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  • Buried in art supplies

    2010 - 08.16

    It was decided that this week I would host Art it Out night, a weekly gathering of my friends where we dedicate the evening to art and girly chatting. It’s delightful. I was absolutely thrilled for this…except when I remembered the state of my studio (or what is really just the south end of the basement at my aunt’s house where I live). I started cleaning off the tables that were covered with huge pads of paper, canvas boards, unfinished paintings, collaging supplies, sketchbooks, watercolor paints, feathers, yarn, pencils, pens, fleece, catnip, crochet hooks…and all other manner of creative things conveniently forgotten and tucked away in the basement… I’ve made the startling realization that I could hermit away in my studio for well over a month and barely put a dent in all the art supplies I have…

    Projects started but never finished, books purchased but barely read, supplies bought on a whim because I want to try everything… Coming from a family of pack-rats, artist and overachievers, I’m doomed to drown in art supplies! It’s overwhelming…

    Cleaning makes me want to start working on something…anything…Josh’s painting, another ATC, crocheting, more catnip toys…the mannequin…oh my poor neglected mannequin, will you ever forgive me as you lay in pieces throughout my studio? o.O *sigh* but I should continue cleaning…maybe this happy little realization will be another reminder that I don’t spend enough time down here…

    I may need to reinstate my art day… Just claim every Thursday for myself to work on projects… mark myself as busy and stick to it… It’s like someone carving out time in their schedule for working out (which is another thing I need to do >.<)

    Too much to do…not enough time in the day… back to work…

    Artist Trading Cards (ATCs)

    2010 - 07.29

    While browsing Blick Art Materials the other day, I meandered to the back of the store where I don’t usually go. Tucked away on the corner end display I found a book on Artist Trading Cards (I’ll try and remember to post the title and author when I have a chance, right now I’m not at home) along with little packs of various types of paper. I started paging through the book and really enjoyed the range of techniques they walked through…but I’m getting ahead of myself… ATCs are small, 2.5 x 3.5″ pieces of art work. The sky is the limit as far as what you can do with them… a very small chunk of sky that is… So far I’ve done three ATCs since I got the book a couple of weeks ago. The size limitation is extremely daunting…and the inspiration in the book is a little intimidating. But the informal nature of the cards has let me lighten up a bit and allow myself to play.

    Lately, just getting me to work on art has been challenging. I have a tendency to over-think art and scare myself out of starting anything because I’m afraid that it will suck… but the cards trick my brain into making the art less about the final product…it’s easier to throw away a little card than it is to repaint a canvas or toss an overworked piece of watercolor paper. I don’t know, here I am over thinking it again. But the point is that I’m really enjoying what ATCs have done for me so far. Once I get used to the size and try out a few more things I might actually start trading them at organized trading events…but for now I’m just having fun building up my collection. I’ve added a new tab for them under Ishkadoodles, soon the gallery will be full of cute little works of art! I think my favorite so far is the Rose…it looks like it might be unfinished, but now I’m afraid of ruining it…see!!! over thinking it…I might go back later and work on it more…but I like it…

    All tied up

    2010 - 06.20

    This afternoon, after a delightful breakfast of cinnamon bagels from Panera, Chris and I ran out to Savers in Bloomington and had ourselves an adventure of the thrift store variety. Naturally we got lost in the book section and I picked up two Stephen King books that I can’t wait to read…(after The Dark Tower series of course…just started book 4! go me!) After reminiscing over some VHS tapes (An American Tail: Fievel goes West anyone? <3) and giggling over the board games we looked into the clothing sections… Of all places, I get lost in the ties… At $2 a pop, I allowed myself to get 10 neck ties for the next skirt project… I may have to go back tomorrow before belly dance because I looked at my stores of neckties and I’m running low on interesting ones…and man…did I hit the jackpot at Savers… check them out!!!

    Ties from Savers today

    The next skirt is going to be totally different from the past three skirts that I’ve made…I should hunt down some pictures…one sec…

    Okay, forgive the terrible pictures of me 5 years ago… just look at the skirts…allow them to distract you from the person wearing them…particularly my hair…good god… anyway…

    The Rooster Skirt! so name because of the length in the back kind of looking like a rooster tail. the colors were laid out just right I think. this is my all time favorite skirt that I’ve made.

