Getting away from it all right here...

I realize I've been back from Central America for over a week now and have yet to write a blog about it. I will! I promise! I finally got around to unpacking and putting everything away yesterday, so that's a step in the right direction, yes? But first-- you get a completely different reading experience.


Leo and I love to travel. No secret there. It really is one of our favorite things to do together. Especially with school and work and the countless other things we're juggling on a daily basis around here, it's so nice just to drop it all, find a place we haven't been yet, and go! So, being the type of person I am, I started planning back in JANUARY and trying to come up with different possible summer travel scenarios for this year. And it's been one obstacle after another.

Our schedules are ridiculous. There's no other word for it. Mine's a little better than his, but when added together, there's zero wiggle room. Since January, I've scribbled little notes to myself of important dates: when each of our classes start and stop, Leo's teaching schedule, Leo's summer camp teaching schedule, his coaching schedule, my work schedule... These dates were then projected onto several color-coded spreadsheets, and analyzed time and time again to try to find a loophole. (Don't judge me.) One did not exist. We originally thought of flying up to the Midwest and making our way through South Dakota and into Montana and Wyoming- visiting Mount Rushmore, the Badlands and Yellowstone along the way. Definitely no time for that. So then we thought about heading up to Portland/Seattle and setting sail on an Alaskan cruise from there. Nope. And then maybe a trip to Hawaii? Again- no. (Notice how the days necessary for each trip are shrinking...) I held out hope that we could find at least four days together and we could do Vegas or Miami. But that idea also crumbled.

I realize this may sound strange seeing as I just got back from an amazing trip to Central America and had a fabulous time (to be chronicled later). But traveling WITH Leo is much different. The idea is to get away together.

It was about this time last month that I finally came to the conclusion that we would not be leaving Dallas as a twosome this summer. The spreadsheets were erased from my computer's memory in a fit of crankiness and I reenacted this scene from Anchorman a few times:

HOWEVER, we did come up with a Plan F. As of 4pm this afternoon, we will be checking into the beautiful Magnolia Hotel in downtown Dallas and enjoying an entire weekend of absolutely nothing.

We may walk around the West End or go to the Botanical Gardens or get some pampering at a spa... but nothing is officially planned. It is also very likely we could stay in and eat room service and watch soccer all weekend! I guess we'll see. Although made-up words like "staycation" make me cringe, I've been told that's exactly what we're doing. Tourists in our own city!

Guatemalan Stitches

I dream of one day writing a book. Haven't quite settled on a title yet, but I'm thinking something along the lines of "The Wandering Klutz" or "A Roaming Klutz" or something incorporating "Crazy Aunt Llaura..." We'll see.

It will include the many (often entertaining) mishaps that have happened to me over the years while traveling. There have been more than a few "sticky situations"- both good and bad- that simply must be shared with the general public. But unfortunately, there are hurdles involved: 1) getting published is hard. (I've researched this and know it to be true.) and 2) I lack the free time to chain myself to a publisher's desk and demand a writing deal. So I've hatched a plan. I'll start posting stories here on the blog, and a big and powerful publisher will catch wind of them one day and BEG me to write an entire book. I figure I can't fail.

So to start things off, I give you--

Guatemalan Stitches.

*Disclaimer: Awesome, but somewhat graphic, photos below. Read at your own risk.

In 2006, I went on my first international medical mission trip to Guatemala. I traveled with an organization called HELPS International, and we set up a clinic in the (extremely) rural village of Uspantan for a week. It was an absolutely amazing time that cemented my passion for both humanitarian aid and travel. After finishing up our clinical duties, the team members got to spend 3 days in the enchanting city of Antigua. (One of my favorite little cities EVER.) We were put up in a beautiful hotel, with a pool and comfy beds and little towel creatures made for us every day... and from Antigua we were able to enjoy day trips to some of Guatemala's coolest offerings.

I liked it so much the first time around that I elected to return to Guatemala with the same team in 2007. And in Antigua, during those rest & relaxation days, is where this story begins.
I had chosen to partake in a trip to the beautiful Volcano de Pacaya. It's an active volcano that people can hike up and watch the flowing lava and enjoy the amazing scenery of Guatemala.

