Day 80: The Ruins of Tikal

Amazing. The largest of the ancient ruined cities of the Mayan civilization. To simply try and imagine a people building something so amazing, living in a time so different is absolutely astounding. Walking through the jungle from one structure to another gave me a sense of peace, a sense of curiosity. And then suddenly we'd come upon a clearing, another structure, and people would abound, once again a tourist, surrounded by other tourists. But it was fun. Eventually we came to a section called the "Gran Plaza,"structures upon structures upon...as Andrea called it, "a playground." We ran up and down stairs, in and out of temples, trying to get to the highest point, around corners and suddenly again you were in the jungle watching monkeys in the trees. As Jo and I ascended our last structure for the day, a dark cloud turned into a dark sky, sprinkles turned into a storm and the tree we met Andrea under didn't keep us dry enough to try. So we went running through the buckets pouring on our head, avoiding puddles as best we could, running in a direction we hoped led to the exit. It did. And as soon as we got there the rain ceased, obviously.

Day 78: Clouds across borders

Chiapas has clouds like I've never seen before and everytime I think back to my time in Chiapas, I will see the clouds.

We drive through the winding hills as the clouds mingle with the mountain tops. Perfectly thick. I peer out the window and down into the valley (or is it a river) as the fog settles inbetween the mountainous structures and living shrubbery. A perfect earthly balance. The sun has just set and I wonder why I have spent so much time in the cities, knowing what lies outside the concrete parks, the women selling cloth, the children selling cigarettes. It is so deliciously beautiful. By the time we get a flat tire the clouds have covered the sky, light from the sun is obsolete. We spend the night in a room with 2 beds and a concrete floor on the border. In the morning we head into Guatemala and as we drive through the villages upon a dirt road for 4 hours, I am once again amazed by the clouds. However, this time something else takes my breath: the overgrowth of diversity. And it's everywhere. No order, no control. Just plush green beauty.

Times like this I wish i had the skills of a true writer, to express my feelings, my view into words, to take the breathlessness, the overwhelming joy, the glow from my soul, my eyes, and reproduce it on paper. But clouds like these, and diversity through growth, and crowded guatemalan buses are meant to be experienced.

Day 74-5: Turkey day

The clouds engulf the mountains beneath the nearly full moon, thick fluffy, dark, beautiful, as we walk quickly to La Cruz (the cross), known as the meeting spot in the city, familiar, but this time slightly different surroundings as we are walking from our newest couch surfing house, to be our fifth home in one week. Each place has had its own special perk, this one has many: very close to the zocalo, yet you can nearly reach the forest (with your hand, literally), a real backyard, we're talking grass here folks-like the real stuff, and a picnic table-I know, it's almost too much to handle, and a beautiful view of the city from the bedroom window. Walking past the quiet shops I realize I do not miss black friday back home (day after thanksgiving, blitz day, buy nothing day, an anti materialists hell).

Turkey Day
We woke up early enough to pack our stuff, take it to the peace house and get to the garden outside of the city by 9am. Roberto had stopped by the previous night to let us know it was time to move on out of the hotel. We of course spent our last night in our kingdom cooking tacos con papas, taking hot showers, and enjoying comfort. We spent 5 hours at the garden, pulling weeds, planting onions, seperating rediculous amounts of worms from soil, and talking with the 2 guys who work there. http://findingbirdsinforests.blogspot.com/2007/11/gracias-la-vida.html The garden is small and connected to a vegetarian organic restaurant in the city. Volunteers at the garden receive a free ticket to the lunch buffet, and so we had our (first) T-day feast. The second came in the form of a dinner party. The food, again vegetarian, was as far from a thanksgiving dinner as the house was from Mexican culture.

Although it was spent with near strangers, familiar feelings surounded me: being overly full and yet taking one more helping of my favorite dish (and then another), sipping wine over simple talk, taking turns getting stuck in conversations while trying to leave and an hour later you've said goodbye to the same person at least 3 times. And I am reminded of how traditions bring me home, keep me comfortable. But this year, unlike last, I do not pine for family or love or board games. I know I will be with it soon enough. I know I have TG dinners for the rest of my life, and I find comfort in the fancy condo rented by 3 Seattle writers, filled with travelers, with the only connection to TG being the heat from the oven and the sign on the door that says "Genocide - Poverty - Hunger - NO THANKS NO GIVING! What are you celebrating? Give thanks everyday"....an anti imperialist thanksgiving dinner.

