A few years ago, I started a sharing a series of stories in my newsletter. Now, I am making those stories and the practices for better living available here. I call this series Lessons for Living.

how walking works as a cure-all

The passage of time was tracked by the changing light between, and if ever a slight chill in the air as the evening drew in, so being forced off my bus on the way to the airport by men wielding machine guns was a rude awakening. 

This was the first leg of my journey around the world. I was new to this back-packing thing and had chosen to follow the advice and skip Guatemala City. So, on landing at the airport of Guatemala City, I simply boarded another tiny plane to Flores to visit the ancient ruins of Tikal. At the airport I had already met 2 people staying in the same guest house and a New Zealander who with 6 days to spare and nothing planned decided to tag along with us. All these chance encounters and ‘coincidences’ resulted in me feeling that, whatever the situation, I would somehow find a way to navigate my way through this adventure!

A few days after my visits in Tikal, I confidently declined the offer for a taxi or airport transfer and instead opted to head back towards the airport on the local bus. I smiled as I looked around, noticing that I was the only tourist. After a while, however, it became clear something was off. The bus slowed, navigating some massive rocks in the middle of the road until they blocked the passage completely. The rocks had been placed there by militia and men with machetes and machine guns came to the door of the bus and insisted we all get off.

When I thought I would be able to navigate situations as they arose, THIS was NOT what I had envisaged.

Now my massive back pack and the fact that I was easily 20cm (9 inches) taller than anyone else on the bus, i.e. my tourist status made me feel very self-conscious. At that moment, I was sure that if they wanted to make a point I would be a good candidate to help raise their political stakes. To this day I have no idea what the people on that road were protesting, all I wanted to do was appear as inconspicuous as I could and reach the airport… I could see the airport up ahead in the distance. In the same way that little kids close their eyes and think you can’t see them, I lowered my gaze and just started walking hoping no one would stop me.  Terrified and grateful that no one said anything or tried to stop me, I just kept walking.  It was hot under the Guatemalan sun and I had not packed anticipating long walks so my bag weighed on me but in that moment I only cared that my legs would carry me the distance to the airport.

With each step I could feel that my ability to breath was coming back. With each step the “worst-case scenario” thoughts that were buzzing round my head seemed to slow and become a little less loud. With each step, I could see myself getting closer to the airport and with each step forward I took that paralyzing fear  I felt started to wane. I was so relieved to have the energy, power and training to walk.

I reached and crossed the border fence of the airport, thankful that the men with machine guns were far behind me.  Exhausted and overheated I breathed a massive sigh of relief and even as I type today, many years later, I can feel the tears well up at the sense of relief I felt in that moment.