One person can make a difference and everyone must try. – John F. Kennedy
Wednesday, March 14, 2012 (DAY 10)
(photo right: from Temple IV in Star Wars IV: A New Hope)
The last time I awoke to an alarm close to 4am was almost ten days ago. I could never have imagined how exciting and liberating life has been in the past week as doors continue to open with the wonderful people and experiences I feel blessed to share in. I’m also beginning to grow accustom to sharing the space in which I sleep and a bathroom after living alone for so long. I thought I would miss my spacious 4-bedroom, 3-bathroom home that I spent the past nine years making my own, but ironically, I have been more concerned with living out the life that I feel I was meant to lead–awaking each day with new experiences to embrace, that exist outside of the realm of routine. I feel as though I am truly living life free. I so badly wish I could share this feeling with everyone I know, and even those that I don’t. It is the most incredible feeling to awake with practically endless possibilities. While I am hopeful to visit every country in Central America, I also have the wonderful knowledge that within a days flight I can wake up in Thailand, Brazil, Kenya, Turkey, New Zealand, and the list remains endless. Having no plan, no specific route, and no timeline of when this incredible journey may come to an end, my previous life focus has shifted from money and materialism to living for change–a change within me that continues daily and hopefully encouraging change and affecting other people’s lives that I have the opportunity to encounter.
(photo right: from Temple IV in Star Wars IV: A New Hope)
The last time I awoke to an alarm close to 4am was almost ten days ago. I could never have imagined how exciting and liberating life has been in the past week as doors continue to open with the wonderful people and experiences I feel blessed to share in. I’m also beginning to grow accustom to sharing the space in which I sleep and a bathroom after living alone for so long. I thought I would miss my spacious 4-bedroom, 3-bathroom home that I spent the past nine years making my own, but ironically, I have been more concerned with living out the life that I feel I was meant to lead–awaking each day with new experiences to embrace, that exist outside of the realm of routine. I feel as though I am truly living life free. I so badly wish I could share this feeling with everyone I know, and even those that I don’t. It is the most incredible feeling to awake with practically endless possibilities. While I am hopeful to visit every country in Central America, I also have the wonderful knowledge that within a days flight I can wake up in Thailand, Brazil, Kenya, Turkey, New Zealand, and the list remains endless. Having no plan, no specific route, and no timeline of when this incredible journey may come to an end, my previous life focus has shifted from money and materialism to living for change–a change within me that continues daily and hopefully encouraging change and affecting other people’s lives that I have the opportunity to encounter.
Returning from my brief tangent, as I digress, sitting up in relative darkness our lethargic slow-moving group emerges. As I put on my shoes I glance around the room, Tim is still lying in bed, Char looks as though any second she could fall back into a sleep coma, and Kelly is the most active of the three putting on his baseball cap and gathering his backpack. Making the slow climb down the stairs to the lobby there is no need to move stealthily, as you can hear Luis’ dad snoring from the hallway as he sleeps behind the counter on what appears to be just a blanket on the hard tile. Later, I wonder if he has been sleeping in this manner for the past ten years while working at this hotel. The rest of the group continues out the doorway to the front of the hotel to wait for the shuttle, and I notice that Luis is not present. Debating quickly, I poke his father awake as he was supposed to wake him up and apparently had forgotten, or maybe it was out of exhaustion that he failed to be the alarm clock for his son, either way I couldn’t remember his room number and was in no way going to start going around knocking on doors at 4:15am. After just a few nudges his father’s snoring ceases and he comes to life, jumping up quickly and realizing what I was asking, since he spoke no English, I understand cuatro. Running up the steps, I begin tapping quietly and then more loudly on room number four. Within seconds a light flips on that is easily seen in the dark hallway and I tell Luis he has to hurry. I run back down the stairs, out the door, and to the curb, ready to take hostages if that’s what it takes to keep the shuttle from departing without our new friend. Thankfully he makes it with a few minutes to spare, and before we know it, under a moonlight sky, we are on our way to visit the most notorious site in Guatemala.
