Rocking that *International* Paradise

Last week, I spent my Thanksgiving vacation in Mexico.  I met my friend Amy in Puerto Vallarta, and from there we took a bus to the small coastal town of Sayulita, where we stayed for our first three nights.  Our first night in Sayulita, Amy and I were in a restaurant where live music played and the dance floor was filled with locals and tourists whirling about in an impressive salsa dancing display.  We sat back and watched the dancers, and as we did, a woman came up to Amy and asked if she had a pen that she could borrow, “maybe forever.”  She explained that she was a travel journalist, and her own pen had broken (she held up an ink-stained palm) and told Amy she needed the pen to be able to do her job.   Amy gave the girl her pen, and we watched her move across the room, post up along the opposite wall, and begin to take notes on what she saw there.   Amy and I began chatting about what an amazing job travel journalism must be. And that chance meeting inspired me to wri

Last Sunday morning, I woke up to the sound of soft rain on the roof.  A never-ending drizzle had started the afternoon before and never really stopped in Guatemala City.  My thoughts toward the rain were not pleasant. It was the morning of the Pacaya 10km race, which is one of my favorites each year.  The trail is difficult, but not impossible, and the views the entire race are breathtaking.  I had run it the past two years, with a slightly better time my second year than my first.  Though I hadn’t explicitly trained for this year’s 10K, I knew I was in pretty good shape and thought I had a chance at finishing well.   But… rain .   There was already a facebook message thread between some of the people going with me to the race.  Two had decided not to chance the rain and mud, and a few of the others were waffling.  Resolutely, I added that unless I heard the race was cancelled or postponed, I planned to drive there and make a game-time decision about whether it was worth