A Life in Motion – The True Confessions of a Travelholic
My roommates and I referred to Tikal (the official name for the Mayan ruins) as “McMaya World” because by the end of our day there, you had to wait in line for a chance to climb up the ruins. The site had guards, flush toilets and snack shacks that sold coca-colo, chips and sandwiches. Yup, in the middle of a National Park and an hour away from the nearest town. Crazy, huh?
Okay. Tilt your head to the left and you’ll get an idea of what this picture is supposed to look like.
A few weeks ago, my roommates and I drove 14 hours into the jungle to visit the sight of some ancient Mayan ruins. As far as 4th century pyramids in the jungle of Central America go, I guess they were pretty sweet. And if my interest in Mayan civilization extended beyond Mel Gibson’s Apocolypto, I might have been really impressed. But mostly I was just hot. And dehydrated. And worried that one of the mosquitoes lunching on my legs was infected with Malaria. Because I’d totally been banking on the fact that being from Hawaii and all would have given me enough tropical climate street cred with the ‘squitos that they’d leave me alone and I wouldn’t need to take Malaria pills or wear any bug repellent. Um, yeah…apparently the mosquitoes in Guatemala don’t discriminate. They’ll eat anyone.
Anyway, what I found most interesting about the ruins was the fact that they’d been well, ruined. There was actual graffiti on some of the walls and apparently, even with guards posted around the grounds, ancient artefacts go missing from the temples all the time. Sad, isn’t it?
I climbed up one of them and found this plant growing on the top. Somehow I don’t think that it was the ancient Mayans who wrote “Richard was here.” But those ancient Mayans were a pretty clever bunch. They invented the calendar and predicted the end of the world, so who am to say that they didn’t time-travel, too?
This is just a quick note to say that yes, I’m still alive (and I’m feeling much better, thank God) and I’m going to be traveling to Nicaragua tomorrow. Hopefully after two taxis, a night in a hotel and 23 hours on two different buses, I will be out of the rainy, cold highlands of Guatemala and sitting in a hammock here:
Photo by Osopolar
But then again, this is Central America so anything’s possible really.
Tags: Guatemala
I remember reading once that when a caveman had to chose which female he wanted to club over the head, drag to his cave and have his way with, he wouldn’t necessarily chose the prettiest or the smartest one, but rather, the healthiest.
He’d look to see how thin the cavewoman was, how much hair she had on her head and whether or not her skin and eyes were clear. A cavewoman who was was too skinny and balding meant that she wasn’t getting enough food or else past her prime and pock-marked skin and discolored eyes meant that she was too sick. The reasons for this were simple: A healthy cavewoman meant the possibility of healthy offspring.
This was all done subconsciously of course. The caveman didn’t stand there and weigh the pros and cons of each female like a judge at a Miss Universe pageant, it was built into his DNA. And it still is, today. Which is why although the definitions of beauty differ among cultures, any human of any age, race or gender, will always be more attracted to someone who’s healthy over someone who’s not.
As I looked in the mirror this morning, I wondered what the caveman would say if they were around to see me. They’d probably take one look at my red-rimmed eyes, thinning hair and the rash lining my hands and whisper amongst themselves:
“Don’t go near that one. She’s got one of ‘em diseases.”
Well, not a disease exactly. But a bacteria infection in the lining of my stomach. For the last two weeks, I’ve been pretty sick and haven’t been able to keep anything I eat down for very long. The lack of nutrients has caused my hair to start to fall out and the rash is probably another side-effect of the bacteria. I think it started out as food poisoning (which I’ve had five times in the last three months by the way) and has since morphed into some evil little virus that I can’t seem to flush out, no matter how much water or fruit smoothies I drink.
Last night my mom called and asked me I thought it’d be a good idea to come home to California. And while the idea of lying on the couch, catching up on TV and eating my mom’s homemade soup sounds really good right now, I can’t afford to go back. Well, I could afford the plane ticket, but not the doctor’s visits or medication. I don’t have health insurance in the US, so it’s actually a lot cheaper to have the problem taken care of down here (even if ‘down here’ is what caused it).
Yesterday I went to the doctor, for example and the entire visit (including lab work) cost only six dollars. Which is why a lot of people from the States come to countries like Guatemala, because if you go to a privately-run hospital here, the quality of health care is just as good and about a third of the cost. One of my roommates in Antigua had flown down here for a week just to get some dental work done. He reasoned that even with the cost of a round-trip ticket and a week’s rent in an apartment, it was still cheaper to get his cavities filled here than it would have been back in New York. Crazy, huh?
Today I’m going to the doctor to pick up some antibiotics and hopefully that will help. Because although attracting a caveman isn’t among my concerns right now, not causing any long term stomach damage is. And I don’t want to, you know, die or anything either.
So sometimes I say something on this blog that offends someone and for that, I’m sorry. I guess in my attempts to be witty or interesting and avoid the boring “Today I went…and then I ate…and then I met…and it was totally awesome!” blog posts, I sometimes miss the mark. And occasionally that seems to inspire people to write me hate mail or post an offensive comment, which is cool in a way, I guess. It means people are reading this blog, which is never a bad thing.
But I won’t be taking your suggestions, Mr. and Mrs. Hate Mail. No, I won’t be shoving this blog up any part of my anatomy any time soon and sorry, but I’m going to hold off on dying for a while…But thanks for the tips. Really.
That said, if you’d like to disagree with anything I’ve said, feel free! Post a comment. And so long as the comment is relevant and doesn’t include words you wouldn’t say to your mother, I won’t delete it. You can hold me to that.
Anyway, I came across a funny article on BootsnAll today, 10 Backpacker Stereotypes. If you can ignore the grammar mistakes and typos, then you might find it entertaining. The author makes some pretty gross generalizations (she reduces all of Europe to a single Backpacker type and the Irish backpacker is of course, drunk and the Israeli backpacker, a cheap stoner), but the article had the word ‘stereotypes’ in it for a reason. It was meant to be an exaggeration.
I thought her description of the ‘American Backpacker’ was funny and pretty accurate, too. Here’s a snippet from her description of the ‘older American backpacker’.
“…the older single American Backpackers are usually travel bloggers, photographers, or hippies that are trying to find the deeper meaning in their travel experiences. All American backpackers give themselves massive kudos for being one of the 20-30% of American citizens that own passports and like to brag about anything remotely ‘foreign’ they have done on their travels.”
And here’s another example from her description of the ‘Australian Backpacker’:
“Can be found traveling in packs, pairs or alone, but if alone will often have run into a cousin/friend/acquaintance at every stop, however remote (“maaaaate, didn’t realise you were over here in the middle of the amazon jungle. lets go for a drink.”).
Great for when you want to start drinking at 9am and have a skinny dip in a public fountain.”
It’s good to be able to laugh at yourself every once in a while, don’t you think?