Three Months In

     On a cold blustery day of January I hopped on a plane that took me from Chicago to Guatemala City. Now I am three months in, and I am aware that a shift has taken place.  These southern lands, this latino-latina culture, these inviting families, salt filled winds, these beats that blare from speakers at all hours of the day, these old white churches and most of all, this underlying sense of heart that permeates through every mountain village, every crazy city, every coastal town, has captured my heart.  South America has taken me in, and I have surrendered.
     And everyday is not perfect, in fact most days hold little trinkets of challenging events.  For example, my now constant travellers diarrhea (excuse the gross honesty, I have lost all modesty in traveling) has become completley normal.  Many hours and nights have passed on a bus, clutching my stomach, and praying that the bus driver will find it in his heart to stop for a break somewhere within the fifteen hour trip.  I have gotten used to waking from a small nap on the bus to us passing a large truck at what seems like 70 miles per hour around a blind curve, headlights from an oncoming vehicle glaring, and horns blaring as passing signals.  I am no longer fazed by perplexing toilets and am learning to remember more often to bring my own TP or napkin with me, as often is the case, there is none.  There are different standards of cleanliness now.  I have grown accustomed to my clothes reaking of a weeks activity, and in turn, gotten used to washing my clothes by hand, rubbing them vigarously over stone washboards like the local women (while contemplating how women find time to do  anything besides the wash) and hanging them on rocks, in trees, on rails.
     My wallet has been heavy with unchangable coins, my eyes heavy with sensory overload.  I am learning new rhythms of living, and how to discover and follow my own beat.  Plans change, new ideas manifest, and at times I find myself going or arriving to places I did not expect.  For example, Fabienne and I just bused all the way through Colombia, stopping only briefly in Popayan and Medellin along the way.  Many people asked why we would do such a thing, and miss out on visiting all of the different places, old ruins, mountain markets, coffee farms, places to rock climb and dance salsa.  But the truth is there can always be more to see, more to do, what really matters is how one is where one is, and in this instance for Fabienne and I , we needed to return to the waves, to the people of the coast.  We had many other plans that got left behind as we awoke each morning craving the ocean.  Now we are here, re-energizing and re-rooting a bit among the sweetest mangoes, most kind people, and music to accompany the drips of sweat that run constantly down the whole body.
     I have found that with enough time and curiosity interesting things will happen.  Time reveals a place.  Conversations with sun worn fishermen manifest, friendships with locals happen, laughter and play with children has an oppertunity to surface.  Sometimes it is difficult to arrive in a new place, but mostly it is the leaving that anxiously pulls at my heart.  Leaving Canoa was one of the hardest decisions to make, and at each stopping point heading north I questioned turning back.  Traveling encourages the practice of trusting, of following intuition, and then sometimes without quite knowing how or why, going forth, following pathways of the heart with blind faith that what will be, will be, nothing more is necessary.  I read a passage recently that stated: If you´re not doing something new, you´re doing something you´ve done before.  Simple in context, profound in enactment.
    So, will you all be seeing me soon?  Probably.  My beautiful friend Melina has a grand wedding planned to take place come mid May, my mom tells me to come home as soon as possible, and friends assure me there is beauty and magic that still resides in the United States.  However, on days like today, surrounded by turqoise blue Carribean water like I have never seen, a wonderful girlfriend to share beer and coffee and matte with, a family with a child called Etienne who has curly dark hair and teaches me spanish words like ´paloma´ and ´cucaracha´- a little bit of my mind wonders about staying here, teaching yoga, laughing, learning, and exchanging- in these lands so rich in heart.
Cheers.