Day 72: Lucky ladies

An awkward and unwelcome interaction at the Peace House sent us to the next couchsurfer on our list, Roberto. He works at a hotel 4 blocks from the Zocalo and lives with the ideal that space should be filled, no one should be without a bed when there is one available. And there just happens to be one available...at his hotel. Karma is working on our behalf and we must have done something really right. More like an apartment, the hotel room has 2 floors, kitchen, living room with fireplace, upstairs bedroom with the cleanest bathroom in Mexico, with hot water 24hrs a day! Re-dic-u-lous. And free. We are here until the person who lives here returns (he may or may not know we are staying here).

Chiapas is known for its natural beauty, one of the reasons I was drawn here. Today we took another day trip, this time to El Rancho Nuevo. 15 minutes outside of the city, covered with enough pine trees to encourage deep breathing and makes me scream "MICHIGAN!" as we enter. While there we ate pinapple on a log, wandered through a cave while dancing to keep warm, and sat on a hill surrounded by pines. Just lovely.

Moving forward and staying present

We rarely plan for tomorrow, and then spend hours searching and applying for jobs. We have long talks with strangers about having free spirits, traveling forever, living different lives in a different generation (than our folks), and then speak with lovers and parents about futures. It's about ideals and reality, love in so many different forms, across borders, through physical, mental, and spiritual. It's about beauty, of people, culture, country, soul. It's about waking up and listening to the sun, the wind, but most importantly yourself.

Day 70: San Cristobal de las Casas

These days I travel only with Andrea, and occasionally with friends we meet along the way. There exists an understanding between us that comes from time and common interests. Sometimes that interest is simply to relax and wander, occasionally it involves taking care of each other through health, language, and relaxation, but it always involves going wherever the wind may take us. Our history simply aids us in communicating efficiently and reading each others minds when necessary.

Since arriving on Friday in San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas, we have been staying at a place called the Peace House, basically a place for international volunteers. However, since we arrived it has only been us, and Zachary and Evan, two Indiana boys we met back in D.F. The space is nice as it gives us opportunity for relaxation and comfort. The only annoyance is a kitten who never seems to stop meowing and likes to poop everywhere.

Yesterday (Saturday), the evening was spent enjoying a dinner party with fellow travelers, filling up on guacamole while cooking spaghetti and beets, and sipping wine over conversations with old, fairly new, and very new friends. From Seattle, Frisco, Chi town, Germany, Mexico, and Michigan, we found commonalities in a dimly lit room with a fireplace in the corner, a table perfect for 8, and warmth from the stove.

Today (Sunday), I temporarily filled my craving for nature. 4km from the Zocalo is the Huitepec Ecological Reserve, filled with evergreen oaks that twist at the base and climb up to an elevation of 2700m into a cloud forest. After taking a combi (refurbished cheap van) to the entrance of the reserve, we made the climb, stopping occasionally at questions on wood stands, like, "these trees are different than the ones before, do you notice the difference?". The elevation made it occasionally difficult to breath and left me feeling light headed and glowing. The strange colorful cupped leaves covered the trails, reminding me of Michigan fall. I imagined myself, once again, walking through Kalamazoo trails, breathing deeply, taking it all in. And I realized that although I long for home, I know it is not yet time.

I have learned much, about the culture, about myself, about what is next for me. But there is a level of peace, of balance, of patience, of love that I feel is lacking. Although I know I can find this on my return, I feel that I need to challenge myself to reach further, to become these things in the presence of traveling, in the absence of familiarity and comfort. I find myself slipping from focus. With a plane ticket in hand I think too much of what is to come, but it is the here and now, the present in which I live, in which focus must reside.

Day 65 & 66: Monday night at Nueva Babel

We decide to stay in Oaxaca through Monday so we can see this guitar player. Andrea assures me he is so full of life and happiness I will not regret the experience. We have a habit of saying we're leaving "tomorrow" and three days later we are still saying, "we are leaving tomorrow." And so now, three days later...we are leaving for San Cristobal tomorrow, to arrive on friday morning.

