I’ve spent the last few days locked in a holding pattern – somewhere between relaxing and a total chilled-out state. I sleep in a quiet courtyard room at a guesthouse where I believe I am the only paying guest. The only drawback being the hot shower that has two settings: cold and colder. My bed is made every day and I have fresh towels when I return from wandering around the town, markets and nearby towns.

I’ve become good friends with a few of the long-term guests over at Café No Se, thanks to the tip from fellow vagabonder Timo (355days.net). I have been told that I broke the group’s “no new friends policy,” but that doesn’t seem to matter anyone, especially the Café’s house dog, who has become quite fond of sleeping at my feet. We’re all part of the same breed in many ways, the only difference is that I have to go home at some point and this is their home. It’s been suggested that I should simply stay. Tempting. Very tempting considering they have standing poker games every Sunday and Wednesday nights. Plus, my team finished in third place at Pub Trivia on Sunday night – that’s a pretty high honor around here.

I spent the weekend exploring the inside of Antigua. And by that, I mostly mean that I’ve explored the inside of every local bar, restaurant and café. My guides, Brandon, Noel, Patrick and Beau make up the most eclectic group of people I’ve met in my life. Brandon runs Pub Trivia and a few other small operations around town. He moved down here three years ago after selling his business. Born in Scotland, he’s the self-proclaimed town drunk. He’s also a fighter, not a lover. Noel has been bouncing around the world for the past 15 years setting up excursion programs for Universities in the US. She’s setting up a base here in Antigua. New Castle, England’s own Patrick has been here for a few years, as well. He turns 61 next month and words can’t really do justice to his fantastic personality. Beau? I’m not sure anyone knows how old Beau is. If it gives us any clues, he left Ohio during WWII, and as they say, “once you show the farm boy Paris, he can never go back.” His kids still think he’s in Belize.

I left the group behind yesterday so they could get their work done and so I could see the Volcano’s outside of the city. The area is surrounded on each side by a different volcano – one of which is still active. There are daily excursions to the top of the mountain that leave at 6:00 am. Not wanting to hike up the hill that time of the day, I hired a horse and guide to ride up the volcano instead. We had a wonderful 3 hour trip that took us through some of the outlaying towns, up into the hills. My knees and back … backside were feeling it when I got up this morning. It was a great way to see the area, even if my body doesn’t have the natural padding it should to handle such a ride.

But with every positive experience in life, there must always be a negative. It’s nature’s way of balancing out.

I got up early this morning, dropped off my laundry, checked my email and headed to the outside of town to hike up a local hill that overlooks the city. I packed up my bag and headed off before the sun became too hot. The trail is hard to find, as it’s not marked and the trees and brush hide it from the road. Once I found it, I started to hike what seemed like 60 degrees straight up. It was dry dirt and gravel which made it rather difficult at times to get to the next level. After about 100 meters, I picked up the sight of someone coming up from behind me. He was a bit behind me and I didn’t really want to stick around to find out if he wanted to chat about last night’s Monday Night Football game.

My body has been cramping up a bit from the altitude of the city (5,000+ feet) not to forget the fact that most of my liquid consumption over the past few days has been in the form of Gallo and Victoria Beer, instead of water. The 800 milligrams of Advil I took right before I started out hadn’t quite taken effect. It was getting hot, my breathing was becoming more difficult and the shady Guatemalan man following me didn’t do much for my adrenalin levels.

The trail leveled out for a bit, which is when I confirmed that he was definitely following me. Maybe I’m being a bit presumptuous when I say that, it’s just that he didn’t seem to be the type to be looking for a scenic overlook of the city this time of the day. He picked up his pace and started to ask me questions. He asked if I had any cigarettes, if I wanted to buy some marijuana and ultimately he asked me for some money so he could eat. At this point I did a mental calculation of what I had in my pack and what I had to loose if I got mugged. I had about 700Q ($100) in my bag/pockets, my passport, my camera, my tripod, a shirt, my water and … oh, thank goodness, my friend the cobblestone.

After hearing stories from Brandon for a few days about the random violent crime across the city and Guatemala, in general, I had picked myself up a nice rock the night before on my way home. She was a beauty, a little over 2 pounds, well rounded, with a few sharp edges. She fit nicely in my hand and felt like a good security device on my walks home early in the morning. I thought my tripod would have made a good self-defense weapon, but I had to go any buy the most expensive lightweight tripod.

I cut up the hill to a half-hidden trail that was nearly a vertical climb. I remembered all the Viet Nam war movies where seizing the hills would give you the strategic advantage in any combat maneuver. Weighted down, cramping up and fearing for my life, I went as fast as I could before I found a spot where I could stand firmly and toss my bag someplace away from myself. But before doing so, I grabbed my trusty cobblestone and brandished it in my right hand.

This is where my Spanish came back really fast! I was amazed at the things I recalled from those stupid lesson tapes. For anyone who took Spanish, you’ll remember the deep voiced Mexican man that made the classroom rumble when he spoke. I conjured up my deepest Mexican impression and told the guy to stop and not to follow me up the hill. He started to come up after me. And the look on his face was not of someone that wanted to help me find the right trail to the cross at the top. I was too far away at this point to summon any help and I didn’t particularly want to loose my valuables – or life, for that matter.

He was about 3 meters from me when I took my stand and shouted down the hill, “tengo una roca y le mato con ella.” Which, of course should have been, “tengo una roca y le mataré con ella,” but I’m pretty sure Senor Moreno (my Spanish professor) will excuse the grammar mistake. It translates to, “I have a rock and I’ll kill you with it.” There was a stand off for a few very long seconds before I made an aggressive move to pitch the rock down the hill. I wasn’t about to toss the rock and loose my security device, but he didn’t know that. I’m pretty sure he was trying to calculate what it might feel like to get a 2 pound rock thrown in his chest at 60 miles an hour from 10 feet away.

I’m pretty sure that I could have given him a little push had he made any movement towards me, but I didn’t feel like waiting to see what kind of knife or machete he had on him. He took off pretty fast at that point, but I’m positive that he still had bad intent. I gave him a head start before I headed back down the hill. I knew there was a good chance that he and his friends would be waiting for me if I stuck around much longer.

I’m a little bummed that I didn’t get to go up to the top of the hill and see the view. But being dead would have been a bigger buzz kill.

Needles to say, I’ll be buying Brandon his drinks tonight for the self-defense stories and advice he’s given me. As for the crazy Guatemalans that prey on others, know that I would have defended myself to the utmost extent. On a philosophical note, I now know that humans will do what they need to do to survive – intent will conquer over everything, any day. In this case, my intent was to come out with what I went up the hill with.

For now, I’m going to enjoy a nice Guatemalan BBQ and think about what my next adventure might be. As for my best friend, the cobblestone? She’ll be coming with me on my travels and will be the best souvenir ever.