TravelStream™ news feed for member dmwalsh on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/dmwalsh en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 04 Dec 2008 16:17:58 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1228425300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1228425300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1228425300/tpod.html Thu, 04 Dec 2008 16:17:58 -0500 Living the Questions

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Driggs, Idaho, United States

A long, long overdue entry, and probably my last. My travelin days are over, for at least 4 more months.

Here I am in Idaho. It has been (and continues to be) an incredibly hard landing and transition back to life stateside. I don't know why exactly (maybe it's unexpectedness?) but intra-US culture shock is very intense for me, probably much more so than anything I felt in my travels abroad. Sure, moving from Kentucky to Africa was hard, but nothing will ever compare to the move I once made from Arizona to Kentucky. Who knows why going to Mexico felt like a homecoming, but being in Idaho feels like I've landed on an alien planet?

Can't remember where I even left off last, but suffice to say, the last week or so of my travels was wonderful. I absolutely loved Peru. One of many highlights was the 12-hour Chiclayo-Lima bus ride on a double decker bus (I rode on the top level)... and, as if that weren't cool enough, we were served (hot!) breakfast and lunch (Peruvian-fied Chinese food), all the movies were English-subtitled, and mid-afternoon all passengers participated in a bus-wide game of bingo. It's the only way to travel, I tell ya!

My last 24 hours in Mexico were a whirlwind. I remember being giddy and bouncing down the Mexico City airport terminal after many, many hours of exhausting travel, chanting/sing-song-ing in my head "Mexico makes me happy! Mexico makes me happy!" I had a couple of tortas ahogadas in Guadulajara, trying to enjoy and consume as much Mexican food as possible before leaving the country... lime juice and salsa on everything!

Getting back to Arizona involved a long, long time on a bus. Lots of middle of the night checkpoints too. By the time I arrived in Nogales, I was starving, exhausted, and very restless and anxious, but only an hour's drive away from Tucson... theoretically. But between waiting on another bus and border formalities, it took me about 5 (excruciating) hours.

I had a really interesting first couple of hours back in the US. The bus from Nogales dropped me off in a part of South Tucson that I didn't recognize at all. And while I would have known exactly what to do if I were still in Mexico, there in Tucson, the closest thing I have to a hometown (and really, probably one of the closest places to Mexico outside of Mexico), I couldn't even find a working payphone. No buses, no internet cafes, no taxis to flag down... completely unlike any other country I've ever been in. It was dark, I had my luggage, and I started walking. By blind luck, I found a Sun Tran bus eventually (quite an intense way to re-acclimate to American life, really), rode it into familiar territory, and ate an Eeggee (to reclaim my Tucsonan identity).

Unfortunately, I only had about three days in Tucson. Most of it was spent unpacking from Mexico, and immediately repacking for Idaho. To be honest, up until about three weeks ago, I hadn't put much thought into this winter. It never occurred me that I'd need special clothes for snow or for work, for example (apparently t-shirts don't aren't universal apparel), but knew I was in trouble when I was freezing cold while I was still in Arizona. Luckily, my parents were there to help me, and my dad even drove me all the way up to Idaho.

And where to even begin writing about my new life here?

I live in a town with one stoplight. A town with a population of 1100. It's a loveable place, definitely, but an adjustment. I thought I knew small towns from Kentucky, but, believe me, this place takes small to a new level. The day my dad and I drove into town, there was a herd of cattle strolling down Main Street (also a state highway). There's a beautiful grocery store, but it's a 2 mile walk from my apartment (I don't have a car here) and is closed on Sundays... walk in the door, and, randomly, you'll be greeted by two Japanese men preparing sushi.

There's a huge Mexican immigrant population here, and while I was originally very excited about that (hoping to make friends, continue using my Spanish, indulge in the Comida Mexicana I've come to love, etc.), it has probably been the hardest thing about moving here. I see racism everywhere I look, and it's eating away at my soul. It wasn't even a month ago that I was a foreigner, and I vividly remember the kindness and hospitality of my hosts, particularly in Mexico. To the see the situation reversed in every way is literally making me sick.

To be honest, I want to go home. While I can appreciate it, I'm not particularly endeared with the snow, the mountains, with my job, or with small town life.

I'm getting too old and too tired to be miserable, I don't have anything to prove to anybody at this point, and while I'm sure I could gain something valuable from sticking around Idaho, I don't doubt that there are other lessons elsewhere. Life is hard here, and I'm not sure it's all together "worth it."

Still, part of me wants to stick around. Part of me wants to try to make a difference. Start an intercambio program, for example- a Mexican-American cultural and language exchange... small things. We'll see.

I started formal training for a marathon (the full 26.2 miles) on Monday. Running in the cold is a new experience (who knew my face could generate so much liquid?), but so far so good. Had to take a couple days off because I came down with a fever and sore throat, but I'm on the mend now. Running will make many things clearer and easier, no doubt... as I once read on a t-shirt, "running is cheaper than therapy."

Will end things for now, but I'm back on the cell phone grid, have occasional internet access, and, honestly, could use some help to make it through the long, cold winter and the reverse culture shock. Would love to hear from you. Lots of love to you all.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1225998360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1225998360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1225998360/tpod.html Thu, 06 Nov 2008 15:18:01 -0500 Living the Questions

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Chiclayo, Peru

I feel very behind with writing. I still have tons to stay about my adventures, going as far back as the marathon in Guadalajara, but life keeps happening despite me. Time is flying and and I going to be home in just a couple of days! I´ll make an attempt at an update, but some stories will just have to be told in person, over coffee, and it´s probably better that way.

