Sandra's Travelogogram

Colombia: Santa Marta, Ciudad Perdida

2009-02-14T00:21:00.023Z

From now on I have to follow a well thought out path of descent through South America. There is no room for backtracking or waste of money. Everything will have to be rapid and economical. I hate that. But it’s my own fault. I hate being tied to a date of return. I loved the freedom of not knowing. The liberty of no plan is tincture for my soul. It allows me to breath. The pressure is now on and I feel the party is over. I am at the end way too soon

27th Jan. I got into Santa Marta airport and a little bus took me into the centre of town. I met this man called Alonso, He showed me to the tour agency where I was to buy the trip to go to the Ciudad Perdida (The lost city). This is one of the main reasons tourists come here. He then shows me to the hostel, I want. It is owned by a relative, so he knows it well. I get to my dorm. It is probably one of the worst dorms I have had ot be in. The shower is within the dorm but just a plastic curtain barely hanging on the rail, another curtain barely obscuring anyone using the toilet. I won’t be using these facilities. Thank god there are others more private ones outside. I end up chatting to this lovely German boy. He is debating whether he goes to Central America to do a project he is interested in but also is near his ex girlfriend whom he wants to get back with or go on travelling south. It is a big debate but If eel he will go to the ex girlfriend even though she is now with someone else. He wants to tell her he loves her and that he should have let her know. But I advise as best I can and mostly I just listen. Later a girl(Miriam) comes in and I find out hat she has just been dumped by her boyfriend. God what a dorm of broken hearts but we chat and befriend each other and I her give her advice too. God I feel like a right agony aunt but I do enjoy these chats. I go to get food with the German and some Colombians who have come here for holiday.
Next day I talk to Miriam more and we hang out together. She is at a loss as to what to do so I say why not come to the lost city. It appeals to her and so we go and book. We bargain as hard as we can but it is still $125. Oh this is expensive. But it is something I have wanted to do all my trip. I have heard many great thigns about it.

Next morning, we arrive at the designated time. However we wait for ages. Alonso, comes by and chats to me. He is a real interesting chap. He shows tells me how he was an extra for 6 months in the movie “The Mission” with Robert Dinero. I have seen it but a long time ago it was huge in the 80s. He is very proud of this and shows me photographs of him and the cast and of course Dinero himself. Alonso says Deniro was lovely a real gentleman. Alonso played a missionary who is killed and had to do several takes at a time before the Directors approval. They spent 3 months in Santa Marta and another 3 months in Cartegena filming. The waterfall screen was apparently in Uruguay. IT is amazing here you are in this small town and you meet a person who has been in a Hollywood movie.

After 2 hours we finally find out that the truck had broken down. Hence the delay. Our truck is a cross between an old land rover and a bus. It has no glass. There are 13 of us. This causes some confusion as there is only supposed to be 12. They have forgotten me and lost my passport copy. 13 doesn’t bode well.
We bus along the highway for over an hour then we hit the entrance to the park where we are met by some very juvenile military. We have to show them all our bags and the list of our names and our passport numbers. Then we start motoring the worse road I have ever been on in my life. I have no idea how the driver does this every day. Miriam is at the window, probably the worst place to sit, so sees the whole thing. Sees how close we are top the sheer drops, with inches to spare for the wheel on the road. I don’t feel scared. I am not close to the window. However, lots of oh gods emanate from Miriam. Deep ruts mark the road. Some about a foot deep. The truck leans left, then right into the ruts. Sometimes as it hits nearly a 45 degree angle, I fear it will overturn, it leans that much.

I sat by the window for a while and I was ok but still, I held my breath when we go too close to the edge. It was hairy. Sometimes we have to get out as the road is too bad and we walk for a few minutes. At one point it was just the girls who were left in the truck We had to move from side to side to balance the truck as we moved painstakingly slowly up the path. At times the engine practically breathed fire as it skidded in the soft mud. We cold almost feel the breakpads burning and stunned they made it or indeed the engine. I should enquire the maker of the engine, because it certainly deserves an award.

