sheachristineprueger: cacao ceremonies, canasta.

My father, who had never met 'the guy' at this point, made sure to talk to him before our flight to Guatemala. He wanted to make sure we were flying together, and that I wouldn't be left 'unattended' for even a second in Guatemala City. He then forwarded us a bunch of information on how dangerous Guatemala City is. This is the definition of my father. My siblings and I grew up with him doing regular 'safety' lessons, where he would the role play the part of oncoming traffic, or a stranger asking us questions, etc. He is 'Mr. Safety' when it comes to his family, although I suspect that this comes from leading a pre-family 'risk induced' phase. Anyway. Instead of freaking out my new found guy (who is also 'Mr. Safety' when it comes to me, but not so much when it comes to himself on his own), he was impressed. He said if he had a daughter, he would do the same. There is nothing good to say about Guatemala City. As my guy said, 'there are just no redeeming factors'.

We spent a good portion of our time in Antigua, Guatemala. We were visiting a friend who runs an ibogaine clinic. Ibogaine, while primarily used for addiction, is also used for psychological trauma and issues, psycho-spiritual purposes, it is kind of the 'cure-all' or 'magic bullet' for whatever someone might be dealing with. I quit smoking, and can't even see a cigarette in a movie now without wanting to vomit. I also feel more at peace with myself than I have ever felt in my life. It was a life-changer, in the 'for real' way. Seriously. I urge anyone who is interested to read more about it, and anyone who is seriously interested to contact the guys we spent time with.

Antigua is a bizarre place. It doesn't feel real. I felt like we were on a movie set (a movie about a bunch of rich, western foreigners parading around spending money on overpriced, less than mediocre food). Still, it was home for a bit, and literally every single day was beautiful and fun. I taught 'the guy' how to play canasta, and I read a few 'good to great' books (including Super Sad True Love Story and Shantaram), and I got to relax, which I hadn't done in who knows how long. We were in Guatemala for their Independence Day, which is basically a 3-day long marching band and dancing parade, along with a countrywide relay style race (passing of torches included).

We didn't solely stay in Antigua. We went down to Lago de Atitlan and hippie-d out for a bit. We met people who use the word 'goddess' after every goddamn sentence, had a room next to a girl who was aiding a local in 'cacao ceremonies' (that's right, apparently enough of the stuff puts you in a trance), made friends with a Mayan family who had quite possibly the cutest kids on the planet (they made us good food and we purchased some awesome textiles and clothing from them that they had handmade), and then as nothing is too good to be true, the hippies got to us (or, one in particular, the one who was running the hippie commune) and we ditched out on our room without even paying the few dollars for our last night's stay.

Which brings me to, the hippie chic backpack culture. The primarily European (but Americans, as well) hippie chic backpacker scene was my version of a sketch comedy and we really got to be surrounded by them when we made a trip to Honduras. But that's for next time.