But the guitar player...Leo, his eyes shine with so much vibrance you think you are looking into the beauty of the sun, he laughs...all the time and his whole body laughs with him and it makes the whole room fill with happiness. "Every sound that isn't Leo's laugh is an empty sound," my traveling companion blurts out one night at dinner. So I obviously don't regret the experience or the rest of the night.

We stay up until 8am dancing and laughing: Leo, Andrea, Leo's friends, and Misty (a beautiful woman from Seattle who has a soul so full of energy and excitement I glow just to be in her presence). It's too late or early to return to our couchsurfing house (a 60yr old women who works 2 jobs and has a nephew we never see, who never opens the door for us. The fence to the house is too high to climb and jump, we've tried). So Andrea and I sleep on a friend of Leos' couch, I guess that's what couch surfing is all about.

We spend the morning curled up under numerous blankets, talking over tea and toast with Paco's mom, or maybe his aunt. We spend the afternoon at a sushi place. Leo plays guitar there sometimes, so we get the sushi free of charge. I sit soaking up the sun, eating sushi, and drinking beer, while Paco plays the flute, Leo laughs, and Andrea and I bask in our happiness.

Day 63: Back in Oaxaca City

Travelers find travelers. It is a beautiful part of traveling. I spent one week at the beach, five days which were spent alone, met 6 washingtonites, 3 swedish gals, and 1 virginia gent. Shared stories, philosophies, and cookies. Although I miss the ocean I can still feel myself diving into her waves, being pulled to and fro by here energy, and taste her salty waters. I do not , however, miss the nightly bug bites in the hammock. I cherish my moments spent there, the friends made, the choppy spanish used. But as quickly as my feet moved through the hot sand to be cooled by her waters, something inside of me new it was time to move on.

After bidding the ocean adieu, I stepped off an 8 1/2 hour bus ride once again. But this time I did not step into suffocating heat, quite the opposite really. I knew I had been asleep for awhile, but was it possible that I was back in Michigan? The language answered the question, and I immediately wondered what the hell was I thinking to leave La Playa and the warmth behind. I immediately ripped my bag open and put on all the (slightly sandy) layers I could muster, stepped into a cab (for warmth) and headed to the zocalo (city center).

It was 7am, as I waited an hour and a half for my Andrea to find me, I shared the one sunny bench I could find with 2 old mexican men, them with their breakfast tacos, me with my headpones and bouncing knees.

The day was hazy, or maybe we were hazy, wondering the streets, visiting the same delicious organic market for 2 meals and arriving at casa chapulin for a presentation, an amazing meal, and news that made all the bug bitten hammock nights and bus sleeping grogginess worthwhile. While I was in Playa San Augustinillo having an inkling to return to my amigas, they had made friends with a band. To make a long story short, we had a free hotel room for the night: 2 beds, a pool, and mexican buffet breakfast included...very fancy. Shortly after arriving at the hotel we made friends with 2 musicians and 1 crazy spaniard, musical entertainment lasted late into the night. And just to top it off, the next day the sun shone warm on us as we laid with our very full bellys next to the pool.

Day 60 & 61: Reflections at the Ocean

So many emotions and feelings I don't know how to write, where to start. I feel alone in this world, yet know that is so far from the truth. And it is not the solitary position I find mysef , but perhaps the lack of communication from the outside. I try to think of what is next for me and endless possibilities frighten me. I consider finding some kind of office job, ideally a receptionist position for some kind of holisitc professional, and I worry that I will get sucked in to the process we are taught in school, from our parents, from society: school, job, career, reproduce (there might be a few others). I wonder if I'm ready and I think about all the ideas I had when I was younger, being a river guide, working at camps. So I go online to get an idea of what's out there, and I realize I'm exactly where I was a year ago (hopefully with more maturity), looking for work away from home, while knowing it is home I pine for. That when I return I will be reminded of everything I love and missed and will once again get sucked in. And yet I am torn because I see myself ending up in the midwest and realize now is the time for my adventures. I meet people with lifestyles that excite me and wonder what there presence or passing through in my life represents. Maybe it is just a reminder of the endless possibilities.

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We are taught what is beautiful. As I look around me I see paradise, beauty. But I know that it is interaction, people that make life beautiful. I look out and see palm trees, the ocean, rocks, sunshine, mountains, it is amazing, and for only 30 pesos, I get this, a hammock, solitude. Yet I will return to grey, cold, beautiful Michigan. A different kind of beauty, one that I have trouble puting into words, but feel so deeply inside.