I´m in Chiclayo, Peru right now. I came here after deciding to pay a fee to change my plane ticket in Quito- a fee that allows me to fly out of Lima instead of having to trek back to Ecuador. I´m happy with the way everything worked out. I was feeling lazy about moving on from Mexico, and then lazy about leaving Ecuador, but I´m glad I sucked it up and got to see Peru. Many hours on a bus to get here, but at least I don't have to back track.

Had a bit of a hard time with Quito, to be honest. I feel the need to apologize before saying this, but no point in sugar-coating it- I didn't like the place. Gloomy, bizarre weather (four seasons in day, they say), and the city felt incredibly dangerous to me. I was happy to see Lucy and spend time with her, but beyond that, it felt very good to get out of Quito.

A 19 hour bus ride (and not a very nice one) later, I arrived in Vilcabamba, Ecuador, an area world-famous for the longevity of its inhabitants. After many weeks in big cities, Vilcabamba was exactly what I needed. It was incredibly beautiful and reminded me of pictures I´ve seen of Switzerland. I stayed in a very nice hostel (Vilcabamba is also famous for "luxury" backpacking establishments), where they offered massages, a restaurant with yummy food, hiking, and other activities... all very cheap. There were also great people staying there- met a woman from Tempe, and some incredible British women. I went horseback riding, swimming, got a reiki treatment, and did a lot of relaxing and recovery. They were all memorable experiences. Horseback riding stands out though, both because I still have huge bruises from it, and because I rarely feel so alive and at home as I do when I´m on a horse. Man, did we run! My partner in crime was a beautiful, well-trained, well-tempered, strawberry roan, who I wanted to stuff in my backpack and bring home... but alas, no.

Had a night bus out of Loja, Ecuador and across the border, into Peru. I didn't get much sleep, but it wasn't too bad. (I know I´ve been spending too much time on buses when an 8 hour trip is considered "too short".) When I arrived in Piura, Peru though, I guess I was anxious to get off the bus and I accidentally banged my knee hard on the door frame. It hit me in just the right spot and hurt just bad enough (which was pretty darn bad) that I immediately passed out. Not very fun, but a great way to meet people. Woke up to a a crowd of men surrounding me, rubbing my hands. A few fellow backpackers wandered over and told me that they too were headed to Chiclayo. I thought it might be a good idea to stick with them and ended up having some great conversations. They were Croatian, but a couple of them had worked in Jackson, WY and gave me some pointers. Saying it´s a "small world" doesn't even begin to describe it... things are meant to happen a certain way, and paths are destined to cross.

I've spent the past few days with my friend from Tucson, Elizabeth. She´s a Peace Corps volunteer about an hour outside of Chiclayo, in a town right on the ocean, Puerto Eten. It was a special experience staying with her... seeing her life as a volunteer helped me to remember mine. There's good and bad about it all, for sure, but it´s also true that there's nothing like it in the world. To actually get off the tourist trail for awhile and meet Peruvians was wonderful. To remember what I´ve lived through, to have the opportunity to try and reassure Elizabeth, and to recognize how I´ve changed and moved on, was something I needed to do before going back to the US.

Yesterday, I watched Barack Obama´s victory speech on YouTube, and it gave me chills. "Huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world," to be sure. I know it´s typical politician-speak to many people, but the hope Obama talked about is finally coming back alive for me. Part of it was made possible by the election, a lot of it by this trip, and it´s amazing.

Get to ride to Lima tomorrow morning (12 hours, which, incidentally, I now consider the the perfect length for a bus trip) on a double decker bus. How cool is that? Fly back to Guadalajara tomorrow evening, and will stay one more night in Mexico. (I´m already anxiously anticipating the food.) Will bus it back to the border Sunday (26 hours), and spend a few days in Tucson before heading on to Wyoming and Idaho. One day, very soon, I´ll be settled down.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1224883260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1224883260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1224883260/tpod.html Fri, 24 Oct 2008 17:24:29 -0400 Living the Questions

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Quito, Ecuador

Have so much to write about, but am feeling exhausted and disoriented. Haven´t had much of an opportunity to process the events of the past week or so, for forgive me if this entry comes out sounding schizophrenic (more than usual).

Up until a few days ago, I had planned on spending my remaining days in Mexico relaxing in Guadalajara, having freed myself from the expectation and pressure of running the half marathon... and then I came to my senses.

I ran the half marathon and finished. I had just trained too hard and too long not to. Have a lot of stories to tell from the experience, but the important thing is that it was fun- definitely one of the best things I've ever done with my life.

Immediately following the marathon, I got on a bus to go to Mexico City... again. Much happiness and feeling at home ensued. Like running, it was definitely the right thing to do, even if saying goodbye (for the third time) was hard.

The honest truth is that I started aching for Mexico before my flight had even landed anywhere else.

And now I'm in Quito, Ecuador.

Although it's less glamorous, I've spent a fair amount of time stressing over my airline tickets the past several days. I had booked a cheap flight to Ecuador back in August, and was sort of naïve about the whole thing. To me, it seemed like it would possible for me to "skip" segments of the flight, and that's exactly what I wanted to do yesterday (i.e. instead of flying from Guadalajara-Mexico City-Lima-Quito, I only wanted to fly from Mexico City-Lima so I could visit my friend in Peru). Well, apparently, if you do this, besides having to deal with the hassle of carrying on all your luggage (which must be under 8 kilos and contain no liquids), the airline's computer automatically cancels all other segments of your flight... basically, I wouldn't have been able to get home.

So now, here I sit in Quito, trying to figure out a way to get back to Peru, where I was yesterday. Two days of bus travel, each way, through the Andes, is sounding less than appealing.

