www.WanderlustAdventures.org

24 hours till departure

2010-01-30T00:47:00.000-08:00

“Be at dis bus stop at 8 o’clock. Don’t loose da ticket!” I swear to God that I was looking the real live “Pedro” from Napoleon Dynamite. I seriously almost begged him for his autograph but instead I inquired “Is this a real ticket? Because you just wrote that guy a ticket for a tour of Tikal and those tickets look mighty similar. If this ticket isn’t real…I will find you and I will cut your throat.” I didn’t say that, but I thought it. He smirked at me. Then he started jabbering to me very rapidly which is what they do. The local guides feel that if they can catch you in the moment; that if they can make you feel like your only choice is to buy and buy right then and there, they can sell you anything. They use phrases like “we’re the only ones in town with this price” and “we only have 2 seats left”. Those lines will send the average tourist into a temporary, unneeded panic which results in a premature purchase.

Somewhere, lost in his spitfire of words, he explained to me that the ticket had a phone number on it so it had to be real. I inserted an eye roll. We exchanged a few more reassuring words to each other and I left. I strolled around the cobblestone streets a bit, window-shopping stores that lacked glass in their window frames. The air smelt of salt with an occasional whiff of armpit. It could have been mine. But I didn’t investigate. The sun was bright but not warm. The unleveled street made it hard for walking; so I did a lot of “pretending like” I didn’t just trip.

I breezed by the hostel and said my good-byes. Our flights were at different times so the group’s journey together was ending by default. Our farewells were short and 100 percent sincere. You form a bit of a bond with somebody when your week has been spent entirely together; participating in adventures together, doing life’s essential things such as finding food and water, and of course; shitting. Finding a place to crap together will bring you closer to someone than you can ever imagine.

It was my time to find my bus stop. I inquired from a local business man how long it would take me to walk to the stop. He told me 20 minutes. I left at 7:30 pm to give me that extra 10 minutes of getting lost time. I arrived at my destination at 7:33 pm. Hmmmm.

I shared seat number 9 with a creepy but smiley guy. He had a mustache. I immediately stereotyped him as the man with 4 kids locked in his basement. I gave him a courtesy smile and began my attempt at getting comfortable in my seat. I used to hate being short. I couldn’t spike the ball when I was captain of the volleyball team; I had to stand on something to kiss my high school friend boy; and long legs just looked sexy. Now, I have come to complete terms with my shortness. I’m travel size. You can find me in the aisle at target where they sell all the mini soaps and tiny shampoos. They may be small, but they are a lot more freaking comfortable on chicken bus rides, car rides, shuttle, airplanes, small boats, tents and even small beds. Yep, I’m travel size for a reason.

The bus ride is ten and a half hours. No, you didn’t just misread that. Mustache man kept falling on my shoulder and I kept pushing him off. They played awesome Sylvester Stallone movies from the 80’s in Spanish subtitles. There was a not-so-awesome slumber party going on behind me that involved 10 French teenagers with their burger king bags and constant exaggerated giggling. Once I fell asleep about the same time the bus hit a bump in the road. My head hit the glass window with a loud bang. The French kids thought that was hysterical. I secretly wished that their skinny jeans would cut off the circulation to their brains. Just for the bus ride.

We arrived in Guatemala City at sunrise. I muscled my way through the herd of taxi drivers with only one thing on my mind; THE BATHROOM! I didn’t care if there was a line. I didn’t care if it was a unisex bathroom. I didn’t care if there weren’t any spray or fans to numb the smell. I didn’t even care that the door didn’t shut all the way or that the seat cover was an odd shade of grey. I needed to take a crap. And fast.

After the best crap of my life, I found my way to the markets. They weren’t alive till 8 am. So I decided to take a tour of McDonald’s extensive coffee menu to kill an hour. I bought coffee. I found the best table for people watching. I sat down. Then it hit me again. I had to take another crap. The security guard was standing by the bathrooms; guarding the toilets with his big gun and tiny hands. So I took out a book and tried to wish away the afflictions in my lower stomach. Wishing did no good. So I crept to the bathroom. You had to get your toilet paper before you entered the stalls because there was no paper once you closed that door. I grabbed more than a hand full; while I ignored the stares of the cleaning lady. I squeezed in the stall that was obviously made for “sitting room only”. I just kind of turned in a circle while trying to figure out what to do with my backpack that held all my belongings. I looked like a dog chasing its tail. Finally I gave up. I opened the stall and put my backpack outside of it because I was not about to hold it while taking a deuce. That’s just weird. About 20 minutes later I did the walk of shame out of the bathroom, past the security guard. The hairs around the top of my forehead were damp with water. After that dump, I just felt the need to wash my face. I was 15 lbs lighter. And I could even breathe better for some reason.

I walked past the awaking markets. Everybody sold the same things; all with a “buen precio for you”. But I was still sucked into every stand, looking at it as if it were the first. I walked through the park. I stared at the gorgeous fountain in the middle that didn’t have any water in it. There were more pigeons than taxis. I scaled the steps to a church, digging in my pockets along the way so I could have change for the homeless people that sat outside waiting. The pegged me from a distance. Their cries became louder when they saw me, getting their point across. The amusing part is that I knew I had to save some change for when I exited the building, because they would ask for more; which I would gladly give them.

I entered an old catholic church and the 100 foot ceilings grabbed my focus. It was morning mass. My back pack and I stayed near the back so that I wouldn’t disturb the prayers. “En el nombre del padre, su hijo, y espiritu santo…..” The priest was doing his thing. There were pictures of newborn baby Jesus up and there were pictures of his death. It smelt like cold concrete. There was a silence. That silence could have either been uncomfortable or peaceful. I stared at a woman in a teal green scarf that circled her head. She was kneeling. Her lips were moving, but just barely. Her eyebrows were thick and mushed together because her eyes were closed so tight. Maybe she was praying for comfort. Maybe out of habit. Maybe to ask God for enough money to feed her kids or to send them to school. With my age, comes compassion. I looked at her, not with pity, but with a strain in my brow. I also closed my eyes. Maybe because that’s how I was taught how to pray. Maybe it’s because it allowed me to focus without distraction. But whatever the reason, I prayed that the lady in the teal scarf, that her prayers would be answered.

Sometimes I trap myself in this illusion that the “things” in life really matter. I will tell myself that I do need to make a name for myself, I do have to make a lot of money, and I do need an office with my name in all capitals on the door. And even though it’s healthy and needed in life to have goals and plans and dreams and aspirations…..I can’t forget the seemingly small yet ever so important things!! I can’t forget how important it is to be an amazing mother because I am shaping and molding another human life. I can’t forget to make time for my family or my best friends because those are the people who have molded and shaped my life. I can’t forget to love and let myself be loved because what good are my accomplishments if I have to come home to a house where the only person to congratulate me is my reflection? And I can’t forget to stand in the back of a church, holding sweaty change in my hand, and be filled with compassion for another human life. That is what life is all about.

I grabbed a taxi and headed for the airport. My time was up. The driver was nice. He had a bunch of dangly things swinging from his rear view. He spoke very clear Spanish which is always a rush of adrenaline for me because I could understand every word that he spoke. He charged me 5 dollars too much. Normally I would voice my disapproval until I got my way, but not today. I was calm. I was tranquila. I was exhausted. And I was reflecting on my trip. This trip reminded me of why I travel. Of course I travel just to travel. I travel for the stories. I travel for the perspectives that I couldn’t gain elsewhere. I travel so that I can traverse lands with no rules. I travel so that I can accept the consequences and rewards of getting lost. Because when I am lost, new faces are introduced, new places are always found and eventually you find what you were looking for—or did you? Travel brings me out of my comfort zone and into a new one.

