Again.
I'm on my way back to Jose and Lau's.
Again.
Why?
The dark bags under my eyes and the thirty mosquito bites on my left shoulder alone should be evidence enough.
I was wondering when my excellent streak of couchsurfing luck would run out. And... well... the fellow I stayed with last night was awfully sweet, but...
...but the fellow I stayed with last night lives in one of the most humid, hot, mosquito infested cities I've visited in my years of travel. And he lives in aforementioned city sans air-conditioning, avec only one wheezing fan in the main room, and no screens for the windows or doors.
This means that the residents and guests of this house have three options.
a) they can perish of heat and humidity.
b) they can perish from loss of blood due to a mind-boggling, torturous amount of mosquito bites.
c) they can perish from some sort of mixture of both the above.
I nervously waited for my new host to meet me in front of Merida's cathedral. He'd told me he'd arrive at 5:30, so I'd lumbered over to the massive religious structure (the first cathedral constructed in the Americas, as a matter of fact) and had plopped down my comparably massive backpack at 5:25.
Because even though I'm in Mexico and understand that people operate according to "Mexican time," I can't quiet down my, "IF YOU'RE NOT FIVE MINUTES EARLY, YOU'RE LATE!" screaming of my German blood.
Which is monstrously inconvenient when living in a country that views time and commitments as... well... more... fluid?
My new host arrived at 6:00, just as I was consoling my sore ass with promises that I would stand up and walk to a cafe within the next five minutes. A cafe wherein I could find internet to contact my host and ask him to better explain what "5:30" meant to him.
He sat down next to me and it became immediately clear that this couchsurfing experience would be significantly less fulfilling than the three previous -- Erin, German and Jose/Lau. This immediate disappointment was due to the fact that the young Mexican hardly spoke any English. Which is interesting timing for an event like this to occur, because as Lau and Jose drove Shirley and me to the bus stop, Lau had asked, "Do you ever stay with anyone who doesn't speak English?"
"No, never," I immediately replied. "For me, couchsurfing is all about actually making connections with hosts. So... I mean, there's nothing at all wrong with the fact that some hosts don't speak English, but I know I won't be able to connect with them very well, so I don't stay with them."
And then I suddenly found myself staying with a super sweet fellow who must have used google translate to write his whole couchsurfing profile.
"Goodness, I'm hungry," I said as we rode the bus from the city center to his house.
"Mungry?" my host looked confused.
"Hungry."
"I don't understand."
"Tango hambre."
"Oh, okay!"
Oof... this is going to be a long six days.
One of the main reasons I chose to stay with this host was because he offered to take me on an adventure to some of Merida's cenotes and said he would be happy to cook with me. But during that awkward bus ride, it was communicated that he didn't have access to a car and that because he had no money, he only hitchhiked to the cenotes. And while I did spend an intense 5 weeks hitchhiking around the Balkans, hitchhiking is the sort of thing I want to be mentally prepared for. It's also something I'm not sure I want to do in Mexico.
He could have at least mentioned that in his invitation.
When we arrived at his sparsely furnished little green home, it felt more like stepping into a little green sauna. I immediately starting pouring sweat out of sweat glands I was surprised to discover I had.
"I don't have... food... in my -- how do you say?" my host opened the fridge door to display a lonely two liters of soda.
"Fridge. I don't have any food in my fridge," I smiled whilst thinking, then how did he expect us to cook together? Does he want me to purchase all the ingredients? "Where do you eat?" I queried.
"My parents... and in the school."
"Gotcha. Well, is there a cheap place close by where I can get some food?"
"Cheap?"
"Not expensive?"
"Oh, okay."
"What do you usually eat for dinner?"
"Usually?"
"Yes. What do you eat for dinner?"
"Oh, only small. Maybe a banana. Breakfast with parents, lunch in school, banana for dinner."
"Well, I don't want something little. I'm actually really hungry."
"Actually?"
"I'm hungry. I don't want something little."
"Little?"
"I need a big dinner," I kept smiling. Sometimes the curt sentences I have to use for people who are learning English make me sound like an ass, but I'm really just trying to make myself more easily understood.
Oof.
So we walked to a nearby tienda (shop) that sold chips and bananas and beans and things like that. My host picked up a bag of refried beans.
"You like?"
"Not by themselves, no. Thanks, though." I bought two bananas and headed out of the shop.
"Only bananas?" my host looked surprised. Which was strange to me, as he had just mentioned ten minutes ago that his entire dinner usually consisted of a single banana.
"Well, can we look for something else? Maybe tacos? Quesadillas? Something not expensive?"
"Okay."
"Do you mind walking with me?" I didn't want to drag my host all over Merida in search of cheap food.
"Mind?"
"Are you happy to walk with me?"
"Yes, walking is... healthy?"
"Yup. Want a banana?" I handed him one of my two bananas and began to hungrily demolish the other.
