Nico's Nonsense

 May 15, 2011 Yesterday was my last FULL day in San Cristobal, today my bus will leave heading towards Tijuana at exactly 1 pm...Well 1 pm Mexican time, which could mean at 2 pm...Maybe even 3. Yesterday morning I had woken up with the worst migraine in the world, and as I stumbled out of bed and stumbled on over to try and look for pills unnoticed, I'm greeted cheerily by Yolanda and Pancho, as I hide my "morning face" I grumble that I have a headache, Yolanda say it's the heat, while Pancho tries to take pictures of me with his phone, but I'm certain it's because today is my last day here in San Cristobal. I'm certain that in some particularly odd way my body understands I'm going home and if I were crazy enough I would even say this is a sign, a sign from the earth, from my body, or from the tiny little   nerves in my brain telling me I should stay, I shouldn't go home. But instead I fumble around with a box that I believe is some form

  It's nearly 6 am, the sun is beginning to rise and still I haven't slept one wink.  This past day and a half has felt more like weeks. I have spent half the night at the hospital and the rest of this morning here, at home with my older sister and my mother; digging through tubs of photographs. Searching for photos...photos for the wake. My grandfather passed away at exactly 11:30pm last night. And I begin to feel sick to my stomach thinking that less than 24 hours ago I was talking to him about my recent trip to Mexico, he'd asked about the food I ate there (he loved food) "Did you eat a lot of beans out there?" I hear him asking in his goofy old voice. And my mind begins to drift off... To somewhere happier... Now It's nearly 11 pm. It's still Monday.  And I have spent the day here at home with family, with my sisters, aunt, cousins, mother and my grandmother. We spent the day in, like crabs, only opening the door for more family members or to le

     I'd been standing in the middle of my third class. Second to my last. With this slapped in the face kind of feeling. This paralyzing feeling.   I had thought about San Cristobal, and how after these last two classes I wouldn't be greeted by familiar faces as I walked home, I wouldn't take off my shoes, let down my hair and flop onto my bed. I wouldn't see Poncho's goofy smile greeting me at the front desk, or Yoli’s mischievous smirk sipping cafe con leche in the kitchen. This sudden fear ran through me like a bolt of energy. A bolt of realization. I had left San Cristóbal. I had left home. And though it was only for three days I had felt this rush of change in me. This change I still am unable to recognize.      The call had come early morning Wednesday, I had already cleaned the hostel, checked people in and out, eaten breakfast and I was now lounging in bed reading Isabelle Allende's Of Love and Shadows . “Nicooo, telephonooo” Yoli yelled out putting

He'd told her. He'd finally told her.  "I am falling in love with you. And I wish I could find time, more time for you, stuffed in my backpack or underneath the grit of my fingernails, like the change I find in my pockets. I can't keep pretending. Acting like this feeling is non existent. It's been howling out at me for much too long now. I've tried to play cool. To keep calm and brush it off. And then. Those eyes." He'd said "It's those eyes that have brought me here, those eyes that tell me stories for days, those eyes that both mend and break my heart all at once. And I'm standing here now, like a fool with my heart strewn out across the floor before you. Because I don't want to go another day. Another minute, knowing that you're not mine to keep, knowing that I'm keeping this truth from you." ,

  These past few days I've been having this reoccurring dream, this reoccurring nightmare. I'm still unsure which. In the dream, I wake up one morning in San Cristobal and out of nostalgia and stupidity, I book the soonest flight back home. In the dream there is no time frame, I do not take a 15 hour bus ride back to Cancun or spend the day on a flight back to Ontario. I simply decide I want to go home, and at home I am! Of course everyone is happy to see me and I reminisce on the people and places I've met and seen. The dream never seems to drag on. Like most dreams it starts just as quick as it ends. In this dream, I can never remember too much of anything, except for one feeling. A  heavy feeling of heartbreak of regret. Of anxiousness. Is that a word? Ehh, anyhow. I awake to a world unknown. With the covers pulled over my head, for a second, I am unsure of whether reality was really a dream, or dream a reality. I peel back the covers slowly each time and see the oak w

