Check out your own backyard.

I have not been able to travel abroad for a while, but I am having fun reacquainting myself with the Texas Gulf Coast. If you have never been, here are some things you might see:

Horses. Yes, you can see horses pretty much anywhere.
But these are TEXAS horses.

Rice University in Houston: beautiful campus,
amazing live oak trees in that part of the city.

The Beach (Galveston)! I've heard some people complain
that it isn't white sand. Who cares?! It's the beach!!
And on this day, I had it all to myself.

Palm trees swaying in the gulf breeze.

And then there are alligators. I saw one last
weekend while walking this very trail.
It was on the other side of the water, so
I couldn't get a good photo (on the plus side,
I also couldn't get eaten).

Be reminded.

The other day I went outside and thought, “It feels like Guatemala.” Now, I’m in Texas at the moment, where temperatures reach sweltering heights during the summer and the humidity makes you sweatier than a high school football team. But that is summer. Winter is a whole other story and a big reason many of us northern-folk migrate to the south. It can be amazing, spring-like, sunny, warm but not too warm, clear, dry, refreshing. Beautiful. Perfect. That is what the highlands of Guatemala felt like during the day most of the time I was there (nights, not so much as you can read here). And when the weather is just so, like it was the other day, it doesn’t just feel like Guatemala; I feel like I’m there. Just for a second.

If you’ve traveled, especially to places mostly different from your own, this phenomenon might happen to you as well. I call it the “wish you were there” virus. But it is not a bad virus. It is a bit of longing, mixed with nostalgia, swirling around your ever-present desire to roam the earth. When you are going through your day, commuting, working, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and all the other responsibilities you may have, sometimes a distant Guatemalan-like breeze blowing your hair as it pushes the faint smell of burning wood toward you is kind of nice. It’s a bit sad. But it’s mostly nice.

Sunny blue sky, short sleeves, sandals ... what better way to illustrate nice weather?
This is my dad and me in Antigua, Guatemala on a beautifully perfect day.

You may not have any idea what I’m talking about. That’s okay. But someday, when you’re somewhere quite different, or when you’ve been somewhere quite different, you may find yourself being reminded of that different place by the smallest thing: the smell of fresh bread, the sound of a bicycle bell, the wet air of a mid-summer thunderstorm. Your experience at home has changed because you have felt it in a different place. It is no longer just a snack, a sound in the street, a natural occurrence. It’s a memory, fastened to your brain, stimulating your smile muscles from time to time. You can’t forget. Nor do you want to. 

Happy travels to you.

The year is coming to a close and at such a busy time, I will simply share this with you:

“Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” – Miriam Beard

Granada, Nicaragua

May the new year bring you wonderful new adventures, wherever you go.
Thanks for reading! 

Just go!

When you travel in Latin America, especially if you are not a luxury traveler, you gotta leave the little girl pants at home. No, I am not going to talk about travel clothes again (did that here). I am talking about realizing that you are going to come across things that are very different, perhaps seemingly avoid-worthy as you traverse the region, so you just have to deal with these things. This has been discussed in previous blog posts (see here, and here, and also here), but I am going to address it again, on a smaller scale.

I briefly mentioned the rain in Xela, Guatemala in a previous post (check it out here), and that although it was the dry season while I was there, when it rained, it rained a lot. Buckets. Cats and dogs. Insert other incomprehensible English colloquialism here.

On one such a day, I had to get back to work after lunch. It was raining relatively hard, but I had my rain jacket and an umbrella. I took my usual route and when I got to the strange street (mentioned in this post here; I am posting the photo again below), there wasn’t just a wet road and some puddles. There was a waterfall. A dirty, fast moving waterfall. I was getting wet despite my wet weather gear, but this was going to soak my shoes. And socks. And perhaps all 52 bones in my two feet. More importantly, I was going to fall on my ass.

I stood there, underneath my umbrella, for at least ten minutes, pondering what to do. I didn’t know another route. All routes I took led to the waterfall street. I could go back to the house, call my boss, and tell him I couldn’t get back to the office. I didn’t really want to do that. But I didn’t want to get washed away either. 

As I was thinking, observing, brainstorming to find a way to get down this crazy hill, two old ladies walked by and just stepped down the waterfall. Zippity-doo, down they went. Just like that. Like they had done it a thousand times, knew where to step without losing a shoe, and it was no big deal. That is all it took to snap me out of my caution-addled thoughts and get down the waterfall. If two little old ladies could do it, so could I!  I tried to step where they did, and guess what! I didn’t fall or get washed away. I got incredibly wet, but I already was incredibly wet. 