2009-10-02T07:06:00.000-07:00

Six of us sit at the picnic style tables outside the kitchen of the hostel. The smell of guacamole and tortillas fills the air as we discuss our plans for the day. Large plates of brightly colored fruits and perfectly wrapped burritos are placed in front of us. The room becomes filled with the sound of forks scrapping across plates and a faint sound of music in the background. A complaint of unsweetened juice escapes a young girl‘s mouth and cuts through the contentment. An attitude opposite of gratitude lines the air. I question it, silently, wondering if she failed to remember that the breakfast is free.

We proceed, finishing the meal and never allowing the complaint to cross our minds again. With full bellies, we begin the walk.
We walk in a wolf-pack formation headed up by Starla and Daniel. Two of us girls share the burden of an oversized duffle bag possessing children’s clothing, books, and school supplies. Shaun trails behind with the large red suitcase packed full of similar contents being wheeled down the cobblestone streets. Upon entering the large yellow church, we are greeted with the lonely, hurt eyes of each and every ill individual patiently awaiting a doctor as they sit in the church lobby turned make shift hospital. People appear to be piled on top of more people. Everyone somber, yet patient as if to say they have no where else to be.
The eye contact is painful. It comes with overwhelming wonder if the large and mysterious bags we carry are somehow meant for each of the faces staring at our own.
Continuing down the hallway, toward the sunlight that makes itself known through a courtyard-like opening in the ceiling. Just through the gate, we find ourselves in front of a large life-size bible scene. I look around only to find more scenes… and a life-size, but very short, Jesus. We continue straight through the courtyard and into a dark, dreary room. A sudden stench of milk and tears enters my nostrils. No noise. High Ceilings. White walls decorated by two paintings - one on each end of the room. The gym-sized room is lined with metal cribs so close to each other, I wonder if they are potentially all connected.

Only three of the cold metal cribs contain children. Others are found in two lines of wheelchairs. Like a train. Some of the children are so still and lifeless, they have no choice but to be covered with netting to keep the bugs off their skin. They await.. there, in their lines, to be taken and wheeled outside. They are waiting to be shown some kind of attention.

Looking into their eyes, I wonder if they can see through my fake smile and withheld tears. Can they see my fear? I wonder if there is any cognitive though - if they even know my eyes are not the same ones they last met with their own. My heart breaks and I ask myself if any of it really matters. Do the few smiles I offer these special children make any difference in their day? Or perhaps their lives?
I can give them attention. I can push their wheelchair out into the sunshine. I can sit and blow bubbles with them . I can even hold them and offer a loving touch. But, is it really enough?
They know nothing more than simplicity in smiles. They deserve to have bubbles float around them every minute of their lives. They deserve to pick flowers and have never ending wheelchair races. They deserve to never know the feeling of a lost smile. Regardless of what they deserve, they wont get it.
These children know no wrong. They cant comprehend the world outside their orphanage where people don’t constantly give to others, where human kind is an oxymoron. These lucky children see human nature as good. I am not convinced they are missing out on anything. In fact, maybe they have it right. There is no hatred inside the orphanage walls. No bitterness. No hurt. And best of all, no complaints.
As we walked out of the church I found my mind wrapped around the complaint I had heard that morning. I asked myself if those deserving children would have complained? If the complainer deserved anything better than the unsweetened juice.

-Tasha Cortesi

A GOOD STORY

2009-05-07T19:19:00.000-07:00

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” –Mark Twain

As I sipped my hot tea in a room full of duct tape and dial-up internet, I chatted with a close friend of mine about the importance of “a good story”. “A good story” is what I have assembled my life around up until this point; and I make no apologies for that fact. Adventure, meeting new people, trying new things, failing at new things and stepping out of your element into what could potentially become your element; those are the things that make a good story.

I will never judge a person’s character based on their likes and dislikes because I don’t ever want anyone judging me on the fact that I adore half-off Mondays at the thrift store or that I gag at the smell of tuna fish. We are all different and we should be proud of all the small quirks that make us just that. But I do find myself silently judging people at times as I wonder, “What story will they have to tell after they sleep their morning away? Why do people listen to their ipod on their entire train ride as opposed to speaking to the person next to them? That person is amazing on the computer so why don’t they pursue their passion for it? A friend of mine grits his teeth as he talks about travel because he can’t stand the thought of not doing it a moment longer; but even though it’s his number 1 on his dream list, it’s his number 9 on his action list. Where do people find a good story to tell when they are stuck in the prison of their own monotonous lives?”

Now I’ve noticed a cycle that secretly attacks the souls of many people. People go to school, AS THEY SHOULD (I will always be an advocate of an education). But then after they get their “real job”, people feel this unseen pressure that ignites a need to put certain articles in their lives that will forever ensure their happiness. They surround themselves with certain things; with certain devices; with assured commodities; with guaranteed material items. It’s ironic to me that those very things you worked so hard to obtain were the exact objects that created the mundane existence that you weren’t expecting to encounter. People sit on their leather couches in their living rooms and glare at the flat screen picture boxes in their dust free houses and it takes everything in them to keep from just breaking down and screaming “I know there is more out there!”

So how to you keep that sentiment from taking over your life? How do you get that good story to tell? How do you break out from the all too familiar feeling of being trapped? How do you spend your whole life not waiting for your whole life?
You find your dream. You don’t settle for watered down paradises. You explore until you find your element. You discover new things; about yourself and about others. You’d be surprised at how much you learn about yourself through others. Don’t make the mistake of being disappointed at the dreams that you didn’t go for. I have to often remind myself that a dream that spends its entire existence as a dream is not a dream at all. But instead it’s a taunting echo that repeatedly reminds you that you never tried hard enough. So we should all grab our dreams and run with them; never looking back.…..except only when conjuring up a good story. 

Old Journal Entry

2009-04-21T08:30:00.000-07:00

Journal Entry- Leaving home to go home.

This world is filled with many things that we get used to having around. We are told by many that these things will bring us complete happiness and total pleasure. We are unintentionally brainwashed to believe that we can’t survive without our so-called “needs” like the television or a hair dryer. We get tricked into believing that stress is caused by having too many lip glosses to choose from or where to eat that night with friends. These petty things consume our thoughts and don’t allow enough room for the small things in life to mean something.

I will forever be obliged to the Costa Rican’s for showing me the joy that comes from everyday small things. Here are the few of the things I will miss from this wonderful country: sunrises, rice 3 meals a day, no air conditioning, cheap bus rides, the chicken in the seat next to me, their pride of their country, their soccer games in the streets, the randomness of electricity, their life long dedication to family, their front porches, how they share everything, how nine people will fit in one car, their old furniture, their hospitality and how someone will proudly let you into their home with no shame that they have dirt floors.

Things I did not miss from the states: cheeseburgers, oversized SUV’s that only one person will ride in at a time, oversized ovens, cable, carpeted houses, tanning beds, billboards everywhere you look, overpriced movies, cell phones, parks that lacked kisses, fashion magazines, large cups of coffee, speed limits, ice in my drink, a closet full of clothes, drive-throughs, hot water and the fact that people don’t use their legs as often as they should.

