matt of the land

it began, as all good things do, with vegetable curry soup and amazing fresh bread. we fifteen voyagers ate, chatted and ignored the task looming in front of us. climb up volcan santa maria, to a height of 3772 meters, overnight, and survive enough to witness the beauty that comes at sunrise. we each took what we needed for the quest, for me it was a fleece, a hat, sleeping bag and mat. stuffing what we could into our bags, tying madly to the outside, it was time to go. we hopped on the back of a pickup for the twenty minute journey over bumpy road to the closest point to the mountain. then, exiting, after some brief instructions from our guides, it was time to start. but wait! more company! three stray dogs who spotted the trucks decided it would be a good idea to follow us all the way up the mountain in vain hopes of getting food. apparently they do this all the time. brilliant.

now, the peak is 3772 meters above sea level, but we started from an already lofty 2500ish meters, leaving only (only?!) 1200 meters to go. the weather was ... not great. cloudy, humid, and later cloud, as in we were hiking through a cloud, the trees dripping on us without rain, the ground swamp and slippery. but i get ahead of myself. the first hour or so was no problem, uphill but not steep, rocky but not treacherous. we stopped at a designated rest area and had some trail mix. i was feeling good, breath even, heart still in my chest, peachy. then we were informed that this was the last official stop, the rest of the trek would be at each hikers own pace, breaks when you need them, summit when you feel like it. cool. the catch was that the steepness would only increase, a fact that proved to be correct. up and up and up we went, i kept good pace with the middle, not feeling the need to kill myself proving i was in some sort of shape. ha. the trail got slippery and the rocks further apart, mud and branches propelling each forward. it was getting colder but that did not stop the sweat soaking through my shirt. the only blessing, we later found out, was that it was night, and we all had not slept, and noone could really focus on the entirety of the mission. it was just one step after the other, dont fall, dont slip, one more step.

eventually we broke the cloudline to an amazing vista of xela, clouds and stars. the moon was on the other side of the mountain, but it was not long until i crested (um, 3/4 hours isnt long, right?) and saw what i came for. freezing cold! no, really. it was freezing cold. like, frost and stuff in the morning. but that hadnt entered my mind quite yet. what did was the image of an active volcano erupting, smoke spewing upwards, lava visible inside the crater. i stared. and stared. and stared. till i realized i couldnt move my fingers. ok, into the sleeping bag. still cold, not comfortable at all, i fell asleep.

but not for long. sunrise hit and everyone started shuffling. not really getting up, because, as mentioned, it was gd cold, but that didnt stop me. i didnt hike up this thing to lay around for the beauty. shivering, i wrapped the sleeping bag around my shoulders and looked out towards the east. towards the reds and pinks lighting the clouds. towards the myriad volcanoes lined up like, um, something that lines up (insert simile here). then back towards yet another eruption. then the sunrise. volcano. sunrise. good god. seriously i think it might be the most amazing visual image of my life, certainly on this trip. the colors, the landscape, the power of nature all around. above it all, fighting off the wind and the conditions, just looking. hey, how about from up there? ooo heres a nice spot to stand. hours passed, im not sure i blinked.

later, once it was day and the wind stopped and finally we could all feel human, we had some coffee and some breakfast. we talked about the volcanoes all around us, what they were, what else was visible. then it was time to go down, hot now, sun sun sun, sweat and hurting feet and screaming legs and drooping consciousness. four hours later i was home, eating lunch, recounting everything about it, glad that i stuck around a few extra days for one of the cooler things ive ever done or seen. it was hard, i hurt, im tired, and the next couple days i will pay. but its a good price. i love the world.

had a pretty good week in xela, all things considered. working with the kids is still a challenge, not my favorite, and even harder with a hangover. a couple thoughts and plans to quit work early were ditched as i felt bad about giving up, and it is getting better, its just the kids, man they are tough kids. super aggressive, badly behaved, reaching out for attention at all times in any way possible. hitting, yelling, ignoring teachers ... i know that exists everywhere with kids, but seems a bit higher level here. understandable, i mean its got to be a hard way to live. but not easy for me to get a grasp on. especially in another language.

