Irrational Adventures

The sounds of games –past and present- pounding on the cobblestone streets is felt rather than heard. Blazing heat combines with the heady aroma of different dishes being cooked by the residents in the brightly painted houses. The setting is completed with the raspy cough of dusty old trucks driving down streets teeming with those who arrived home for the holiday and adventure seeking tourists. We lay in the cool sidewalk, an unlikely group of 4, shaded by a tree leaning on a tall and unpolished wall. 3 boys under the age of 14 entertained the college girl staying in their house with outlandish stories of their family. It started with an innocent question, “Have you seen the ruins?” uttered by the youngest. It was the 4th time I had visited the charming town overseeing the Mayan ruins; of course I had visited them previously.
“How long ago?” another one asked.
“Does it matter?” I countered, “They don’t change, do they?”
They took that statement as my desperate plea to see them again. We left the comfort of our shade with assurances that we weren’t far away. We walked, sweat pooling on our necks and a bitter mango clutched on my hand. Sunburned, we wandered through the wilderness that surrounds the acropolis, searching for an anonymous trail. My efforts rewarded with majestic tales of stony faced warriors, shady priests, calculating gods and splendid beauties shrouded in jewel-tinted feathers. They painted a world of magic weaving their words with the calls of birds. They bowed respectfully at random rocks (one of which they made a show of telling me was used by the national hero Lempira as a weapon against the man his girlfriend was cheating on him with) and declare modern things ancient. The ancient ruin city of the Mayans patiently stood while it’s mysteries were laid out in unreal and elaborate tales at the mouths of children, and I watch delighted with leaves on my hair, mud on my shorts and scrapes on my knees how an entire new world was done in my benefit.