🐌 ~> 🦋

 It’s been 10 weeks since l arrived in Mexico. That's one month in Mexico and 6 weeks in 4 other countries - Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and now, here in Costa Rica. Plus I drove through Honduras on my way from El Salvador to Nicaragua. This is fast. I don't usually travel this way. As implied by the title of my blog, I like to go slowly, like a snail. I like to really get a sense of a place when I go there. I like to feel what it would be like to live in a place, get to know some of the local people, wander the streets less traveled, have time to explore places that you only find out about once you are there, the things you can't plan ahead of time.

But since I decided to volunteer at a 7-day music festival in Costa Rica at the end of February, and because I realized when I got to Mexico, that I was really excited about going to Colombia, I have been experimenting with traveling like a butterfly, flying from one beautiful flower to another, finding the sweetest spots to visit in each country, and then on to the next one, never staying too long in one spot. Sometimes, it's hard to be a butterfly when you have a big backpack to carry around with you everywhere, but I'm getting used to packing up every few days and heading to a new place. Sometimes I have trouble remembering where I was a couple days ago, but with so little time in each place, my focus has been enjoying where I am now because very soon, I will be somewhere else. 

Looking back on the last month, it has been quite a whirlwind of beautiful earth spots and new experiences. I already shared a bit about the magical Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. Then I was onto riding the chicken buses in El Salvador. It can be a bit overwhelming to ride these buses, which are actually old school buses from the US, common in Guatemala and Nicaragua as well, as they ore often packed full of people, and it's not always clear where/how to get on and off the buses. Of course, it is just how the local people get around, but for me, it was an entertaining (and sometimes stressful) experience. In El Salvador, especially, many street vendors come onto the bus at the various stops selling not only cold beverages (often in little plastic bags with a straw rather than bottles) and snacks (fruit, yucca and plantain chips, sandwiches, etc...), but also plastic storage containers, sippy cups for kids, clothespins, and even those head massagers with all the metal prongs that feel so good. Sometimes, the vendor will actually stand in the front of the bus and give a little 2 minute commercial about their product. I almost bought the pens with erasers and the toothbrush that folds up into its own little case. And Of course everything is very cheap. It's like a dollar store is passing through the bus all the time.

Then there was the labyrinth I spent an hour being lost in, but did make it to the center and out again, and the hot springs that are so hot they are actually boiling, so you have to go to the resort where they have pools and cafes and they cool the water down of course. Then on to Nicaragua - I spent a week here on Ometepe, an island in the middle of the biggest lake in Central America, where I'm reminded for the millionth time in my life how much happier and calmer I feel when I am in nature, outside of the city, and also how much I love islands. I stayed in a beautiful bamboo cabin yards, or should I say meters, away from the lake. Most people rent motorcycles or ATVs to get around this island made by 2 volcanoes, but I chose to get around by walking and bus. One day, I accepted a ride from a local tour guide on his motorcycle. He promised me he would go really slowly, and he did. He dropped me off at a beautiful swimming hole. The next day, I joined his tour hiking halfway up the smaller volcano to an amazing viewpoint. I think this island is my favorite stop so far and would love to return one day.

Then across another border into Costa Rica, which has been full of beautiful beaches, visiting friends who have moved here from the US with their children, a beautiful town in the mountains with so many hummingbirds, and volunteering at Envision. Tomorrow, l am off to volunteer at a biological station/lodge for 2 weeks in the deep jungle of the Osa Peninsula before I head to Panama where I'll be getting on a sailboat for 5 days, stopping at islands along the way, and arriving in Colombia on April 1st.