I've been spoiled by Mexican bus travel, the luxury of which made yesterday's flights seem hellish. The buses in Mexico are hassle-free and you aren't treated like an animal the way you are at airports. I love the fact that I can buy my ticket home (well, to Nogales, at least) at the Guadalajara Wal-Mart

So yeah... Don't know how Peru is going to work out, and it's driving me a little crazy.

But, if I can just relax a little bit, life is good. I got off the plane yesterday and was thirsty, starved, exhausted, lost, a little sick, etc., but now I'm taking care of myself and know where I am.

Saw my dada Lucy, a very close friend from Tanzania this morning. My arrival was an unintentional surprise (again, I am supposed to be in Peru right now), but it was wonderful to see her. A little strange to navigate just how much we've each changed, the things we've been through, and how similar we still are. (It's a little bit of a dilemma to know whether we should we talk Tanzania, America, or Ecuador, for example.) In our hour at the café this morning, I had to hold back from dumping everything on Lucy... it feels entirely natural to tell her all the recent developments in my life (stuff I desperately need to talk about), but I have to remind myself that two years have past and that we have a least a week to spend together. Very much looking forward to it.

So, that's about it for now. Will probably head to Peru tomorrow or Saturday, be back here in Quito next week, and will fly back to Mexico and bus on to the US from there. It's getting close!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1224203280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1224203280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1224203280/tpod.html Thu, 16 Oct 2008 20:50:10 -0400 Living the Questions

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Guadalajara, Central Mexico and Gulf Coast, Mexico

Hola everyone,

Still here in Guadalajara, though for sleeping I've relocated to Tlaquepaque (right outside the city, even if it sounds like it should exist in a Dr. Seuss book), where I'm renting an apartment. For the most part, life has been very calm and quiet. This time next week, I'll be in Ecuador!

Got over the cold from hell... though I think I qualified for a world record in snot production. Went through three packages of tissues in 36 hours, which doesn't even include the toilet paper and napkins I used to supplement. You know it's bad when the ice cream man in the park walks up to you, not to sell you ice cream, but to give you tissues. (I've mentioned it before, but Mexicans are generally heartbreakingly kind.)

And speaking of healing and kindness...

Something really amazing happened with my e-mail recently... something which I believe was responsible for helping to feel much, much better.

As I explained last week, I get miserable when I'm not feeling well- a misery that fuels loneliness and spirals down, down, down. In an attempt to minimize that yuckiness, I e-mailed a lot of friends during my snotfest, and, nice people that they are, friends started e-mailing me (even some that I hadn't e-mailed first! Serendipity!).

As I was reading updates and well-wishes, I got to thinking about what an incredible group of people I have in my life. Really. People who are interesting, funny, kind, from all walks of life, and literally from all around the world (god, what I'd pay to get them all in the same room together!). So if any of you are reading this, please know I felt (feel!) so privileged to be somehow connected to you... thank you.

...but yeah.... mushiness, I know.

Having the apartment is nice. I've spent lots of time being domestic- doing things like hand-washing laundry each morning (one of my favorite things ever) and cooking. Last week, I devoted an entire day of my life to beef stew- shopping for ingredients, peeling and chopping vegetables, cooking, eating. It was yummy and I love this life.

It's no secret that I feel better suited to live outside of the US... I think it might be because Tanzania was the place I was first taught (forced?) to take care of myself. Right now, in Mexico- which resembles Africa with it's honest-to-god markets and laundry sinks- I feel like I'm able to treat myself better than I do back home. (If I only had my old charcoal stove!) I love playing homemaker and find feeding myself is somehow more "real" than office work or taking a trip to McDonalds. Granted, it takes considerably more time this way, but time is something I have... (another difference between my US life and my nomad life).

And, granted, most Mexicans I met don't live like I'm trying to- namely like the 21st Century never happened- but at least there's that option here.

A few steps away from my apartment, roasted corn, sugar cane, and dafu (unripe coconut) are available- 3 of my very favorite luxuries, and none of which are readily available in the US (why?!) but are so vividly linked with my experiences abroad.

I will miss it all. ...and even if it sounds like I constantly compare Mexico to Tanzania (which, it's true, I do), I will miss Mexico just for being Mexico....a beautiful, special place that I didn't even know I had room in my heart for.

Got a mass e-mail from Rita Golden Gelman, one of my nomading heroes, yesterday, and while there was tons I could relate to, this stood out for me:

"When I'm 'out there,' my body pounds and I feel a youthful glow of excitement and energy. When I'm a minority of one in a developing country I can't stop smiling. Even an ordinary breakfast, a wander into a store, a sit on a park bench, a meal in a stranger's kitchen give me a surge of joy that I can't duplicate in the developed world."

A wise friend recently told me that perhaps some good preparation for going home might be thinking about a commitment I want to make with myself. It's not a radically new idea for me (feel like I do it all the time- the marathon, for example, this trip even...), but the stakes are higher this time and I don't know if I'm ready. The proposal?: Be me no matter where I am. Yikes.

But even if I'm really sad and scared to be leaving Mexico, I'm also ready. I hate to admit it, but my time in Guadalajara has, and will continue to be, nothing but a buffer. After Mexico City, I was done traveling. Besides being physically sick after leaving DF, I was depressed and homesick.

But I am here in Guadalajara now, am being present, and am feeling good. Had a great day today, including an amazing run. I have big plans for the next several days (including running the marathon!), but everything's still unfolding.

