Hitchhiking To Guatamala Part 13

The plot thickens, two new characters enter the story, and they're cute Germans

Sleeping indoors meant we managed to stay asleep a bit later than sunrise. When I opened my eyes the room was brightly lit. I blinked in the unexpected brightness and then looked at my watch. Mickey Mouse’s hands were both pointing at the 7. 7:35 am was the latest we’d slept in in over a week. I heard Windy get up from the bed. “Good morning.” I said from my hammock, still facing the ceiling.

“Good morning. How’re you feeling?” 

“Oh, um… I feel fine, I think. Let’s see if that’s the case after I try standing up, but so far so good.”

“Me too. This is really weird. We really tied one on.”

“Yeah we did. We got rambling chatty drunk.”

Later, as we drank mugs of instant coffee in the hotel lobby I asked Windy, “Did I really call that teacher a bitch?”

“Yeah you did. Man, I’ve never seen you like that. You were furious. Sorry if it felt like I was calling you out. That was clumsy. I was drunk.”

“Oh, no, I mean yeah, it did but I’m glad. Memory is funny. I’m just amazed we recollected it so differently mere minutes after it happened.” Two women seated nearby were laughing, and it became increasingly clear they were laughing at us.

“Excuse me, is something amusing?” Windy asked.

“Yes. Yes, your backpacks. They are stupid.” a pretty girl with a square jaw and long blond hair said in a heavy German accent. They laughed some more. 

I was quite proud of my backpack. I bought it used off a friend who’d backpacked all over Europe with it. She sold it to me for $50. I felt I’d gotten a great deal. “Um, what is wrong with our backpacks?” I asked. 

“I’m sorry. We don’t mean to be rude.” the other woman answered. “You look our age but your packs look like they are from the eighties.” She had a slight sunburn on her cheeks and forehead and her medium length brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail with her sunglasses perched on top of her head. Both girls dressed like backpackers from an REI catalog. “And why do you have them with you at the table? Are you afraid someone will steal them?” she asked, triggering more laughs.

“And where should we have them? Where are your sleek modern nineties backpacks?” Windy asked with a smile. His initial combativeness giving way to flirtation. 

“Out front on the backpacks shelf.” the blonde haired woman answered. Of the two, she spoke English more cautiously with a heavier accent though they were both fluent. 

“There’s a backpack shelf?” I asked, now feeling a little foolish.

“We’ve been really careful to keep them with us. You see, we really love our cool retro eighties backpacks. I’m Windy, and my friend is Loyal.” 

“I am sorry. I don't understand. You are windy and your friend is loyal? What does this mean?” the brunette asked.

“That’s our names.” Windy answered. Once again they both laughed. “Are our names as funny as our backpacks?”

“No, we just have not heard these names before. These are common American names?”

“No. Not at all. But they are our names. And yes, we were born with them. Our parents gave us these names.” 

“They were hippy parents?” the blonde woman asked, emphasizing the word hippy as if it were new to her. 

Now we laughed, and moved our packs off the extra seats at our table inviting them to sit with us. “No, my parents weren’t hippies. I’m named after my dad. His name is Wendy but he’s from Texas so he pronounced it Windy.” 

“What?” I asked. I had never heard this before. “You’re named after the way your dad pronounces his name?” 

“Yeah, I guess. He wanted to name his son after him but he also hated growing up with the name Wendy, so he named me Windy and everyone does call him Windy.”

“I have four older brothers. My parents were out of normal names by the time they got to me. What are your names?”

“I am Lo.” the sun burnt brunette answered.

“And I am Anna.” her blonde haired friend answered.

“Lo? Your name is Lo?” Windy asked.

“Yes, my name is Lo. It is a common nickname in Germany. My proper name is Delores.” she snapped, playfully defensive.

“Lo, Anna, it’s a pleasure to meet you. How long have you been in Mexico?” I asked

“We have been here for one week, in Cancun and we have seen many ruins.” Anna answered, sounding like she was asking a question in that way of people who are not completely sure of their English.

We ordered more instant coffee and discussed ruins. They warned us that Cancun was in full party mode with Spring Break in high gear. They were charming and smart and it was delightful to sit and talk with them. Windy asked if they knew about the market and invited them to join us. The four of us set off.

“So these are the latest in backpack technology?” Windy asked as they picked their packs up by the shelf near the door to the hotel lobby.

“Yes.” Lo answered. “They are very comfortable. The frame is inside the pack, you see. You have this ridiculous frame outside. I don’t understand. And the weight is distributed nicely. I think that my back would hurt very much if I had to hike with your pack.”

We tried on their packs and had to admit they were considerably more comfortable. “I like the look of my old eighties pack. It reminds me of An American Werewolf in London.” I told them.

“I know this movie! Oh, this is a great movie.” Anna said. “Remember, Lo, with Paul we watched this.”

“I remember this terrible movie. This is what you want from a Holiday? To become a monster?” 

“Yes. Absolutely.” 

We pulled out our day packs and asked the Hotel concierge to hang on to our packs for us. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but he seemed to handle my and Windy’s packs with a judgemental attitude bordering on disgust. “I really had no idea our packs were so outdated.” I said as we made our way to the market.

The market in Merida was an ADHD nightmare. Outdoor booths, tables and permanent shops blended together. Food venders, bootleg t-shirts, jeans, toys, technology and local crafts all competed for our attention. Despite my promise to Windy I’d not calculated my money and there were items I knew we had to purchase now while we had the chance.

