My hair is long for Christine Preddy. It falls down and hits the back of my neck. I am aware of its length daily. As I walk to class in the cool, sometime cold, mornings, it is slightly wet, and very clean... and it bounces against the back of my neck. How different than the Christine of so many years past. Change is constant.
On the hike this past weekend someone, Jen from Australia to be exact, asked me, as I come into 25 if I have learned new life lessons, or if I feel different. In the small amount of oxygen my body was struggling to pull from the thin air, I responded, ´yes, notably.´ I breathe more (especially on the mountain), I move slower in life, I take time for myself, I enjoy certain personal oddities that society might deem peculiar, I stress differently, I appreciate each day differently than years past and I notice that my hair hits the back of my neck. That is not all, of course, and she shared hers, but, when I feel the length of my hair, it reminds me of this ´notable´difference from the mountain discussion.
So, it is a bit late, and I am really tired, but I owe it to myself to write down what I did this weekend, because it may possibly be one of the coolest things I have done (besides make a gingerbread treehouse cake, hah).
Thursday I found out that the trip I wanted to go on on Saturday was cancelled. Lake Chicabal with Alberto. Not that I wanted to go on trips with Alberto, i definently get enough in class, but I was stoked for Chicabal. No one else wanted to go, so they cancelled it. Agua amiragas, bathing in hotsprings on Friday, also cancelled... only one registered, Christine Preddy. I was mad. Pissed at the school and myself for poor planning and timing. Dismayed to have to find my own amusement in Xela, I inquired into a trip I heard discussion of¨: Tajumulco.
Do not get me wrong. I can find my own entertainment, but, language is usually a big help. And I am not about to hop on a chicken bus by myself with my 22 words of spanish. So I went to Quetzeltrekkers. I highly recommend this organization, by the way... check them out. All the money they make, after food and bus expenses goes to run, entirely run, a school and a dormitory for street kids.
So. I ran my 50 Q (about 6 bucks) deposit to Quetzeltrekkers during my class break on Friday. Got lost. How very different. With my shitty language skill, but damn good pointing and shrugging skills, I made my way to the door. Gringo land. Nay, fit, hiking, outdoorsy gringo land.
After a gear meeting on Friday, and a few hours of sleep. I woke at 1, 2, and 3 am to meet Alberto, our taxi and yes, also my prof. Fearing that I would hike with the shits and crummies that had started friday night, i took some oregon grape tincture, a deep early morning breath and shoved my loaned backpack into his car.
I failed at a quick name game attempt while we awaited our next car. Honestly, shouldn´t we know eachother´s names¿¿ A pick up truck ride later (standing in the back, driving through the bumpy streets of Xela, I felt like a real Guate, except for I could not feel more like a gringo either) we arrived, still in the dark, at the scary chicken bus terminal in minerva. Burning trash... smell association to the great Lebanon.
Backpacks hoisted up to the top of the chicken bus (which are us or canadian school buses, painted many colors and with an added rack inside, and no ppl limits) they were strapped, fingers crossed by a guate who rode the top and sides of the bus for a large part of the rather intense trip. Spìder man, spider man.
Rice and beans and eggs at a resto at the next stop. Back on the bus. Oh boy. talk about packing em in. We were so tight, I felt i had made a goiter of my friend, journey, next to me. She clung to me, I clung to the seat, and we held, trying not to push the poor woman off the seat also.
Perhaps the greatest moment of the whole trip, well, maybe the third greatest moment (sunrise and sunset beating it out) was the moment a baby threw up on Kim on the bus. Nonchalantly, this 1 year old opens his mouth, throws up all down Kim´s arm, and then casually closes his mouth and continues to peer respectfully around. The reaction and the ridiculous that ensued, is `priceless. Granted Kim was about to jump out the window, from my point of view, hilarious.
At the drop off we started to hike. Let it be know, as it is known, that this begins the longest ongoing internal pep talk in the past few months. You can do it. One step at a time.
Did I fail to mention we were climbing the tallest point, a volcano, in central america?¿ yes. yup. Should have really thought that one through. Or maybe, it was best I didn´t. I did make it. To everything. Sunset and sunrise, and every rid iculously difficult step in between. And clouds, clouds that move and dance in such a provocative way, I wanted to fall into them and dance the rythm of the universe (seriously you would say something similar). And you´d maybe know how breathing above the clouds feels. Altitude sickness, I know thee well.
There is more description than I can give with my lowering eyelids right now. Lets just say, getting up out of a chair is an interesting experience now... but, the soreness is going away... and it was all worth it. It may have been, like I said, an unbeatable experience.
I have yet to catch up with my sleep (after a much needed shower I went to a bar to watch the big game, sorry Xela, you were so close)... so now, maybe is the time. I shall rise and again try to build my spanish knowledge foundation with some borrowed tenacity of the mayans, whose history astounds.
Peace to you all. Wherever you may be reading this. Merry Christmas.
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