if i were a travel writer... i'd write of places near or far... of places i've arrived to by plane, bus, train or car... and along the way, i'll take some photos... and so, here my story goes...

I just want to thank all of you who responded to that first novel of an email. Your perspectives on life are so relative to me right here and I appreciate you sharing them with me. And thank you for reminding me that there are no true coincidences in life. I have decided that San Marcos was not so much coincidental (although more and more of those crazy ironic things kept happening), but I will always look back on it as a magical place. As a matter of fact, today was the first time I took off my (prescription) sunglasses during the day while looking at Lake Atitlan. Seriously, this lake keeps changing... or maybe it is me who is changing and seeing it differently each time I look at it. But this morning, waking up on a hammock on the second floor of a veterinarian office (don't ask... you know I'll tell you anyway!), I thought the lake looked mysterious. Later in the day, as I took the boat from San Marcos to San Pedro, it still looked dark, but intriguing. It is so interesting how the clouds are still over the mountain and volcano tops. It is as if they are protecting them, in some way. At times when I am on the lake, I have some flashbacks of Halong Bay, which was one of the most peaceful memories I have from my Vietnam trip. But this lake, as I mentioned before, is different - it's moody. And today, sitting on the top tier of the boat back to San Pedro from Santiago, I took my sunglasses off and all of a sudden it was like this blue purple hue was coming up from the lake and it just felt like I was in this magical place. San Marcos. That is definitely a magical place. I swear, I tried to leave there yesterday for fear that I would get "stuck" there and never leave. But I got back to my hotel two hours after check out and they told me I would have to pay for it, even if I did leave. So, eventhough the room was only Q80 (probably equivalent to $11-12), I thought I was running fairly low on my quetzal (there are no ATM machines in San Marcos) and should probably just stay put in San Marcos for another evening. I asked for a map and decided to explore the other two Barrios (1 & 2) before it got dark. I came across a place I heard the three California boys talking about - Happy Taco - 2 tacos for Q10. ¿Are you kidding me? I walked by once and thought about how hungry I was and how cheap Q10 was, and made a U-turn for some tacos. I saw this guy inside that I assumed worked there and asked, ¿Puedo comer? He was completely confused and eventually pulled up a chair and said, "Sure, you can eat with me." So, I sat down and kind of laughed about the whole thing - thinking he worked there and asking if I could eat and the whole confusion since he does not really speak Spanish... or English. Yeah, him and his friend (who also joined us at the table) are from France. I swear, even as far from NY as I am, I cannot get away from the French (kidding Jean-Rene). So, anyway, they have their pizza... I have my delicious tacos (which by the way, with a drink only cost Q15 which I think is only $2)... and then they ask me if I want to go check out where they are staying because it is up in the hill and there is a great view of the lake and volcanos. I say, "Sure. As long as I am back before dark... (and turn into a pumpkin, ha)." So we go for this walk. I mean, the hills that we are walking up are comparable to Seattle and San Francisco. And they are cobblestoned, and I can hardly keep from panting, but at the same time, I am trying to talk to my new French friends - Antonio and Benjamin. Finally, we get to a wall that says, "AL CLINICA DE LOS PERROS" and Antonio says, in a French accent, "so, here we are." And of course, I am just floored by the coincidence or fate or whatever it is of being brought up to a dog clinic of all places. I ask to meet the owner and speak to Anna, the vet that was closing up. There are three dogs that live at the clinic/house - Canela (cinnamon), Miel (honey) and the one I named because it was blind in one eye - Ciego. Anyway, she says the biggest problem with the dogs in San Marcos is stomach tumors, but the chemotherapy and/or surgery is so expensive, that not many owners are able to help their pets. Plus, the clinic is so far up the hill (you thought I was kidding!) that it is not very convenient for people to get to with their sick dogs. So sad. So, I go back downstairs to where Antonio and Benjamin are - they have this 23 year old rum that I agree to try and it is actually, very smooth. But the bottle is finished fairly quickly because so many other people begin to arrive. Mind you, all from France, most from Paris. There is Marian (finally another girl to hang out with), her boyfriend El Duende (have no clue what that means), Ingrid (the only Guatemalan), her boyfriend (from France... funny story about how they are actually together. I do not think I will share it here...)