Will update from Ecuador next week, and Peru the week after, and then it will be over. Just like Guadalajara, my time in these places aren't much about traveling... more about people actually, but I'm excited for it, if not entirely prepared.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1223324040/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1223324040/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1223324040/tpod.html Mon, 06 Oct 2008 16:15:31 -0400 Living the Questions

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Guadalajara, Central Mexico and Gulf Coast, Mexico

I'm here in the hostel in Guadalajara, under self-imposed house arrest. Feeling pretty lousy with the same kind of a cold or allergy thing- the same thing I had a few weeks ago in Mexico City, and this time it's back with a vengeance. (The drastic changes in elevation and temperatures haven't been kind to my body.) I'm okay though. Perhaps TMI, but it's mostly just a lot of snot, not Africa sick, which is something to be grateful for, believe me.

It isn't easy to be sick and alone though, no matter what. Problems that come into play are mostly mental and emotional. My modus operand of being completely and utterly dependant on myself (and no one else) gets called into question when I'm sick. Knowing that my body can "fail" like this scares me deeply. If I don't have me, who do I have? Dramatic questions like "will anyone notice if I don't make it back to the hostel tonight?" surface, and thus a cold morphs to certain death in my mind. I'm the first to admit I put a lot of pressure on myself.

But hooray for fresh mango juice right around the corner.

So even though I just wrote in the blog, I thought I'd take this opportunity to say a bit more about Guadalajara and what's been going on with me.

I think I'm coming to the realization that I'm not going to be in any kind of shape to run the half marathon in two weeks, and it breaks my heart.

I've been running for almost two years, and in formal training for about four months, with a goal of running a marathon.... and I'm getting there. I run slow, but I do run, and I love it. I've gone from being able to run for no more than a matter of minutes, to being able to run 8 miles. Most of my training has been in Mexico, which has been a huge challenge- landing some place I've never been and having to find swimming pools for laps and safe places to run straight away, all while having a million other stresses common to travel to deal with- but still, I've done it.

Last weekend, I went for a 10 mile run around beautiful Parque Viveros in Mexico City. I pushed through about 12 kilometers before I decided that something was wrong. To get back to the hostel, I had to take the metro, but I couldn't hold myself up. I slid onto the floor, and got off to rest of the platform at one point. It could have been a million things (most likely not eating well), but at the end of the day, all that really matters is that I didn't make 10 miles.

Then yesterday (an 8 mile day), I went to Bosque Colomos, yet another beautiful park, this time in Guadalajara. I packed my running clothes, but quickly realized all I was capable of was lying in the grass, oozing snot.

That's how I've come to miss two long runs in a row, and have started to think that it might not be realistic or wise to attempt the Guadalajara Marathon on October 19th.

I have a little notebook where I clip out pictures, quotes, and write about my training. One of the first things I wrote in it was this:

"You'll know you're a runner when you begin making decisions about when to run based on the collaboration between your mind and body." -John Bingham

It sucks (a lot), but that's where I'm at. Could say a lot more about that, but why? Running is simple, harsh, wonderful, honest- you do or you don't, you can or you can't. Some "don't"s and "can't"s are demons, but some just are.

And I'll get there someday soon... there's a race in November in Yuma that I'm eyeing.

Meanwhile... Guadalajara.

As I wrote a couple of days ago, it's beautiful. One of the highlights thus far has been the 3-story Mercado Liberdad- think pirated CDs/DVDs, clothes, saddles and other various charro (cowboy) accessories, and lots of lots of food stalls, all surrounding a courtyard of men selling cotton candy, kids blowing bubbles, and strolling mariachis. Suffice to say, I couldn't dream up anything this good.

Even though I wasn't feeling good, I also loved the park I was at yesterday. Although there are lots of things you can do there (rent horses, run, etc.), I mostly hung out at the picnic ground. I snacked on my 7-11 provisions, sprawled out on my kanga, and watched impromptu handstands, chicken fights, games of baseball and volleyball, etc. For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel the least bit foreign. I forgot I was in Mexico, by not trying to escape.

...and there's the food. I think it would be impossible for me to find food in this city that I wouldn't love. I know that sounds exaggerated, but really... My biggest complaint is that my hostel provides a breakfast of toast, yogurt, and cereal- an issue because I've grown accustomed to buying my own "desayuno," usually consisting of high-cholesterol deliciousness like eggs and chorizo. I'm sure my heart will welcome a few days of yogurt.

I'm here for about another 2 weeks. (I'm on the search for an apartment.) On the 22nd, I fly to Ecuador to see a Peace Corps friend (from Tanzania). After a week in Quito, it's on to Peru, for a week with another Peace Corps friend (from Tucson). Then it's back to Guadalajara, a 26 hour trip to the border, a week or so back home, and on to Idaho.

]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1223168400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1223168400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1223168400/tpod.html Sat, 04 Oct 2008 22:15:53 -0400 Living the Questions

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Guadalajara, Central Mexico and Gulf Coast, Mexico

Hi from Guadalajara- a city that is, in one word, idyllic.

A few more existential crises under my belt. Days and days of asking myself infuriating questions like "Am I only so happy because I'm actually miserable? Does simple kindness mean so much to me because I'm starved and lonely? Have I come to know God only because I'm so tired of purposelessness? What is REAL?"

As a friend in DF told me shortly before saying goodbye, "the voices in your head are nice, Danielle, just not when they all talk at the same time."

True dat. Who the heck cares why I'm happy? I don't need to find where it came from, deserve it, try to "earn" it through guilt or torturing myself, worry about it going away, whatever. I just am. Unified in a happiness not dependant on anything else. So no more talk of getting my arm chopped off, I promise.

Somewhere along the way, I commited to leaving DF- the city that was love at first sight- by October 1st. I maintained my vow, but smartass that I am (even with myself), I chose a bus leaving at exactly 11:59 PM.

The last three days in Mexico City were a bit crazy, namely because I had tons of touristy things I wanted to do but had put off until the last minute.