Palenque, Chiapas                     It's been almost a week since I’ve returned to San Cristobal from Palenque. Who knows, maybe even less, I've always been terrible with estimation. Regardless of the actual time, it's felt like years. I've gotten to know the place and the people so quickly and can hardly imagine leaving.   New faces and stories are seen and heard each day by travelers from all around the globe, and each time they head off to further destinations, we are forced to say goodbye and go forward. As hard as one can try to detach themselves you simply cannot help it, you fall in love. Recently I'd celebrated a 22 nd birthday, and being amongst people I hadn't even known a month ago, I expected nothing more than a “Feliz Cumpleaños” if even that, to me it had simply been another day.   Though come nightfall I had been surprised by the entire hostel with an enormous cake, and off key singing of Feliz Cumpleaños . My heart melted as quickly as

    The ride over to Palenque was a cold and nauseating one. A five hour trip that felt more like fifteen. Half way into the trip I felt the need to violently vomit all the floor of the bus, or wherever convenient. I looked around for something to throw up in, or on if needed. As I came to the conclusion that my purse was the best and least embarrassing option, my stomach had settled. "Oh thank you God!" I'd announced a little too loudly. As the grueling bus ride came to an end and I'd gotten off I’d met an Argentinian couple, and split a taxi with them to El Mono Blanco del Panchan (something about a white monkey) a grungy little Hostel conveniently placed in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Literally. We had been dropped off in the middle of the rain forest.   This was definitely not how Ontario Mills Mall had depicted it at Rainforest Café, there were no singing alligators or friendly little monkeys. In fact, the monkeys sounded more like hungry tigers.  Onc

  I've spent six days in Chiapas so far. Yet it feels more like a lifetime.  I've fallen in love with the people, the sites and the place as a whole. There have been many times this week that I have thought of leaving and going off to Palenque, Guatemala or even back to Cancun, and I simply can't bear the thought of leaving San Cristobal, Chiapas. It's taken all of my heart. I am like a hopeless teenager in love. A lump begins to form in my throat even thinking of leaving. The past few days I've spent seeing the city of San Cristobal de las Casas and all it has to offer, dancing terribly to Salsa music with friends, broiling up new things in the kitchen each day, walking through endless miles of markets and just simply seizing the day. Each day seems to linger on longer than the next, and I am simply "conteno" as they put it.  Palenque, Chiapas Yet, I have booked a one way once again. Tomorrow I will be on my way to Palenque. A five hour bus ride aw

Oventik,Chiapas   As I write now, I see the city lights beneath me, and hear songs of love strumming on the guitar beside me. I've fallen in love. And so quickly, I'm almost ashamed.  Mornings are spent walking through markets that go on for days and days, afternoons are spent lounging in the kitchen, sharing stories and laughing with the locals and foreigners alike and our nights, our nights are ours to dance away. To laugh, to sing, and fall in love.     An innocent kind of love. A “can I hold your hand?” kind of love. A love you can't comprehend until you've lived it.  In leaving Cancun, I'd thought I was leaving paradise, but in coming to Chiapas, I've realized I hadn't experienced paradise until just then. True paradise is not; beaches, snorkeling, and beautiful faces. True paradise is finding beauty in a place. Seeing prosperity and poverty, the indigenous and the tourist both dwelling as one. I can hardly put to words why I've fallen so har

I officially landed in Cancun on the 1st. With a major migraine and a bit of nausea to go along with it, in arriving, I simply wanted to fall asleep and die. Instead, I spent the night by the beach with some fellow travelers from the hostel I stayed at. A convenient little hostel right in the middle of everything you need, called Hostel Quetzal.The next morning I was unsure of exactly where I wanted to go, so I'd packed everything up and gone off to   the bus station...ready to take the world, booked a one way to San Cristobal de las Casas and didn't look back. So, here I am at a quiet little café   in San Cristibal de las Casas; the café is comparable to those seen in French films, the chairs are curly and fancy and every few minutes a boy looking to shine shoes walks in. Luckily I'm wearing sandals, or I'd give in. Though the 15 hour bus ride out here was no penny pincher, the town is absolutely dirt cheap and I love it. Hostels are no more than 5 dollars a night

