So, I didn’t quite make it to the top of volcano Tajumulco. Soon you’re going to know why. But I have to warn you first: this story is neither nice nor funny (oh well, certain people might find it funny). It’s also a bit gross, so if you’re about to eat, I suggest you postpone reading this. It’s also kind of private, but since I have no problem with making a fool out of myself in public, I will share the story with you.
My story begins Wednesday morning before the sunrise. We are all packed and ready to go; we need to take two separate buses to reach the point where to start hiking. Tajumulco is Central America’s highest peak and is located close to the Mexican border. So, first we took one chicken bus (these are old school busses from USA which are packed tightly with too many people) for an hour to San Marcos, where we enjoyed our breakfast. After that it was another chicken bus for two hours to Tajumulco.
About an hour on the hike I was feeling really bad, and soon after threw up my breakfast. At that point I already realized I would not be climbing to the peak. Feeling disappointed and nauseas, I started the descent. Wasn’t so easy though, I had to stop to throw up and use the bushes for toilet few times.
But that was nothing compared to total of three hours in a chicken bus. Squeezed tightly on the bench, I threw up like three times on the bus. Luckily I had a plastic bag with me, so I didn’t make a mess. When I finally made it to Xela, it was pouring rain. I was carrying 15 kilos on my back and a bag of vomit in my hand. There are no trash bins in Guatemala: everyone just throws the trash on the streets. But I am a Finn and could not even imagine leaving my vomit on the street (okay, I know many Finns will have no problem with that).
The streets were flooding. Because of the high number of trash on the streets and gutters, the sewage system does not work. So after half an hour of rain the city is flooding like crazy. So there I was, walking in the rain, in the flood, trying to figure out a way to get to my hostel before I needed to throw up again. I did not have enough money for taxi, but I took one anyway.
So, I survived. And I heard stomach problems are very common in Guatemala. It’s how they welcome you: bienvenidos a Guatemala, here’s a stomach bug for you!
Today is good Friday, and Semana Santa (the holy week), which means all places are closed. It’s a very big deal around here. All gringos and young people went to San Pedro for weekend to party. I stayed in my hostel, probably the only one, because my stomach does not let me travel yet.
I found a book on the shelf here that I’ve wanted to read for ages: One hundred years of solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Hopefully I can dive into that one during very calm weekend to come.
Between me being sick and feeling bad I haven’t really had time to feel anything else. So I am not quite yet sure how I feel about being here. It’s exciting, for sure, but I find myself missing home quite often. I miss clean and working bathrooms, healthy food, proper heating system… Just about anything. However the scenery here is breathtaking. And I never expected everything to be so easy. I’ve had it easy for a long time on my travels.
In the midst of these thoughts I realize I want to feel like I belong. I want to feel home. But my home is not necessarily a place somewhere. It’s a feeling. I want to find that feeling.
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