What is the point of this story?

If you don’t know where to turn, follow your elders, as they are wise to the ways of the river.

Or:

Standing around thinking too much will get you nothing but wet.

Or:

Don’t be such a chicken – put on your big girl pants and just go!

Follow your bliss.

Here in the U.S., it is major league baseball playoffs time. My beloved Boston Red Sox are in a nail biting series with the Detroit Tigers right now for the American League pennant. I haven’t really had easy access to television all summer, so I haven’t been watching like I usually do. But last night I ventured out to a bar in El Lago, Texas to watch a game, in a place devoid of Red Sox fans (except for the bartender who was actually from Boston). And it was a fairly crappy game, from my standpoint at least. We lost. No one cared but me. I felt so alone.

I am a baseball fan. I am not obsessively so, but I enjoy it a lot and have since I was a kid. Although I have seen many games at all levels here in the U.S., I have not yet seen a professional baseball game in Central America, despite its popularity there. But it is something I would really like to do. 

Although not professional, this is a baseball (or maybe
softball) game I watched in Nicaragua. 

Not too many women watching this game, but that's okay.
I tried to keep my swearing down to a minimum.

I went to a semi-professional soccer game once in Costa Rica and I was glad to be with a group of people, including some guys, because it was a bit rowdy. A huge majority of the crowd were male. And a huge majority of those males were stinkin’ drunk. They were yelling profanities at regular intervals, never anything too creative, but as a student in a beginning Spanish class at the time, I quickly learned the term “hijo de puta.” That was their favorite by far.

I imagine a baseball game may be similar. (I found this guy’s blog and he has a baseball post that is super interesting, so check it out here. It is very guy-centric, but from what he wrote, so was his experience. The bathroom scene is a bit disturbing.) Nevertheless, I think it would be an interesting cultural experience that would tie my own interests to a popular past time in a country I am visiting. You can do this with anything really.

If you are a crafty kinda gal, then find a way to watch local artisans create their wares. Sometimes you can even take classes, e.g. weaving classes in Guatemala are popular. If you love to bake things, learn how to bake something popular from where you are visiting while you are there, from a local. If you take pleasure in drinking a couple beers now and then (while you watch baseball perhaps), go to a local brewery – or at the very least, try all the local beers. I like the beer in Central America, but even if you don’t, at least try it so you can find out. I can also be convinced to try new cocktails (as I mentioned here). If you delight in gardening, find out about local vegetation, get a guide or visit with a local garden club during your travels. There are countless possibilities.

Maybe all this is obvious, but a lot of times we are too busy on trips to make a personal connection with what goes on in a new country. Either our schedules are too full of visiting the usual touristy things, or we are so overwhelmed by it all that we just can't make a personal connection with life in this different place. It doesn't have to be a profound connection. But you can enjoy your past time or your hobby or your bliss in a completely different way. Heck, you may enjoy it more in another country. You just never know where following your bliss might lead you. 

Take a walk.

In my second post for this blog, I extolled the virtues of comfortable but sturdy shoes (see that post here). In another post, I encouraged you to wander around new places, get lost and just enjoy what you see along the way (see that one here). Today I am going to suggest that if you are planning a trip to Latin America (or elsewhere), get your butt moving now. Literally. Be ready to walk. There are mass transit systems in many Latin American cities, there are taxis that are very inexpensive compared to the U.S., and there are the legendary and amazingly cheap buses (discussed a bit here). But you are still going to be walking a lot. It’s just the way it is.

I think it is probably pretty universal knowledge that in the U.S., people like their cars. Sure, there are several cities where you don’t need to own a car to get around, like New York, Washington D.C., and Boston. But by and large, people are driving. Even if they are taking a train into work, most people have a car.

If you so desire, when you are traveling you can also drive by renting a car. But I have never done that when in another country. I always rely on others to drive me where I need to go, i.e. bus drivers, taxi drivers, or friends with cars. I just don’t want the hassle when I’m trying to see as much as possible in the time I have to experience a place. I like taking cheap taxis and practicing my Spanish with the taxi driver. I like taking buses (sometimes!) and people watching and looking out the window at the scenery. I like checking out different subway systems so crowded they remind me of the “T” at Kenmore after a Red Sox game. But mostly I like to walk.