... and then enters this older man with a grey beard - they call him the Magician, but I like to think of him as a wizard. He was actually at my hotel during breakfast on the patio and I snuck a photograph of him because he looked so interesting, so of course - why would he not be here at this gathering? The night was filled with conversations in a combination of French, Spanish and the English translations that they were so kind to offer. We drank red wine from Chile.... watched the magician/wizard build a fire in a hollow rock... noticed that although there were no stars in the sky, the lightening bugs in the trees made it look like Christmastime... we spoke about life and traveling and city vs. country life and death and the end of the world and again, life. Antonio made us all a platter of cheese and ham and cooked us a pot of rice with tomatoes and onions... and stabbed 8 forks and spoons in it for us all to share (boy am I glad I am over my germophobe phase). Before I knew it, it was way past the sunset and there was no way I was going to walk back to my hotel, flashlight or not. I do not remember the last time I slept outside... or if I ever have... I definitely do not remember ever sleeping in a hammock... and even if I did, it was not on the second floor of a house overlooking a beautiful lake and volcano. But last night, that is where I was... and I do not know if I even got any sleep because I remember getting up to adjust myself on the hammock... and gauge just how close to the edge of the porch I was... I remember hoping the creaking sounds I heard were not the ropes that were holding my hammock (and me) up... I remember right before the patio lights went off, lifting my sleeping bag and seeing what honestly looked like a cockaroach on my hammock - but it was this really black and really beautiful cockaroach (I swear, I have not gone crazy). I thought twice about even tossing it off the hammock two flights down, but eventually did. Throughout the night, there were sounds of dog fights... and dogs howling... and then the rainstorm... and every time I woke up, I wondered when the sun would rise. That is really what I wanted to see from this second floor hammock. Finally, I heard the roosters crowing and the prayer chants, and knew it was time to wake up. I sat there writing in my journal as the sun was rising. And then I left, as if it was some one-night stand... that I had shared with 7 other people. The walk down the hill was 10 times worse than the walk up the hill. I felt like I was on the expert slope at Camelback Mountain, except the snow was cobblestone and what should have been my skis (in a pizza shape the whole way down) were my sandals. It was even worse watching a Guatemalan man pass me going down like it was no thing. How in the world can people get used to that sort of walk, with no banister or anything at all to hold on to? I was ready to get on my culito and slide the whole way down. But I did not. After all, it was daytime. I get down and find my way back home and decide to sleep for a few hours before the patio opened for breakfast at 8am. Even on comfortable, stationary bed, I felt my body swaying. I hope there are no long-term effects to sleeping on a hammock! Anyway, after breakfast I remember I have a 10am appointment at the Holistic Center with Hazel. They had all different types of massages and therapies and I decided to do this Kinesthiology "thing" - she explained it as a mixture of chiropractic work and Eastern medicine. Basically, she asked me some questions (as perhaps a counselor or "life coach" would) and we set a goal for the session. Then she did some muscle testing... and really, a lot came out. A lot more than I am willing to share here in this big, massive email. But the purpose was to balance all of my energies. And let's just say I feel balanced. And I think that sort of technique is amazing, really. So, I left finally left the "magic" of San Marcos and came here to San Pedro, which has a reputation for being one big "party." I really do not know why I am here. And I do not know exactly where the party is, but I guess the night is young (at least in San Pedro). I took a quick trip over to Santiago Atitlan earlier today so that tomorrow I can head on a 9am bus back to Antigua and meet Kate for some pre-wedding manicures and pedicures. You know, I was thinking (eventhough I am not supposed to be "thinking"), I think I did this trip opposite. Like the author of "eat. pray. love," Elizabeth (can't remember her last name)... it seems like she had the right order down. I mean, I think San Marcos was sort of an "India" for me... and well, San Pedro has the potential to be an "Italy" in a way. But hey, I guess I was meant to pray before eating, so to speak. Trying to keep this one short =) I will be in Antigua tomorrow and Saturday (for the wedding) and will head to either Monterrico (beach on the Pacific) or Coban in Alta Verapaz. We shall see. - Deanna