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An insight through medititation reminded me of how insignificant I am, we all are. How it doesn't matter, it is okay for me to simply be right now. The ocean is huge and I am but one wave, affected by the energy of my environment, of the people I interact with and in my movement, in my energy I affect those in my path. That is all.

Day 56: Mazunte Beach

An 8 1/2 bus ride from Oaxaca to Pochutla and I barely manage to wake up enough to stumble off the bus. It is 7:30 in the morning. We gather our belongings and continue on foot to find a camioneta (refurbished pick up truck) to finish our journey to the Mazunte beach.

The beach here is beautiful, with restaurant/bars 50ft from the shore and rocks big enough to keep you from voyaging too far down the beach. The waves are vicious and make me think twice before entering, but they are so captivating that I can not keep from staring, and when the heat hits me I jump out of my sandals, throw off my sarong and go running into her beautiful waves. It is very calm here, the village hardly even a village, just one street with a few convenience type stores and restaurants.

The restaurant/bars near the shore all act as hostels as well, offering hammocks, tents or rooms. The room we are currently staying in is a loft, with a palmetto roof and mosquito netting covering the bed. However, soon I will find myself a lovely hammock over looking the ocean.

I find it difficult even now, after 2 months of traveling to relax. To know that it is okay to simply be. However, I know it is here, where this fish can swim, that I will find my balance.

Day 52: Halloween on the farm

Location: Atlixco, Puebla

After the cab dropped us off on the side of the highway, we patiently waited for our ride. The four of us (Andrea, Johanna, Aliisa, & I) stood there, chilled, and excited, with unknown expectations. We were headed to the farm Amolia had worked at over the summer to drink honey wine, I knew nothing more. We stood there waiting for Kumara, Amolia had described her as a woman with glowing rays of light shooting out of her, holding a baby, and driving jeep. She was right. Kumara was beautiful, with buzzed silver-blonde hair, singing to her child, to the world, with an aura so magnificent and calm. She radiated balance.

We arrived at the farm around 8:30 and layed under the stars as we waited for the others. The night was young as the chill sent us under our covers. We slept in a hexagon shaped building with 12 beds coming out from the walls like rays of sunshine. In the middle, an array of candles and flowers.

The next morning we arose to watch the sun rise reflect on the volcano. It was my first real view of the farm and of the countryside that surrounded us. The smoke crawled slowly out of the volcano as if to match the pace of my brain. I went back into the hexagon to find warmth and await the sound that meant time for a new day to begin.

The morning comenced with simple yoga stretches and movements, reminding me the importance of breath, of finding balance and renewing my connection to the earth. We also found a connection to the music and to each other with a couple simple dances that reminded me of folk dancing at camp, making a complete circle and linking me to my roots.

The farm was small and felt more like a yoga retreat. It was surrounded with natural beauty. Projects included working on the dirt/sand foundation for a sweat lodge, pulling weeds while singing songs, and shaking lettuce seeds out of their plant. Meals and cleaning were of course done through cooperation.

Before dinner we felt halloween in our blood, so we did the best we could with what we had available. I, of course, was a Princess. I made a crown from pretty weeds, my sarong, and a flower for decoration. There was also a traveler, french artist, and a medley of women with mustaches, and men in skirts among us.

After dinner we headed to the village, on the way we hitched a ride on the back of a horse pulled wagon. We used internet in the nearby village of Atlixco and wandered back to the farm. The night continued with singling and playing song in the hexagon, Andru Bemis sing alongs, sharing stories, and drinking tequila and wine. Amolia's wine gave me a warmth that reminded me of cold Michigan nights.

The whole experience, merely 2 nights and 1 day, was absolutely wonderful, unfortunately I spent so much time on projects, I did not take enough time to really take it all in. But it definately gave me a reminder of my need for nature, and a realization of the concrete in which I have thus far been surrounded. I can only imagine the balance and kindness that would arise if we were surrounded by nature for all our days. A dream or a possibility...

The next morning three of the eight of us left for Oaxaca with soar bodies from the manual labor. The rest stayed to take in more of the beauty. Why didn't I stay? It's simple really: I must find the ocean before my money runs out.