Here are some pictures of the last 6 weeks:

~~~ learning how to flow ~~~

I was sitting on the beach watching yet another beautiful sunset, this time in EL Zonte in El Salvador, watching all the surfers out on the water, some of them quite skilled it seemed. Some people seemed to sit on their boards waiting and never catching a wave, if that’s what you call it - I’ve never surfed before. Some people keep trying, but don't ever make it to standing up. Some people get pummeled by the waves and their boards go flying. Some people, me, never even touch a surfboard. But for the last couple weeks, since I left Mexico, I've been feeling like the people who are about to get the wave but then it’s gone, over and over again.

One moment, 1 am getting on the ferry across Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, about to arrive at my next hostel after a 14-hour journey from San Cristóbal de las Casas in Chiapas, Mexico, and across the border into Guatemala, excited to have found a lesser-known village so I could just enjoy the nature of the beautiful lake. The next moment, I'm realizing that I've accidentally booked myself at a party hostel. The English guy I sat next to at dinner said it wasn't a party hostel, but 15 minutes later, they were bribing the 40 or 50 guests sitting in their restaurant to participate in their open mic by offering free tequila shots to anyone who took a turn - "you can even tell a bad joke in a language no one understands, and we'll give you a free shot!” But it wasn’t a party hostel. Right… One moment I think I'm getting my whole dorm room to myself after a long day… The next moment, the tequila kicks in for a bunch of people and they start singing bad American pop songs at the top of their lungs… until 2am.

It goes the other way too. One moment I'm realizing I made a big mistake in hostel choice. The next moment, I’m walking into my own airbnb room at a little hotel with my own bathroom, in a different village on the lake. No party people, just the usual roosters and barking dogs reminding me I’m in Central America. I didn't meet any other travelers at this airbnb, but I got to meet one of the men who worked there who is from Guatemala City. We talked for a while, all in Spanish somehow, about animals, since they have pet rabbits, parakeets, and cats there, politics, and the different kinds of hippies, since I had moved to the village that's been taken over by ex-pat hippies offering yoga, tantric workshops, ecstatic dance, family constellation sessions, etc. These are all things I'm into, but it feels off to me because you're in a place with a lot of indigenous Mayan people struggling financially and then all these ex-pats moving here, half of them not learning Spanish at all, which is actually the second language here, Tzutujil being the first, and charging hundreds of dollars for these workshops they're offering. It would be nice to think that they are somehow giving back to the community in a balanced way, but l am very skeptical.

I had a few days in El Salvador that felt like almost catching a wave but failing. H started when I suddenly realized that I hadn't done my research about covid requirements well enough. Four days before l planned to go to Nicaragua, l found out that unvaxxed travelers have to do a PCR test to enter the country. Uggh... So one moment, I'm getting ready to go to the coast, and the next moment, l have to make a detour to San Salvador, the capital, which I had been trying to avoid. Luckily, El Salvador is a very small country, so it wasn't going to take too much extra time. I still made it to the coast before sunset, PCR test completed. That night, I sat on the deck of my hostel, which is right on the beach, watching the full moon rise over the water, listening to the waves crashing, and watching a fisherman wading in the ocean with his fishing pole and head lamp. He caught one! I was reflecting on my day, which could have been very stressful, navigating the big city and a confusing public transit system with all my stuff, in the heat, and only knowing the language halfway. I found myself crying, thinking about how many kind, helpful people on the local buses I had met along the way, from the woman sitting next to me who offered to hold a young child when he and his older siblings and father had no place to sit on the bus... to the bus driver who was trying to explain to me how to get a different bus so I could get to the clinic... To the woman who overheard him and said she was going to that bus and she would show me the way... To the other woman who overhead the first woman telling me she was getting off before my stop and said she was getting off at my stop so she could show me the way. 

I don't know what your first thoughts are when you think of El Salvador - maybe gangs, violence, civil war, government corruption… To be honest, I probably would not have come here if I hadn't met an English woman 3 years ago in Guatemala who had just been here and said it was safe and she enjoyed it. She was the first person I ever met who had travelled to this country. I only needed one story like this to get me thinking about traveling here, to realize it was just like every other country I’ve visited that people told me was unsafe but then I went and I found just the opposite. Of course there is a lot more nuance to whether a country is safe or unsafe and for whom (travelers or locals), and when (now or 5 or 10 years ago), and where (on the city streets after midnight or in places that locals recommend to go). And for El Salvador, apparently things changed a lot for everyone here when they got a new president, Bukele, in 2019. Now, when I think of El Salvador, I will remember all of the kind and friendly people I met here. And the delicious pupusas!