    This is the first tie skirt that I made back in Senior year of high school. Good times… learned a lot about what works and what doesn’t work and I think I finished it in two days…

    I have one more tie skirt that I don’t seem to have any pictures of at the moment but it’s a knee length one that’s pretty darn cute.

    Can’t wait to finish this one!!! should be fun.

    Recent Fire dancing photos

    2010 - 06.20

    Shortly after returning from Guatemala, I had to do some fire spinning for my own sake. It had been far too long and I missed the adrenaline buzz I always get. Here are some pictures that my friend Eric took of me fire dancing. Enjoy!

    San Simon and the Hot Springs

    2010 - 06.19

    So I might actually get around to writing about Guatemala, one subject at a time… eventually.

    Tonight’s topic is San Simon and our visit to Las Fuentes Georginas hot springs (in case you couldn’t tell by the title of this blog). This excursion took place on Wednesday, May 26th. This was the day after many of the students got sick, so there were only about 7 or 8 of us that went to the springs. Although the springs no doubt do wonders for joint pain and stressed muscles…dehydration and upset stomachs would likely be worsened by the heat.

    On our way from Xela to the hot springs, we drove through a city called Zunil. Maneuvering our van through the cobblestone streets that were very clearly not made for cars was exciting and I was very glad that we had a driver that knew what he was doing. There wasn’t a whole lot about this place that would distinguish it from Xela, except for a particularly interesting resident…San Simon. Chris and Alyssa, our guides from the Asturias Academy, briefly told us about this local saint and sparked our interest. San Simon (also known as Maximon) is a combination of a Mayan deity (of sexuality), a Catholic priest, a Spanish Conquistador, and Judas Iscariot…yeah, interesting guy. His effigy currently lives in a house in Zunil where his Brotherhood takes care of him. I say ‘lives’ because he has his own room where he ‘sleeps’ for 8 hours a night, he’s given cigarettes (which he actually smokes using some kind of respirator inside his mannequin body) and is generally treated like a human being. When Chris pointed out the house where San Simon was, our curiosity was sparked and we asked if we could see him. Our insanely talented driver found a place to park and we quickly piled out of the van in the pouring rain (little did we know, this was the beginnings of Tropical Storm Agatha). Dodging puddles and trying not to get hit by cars, we unceremoniously ran through the open doors of the house of San Simon.

    When our eyes adjusted to the candle-lit darkness, we saw men seated at tables, some playing cards, others analyzing crystals, almost all of them smoking cigars or cigarettes. Chris lead us to the back of the open room where we saw three men gathered around the figure of San Simon. They seemed to be talking to him and performing some kind of ceremony. A fourth man stood in the corner and would occasionally approach Simon to ash the lit cigarette in his mouth. In front of Simon, there were dozens of lit candles, different colors representing different wishes. In the corner, near the candles there was a crucifix and little statues of Mary, the only thing about this place that felt remotely Catholic, it almost felt like a joke.

    We were already starting to feel the hairs on the back of our necks rise up but when Chris told us about the Grim Reaper figure that was upstairs we started to wonder if a group of American tourists really belonged there. But of course we were curious so we walked up the narrow cement stairway, single-file and peered through the door to sneak a peek. Looking back on it…I can say that we *really* didn’t belong there… in the brief time between me walking through the door and promptly getting out of there I saw the terrifying figure of death in the corner, a woman with wild hair whispering to it and men passing around the biggest cigar I had ever seen. The room was an open air balcony with a tin roof to protect people from the elements, along the edge there was a counter with so many candles grouped together that it was really just a pillar of fire. I’m not a particularly religious or superstitious person but I felt very uncomfortable in this place. I made my way back down the stairs to take another look at San Simon and watched as the three men brought a live chicken into the space in front of Simon. Although we didn’t stay much longer, I didn’t have to stay to know that the chicken was going to be sacrificed. Chris gave the Brotherhood the customary offering of 5Q per person and some of us quickly took some pictures before leaving and attempting to shake the uncomfortable feeling.