went to fuentes georgina last weekend, these natural spas up in the mountains. very beautiful place, ridiculously relaxing way to spend a saturday morning. on the shuttle, met an american girl who ended up being quite cool and my social partner for about five days till she went home today. sunday we went to the futbol match here, xelaju versus guate, big big game. very interesting to see soccer from that perspective, i mean their celebration for when the players entered were firecrackers wedged into the chain link fence that surrounded the field. lots of spirit though, lots of spanish insults i didnt really get. fun times. fun sunburn too, man it was sunny. and im at a pretty high elevation. so the sun is stronger. and the drinks kick in alot faster. and when youve had five beers and two double whiskeys, you are, um, drunk. def a recommended way to spend a tuesday night in a foreign city, but not when you have to wake up in four hours and handle crazy children. but we already discussed that. the bar scene here is odd, with so many loud but completely empty spots, weird genres of live music, and bizarre motifs in many bars, trying to be western but just ending up confusing. wandering the city looking for a good bar seemed to be the activity of the week, not the worst thing in the world. do kinda miss being in a bar i feel comfortable in. wheres caccios when you need it?

i signed up for a night hike up volcan santa maria for next wednesday night. you leave around midnight, crest around five or so, watch the sunrise, watch the other (active) volcano erupting, spewing ash and smoke, which i recently learned may be the cause of my lingering cough here in xela. combination of climate, elevation, and nasty particles in the air. makes sense to me. the hike should be tough, about four hours to the top and at damn high elevations, i think the top of santa maria is somewhere around 3800 meters. but i want to do it, and im going to. in shape or not in shape. then after that i spend thursday sleeping and i leave on friday, heading to lago de atitlan, supposed to be beautiful and fun. then tikal (huge mayan ruins), rio dulce and livingston, and some caves and water stuff in the middle of the country. not totally planned out, like all my travels but should be fun. then after about twelve days of that its back on a plane to texas. gettin near the end of the road here for me. hard to imagine getting back to real life now. so im not.

so, here i am in guatemala. xela, to be exact, or quetzaltenango if you like long city names. which guatemala does. im liking it here, kind of, its just really different. im a bit isolated, the sole volunteer in an orphanage, the sole student in a homestay. in a quiet, beautiful, slow paced, very cool city. i dunno. costa rica was so social, so fun, but this is the real deal, immersion i guess they call it. noone speaks english except my spanish teacher, mario, who uses it only to define words i dont know. my house is only my house mom and me, a very nice, verrrry chatty sixty-something lady who doesnt speak a word of english but asks a million questions i have to fight through, or just say ¨"si" and hope thats the right answer. the house is quiet, dark, downtown is only a fifteen minute walk away but its tough to get up for going out by yourself after waking up at 630, working with special ed kids in spanish for four hours, eating, wakling to an internet cafe, studying ... oh yea, in case you missed that, they put me helping the special needs children at the orphanage. in spanish. after telling, multiple times, that i know nothing about dealing with or taking care of kids. in another language. that, in some cases, cannot barely get a word out, cant walk, cant listen. its really really hard. but im doing my best, trying to get the most of it. i work four hours a day, six if i want (maybe next week?), then get one-on-one spanish lessons three days a week for two hours each day. nice teacher, but solo lessons are a bit awkward. i learned standard, regular verb conjugation yesterday, easy enough. i have homework to do. i still have a head cold. like i said, its not bad, i mean im living in freakin guatemala, with the ladies in their awesome colorful outfits, the short old man carrying who knows what around, the volcanoes and clouds looking amazing pretty much every day, the smell of tortillas and street food all around me. i cant complain.