So one moment, I'm crying because I'm so touched by the kindness of strangers, the next moment I'm back in San Salvador because I hadn't received my test results yet and I found the one clinic that was open on Sundays (my shuttle to Nicaragua was on Monday), and now I’m crying in the clinic because the woman has just told me they don't do PCR tests on Sunday, so I had just wasted a day and might have to postpone my trip to Nicaragua. At least there was an air-conditioned bus that could take me directly back to my beach hostel for $1.50 in time to see the beautiful sunset and watch the surfers, who, if they miss a wave or get thrashed around, go right back to sitting on their board, waiting for the next one.

P.S. I’m posting this from Nicaragua the next day, so I got my test results in time and it’s good I wasn’t able to get the second test, which would have cost an extra $80 - $100!

You're traveling where? By yourself??

Wow! You're so brave! I could never do that!

Don't you get lonely?

Isn't it dangerous?

You're traveling how long? What about a job?

'

Some of the questions I get when I go on these long solo journeys... Maybe you have these questions too. When I get these questions, sometimes I get sucked into this way of thinking and start to doubt myself. What are you thinking Christy?! It feels like I am the only one in the world who would even think about traveling solo to "dangerous places". The criticisms seep in. You can't just go travel for an indefinite amount of time without a job, without a source of income, without a plan. So irresponsible of you!

We could go down that rabbit hole and find all kinds of other questions… you're how old? (Almost 42) And you're still just wandering around the world? (Yes) And you don't own a house or even have an address? (That's right) What about a retirement plan? (Um...) so you're just living out of a backpack? (well, actually 2, a big one and a small one) …

But I don't want to go down that rabbit hole. Instead, I followed my intuition. I came to Mexico. With no return ticket. Instead, I chose to go somewhere that I only halfway speak the language with the goal of becoming bilingual. Instead, I sat at the bar one night overlooking the beach in Mazunte watching a guy juggle at least 5 machetes, then sat on the beach eating salchichas with the Dutch guy I just met talking about philosophy and the stars. Instead, I took a 3-hour van ride through the mountains that makes some people vomit to stay at a place that sells magic mushrooms at the reception desk. 1 didn't buy them, but I did walk through a magical forest, following a little river, unexpectedly coming across giant agave plants. 

Instead, I met a fellow traveler from California, and we went one day on a crowded public bus from Oaxaca City to Teotítlan del Valle (where I made a rug a few years ago), and talked to the local people there who are so friendly and shared about their lives and how they make the natural dyes for their beautiful woven textiles. One friendly weaver even drove us to the next town to show us the big market and helped us find the bus back to the city. Instead, 1 took salsa lessons at my hostel and another night sang karaoke with the woman from Cali and a group of 10 Dutch frat guys. You really cannot plan these things. Instead, I got on a little boat with 20 strangers to ride through the beautiful Cañon del Sumidero in Chiapas and see crocodiles and spider monkeys.

 Instead, I wake up most mornings to join the free breakfast at the hostel where I'm staying and meet ten other people from all over the world who are doing their own unique version of what I'm doing. Well, not everyone is traveling solo, but a lot are, and a lot of them are women. And not everyone is currently unemployed, but some are. One of them is an 84-year-old man who plays harmonica and is staying in hostels for 8 weeks, in the dormitories sleeping on bunk beds, journaling, drawing, and walking around the city … and he travels without a cell phone.

For some reason, I was resisting starting up this blog again, but I got inspired yesterday to share with all of you what I'm up to, so you can find out just how dangerous, lonely, irresponsible, and brave I am. Plus I love writing. (And so I don't have to send the same pictures to everyone all the time… but I do want to stay in touch with you, so please e-mail or whatsapp anytime.)

I'm dedicating this trip to my Dad. Bill. He left this world a year and a half ago. If he were still alive, he would hate everything about my choice to go on this trip. It's too dangerous. I should get a job (although if I got a job, I should get a different one that pays more and has health insurance.) And he likely wouldn't read this blog. So the ironic thing is that I couldn't go on this trip without him, and the inheritance I got from him. Well, actually, I could - I have gone on trips like this with waaaay less money. I know that underneath all his criticisms and disapproval was a deep, sincere wish for me to be successful and safe and happy. I think he struggled to find those things for himself and he wanted me to have what he thought he couldn't.

I like to think that now he's in a different place, where he's not limited by the narrow definitions of success and safety he subscribed to, where he can appreciate my choices, and see that I am successful, safe and happy, and where he can feel at peace. I had a dream last year that he was up high somewhere I couldn't see, but out of this black hole (I knew he was in there) he was sending down red and green balloons to me. So I'm receiving this playful, joyful, ephemeral offering. And any criticism or disapproval coming from inner or outer critics, I'll put into these balloons and send out into the atmosphere to be popped into pieces. I love you Dad.

Yep, that’s me, with my Mom and Dad