And I thought my old jobs were stressful. This is coronary inducing. Hats off to the driver, a remarkable skilled man. Although I seriously doubt I will want to come down in this. An hour and a half later we are at the village, the start of the trek. We are fed a beautiful lunch and then we begin the 3 hour trek…UP.

Both Miriam and I were worried about our fitness. We are not fit. We figure we will be last so have agreed to keep each other company at the back of the group. However, although, we are not going at a very fast pace, we make it to the front relatively quickly and lead the trek for most of the way until dark. This is when my night sight hampers me and then I am last. The views up are wonderful. And the guides lay on freshly cut oranges for us at different break points or fruit juice. Wow this is luxury trekking. Although at times there was a struggle with walking when it got too steep and muddy. Miriam and I find it easier to be in front of the others as we set our own pace. We are neither held back or hold anyone back which is nice. When we are behind someone a lotl slower, we loose momentum and the will to carry on sometimes.

About 6 or we finally get to our first accommodation. The porters have arrived. Some of the group wash in the river. I try to have a shower. Needless to say it is cold. Oh it hurts. But I am clean at least. Dinner is wonderful and we get biscuits at the end. They give us hot mate de Coca which is tea made from just he fresh leaves of the coca plant. A gentleman arrives and offers to take us to a cocaine making factory. Hoever it is 30 pesos and so expensive so no one takes up the option. We find out that Hunter one of the group, fell and the only thing that saved him from a drop to the ground 20/30 feet or more below was that he had the wherewithal to grab a root that took his weight. He was so lucky.
Our sleeping accommodation is a hammock covered in mosquito net. But it is bed and I take to it gladly and sleep like a log.

The 2nd day of the trek we get up early. It is not as bad today more mixed ups and downs. Still the day is tough but we get to our destination after about 3 hours. Well Miriam and I do. Some of the others take quite a while longer. We get to swim in a river this time to cool down. As the sun is out, we sunbath on rocks on the rivers edge. It is delicious. WE have the place to ourselves for about 30 minutes. There is a very strong current in the river so we are warned where not to swim. But we get to jump off the rocks in to the cool water.

This time we get to sleep in beds. The porters again are preparing lunch and it again is delicions. Our group is a motley crew. WE have Emily, Carmen travelling together and who met Conrad a few stops ago all from London. Then Stephen from Chicago, whom the londoners met along the way too. They are a tight group of 4. Then there is the Swiss man and his Peruvian girlfriend. They are a lovely couple but I can’t remember their names. Then Ánne form Sweden. Camila from Bogotá originally but brought up mostly in Europe. First of all Amsterdam then London. She speaks fluent English and Dutch and god knows what else besides her native Spanish. She is an absolute doll. I gel with her instantly and we have a good laugh over the trek. Then there is the 3 Americans. Hunter is a hippy type but more in the vein of Jim Morrison. Then there is Frank and his friend. Both are more conservative but still ok. Although Frank and I get off on the wrong foot due to our very different attitudes to Cuba. He is of Cuban descent. We chat in different groups. Miriam who speaks very good Spanish chats with the Peruvian and Swiss. I chat more with Camila or the Londoners or sometimes Anne.
We meet other groups too that are doing the same trek as us.

The 3rd day again, we get up early, Breakfast includes eggs and hot chocolate and coffee. It is filling and good “marching food” as Conrad puts it. Miriam and I head off fairly quickly as we don’t want to be caught behind. We struggle at times as we are fighting a high altitude, our own tiredness and sometimes the steepness is vicious. Add to that, deep wet mud. It is not an easy trek. But we have sense of achievement at the end of it.