its just a contrast to costa rica, and def to nicaragua, one of the coolest countries ive visited in any of my travels. super cheap, super beautiful. easy to navigate, nice friendly people. parties in cities and nights in solitude in the middle of nowhere. everything is possible. swam in the pacific, climbed a volcano, ran with bulls, drank rum on street corners, talked with locals, danced to reggae music by an american and a frenchman ... all within two weeks. the running of the bulls was definitely the highlight though, adrenalin pumping, bulls out of control, people antagonizing and getting gored in the throat, in the leg, thrown in the air ... all day long. the poor bulls must have died at the end, they got so beat up, but man, it was a rush. to be ten feet from an angry, unpredictable, powerful beast like that. running in crowds without even seeing what was coming, from where, when. crazy crazy crazy. complete opposite in juquilillo, a small town wiped out by a tidal wave fifteen years ago, now just a street with some houses, businesses, the beach eroding something crazy like a meter a year, more with heavy weather. empty beaches you can walk to the estuary, where waves of the pacific disappear into still waters with a view to die for. stayed in a rancho, built bonfires, drank beer under the stars on the beach. got rocks thrown at us for not giving money to thugs. good times. so yea, go to nicaragua. not even close to dangerous. all lies i tell you, lies!

so yea, got some homework to do, copying lessons, making up dumb sentences to go with simple verbs. find a cafe, a real one, cause, you know, guatemala is one of those great places that produces amazing coffee, but ships almost all of it out of the country, and drinks the shit thats rejected. or instant. a sad state of affairs. but allegedly theres some good stuff around. we will see. i was supposed to stay here for four weeks, but i think ill cut it to three. its a big country, and theres more i want to see than this region. amazing mayan ruins in tikal. beautiful lago de atitlan. semuc champey. and party in antigua. fly back in four weeks yesterday. maybe. heh.

hey heres a quick check in from costa rica. basically, i love everything about it. i got in and was shuttled straight to my home stay, which is with this really cool costa rican family: mom, dad, four kids, grandma, aunt ... plus seven other volunteers. great group of people, i got along with them instantly. any fears of being isolated or uncomfortable were gone by the end of the first night. the city, san jose, is not really all that beautiful in an obvious way, as few capitols or large cities in latin america seem to be. but it has a pulse, a fun night life, alot of activity and walking and robbing apparently (not me, yet).  my neighborhood is a bit out of the city center, with plenty of amenities and things around. nobody is rich, but maybe middle to upper-middle class. for costa rica.

the weather is spotty, typically sunny in the morning, cloudy/rainy at night. not terribly hot, pretty reasonable. nothing that ever keeps you from doing something at any time of day or night. my work is rewarding but hard, involving a lot of concrete, cement, paint and cleaning. its in a large nicaraguan barrio outside san jose, around fifteen hundred families in tin roof/wood/whatever they can find houses, no toilets, burning garbage, this sort of thing. we are doing construction in a church, newly built, making stronger walls, a private bathroom, painted interior and such things. in only six days of work we have done so much, and there is still so much that can be done. it is only limited by what supplies the organization and the community can provide for our labor. generally about 4-5 hours a day of work, then back to eat some lunch, hop on the computer, relax. some naps, some small trips and walks around the city.

this weekend six of us from the house went down to manuel antonio, a beautiful tourist destination on the pacific coast. we split a three-bed room for fifteen dollars each a night. lots of beach time with crazy waves, exhausting sun. and a national park which we spent saturday in, hired a guide and saw all sorts of nature.  cool plants, poisonous snakes, colorful crabs, crazy (and sometimes angry) monkeys, sloths (SLOTHS!), even saw one moving. slowly. oh and alligators and africanized bees and toucans and probably more i cant even remember. such a great time, iloved it. not sure what we will do this weekend to follow up, maybe to the cloud forest of monteverde, or maybe out to the carribean. tough choices i have to make in my life.

im here in san jose until the end of july, then i have two weeks before i start my month-long stint in guatemala.  right now it is looking like nicaragua is my best bet, cheap, beautiful, safe. maybe do some eco-volunteering there with some turtles. maybe just seeing cool shit like volcano islands and granada. i dont have the plan quite yet, but im working on it.