The things I desperately missed in America: my family, my friends, energy drinks, high fives and the endless opportunities.

Hitchhiking

2009-04-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

It's still too soon to really write how I feel about our most recent trip. But my brother and I started out in Atlanta, Georgia and ended up in Seattle, Washington and we did it all via hitchhiking. The kindness of people that we experienced along the way was inspiring and it changed our lives forever. Take a look at our slideshow and we will try to write more of our experiences real soon. -From Starla and Ryan Skelton (the founders of Wanderlust Adventures)

Honduras Doesnt' Suck!!!! And neither does Valdosta!!!

2009-01-20T10:40:00.001-08:00

Wanderlust Adventures wants to say THANK YOU to Valdosta for your support. We had an amazing crowd of people that came out to help raise money for two schools in La Ceiba, Honduras. A special thank you to Mulligan's Sports Pub, to Soular 7 for their great entertainment, and to all the people that drove from Atlanta and other far off locations to be there. You guys rock and the children in La Ceiba will soon appreciate your generous donations.

Guatemala Jan. 2009

2009-01-15T14:35:00.000-08:00

I sucked in an incredibly fresh breath of air; it was state of the art and I had never inhaled its equal. The air at 12,000 feet may be thinner, but it’s untainted and organic. I decided to go for a second round of deep breathing but I was met by an offending stench. I was even more offended when I realized that the funk was coming from the pits of my arms. I scrounged through my 25 lb. pack so that I could have a moment with my “Powder Fresh Secret.” I felt like there should have been music playing in the background as I dramatically applied it to my unshaven armpits. It did not 86 the smell but it did make the stink less raw.

I was perched on top of the third largest volcano in Guatemala with a small, yet matchless group. The volcano was dormant and held the name Acatenango. We had started our hike the previous day at ten in the morning. Our hike began with us donned in wife beaters and thin pants and by the time our world dropped below freezing; we were layered in every article of clothing that we had transported to the top. The hike was a character building hike that went straight up hill for hours on end. As the sun set, our team devoured dinner and we were asleep before we even had a chance to zip up our sleeping bags. Our night was filled with interrupted sleep because the sound of an exploding thunder kept delaying our dreams. The best part about that thunder was that it wasn’t thunder at all; but it was the overwhelming sound of an active volcano. Our campsite was a front row seat to Volcan Fuego; which happens to be one of the most active volcano’s in the world. After each eruption, the cone of the volcano seemed to be on fire as the lava slowly let gravity take its force.

My night of sporadic sleep could also have been blamed on my lower intestines. I think I had eaten one too many “energy” bars and I had OD’d on fiber. So I had at least three mini-adventures during the night that consisted of me cautiously roaming around with my head lamp leading the way to a safe spot to relieve my swollen stomach (or as our group called it; the food baby). The steepness of the volcano made it difficult to find a temporary restroom spot and the intense force of the wind didn’t make the toilet paper extravaganza any easier; but it was all necessary to relieve my stomach problemas.

After an interesting night and a marvelous orange sunrise we headed toward the actual peak of Acatenango. The sun beat down, the thin air got thinner, the dirt was in every crack of our bodies (and I mean every crack), and the dizziness began to set in. There was no alternative of falling or passing out because a fall from that height was not an option. The only thing that kept our group pressing forward was the encouragement from our professional local adventure guide; his name was Ryan but we called him La Maquina(the machine)! His faith in us was inspiring and some how or another—we all made it to the peak which happened to be at 13,045 feet (that’s 3,976 meters for all you non-Americans).

We passed the next few days in Antigua; which is a magical city. The kindness of strangers is overpowering in this town. And it didn’t hurt that its antique beauty partners with the doorway to adventure; so it makes it a perfect pueblo for outdoor enthusiasts. Our small group was enjoying each others company since we had connected from the common bond of pooping outdoors. I had already learned to admire each of them as they each brought something different to the table. But they did all have one thing in common: their flexibility and their attitudes surpassed those of any normal caliber. They weren’t capable of complaining in a serious manor and if they were, they hid it the entire eight days. I have such a massive respect for people that live with a positive attitude. Their affirmative mood and their positive outlook on everything made our trip!!! (and I want to thank you guys for that!!!!!!!)

After a day or two of soreness passed, we traveled via van to the top of a mountain that held unspoiled views. Our spectacle consisted of mountains; volcano’s and the crystal blue Lake Atitlan. Our team happily jumped on some mountain bikes and rolled quickly down the hills, past rural villages, down more steep inclines at ridiculous speeds and into a town that was washed with color. The name of the Pueblo was Panajachel. It was filled with entrepreneurs that hadn’t hit puberty yet. The women that say “you can never have too many purses” have never been to that town. It was the land of souvenirs. But it was also the land of more people that exuded awesome-ness. Everyone smiled and everybody was neighborly. It had a good feel to it.

When the sun started to retreat, we jumped on a lancha(small boat) and headed towards our hotel. It was called the Volcano Lodge and it was a majestic place that was lost in the trees. After a surprisingly great night of sleep, we started our next day by climbing in sea kayaks and paddling for two scenic hours over the lake. We were lucky to be able to paddle free of any wind. We followed the maquina(Ryan) up some steep rocks till we looked down about 50 feet. Then we jumped. It was amazing to say the least (except for the part when we first hit the paralyzing-ly cold water).

We hiked back for about three hours on the edge of cliffs and through rural towns. We were able to see men and women in traditional clothing. We passed their dirt-floored houses, their chickens running in and out of them, and of course their big white smiles! It was an experience like no other. I hadn’t even left the country yet and I already couldn’t wait to come back!!!!! Me encanta Guatemala

During our trip, our group set aside some time to give back to the community. We brought food to families, fed the homeless and entertained children at a special needs orphanage. Those moments were just as important to me as my near death instances that I crave. They remind me of a purpose; whether we recognize it or not, we all look for that in life. We all strain to better ourselves and that’s how I pine to better mine.

There is a void that sneaks its way into my life on a regular basis and it screams at me “why aren’t you doing more? There are so many people you could be helping so step up your game!” Those are the howls that make me want to give up because I’m not doing enough. My convictions start seeping through and I start second guessing everything I am doing. Questions start flooding my mind. Guilt attacks. I think things like: I’m not doing enough. And: It’s not fair to be helping one situation and not the other. But I can’t allow myself to think that way. I don’t have the answer to all of life’s mysterious calamities. So instead of beating myself up about what I can’t do to help the world, I focus on everything I can do. I can buy stoves that will assist the hunger problem in Darfur. I can collect books for the children of Honduras so that they will have a better shot at an education which will enable them to end their vicious cycle of poverty. I can bring highly needed shoes to an orphanage of 15 small children that are all under the age of five.

We spend so much time focusing on the negative until we go stark raving mad and nothing gets done. So my suggestion to myself and to others is—find your purpose; your meaning, your aspiration, your target, your mecca, your scope, your scheme; whatever you want to call it, just find it! And once you catch it, don’t let anyone make you feel inadequate about having it. We are not all meant to do the same things or care about the same things in life. If you have a burden for the orphanages in Cambodia then hold fundraisers to raise money for supplies that you can send them. If you have a heart for India, then volunteer for community projects in Dharamsala. If you feel drawn to help your home town, then get to your nearest computer and google till you find something. Recognize your purpose and go for it! Your life will be changed for the better and so will the life of someone else.

