We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit. – Aristotle
Friday, May 25, 2012 (DAYS 82 – 85)
San Pedro La Laguna is still without power, and since the morning Spanish lesson has been cancelled I’ve decided to spend the morning reading at the pool at Zoolas with my new book. Three and a half hours later and I’ve finally completed page number four of Green Eggs and Ham, don’t act like you’re not impressed. Just after 11am and the surge of electricity returns to Lago de Atitlán and within minutes of the restoration I am within distance of the Wi-fi. Now that technology and communication has been reestablished, the first message I see, is, of course, from one of the dual partners in crime that I met on Utila, Krista shut the front door Braun. Her message was rather surprising and shocking to me, as she professed her undying love for me in what can only be described as disturbing color paintings and some sort of morbid puppet show that was acted out with empty bottles of Gallo and frijoles. Needless to say, I have accepted her self-invitation to come visit me in San Pedro for the weekend with Lexi, because secretly I know that she wishes to upgrade her condiments by giving up gravy for ketchup with her fries. This, however, doesn’t change anything between us as I continue to judge her directly to her face as well as behind her back with a black magic marker in the caballeros baño. You can thank me later Krista.
San Pedro La Laguna is still without power, and since the morning Spanish lesson has been cancelled I’ve decided to spend the morning reading at the pool at Zoolas with my new book. Three and a half hours later and I’ve finally completed page number four of Green Eggs and Ham, don’t act like you’re not impressed. Just after 11am and the surge of electricity returns to Lago de Atitlán and within minutes of the restoration I am within distance of the Wi-fi. Now that technology and communication has been reestablished, the first message I see, is, of course, from one of the dual partners in crime that I met on Utila, Krista shut the front door Braun. Her message was rather surprising and shocking to me, as she professed her undying love for me in what can only be described as disturbing color paintings and some sort of morbid puppet show that was acted out with empty bottles of Gallo and frijoles. Needless to say, I have accepted her self-invitation to come visit me in San Pedro for the weekend with Lexi, because secretly I know that she wishes to upgrade her condiments by giving up gravy for ketchup with her fries. This, however, doesn’t change anything between us as I continue to judge her directly to her face as well as behind her back with a black magic marker in the caballeros baño. You can thank me later Krista.
Saturday afternoon, I’m anxiously waiting for the girls to arrive San Pedro La Laguna from Antigua as I sit in the television/computer room of Little Israel. Finding it unsuccessful in my search for a book that is not in Hebrew, I give up in my quest and just after 1:30pm I decide to peek outside the doorway after hearing some new arrivals to Zoolas, and, just like my life, perfect timing indeed. Upon my first encounter with Lexi, I’m convinced that she’s already mean mugging and I cannot help but go on the offensive by preparing a blue plate special of fisticus if that’s where she wants to take things. Thankfully, no fists are thrown because I’m pretty sure that if things went down it would get ugly and I didn’t want to have to pull out Jack Johnson and Tom O’Leary, but I keep them waiting in the shadows.
Saturday night, and I have a dilemma. I am surrounded by women and I refuse to put up the white flag. My boys back home would be ever so proud, pound it fellas. Looking around the table, I am now flanked on my right by two Aussies, Emm and Alarna, as the rain continues to come down in torrential sheets. Using my better judgment I decide to withhold a premature crop dusting as this special occasion deserves a proper Dutch oven. I know I can be quite the suave gentleman, but I don’t want to overwhelm them too early. And yes ladies, I am single. Our night continues with an enormous amount of laughter as we share in some of the horrendous travel stories that would be inappropriate even for Joe Rogan and Fear Factor. The story, however, that tops the evening comes when Emm asks me if I have been to the notorious (Pee-know Chee-oohs) in San Pedro? Immediately a confused look appears on my face as I use all of my brainpower to decipher this location. Regressing back to my investigative nature in Westminster, Colorado lying on my back in my bedroom with my private collection of Nancy Drew novels, I dig deep to solve the mystery at hand. After a few seconds of deeper thoughts that would embarrass even Jack Handy, I ask for the name once again, (Pee-know Chee-oohs). Putting the equation together just like two plus two is four, I ask her if she means Pinnochio's? This revelation erupts in to laughter that has everyone crying and rolling on the floor. Poor Emm can’t believe it, and even as she is laughing hysterically, she has now immortalized herself in the blog that is slowly growing an audience worldwide, prestige...worldwide.
Sunday brings gloomy grey clouds with a daring robbery after the departure of Krista and Lexi. Returning back to my apartment, I realize that the inside of my pack has a tear and soon notice that a fair portion of money has been taken. Since I am on the second floor and there was no forced entry I can only assume that one of the workers has used their key to enter my place and rummage through my belongings. Feeling violated and full of shame, I calculate that I have just enough Quetzales to get me to El Salvador. First thing Monday morning, I meet Karen and tell her that even though I’ve prepaid for a final week of Spanish lessons, unfortunately I have to discontinue because of the unfortunate circumstances, and she encourages me to contact the police to investigate the situation. After a long afternoon with two police officers and the management, there’s still no resolution and I am still determined to leave San Pedro. For the past week Lindsay and Michelle have begged for me to meet them for sun and surf in El Salvador and like Santa Claus, I am about to give them what they want without sitting awkwardly on my lap.
The day before they left me in Atitlan, Lindsay and I had a day of treasure hunting in some of the local shops which is a cherished past time with my boo back home, Andrea. I still regret not buying the hat that Lindsay picked out personally, because it completed me and I was on the verge of turning on my heart light for it. Ready to throw in the towel on the rainy season of San Pedro La Laguna, I am also excited to be leaving the poo streams of this quiet town in the highlands of Guatemala. Let me explain. When the streets are continuously the toilet for horses, stray dogs, and possibly people alike, the rain tends to send gushing waterfalls of poo water down the cobblestone streets, as it washes over your exposed feet in your flippy floppies. Yes, scrubbing your feet in the shower upon returning home the highest priority when it’s raining, and so, not everything about a backpacker’s life is full or roses and sunshine, but it still beats spreadsheets.
The day before they left me in Atitlan, Lindsay and I had a day of treasure hunting in some of the local shops which is a cherished past time with my boo back home, Andrea. I still regret not buying the hat that Lindsay picked out personally, because it completed me and I was on the verge of turning on my heart light for it. Ready to throw in the towel on the rainy season of San Pedro La Laguna, I am also excited to be leaving the poo streams of this quiet town in the highlands of Guatemala. Let me explain. When the streets are continuously the toilet for horses, stray dogs, and possibly people alike, the rain tends to send gushing waterfalls of poo water down the cobblestone streets, as it washes over your exposed feet in your flippy floppies. Yes, scrubbing your feet in the shower upon returning home the highest priority when it’s raining, and so, not everything about a backpacker’s life is full or roses and sunshine, but it still beats spreadsheets.
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