I still haven't gotten over my "I must wake up by 6:30 every morning because I'm in a different country" thing. Every morning, without fail. Doesn't matter if I go to bed at ten or two or five. Six thirty and I'm wide awake.
I guess that's okay. There are places to go and things to do and people to meet. Usually anyway. This morning it's pouring rain, as It has been on and off for two days. It's hard to travel in the rain. Really, it's hard to do anything because everyone pretty much stays home and does nothing.
There is a lot of that here. People just hang out, relax with friends, drink beer. I'm not sure how they can take so much time off of work, but it's just a slower way of life, and it is so beautiful. They're just never in a hurry.
I don't like this town. It is so strange and so different from the other places we've been, but I guess we can't always love every place we go. This seems to be more of a poor city, but then again, it doesn't. It looks poor, but there are only stores along the road - for the first time on this trip, we have not been approached constantly by women selling bread, kids selling trinkets, or men selling beautiful handmade jewelry. I miss it terribly. It's such a great way to meet people.
Here, no one seems to care about tourists, either which is really strange. No one notices us, no one greets us. Maybe I've gotten too used to being center of attention. This place is 100% opposite of Montericco. They made it such a priority to make us feel welcome there.
Oh Montericco. For the last three days, I've tried to live in the moment; to enjoy where I am. But I can't. The people and experiences from Montericco weigh in my mind and make me want to cry because I miss it so much. The pit in my stomach thinking about how long it might be until i return hasn't faded at all. The way of life in that little beach town....the world should take note.
On a different note:
Americans,
Never ever ever think you have it bad. If you have a bed without a billion tiny bugs that make you itch like crazy, if you have a bed at all, if you make more than $2 an hour, if you have anything in the bank, if you don't have to stand on the street begging for only one quetzal (around five cents,) and fight violently with your friends over the one orange the tourists gave you, if your parents didn't sell you into prostitution just so they could survive.... Americans, don't take your life for granted. The funny thing is, even though there are days here that almost seem like hell compared to my comfort at home, the people here...they know how to love. They know how to appreciate what they have. It makes me hate America and wonder where we went wrong.
We have everything we need, but we don't have what really matters. We don't have joy. We don't have unconditional love. We think mostly about ourselves and what we want and how we can be happy...it's sick. So, so sick.
On a happier note, the people here. Whoa. So, time for a little story about my day yesterday. :)
We again returned to the hot springs waterfall, where we met our new motercycle driving friend Jonathan.
Coolest place ever, and no one even knows. Basically no tourists go there. Almost no people go there. You'd think that with a place this amazing it would be crawling with people, but somehow we got it almost to ourselves.
We swam in the hot waterfall, in the freezing river, and Jon showed us some amazing caves under the rocks. You had to go through the strong currant and falls to get behind them...yeah. We went behind a waterfall. It was incredible, and Jon was so sweet and caring to make sure that we didn't hit our heads on the low rocks. He showed us three different caves, and words don't do it justice, so I'll leave it at that.
After the caves, we climbed up along the waterfall using rocks and tree roots to pull ourselves up. As the three of us held hands, we walked in a straight line on a narrow path in the woods, avoiding ants and plants and holding ourselves out of the sticky mud. We walked for quite a while before we reached the hot pool - where the steaming hot water bubbled out of the ground.
We walked through the pool that was almost to hot to stand, but still perfect, to a log in the very back. Jon crawled under the log and came out with handfuls of yellowish white clay and started spearing it on our faces. Then, he encouraged us to spread it all over us. Fifteen minutes later he let us wash it off...oh my goodness. It must be some kind of miracle drug because it made or skin rediculously smooth. I was a little hesitant at times because the water almost had a sulfur smell, but hey, when in Guatemala, do what the Guatemalans do, right? (;
Then, we came back, lept off the top of the waterfall into the water below, and sat and drank some Guatemalan drinks on the rocks. Falling in love with people and places...
That's all for now. The rain is letting up. :)
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