Travel Lesson #1

Back careful what you daydream in the movie trailer of your life...


Last year, while planning this trip, I spent countless hours daydreaming about all the adventures I would soon be having. My heart raced, as scene after scene of surfing in El Salvador, hiking volcanoes in Guatemala, tangoing in Argentina flashed before my eyes. I was bold, wild, fearless - ready to jump off cliffs. I was sure my life would change, that I would change. At least that's what the good people at Lonely Planet promised. Selling millions and millions of guide books based on the singular affirmation that "travel broadens your horizon" and "changes you forever". I was sold! It didn't matter that I'd never learn to swim or have two left feet, the details weren't going to slow me down. But half-way up Fuego - hot, sweaty, and spent - reality did.



At the base of the hill, staring up the "couple more miles" to go and finding no escalator, I was ready to turn tail and run. But our guide didn't speak English and I didn't know enough Spanish to convince him. I made it up that volcano deluding myself that I'd come too far to turn back. Clearly a lie when faced with the onus of climbing back down. I should have known better - no where does anyone talk about the joys of "leaving" their Holy Grail. Ask Peter Jackson. In the Lord of the Ring trilogies, we see Fido & Co. go off on their great adventure but nowhere in the 9 hours of footage do we see them straggling those same miles home.



Getting down my Holy Grail required ingenuity. When laying down and dying failed to work, I went straight to Plan B - rolling down the hill like a clown in a barrel, minus the barrel. Before I could stop, drop and roll, I was tramped by my fellow hikers who'd been to the mountain top, and felt "no ways tired". They were energized by the picture-taking lava moment. Pictures they could have cut and paste off any Discovery or National Geographic website, mind you. But come Monday morning would lead to boasting around the watercooler, passing around the Cannon, to those smart enough to stay home.

Its still fuzzy how I made it to the van, I vaguely remember a carrot and a gun. Back at the hotel - mocked by my dreams, sunburned and crippled, face down in the lawn lapping water from the sprinkler system - I was still waiting for the transformation to begin.