anyway, yea, things are amazing, im so happy with the spot i landed in here. so go me. do miss everyone back home though, looking forward to the next nine weeks of amazingness then marriage hooplah back in the states. ill try to continue to stay unkidnapped and unswine flued. you do the same.

i have these pink spots of the skin on my feet. they will probably become scars, slightly off color from the rest of the appendage.  but their story is not one of adventure, not of childhood mischief.  they are from poorly fitting sandals, walking, rubbing until the skin is gone. then sand, movement, friction preventing any scabs from forming. walking, that is my story.  i have scars on my knees from poor form inside a tube pulled by a motorboat.  i have a scar on my upper lip from being kicked by a dog watching space jam, scars on the bridge of my nose and under my right eye from falling on my face, drunk, stoned, alone in a dorm room in amsterdam. i have no marks from surgery, no stories of casts or slings, no broken arms from falling out of trees, hitting a rock on the pavement with my skateboard flying full speed. my fingers are not disfigured from that bar fight defending anothers honor or whatever. there are no sports stories, jammed thumbs or sprained ankles from the state championship game. my arms are not strong from rock climbing or weight lifting or construction jobs taken in desperation. instead they feel sore after grocery shopping, or carrying boxes, or bowling. my life is one of avoiding risks, of taking the easy path, the one with signs and cleared rocks and safety.  too scared to take chances, excusing missed opportunities, rationalizing inaction.  loves stay hidden, the only kisses i go for are the ones i know will be reciprocated, or that dont matter, and who cares if they fail. i quit my job only with a soft cushion of cash ready, my travels are to safe places, my stays are with english speakers. i eat in familiar restaurants, drink for the comfort of a familiar state of being. i hide in my own life.

this is who i am, and this is who i will be. we decide, subconsciously, who we are early in life, what we do, how we play, who our friends are.  whether we come home before our curfew or after. whether we sneak out windows or ask permission. whether we use imagination to build forts or treehouses or invent war games. whether we walk up and talk to that girl, or just talk to our friends about it, joke about her looks or her mom or how good she looks in that tight shirt. this happens early, in grade school, in boy scouts, in college parties. this doesnt happen after twenty-six years. this doesnt change now. no matter what movies you see, what quirky girl the hero finds in a coffee shop who helps him break out of his shell. the shell exists, suffocates if you let it, strengthens when you pretend you can break it. noone elses personality, mindset, lifestyle will ever exist inside your own. its just the way it is.  whether you grow up or not is mostly a function of accepting what you already are, adapting it to discover and achieve those things you want. the fight will just leave you tired and unfulfilled. and by you i mean me. im slowly accepting the truth, that my scars will only ever demonstrate bad footwear choices. maybe thats giving up. but maybe not.

but the good news is, i can go to www.textsfromlastnight.com (NSFW, NSFMOD*, NSFC**) and pretend. or feel relieved i am this way. or just laugh. god thats a funny site.

* Not Safe For Moms Or Dads
** Not Safe For Children

when you sit, outside, wherever, and think about all the thing youve let pass you by, the people, the loves, the possibilities, it leads one to wonder. just who is that one, waiting by the fire, out there in the future? past all present tense. and then, maybe, its not just your eyes watering when you yawn. maybe its something else. you know?

when you yawn, it means youre tired, right?  like, big yawn, watery eyes, all that, should indicate a desire to sleep.  especially when ones been off all day, hungover for no good reason, effects of drinks seemingly never drank. drunk. whatever. i didnt drink alot and i felt like crap all day. thats the point. headache, sleepy, lazy, irritable. couldnt stand the crowds at folklife festival, had to bail. couldnt lay in the sun, made my head spin. ate some, stomach hurt. drank coffee, bile wanted to push up the throat. why?  doesnt make sense. napped for like ten minutes, but that cant be the story.  my eyes were closing while starting a trek across town to go out, but even after bailing on that, watching four hours of old lost episodes, it seems i should be able to crash. all the signs are there. just not happening.

