What Time Is It?

[Tap your foot to the beat of the Spin Doctors, What Time Is It, 1990s hit while reading this post and you’ll be even more entertained.]

A night bus can really jostle your internal clock.  After  a pleasant dinner last night, Blake and I bid our farewells to the homeboys and hopped on a bus to Guatemala City around 9pm.  A couple hours in, I was nudged awake by some dude who had my seat.

…But I have my seat? I’m sitting in it?

I woke up my brain as best I could to the babble of Spanish coming my way and settled it out with the bus driver.  I stumbled down the aisle.  Back to MY seat, back to sleep.

Good morning Guate!  Showed up at our hostel at 6am — finally got let in the front door after calling a few times from the payphone across the street.

By 7am, Blake and I were on a chicken bus (super brightly colored bus, for whom traffic guidelines are optional) and headed to Antigua.

We stumbled around for the day, cappuchinos upon our 8:30am arrival and WOW, there are a LOT of tourists here and OH HEY big massive volcano on the horizon.  Pretty intense and overwhelming feeling of being surrounded by and drowned in a mass of people…I felt a primal calling to return to the monkey lifestyle.

Alas, we wrote and chilled out for the day, got lost in a legit supermarket (they didn’t sell ice cream….WHY NOT!?)  and hopped another bus back to the city city.

Don’t worry mom, I made it home by curfew.  In bed and dreaming by 7:45pm.

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