One day I went on a tour to Teotihuacan- basically ruins, the most famous of which are pyramids. There was some tradition of human sacrifice at the site and, playing into our morbid nature, the tour focused a lot on that. I was trying to behave myself, but as happened on a couple of other visits to archeological sites on this trip, I started to think about Rwanda. Seeing skulls triggers it in me. The piped in sounds effects of people screaming (really... no exaggeration) didn't help and were more than a little disturbing and over the top. I felt better after I made a solo trek up a pyramid and spent some time being contemplative.

Also went to the Basilica de Guadalupe, a holy place for Mexican Catholics (and also, though less frequently acknowledged, descendents of the Aztecs). The place has a really interesting story behind it involving a now-saint named Juan Diego. (I won't get into it here but is worth some research, or an in-person retelling come November.) In December of each year, pilgrims from all over Mexico come to the Basilica, some on bloody knees. All of it- the legend, the place, the martyrdom- really appealed to the Catholic in me. I felt more than little ridiculous- viewing the pope-mobile, riding past Juan Diego's tilma on a moving sidewalk, etc.- but the next day when someone asked me "you don't actually believe all that stuff, do you?," I had to confess that I wasn't sure that I didn't. I was glad I went.

The next day I ventured into the Anthropology Museum with a Swiss friend I met in the hostel. I had wanted to be serious about it and get there early, plan in hand, but the universe insisted I loosen up. I rode in a petal boat in the lake in Chapultepec Park, shared a brownie with ice cream with my new friend, and had a lot of fun doing a "crash course" through the museum, posing for funny pictures with mannequins. I may not be able to speak intelligently about ancient Mesoamerica, but hooray for yet another opportunity to be a big kid.

...And, of course, I said goodbye.

Spent 17 of my first 24 hours in Guadalajara sleeping (the Christmas movies playing on the bus (already!) kept me from sleeping well during the trip from DF). Have spent most of the rest of the time shopping, which is not at all like me, but has been sort of fun.

Today I went to a fancy mall to buy new running shoes for the marathon, which blew a week worth of budget. Also went to the massive, 3-story Mercado Liberdad in search of yummy street food, and it was just amazing. Then, by mistake (needed laundry soap and the bus dropped me on its front door step), I ended up inside Wal-Mart. Tramatic.

Guadalajara is very clean and beautiful and has everything a girl could want, including (expecially) Indian food. (Comforting, because to have heard me talk before I left DF, you would have thought I was being sent into exile or something... certainly not to a city of 4 million people). There is even a little baby metro that I can ride if I start missing Mexico City too much. There is some of the best food I've ever eaten here. Around town I can see billboards advertising the marathon. There are these road signs everywhere- signs that read "Nogalas" with a little arrow. Yikes.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1222348320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1222348320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1222348320/tpod.html Thu, 25 Sep 2008 12:47:14 -0400 Living the Questions

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Mexico City, Mexico

Once again, it feels hard to write, though for a different reason than last week. Mostly, I´ve just gotten into a such a comfortable routine here- going to the 7-11 on the corner for a coffee in the morning, checking my e-mail, eating my desayuno campensino- not exactly the stuff enthralling, exotic travel writing is made of.

For better or for worse, I haven't been doing very touristy things this past week. Factors:

-The few things I have left on my "must see/do" list are huge and overwhelming. I'd like to go to the legendary anthropology museum, for example (It´s massive and can take days to fully explore. I've heard stories about people getting lost inside), and go to Teotihuacan to climb a great, big Aztec pyramid, but I just haven't been up for those adventures.

-There aren't many people left in the hostel dorm anymore, so it´s been hard to find sightseeing partners, which, though not necessary, seem to make life as a gringa more enjoyable and make great motivators.

-A homesickness just barely bubbling up into my consciousness. It´s affecting me in weird ways- I´m constantly craving American food, for example. (Confession- I went both to Starbucks and McDonald's.) I know Mexico is getting to me though, because last night I ate Domino´s Pizza with some friends and I put salsa picante all over it. What the heck?!

-Training. This week is the most intense week of my half-marathon training- 18 miles. After this, it´s all taper- resting up for the big day. With the combination of my super slow running and the 45 minute commute to the park/pool, training eats up a lot of time. (I love it though, and like to think it balances out the pizza and McDonald's.)

-New friends. Been hanging out with this couple I met- a Mexican woman and a Dutch man. They've, in turn, introduced me to some of their friends, and have been incredibly kind to me. (They are the ones I ate pizza with.) Pizza with friends may sound mundane compared to climbing pyramids, but it´s a huge blessing, and I´ve enjoyed spending my time this way.

(As an aside- kindness, especially in it´s simplicity, is incredibly beautiful and everywhere in my life right now. Yesterday, I was damn near weeping because someone offered me a seat in the metro. While I was running on Sunday, a man slowed to stay with me, just to say, over and over, "congratulations!" I am grateful and am working on accepting.)

-Mental, spiritual, emotional crap. I´ve started to think, for example, about going home. I´m skeptical that there´s any kind of preparation I can do that will be helpful, but I´m trying. I think it´s a lot like being told by someone "Okay, in about a month and a half, we're going to chop off your right arm. Get ready." What can I do, besides be afraid? I´m constantly trying to remind myself that, deep down, as painful as it might be, I know that I´m not going to lose anything; I know that I have power I carry inside of me and that it can never go away no matter where I go, who I´m with, what I´m doing, even if I deny it.

...and now that I´ve raised that taboo-to-me subject of going home, an announcement: I´ve accepted a job at a ski resort starting the middle of November. I´m going to be living, of all places, in Driggs, Idaho, for about 5 months. A little anxiety about never having set foot in this part of the country, being away from my family and friends, coordinating this all from Mexico, whether or not I´m doing the right thing, etc., but all and all, it´s okay... if I just close my eyes and think powder.