    We returned to the van and went over what it was that we had just ignorantly walked into, some more shaken than others. Our driver continues to work his way through the treacherous hills of the city and eventually we got to the mountainous country where we saw a great deal of farmland, crops looking like patchwork quilts laid out across the hills. The soil of this land is very fertile because of the volcanos in the area so there were many different kinds of crops planted with special attention given to placement and planting cycles.

    Eventually we made it to Las Fuentes Georginas hot springs, tucked away in the mountains of Guatemala. We were surrounded by huge trees with leaves that reminded me of the tree stars in Land Before Time. Unfortunately I didn’t get any pictures of this trip because I was too busy admiring it and I didn’t want to get my camera wet in the springs. Megan took a couple of pictures though and the website has some good pictures, so hopefully that will do. We changed into our swimsuits and made our way to the pool closest to the source, therefore the hottest. Since we were so high up in the mountains, we found ourselves walking through the misty clouds. We spent over an hour soaking in the springs. The floor of the pools were rocky and shallow, never getting deeper than waist level, except closest to the source (which was about chest deep). After about twenty minutes I had to find a rock to sit on because my body temperature was starting to get a little too hot for my comfort.

    I wish I had actually taken pictures of this place, it was beautiful beyond words and I never want to forget the lush forest in the mountains. Unfortunately we were some of the last people to visit the springs before Tropical Storm Agatha destroyed them. I’m not sure of the extent of the damage, but while we were stranded in Xela over the weekend we overheard the bartender at Bamboo talking about Las Fuentes Georginas specifically and saying that they had been destroyed.

    Thanks for reading! I’ll try and get to more posts soon. I can already feel the experience fading into memory as I fully adjust to life back home.

    Dollhouse at the Guthrie

    2010 - 06.11

    I seem to have taken a very leisurely approach to writing my Guatemala posts… Getting back to real life has been fun, chaotic and full of surprises this week. There’s a good chance I’ll have time to get to them this weekend…but I don’t want to make any promises… :p

    Last night I had the wonderful opportunity to check out a play at the Guthrie for the first time. Although I don’t think I had ever been to the original Guthrie, it was really exciting getting to see the new one. It was also an excellent excuse to get all fancied up! (any excuse to wear my cute black and white strapless dress with my plum colored underbust corset is a win in my book!)

    The show Chris and I saw was called Dollhouse [Spoiler Warning: don't read if you plan on seeing it], based on Henrik Ibsen’s play “A Doll’s House“. The plot of both versions surrounds a woman who borrows a large amount of money to save her husband from an illness. After lying to cover it up and save her husband’s pride she tries to pay it off on her meager allowance that her husband gives her because she is terrible with money. In the modern version, she’s maxed out their credit cards on furnishing their home to make it look like their well off and bought extravagant gifts for the holidays. Nora lies about everything, little things, big things, who she hangs out with, what she buys herself, etc. Honestly I felt exhausted just listening to all the lies that came out of her in the first act, I couldn’t imagine living like that.

    The loan she took out from a friend was $100,000 (of which only $30,000 actually went to the husband’s treatment (which was for an addiction to pain killers), the rest went to the fancy condo and extras along the way). This friend gave Nora the money in hopes of holding influence over her husband who was the head of a branch of a large bank. When the friend comes to Nora needing money for his failing business, he blackmails her and demands that she convince her husband to give him the $2 million loan or he’ll expose all of her lies, ruining her husband’s reputation at the bank in the process. The second act explodes with the domestic battle over lies and abuse so much that you almost forget that you’re watching a play, not an actual fight unfolding.

    In the end, I was terribly unsatisfied with how the husband gets the whole ordeal blamed on him. No he certainly wasn’t the perfect husband, his addiction to pain killers lead to his wife thinking that she needed to resort to risky borrowing to save his life. But lying became so second nature to her that it became easier to lie about *everything* then to confess and reach out for help when she had the chance. She justifies herself by turning into the victim at the last minute, proclaiming that he treated her like a doll and she had to maintain appearances for him so he would look successful to the rest of the world. Perhaps in the original play, the husband was a great deal more abusive and this was more apparent…but in this version I just couldn’t see how the husband had to shoulder all the blame for her poor choices.

