The Case Against Backpacking

One night, while backpacking in Guatemala, I was woken up by a pain in my leg. Nearly bumping my head against the upper bunk of the hostel bed, I pulled away the blanket only to find nothing. Confused, I tried going back to sleep, but couldn’t. The pain was still there, and getting worse. Certain I’d been bitten or stung, I got up to properly shake out the blanket, and onto the floor dropped a small, brown scorpion.

Half an hour later, I was on the back of a moped, zigzagging past stray dogs towards the home of the village doctor. But although the nearest hospital was hours away and my throat was starting to go numb, I wasn’t afraid so much as excited. This, I thought, was exactly why I’d come to Guatemala in the first place, and I couldn’t wait to tell people about it.