So, yeah... sort of dealing with a lot right now. An annoying hinderance has been my preconceptions about what travel "should" be. My head tells me it´s evil to drink a Starbucks in Mexico City. Why? It made me feel good. My head tells me I need to go see/do certain things. Why do ANYTHING out of a sense of obligation? That´s crap. I refuse to live, let alone travel, that way.

A closely related struggle is deciding when to leave D.F. I know I´ve said it a million times, but I love it here. ...But now that I´ve reaffirmed that, I also have to say that I think I may need to leave soon.

This whole trip has been the metaphorical manifestation of what I experienced, physically, in the ocean a few weeks ago- being pushed and pulled, sucked in and spit out. Places have instantly repelled or grabbed me- sometimes both at the same time (as is happening right now with D.F.). I don´t know what it is (never been aware of anything like this before)... maybe intuition, maybe prejudice... but it´s strong and usually confusing. I just pray for honesty and strength to listen.

It´s going to hurt me to leave D.F., dammit. A precursor to the big arm chopping... maybe the equivalent of a finger or 3... and I have no idea where to go from here.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1221743280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1221743280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1221743280/tpod.html Thu, 18 Sep 2008 10:40:51 -0400 Living the Questions

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Mexico City, Central Mexico and Gulf Coast, Mexico

Wow. So much to write about since my last entry that I´m overwhelmed. But if you want the short and sweet version of what´s going on with me, I love Mexico City.

Arrived back in DF Sunday morning, after a brain draining 6 days in Puerto Escondido. Managed to catch my requisite one big wave boogie boarding, and a few seconds later (when panic set in) I had my requisite one big wipe out. Subsequently managed to wipe out about 40 gigs of music off my ipod somehow, which was a little sad (especially on the 13 hour bus ride to the city), but it´s also a really great chance to expose myself to some new music. Hooray for $1 counterfeit CDs off the street. Burning "Lo Mejor de la Musica Country" as I write. :)

If there is one reason I´m glad to be out of Puerto, it´s because of running. DF is certainly no picnic with smog and the high elevation, but I swear to god, during my week in Puerto, I was chased by a turkey, attacked by a pack of dogs, and forced to run through a bushel of crabs (that´s what a group of them is called... I looked it up!), and this is not even to mention how much I hate running in humidity and sand. The dogs were the scariest; one got me on the back of the leg- not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to leave a huge bruise which I´m still sporting. I can laugh it now though- about how close I came to becoming the new Coppertone sunscreen baby, nearly being depantsed by a dog on the beach- but still, a treadmill has never sounded so good.

But DF... sigh.

The sights of DF were the first familiar people, places, things I had seen in a month. I know I only spent a very short time here previously, but I can't help feeling like I've arrived home. I love the hostel I´m staying at and the people I´ve met there- kindred nomad spirits. I love the perfect weather- barely cold enough for a sweatshirt. I love eating refried beans for breakfast.

This week was especially special, because of the Independence Day holiday on Tuesday. In true Mexican fashion, the party started late Monday night. All over the country (but especially in Mexico City) people gathered to hear the "Grito," a shout of "Viva Mexico!" which was first issued in 1810 by revolutionaries seeking Mexico's independence from Spain. The biggest Grito is given by the president in Mexico City's zocalo (main square). Guess who was there?! Sort of the Mexican equivalent of New Years Eve on Time Square. So much fun. Even my very American chest got all puffy when the speech about human rights, freedom, etc. was given.

But enough with the culture/history lesson; the best thing about Mexican independance is foam. Yes, foam.

All up and down the street leading to the zocalo, vendors were selling shaving cream-esqe foam in a can, and all up and down the street, people were spraying it at one another. There were certain intersections, with sprayers lined up on each side, that were like running the gauntlet. I, of course, absolutely loved it, bought a couple cans for myself, had foam fights with lots and lots of people, and came out of the whole thing looking like the adominable snowman, asking "why don´t we do this in America!? Can we do this every night!?" and vowing "I´m never going home!" Any opportunity to act like an obnoxious 6 year old makes me so happy... I think the world needs way more of them (opportunities, not obnoxious 6 year olds.)

After the zocalo and braving the foam-filled streets, I headed over to another area of the city with friends from the hostel. The celebration had a different vibe, but was also very fun. There was a carnival set up with rides (if it´s still set up, tonight I might go back an try the mechanical bull) and yummy food. We arrived just in time for fireworks.

Something happened to me while I was watching the fireworks, a huge ear-to-ear smile on my face, trying to fall up into the sky. A realization.

This is the happiest that I´ve ever been.

The best (but still completely insufficient) way I can describe what I mean is that I feel the hand of God everywhere, in everything.

The practical implication of this was that the "this is good, but we have to be careful not to mess this up" part of me completely shut off, and I´m now completely gung-ho. I want to live, all the way. I want to go for it.

The next morning, there was a parade, and still very much in 6 year old mode, I went and stood amongst lots of little girls on their daddies' shoulders. I guess I was sort of expecting a Macy's Thanksgiving Day kind of deal, but was a military parade. Still very cool though- I saw everything SCUBA divers, marching bands, a mobile kitchen with cooks riding in it, mounted cavalry men, giant grenade launchers, and more.

Since the end of the parade route was sort of nearby, a friend and I headed in to Chapultepec Park and eventually over to La Feria, an amusement park and the home of the legendary Montana Rusa I´ve written so much about wanting to ride. And well... I rode it! (I´m envious of a guy mentioned on a plaque next to the roller coaster though, who wrote it 1333 times in a row to set a world record.) Also rode a big, new steel coaster called Montana Infinitum, which has 3 vertical loops, and got to eat a corn dog.

