Winter is absolutely my favorite time of year in New Hampshire. Sure, Autumn is beautiful in myriad colors, and spring is lovely; everything dead bursting into life. But winter is hushed and peaceful and never fails to charm me. I was packing last night for a trip to the winter wonderland that is NH in December, dreaming of all the snowboarding and sledding and snowman making I would soon be doing when I received a text from the Peace Corps security officer saying something to the effect of "DON'T TRAVEL, protests and roadblocks likely!" I panicked, picturing myself missing my flight. So I scrambled and asked friends and neighbors how to get to the city in time to catch my flight- the 1am night-bus en-route from mexico was the only offered solution (other volunteers affectionately refer to it as the "cocaine train" because there's no way you'd drive or ride on it unless you were on cocaine).
I quickly gathered my belongings, shut my eyes for an hour of sleep and then schlepped my giant bag down to the bottom of the hill where the buses from Mexico pass. The bus arrived only minutes later and I was ushered onto what was the most luxurious bus I've seen yet in this country. This magical midnight bus spirited me away, flying gleefully through the darkened Guatemalan towns I usually curse for standing between me and the end of my journey. I arrived in Antigua without a hitch, dropped my bags at my hostel and after a cup of coffee and a check of the ole-email am off for a full day of Christmas shopping and friend visiting. Thank you, delightful mystery bus for saving my Christmas spirit. If, the next time I rise in the middle of the night to take a bus to the city, the midnight express doesn't arrive, I won't be surprised...maybe it was just Christmas miracle.
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