the adventure continues...

(*I apologize for taking so long to update this thing... I'm months behind. I'll try working on that...)

following our magnificent volcano/beach weekend, i got sick. Tuesday morning. fever of 102... which meant missing class... which meant missing discussion (in Spanish) of Venezuelan politics with a side of Bob Dylan and Miles Davis ambience music. also missed word getting back to my traveling buddies that it was reported that "a group of hippies was seen leaving the compound last Friday." oh mom would be so proud. random visits throughout the day from those traveling buddies of mine.
this morning, fever at full force, the Spanish was too much. i couldn't comprehend it and it took great effort to form the one sentence i did my best to repeat: tengo un fiebre de 102 y necesito llamar la escuela.
my dresser is strewn with medication- most of it delivered by a training center employee this morning. while i'm relieved that my fever has subsided, i hate feeling medicated like this. i want to crawl out of my skin. i'm sleeping a lot and thinking about my bed back home.

***

it's Saturday morning, and I'm swinging in a hammock on the second story of our Q15/night hotel in San Pedro. last night we arrived in Panajachel.

traveling buddies and i left the training center Friday afternoon, catching a bus to Antigua in search of a bus to Chimaltenango. once there we got off and waited in a sea of madness at La Cruce. a mass of people waiting around us, a mess of cars honking and darting, the shouts of the bus ayudantes. after waiting in this chaotic purgatory, a bus that didn't say any of the right towns assured us it would get us where we wanted to go. that was good enough for us.
and the bus was packed. amazingly, i was able to find a "seat"... though it was actually more painful to balance myself on 6inches of seat, stabling myself through all the swerves, than to just stand. as i stood, my knee propped on the seat, the Mayan woman next to me fell asleep, a mirror image of the child she clutched in her arms. his little hand eventually plopped down to rest on my knee. while the moment was sweet and left me smiling, one stop opened up the seat to my other side and i gladly took it. one of my friends moved in to balance between the two seats and i was pushed into an older man wearing a cowboy hat- my shoulder fit perfectly in his armpit.
a few more buses and we were spiraling downwards after a massive climb. the view was literally breathtaking. Lake Atitlan is surrounded by green mountains, a few purple grey volcanoes, scattered towns, and low clouds. regardless of still feeling sickly, i was so glad i made this trip.
we found a great cafe at the end of a strip of tourists and their souveneir shops, right by the water. we enjoyed a moonlit view of the amazing lake and its surroundings over tea and veggie fajitas and live jazz. everything is delicious, but i have waves of unpredictable nausea. the fever is gone but i cough throughout the night.
this morning we sat at a small patio table at the motel and breakfasted on beans, oranges, and bread before catching a boat to San Pedro, Guatemala.
in the early morning, the boat ride was magnificent. the peaceful lake. the frigid air. the looming mountains.
and now the crew has departed for another volcano excursion, but my insides have suggested that I stay in my hammock for a solitary day of writing, reading, contemplating.
***

tonight I ate delicious vegetarian food on pillows and rugs at a cafe that played "Dub Side of the Moon." we shared our bottle of wine with the owner and bartender (*one of them gave me a bracelet that i will be wearing months from then, and it will make me smile every time I notice it, reminding me of this night). a live band sets up in front of us and begins playing; later my friend and i chat outside by the water with the musicians, a man selling earrings, and the owner. owner's a man from Indiana and tells me how he used to drop shit off on his brother's front yard to make it look trashy. he went to Purdue for consumer science but then headed to Belize. unable to find what he was looking for, he was making his way to Brazil when he stumbled upon Lake Atitlan and planted himself here. i love hearing people's stories.

we left the cafe and made our way in the darkness along someone's house, through their corn field, down to the dock where we bathed and swam earlier today. we were in search of the moon.
sitting on blankets, we heard the music from our last reality echo off the lake under the stars; part of me listening to our random conversations, most of me enjoying the moon.