The Central Issue

I'm preparing to embark on what I hope will be a real adventure.

Following one month in Mexico, getting my tongue around the language and no doubt learning to curse like a streetkid, I'll be heading to Guatemala. There, I'll extradite my potty mouth, and make my way through Central America with a small group, hiking volcanoes as often as possible to justify bringing my boots at all. I will mistake Howler monkeys for Jaguars, as I hear most tourists do. Most significantly, I will overcome my semi-paralyzing fear of heights in the cloud forest canopy---on suspension bridges. I am hoping the view will pacify me. I might cry. That's OK.

I suspect the real challenge might begin when I find myself in Cost Rica. Alone. I will look back at the highways, the mountains, broken down buses, boats and cold-water-no-water guest houses that I just came from, and do it all over again. Me. Alone this time. I will already know the sound of the Howlers. I will know where the bus stations are in Nicaragua.

Or, maybe the hardest part of the trip will be boarding the plane to return to Canada. I guess we'll see.

Even though my looming birthday serves as a reminder that my "Twenties" are coming to a close, I have one favour to ask of you: Please. Please don't tell my mom.