Today though, the guide John who lead us on the first day, again helps us today. He guides us to the crossings; we are to take across the river. He goes in Wellingtons and all and stands and holds each of us as we pass the rushing forceful flow of the river. He is not much taller or heavier than I, yet he is able to help us all. It is sometimes hard to keep ones balance and I nearly loose it at one stage. Lucky I have put my camera and those of a few others into my watertight bag. We have 7 or 9 river crossings. We loose count, so we cant get to far ahead of the group. So we wait for them to catch up. The last leg is the worst. Approximately 1018 steps to the top to the actual city itself. Oh god it was tough. And it starts raining to make it all the worse. I got to the city first. Well the first main platform. I took photos of the others coming up. They came laden with their rucksacks, head down, spirit withering with the sheer struggle of the steepness and sheer amount of steps. But we feel invigorated when we get to the top. We are there. We have done the worst of it. Although I begin to wonder where the city is, I await enlightenment.
We get to our camp. There are a lot of soldiers around apparently to protect the tourists from terrorists. Some years ago FARC, kidnapped some tourists and kept them for a few months. It is raining hard. So we dont bother exploring. We just chill, nap, read, chat.
The 4th day, Walter our lead guide, takes us around the city. The city is just platforms. There are one or town houses but these are the Indigenous houses and are lived in. We see some plants etc and he tells us about various rock sculptures and a map created by the Tayronas in the 11th-14th centuries. Much of the city has been reclaimed by the jungle and there is lush vegetation all round. It is beautiful, although, I was expecting a bit more from this lost city. I guess I am a bit disappointed. Still it has been an amazing trek and the group and guides have been fabulous.

We have a second night in the same accommodation.

Day 5, we are off early after breakfast. We have to do 4/5 hours down as we skip the 2nd accommodation. It is tough and muddy as it has rained quite a lot over the last few days. Well it is the rainy season. We are filthy at the end of it and have to wash off in the river. I don’t bother with the shower. Both are freezing so why not take the easy option.

Day 6. We think, as it is downhill, we will get it done in 2 hours. Ha the joke was on us. Due to the extreme muddiness it takes us a lot longer. A bit over 3 hours. WE at times nearly fall in the slippyness of the mud or sink into its mire. But eventually we get to the village. Where again they have prepared a lovely lunch, which we devour.

Then it is onto the truck. I really dont want tot get on. I know now what awaits. I get the chance when the truck stops to help another broken down vehickle, to walk for 30 minutes solo. Miriam walks with me but eventually gives up. I am by the window but this time I am not so calm. When the truck stopped, It gave some of its screws to another truck S far as I can see one of the wheels just has one nut holding it to the truck. This makes me nervous, as I sense the driver is too. I have confidence in him but no longer in our truck. Especially, when he sends the guide out every 20 minutes to check and tighten the screw on the wheel. But eventually we make it to the entrance intact, where the military await to check us again. It is a cursory check and we are off back to Santa Marta along a nice tarmaced road. Phew.
We day our goodbyes to all the others, as each is going to a separate place. Miriam and I go back to the shoddy dorm. We wash and go for food. Later we meet the Peruvian and Swiss and have a few juices etc with them in a nearby café .
Miriam and I are quite proud of ourselves. We thought we would be so unfit but we did well. It has been great for her confidence and mine too.
Next day we head to

04 Feb
We head to Bogota together Miriam and I. Then we part. She goes to her friends and I go to a hostel in the old quarter.

Costa Rica, costa costa

2009-02-14T00:20:00.009Z

21 Jan. hadnt realised I had used so much money so had to go to a bank. This delayed me setting off. I was not able to get a direct bus to Costa Rica, so was taking a lot of local buses. I got a bus to Rivas after an hour, then a taxi to the border really rapidly, which made up time. I was through the border crossing by 10.30 am. I was doing well. However, that´s when it all went wrong. I was in a puddle of people for about 30 minutes before I realised they all had a ticket for the next bus to San Jose (Capital of Costa Rica). It was so not obvious. I then found the ticket office after a few false starts. The queue was not even moving and the buses filled up with the leftovers from earlier. It was a nightmare.

I eventually took a bus to a city to a town in between in the vain hope that there might be another bus to San Jose from there. However when I got there the next bus was cancelled and I would have to wait a few hours. It would not have been so bad if I was not meeting another friend in San Jose at 3pm. I really thought I would be through the border by then. God I was so wrong. I didnt have any number to ring David to let him know I would be late. I had forgotten to take the number of the hostel from Matt the night before.

