(Warning: this post is one long rant of feelings and memories. Read at your own risk.)
It is silent, but the bass from music some hundred yards away shakes my heart and reminds me that yes, Central America really is a party all the time, even in the early morning.
The morning air is crisp and clear and the mountains in the distance are being swollowed by clouds.
I hear water dripping slowly in the bathroom from a leaky faucet. Cars rumble down the cobblestone streets.
My back and shoulders are sore from the many bus and boat rides and terrible bed mattresses. My heart feels like it is struggling to keep beating. I will it to stay intact, but for some reason I imagine my pretty little red heart being entangled by sticky black threads wrapping around it and stretching it in all directions.
I didn't know that Central America had the ability to get this cold. I am wearing sweatpants beneath my jeans and a hoodie over a long sleeve shirt. Thanks for preparing me for Wisconsin, but I wouldn't have minded one more day in tropical paradise before returning to cold reality.
I again wonder why I choose to travel. Why I choose to fall in love so deeply and break my heart over and over and over. And I wonder if I will ever again see these people I love so much.
And even more than that, I wonder if I had even a small portion of affect on the people I met- if they miss me even a tiny bit as much as I miss them, or if I am just another American girl they can brag about getting a photo with.
I can't believe that it's been three weeks. That the way I am now is a product of three weeks of people, places, and experiences that have forever shaken my world and reminded me that I will never be satisfied living the "American Dream."
Three weeks and my world is changed once again. I am not who I was. I never again want to be who I was.
And to think that in a few short hours I will return to life where everything is the same, even though I am so different.
I think about the beauty here, the simple, slow way of life. The way they love so freely, and I never want to leave that.
The people here, they are all so, so beautiful. I see them and my heart smiles. They make my heart want to blow up and throw confetti over the whole world. They're physically beautiful beyond belief, but more than that, their souls hold so much more beauty, and that can't be conveyed by photos. That, you would have to experience for yourself.
I think about my new friends and how unbelievably much I miss them, even though our paths crossed for such a short time.
And I realize that these people, they changed me.
Joe. He wasn't like every other boy in the country. He loved like a brother and respected us like we were queens. He protected us and even though we had only met for a few short days, he made it obvious that he didn't matter; his comfort didn't matter, all that mattered was our safety and happiness. And we joked like old friends. Even through the cultural differences in humor, we meshed and created humor all our own. He danced his heart out and taught me, too. He didn't care that I wasn't a great dancer, he had fun anyway.
He loved to laugh, and he says it like it is. He seems like the good boy, but has a quiet rebellion you'd never imagine, and his heart for others; for children, for the elderly. His heart for giving selflessly without thinking...Joe was special. And, he taught me that beer bubbles and overflows when you tip it too fast. Yep. Epic. :)
And then there was August. Oh, August. A terrible, broken man that somehow trusted me. A guy that came from a background of hell, a background of unfair abuse and death, and yet still recognized his crazy blessings from God, a man searching for purpose, searching for forgiveness. The first day, he said he wanted to make us feel welcome, and he did a wonderful job. Yet there was a side of an absolute jerk. A terrible, manipulative person that would send most people running. But there was something about him I couldn't let go. The look in his eyes, searching for something. And me having what he was looking for. He wanted to kiss me, and asked what he had to do, but respected me all the more when I insisted that it wasn't going to happen. He had never met anyone like me, and he told me, "you're really special."
Juan.
Such simple, short times, but such a beautiful soul. Sometimes the little things mean the most. Every day around 6:30 I would head to his coffee shop. He would beautifully decorate the capuchinos with hearts and flowers and leaves, and we would discuss Spanish and English and teach each other.
The last night in his town, he said he was really tired but promised to come over and hang out for an hour. He strongly hinted several times at kisses and more, (Who didn't?? These boys, I tell ya.) but even so, he was content to sit and talk for a whole hour, he could have left, and yet he kept his word. And it meant so much.
Vinicio
This kid helped to make some of the best "real local experiences". He led us around, showed us the beach and the waterfalls and how to crack open coconuts straight from the tree and how to eat sugarcane from the stalk. He taught me a slower way of life; that you don't need money because you just help each other out. You give, and you receive what you need. He taught me their way of life of "what's mine is yours" not the American way of "what's mine is mine". He also taught me that guys all over the world are all the same, and he believed his rediculous 10 pack abs and crazy skills could get him any girl, and when I said no, he wasn't happy. But maybe that was good for him. Vinicio is the only 23 year old guy I have ever met that had never touched alcohol or smoking or drugs of any kind, and he liked to prove that you don't need alcohol to be a good dancer. He taught me to find what works for you in life and stick with it. Don't give in to peer pressure, ever. People respect you more if you don't, even when they try everything to get you to fall.
Eduardo
Even selfish, creepy, terrible people have a heart sometimes. It's okay to give your shoes to strangers, just don't expect something in return if that wasn't part of the deal. And don't follow people around, especially when you're more than 10 years older. It's just creepy.
Catalina...Such a sweet, quiet soul. Every day she would make homemade bread and cinnamon buns and wait for us. She told us not to go to "otro chicas, solo Catalina," and only buy from her because were friends. So make friends with your clients. It's a lot more fun that way.
Pedro. Somehow, just going to the same place every day makes friends.
We bought smoothies from Pedro every day and he helped us learn Spanish. He called himself "Pedro de Sam Pedro" and he taught me that to put my heart 100% into my work is to be blessed 100x more.
Chapi...I didn't even realize how much Chapi affected me until recently. Beth fell in love with him, but he was a little too hippie for me. But thinking back, Chapi is one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever met. The way he loved, laughed, and smiled was contagious like the flu. Chapi taught me to love everyone with all that you have, unconditionally, even if they don't love you back. Don't care what they think, dance your heart out, and smile always. Tell people they're beautiful. Be original. Be you, because you are perfect. Oh my gato. Prize for best laugh and most original quotes, right here.
And then there are the countless precious kids.
And so many more...Aleks. Brittany. Angelica. Scott. Martjin. Miguel. Karin. Bar Darchi. Tzielle. Dan. The countless nameless beautiful souls I was blessed to meet.
And last but not least, my travel buddy Bethy. Even though we hated each other at times, we had the best experiences, and I wouldn't trade them for the world.
These people have impacted my life in crazy ways the last three weeks, more than they'll ever know. Maybe it's true that I have nothing to show for my trip but photos and cheap souvenirs, but the memories...those are the ones that really matter. The memories of the people, and the new friends I have grown to love.
I have a determination to return, to see everyone again, and that thought keeps me going. It keeps me from letting the pit in my stomach blow up and bury me here in Guatemala. I have to think I'll be back. I have to believe that I will see these people again.
Doubt pushes in and says that's unlikely. It's too far and too expensive and you have a life to live in America and even if you did come back it wouldn't be the same. The people don't care about you like you care about them.
Lies. I'm listening to hope.
This trip is ending, but I feel as if this journey in life is just beginning.
There is so much more, and I am going to run after it until I find it and catch it.
I know there is more to life. I don't know what more is, but I will find it, and I will achieve it.
And just a side note, I do get down on America sometimes. I think most people there are stuck up and selfish, but I do love my home. I could rant forever about how great Central America is, but I am blessed, and I really can wait to come back...to visit. (;
Thank you to everyone who has supported me an continues to support me on my adventures. I love you all terribly and appreciate you all more than you know.
Happy Thanksgiving, see you soon! :)