    The play certainly made many good points about deceit, communication and the misguided need to “keep up with the Joneses” though. Something to reflect on some more I think.

    Anywho, I thoroughly enjoyed the play, the theatre and the company. I don’t know how long the show runs but it could be worth looking into.

    Help Sabrina the Tiger!

    2010 - 06.07

    Quick pause in my writing about Guatemala for another cause that deserves your attentions. I just learned about this today and donated what I could to help Sabrina the Tiger. Follow the link to learn more about what’s going on and please do what you can to help TWS rescue her!

    The Food

    2010 - 06.07

    Okay, super lazy post this morning! I slacked off this weekend and caught up with friends and family instead… I need to catch up or my posts will fall to the wayside and I won’t document everything like I wanted to!!!

    Anyway, Quick gallery post of most of the food we ate on our trip. that’s half the fun of travelling isn’t it? The food we ate was almost always fresh and preservative free (okay, we had Pizza Hut once… so I can’t say *always*). Most days we had rice, beans and chicken with salad, tea, fruits and sometimes pasta and always, always, always Tortillas!

    Most mornings and lunches we ate at the wonderful Margarita’s house and dinner would be someplace in the city like a local cafe or sandwich place. While in San Marcos we found an amazing curry restaurant where we stuffed our faces and went into a food coma shortly after.

    I’ll get to more posts with substance soon, I promise!

    The Disaster Saga, Part 2: The Journey

    2010 - 06.03

    In the last post, we left our heros and heroines outside Black Cat Hostel in downtown Quetzaltenango (aka Xela) waiting for their van to pick them up and whisk them away to their far away homes. (no pictures for this part of the story I’m afraid. I’m also sorry because I lied when I said this part was shorter…)

    Sometime around 6pm, a large van drove up the cobblestone street and we began loading our luggage and various packs on top of the van. One by one we piled into the van that probably comfortably seated 14, there were 16 of us including the driver and his friend. It was…cozy…to say the least. It should be noted that most of us hadn’t really showered much in a few days so that added to the closeness. Guatemala does not observe daylight savings so 6pm was looking more like 7pm and we were loosing light quickly.

    Leaving Xela took longer than we would have liked because of all of the twisting roads and evening traffic. Overall the start of the journey was chill, we tried to get some sleep in the van since there was nothing else to do. We were all very startled when we heard something fall from the top of the van, a few somethings actually. Not only did some of the luggage get damaged when it fell from the van (thank goodness for the duct tape I brought!), but we had to sit on the side of a dark road for what felt like forever while they re-secured everything. I’ve seen waaaay too many scary movies for this to be kosher. Of course nothing happened, my imagination is too vivid for my own good and we were on our way again.

    After about 6 hours of off and on sleepingand watching people walk about their villages late at night as we passed, we arrived at the Guatemala-Mexico boarder. Tired, sick and a very uncertain of what we were supposed to do, we got out of the van and got in line to show border control our passports. Men offering to exchange our Quetzales for Pesos crowded in and ignored us when we said “No, Gracias”. Other men hovered around our van at a distance. Nothing about this situation was fun, all of my family’s words of warning about this trip came flooding back to me and I just wanted to teleport home. Thinking we were done after we got stamped out of Guatemala, we quickly hopped back in the van….only to stop a 30 seconds later at the Mexican side of the border to get stamped in.

    This time we all had to get out and walk into a building where many of us were hoping to find a restroom of some kind after so many hours in a van. It’s hard for me to describe the state of the women’s bathroom… to say that it was dirty doesn’t cover it. I would go so far as to say that it qualified as sexual harassment. Broken toilets, no running water, no TP, doors that didn’t lock and unmentionable filth everywhere. I call this sexual harassment because the men’s room looked perfectly fine and operable when I walked past the open door. I could be wrong, I was very tired and sick, but either way I was seriously irritated by this.

