Category: Adventure

My apologies for delay between meaty posts. Much has transpired, and only so many words can be written in a day.

But let’s test that theory…

I needed to finish a piece I wanted to whore out to a few random websites that might be beneficial to generating a little awareness to the BonerFruit fun. Guest blogging is probably a necessity I’ll need to explore to gain traction for my ridiculous insights into this game we call life, but until my newest writings get rejected by pretentious ass-wipes who hate the use of words like jerk-off or motherfucker in their mainstream popularity, the essays will exist in limbo, conforming to their required parameters of unpublished, unique ideas.

Continue reading El Mirador, Volume 1

This is kinda weird.

I spent most of the day writing, but realized a break was in order to glean some perspective into a reality that doesn’t involve the ridiculous book ideas being pumped from my brain.

So what am I doing?

Writing this.

A break from writing to write more… yeah, weird…

I was unsure of how to play out this day when the sun rose, but I headed to the lagoon to put some pen to paper, or more accurately, fingertip to laptop. The sky was magnificently blue, with nary a chem-trail in sight (it warms the heart to see real clouds again), and I spent several hours toying with new ideas and doing much needed proof-reading.

My food supplies have run low, but my body wasn’t crying out in any desperate famished state, though I knew an amble back to Poptun would be necessary before long. As I debated cave tours, hikes, or lounging lazily in the sun as possible options to fill my day, I decided to head back to my room and give a shout out to the Universe for an effective suggestion to maximize my time.

Continue reading A Sticky Situation…

I originally decided to make a stop in Poptun because I wanted to find some Mayan ruins off the beaten path. I found a website that mentioned Machaquila, “a small Guatemalan village several kilometres from a ruined city of the Mayan civilization bearing the same name,” which is walkable from Poptun.

Perfect.

I took a bus to Poptun and grabbed a room to unload my stuff, get my bearings, and make some archeological adventure plans. Turned out the “several” kilometres mentioned in my piss-poor research would have been more accurately described as “many, many dozens.” Unless I rented a vehicle of some kind, I wouldn’t be playing Indiana Jones on this leg of the tour.

Continue reading I Finca Might Be On to Something…

Humans are an interesting breed. On the adventure thus far, from Belize City, to Caye Caulker, Flores, Rio Dulce, Livingston, and now Poptun, I’ve come across much diversity, yet so much similarity.

Each area I travel into unfailingly reveals new bits of insight, not only into the nature of a world that is becoming more closely connected every waking second through technological advancement, but also into my own egoic fears and prejudices.

Here in Guatemala, I’ve encountered people who greet me warmly, and people who look at me like Hitler walking into a synagogue. There are those who are empathetic of my minimal communication skillset, and others who ignore my attempts at discourse like fungus under their toenails. Some who make eye-contact, but many more who stare vacuously into space, fixated upon whatever important agenda might currently be guiding their actions.

Continue reading Poptun Goes the Weasel…

There’s something about stepping into a body of warm, salty water that makes a day worth living for.

Though this Caribbean-side beach is little more than a narrow strip fronting the occasional “hotel,” abandoned property, or humble homestead, I take immense pleasure from having walked its 6 km stretch to a miniature waterfall-pond that marked the end of its briny trail.

There doesn’t seem to be a lot of swimming done here by the locals. Actually, none that I’ve seen. But that’s a common product of taking environment for granted, no matter where you are in the world. It’s easy to formulate the thought, “Fuck, if I lived here, I’d be in the water everyday.” But I’m just a visitor, and if I grew up here, I’d probably be just as apathetic of this glorious gift as anyone else trying to scratch a living in town.

Continue reading Gandalf’s a Hack…

Go figure. Just as I eased into a comfort zone, the Man decided to stick it to me for laughs.

My bank cards don’t work here, and that’s fine, since I brought the amount of cash with me I wanted to spend, but I had no suspicion the local banking system would become a potential achilles heel.

Continue reading Tales of a Naive Exchange Student…

Dear Diary,

I’ve lost track of time. I don’t know what day it is, and I don’t really care. What I need to do right now is get the fuck away from this mess.

Living on the water feels more right to me than anything I can imagine, but I can’t do it with these retards. The “captain” doesn’t have much inclination to sail his own boat, let alone impart expertise on others. He seems more concerned with ramming every available inch of space with Workaway volunteers to fund his supply of food and broken parts. His “suggestion” to contribute a few bucks daily turned out to be more of a rule. When I realized I ate a third of what everyone else was eating at mealtime, with no say in the offerings, I decided it might be time to make a move before the shore slipped away.

Continue reading Still Rollin’…