I met a canadian named Dave here (If you've been to San Pedro, you know him). He told me visited the town for a week in 95, and has yet to make it out. Legend according to Dave is, if you spill even one drop of blood on San Pedro soil (of which I've spilled a few), you are destined to return. If you stay for longer than six weeks, you're here for life. Pushing five weeks, Micah and I are flirting with the line.
So, while there is still itch in the legs, we flee this Guatemalan paradise, for what appear from here to be less green pastures... but promise to live up to more. We've had our last hoorahs with the dear friends we've made along the way, and talked a couple more into giving up their studies and coming a bit farther with us. We've painted this every shade of red, and a few of the pinks.
We've ridden the horses,
paddled the kayaks,
rocked the bars,
played with the children,
and hiked the mountains.
San Pedro, itis for you that I can now say I've lived abroad, as you have been, and in part will continue to be, my home.
San Pedro "los hermanos barbos" will miss you!