When I got back to the hostel, utterly exhausted, some folks were sitting around playing harp and guitar and singing. I joined in "Let it Be," "Swing Low Sweet Chariot," and "Morning has Broken," and had yet another "I´m so, so happy right now" moment. (Hostel is run by Quakers and has sort of a hippie vibe that reminds me of Peace Corps... it´s good.)

Capped off a damn near perfect 24 hours by going to see "Mammia Mia" (again) at the movie theater. More singing.

Suffice to say, life has been good to me. A little afraid I´ve been burning the candle at both ends though, as I´ve come down with a cold or allergy thing. Spent all yesterday with a cup of tea in hand, resting, and plan on doing much of the same today.

Have I mentioned though, that I love Mexico City? That I love traveling? That I love life?
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1221060300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1221060300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1221060300/tpod.html Wed, 10 Sep 2008 12:26:39 -0400 Living the Questions

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Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca, Mexico

Hola from Puerto Escondido.

Been a quiet couple of days here. At first I was concerned with my lack of activity ("Am I sick? Unhappy? Going back into isolation-mode? Should I leave?"), but I´ve sort of realized that doing nothing is what people, in fact, pay a lot of money to come to Puerto and do ...and so, I´ve relaxed a bit... or am trying to.

Also, I realized that I´m nursing a bit of a broken heart. It´s completely embarrassing- like crushing on the most beautiful girl in school, the one everyone likes- but I fell in love with Zipolite.

Maybe it´s the Arizona in me, I´ve never really "got" the ocean, even when I had an opportunity to live next to it through Peace Corps. I never understood why people seek out beaches for vacations or found them so relaxing- drinking yak milk in Mongolia, or eating chapati off newspaper in a Tanzania is so much more my style. I don´t like being hot, humid, sandy, and salty. I hate seafood. I´m frightened of all the critters that I see brought out of the water (including, as I found out this week, the sea turtles that are so prevalent in this area. I don´t know what the heck the heck a turtle could do to me, but still...). I tried SCUBA diving and am the only person I know that hated it. I´m just not an ocean person, or so I thought.

Zipolite. I can´t even explain. Some things about it were miserable- everything I own being wet for 3 straight days, boredom, etc.- but I felt so, so calm there. Physically, I felt disgusting (dirty, sweaty), but every time I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I saw myself glowing and couldn´t help but think, "wow, this life suits you." My head´s non-stop chatter had slowed and almost stopped by my last night on the beach, after an afternoon in the water letting strong tides and currents push and pull me. While at a Zipolite restaurant waiting for my pepper steak (ordered in a fit of nostalgia for one of my favorite meals at Msemo- the ocean-front restaurant in Mtwara), I looked around and, to my amazement, saw two other people eating alone. I felt happy. I wrote in my journal that I feel like I fit in in Zipolite- like I was among kindred spirits.

It´s not the same thing in Puerto Escondido, but that´s okay. There are tons of real-life surfers here, and not ever having met one face-to-face, I´m a little awestruck. I´ve kept mostly to myself- reading, swimming in the hotel´s pool (the beach I´m closest to is very dangerous for swimming), catching up on internet stuff, cooking every possible combination of bread, eggs, and milk (my hotel room has a kitchen).

Last night I went out for a run, but first I had to search for something called the "andador" (concrete walkway), which I had read about in a guidebook. It took some wandering (the taxi driver kept insisting that was mispronouncing "adoquin," the name of the main tourist drag, and took me there instead), and when I found it, I quickly realized it was less than suitable for a run. There were tons of stairs and edges of the sometimes wet, slippery path overlooked pointy rocks in the ocean, so instead of running, I walked.

How to describe it? Walking on this path, crabs were scattering in front of me. Sometimes I´d turn a corner and the tide would crash into the rocks and spray me with a salty mist. At one point I "whoa"ed outloud, overwhelmed by the awesome power in the ocean. The view was beautiful and the sun was setting. At the end of the path was a lighthouse, and when I reached it, I turned back towards town. It was beautiful. I was glad I had the opportunity for the walk- felt like I was almost lead down the path... like it was God´s way of saying "hey, look at this."

My only regret, having given up on finding another place to run, is that I´m going to have to do an hour on sand today. Brutal, but if I can survive this heat and humidity, Guadalajara in October will be a nice treat.

Think I´m going back to Mexico City on Friday or Saturday. I want to be in the zocalo for the independence day celebration and hear the legendary el grito, "Viva Mexico!" It will be very, very crowded and crazy, but a once in a lifetime opportunity to be sure.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1220720100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1220720100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/dmwalsh/2/1220720100/tpod.html Sat, 06 Sep 2008 15:05:54 -0400 Living the Questions

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Zipolite, Oaxaca, Mexico

Greetings from soggy- rainy, sweaty, ocean-salty- Zipolite.

Here I am, on "Mexico's only clothing-optional beach," staying in a "embryonic ashram," whatever that means. Life is good. Traveling is amazing. (Don't worry- while I think nudity and sand are fine things independent of one another, I'm not convinced that they mix for me personally, especially when you add Mexican men into the equation.)

(In case you're wondering about the farm thing: the more and more I thought about it, the less and less appealing it seemed. Especially after they sent me an 11 page document of rules, including one that literally said "to avoid odors, we encourage you to change your socks daily." As much as I sometimes ache for structure and purpose, that´s not the kind I need.)

