questions over what I’m doing, why I can’t seem to get certain things right and where I’m headed. Regardless of the ups and downs, I’m grateful for the journey, the notable blog entries and the memories made and people met along the way.
