The flowers aren’t the only thing that provide color in Antigua, Guatemala,
the houses remind you of a painter’s palette. © Scott Kafer

Finding the Color Wherever You Are

Only yesterday, I had returned from Guatemala, surrounded by people, colors, smells, and noise—music, cars, crowds, conversation. Now here I was back in Pacific Grove, CA, known as “America’s last hometown,” waking to the low hum of my refrigerator. Looking around, my once beloved apartment seemed silent, cold, desolate.

I felt as if someone had pulled the plug on me—where was everyone?  They had gone and left me with the post-vacation blues.

A Sense-sational Trip

Traveling—when done right—hits all your senses.  My trip began in the streets of Antigua, a colonial town and UNESCO World Heritage Site, where old cobblestone streets crawl past colorful facades.

I continued to noisy Guatemala City where a walk through the crowded Mercado Central captivated my senses. The sharp smell of fresh fruit. The pots of simmering meat. The sound and smell and taste of the sizzling tortillas on the griddle.

Moronga (blood sausage) taco
at the Mercado Central in Guatemala City
© Sally Baho

I thought back to the two old ladies who insisted on feeding the gringa (me) some of the moronga (blood sausage) taco they were eating . . . with their bare hands.

I relived my flight north from Guatemala City to Flores and how the vista of the Isla de Flores in Lake Petén Itzá opened my eyes wide to new wonders.

Isla de Flores, Guatemala, where the water is as inviting as the view!
© Rafael Amado Deras

The memory of all these sensory experiences, however, only heightened my sense of sadness.

New Friends in New Places

I missed the new friends I had made, too. And I missed how easy it feels when I’m traveling to make new friends.

Only three days ago, I had shared a canoe ride with a lady I had just met. We drank a cold beer as we leisurely rowed away from the vibrant Isla de Flores. I was on vacation: no watch, no alarm clock, no email, no desk, just me and my whims.

I met Ilse on the street. We were both looking to rent a canoe which happened to be only for two people, and we were both alone.

“OK, quiero ponerme el traje de baño,” (OK, I have to change into my bathing suit) I said, as we coordinated payment and logistics.

“Y yo voy a comprar la cerveza,” (And I’ll go buy the beer), she answered.

Where can this canoe take you?
© frankdennerlein / Thinkstock

Ten minutes later,  we were walking along the shore of the tiny island to a jerry-rigged “dock”—a few rusty canoes chained to a rotting post.  Balancing oars, plastic bags, and sandals, we climbed in the canoe and started talking about life.

It’s amazing how travel works—you lose inhibitions, you’re open to life and all the experiences it has to offer.  It’s so easy to share personal thoughts and stories, much more so than in your daily life.

Back to the Same Old Life in the Same Old Place

Here at home, life just wasn’t the same. To quell my loneliness and blues:

A cup of Guatemalan coffee and a worry doll didn’t get me over my post-vacation blues.
© Sally Baho

• I put on some Latin music and made coffee from beans brought back from Guatemala.

• I looked at my travel photos and researched cheap flights back to Guatemala.

• I unwrapped my Guatemalan worry dolls and tried to pass off my big case of post-vacation blues to the tiny doll.

Blasting Away the Post-Vacation Blues

And then my phone buzzed. It was Saturday morning when my local running group meets for our long run.

“Are you coming? We want stories!”

I begrudgingly laced up my shoes and headed out to meet the group. We ran a route I had never run before.

One of the guys told me that we were approaching “The Window of the Bay” and, when we emerged from this clearing, there would be a beautiful view. He instructed me to yell, “we live here” as soon as I saw the view.

“How will I know?” I inquired.

“You’ll just know.”

So we continued our run, swapping stories, laughing, chatting when suddenly we came upon a clearing with a panoramic view of the ocean.

“WE LIVE HERE!” I screamed and did a jump for joy.

The view of the Pacific Ocean from the running path…
it’s hard to believe that the same waters touch Guatemala
© Sherry Long

Oh, I See

And like that, my post-vacation blues disappeared.

It dawned on me that it’s not about where you are; it’s about your attitude. It’s about finding the things that make your heart race where you live (or moving to the place that fulfills you, if that’s an option).

It’s about bringing back the openness to other people that you feel when you travel—the kind that makes you head down to the tourist trap in your area, chat with some travelers, and maybe even invite them for a canoe ride.

I’m learning to see “goodbyes”
as “until next adventures”
© Sally Baho

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