i found a pretty good looking volunteer opportunity in central america. waiting for a call, for more info, but its quite promising. couple months building things, helping in an orphanage, things like that. guatemala or costa rica. wanna come?  well, dont answer that till im sure. cause i may change my mind tomorrow. i keep going back and forth as to a future.  i thought i had an idea, once, sitting on the roof deck, enjoying a cigarette at some ungodly hour of another restless evening, wondering if i was going to be up to see the sunrise. there was an epiphany, or not an epiphany but a moment of clarity. but, well, as these things tend to go for me, whether by fate or inaction, that path seems to have closed up.  its ok, really.  silly dream anyway.

silly or not, i could sure go for a dream right now.

if theres a lesson in life, perhaps, its just to stop looking for lessons. i mean, no matter what one thinks about anything, the impressions, conclusions, process, its inevitably wrong, right?  im not talking science here, im talking real life. day to day things, the reality of the moment. its not something you can put to hypothesis, method, results and conclusion.  its just whats in the gut, or the heart, or the back/bottom of the mind. surrounded in dopamine or some shit. i dont know where these things come from, but its a flawed birth, messy and unpoetic. so really, one is probably better served to act on instinct, on nothing, just do and see what happens. probably. to the thinker, though, this is surrender. unfathomable. like jumping off a cliff with the fog too thick to see how deep the water is beneath.

can you imagine it?  being lebron james, fighting, shooting, raging through a game like that and seeing your team lose it for you?  sure its got nothing to do with anything, but if thats your life, and lets face it, its pretty much all lebron can ever feel good about, after the money and the women and the illegitimate kids and the fame and the money have already shown up, theres just the winning. the legacy. the fight for history, and if he gives 49/6/8 or whatever he ended up with, and the rest of his team can barely even double that, cant stop the magic from dunking and driving and open shooting, jesus christ, how does he even sleep in that absurd mansion with twenty eight bedrooms and six pools and naked women in the pantry?  i mean, you let them come in to your house, game one, break your shot clock AND beat you?  ouch man, ouch.

i was riding shotgun in megans car today, after helping her move out and on the way to return some cable equipment, when, while stopped at a red light, a van pulls up, slows down just enough for the asian man to open his window, lean out, and sneeze directly at my face. i mean, come on. i dont know how to say swine flu in chinese, but i do know how to yell asshole out a car window. and i did. not cool man, not cool. its like if im walking down the road, and need to fart, but instead of just playing it off and hiding the impact in the motors and exhaust all around i stop, pull my pants down, and flatulate inside your cup of coffee.  see, you wouldnt like it, would you?  but now youll say hey man, i dont drink coffee, and when i walk down the street i wear one of those cool blue medical masks, so what are you going to do to me now?   and i have no answer. except this brick. and we see how it looks halfway buried in your skull. got it?  dont sneeze on me. jerk.

the quote in the title is written by william gass in a story entitled “in the heart of the heart of the country.” incredible piece of writing, if story may be a bit generous a label given theres really no plot, action, or movement, just description, feeling, and place. ive been reading this collection of american short stories from the last half of the twentieth century.  somehow, i never realized the perfection of the short story as a written form.  to be able to say something, provoke feeling and thought and wonder in the confines of a few pages, with incredible imagery, simple but fascinating characters, whether plot or resolution really exists, to imply instead of expound, it really is a beautiful thing. every one different, some better than others, but all with merit. not to mention if one isnt your thing, if it does nothing for the imagination, in a few pages there will be a new one.  i want to pursue this, just as an exercise in humanity, not as an attempt to enter their world, which has barriers of vocabulary and talent i could only dream to climb. i want to study them, dissect them, get in the mind of the author, the spirit of the settings and the actions. and yet, my attention span falters, the new laptop glows a small green light to steal my eye, the fight in the street and the sirens that follow pull me from the pages.  lids fall in daydreams and insipid personal fantasies. is this a product of the technology ive clung to for most my life, stimuli that no longer stimulate?  or is something deeper?  can i train myself to be better, to focus, to follow through, to improve myself, my mind, my ability to process, remember the details, focus on each and every word instead of skimming through sentences like so many stones across the watery surface?  is this entire paragraph bullshit, mildly inspired by actual writers, form over meaning?  answers, there are no answers.  only hours in the day, only deficient attempts at locating a future.

