Tikal

I wake up at 3:30am to hike through the pitch-black jungle. all i can see is the person directly in front of me. i stumble over rocks and roots and slide around in mud. all i hear around me is the sound of insects, some fluttering by, some buzzing, and occasionally a gross crunching noise, which i suppose is one of the three inch long grubs with black heads that are all over the jungle floor. i live in fear of running into a spider web, as the spiders here are two to two and a half inches in diameter and are all sorts of bright orange and red colors. they look positively menacing.

As we progress further into the jungle, terrifying growling screaming noises start coming from the treetops. Howler monkeys. These things sound like a monster out of a horror movie--the screams they make in no way resemble what i previously thought monkeys would sound like.

our hike takes us to the base of Temple IV at Tikal, where I climb 230 feet to the top and sit silently, waiting for the dawn. all around me circles the chirping of insects and howling of monkeys. I can see nothing.

as the sky begins to lighten, the noise in the jungle gets louder, and all kinds of birds start chirping at once. i can barely make out the shifting veil of fog that surrounded the trees below. Temple IV is so tall that its top, where I am sitting, is above the canopy level of the jungle. 

i watch as the sky lightens even more and the trees all around me start becoming visible. the mist shifting through the trees is breathtaking. what other place could have served as the scene of the rebel base camp in star wars?

i am suddenly aware of how very, very far i am from home.

small joys

today i was driving home from class
when i decided to flip around and look for
a spanish language radio station to listen to
and i found a station where a woman was reading
what could, by its cadence, 
only be a beautiful piece of literature
i listened and thought: this reminds me of 
gabriel garcia marquez. 
the rhythm and the word choice were so familiar.

then, i listened more closely, 
and realized--it WAS garbriel garcia marquez!
i had stumbled upon
a spanish radio reading of 
"La prodigiosa tarde de Baltazar."

and all day i have been immensely proud of myself
for having been able to identify 
Gabo in his native language.

and you thought this was going to be a poem, didn't you?

come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner and SHINE!