A Special Thank you to Old Time Outfitters!
www.wanderlustadventures.org

DEDICATED TO MY RECORD BREAKERS:

2009-01-14T07:53:00.000-08:00

People can travel throughout all corners of the world, eat eight different types of hummus, bow to various elders, take beautiful photographs and study for years on end; and some still don’t get life. They overlook the fact that there is more to life than materials and self recognition. There is more to life than the brand of your shirt. There is more to life than seeing the Eiffel Tower. The amount of souvenirs you bought should not classify how good or bad of a vacation you took.

Ask yourself a couple of questions: how many people did you go out of your way to talk to? How many people did you give a raunchy attitude too? How many people did you get irritated at because they couldn’t speak English? How many hotel operators did you cuss out because your perfect little Americanized room half way across the world wasn’t absolutely perfect as you compared it to what you were used to. Seriously, live a little. Let something dissimilar say hi to you every once in a while in life. Be willing to allow a little room for a good story. Either learn to be flexible or learn to be disappointed with life.

People that live just to complain; please don’t ever come sit by me. And it’s not because I am not a good listener. It’s because I can not relate to what you are saying. Yes, I have had bad experiences and yes, some things that happen in the life of travel do suck. But that is what makes the good times just that much better. I have hit those lows. So when the highs are in full swing, I can sit back and breathe and know that at that very moment, life is good.

-From Starla Skelton; Dedicated to the Jan 2009 Guatemala trip; Thank you guys for being such an awesome group of people and for taking the time to "get" life!!

You guys rock!!!!

2008-12-19T11:19:00.000-08:00

I wanted to say thank you so much to the wonderful kids and staff at Cumberland Academy! This school took the time to make baskets full of groceries for two refugee families that wouldn't have had a nice Christmas dinner otherwise(They now have more rice than they will know what to do with). One of the families are from Somalia and the other family is from Burma.
SO THANK YOU CUMBERLAND ACADEMY!!!!!

-www.cumberlandacademy.org
-Families were recommended by World Relief (www.wr.org)

Muchisimo Gracias!!!!

2008-12-19T11:01:00.000-08:00

I want to express my appreciation to the three following high schools; Dutchtown, Union Grove, and Luella High School. These schools took the time to give back to their local community and they made a big difference! By donating new and lightly used coats, families throughout Atlanta will have been impacted in a positive way. These coats will be distributed by the Samaritan House and Focus on Humanity. Thanks again guys for helping the local families in need! You guys are awesome!

Sponsored by www.onewarmcoat.org and
www.wanderlustadventures.org

Shared thoughts on Travel....

2008-12-15T11:45:00.000-08:00

Journal entry, October 20th
Why do I love to travel? Why is there a spark that is ignited every time I board an aircraft that is scheduled to leave its current location? Because it strips me of all my conveniences. And do you know what that leaves me? -Room for adventure!
You take away those fruitless picture boxes that provide hours of brainless entertainment; you remove the convenience of words, the convenience of security, the presence of the familiar, the luxury of matching your clothes and the basic communication that text messaging provides, and all you have is life.
It is when life is stripped of all things recognizable; that is when you are you able to see it as it really is. And what is it? I feel that it is different for everyone. For me it is an unexplainable feeling of freedom and basic-ness. It’s when I am reminded that there are few things needed in order to survive. It’s when life whispers to me that I have no emotional ties to clothes, shoes, snow boards or library cards. Family, friends, the sun on my face and chips and salsa are all I need to press forward.
Travel enables you to add things to your character that you wouldn’t be able to add otherwise. It can assist you in developing more of an opinion on things. It promotes self reliability and improves self confidence. My BFF Rachel once said “If confidence was a drug, I would have OD’d by now.” As much as we laughed after her proclamation, I believe that a lot of her confidence comes from the knowledge of the world first hand. She educated herself with an abundance of schooling and backed it up with experience in the flesh.
My brother once told me that “the best people today made the worst mistakes yesterday.” Another beautiful aspect of travel is that it allows your wounds to breathe. And if you’re lucky enough, to even heal. Your mistakes have time to reflect and this time, with different eyes.
So why do I love to travel; because it brings me out of co-existing into life!

-A journal entry from the book: Adventure Guru: The Offbeat Commentary of a Female Traveler, written by Starla Skelton

Coat Drive

2008-12-10T11:49:00.000-08:00

Wanderlust is holding a Coat Drive at Dutchtown High School for the rest of the week. So drop clean, reusable coats off in the school office and they will go to assist local families in need. Thank you to all the students and teachers at Dutchtown for your support!!!

Wanderlust Volunteers

2008-12-08T07:19:00.000-08:00

I wanted to say thank you so much to my group of volunteers that took the time to make baskets full of needed food for a refugee family. I was inspired to see how eager everyone was to help someone in need. Thanks so much and I look forward to working with you guys again soon!

Fundraiser--Tattoo Result......

2008-12-07T07:32:00.000-08:00

We will be getting a WAFFLE tattoo,,compliments of Santi being hungry and just submitting a random idea of what he felt like eating. Thanks again to everybody who supported this cause!!

Fundraiser number dos!!!!

2008-12-05T12:37:00.000-08:00

We had an amazing time in East Atlanta Village at the Graveyard Tavern!!!!! The turnout was awesome and the fact that everyone came to support something positive was overwhelming! I wanted to give a special thank you to DJ MUDFISH, THIRTEEN ROSES TATTOO PARLOUR, AND THE GRAVEYARD TAVERN for supporting our vision which is to enhance the primary and secondary education programs in underdeveloped countries. You guys rock!!!!

Fundraiser

2008-10-07T11:59:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to thank everybody that came out and supported our fundraiser on October 4th. All of the profits will go directly to an elementary school in Villa Nuria, Honduras. This school houses over 80 children and they have zero access to reading and reference books. We want to help these kids receive an education in a country that isn't able to spend hundreds of millions of dollars on educating its children. Thanks again for all your support!

For more information, email me at starlaa@wanderlustadventures.org.
You can also check out www.wanderlustadventures.org/fundraiser.htm

OUR TATTOO'S WERE DONATED BY KARMIC TATTOO; located in McDonough,GA.