With our faithful guide along for the journey, we started to climb very early in the morning. The clouds were still hanging low and it was so fun to hike through them as we headed upward.

Now, I'm not sure if you've ever seen hardened lava, but it's pretty impressive. It's incredibly sharp and jagged, and as we got closer to the top, it was important to pay attention to your step because one false move would cause your shoe would melt. There were pockets of fresh lava everywhere, and we were instructed to step ONLY where our guide was stepping. Definitely no handrails or anything of the kind in sight. As we climbed, a few friends (who knew my gravitationally challenged history) were teasing me to pay extra close attention and not trip. And I was doing great! Only stepping where I should, no shenanigans of any kind, just steadily hiking and trying to focus.

As we got closer to the top, someone in our group shouted "Look! The lava flow!" and we all looked up. Sure enough, we were close enough to see the river of fresh, molten lava flowing about 30 feet from where we were standing.

And apparently in my excitement... I lost my footing. Suddenly, I fell forward, landing hard on my right knee on the extremely sharp hardened lava below. I remember not saying a word as everyone else reacted- I was stunned. The pain in my knee was excruciating. I stood up and looked down just in time to see the blood come gushing out of the leg of my capris, and head straight down to my sock and into my shoe. All I could get out was: "I'm going to throw up." It wasn't the blood, it was the pain! The urologist of the group (yes, I see the joke here) came to my rescue and used the bandana from his head as a tourniquet around my leg. They did their best to mop up the blood and get me semi-decent for the climb back down. As we were stuck on the top of a VOLCANO, I had no choice but to hobble back down on my wounded extremity.

Just before attempting to stand up for the first time, I remember hearing "Laura, smile!" and looking up for someone to take this beauty of a picture:

By that point, the bandana was saturated, and I ended up with a white tank top tied around my knee. No clue who donated that to the first aid effort... I somehow scrounged up two walking sticks from other members of the group and used them as crutches to get back to the bottom, hobbling and cringing the whole way.

I bent down and grabbed 2 lava rocks, which still sit on a shelf in our dining room to this day, and left a message to future volcano climbers:

The guide had a horse waiting for me as we got back to softer ground, and though it was nice not to walk anymore, that stupid horse did manage to run my newly injured leg into a few fences on the way to the parking lot... It was lucky I had temporarily lost the ability to kick it.

We got back to the hotel, and word quickly spread among the group that Laura had managed to injure herself on what should've been a perfectly serene and accident-free day in Guatemala. Luckily, I was with a MEDICAL team and had an excellent general surgeon who could piece me back together. We turned the hotel room into a mini OR and got to work. The cut was still full of lava bits (and God knows what else) and was definitely in need of a good debridement and some stitches.

Don't worry- it was a new toothbrush.

Bag of saline with a hole in it, and a flashlight- worked like a charm!

The doc managed to get it cleaned out and put back together nicely. Six stitches later, I was good as new! We used an eye patch for a post-op bandage and I paid my faithful surgeon with a Twix bar.

It was then he exited the scene, as he wanted nothing to do with the "disposal" of the bloody rags and towels that were left behind. The cleaning staff would surely think there had been a murder. So to avoid the backlash from a murder investigation, a friend and I snuck to the pool area late that night and tossed all the bloody evidence into a poolside trashcan. We figured by the time they found them, we'd be long gone. Sadly, the pants I had been wearing ended up in the same trashcan. The lava had cut straight through them and with the blood and everything, it was a lost cause. I think that was the most traumatic part for me. I loved those pants! 

My stitches were taken out a couple weeks later and all that remained was a lovely V-shaped scar on my right knee. It fits in nicely with all the scars that came before and after... and though it's faded over the years, it always makes me smile and remember that trip to Guatemala.

730 Days.

As of today, it has officially been two years since I left Botswana. Two years since I kissed my fiance goodbye, boarded a bus, and cried all the way to Johannesburg. So very, very happy we're on the same continent now-- but missing Botswana.