Early this morning It had come to my mind that I had actually bought a ticket to Cancun. Err. Well while last year was all talk; with me ranting on and on about how I was going, packing up my stuff, with money in hand...I had somehow always ended up staying, with a new tattoo or a laptop to fill it's void. This year I've started my own quiet war. Spontaneously buying the ticket, telling absolutely no one until a few days before and still, I have not packed a single thing. This lump of fear rose in my throat while thinking of being out in the big bad world without familiar faces. Mostly without mom to save me. Oh gosh did I just admit that? A recap of my trip in 2009. When I had landed in Cancun the first thing I did was write one of my best friends, crying to her about how much I wanted to be home and how crazy I was thinking I could actually stay there for four weeks! After being in Cancun for a few days I had grown to love the place, the people and everything surrounding. A

  Only five more torturous days until I leave for Mexico. The days seem to be getting longer and longer. Don't get me wrong; this torture isn't family or friend related. It' more of an inner battle. A battle I just haven't been able to win. Day after day I find myself without.... If I go on any further I feel I will have revealed too much now. I'm holding back. Just know that. Is this my quarter life crisis sneaking up on me again?What am I doing and where do I want to go with it? Fink's "This is the thing" is playing in the background and I feel like breaking down. Into a million little pieces.  Right now all I look forward to is waking up to the waves crashing beside me and a warm cup of Pocna's café con leche. Snorkeling beneath Tulum's beautiful waves and soaking up some cancerous Caribbean sun. I can't help but to recall 2009's trip. A four week trip that took me throughout Tulum, Cancun and Isla Mujeres. And in coming home I

                                                                                  As February begins to roll around I pull out a box from the linen closet and dig through last years journal. Last years happenings. One thing that stood out to me most was reading this "I'd rather live in a beautiful dream than a depressing reality." -Self Stop me before I go on. I sounded suicidal, I know. Though I wasn't, I was in a pretty harsh situation, wrong people, wrong way...wrong dream. When first making "Nico's Nonsense" my objective was to make it a Travel Blog...and it's been everything but! Last year around Janurary; like many others I had made resolutions. One which I had promised and swore I would leave the country again and failed to do so, while this year I have promised nothing of the sort and only rest on hopes and dreams. I have this continuous hunger to experience so much more than ordinary, to live life to the marrow, and trod where other

Open the door for me kind of love  I want the stay up until four am on the phone listening to each other breathe kind of love The playing footsies under the table kind of love The "Did he touch my hand on purpose or on accident?" kind of love A can I hold your hand kind of love  The butterflies in my stomach kind of love A let's pray together kind of love The kind of love where you ask to kiss me A meet the parents kind of love And  a "I hope my mom loves him as much as I do" kind of love That kind Where we wait until marriage.  Despite our pasts The old and brittle rocking chair kind of love The Notebook kind of love  An innocent kind of love No storybook kind of love Because this love will never end 

I feel so caught up in a routine I'm uncertain I even want to be in. I'd like to pack up and take the soonest flight out to South America. Live like the hippies do; on peace, love, hopes and dreams. Each day to the next, not worrying about routine or bills to pay. What I want is not a way out, but a way in. A way into a life that is so much simpler than this. One people call "paradise" and relate to myths. I've seen it, been there and felt it. And can't help holding onto this nostalgic feeling every minute of the day I miss it. "You may say I'm a dreamer...but I'm not the only one." There is a whole world of "dreamers" out there we cease to come across, a world of dreamers who have put their dreams to play. As I sit here in nostalgias arm hold I wonder when I'll return, and how many people will scoff, for me doing so.