Sup guys, it´s Emily. Again. In light of us having about a month left in Central America, I thought I´d share an important lesson that I´ve learned the hard way: that no matter where you are, who you´re with, or what you´re doing, you have to walk.
It seems simple, the act of walking. You put one foot in front of the other, you move yourself forward through space and time. The idea isn´t what´s complicated. It´s the sheer physical effort. And I know I sound like the poster child for Michelle Obama´s campaign against childhood obesity, but seriously guys, walking is HARD.
I hadn´t used my feet as a mode of transportation since all my friends got their licenses junior year. So it´s not even necessary for me to mention that I was utterly distraught by the trek, which turned out to be almost completely uphill, just as I´d feared. However, after it was over I felt wave after wave of relief crash over me; I convinced myself that we were done walking. We had to be. As usual, I was wrong.
Our week in Chicacnab brought about a different kind of walking. The muddy kind. We sloshed and squelched through two miles of sludge, only to arrive at a house sandwiched between two equally slippery hills. I sighed and resolved to make the week go by without falling down one of the increasingly peligroso hills. The only thought that kept me going was there was no way I´d have to walk like that again after Chicacnab. Once again, I was incorrect.
We arrived in Semuc Champey dead tired, but happy. We couldn´t wait to jump into the limestone pools and actually swim for the first time in months. Our tour guide told us yes, you guys can swim, but first we´re gonna check out this incredible view that takes forty five uphill, sweaty minutes to get to. At this point I just laughed as I was reminded again that nothing ever goes as suspected in Central America.
So this past weekend when we went volcano boarding, you can imagine my total lack of surprise when we were told that we would have to walk up Cerro Negro, that it would take about an hour, and that we´d get just as dirty and sweaty as we had been for the past two months. But as I slowly began my trudge uphill and felt that familiar burning sensation in my thighs, my mind didn´t immediately jump to how awful everything was and how I would prefer to be sitting in the shade with jugo de piña. I´d moved past denial and into acceptance of the fact that in order to have fun, I would have to do a little bit of work, and that eventually, I´d be able to stop walking, stand still, and enjoy the incredible vistas that seem to follow us everywhere. And I would say something cliche about how the same thing applies to life and how everyone has to work to enjoy things, but I think that you´re all smart enough to detect the metaphor here. Besides, it´s getting dark, and I need to walk home.