LIFE CHANGING

2008-10-01T07:53:00.001-07:00

Wow, I don’t know where to begin to share my unforgettable experience I just had in Honduras. I have been on 13 mission trips and I have to say this one was the most memorable. I couldn’t have asked to go with a better group of people. They were all so pleasant to be around the entire trip. It made the trip that much more enjoyable.
Well to start off I was caught by surprise to see my lovely Mother was at the Airport to pick us up. That sure put a smile on my face. I went to Honduras with an open heart to try to take in every experience & moment that I could embrace. I can go ahead and tell you I had so many different experiences and challenges last week. I went over there to also reflect on some experiences that have recently occurred in my life and to decide which experiences need my dedication. A lot of things were eye openers for me & I am sure for other people on the trip as well. I saw some things I have never seen before that will make you realize how short life truly is. I have so much going on in my life right now & going to Honduras was exactly what I needed. I went to Honduras with so many things going through my head. I was in hopes of being able to let some things go in my life. This trip really allowed me to do so. My trip to Honduras really taught me a lot, not only about myself but about life.
We started our tripclimbing the ferocious Mountains of Pico Bonito, to see the most beautiful Waterfalls created. Of course as we started our journey up the mountain it started raining. What I really mean was it poured down raining the entire way up the mountain. It only made for a more adventurous hike. I got the courage to jump off a 12 foot rock. That at first didn’t seem that high until I climbed up there and got ready to jump off. We were all enjoying the nature of the amazing earth.
The next day we went White Water Rafting. Or so I thought. I learned that day that “Real Men Raft without Rafts”. We spent the first two hours climbing, repelling, & jumping off all different sizes of rocks into the rapids. It really taught me to how use mind over matter. You really had to believe in yourself that you could accomplish some of the things we were challenged to do. The biggest challenge was to climb up a huge rock and jump 20 feet into the rapids. To then only swim across the current, climb back up a straight 33 foot rock with my bare hands and feet with no help. My first question was how in the world I’m I going to get down once I get up there. The only way down was to jump. So I took a couple of deep breaths and jumped off this 33 foot rock into the rapids. We finally made it back to the raft & continued down the river hitting class 2, 3, & 4 rapids. We had a couple of close calls but as a team we made it through. “Who’s the Best? We Are!” That was an awesome strengthening experience for me.
Next we visited a local Orphanage filled with the most precious children in the world. We brought the children clothes, shoes, books, & hair accessories. The mother told us that she was just praying for more shoes for the children. And we blessed them with shoes to wear. All of the children had to saddest stories of how they ended up in the Orphanage. All the children were 4 years of age and under. We played with all the children & helped feed them their dinner for the evening. Of course I found a newborn. I found an infant to take care of everywhere I went.
We also visited a local village that my parents are building homes for. There are a total of 33 families that are in need of a better roof over their head. While we were there we did arts and crafts with the children of the village.
The next day we visited a nursing home in La Ceiba. We sang songs with them and played ball. They were so precious. They have no family to come visit them so they are always happy to see new faces. That day we also had a Bible Class with the children in my parent’s neighborhood. We taught them English & did arts & crafts.
While I was there I got to share a few meals with my parents. I have longed for my mothers cooking again. Boy did that make me happy. A group of us took a ferry boat ride to the Bay Islands of Utila. We went to a beautiful beach with crystal clear water & pearly white sand. We all rented snorkeling equipment that afternoon & took a journey out into the ocean. We saw some of God’s greatest creations. Some people got to experience it for the very first time. It was awesome to share that experience with them.We ate some great food & met some interesting people while were on the island. One of the hardest challenges I experienced on the trip was Scuba Diving. I will admit I had quite a bit of a struggle getting used to breathing out of the respirator. But after a while with the assistance of my diving instructor I was able to overcome my struggles. I did something I didn’t think I could do. & that in itself was self rewarding. We had several drills to accomplish at the bottom of the ocean before we could explore. We were 55 feet under water. I’m telling you I was sitting on the bottom of the ocean. That’s so crazy to me. Wow, we saw all kinds of amazing creatures. We saw tons of colorful fish, Eels, Crabs, & Squids. We also had a chance to see a ship wreck. We then changed oxygen tanks & went to a different part of the island to dive again. That was quite an amazing experience for me.
That was not only the most adventurous trip I have been on but the most rewarding. I was really blessed by the people in Honduras. They are just so humbling. I hope everyone will have the same opportunity to experience what I got to experience last week. I was able to open my heart to some things I haven’t been able to. This trip opened my eyes to what is most important to me. I also was able to close a page in my book & start the next page. Life is too short not to experience real life on this amazing earth. Don’t waist your precious time wondering if you could experience what I just got to experienced. Just go for it & don’t look back.
written by bethany skelton

"MY DIAMOND SHOES ARE TOO TIGHT"

2008-09-24T08:33:00.000-07:00

This could potentially be one of the greatest phrases ever! One of my greatest friends, Dugan, overheard some people complaining about their experience in first class. As harmless as she meant it when she replied with the words "My diamond shoes are too tight", it felt like somebody punched me in the throat. Even though her words were not directed at me, i couldn't help but to apply them to my life.

The day before i left for my trip, my washing machine broke and flooded the house. Of course my first instinct is to think "woe is me; why me? This sucks". But when I was forced to think about it, i thought "at least i have a house; the only things ruined were replaceable; more than half the world doesn't own a washing machine, so at least I have one". When I looked at my life from that perspective--I started to enjoy my time in Honduras even more.

Our humanitarian efforts began by taking large amounts of clothes, shoes, books and accessories(provided by bethany) to a baby orphanage. When we arrived, the children were preparing to eat dinner. The head of the orphanage asked "ninos,,quieren comida o zapatos?" (children, do you want food or shoes?) They all screamed "zapatos"(shoes). They dumped the shoes out onto the dusty floor and all the kids anxiously dove for them. There is no feeling much greater than the feeling I had at that moment. I honestly believe that our greatness is not measured by what we possess, but by what we give.

We had a great time at a local nursing home in La Ceiba. We had a nice game of soccer going (or as they would call it--futbol). We taught an English lesson to some local children, did arts and crafts with 2 different villages, and bought food for a local family and dined with them. My favorite part of that dinner was learning that Mr. Chang rearranged the dishes on the table to cover the insect life. Kelly took an entire day to help a volunteer construction team build a much needed house for a village. Everyone in our small group jumped at the opportunity to strengthen another life. And even though we didn't do anything miraculous that will save the world, we took a step in the right direction--and that matters.

EARTH IS AMAZING

2008-09-24T07:15:00.000-07:00

During this previous week's vortex of adventures, my new friend Chris (chang) stated, "Earth is amazing". For some reason that statement confiscated my attention and it made my travels really sink in. This past week was full of non-stop excitement as we toured a tiny spot on this amazing earth. When you surround it with imaginary lines and put it on a rotating globe, we call that spot Honduras.

One of the highlights of our trip was slowly descending 55 feet below the surface of the water to a world much more colorful than our own. On our first dive we witnessed a school of squid and a couple of them were mating (a unique experience for me). Our dive included clear visibility, schools of colorful fish, overly larger groupers, lobsters, eels and much more. As i watched my friends eyes widen and bubbles rapidly coming from their regulators, i knew that this was going to be the first of many dives for them.

Our group took a day to hike to the remote waterfall of Rio Zacate. The ferocious downpour of hard rain slowed us down a bit but it just gave us a better story to tell. During our white water rafting extravaganza i learned that "real men raft without rafts". Whether it's true or not, i think that it's hysterical and it fit our day to a tee. We spent the majority of our day climbing up slippery rocks and getting a running start to jump off cliffs into the river (and i have to mention that the current in the river was no joke). The best climb was one that entailed strategically climbing straight up a 50 foot wall where your fall(if there was one) was broken by the river below. Once we were safely at the top, we discovered that we were indeed expected to jump off into the currents below. I involuntarily volunteered to go first and i felt like i would never quit falling. It was indescribably amazing.

Our other adventures were a bit more laid back such as boat rides, snorkeling and laying on a white sand beach. Overall our week in a underdeveloped paradise was incredible. I couldn't have gone on a trip with better people; people that were open to try everything with little or no complaining along the way. Thank you guys (you know who you are) for making this past week an unforgettable one for me.

thought of the day......by "OFF THE MAP" -by crimethinc

2008-09-24T07:06:00.000-07:00

When i find myself in this place of incontrovertible aliveness, when the world is on fire and i am with it---i think, i won't forget this, i won't be lost in the pettiness of the day-to-day, my own turmoil, i won't succumb to sorrow or inertia or fall prey to fear. None of it matters nearly as much as this joy, this knowing the beauty of each thing exactly as it is.