I fulfilled my promise to myself and left Oaxaca by my self-imposed Thursday deadline. It feels so good to be out. ...Not that there was anything inherently wrong with Oaxaca (want to be clear about that)... it was just that I felt like staying there was sucking all the life out of me. I think it probably has something to do with me playing it up so big before leaving Mexico, making it my only planned-out destination and all of that. (Had a similar experience with Mongolia.) I don't know. Again, I just know, that for whatever reason, it just feels good to be gone.

Had a nice couple of last days in Oaxaca though. Knowing I was leaving gave me a bit of a different prospective, and I did a things I had been wanting to do for awhile but had been putting off, like buying some stuff that I now have to carry- a sweatshirt and two quirts (wanted a lucha libre mask, but will wait on that)- and going on a tour to see the Tule tree (widest tree in the world), Mitla (very elaborate Zipolite/Mixtec ruins where to walk down in to a tomb- so cool, in a goose-bumpy kind of way), Hieve de Agua (an underground natural spring with an absolutely amazing view, and where I got to go swimming), and a mezcal factory (similar to tequila but with flavors like "pechuga de pollo"... chicken breast mezcal anyone?).

(Before I continue, a disclaimer: I'm about to violate one of the unspoken rules in the backpackers' code of ethics here- a rule which says you should never write home and say you're having (or had) a crap time, and a rule which, frankly, sometimes makes life very difficult- but please indulge me and except this something normal and nothing meriting special concern.)

Some things about these past couple of weeks have been really hard. My run last Sunday was a 7-miler (the exact halfway point of my training), and I ended up getting about 3-4 miles outside of town and just broke down- sat down on a curb and cried. Nothing like that has ever happened to me while running; I've never not completed a training run. I wanted to get on a bus, but told myself "just sit here, as long as you need to, until you find something in yourself that will allow you to get back to the hotel with your own power," and, though it wasn't pretty, I ended up walking back to town, feeling like I'd been taught a lesson.

The next day, I was in a church, and the same thing happened. Tears.

It's an incredible soul-transforming experience though- feeling so alone, far away, lost, and just sitting with that. It's like a literal manifestation of what I feel in the US, but one I can actually work through... and it ends up being empowering.

After first moving in the dorm room at the hostel in Oaxaca, I continued to be depressed and emotional. There wasn´t anyone in the room that first night, so I was thinking "Just great! I give up my nice, comfy, inexpensive room because I'm lonely, only to be in a bigger, emptier, less comfy, and more lonely room!" but it ending out working out, and by the time I left, the place was nearly-full, with a very diversity cadre of travelers. Met some cool people, and spend some time actually interacting with other human beings, and feel much, much better.

And then Zipolite...

Zipolite is very close to Puerto Angel (where I went snorkeling yesterday), and is an interesting town, apparently "founded" by a bunch of Americans hippies in the 60's, looking for the perfect place to experience the solar eclipse. Suffice to say, the hippies never left, and I can see why.

I arrived here yesterday morning, after a 9 hour bus ride from Oaxaca. I elected to take the slightly more expensive bus, the one that takes the longer, but less apt to cause motion sickness route, in hopes of getting some sleep (and not having to pay for a hotel room) and avoiding vomiting. It was still a really curvy road (as in luggage flying), but I was okay (with a Dramamine) beside being really, really cold (sat at the front of the bus- again, attempting to avoid vomiting- but it was a trade off because it also put me close to the artic air conditioning).

The bus dropped me off in Pochula (about 30 minutes from Zipolite) at 6:00 AM. I wasn't in the best frame of mind to bargain with an obnoxious taxi driver at that early hour and after I fitful night's sleep, but I didn't have a choice. After he tried to double our already negotiated price, I got angry and told him to let me out of the taxi. It was pitch black, and I had my heavy backpack, but I was able to stumble towards the sound of the ocean, and following the hotel's signs, came up on a big hill, climbed the hill, and saw it- the ocean. It was one of those moments out of a novel- the sun rising, the surf crashing, etc.- any description I could give wouldn't do it justice and would come off as cheesy. The hotel's office didn't open until 8:00, so I curled up an a hammock and slept an amazing, hypnotized sleep.

How to describe my accommodations? It's sort of like a tree house, with a 3 bed "dormitory" in it (though I'm the only resident at the moment). Saying that there the room has walls might be a bit of an overstatement, but who needs them with a view this amazing? I'm over the kitchen and the smell of pancakes (more indicative of paradise than anything the natural world has to offer, in my humble opinion) wafts up into the room. Sigh. And the very best part? Something that made me want to weep with happiness? Mosquito nets!! Yes!!! I slept under a mosquito net again, for the first time in almost two years, and while I know that this is something that not many people will understand, that probably by tonight, I'll be annoyed and opt not to use it, and that it will sound very cliche, but it made me feel so safe and protected- like a baby being back in her mama's arms after a long separation. It feels so right that I wonder if I'm destined to live in a insect and disease infested place (though, to be fair, Zipolite is not).

This place is doing funny things to my heart. It reminds me of Nkhata Bay, Malawi, which makes me think of it's Tanzanian counterpart, Mbamba Bay. Of all the places I've been in the world, Mbamba Bay has most mesmerized/captured me. I can't explain why exactly, or what I'd do, but I think a lot about going back there. This probably sound crazy but last night there was no electricity at the hotel (actually not a very common occurrence here), and I wonder if I caused that to happen by projecting Africa on the place. This morning, I was writing in my journal, looking out at the ocean, and the hotel started playing this African music (not in Swahili, but definitely in some Bantu language that I could understand a few words of)... I don't know how to explain what I felt.

I'm going to spend today, since it's kind of rainy, being introspective, and reading and writing. Tomorrow, I'm going to go boogie boarding. :) Monday, I go to Puerto Escondido.
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