Joneneer

The Journey to El Mirador 

was blinding as we waited for another volunteer, Dan. Off in the distance, I could
see part of the jungle in the horizon. Finally, a blonde, curly haired, lanky guy with
sunglasses came riding in on a mountain bike.

“What’s up guys!” Dan said, in a laid back California accent.

“Not much. Just waiting for you.” Replied John.

I reassembled my gear, and Dan took a glance at my bike.

“Come a long way huh?” He asked.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

He straddled his bike and gave us a look over. “You guys are ready for the big
expedition huh? And you decided to join with these guys?”

“Yup. It sounded like fun.” I replied.

“I’ll bet. Well, grab your gear.”

We followed Dan back to his place in Flores. It was an apartment building built
far off the main road. It was a bright pink edifice, three stories tall, and it stood out
like a tower among storied, mud brick, adobe shacks.

We hiked up the stairs to the third floor, and entered a modern, fully furnished
room. The beige tile kept the floor cool, and I sat down on a bean bag as we
unloaded our things.

“OK guys, dump your shit here.” Said Dan as he poured some water in several
ceramic cups. He handed me a cup, as I asked, “how long have you been in the
Peace Corps?”

He took a sip, “three years, My first two years was in Mali, Africa.”

“Three? How was Mali?”

“Gorgeous. Lots of desert.”

“Good experience?”

“Yup.” He took another long sip.

“Hey guys, let’s go visit Linda, she’s in the downstairs apartment.” Said John.

We entered Linda’s quarters. She sat in her kitchen, and worked on her laptop.
A case full of books was on the wall, and the room was decorated with a minimum
of necessities. Linda, a New Yorker, was a white, professional, woman in her
thirties, with short cropped blond hair.

“Can I check my email real quick?” Asked John.

“Sure.”

Linda looked me over, and asked, “you’re new. Did you just arrive with the
other new volunteers?”

“Oh no, I’m not Peace Corps. I’m just a vagrant traveler.”