EDIT: This post is, basically, a run-down of things that have been difficult for me but how I welcome the opportunity to be challenged when I travel. I want to add, here at the beginning, that I love this place, and I love how laid-back we’ve been able to be here so far. The people and the afternoons are warm, and the drinks and the nighttimes are cool. This area of the country is very “wander-able,” and it’s a feast for the eyes and ears. Okay. Now on to my, uh… reflections? Meditations?
Day Two. Okay, technically Day Three, but FULL DAY Two. I feel like I’ve already been here a week. Kind of. It’s that weird time warp thing that happens when you travel. Anyway, those of you who’ve followed along with these travel blogs of ours before (mostly our parents) may have noticed that I tend to write at least one “Well, today was a really hard day for me” post every trip. With it only being Full Day Two, I don’t think I’ve yet earned the right to say something like that, but I think I can say that I’ve had a few difficult experiences on the trip so far.
First of all, we got up super early to hike yesterday, and I swear, it had to be one of the most challenging hikes of my life. It was short but very steep, and there was one stretch that was ALL STEPS. I hate steps. Especially when it’s pre-sunrise, and you don’t know how many steps you have left!!! Anyway, I huffed and I puffed and I very slowly trod on up behind our guide, and after we all stopped to rest a bit, we trudged the final few yards to the top of a very pointy little mountain and awaited the sunrise. We weren’t disappointed, as this was possibly one of the most magnificent sunrises I’ve ever seen in my life. But still… it was a lot of work (and a little embarrassment, being by far the fattest person up on that mountain and definitely the slowest).
Second so-far difficult thing. Ziplining. Yeah, yeah, ziplining. How awesome, how fun, it’s like you’re flying, blah blah blah. I thought I thought all those things, and I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. Nope. For starters, more hiking. More hiking that was steep and difficult and, this time, hot. After what felt like a six-hour hike (I think it was about half an hour), we finally made it to our first line. I won’t bore you with the details of each line, but I will tell you that I screwed up on all of them. I could not get the braking thing down (I’ve never been on the kind where you have to brake by applying pressure simply with one gloved hand to the cable), and I kept spinning uncontrollably! Yes, I tried all the tricks to right myself, but… I just kept plopping around out there. The other weird part of the ziplining was how scared I felt. I would generally say that I, while sometimes a little animated, am not a jumpy person. I can keep my head and remain relaxed under pressure. I’m not prone to fears or anxiety. Something about this ziplining experience, though, brought out a whole new side of me. A scared side. It wasn’t that I felt unsafe; I knew all the proper precautions had been taken and that nothing bad could actually happen to me. It was more of this primal fear that can only really be described as, “I’m flying, which I’m not supposed to do, and I’m flying faster by the second, which I’m really not supposed to do. None of this adds up. I must be about to die.” Fortunately, modern mechanics took over, and I survived.
Then… There was our pitiful attempt to take a boat from our current village, Panajachel, to another village, Santiago. Long to short, we didn’t know about one of the boat docks at Panajachel and had to do some extra boating around from village to village to get to our destination. Once there, we saw the sights we intended to see (which involved haggling a bit with a tuk-tuk driver/tour guide) and eventually made our way back. It was kind of frustrating, and it tried my patience. (Perhaps my nerves were a little worn after flying over the nature reserve earlier in the day??)
On one of the boat rides, we were joined by two posh British chicks, who were dressed in attire I had been warned was inappropriate and used the bow as their own personal sundeck and selfie studio. Apparently these vacation mating rituals involved cuticle care because of the girls was obsessed with filing her nails for awhile. I was a little miffed because I couldn’t understand how nails could be so important when you’re in such a beautiful place. But I had to remind myself that their whole preening routine was none of my darn business and get on with it.
And it hit me later on: Filing is not such a bad thing. Perhaps I mean in a… metaphorical sense. I have felt so challenged the past couple of days, with the early rise and the hikes and the haggling and the newfound fear of ziplining, and I remember other times in my travels that I have felt challenged. Sometimes physically, but there have been mental and emotional challenges, too. One of the mental ones of this trip is having to communicate in Spanish way more than I ever have in my life. There have certainly been others on other trips. Anyway, in these challenges, I’m reminded of why I do this. To file myself down. Whether it’s pushing myself an extra few yards in a pre-dawn hike up a steep mountain or bumping up against people I don’t fully get or even like all that much (in tour groups, hostels, markets, etc), I feel like I’m letting myself be roughed up a bit for the purpose of being shaped into something better. Travel isn’t the only way to do this, of course, but it’s the way I’m doing it at the moment.
So, to that chick with the nail file (that I probably made some unfair assumptions about), thanks for the object lesson. Also, have fun and try to learn a little something about this awesome place.
P.S. I’m too tired to proofread. Y’all can figure what I’m saying, I think.
P.P.S. Bunny is on this trip with us. At some point, I will share some Bunny photos.