    On this side of the border, we had to fill out forms saying who we were, where we were from and other pretty standard stuff. What didn’t feel standard was when they told us we had to pay $25 US (or $261 Pesos). I don’t think I’ve ever had to do that before and none of us were very prepared for that. (when we got our passports stamped out of Guatemala we had to pay 10Q or just over $1US, *nothing* in comparison!) All of our readily available money was in Quetzales and they didn’t take Visa at the border. Some people, including myself, had kept some American money in case of an emergency so we went back out to the van to dig into our bags. The other fishy catch about this extra expenditure was that they didn’t give change. So we had to group together in whatever ways we could to ensure that our money did the most good. We got our passports stamped in groups of four and handed over the last of our cash.

    The next phase was to go through customs so we got our bags off the top of the van, trying not to look nervous while more people took note of us. A man in a red t-shirt started to “make himself useful” by trying to grab our bags from the driver as he lowered them down to us. I made sure to grab my things quickly as I saw them and told him thanks but no thanks. Taking my suitcase, backpack and handbag to the customs side of the building, I pushed the magical button that decided if a passed or failed and saw the bright green light pierce the misty darkness. They barely looked at my bag and didn’t even ask me what I had. Of our group of 14, at least 2 of us failed the random button-O-customs.

    The first group to get through customs waited in the van and kept an eye on belongings as they were placed back on the roof. Vicky listened as our driver and one of the border guards argued in Spanish. When the guard walked away, she told us that he was demanding 100Q (about $12 US) because of “all the weak women in our group that needed help loading their luggage back onto the van”. I witnessed all 9 of those “weak” women hoist their bags up over their heads to the driver myself…the guard didn’t do squat. Unfortunately, this man could slow us down if not stop us entirely if we didn’t give him the money. Since our trip was at its end, most of us didn’t have large Qs anymore. But Hanna found a 100Q bill and gave it to the driver to get us on our way.

    After another half hour, we got to the gates of the Tapachula airport…the closed gates… It was nearly 1am and the driver told us the airport wouldn’t open until at least 5am. The gate guard made a few calls for us though and let us in to the parking lot where we could unload the van and wait in the lobby. The lobby was covered with huge twitching wasp like bugs, some that were still crawling, others that had been squished in the comings and goings of airport life. Grateful for the opportunity to wash our hands and clean up a bit, we dodged the little buggy landmines to get to the lobby bathrooms.

    With 4 hours before the airport would officially open for us, we set up a mini-shanty town on the far side of the lobby where the bugs were fewer and the wall plugs could be found to charge our fading phones. Some of our souvenirs proved to be useful as hand woven rugs were used as beds on the cold tile. It was at this time that Bern decided to start throwing the mangled bug bodies at the unsuspecting and shrieking residents of GuatGang-Shantytown. The Bug Wars lasted only a few minutes and everyone calmed down a bit. After the stressful border crossing, I was able to get a few hours of sleep.

    When I woke up it was about 4:30am and I saw that we had been joined by more people for the morning flights. After getting through security we got in line to check in and get our tickets for our flight to Mexico City. But San Simon’s curse (more on that later) was not done with us yet! One of the groups going to Minneapolis (my group to be exact) was told that our tickets had been canceled when the online ticket company tried and failed to get ahold of us to verify the credit card information. All of the other groups were okay, but now Megan was scrambling to make sure we could still catch the 6:40am flight to Mexico city with everyone else. The man at the check in desk was extremely helpful, getting Megan a phone and wifi access, not pushing us aside at all.

    Once inside the airport, we feasted on cup-o-noodles and bottled water for breakfast while megan continued to book the rest of our flights home and update the blog. The flight out of Tapachula was very comfortable (especially for Bern and Charles who somehow managed to get first class) and we arrived around 9am.

