the wander project dispatches from over there

Delays are an inevitable part of travel—especially when you’re planning to be on the road for a year. I’ve been forced to postpone my trip until July, and I was pretty bummed about it.

But if everything had gone as planned, I’d have landed in an ash-coated Guatemala City courtesy of Pacaya volcano, which erupted on Thursday. If that weren’t enough, my arrival would’ve coincided perfectly with tropical storm Agatha, which has dumped three feet of rain on the region and caused widespread flooding, massive mudslides and over 100 deaths in Guatemala and El Salvador.

Suddenly, postponing the trip until the dust (and water) clears doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

I’m reminded of a story about a guy who went to the church I attended growing up. Mr. Henriksen was a cheerful gent who spoke with clipped inflection imparted by his Swedish parents, two of the thousands funneled through Ellis Island in 1912. On the day they were scheduled to cross the Atlantic, they were told that the ocean liner they’d booked was oversold — they’d have to postpone their trip.

It turns out that their ruined plans spared them from disaster: The ship they’d originally booked was the RMS Titanic, which crashed into an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic in a tragedy that killed 1,517 passengers.

The Henriksen’s experience started out normally enough. How many of us haven’t been furious about a delayed departure, an overbooked flight or a full train?  But more often than not, these changes-of-plan end up offering more enriching experiences— and who knows, whether by blind luck, good karma or divine providence, they just might keep us safe.

Of course, the rational side of me realizes that the Henriksens could have just as easily ended up on the Titanic as a result of an overbooked ship the week before. My delay, which seems fortuitous now, could put me in the middle of a more powerful storm when I do make it to Central America.

But travel, I think, is an optimist’s pursuit.

*UPDATE*
I’ve been in touch with a language school in Antigua, a colonial city 30 miles from Guatemala City, where I’d hoped to take Spanish classes. The Administrator there assures me that the school (and Antigua in general) were unaffected by the volcano and the tropical storm, so I’ll carry on with my plan to estudiar Espanol with them. Sure, the trip to Antigua from Guatemala City might be a bit of an adventure, but isn’t that the nature of Chicken Buses anyway? Language schools are a huge part of the economy in many areas of the country, and Guatemala needs our support (and tourist dollars) now more than ever.