The stages of recovery.
Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
333Trip End Ongoing
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It doesn't take too long to change cities, considering I've closed my eyes in San Juan Del Sur and opened them in Granada. I'm due to meet a rather nice friend of mine at five, as we are planning on going to Ometepe island tomorrow. I stagger into a lovely hostel, recommended by a fellow traveler, throw some money on the counter, my bags by a dorm bed, and wipe out on the top bunk fully clothed; my last fading action with shaking hands to set my travel alarm for 4:15pm.
Awaking with the persistent beep of my clock, my face melting off and clothes sticking to greasy skin, death should be an option. I really can't face doing anything else, yet somehow I manage to stick my head under a cold shower and wash away some of the redness in my eyes. It's a pretty horrific sight in the mirror. I've aged in San Juan Del Sur. I examine the condition of my skin, which has always been pretty bad, but I can only attribute this devastation to the amount of toxins in my liver. My system is screaming for a fruit smoothie at the very least. Then laser skin surgery when I reach Columbia.
For now though I'm happy to put some distance between myself and the 'bad things.' Every passing moment is a victory for mind, body and soul. As the seconds tick by, eating well, drinking fruits and not putting anything nasty in me, I can feel my body recover, my skin thankful I'm finally listening to it. They say you are what you eat and drink; in the past few weeks I've turned into a bottle of Flor De Cana and a pork burrito. I'm focused on this change, because I jest not when I say San Juan Del Sur would have killed me if I remained any longer. However I may have to take a little blame for some part in my own demise.
Somehow I make it to our meeting point and wait for an hour. Here we go again. I try to make my smoothie last, but I can barely keep my eyes open anyway. I don't have my contact lenses in, I'm wearing really dark glasses, I have a killer hangover and my friend has decided not to show up. When I return to the hostel and demand suitable excuses via facebook, she infroms me that she was just running late. It's not all doom and gloom is it? What was I saying about the glass half empty? I definately need to change down a few gears.
We spend the evening doing exactly what I need to do; nothing. Goodnight. Perhaps a better version of me will emerge from the cocoon tomorrow.