    Besides some tearful goodbyes as the group split off for their respective flights and a delayed flight that would have caused Charles and Bern to miss their flight in NC therefore getting them a free night at the airport hotel and an upgrade to first class (once again!!! those lucky dogs!), the rest of the journey home was uneventful. The Guat Gang Girls in my group (Megan, Hanna, Courtney, Kate, Amy and myself) reminisced about the trip over lunch at Chili’s Too in Charlotte, NC.

    After landing in Minneapolis we were met with warm hugs and tears of joy at the baggage claim. My aunt picked me up outside and met me with fresh, homemade, chocolate chip cookies and a large, cold glass of milk. The only thing that could top it was the welcome I received from our dog Jett as he danced around my feet when I walked in the door and the warm, fuzzy kitty cuddles I got that night in my own bed. After 12 hours of solid sleep, I woke up very glad to be home safe and sound.

    Now that the scary part of the trip is out of the way…I can talk about all the fantastic things we did in Guatemala! Stay tuned for The Miguel Angel Asturias Academy, Jorge’s Story, The Mural, Traditional Mayan Weaving Techniques, the Lake Atitlan Excursion, San Simon and the Hot Springs and a photo gallery of the best pictures taken on the trip.

    The Disaster Saga, Part 1: Nature Strikes

    2010 - 06.02

    I feel like starting with the end of the trip because it is freshest in my mind, caused the greatest emotional, mental and physical stress and is a pressing current event in the news right now. People, places and other events that are not already known will be explained later in another page that I will create for this adventure, so look for that soon.

    A natural disaster was the last thing on our mind the whole trip. We knew people would get sick because of the diet change and the general stress of traveling, we could assume that people would lose belongings at one point or another, we could even picture people getting hurt on an excursion. These things were planned for in some way.

    Friday afternoon while some of us were having lunch at Margarita’s we thought Margarita was having a good laugh when she told us we weren’t going home because of the volcano in Guatemala City erupting the night before. We laughed uneasily, but when she said she was serious and sent her store assistant to get the paper from her shop and we saw the hellish red lava exploding from Mount Pacaya on the front page our hearts sank. Naturally the airport was closed indefinitely and we would have to figure out another way to get home. After being away from home for two weeks, focusing so much energy on the mural and our excursions, the news that we wouldn’t be going home Saturday morning hit most of us really hard. Lots of people had plans immediately after returning. Some people had to be out of their apartments by the end of the month, a few had internships in other states that they had to get to, at least one person had a family vacation. Personally I had a performance Monday night that I was disappointed that I would miss. While we sat and watched the news we saw the devastation that Guatemala City was facing as it was covered in ash. The station we were watching was particularly affected because their reporter that was on the scene was killed by a rock that was thrown by the volcano.

    When we reconnected with the other students in the group we broke the news to them and started to discuss our options for getting home. Steve came to COFA and told us that the eruption hadn’t stopped yet and it could be well over a week before the airport would reopen. Steve gave us some ideas as to the options we had. The first was to simply wait it out, spend up to another week in Guatemala until the eruption ended and the streets and airport opened up again. None of us really saw this as an option. We were all ready to go home and we couldn’t afford lodging and food for the extended trip. The other possibility would be to drive to El Salvador on Sunday night and fly out from there Monday. Delta airlines was agreeing to transfer flights to the international airport there but we wouldn’t be able to leave until at least Monday. The final option that Steve proposed would be for us to drive to Tapachula, Mexico, get a bus to take us to Mexico City (about a 15 hour drive, with good road conditions) and fly out from the international airport there. The group was split between options. The people that had pressing things to do back home wanted to leave for Mexico City in the morning, while those of us that had a more relaxed time table were mostly content with seeing how things played out until we knew it was safe. Honestly, none of the options were ideal. Leaving immediately meant an increase chance of encountering landslides, flooded roads and riots. Whereas waiting it out allowed for the situation to get worse and chaos in the cities to inspire riots. El Salvador wasn’t an ideal place to go either.

    Ultimately we all knew we were stuck at COFA for at least another day, so we went to the Goodbye dinner at the Asturias Academy, had some drinks and went to bed.

