Guet me out of here

I left my boys last night for a much needed personal restreat. Ive been trailed by a brave group of 22 year old boys who refer to me as ¨nurse J¨. One boy with cystic fibrosis, living out his last days, portable respirator in hand, one 17 yo at heart, and one kid with more near death stories than one ought to ever have. They were good friends to me- giving me hugs and endless shit as I stared nervously at potential landslides. I arrived in San Marcos, a tiny village on the lake, in the rain. I changed rooms twice. ´mi solo´ I said motioning to lack of locks. So I was put with one very strange boy and another one who was seriously ill, thinking why me. The heavens opened up again with serious rage and I was grateful to have someone to take care of cause I was so scared with the rising water and my little cabana in the valley. I was up all night with the rain and thunder and booming that I was sure was the land coming crashing through the valley. There is no time that you feel more alone, farther away from home, then when you are sick as a dog in a forgien country imagining what kind of sickness you must have contracted. But the one thing I can say is that in the morning I had the most amazing breakfast, the sun came out, i did yoga for 2 hours... and then jumped the boat to Panajachel. My plan .... maybe home when the weather is safe for travel.

Guatever

So, after the first afternoon in Guatemala it started, and then continued, to rain for days. In Antigua I hit the backpacker circuit. In the middle of 20 2oyear olds I found a nice 27 year old girl from England who has also had to work for the money she travels with. I was grateful for a conversation that didn't revolve around partying. Antigua itself was a beautiful colonial town with a market for me to go shopping in ... and even a Burger King. I can't remember if I wrote about the Volcano- but we rode 2 hours each way in the rain and hiked 4 hours in the rain to see where lava might be but I enjoyed the exercise. The next day I took off for Lake Attilan which happens to be at the end of a chinese built road that is 3 hours long. Huge sand/dirt embankments on either side just scream landslide at you and by the time I reached the lake I was shooken up. I got in a boat with a bunch of nervous gualtemalans bound for a small village with one hotel. Luckily- the one hotel was a slice of heaven. Thank god for that because I was beginning to wonder if my luck had run out. As the rain poured I worried about landslide possibilities, scratched my bed bug bites, and tried to fix my brand new broken camera. Oh the joys of travel. Miracle of miracles.. the sun came out the next day. Here we were braced for yet another tropical storm but no.. the gods smiled on me as we explored indiginous villages. I went for my first altitude fresh water dive today and freaked out in zero visibility. Luckily the dive master was a gentle person and used to the reaction. I then went and took a weaving class with a local woman in her house. As I sat in silence with her- speaking the only spanish neccessary... all my worries melted away. Women's work... for once in my life I was so damn grateful.