The stages of recovery.

Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
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Trip End Ongoing


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Where I stayed
hostel el momento

Flag of Nicaragua  ,
Thursday, January 5, 2012

...this morning.  Yes I'm still awake as I bundle myself into a taxi.  I can't be bothered waiting on a shuttle, or risking the chicken bus with potential kidnappers, considering the state I'm in.  It's time to get out of this crazy place and crash into a quiet hostel in Granada, ready to start some clean living, away from smoking, drinking, hedonism and debauchery.  I should start a charity sweep stake to see how long I'll last.

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.


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