Recently i have begun to think, more realistically. i probably will forget this; i will be caught up in stuckness and i will be afraid, i will be numbered by the horror of everything around me and i will feel small and tired and lost. But this time i will try to remember a space beyond it. i will try to remember the boundless hope and consuming joy and know that it's still there, somewhere. Holding out behind a curtain of small terrors and fog and futility is a fortress of uncontainable bliss waiting to be unleashed again in my heart and the world.

Wanderlust in Atlanta!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2008-08-20T12:44:00.000-07:00

Well who says that you can't have an adventure in the rural parts of Hot-lanta.? It wasn't one of our outdoor, piss in your pants type of adventure though. It was the type of activity that makes you open your eyes and heart to the act to "giving back."

Five volunteers of Wanderlust headed to the small town of Tucker(ok,maybe it's not that small). Before we could even knock on the door we heard the exitement of two young boys. These children, age 3 and 5, were amazing. I found myself being absorbed by the 5 year old's intelligent and animated stories.

We brought an awesome Mexican dinner to share with them along with some school supplies, clothes, and toys.

My experience was an overall success with the help of Bethany, Lendy, Chris and Tasha. You guys are the best!

chao

2008-07-11T22:32:00.000-07:00

I have left the unforgettable country of Honduras and am now home. I have been on too many trips to count, but this one will forever be a permanent fixture in my mind. It was phenomenal and I was fortunate enough to meet some people that greatly inspired me.

There’s an old quote by George Moore that states “A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it”. To each his own—so in his case, that was presumably true. But I have not found that to be so; which is probably why my passion lies in the discovery of the world.

Don’t get me wrong; I do find joy in coming home. There is always that temporary satisfaction of being in a familiar place surrounded by the ones that call you friend. A friend that supports you and encourages you is an irreplaceable gift in life. I wouldn’t want to live without them. But I am not content, nor will I ever be, with the security of being able to find my way home day after day after day.

Adventure seems to be so man-made these days and I feel like I have to seek it with all my might. I have realized on this trip that I don’t need to go on this almighty quest for an adventure. When I try something new, show unexpected kindness, or speak to someone unfamiliar—adventure just seems to find me.

I love the uncertainty of the outcome of life. The unknown of whether my business will succeed or fail is an adventure for me. And I am up to the challenge!! As a matter of fact, I have never been so ready!

So I want to say that I look forward to traveling the world with you. You may say that you can’t afford it; but I say that it is all a matter of priorities. If you are one hundred percent satisfied with your life—then this may not be the trip for you. Because this trip will open your eyes and you will yearn to learn and experience new things.

daily quotes

2008-07-05T22:14:00.000-07:00

Wanderlust has a page where we share our favorite quotes,, but I just wanted to post one here that caught my attention today.

*Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions. -Dalai Lama

The alternative to not striving for your dreams---is perfecting the art of living a mundane life.
- s. skelton

dine with angels

2008-07-05T16:03:00.000-07:00

After the sun began to set, Kelli, Carli and I made our way down a forgotten path where a family of 9 anxiously waited. The small shack was not even in sight yet and three of the children ran to cheerfully greet us and assist us with our gifts of groceries. As we approached their home, we walked directly under a tin roof which is where we found they spent most of their time. They owned one round plastic table with 2 chairs. There was a small, off balanced wooden table where dishes were washed and kept. An off white pipe formed a u- shape over a plastic, faded blue bowl which brought water from the river to be used as a sink. To the left, a wooden column held rusty nails which allowed them to hang various items up. The two things that stuck out to me were an old faded purse and a sliced milk jug which held their toothbrushes. We set down enough rice, beans and maseca on the plastic green table to last them a week. They were immediately grateful. The lady of the house showed us how things were done around there. We observed as she started making the tortillas with her wrinkled hands. She continuously kept a large fire under the wood burning stove so that the rice and beans would turn out perfect for her visitors. We watched in awe as they showed us how they grinded coffee beans and put them directly into a boiling pot with no filtering process. We occasionally tripped over the frantic chickens or over grandma, who towered at about 4 feet 4 inches. This open aired house, with its dirt floors and hanging corn, felt very much like home to me. We eagerly sat down to gratify our empty stomaches (some sat on the floor, some stood, some sat on piles of corn, and some on logs). After they served us, we patiently waited for them to fix their plates and join us. After about five minutes, I finally discovered that they were waiting on us to eat first. They wanted to make sure we were going to enjoy this meal that they had so carefully prepared. It wasn't until I told them that we were full that they started to fix their plates. It took them about sixty second to devour theirs. It was truly an amazing experience that I will carry with me forever. Their kindness was portrayed with more than just translated words. It reminded me of one of my favorite quotes by the Dalai Lama: "We are visitors on this planet. We are here for 90, 100 years at the very most. During that period, we must try to do something good, something useful with our lives. Try to be at peace with yourself, and help others share that peace. If you contribute to other peoples happiness, you will find the goal, the true meaning of life."

UTILA

2008-07-05T08:30:00.001-07:00

Utila, which is one of the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras, has a mystical presence about it. Don't judge this island at first glance. Appearances may portray it as a bit rusty, but you will soon be proven wrong.You roam the rocky streets barefoot as you pass hippies, divers, crates of recycled bottles, and if you are lucky-- a local Utilian. The main road is lined with countless dive shops and the Caribbean coast. Though it is a place that may be overlooked on a map, it is embedded in my time line of "Best Adventures Ever".

Wanderlust started our morning with 2 dives as we joined the amazing Underwater Vision dive shop. The water was transparent and the fish were glowing. Our second dive site was called the Airport Caye's. The never ending coral surrounded us as it quickly uncovered the sea life. An amazing spotted eagle ray gracefully flew past me and i chased him until he faded into blue. My diving buddy, Tim, looked constantly amazed, even through his spit encrusted goggles. This was his first time diving and his reaction to the experience made my entire trip worth while. His gratefulness to our trip just reassured me that I was truly following my passion in life. Thanks Tim.

i heart books

2008-07-03T07:20:00.001-07:00

So i have been reading a book during spare moments on my trip.My cousin let me steal it from her and it's called "off the map"-by CRIMETHINC. It's wonderful and i just wanted to write the introduction for all to read:

This is what it means to be an adventurer in our day: to give up creature comforts of the mind, to realize the possibilities of imagination. Because everything around us says no you cannot do this, you cannot live without that, nothing is useful unless it's in service to money, to gain, to stability.

The adventurer gives in to tides of chaos, trusts the world to support her- and in doing so turns her back on the fear and obedience indoctrination of impossibility.

My adventure is a struggle of freedom.