As you have read in my blog before, “It’s part of the experience.” When you are walking, you are rubbing elbows with the locals. You are walking on their streets, passing their front doors, catching glimpses into their homes, smelling dinner as the aroma wafts from an open kitchen window. You get that while on your feet, not behind the wheel of some rental car.

Walking is not always easy at first, especially when the altitude is higher than home. I have mentioned high altitudes before (here). In Quito, Ecuador, I had about a 25-minute walk to the Spanish school I was attending. But I could not walk at the speed I usually did. I got out of breath really quickly because of the altitude (9350 feet/ 2800 m), which was quite a change from the 607 feet (185 m) in Connecticut, where I was living at the time.

It was also challenging in Xela, Guatemala, where the elevation at its lowest point is about 7655 feet (2330 m). With all the walking I did, up and down hills, to and from the center of town, sometimes twice a day, I was really getting in shape. Of course, you can only really prepare for a higher altitude by being in a higher altitude. So my friends, about all you can do is be aware of this so you don’t overdo it, or get altitude sickness.

This is just one of the hills I walked up (and down) to go to work
in Xela, Guatemala. Then I had to climb that volcano you see
in the distance (okay, that last part isn't true).  

Here is another hill I walked up and down on a daily
basis in Xela. This is a street. I never saw any cars on it,
but I did see a motorcycle go up it once.

I mentioned in that earlier post (again: here) that I walked about two hours every day when I lived in Xela. You may not walk that much yourself on a trip, but you might be surprised at how quickly the steps add up. Start a walking regimen before your trip to make it easier on yourself. If you can, walk up hills. If there are no hills, try stairs. Just do not go into it cold, with nothing but sad, mushy muscles and lungs that cannot face a challenge. You don’t need to train like an athlete. You don’t need rock hard abs. And you don’t need to be able to run a four-minute mile. Just get used to walking more than you usually do so you don’t feel the need to banish yourself to your hotel room from exhaustion. If you get exhausted, let it be because you actually did walk for two hours!

Just buy it.

I know people who love to buy things, no matter where they are. They stock up on shoes, clothes, furniture, accessories, whenever they can. Others, like me, are not really into shopping. Sure, there was a time when I loved to shop as a past time. Loved those sales. And I still do if I have to shop for something specific. But shopping just for the sake of shopping is usually not my thing. (I also mentioned that in this post). 

When traveling, I am a bit different. I love to browse through local markets (also mentioned here and here) and check out local wares. But I know people who don’t buy things when they travel. They have enough stuff, they say. "Who has the room?" they exclaim. Yes, I understand this. We all could do with a little less “stuff.” But for me, the things I buy when traveling are more than things. They are compact memory portals, taking me back to a great trip, even for just a moment.

I know that may sound a bit trite. But when you are working too many hours, relaxing too few, worried about bills, spending so much time in the usual everyday madness that is your existence, sometimes grabbing that bag you bought in Guatemala, or wearing the t-shirt you purchased in Ecuador, or putting that Mexico-made ring on your finger can be a little pick-me-up, a little reminder of a wonderful time you had in another place. Yes, just a reminder. But I value those little reminders

I recently had friends visit here in Texas from Norway. One was born in Texas and had not been back since she was a baby. She really caught the Texas fever, grabbing hold of the state of her birth like a cowboy lassoing a calf, and didn’t let go until she went back to Norway. I’m not sure she even let go then.

She made many Texas-centric purchases ... a lot of items with the lone star on them. And she didn’t just buy them and take them back to the hotel. She wore them while in Texas. Some people looked at her twice after seeing her dressed a bit like a cowgirl, and then hearing her speak, not with a southern drawl, but with a Scandinavian accent. She understood these double-takes and would explain, “I am from Texas!”

Here is Pernille, the lovely Texas-born Norwegian
and her cool Texas boots. I think she looks terrific,
like a real Texan (yes, many people in Texas
wear cowboy boots all the time. It's true!). 

I don’t know if she continued to wear her bedazzled lone star items back home. I think she probably did. She had had a wonderful time in her birth state and I am sure she wanted to extend that to her home country. Those things will always make her smile, maybe even laugh, whenever she sees them. 

So if you are one of those folks who think, “Why do I need to buy anything on this trip? I have enough stuff,” shop around anyway. You might find something – and it doesn’t have to be big – that will bring you back to that lovely store down the street from the little cafe where you liked to buy café con leche and pan dulce every afternoon. Those kinds of flashbacks are worth every penny.