We stopped at a rack of Mexican dress shirts. I’d notice men wearing these shirts with four pockets, and twin columns of pleats running down the front. “This is the guayabera.” the vender informed us. “They are made here in Merida and are sold all over Mexico. This is a Sunday shirt.”

“You wear these shirts on Sunday?” I asked. 

“Yes. You can wear these shirts everyday, but always wear a guayabera on Sunday.”

“Windy, dude, it’s Sunday and we’re not wearing guayaberas? This is more embarrassing than the backpacks.” I said. 

“Listen to your amigo. I think you need a Sunday shirt.”

We bought a couple of shirts each. I got one in a peach color and a soft yellow one which I put on over my t-shirt. Windy got a black guayabera with colorful embroidery and a white one which he put on. “I am going to wear this shirt every Sunday from now on.” 

“I am glad we finally don’t look like tourists.” I added, bringing a fresh round of laughs from Lo and Anna. “You two sure do find us funny.” I said. 

We met a woman who explained that her village made hammocks and she walked every week many miles to the market to sell them. They were beautiful brightly colored hammocks. Windy and I had grown very fond of sleeping in hammocks during this trip. In the heat they were a great way to stay cool. “A bed is like having a jacket on half your body, holding the heat in.” I had observed earlier in our trip.

“Dude, these are easily three times this much back in the US.” Windy said, looking at the hammocks. “My only concern is trying to fit them in our packs.”

“We’ve got the bus ride back to Cancun and then home. I think our heaviest hiking is behind us.” We each bought a hammock. “Dude, I can’t wait to put on my Sunday shirt and take a siesta in my hammock when we get home.”

“With a nice mug of instant coffee?” Windy teased. 

We ate from street vendors, potato tacos and fresh fruit, and we drank cold beers out of scratched bottles as the day grew hot around us. Lo and Anna were great company and it was one of the most pleasant days I’d ever experienced.

“Did you say you are going back to Cancun?” Lo asked.

“Yeah, we’re getting a bus tonight. We made really good time getting back up this way so I guess we’ll spend a couple days in Cancun.”

“We need to go back to Cancun to catch a boat to Cuba. Why don’t we go back together? We can share a room. It's much cheaper.”

“The problem with that is we’re going to stop in Chichén-Itzá along the way.” I said.

“We don’t have to.” said Windy. “You’ve seen one ruins you’ve seen them all, yeah?”

“What?” I snapped.

“We also want to go to Chichén-Itzá.” Lo said. “I think we travel very well together.”

This was a very appealing idea but it made me nervous. “I feel like now is the time when I should say that I have a girlfriend waiting for me at home.” I said.

“Ah, Loyal. Is this where you get this name? Relax, we’re not trying to have a love affair. We will sleep in one bed, and you boys can sleep in the other.”

Windy fixed me a look that pleaded with me not to sour this day that had so far been so very enjoyable. “Yeah, that’s fine, I just felt like it’d be weird of me not to mention it, you know?”

“We know.” said Anna with a teasing smile. “You are a good boyfriend.”

“And you? Do you have a girlfriend at home?” Lo asked Windy.

“I do not have a girlfriend.” Windy stated emphatically.

“Okay, then we will just have to share you.” Windy’s eyes got huge as Lo and Anna laughed loudly.

“I believe we have broken his brain. I am only making a joke, lover boy.” 

“Oh my god, is that pork rinds!” Windy said as a man walked by us carrying a sheet of crispy fried pig skin the size of a blanket. The three of them had a small cardboard basket each of pork rinds with hot sauce. I kept my opinion that it was disgusting to myself, as I ate more spicy peanut mix out of my day pack.

“Frog and Toad!” I said excitedly as I spotted a wrack of t-shirts with children’s book characters. “It’s even a ring T.” I picked up a t-shirt with a glossy image of Frog and Toad on the front, and a ring of green around the neck and sleeves. I managed to talk to the vendor enough to purchase the shirt and I was proud of how much my Spanish had improved on this trip.

“You are very excited about these frogs?” Anna asked.

“Frog and Toad. Don’t you have Frog and Toad in Germany?”

“I don’t think we have this. It is a cartoon?”

“We have Frog and Toad, Frosch und Kröte.” Lo interjected. “This is a book for children.” 

“This is a book for everyone. They’re such perfect little stories, like koans.” I said.

“I don’t think I know this word, Koans.” Lo said, and Anna shook her head to suggest that she also did not follow.

“A koan is buddhist story, like a zen story, and they’re simple and they have a message but its usually not a heavy handed moral like western fables, just a simple example to look at and learn something from, to meditate on, like Frog and Toad.”

“And these koans, they are for the children?” Anna asked.

“Yes.” Windy said.

“No.” I said. “I mean sometimes they’re marketed at kids but so is a lot of wonderful art and writing. Maurice Sendak for example,and really cartoons and comics in general. Why is it that adults are supposed to not have pictures and words together? It’s one or the other. It's very mature to collect paintings and books but graphic novels, no, that’s kids stuff.” I felt myself getting excited and reigned in the desire to tell them everything I knew and felt and thought about simple stories, comics, fairy tales, and children’s literature. “Do you know The Katzenjammer Kids?”

They both shook their heads, no. Ah well. Maybe someday you will visit us in the US and I’ll get you some comic books and koans to read.

“And your girlfriend, she will like this visit from the German girls you met in Mexico?” Anna asked.

“Yes. I think she would be delighted to meet you. She knows I behave myself.”

“Yes, you are Loyal.”

“Yes. I am Loyal.”

We retrieved our backpacks from the hotel and made our way to the bus depot.

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