January 27th, 2013
By Sunday, all signs of the poison were out of my body and
it was time to reenergize with some fuel!
I was still hesitant on eating so Peter sent me a list of do’s/don’ts of
eating after such a spell. I
started the day off with a bean and pasta soup I made and then hung around a
few hours to make sure it was staying down. During that time, I met my neighbors, a Brazilian guy named
Anderson and an Aussie girl, Savannah.
They are artisans who make and sell jewelry. They have been here about a month and plan to remain about
one more before continuing their travels around Central and South America. They are both very sweet and my kind of
people.
Once I was sure nothing was coming out of me, I headed down
to town for a few Skype dates and then to the lake to relax. I spent a few hours reading under the
shade of a palm tree and listening to the sounds of the water crashing on the
shore. It was so serene and
peaceful and reminded me of my weekends in San Diego. Except in San Diego I never saw topless Mayan women bathing
in the water or was surrounded by a million dirty hippies. Don’t get me wrong, we have hippies in
SD, I even consider myself one sometimes.
But we’re the clean kind (at least when I decide to fight the cold
shower). Not the dirty, loud,
druggy ones that give the rest of us Gringos a bad name here. Locals here may not have a lot of money, but they place high value on looking presentable. So it's hard for them to understand why a foreigner, who to them should have money, would intentionally look (and smell) so scruffy.
Before I piss some of you off, let me explain. I’ve realized something here that I’ve
been borderline discovering for a while.
I am a travel snob. I’ve
always known I was one when it came to seeing sights and doing things that
everyone claims are “so incredible” and I'm like, “yeah, it was okay, but I saw
way better in PLACE A or B, etc.” But, now I’m realizing that my backpacker
mentality has changed. All the
time I spent traveling last year, I loved meeting other travelers and was
always jealous of the people I would see who lived in the fabulous places I was
merely visiting. I always wondered
what it would be like to be one of them.
And now that I’m one of them, I want nothing to do with the
travelers. I know, I kind of hate
me for it too. I mean, I’m not
cruel or anything towards them.
But after working all week all I want to do is relax at the lake. So when I head there and find a bunch of
people blasting their music, dancing around, camping out in tents and hammocks,
dry humping in public, and generally overtaking the place with loudness (yes, I
realize I sound like I’m a bitter 80-year old), it’s disturbing and I can’t
help but feel bad that this is the impression that locals have of
foreigners. And, sadly, as a
foreigner, I’m lumped into this category and it gives the rest of us who don’t
act that way a bad name and a harder time living here. So, now that I think about it,
let me rephrase. I have nothing
against travelers; I have something against loud, obnoxious, ignorant
people.
And, just to clarify, I have met some really nice travelers
in the past few weeks here and I like them just fine. I just have to choose where to put my energy too since I’m
living here. I’d rather invest my
time getting to know people who also live here and can become my friends than
people who will be leaving in a few days.
Anyway, I did enjoy my time at the lake and then I decided that to
celebrate my recovering stomach’s victory, I’d get a pizza! I had a difficult
time finding a place that both makes pizza, and makes them on Sundays but after
some time, I found one. It was an
over-priced touristy restaurant, FE.
It was a decent pizza and just what I needed! I wrapped the rest up
since I had to order an entire one (no slices here) and went home for a nap,
some more reading, and blogging. I
also had a surprise visit from a teacher at my school, Karin. She is also brand new and is part
Columbian, Armenian, and Canadian.
She had come looking for Anderson and we ended up chatting for a bit. It was a great way to end my weekend
and prep for my workweek.
(Disclaimer: If workweek is spelled wrong, blame spell check. I don’t think it looks right as one
word, without a hyphen, but spell check keeps yelling at me that it is).
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