while i was travelling, at least at the beginning, i was attempting to keep a diary.  you know, to record the more personal feelings, activities, private things that maybe the trip would bring out, but didnt need to be public information.  it lasted about ten entries, terrible handwriting (seriously, these computers are killing penmanship), random longings, plans, people who caught more than a passing fancy. i dont know why i stopped really, but perhaps it was just that i was falling into a routine. its sort of funny, even in an adventure like that, an amazing time, experience, at times it seemed i was merely moving from place to place, enjoying it all but no longer seeking, thinking, internalizing.  what does it say about me that i cant just immerse myself in anything, ever, that theres no drive for more.  i thought this would provide it, a bit of a kick start, a break to rearrange my thoughts and personalty, to begin fresh with a better outlook and a sense of purpose. but really, it didnt.  it was just a fantastic, beautiful, extended vacation, where theres no reality to go back to. now im here, in seattle, spending hours in a home thats not mine, nights on an appreciated couch, wondering what to do next.  travel more, but can i really appreciate it right now?  volunteer, but does anything inspire me?  work, but can i even remember what responsibility is?  branch out, but in what direction?  im living in a void, enjoying time with the few (awesome) friends i have, but outside of their existence really, as those around me grow up and fall in love and get engaged and buy houses and get pregnant and receive promotions.  its all very great, having freedom, possibilities, resources.  but what is it all worth without an inspiration? 

ill get some closure on the trip in a near future post, some thoughts on the differences and similarities of cities, lives, opinions and goals. and some photos, at least the ones in my cameras possession.  i was waiting for this new toy to get to writing, and its been here, and with time comes words, so there you go. plus, i want to brag.  i was in greece, for gods sakes. if there is a god, i cant imagine why he would reside anywhere else. someone actually made that observation actually, a friends i met on a long overnight shuttle ride, on the occasion of us laying on rocks on a tiny island off the coast of corfu.  a small white church stood behind us, and as we surveyed the clearness of the water, the rolling landscape of peaks, monasteries, houses, roads and beaches, she said “you know, i think i see why the greeks were so completely obsessed by gods and religion.  i mean, if you lived here every day, especially in those days before technology and cars and noise, just moving though life in the peace and tranquility and beauty all around you, how you could help but believe it was all created by a divine?  these things dont happen by chance.”  (i may have embellished that quote a bit, but you get the idea)  and of course i agreed.  religion or not, some things are so breathtaking that they also defy explanation, science, rational thought. not in the absolute sense, of course, because we have perfectly good methods for explaining why these places and things exist.  but in the moment, as you see these things, all that disappears.  the nature, the history.  for a few seconds, its just pure beauty.  sight, sound, smell.  and you dont want to blink, because once you do, who knows if the moment will pass?  so you stare, then hold your eyes to sun, and thank the gods.

im not a talented enough photographer to capture any of that feeling.  and its not just nature, a similar thought process goes through your head when youre climbing the steps of the duomo, or walking up the street towards the colisseum, or laying in a park by the flowers of the queens garden in london, or seeing a show in manchester, entering a five-story dance club in barcelona, wandering through orange trees in sevilla, drinking your first liter of ten percent beer in munich.  hiking in the alps, wandering the classic streets in bruges, seeing the gross fat girl under the red lights in amsterdam, walking the canals in venice on the way home after carnaval.  all these moments, places, sights, experiences, the wonder does not cease, because its something youve read about, seen on tv, heard stories, but then, when its reality, its all you can do to stay on your feet, not just sit down in the middle of the street and realize no matter how lost, aimless, alone, childish or uninspired you sometimes feel, youre still one goddamn lucky guy.