    The next morning I woke up shortly after 6 and found I couldn’t get back to sleep. So I took a shower (the first in at least 4 days, hot water was limited), and quietly started packing my luggage just in case we got good news. When my roommate Kate started waking up I asked her if she wanted to join me for breakfast at the nearby Cafe Baviera. Wanting to sleep in a little more, she wanted to wait until 9. So I napped in my bed until Megan knocked on our door. A few more people were stirring so I got up and asked them about breakfast as well. Out in the hallway I saw the caretakers of COFA cleaning the rooms of groups that had checked out that morning. Shortly after 9 Steve arrived and asked us if we knew what was going on. He told us that since we were scheduled to leave at 5am that morning, COFA had already booked our rooms to a large group that was arriving that afternoon and we had to leave immediately. Although this wasn’t the good news I was hoping for…I was very glad that I had already packed my things. I helped wake the others and told them to get ready while Steve called one of his many connections to find a place for us to spend the weekend.

    Once everyone was ready to go, we waited outside for some taxis to take us to the Black Cat Hostel in downtown Quetzaltenango (Xela). After a long taxi ride that was extended because of the flooded streets from the non-stop rain that started early Friday morning and worsened through the night, four of us arrived at Black Cat. We talked to Phillipe, the barkeeper there who had spoken to Steve and was expecting us. He showed us to the private bedroom they had where we would store our stuff for the time being. The four of us collapsed on the huge bed there and we waited…and waited…and waited…for the rest of the group to join us. After what was probably close to an hour we were finally joined by 4 more…and 4 more and eventually the rest of the group. The continued flooding caused accidents and created major traffic delays for everyone.

    The most comfortable bed we had the pleasure of napping in for almost two weeks!

    We settled in to Black Cat (where I felt quite at home for obvious reasons) and started craving breakfast. We ate at a local breakfast nook down the street and returned to the hostel to rest, watch movies, explore and do some reading. There’s not much to say for Saturday besides that I was in wet clothes all day long because my other clothes were either also wet or waaaaaayyyyy too stinky to be considered a humane option. This of course resulted in a cold that I’m still trying to shake. Megan, Kate, Lairen and I ate dinner at the Bar/restaurant Bamboo where we were able to watch some news and see what was going on across the country. The storm had developed into Tropical Storm Agatha by this point and was turning the volcanic ash in Guatemala City into cement. Rivers were over flowing and people were evacuated from their homes into schools and other large buildings at higher ground. We didn’t need to understand the language to see the devastation and the affect this would have on thousands of people that were already hurting.

    I ended up spending the night at the hotel across the street because the hostel didn’t have room for everyone. Jorden, Jean, Hanna, Courtney and I got a room together. Hanna was overjoyed to find that her bedsheets were Superman print from god knows when. Unfortunately the man of steel was not a comfortable bed-mate and Hanna tossed and turned all night.

    Showing off the awesome threads

    Before going to bed, I was convinced to join most of the group at a Salsa bar down the street for free salsa lessons and free tequila for the ladies. Wanting to make the best of the situation at hand, I went (although the temptation to stay warm and cozy in my bed was strong). As far as I know this is the only photographic evidence of the night…I’d say it sums things up very well…

    The mysterious afro'ed chica danced long into the night

    Sunday was spent recovering from the previous night with afternoon shopping in the center of town. I found some last minute gifts to bring back to the states, whenever that was going to happen. When I got back to Black Cat I spent the rest of the afternoon reading and watching movies in the television room. When Steve walked in and told us to be ready in an hour, we all scrambled to pack and played the waiting game while they frantically bought tickets.

    The plan ended up being very similar to one of the initially proposed ideas. We were going to get a van to take us to take us over the border into Tapachula, Mexico. From there we would fly to Mexico City and divide into groups, some of us going to New York, some to Baltimore and the rest of us to Minneapolis. The Minneapolis group had to be divided into two smaller groups to fit on the available flights. Once the tickets were secured, Steve called a van and we said our goodbye’s the the friends that we made at the hostel.

    Full gallery of more pictures of Black Cat Hostel and the last pictures before we came home:

    Next…Part 2: The Journey (the shorter, but more more exciting, last leg of our return home)