Rolling into Antigua always feels like coming home of sorts. I've come and gone from this place so many times, but the excitement I feel when I experience the jolt of the cobblestone streets beneath the bus wheels and the lights of Central Park has never diminished. I met a great couple from New Zealand, Shane and Sarah, on the seven hour bus ride from Copan, Honduras...they're at the tail-end of a one-year honeymoon around the world. We scope out some digs and, as it's late in the evening, the only viable option ends up being the very place in Antigua I swore I would never return...the memory of being awoken suddenly by the sensation of six little cockroach legs scurrying across my bare shoulder in the middle of the night when I was staying there two years ago is still vivid. C'est la vie.

We located my dear old friend Rusty and his girlfriend Christy and headed to my old haunt Cafe No Se. I wasn't there long before the owner John thrusts a guitar in my hands and it was just like old times. We also had a visit from Eminem's protege, a white kid from Denmark who rocked the original rhymes like I couldn't believe. As I stood in the crowded little space, a cerveza in hand, good old friends to my left, some new ones to my right, the thump of the standup bass backing up Nick's wicked-clever rhymes, I had to smile...it's always good to be back here, at least for a little while.

The good times in Antigua continue...front-row seats to a concert featuring a Buena Vista Social Club original from Havana, Cuba. The dancing was fierce, the music exquisite.

Also attended The Burning of the Devil (La Quema del Diablo) with Shane and Sarah...the annual burning of a plastic devil every December 7th. Not quite clear on its origins, something about burning away your sins before Christmas or something, felt a bit like Guy Faulks day in England. Eh, great fun nonetheless. Do note the Esso (Exxon) station just a few feet away in the background, and another one just to the left that you can't see in the photo. I love that they choose to hold this ceremony which involves massive amounts of gasoline and a bonfire precisely in the one area in town hemmed in by gas stations. I love Guatemala.

I hear Christmas caroles in the air and Christmas lights everywhere and I swear they're playing a practical joke as I stroll around town in a tanktop and flip-flops. And the money seems to be flowing through my fingers like water these days. It's the first time in several months that I've actually been financing myself...gone are the days of writing everything off on the LEAPNow bill!

Antigua By Night

And then there were two...

I did the 3 hour slog by bus to San Pedro Sula and rendezvoused with Liesl at the hotel, who had flown ahead with the rest of the group. She's my lone last crewmember who is sticking around to study Spanish in Copan for a couple more weeks. Our first act was to find an agreeable spot for dinner and to take back our God-given right to a beer whenever we please. (Um, did I ever mention that these past three months have been completely alcohol-free?) We then met up with some of the volunteer teachers from BECA where we had volunteered several weeks before who happened to be in town. The Bohemian wine bar turned into a poetry reading as the night wore on...Latin Lovers waxing eloquent about unrequited love and Latina vixens...good times. Round midnight Liesl and I headed back to our hotel, encountering on the way a 10-piece mariachi band in the street serenading a newly engaged young lady named Jeni on the otherwise deserted streets.

There it is ladies and gentlemen...Susie and Liesl's first beer in three months...a monumental occasion.

14 empty beer bottles honoring our missing comrades. It was hard putting them all down, but somebody had to do it. It was for the kids. (And if anyone actually believes for a second that I can put away that much booze, you don't know me very well. I'm as light-weight as they come.)

We blew out of San Pedro as soon as we could the next morning and headed to Copan, where I will leave Liesl to study Spanish and I will head to Antigua. We roll into Copan and not 10 minutes after arriving are shown into a dorm room and happen upon Joel the Aussie who we'd hung out with quite a bit the past week on the other side of the country in Utila. (I know I should be used to it by now, but it never ceases to surprise me what a small world Central America quickly becomes.) Joel was attempting a nap at 5pm in the evening, I think he'd previously had a rough night, but we managed to convince him to abandon that plan to go drink beer in the park instead, a very classy backpacker thing to do. Still giddy as a schoolgirl to be able to crack open a brewski whenever I want, tee-hee. :)

We had dinner with my old friend Carlos Castejon who I met back in 2003 when I used to live in Antigua. He runs a great tourist gig to his family's finca outside of Copan (if anyone is ever passing through, you must check it out! www.fincaelcisne.com).

I bid Lovely Liesl goodbye the next morning...onward to Antigua...

The Long Way Home

A week of scuba diving in Utila off the costa of Honduras has come and gone and all of a sudden our last night was upon us. We splurged on hotel rooms with cable TV and ridiculously amazing hot showers (first in several weeks) for our last night together in La Ceiba. Also splurged on a nice dinner and shared absolutely hilarious and clever 20-years-from-now prophecies that we had done for each other with equally clever gag-gifts. We wrapped up the evening crammed into one of the hotel rooms and Pat and I did our last sing along..."Closer to Fine" and "Rock Me Baby Like a Wagon Wheel" were of course on the repertoire, bringing the trip full circle from our first night at Earthlodge overlooking Antigua and her volcanos, lazing in hammocks and passing around the guitar.

With Alison at the farewell fest

The next day we arrived at the airport in plenty of time to make their 3pm flight (I was staying behind) only to find that the plane was actually leaving at 1:30 and was in the process of final boarding. Fantastic. So no time for long goodbyes, and just like that, I bid a tearful farewell to this truly exceptional group of people who had been my family for the past three months...Alison, Cakki, Nick, Ada, Liesl, Mariana, Flora, Devin, Peter, Jessie, Hope, and Patrick, and my fearless co-leader Nate. I hugged and waved goodbye, they hurried through the security line and suddenly they were gone.

I sat down on an airport bench and absorbed the strange silence, let a surge of melancholy wash over me, and wondered what the heck to do with myself now. There were no per diems to hand out, no doctors visits with students to determine what in the heck that strange rash is about, no group dinner to attend, no budget close-out to do, no endangered turtles to save. What now?

Nate, my fearless co-leader.

Alone again, I stoically strapped on my pack, headed out of the airport, and hiked out to the dusty highway to catch a cab to the bus station. I quickly hailed a cab and hopped in. And in an act that seemed nothing short of perfectly choreographed, I roll down my window, look to my right and the prop plane carrying my crew rises up next to me out of nowhere in stride with my taxi for a moment before shooting ahead into the clouds. They were a fantastic group of people and it was a phenomenal experience and I have no doubt I'll see many of them again.

So I decided months ago not to fly home with the rest of the group to take advantage of more time in my favorite part of the globe while I was here anyway. My loose plan is to take the long way home through Mexico, stopping in Antigua and Lake Atitlan to visit friends and recharge. So the show goes on...