Para el lago
To the lake.
I ended up staying an extra night in Xela, to get my bearings a bit but also because it was too hard to leave my friends here. I needed one last night of good food and loving company. This is the thing about traveling that I love but that also makes me terribly sad.
While traveling, I meet people who give me their life story and their love before they even know my full name. We´re friends on Facebook and making plans for Stateside visits to each other before we´ve even shaken hands and exchanged names. We´re snuggling in a big bed the morning I leave and we´ve only known each other for a small collection of days.
I love this stark honesty and simple trust of travelers… it´s a state of mind I´ve only come across while on long trips, and in Maine. And it makes leaving for the next location the bittersweet fruit of traveling.
I leave for Lago Atitlán in an hour or less. I´m looking forward to the warmth and the water and the volcano views. I hope I can find a hostel where I won´t be coerced into speaking only English. And I hope I can find my way around and not get horribly lost. I´m sure I´ll be fine, but there´s always a twang of anxiety that accompanies me as I move on to a new location. Can I find it? Will I get robbed on the way? Am I going to have to pee during this 2-5 hour bus ride? Those are the thoughts that tug at my hair and leave me feeling a little uncomfortable as I pack my bag and leave my key on my bed.