After another few minutes of stilted conversation and disappointment at the sight of several closed restaurants, my grumbling belly rejoiced at the sight of an old lady selling tamales.
"TAMALES!" I shouted triumphantly and sprinted across the road towards the tamale lady.
"Only one?" my host looked disappointed.
"I don't think I could eat two. They're so big!" I exclaimed over the enormous tamales.
Does he want me to buy a tamale for him? Is that why he's disappointed? Goodness, I'm getting such a weird vibe from this guy...
We returned to his sauna and the awkwardness between us quickly became nearly as intense as the heat.
Do I ask a question? If I ask a question, the conversation will just be about the question. And explaining all the words I used in that question. Girl, you NEED to learn another language for situations like these.
Here's what I've learned about teaching English during the last few years of traveling as a yoga teacher and an English teacher:
If you have a good understanding of the English language (or any language, for that matter) and want to work on conversation, then practice your English with someone who only speaks English. If you don't have a good understanding of the English language, then choose someone who speaks both English and your language to practice with -- else it will be immensely frustrating for all parties involved. Both Lau and German wanted to work on their English, but both Lau and German have a solid grasp of the English language, so speaking with them was always a pleasure. But when both parties devolve into frustrated, "ach...google traductor..." then you know it's not the optimum situation for learning.
I would never have chosen to stay here had I known he didn't speak English... this is just not what I want from couchsurfing.
I couldn't stop sweating. And I couldn't get comfortable due to the swarm of mosquitoes buzzing and humming obnoxiously about my person.
How does he SURVIVE? How is there any blood (or any fluid at all, for that matter) left in this fellow?
My host headed out to the gym a few minutes later, and I sunk back into the red couch (covered in a crunchy layer of protective plastic) and longed for Jose and Lau and their lovely little home.
So I wrote them about my sweaty, itchy, awkward predicament and they immediately offered to take me back. Like the amazingly generous people they are.
Part of me felt like I'd betrayed the spirit of couchsurfing by sending the message. I mean, such a huge aspect of couchsurfing is gratitude -- simply being grateful for whatever you're offered -- no matter how extravagant or how meager the offering is.
I'll see how I sleep tonight. If I can't sleep at all, then I'll go back to stay with Jose and Lau. Because even the spirit of couchsurfing isn't worth 6 nights of sweaty insomnia.
I didn't sleep. I tossed and turned in the hammock all night long. My feet went numb because I couldn't get the angle quite right, my body was soaked with sweat (my host had turned the fan down, warning me that it got "cold" at four in the morning), and I could hear the swarms of mosquitoes eating me alive.
"I'm heading out to town," I told my host at 7:30 am.
"Heading?" he rubbed his startled eyes.
"I'm going to town," I clarified.
"Now?"
"Yes, this is the best time of day. The time before it gets too hot."
So I hopped on the bus to the city center, ate a quick breakfast of tacos, and escaped the already suffocating heat by slipping into a hole-in-the-wall cafe. Where I whiled away the hours, Skyping Boy and feeling guilty about wanting to leave my host's sparsely furnished little green sauna.
During our Skype date, we also talked about the Colorado Trail -- that 468 mile hike I'd hoped to explore during the months of August and September. However, the Skype date with my father the night before had... err... dampened my spirits a little bit. Due to the general dampness of Colorado, at the moment.
"You might want to think about the weather before you start hiking," my father advised. "It's been raining here almost every day," he broke the news to me. "And it was the same last year -- we had a really hot June, and starting in July, it rained all the way to the end of August."
"Whoa. Well, a month or two of hiking in rain sounds much more like an ordeal than an adventure..."
"A day or two of rain here and there is fine," my dad agreed, "but every day?"
That's how it will be in England, Wales and Scotland, for sure... but not in Colorado. The Colorado trail would be hard enough without having to spend the whole thing feeling dismally damp.
So I talked it all over with Boy and we decided to just spend August doing three to four-day weekend adventures. Hiking Colorado's fourteeners and camping in Moab and exploring Yellowstone. Venturing out into Colorado (and the surrounding states) in more doable chunks wherein we have the ability to throw in the (wet) towel and return to a warm bed as soon as we need.
Boy and I are also in a place where we're just kind of done with the distance thing. We'd like to have a few adventures together for once, please and thank-you very much.
So to all the lovely ladies and gentlemen who've mentioned that you might like to hike a bit of the trail with me: I'm sorry if this change of plans so late in the game lets you down... but this is me learning how to listen to life (and the weather) and being more open to plans changing.
Also, you're still invited to hike all the 14ers with us that you want.
Boy and I discussed tactful ways I could leave my host.
"He's gone all day, so I have to send him a message about my change of plans over couchsurfing. I'll just tell him that the friend I met in Paris wants to meet me in Tulum... so I decided to spend the last few days of my trip there. That way there's nothing personal about it. But... oof... I hate lying."
But then I felt the 30 mosquito bites on my left shoulder.
And I lied.
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