2008-07-03T07:16:00.000-07:00

daydreams are really only life, when you live them up close, i thought,. take away the distance, live daily in the beauty you had imagined from afar, and immediately the flaws surface. it's like love that way; once you arrive, once you are firmly aground in a love, you begin to see that it has cracks and rough edges and dirty spots, pockets of toxins, less privacy, maybe, than what you had imagined., but if you are willing to remember the initial distant beauty of a love or a daydream, and if you are willing to live in that beauty up close even with all its imperfections,,, then the dream is yours to have. people who can remember that on a daily basis are lucky, because they get to spend their time swimming and kissing instead of always looking off into the distance, making up things that aren't necessarily true about places or people who are far away. it's almost too easy to avoid living the dream you are in while questing for one more perfectly imagined. half of being a dreamer is dreaming and half of it is actually living in your dreams!!!!!

from the book, off the map (which i already bought a copy for ryan, jamal, kelly, erin, rachel and mike)

life

2008-07-03T06:59:00.000-07:00

We make our way down the trail past a small natural pool of rushing water. I am warned not to look to the left as we make continue what seems an aimless trek down a flight of cement stairs. Just as my lower back commences a feeling of tightness i turn a corner and am painted by a blanket of cool mist. As I open my eyes from the initial shock of the water, I stand in awe at the foot of a perfectly sculpted waterfall. A sense of overwhelming empowerment rushes through me and I am left stunned. As I step over the edge - the threshold between manmade bridge and natural curve of rock and foliage I become filled with the excitement only a 4 year old child could exude. Mist still caressing my body, I leap into a pool of water and continue onward toward the waterfall like a tiny lead bead so powerfully pulled toward a magnet. Adrenaline pumped as if to replace every liter of blood in my body. As I stand at the bottom of such a natural masterpiece, I realize I have stopped breathing in excitement. Water pours over me inhibiting all visual experience, my heart pounds and my balance becomes useless. I climb behind the curtain of water and catch my breath. After accepting the rediculous idiot-like grin stretched across my entire face is completely unbreakable, I stand back immediately consumed by the sight of water cascading down from this stone umbrella above me. Inspiration at this point is completely insufficient in describing the train of emotions barreling its way through my being.I find myself standing on a ledge 30 feet above the the junction between what seems the end of the waterfall and the beginning of the river. My only option is to jump purely to feel the rush. purely to live in that particular moment. the cold pure water whirls around me and bubbles make the journey from my feet to the top of my head rolling the entire way along my skin as if to cleanse me. I resurface, my entire body shaking uncontrollably as if I had just recieved a shot of unwarranted epinephrine. I climbed out of the water and we made our way to the top of the grand waterfall.As I stand wading in water forcefully colliding into my calves I lean over the the edge and stare down into the river I had just been consumed by. At that moment, 145 feet above everything, I held a piece of the world in my hands and I came to the realization that I had to let go of my grasp in order to consecrate sanity into my mind again. Life at that moment, atop the beautifully crafted waterfall, was experienced. Life at that moment was appreciated. Life was LIVED.
written by Tasha

Lesson Learned

2008-07-01T11:57:00.000-07:00

Words do not justify my perception of the events that took place in the happenings of today. If i had to give a summation of my feelings in two syllables, it would be "content". After our thirty minute van ride to a place that's not on any map, we piled out into the welcoming heat of a village. Wanderlust accompanied 3D-International to their adopted village where we were met by filthy chickens, never-ending trash, lonely hammocks, and more smiles than Disney land. 3D's adopted village is set up on an acre and a half of land and it occupies between 250 and 300 people. Even though their structures consists of windowless, door less, floor less heaps of sticks-I do not pity them. The souls that occupy those domains make them true homes.

There is a prehistoric aura about the village. There are no mirrors-but mothers lovingly brushing their child's hair for our visit. They cook what they have over open flames. They sweep dirt from their dirt floors. They shamelessly welcome us into their barren abodes. The interior of their residences do not require second glances; but the pride on their faces do.

3D's goals for the village are to build them sturdy, brick homes that will hold up under dramatic weather conditions. Also to teach them how to grow their own food and various skills that will encourage their survival. This group of people need our assistance and it is our duty to help them gain the necessities for life. But I am motivated by their basic-ness of life. We have so many "things" in life that distract us from the opportunities that help us grow.

As we propelled away in our time machine on wheels, over the one lane, two way bridge--I thought of the very simply lesson i was taught today. If I am not happy with who I am, there are no possessions that will make me conclude otherwise.

life is bueno!!!

2008-06-30T17:26:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those days that you wish would never end?? Well that's how our day was yesterday. Our voyage began at 8 am where we headed to the river to engage in white water rafting with one of the most experienced and energetic guides i have ever had the privilege to be with. While our beacon of the river was laying out our instructions,,i couldn't pry my eyes from this 55 foot high rock. It was love at first sight and I couldn't help but to interrupt by saying "please tell me we can we jump off that thing?" Only 5 out of the 8 of us could make the ascend on the backside of the rock. When we victoriously conquered the climb,, my fellow companions(who were all male) started to admit that it's a bit higher than they had imagined it. So i said,,"you guys gonna just stand there or are ya going to jump?" One of them said "ladies first" and before they could finish their laugh with their imaginary high fives,,i rolled my eyes and leaped into the river below. Of course they all jumped soon after cause they couldn't be shown up by a chick.We spent the rest of the afternoon in deep concentration and solid formation as we conquered the river. It rocked!!!! After lunch i drove us to the Rio Zacate where we took a short 45 minute hike up into the dense jungle. Our destination was a beautiful waterfall surrounded by small swimming holes. There were also rocks all around that were good for jumping off of.

It was one of those days were i wish all my friends could have shared it with me!!!!!!!

random thoughts

2008-06-28T13:45:00.000-07:00

The first part of my day was spent volunteering at the orphanage again. It was another intense, amazing day with those kids. This evening i decided to migrate to the urban area of La Ceiba. i reluctantly decided to run errands with my pop(who runs a non-profit organization out of Honduras). the car ride would give me some quiet time. we strolled into the town mall after a surprising success at maneuvering through the taxis and oblivious drivers; and that was just in the parking lot. Pops ran into the bank to be provided with a customer service rating of negative forty four and i window shopped to postpone being bored. i focused through some recently spit shined glass at one of the most uninteresting things i could possibly peer at; cell phone covers. i am still oblivious to their actual purpose, but i am open to their definition. my guesstimating would be that there was an absurd number of 200 diverse covers in an unfortunate 18 variant colors. certain ones looked like a bedazzler threw up on them and others portrayed a net worth that was most likely higher than my own. the counter girl, who looked alarmingly happy, motioned to me with her eyes to take a closer look. i shook my head no thanks.."i couldn´t afford the insurance policy on those," i thought but didn´t say. there was a sudden nauseous foreboding that swept over me as i surveyed that mall. i sensed that i didn't belong there. everything from within wanted to scream-"you crude, self absorbed colony of lost souls!! There is more to life than this! Lives based only on material possessions will never know what their one chance at life has to offer! Get over yourselves!!!! " but as i brought my heart back down to its resting rate,i realized that if i would have verbalized my "poor excuse for a slogan" story- then i would have been just like them. i don't ever want to judge people for what they presume to be. the rich judge the poor. the poor judge the rich.hippies judge the yuppies.yuppies judge the hippies. carnivores judge the vegans. vegans judge the carnivores.it is all just one heinous cycle of ridiculousness. Adopt the phenomenon that everyone isn't like you for a good reason. as my grandmother would say "be kind to EVERYONE! "That's the greatest thing i have ever been taught.

DayThree

2008-06-27T07:24:00.000-07:00

It’s enlightening how much you learn every time you decide to take that leap out outside of your comfort zone. Being in Honduras is a beautiful, enlightening, and growing experience for me. I am looking forward to spending the afternoon at the orphanage and I can’t wait to take the boat ride to Utila tomorrow so I can go diving for the first time!!!