Anyway I got to San Jose eventually. Another dodgy city with an even dodgier bus station. I was nervous but I was dropped off at a private terminal and got a lady taxi driver to the hostel.
As if the day hadn´t been bad enough, the hostel knew nothing of David AND their internet was down. However, then it came up and I was able to see that David had booked into a hostel down the road and had tried the hostel we had agreed on but it was booked according to the website.

The owners of the hostel were surprised at this and realised there was a problem so it helped them to know this, so they could fix it and 2 of them kindly walked me to the other hostel. David was there and had been worried as I was supposed to have been there hours ago. I felt bad. But we chatted for hours, as to what to do and finally settled on going to the beach and to get the 6am bus. Oh that was going to hurt, as we then realised the time it was 1.30am. We retired to the dormitory.

22Jan

At 5 we were off and got the bus to Puerto Viejo de Talamanca. God were so glad we did. We arrived at 10am to glorious sunshine and walked along the coastal path, looking for accomadation. Even though it had not been the plan, we ended up at the party hostel. Johnnys. Well it was cool. They have tents instead of rooms. Not very cheap but it sufficed. We went to get some food, as we were ravenous. Had a nice sandwich amd fresh juice.

We then went off exploring the beach. It was pretty. We walked for miles. We even found some fresh coconuts and David cracked them open with his knife. The beach was miles long. Each corner seemed to provide some lovely vistas or beautiful trees, plants etc. Just beautiful long stretches of beach, as far as the eye could see. A good antedote to all my bus travelling.

That night we went around town and had a local coctail in one of the bars. It is a very laid back place. A carribiean vibe permeates. Although it was not the cheapest place it was lovely.

23Jan
We rented some snorkelling gear and headed to one of calmer areas. We stopped off at the supermarkets and bought some goodies for a picnic. We hunted for some more fresh green coconuts and after we had demolished the contents, we used the coconuts to mix a salsa of onions, tomatoes and coriander. Oh my god it was soooo good. One of the best picnics I have had. We tried snorkelling but the sea was too rough for much. Still we got to see a few things.

That night we cooked some fresh fish we had bought and some more fresh salsa. Had a really nice dinner. Sleep was hard to come by though, as there was a lot of noise and then torrential rain started. Pretty cool though.

24Jan

On Sunday walking along the beach, I saw this lady talking fotos so being curious, I looked to see of what. About 10 or so rather large birds were standing on the beach with their wings outstretched, drying them in the warm morning sun. It was an amazing sight.

We, had another lovely breakfast of Bagels, cream cheese, and juice. And of course a coffee to feed Davids addiction. Then it was off on the bus back to San Jose, Goodbyes to David who had to go back to his massage course in Heridia and I went back to the hostel. A bit of an anti-climax after a nice weekend at the beach. Also it was probably the last time I would meet someone from Xela again. I was now not planning to meet anyone for the rest of my trip which kind of left a gap after being so long with people I had come to know. In kinda felt a bit empty.

25Jan
Monday day I hunted San Jose, for boots. Finally found a pair after lunch which gave me a few hours to explore the tourist sites. I saw the main plazas and walked around the center of the city. It has a few nice parts but not a city I could spend a lot of time in. I had really wanted to see the Jade musuem but it was closed. Got a taxi back to the hostel.

26Jan

Tuesday early I was off on the flight via Panama again... to Santa Marta, Colombia.

Antigua, Goodbyes, dissapointment & reaquainting with friends and Nicaragua

2009-02-14T00:19:00.013Z

17Jan
I arrived in aitigua and got a hostel fairly quickly. I wandered around town. At first it struck me how many tourists and most especially tour buses are here, compared to other places I have been. I found it distasteful. However walking around I escaped the hoards and found rather a beautiful city, well restored and maintained. I looked for hiking boots, none to be found.