Returning from my brief tangent, as I digress, sitting up in relative darkness our lethargic slow-moving group emerges. As I put on my shoes I glance around the room, Tim is still lying in bed, Char looks as though any second she could fall back into a sleep coma, and Kelly is the most active of the three putting on his baseball cap and gathering his backpack. Making the slow climb down the stairs to the lobby there is no need to move stealthily, as you can hear Luis’ dad snoring from the hallway as he sleeps behind the counter on what appears to be just a blanket on the hard tile. Later, I wonder if he has been sleeping in this manner for the past ten years while working at this hotel. The rest of the group continues out the doorway to the front of the hotel to wait for the shuttle, and I notice that Luis is not present. Debating quickly, I poke his father awake as he was supposed to wake him up and apparently had forgotten, or maybe it was out of exhaustion that he failed to be the alarm clock for his son, either way I couldn’t remember his room number and was in no way going to start going around knocking on doors at 4:15am. After just a few nudges his father’s snoring ceases and he comes to life, jumping up quickly and realizing what I was asking, since he spoke no English, I understand cuatro. Running up the steps, I begin tapping quietly and then more loudly on room number four. Within seconds a light flips on that is easily seen in the dark hallway and I tell Luis he has to hurry. I run back down the stairs, out the door, and to the curb, ready to take hostages if that’s what it takes to keep the shuttle from departing without our new friend. Thankfully he makes it with a few minutes to spare, and before we know it, under a moonlight sky, we are on our way to visit the most notorious site in Guatemala.
Despite all of the advertising of viewing the sunrise in Tikal by departing Flores at 4:30am, sadly, this is not the case. If you have this desire I suggest camping out in Tikal, and, I was told this same day from a group that did this, they bribed the guards to gain access before visitors were technically allowed in the park where they climbed to the top of one of the temples as the moon was still overhead and through the rising mist of the jungle they were present as the sunlight reclaimed the sky from the darkness. Since we do not have the opportunity to share in this same monumental experience, we feel that some breakfast would be a wise decision before entering the park as some walks between the temples are as much as twenty-five minutes long. A delicious and healthy option in the form of a ham and cheese sandwich on white bread with a cup of coffee is how we all started out the day. The only meal offered for visitors climbing out of the shuttles.
Despite all of the advertising of viewing the sunrise in Tikal by departing Flores at 4:30am, sadly, this is not the case. If you have this desire I suggest camping out in Tikal, and, I was told this same day from a group that did this, they bribed the guards to gain access before visitors were technically allowed in the park where they climbed to the top of one of the temples as the moon was still overhead and through the rising mist of the jungle they were present as the sunlight reclaimed the sky from the darkness. Since we do not have the opportunity to share in this same monumental experience, we feel that some breakfast would be a wise decision before entering the park as some walks between the temples are as much as twenty-five minutes long. A delicious and healthy option in the form of a ham and cheese sandwich on white bread with a cup of coffee is how we all started out the day. The only meal offered for visitors climbing out of the shuttles.
After receiving my serving that I feel should have been accompanied with, “please sir, I want some more,” I am grateful to have some food in my growling tummy. Any grandeur of driving through a gate and coming upon these massive large stone structures reaching towards the sky amid the canopy of dense jungle are all rubbish. The walk before reaching any glimpse of the tops of these historic structures is almost twenty minutes. The first incredible peak that is visible as you come around that last bend is Temple I. On the morning that we make the discovery of Tikal, a mist hangs overhead adding to the mysticism of the civilization that built these incredible structures. I am afraid that despite even the most authentic and accurately detailed description that I can attempt to provide, it still does not represent the whole magnitude of this Mayan site. I can suggest that in order to capture the beauty of Tikal without hordes of people in the background of your photos it is definitely worth waking early and entering the parking before 6:15am. We choose to forego a tour guide and within a few short minutes our group of seven has dispersed into pairs allowing a more comfortable pace for everyone.
Tim and I are the most adventurous climbing every temple, even areas we are unsure we are allowed on top of but because no one is around and saw no signs warning otherwise, feel it best to try our luck and if need be beg for forgiveness later. This strategy proves well and in the end we have some of the best photos of the day. It is now approaching 10:30am, Tim and I are beginning to feel the exhaustion settling in as the humidity increases and the sun is burning through the misty precipitation that held in the cool morning air. Returning back to the restaurant that provided our gourmet breakfast at 6am, we are ravished for an adult-sized meal. Reading through the menu with trucker-sized appetites, we begin debating ordering two, maybe three entrees each, but in the end decide that beginning with just one is still a formidable task. This comes to be a wise decision as it turns out, as our eyes were much larger than our stomachs.
