Down But Not Out
Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

It's been a tough week or so for me. I feel like I've been roughed up and kicked when I was down. I could use a Band-Aid for a bruised spirit.

I had finally moved on from the theft last week, when I made a lovely discovery in Panajachel: the precious battery charger for my (busted) camera and an extra battery (presumably in the charger) were missing. Great, I thought, there goes another US$80… and now not only do I have a camera that scarcely works, but when the battery goes it'll be completely useless.

I couldn't remember when I used it last, but I had a hard time believing that I would have left it in Antigua, and it wasn't in my room in Panajachel—perhaps it was back in San Pedro. I cringed at the thought of paying the overpriced ferry to go back and look for it, but I did—punishment for my apparent carelessness. Upon my return I wasn't shocked to discover the lack of charger in my old room, and a hotel staff that had found nothing when they cleaned up the place. I essentially spent the monetary equivalent of 16 hours of Internet access, or a couple of street meals, to travel there and walk away empty handed.

Well, I didn't walk away from Lake Atitlán without anything to show for it… My body (chiefly my back) is covered with a hundred tiny, itchy, red (bed bug?) bites—a lovely experience.

Such trying days are teaching me about myself: How do I react to troubled times when there's no safe place or people to retreat to?

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