वे वेरेन'टी doctors

2008-06-26T11:53:00.000-07:00

It was a cool day, unusually cool in fact for this flatlands part of coastal Honduras. The sun had been stuck behind a lazy herd of cumulus clouds and didn’t seem to be coming out anytime soon. The wind seemed to be blowing at an ever constant rate, strong enough to feel your shirt get tighter and hear the whipping of the excess cloth at your back. We were walking through a field of high grass, watching as the directionally perplexed wind cast its orders over the army of green blades. The village plot was mostly grass with exception of the dirt islands each hut seemed to be marooned on. This dirt was also another soldier the wind would bark orders at, periodically forcing it to spiral upwards and surround the hut with a small twister of dust and ashes. Walking up to this archipelago of houses made of nothing but sticks, mud and sweat, we knew our destination immediately. Her waving hand drawing as much attention as a small brown women could in a fog of dust, we headed toward her. As we approached her you could see all the years and all the worries openly displayed in the deep creases of her skin. The only distinguishable features of her face were the red-veined pupils around her dark eyes. The rest blended in with the folds and lines of poverty. Firmly across her forehead, the once white bandana now adapted to its surroundings and camouflaged itself with grass stains and dust. She spoke slow and soft barely discernable over the clucking of the chickens staging their protest while searching for anything edible on their barren isle. She directed us inside a door-less doorway into her dining/ living/ bed room where an obtrusively swollen man lay vulnerably on his bed. As we walked in a child oblivious to our entrance laid adjacent to the man with no other obligations than to watch his ever slowing chest rise and descend. The boy seemed concentrated so hard on the man’s chest, as if he was rhythmically counting the seconds in which the man’s chest should rise again, dying a little himself every second longer that his grandfathers’ chest stayed level. Nearing the bed I felt my eyes stay on the ground not wanting to witness his possible last breath. Stepping close I was suddenly startled as two hens raced from underneath the bed between my legs dashing for the open air as if I was there for dinner. The man laid depressingly still on his bed, which consisted of a wooden frame and yellow twine that was tightly laced around the frame looking more like an uncomfortable net than a bed. The man’s grandson woke him and directed his bleary consciousness towards us. We smiled trying to put him at ease, knowing we couldn’t hide the concern on our pale spoiled faces. Speaking broken Spanish, we tried to console him as if we ourselves were the doctors that were going to drain the fluid from his drowning lungs. A strong gust of wind came through and rapped the tin roof causing a vicious noise, silencing the entire room. Looking down from the roof back into the beaten face of the man, he started to try and reposition himself. This action strained him so that his eyelids started to creep open for the first time. As I bent down to grab his arm I came face to face with his now entirely open stone gray eyes, in which I couldn’t see or feel anything that resembled a life inside. The grandson now jumped to help recognizing his grandfather wanted to try and sit up. The dying blind man sat wheezing, sweating, and crying. His crooked confused frown and tightly shut eye’s showing strain in the wrinkles protruding from his squinted lashes like whiskers. He sighed trying to decide on whether he could give one more attempt at life. He reached out and the small brown woman quickly met his hand with hers knowing that it was her thick-creased fingers he was expecting. The man was wearing a half torn open shirt with a layer of dust and ash that also covered the dishes, tables, and hearts of everyone in the room. As the man managed to his feet a fleet of lethargic flies spread in anger as their usually immobile feast slowly rotated into movement. The sun was lower now and was cutting through the slats of the wall highlighting thin strips of unsettled dust throughout the room. I watched as the old man’s expressions would sluggishly break the plane of those illuminating particles in what seemed was slow-motion. We weren’t the doctors and he knew that, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t help. What we had was ourselves, our energy, our passion, and in this case, a van.
Saving lives aren’t only done on movie sets, and they don’t always have some dramatic story leading up to a life-or-death climax. Sometimes all it takes to save a life is a ride to a hard to reach hospital in a forgotten about countryside, which might seem mundane to us, but a miracle to others.

Ryan Skelton; Co-owner Wanderlust Adventures
Tuesday, June 24th
La Bomba

Life is contrived of continuous circumstances that constantly shape and define us into who we are. There are those who wait desperately for those moments that are going to alter their lives forever. There is an internal cluster of hope that impatiently waits for that opportunity to change your life’s course for the better. I have found that the longer I wait for those “life-changing” experiences to occur, the more melancholy I become. My confidence slowly expires. My regrets double. My failures come to a complete stop which in turn means that my goals are not being reached. My life turns into a mundane existence that is set on repeat every twenty four hours.
I do not want to co-exist; I want to illuminate. My aim is to immerse myself into situations that have the potential to make my existence unforgettable. I want to learn patience by persevering through incidents-- and not by waiting on the chance to persevere. Life can be worth the journey. But it’s entirely up to you.
Today I gained an appreciation for those who dedicate their lives to a cause of worth. As our small group traveled down a lonely dirt road, I couldn’t help but to be anxious for our arrival. There is no need to go into details of the setting because you already have an image in your mind as to what an orphanage entails. The thing that made an impression on my soul was the fact that everyone was all smiles. The owners of this orphanage were an incredibly positive and inspiring couple. To be in such good spirits, with the knowledge of what these kids have already endured, is a feat in itself. As I learned their stories, my emotions traveled from curiosity to malice to empathy. Quickly I turned my emotion to relief—that these children had somehow made their way into the lives of this couple.
A young, weightless boy rested in my arms for about an hour as I listened to how he and his twin sister had been born to a sixteen year old girl. The orphanage was going to act as foster care for this young teen until she could support herself and the children. The young mother went off into the mountains to find lost family that could be of some use in making her life a success story. Instead she was met by a gang of uneducated criminals that had nothing better to do with their time than rape and kill her. Those twins will never be held by their mother again.
There was one little girl that was hiding in a corner in her flowery dress that gave a new meaning to the saying “pretty in pink”. She had sad eyes-but a hopeful smile. If her biological mother would have know how beautiful she would become, would she have left her to rot in a garbage can with the ants feeding at her skin?
I was told of another child’s recurring nightmares. She was already haunted by actual ghosts of her past and she was not even four years of age. Her second year of life had been spent being sold on the streets for sexual purposes by her mother that claimed to be a witch. Occurrences like this make an anger sweep over me like no other. But I can’t allow myself to be overcome by hatred or my time loathing will outweigh my time helping. Then what good would I be?
The last girl I will mention spent the first ten minutes sizing me up from behind an overgrown shrub. After I inquired about her past, I wondered how much she remembered. I worried if she had flashbacks of being clinched by her mother as they rode on horseback, struggling to outrun her enraged father. The father was chasing them down with a machete because he did not give her permission to take the baby to the orphanage. But the mother did not want her baby to share the same fate as her first born child. Details on the death of the first born were scarce; but ended with the fact that after its death, it was unburied by roaming dogs and chewed apart in the backyard.
As we drove away from the compound, my first human instinct of guilt swept over me. A hundred questions flooded my head and all I could think of is “why?” I decided that if I spent all my time pondering the question of “why”—then I would never have time to answer the questions like “how- can I help?” The couple that operates the orphanage have dedicated their precious lives to answering the question “how can I help?” Their perseverance captivates me. Their dedication is jaw dropping. Their patience encourages me. Their ability to stop at nothing inspires me.
It’s times like today that bring me out of co-existing into LIFE.

My quote of the day: “Travel produces a temporary inspiration that is sustained only with vision.” -s. skelton
Starla Skelton-owner of Wanderlust Adventures
June 26th, 2008
Villa Nuria