time-machine.

with heavy breath and a light heart my eager feet dance and smash cascading volcanic ash on a summit to volcan pacaya. i´m in guatemala.

in only a weeks time, my reality has been on a boomerang flight across the globe. at first paris. indulging in wine and warm company: breathing, eating, and existing in french. now trekking new heights: sweating and swearing across central america. literally. my days have been chased with mounting curiosity and an evermore building frustration, forcing me to quickly catch a language i´ve only begun to flirt with. i enrolled in a language school. like all extremes, i´ve moved into the home of a guatemalan family in antigua as well. countless children jabbering and tossing marbles with dirty faces. an older brother, perhaps a black sheep, delighting sunrise to sunset in american cartoons. a mother who cooks and cleans, and refuses english, with kind eyes, and a visibly sweet soul. the meals here offer little variety. rice and beans. or is it beans and rice? just the same, i have not been hungry. although this house is filled with love, and an overwhelming presence of family, it is lacking amenities this silly american has grown accustomed to.

toilet paper.
hot water.
heat.
it matters now how far from home i go, little has changed about what comforts me. classes are from eight to one, with a private teacher, and a bottomless mug of coffee.

my days are consumed learning. learning verbs. learning swear words. learning directions. learning the taste of new foods. learning the history of the city. of the volcanoes. learning to consume a litre of moderately warm beer before it becomes unbearable. learning new faces. new names. learning, i believe, is how i continue to celebrate my youth. i am happy here. on the road. seeing the world with bright eyes. glittering with awe, while combating heavy rains, as i climb an active volcano. 2500 m. aching arches and muddy shins, i was one soggy kid long before the end. mountains of folded, twisted, and contorted magma stretch across the hillside. i struggle to capture the omnipresence in my viewfinder. up. up. up. the burning molten rock is all-encompassing and feast on fear. words lack justice. pictures off little. standing in front of 2000 degree rolling lava is something the title of this blog only hints at.
calling all thrill-seekers...
pacaya was magical. and well worth the blisters, tired muscles, and meager $7 i paid to get there, and hire a guide for the mountain. i think i will romp in guatemala for 3 more weeks. honduras for my 26th birthday. stories to come, and photos when possible!
much love and laughter.