Don't wade, don't test the waters, just JUMP!

One of the few things I bought in Chiapas before leaving was a natural fiber journal, knowing that eventually my traveling one would run out of paper. As I write in it now, I feel as though it represents a new section, a new phase of my life. I wonder if the tequila bottle that broke in my bag, making 3 months of ink vanish from the pages and into the Houston airport was encouraging me to move forward. So here I sit, neither moving forward nor back, just stationary, for the moment. But only for the moment. Only one day to rest and then I throw myself back into the rush of American life. Feeling loved and appreciated, but mostly just overwhelmed.

And so I jump right back into the double shifts, being paid to smile, into dancing from one social adventure to the next, without even enough time to simply decorate with Mom, empty my bag, or breathe. I want to scream and cry and sing and don't feel like I even have time for that. A new me in the old circle. I can't begin to express myself or the differences between the cultures, the surroundings. Overwhelmed, overstimulated, overworked. But then I stop. As I did so many times while traveling. I take some deep breaths, refocus, recenter, smile, and appreciate the beauty of the people, the places, everything. It is all beautiful. Different, intense, and beautiful.

Day 93: Bittersweetness

The runway is wet from the rain and it fits. I will not miss Cancun or the duty free store that sucked me to my last peso. But I will miss so much more. Even when it rains here it is still beautiful. But I can see Mike's words in my head, "enjoy your time and know you have much to look forward to when you return." And I do.

So I fly home alone, the 4 of us go our separate ways with no idea of what is to come, only the feeling that were ready. Even now, as the plane rolls along the runway, green surrounds. I have difficulty imagining the bare branches, the snow, the blue sky turned grey. And yet I am excited. Sometimes I don't know why, but I'll realize it soon enough.

A strange mixture of independence and loneliness. When it started I never imagined the ending and now that it's over I can't imagine what's next. One day at a time. Today I'll fly home. See 4 beautiful people. Organize my pics. Unpack my bag. Drink bourbon.

Day 92: Riviera Maya

My last full day in Mexico and I feel so far removed from Mexican culture I wonder if the last 91 days were a dream. The only sign of familiarity comes from talking with the maid, which forces me to speak in Spanish. Puerto Aventuras, a private condo community located on the Riviera Maya between Playa del Carmen and Tulum, is my last home away from home. The sand is white and thick like putty or dried frosting, the water turquoise, and the private property signs along the beach are royal blue and obviously being ignored by yours truly. Perhaps one may call this paradise, personally I find it disgusting. Where are the vendors selling nuts, hammocks, and jewelry? Where are the specialized street shops (panaderia, zapateria, papeleria)? Where is the market? And why, for the love of god, are the prices for everything in U.S. dollars? But really, it is beautiful. I would simply prefer a view of mountains to condos. The one thing that does feel familiar and comforting is the question, "how the hell am I getting to the airport tomorrow?" I was told to, "Walk to the highway, get on a bus, then at some point get off the bus (on the highway) and wait for another bus..." ok!

A mix of emotions and I wonder what I'll miss the most. The ocean, my friends, the stress free life of traveling (does that even make sense?), the market, the sun. I don't know what is next for me. I gave up thinking about that a long time ago. I do know that there is an amazing family waiting for me. There is also a job that feels like family. I know that I am ready for something, but the vast array of endless possibilities frightens me just a little, and excites me a lot. But I don't know if I'm ready to handle America. Life here feels slower, it feels right. What an amazing experience. I feel in a sense that by leaving I am taking my travels and throwing them away. I have learned so much and I need to carry these lessons everywhere I go. I feel proud of myself for really leaving. Taking a voyage without a plan. Being flexible to pick up and go to a new destination or stay as long as desired. And so I cry now and know not why. Maybe it's the knowledge that I'll be stuck inside, hiding from the cold grey winter, or not knowing when I'll see my girls. Maybe it is the fear of the unknown-but I love the unknown.

Day 88: On heading home

Recently we have traveled to Antigua and Xela (pronounced Shayla), Guatemala. I have loved both. Only in Xela 24 hours and I hear Andrea's slightly under the weather voice in my ear, "I want to live here." Me too. A very large city that feels more like a German X-mas village. It may or may not have anything to do with the fact that it is December.

