Thought I should update…

How do I sum up a month’s worth of adventures, mischief, and injuries…

I suddenly find myself alone now that all of my closest friends and travel companions have either moved on to different countries or have returned to their own. It’s an odd feeling, having time for oneself. I’m almost not certain how I can fill my hours after teaching my inspiring future Che Guevaras at the colegio. I come home and make myself a “pura chapina” breakfast/lunch — eggs, black beans, tortillas, perhaps some plantains — before deciding if I will check my mail at Funky Monkey where I know the connection is good and where it’s cheap or if I will go to Bagel Barn and get a cup of tea while I bogart their Wi-Fi connection. It’s usually the latter. In fact, that’s where I’m at right this moment.

It’s close to 7:00 pm and the place is empty because most of the foreigners are eating dinner or walking in the town square. I’m blasting Idan Raichel Project and Ivri Lider in my ears to drown out the reggaeton streaming from the cafe’s speakers. If I’m going to be honest, I really hate reggaeton. Each song has the same drum machine beat, the same one-note rapping style (which I think is some music form of water torture), and, ugh, I can go on.

At any rate, I recommend “Rompe” by Daddy Yankee for anyone who is interested in having a tast of the phenomenon that is reggaeton.

So, yes, alone.

Like I said at the beginning of this blog, this will most likely be a story that relies on characters rather than the adventurous plot. So I suppose I will have to pick up the story with the people I have since met and of whom I have become incredibly found. I’ll try to dedicate a post to all of them over the next few days. For now I will tell a tiny story, the most adventurous one I have had all month, in which I was nearly disfigured by a freak yoga accident. You read it right.

I decided to take a Saturday night off one weekend. I had thought to myself, “Self, you have been working for one whole month straight without a break to enjoy the nature and world around you, not to mention to spend some time with your friends.” Yeah! A Saturday night all to myself. How fun will that be!

The night was soon prepared. I spoke to Gato to cover my shift at Mono Loco, persuading him with a promise of phenomenal tips, which he was sure to get on a Saturday night. The date and place was already chosen. Ariel had been going to Earthlodge nearly every weekend for a month and her boyfriend, Casey, and friend, Ben, would be in Antigua visiting during this particular weekend.

It was all set. I could enjoy a beautiful weekend at the scenic avacado farm in the northern hills of Antigua, stuffing myself full of gourmet vegetarian food and reading by the light of candles at night.

We arrived at around 8:30, and decended the steep path to the lodge from the road in the dark. That was fun. Adi, the Israeli guy who works there, would every so often say something like, “Hey watch, there’s a big hole right here or hey this rock right here is kind slippery, oh and don’t step too far to the left that’s the cliff.” The adventure had begun.

Dinner had already started but Brianna, who owns Earthlodge with her fiancee, had saved our dinners for us. Oh and what a dinner it was. I would recommend going to Earthlodge solely to try the dinner that Brianna, Adi, and everyone else who works at Earthlodge makes. And then, Adi, the fun-loving guy that he is, broke out the Flor de Cana Rum.

It is a well known fact that I like to do yoga when I drink alcohol. It does not matter how much, in fact, just enough to make me think, “Yeah, I really want to do a headstand right now.” This is usually about after two and a half drinks. So it came to that point in the night in a conversation I was having with Casey, who also studies yoga, about waking up early to have a yoga session, that I decided to do some yoga.

I’m not sure what possessed me, but the pose I chose on this particular evening is called crow. It’s a mildly difficult posture that requires a bit of concentration, balence, and strong arms. So placing my hands on the ground, bending my elbows, I put my knees on top of my elbows and commenced balencing only on my hands. I could not have been in the posture more than five seconds, when that fun-loving Israeli, Adi, decided that he would make everyone laugh by pushing me over with his foot.

I fell flat on my face on rock-hard concrete. I don’t remember much except for sharp pain on my forehead and my nose. I was sure I broke it, but Jon, the tattoo artist and all around lovable guy, told me it was just bruised as he put ice all over my face.

I woke up the next morning without pain but a huge scab stretching across my forehead. My nose was huge. The first words I heard was Marlene saying to me, “What happened to your face!” Thanks, Marlene. Leave it to a Dane to be brutally honest.

At any rate, the rest of the day was quite relaxing and I hardly talked to Adi. I’m sure he’s a great fellow, but I just can’t seem to think of him fondly.
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Notice the huge gash on my forehead and the bruise on my almost broken nose.

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