Well I did it. I’m here. I crossed the invisible plane and entered foreign territory and let my feet wander new ground. I slept in a bed that smelled like mildew and was freezing half the night and got angry at the noises of other people in the hostel after 9pm. I remembered that this is all part of the process. I trepidatiously made plans for the next three (3!!) nights, and then only thought to check the weather after I booked. I crossed my fingers that a week straight of 100% chance of rain really only means an afternoon shower. I trusted that even if it doesn’t, I’ll find something I need.
Walking inside to get coffee just now, I overheard two other backpackers discussing their plans. Both in perfect, accented English. One German, the other indistinct. European, probably. But meeting in this Central American country, speaking English, plotting their journeys.