It is December. Today a 30 minute walk with Jo into the countryside made me think of what I'll miss and what I look forward to. We do a lot of that lately. "Imagine actually being able to talk on the phone." Or "I'll miss wanting tortillas, walking a block and having them warm and fresh inmy hand." That and the many bakeries. I could go on and on. Guatemala is different from Mexico, but in many aspects it is very similar. I will miss much from both.

Today it hit me. Hard. Like a brick wall or maybe a basketball in the face. It's almost over. We were preparing dinner, Andrea and I, and I started to really freak out. So I ran out the door, for fresh air and to search for Tostadas and Johanna, both very important.

I find a strange sense of comfort in not knowing what tomorrow or even today will bring. In finding routine through bakeries, market trips, and exploring new cities. Waking up and traveling or waking up and arriving in a new unknown place is a beautiful way of life. Andrea reminds me that going home is not ending the trip, for every day is part of the exploration, the voyage of life. That I can keep traveling, this is simply another stop along the way. Perhaps it is this response that keeps me from tearing up and helps me to refocus on dinner. I both fear and look forward to what is next, the unknown. Or maybe it is the constant question I will hear after my journey. But this is my journey and it will continue to be my journey.

I really just want to cry and make everything make sense. Live the way I live, knowing tomorrow will be beautiful, because it will. I want to jump past the culture shock of American life. Never in my dreams did I imagine this experience would be as beautiful as it has been, I am very lucky. For I have so much to look forward to: bourbon by the fireplace, snow in the streets, and hugs. So many hugs.

Day 85: Rio Dulce

It was time to leave the Caribbean coast, so we decided to leave on the popular "Rio Dulce": take the river boat through the winding jungle, pass through the nature reserve, stop at the delicious hot springs, soak in the sun. Well, not so much. 20 minutes into it and we had our chest to our knees, covered in plastic as the rain and wind attacked at all sides. So much for that Caribbean boat ride.

Day 84: 7 Altares

Broke with desires. We'd heard beautiful things about the jungle tour: walk through the jungle to the 7 altares, jump off the water fall into the fresh water pools, pay money you don't have. So we decided to take the voyage on ourselves. 3 hours, sea shells in pockets, and sun absorbed later we entered the jungle and walked barefoot along the slippery delicious stones. The water: refreshing, clear, and encouraging. We walked until we could jump. Looking at my friends, slightly afraid of heights, I wondered who would be the first to jump off the falls into the pool below. "I'll take your picture," Andrea said, as I peered over the edge. My response: "OK!," as I went flying into the perfect pool of clarity. I layed there floating, peering up at the trees opening up to the sky and everything just felt right. I'm a fish, what more can I say.

Day 83: Museo de Livingston

A Museum with a history of the cultures of Livingston is located near the dock. Although the pictures, musical artifacts and history runs deep, the translations of the history left me hysterically confused. Most paragraphs contained the phrase "You/he/she/it" several times, without a necessity for a single one. It made less than sense. My "You/he/she/it" interest for the different African and Latino cultures, however, grew as I understood words with out a storyline.

It was the perfect rainy day activity.

Day 83:Guatemala

10 days left and I feel a strange inability to write. A mixture of proximity to leaving, and lacking the energy Mexico radiates. For the first time in 3 months I feel like a tourist, checking out the sites, paying for a bed, talking only to other travelers. I love to learn new places but now understand why Mexico holds such a special place in peoples hearts. However, Guatemala holds unique beauty of its own.

Covered in jungle, rain forest, delicious green beauty, whether on foot, boat, van, or bus, I find myself always peering with a strange glow in my eye. I yearn to trek through the intense green that covers every mountain we weave through and when I find myself actually surrounded I wonder if it's really make believe.

We've spent over 3 days in Livingston, located on the Guatemalan border with the Caribbean sea, between Honduras and Belize. A village with a mixture of 4 different cultures, tourism on the main strip, and beautiful community through the remaining space.