However, hiking that mountain was the only "activity" we had planned, besides sleeping in, sleeping on the beach, drinking on the beach, and drinking in bed. So we paid our deposit, packed up our water bottles and headed for the hike.
The hike was beautiful but VERY challenging. We were sweating, it was humid, and our guide was scaling that mountain like he does it twice a day. BECAUSE SOMETIMES HE CLIMBS 2,000 FT ABOVE SEA LEVEL TWICE IN ONE DAY.
|Not shown: sweat, mud, and BO|
After two and a half hours of uphill climbing and crawling, we made it to the top. As I'm taking in the beautiful scenery and a sense of accomplishment, I hear a familiar sound. Am I hallucinating? Am I not a mountain, but actually dancing in my seat to Taylor Swift while driving along the PA turnpike? No, I am definitely on the top of a beautiful, serene mountain and another hiker is blasting "Love Story" from her phone.
To be clear, I love Taylor Swift as much as the next happily married 31-year old woman (What? Not her demographic?), but even I have my limits. And my limit is when I am actively trying to enjoy nature, I do not need to listen to Tay-Tay to escape. I have already escaped. I am in a foreign country, surrounded by people I don't know, seeing sights I've not seen before. Mission accomplished.
OK, I thought, no big deal. This chick and her boyfriend will start hiking before us and then hopefully we will be far enough behind that I won't be able to hear these catchy tunes and instead I will again be lost in the sound of the wind and rustling of leaves. Unfortunately, we could hear the songs (from just about every TS album) until we reached the summit (another two hours).
I guess God was punishing me for making my husband listen to Taylor Swift on the long rides to Ohio. Lesson learned!