Rocking that *International* Paradise

I had a lot to celebrate last weekend.  First of all, there was the 11km trail race that I won a little over a week ago.  (Yes, won.  At least the women’s category.  It’s the first time I’ve ever come in first place in a race, and I did not expect it in the least).  Second was the fact that as of Friday, April 24 th , 100% of my requirements are complete for my master’s degree in International Education.  Approaching the finish line Celebrating my masters degree with a massive turkey leg. Both of those things are worth a celebration. So, to celebrate (and to relax after an intensive 2 week master’s course), Richard and I took off for a weekend at Lake Atitlan.  The weekend was exactly what I was hoping for: a perfect balance between adventure and total relaxation.  On Saturday, we took our time packing (because if you know me at all, you know I always leave packing for the last minute) and leaving the city, arriving at our hotel in Lake Atitlan around 3:30pm

Some adventures are easier to write about than others.  Some have their own stories, and rather than telling about what we did on the adventure, I tell the story.  Some posts practially write themselves. And then sometimes, you just have an absolutely amazing experience...and it's just too much and too many stories to fit into one post.  This year's spring break was like that.  For six days, I lived in the moment and had the best time of my life.  And now I'm left with too many memories, too many stories, too many breathtaking snapshots, and I'm having a hard time deciding how to get it into a blog post.   I decided (or maybe, my inability to write decided for me)  to wait a few days (or a week or two) before beginning to write about spring break.  My hope is that what I'll be left with in my memory is simply the best stories, simply the things worth telling about.  That is my hope.   Amy, Rachel, and I had dreamed about this trek for a really long time.

Sometimes the most unfortunate events make for the most entertaining stories.  As Amy and I went for a trail run last Monday morning, enjoying our first true day off of semana santa, we were passing by the farm, and as usual the family and their animals were out.  All of a sudden two dogs turned towards us, barking and growling.  I jumped away from them and kept walking, which is not much in the way of defense, but is always my instinct with mean dogs.  I looked over at the owner who was standing nearby, and thought maybe we were in the clear, but they had focused their attention on Amy instead.   Behind me, I heard her swear and say, “It bit me!  Ow—again!”  Finally the farmer stepped in, throwing a broom in the direction of the dogs and sending them scattering.  Amy and I took off running up the trail and didn’t stop to check her wounds until we were out of sight.  The bite on her leg had broken skin, so on the advice of four different people, we went to the ER later in th