Just after placing our order, like Noah’s ark, two by two the others begin arriving, heat exhausted and famished. The first shuttle arrives at noon, which is an hour after we finish eating, giving us the opportunity to relax a bit. The itis from the self-inflicted food coma is beginning to settle in, and all I can picture is sleeping the entire ride back to Flores. After securing a single-person seat across the aisle from Char that looks perfect to rest my head against the window, a cute blonde makes her way to the back of the bus and occupies the empty seat across from me. Sleep is now the last thing on my mind as the conversation erupts between us the minute she mentions that she has been traveling for the past two years straight, with no end in sight. Infatuated with her story, paired with the hint of an Australian accent, I ask most of the questions as I could listen to her talk all day. Often, Tim would join in the conversation, but I think we were both content with hearing more of what she had to say. After more than an hour of our conversation, that felt like minutes, we are in Santa Elena and she is running off the bus.
Just after placing our order, like Noah’s ark, two by two the others begin arriving, heat exhausted and famished. The first shuttle arrives at noon, which is an hour after we finish eating, giving us the opportunity to relax a bit. The itis from the self-inflicted food coma is beginning to settle in, and all I can picture is sleeping the entire ride back to Flores. After securing a single-person seat across the aisle from Char that looks perfect to rest my head against the window, a cute blonde makes her way to the back of the bus and occupies the empty seat across from me. Sleep is now the last thing on my mind as the conversation erupts between us the minute she mentions that she has been traveling for the past two years straight, with no end in sight. Infatuated with her story, paired with the hint of an Australian accent, I ask most of the questions as I could listen to her talk all day. Often, Tim would join in the conversation, but I think we were both content with hearing more of what she had to say. After more than an hour of our conversation, that felt like minutes, we are in Santa Elena and she is running off the bus.
Later, Tim and I foolishly abash one another for not asking for her name. We are not men, we are boys. Boys. Only in the unique fashion that backpackers tend to migrate, did we learn that her name is Noralay, as both Tim and Char ran into her more than a week later in Livingston after we parted ways in Rio Dulce the day bfore.
If you haven’t noticed, I am writing from weeks behind since I have painfully neglected my journaling, not wanting to miss out on any of the experiences I was sharing in while we had our group of six, better known as Team Cojones. I am frantically typing, in an attempt to preserve these memories, while they are still fresh in my mind, and even as I sit her now in Poptun, I relish in all of the laughs and truly meaningful conversations I’ve had through this current entry. Now that it’s been several days since walking the ruins of Tikal and writing this journal entry, I am reminded of what I was able to do for Luis more than this historic site. I know that when I talk about memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my life this is one of them. Our last day I was also able to help set him up with his first email address and even a Facebook page, which he could not be more excited about. All of the things we often take for granted and how technology has become the driving force for communication–uniting the globe–has now opened a new horizon for a small kid in Flores, Guatemala. This is what I meant when I said, living for change–a change within me that continues daily and hopefully encouraging change and affecting other people’s lives that I have the opportunity to encounter.
If you haven’t noticed, I am writing from weeks behind since I have painfully neglected my journaling, not wanting to miss out on any of the experiences I was sharing in while we had our group of six, better known as Team Cojones. I am frantically typing, in an attempt to preserve these memories, while they are still fresh in my mind, and even as I sit her now in Poptun, I relish in all of the laughs and truly meaningful conversations I’ve had through this current entry. Now that it’s been several days since walking the ruins of Tikal and writing this journal entry, I am reminded of what I was able to do for Luis more than this historic site. I know that when I talk about memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my life this is one of them. Our last day I was also able to help set him up with his first email address and even a Facebook page, which he could not be more excited about. All of the things we often take for granted and how technology has become the driving force for communication–uniting the globe–has now opened a new horizon for a small kid in Flores, Guatemala. This is what I meant when I said, living for change–a change within me that continues daily and hopefully encouraging change and affecting other people’s lives that I have the opportunity to encounter.
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