Gimmesanity

Woke up ridiculously early to climb Pacaya yesterday.

It was a day-long affair that would’ve been far less painful had I not been hungover and running on 3 hours of sleep.

As I lamented having drank that last cuba libre, I remember looking up, seeing the smoldering volcano in front of me, and completely forgetting everything.

Pacaya is still active. Still seeping lava, lighting up the evenings with its shows. Still, they let us walk right up to the lava.

I mean right up to it. We were only yards away from the sloth-like flow of molten lava. Beneath that mound behind us there was bright orange lava that would peek out every so often to remind us of why it felt like we were walking across Hades.

It was hot and dusty. There was no sure footing when you walked on the crater. We used walking sticks to check the rocks before we stepped on them, to make sure we wouldn’t fall. Those rocks are like glass and will riddle your hands with tiny cuts. Oh, and it was damn hot, too. The heat radiated through our shoes and up our jeans. Every so often, you would get a blast of heat that made it almost difficult to breathe. Something tells me this wasn’t all totally safe. Safety, schmafety - those kinds of rules are far more lax out here in Guatemala.

It was totally worth the early wake-up call, the myriad of blisters on our feet, and the sore legs. It was worth all that and more for the chance to feel like you were on the edge of the world for a while.

Hope you all enjoyed your Thanksgiving!

After a long nap, I got myself showered and took a long walk around the town.

Had lunch with friends - homemade sangria and discussions about the current state of affairs in the US.

Had an hour-long massage, came out smelling like cloves and cinnamon and everything delicious. I feel like a million Quetzales.