Further proof of my uncoordinated life
Another series of buses got us to Quetzaltenango, although this 5 syllable mouthful of a town has inexplicably been nicknamed Xela. The moment I arrive I trip over my sandal, now in its death throes, the plastic strap repeatedly pulling out and tripping me up. I all but fall out of the bus, hitting my toe again, cracking the nail for the second time but in another spot. I am bleeding painfully on the street and chris rushes over thinkign I've broken my ankle, because it's one of THOSE type of embarrassing falls that look a lot more dangerous than they really are. My toenail is legitimately fucked up now, and I realize it may take more like a few months rather than a few weeks for this to grow out. This, for some reason, really upsets me. It is generally a superficial injury, but looking down at it makes me feel illogically terrified.
Otherwise I am immediately charmed by Xela, if only because the church on the main square for once looks to be of different architecture, or because there are streets LINED with secondhand shops calling my name. I carefully bandaid up my toe, drop off a load of laundry and Chris and I go exploring. Mostly we're searching for new flip flops, since I don't think my toe can handle anymore trauma. This turns out to be impossible. An entire town, and I couldn't find one acceptable pair of flip flops. I was forced to accept defeat.
The next day we headed to the nearby hotsprings of Fuentes Georginas, my highlight of Xela. It was slightly expensive to get there even with the two of us, but in the end i thought it was worth it. The ride up through the farming countryside was gorgeous, extremely green and fertile looking. The springs themselves were way up top in the semi misty and cold mountains, so sinking into the well manicured hot pools (much better than the grungy pools in banos, ecuador, but still second to the Tabacon wonderland hotsprings in costa rica) was blissfully relaxing. We stayed for hours, my fingers pruning within the first 5 minutes. Then as I got out to grab chris some water I managed to slip uncontrollably in a puddle and somehow land crouched down on one knee. A purple bruise and a bony like protrusion immediately bloom from my left knee, presumably because the hot water somehow gets my blood to the trauma site faster than usual. When i look up sheepishly at Chris I realize he's no longer even surprised by my endless bumps and bruises.
Otherwise I am immediately charmed by Xela, if only because the church on the main square for once looks to be of different architecture, or because there are streets LINED with secondhand shops calling my name. I carefully bandaid up my toe, drop off a load of laundry and Chris and I go exploring. Mostly we're searching for new flip flops, since I don't think my toe can handle anymore trauma. This turns out to be impossible. An entire town, and I couldn't find one acceptable pair of flip flops. I was forced to accept defeat.
The next day we headed to the nearby hotsprings of Fuentes Georginas, my highlight of Xela. It was slightly expensive to get there even with the two of us, but in the end i thought it was worth it. The ride up through the farming countryside was gorgeous, extremely green and fertile looking. The springs themselves were way up top in the semi misty and cold mountains, so sinking into the well manicured hot pools (much better than the grungy pools in banos, ecuador, but still second to the Tabacon wonderland hotsprings in costa rica) was blissfully relaxing. We stayed for hours, my fingers pruning within the first 5 minutes. Then as I got out to grab chris some water I managed to slip uncontrollably in a puddle and somehow land crouched down on one knee. A purple bruise and a bony like protrusion immediately bloom from my left knee, presumably because the hot water somehow gets my blood to the trauma site faster than usual. When i look up sheepishly at Chris I realize he's no longer even surprised by my endless bumps and bruises.
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