I found a cheap place for tacos and all was well. I met this Guatemalan who had lived in America for some time but had now come back to Antigua. He was a tour guide and told me that the lava at the volcano I wanted to go to, had stopped flowing 3 days earlier and the flow had moved to a further location. He did recommend some places to find boots though.

18Jan Next day, I took the early bus to Guatemala city. Had to get a rather expensive taxi to a shopping mall but no go. After searching a few malls and the area in Guatemala centre, I gave up and tried to do a few tourist things. There wasnt a lot to see in Guatemala city but it wasnt as ferocious as many people had indicated. But the museums cost a fortune and as I didnt have much time I skipped them. Then it was the bus back to Antigua.

19Jan I wandered around town looking for a tour to take me up the volcano and a bus to take me to Nicaragua. There were conflicting stories about possible buses. Anyway, I found a bus and a tour company.

That afternoon I waited for the bus to take me to Pacaya Volcano and hopefully some lava. It took a few hours to get to the spot where we started to climb. The views were pretty spectacular and the path to the volcano was over previous lava flows that had now cooled to a brittle black. Some of it warm.

Our guide threw some leaves into a crack in the lava with a little steam coming from it. We could see and hear the leaves crackling and eventually they went on fire with the heat from the lava underneath. Some people even had marshmallows to roast over some of the hotter cracks. I could feel my soles softening with the heat. So we wandered around aimlessly. The guide didnt try very hard to do anything and we were not walking to anywhere else in search of flowing lava. I was gutted. I asked the guide about it moving but he claimed to know nothing and was completely disinterested. It was somewhat a of a waste of money and I would have skipped Antigua if I had known the lava had stopped. Balls.

Anyway later I went to a nice restaurant, owned by a piano playing El Salvadorean and had a wonderful vegetarian Thai Curry. Ah bliss. He was a chatty owner and liked the fact I was Irish. He studied and lived in England for some years and had some Irish friends there. He liked the accent. Later he was asking me how long I was around. The way he was asking, I was not sure if he was going to offer me a job or ask me out. Anyway I was leaving the next day so it was a mute point. I went to bed early as I had to be up for 2am.

20Jan. At 2.45am I was in a taxi on the way to the bus to Nicaragua. At 5am I was in the bus. I was saying goodbye to Guatemala.

It was a long day and traffic was not good, so arrived in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua at 7,30. It was late! I missed the collectivos so had to take a taxi to the bus station. A place you are advised not go to after dark. I had no choice. Luckily the taxi brought me to the bus I needed but it was not leaving for over an hour.

I chatted to the driver for a while but it was a long hour and a half. 2 other passengers came in and engaged the driver in a chat as well. I saw this guy come in selling orange juice, then he came again about 10 minutes later. It was odd, then I heard the others on the bus say he was a bad man. Then the converstation changed and turned to this robbery where some guy had a machete held to him and had his rucksack taken from him. They all looked at me and decided it was better if my rucksack was on the ground out of sight. Great!. I slunk down even further into the seat, I occupied, to obcure myself from view and wished we were on our way. But then we were off and all was good until I got to Grenada station. Deserted. I was the only passenger left. I ran to a taxi outside but the driver was absent. But I figured it was safer to stand next to it so people would think I was getting into it. However, when I tried to flag down other taxis they wouldnt stop as they thougth I had a taxi. Oh fab! So I had to move and eventually, a taxi stopped and took me to the hotel where a friend Matt from Xela was staying. Matt was no where to be found. It was 10pm. I was chatting to my new roomates though and then Matt came in. He was glad to see I had arrived safely. We arranged to meet tomorrow evening, as he was off on one of his hikes the next day.

I met some interesting people in the hostel and talked about all sorts of things from reincarnation to previous relationships. It was that wide a conversation spectrum. By the time Matt had rested after his hike, there wasnt many restaurants to choose from but we found one and then went for delicious icecreams after. Matt brought me to a bar/club he had found and funnily it was one of the few I had been to the first time I was here.

I said my goodbyes as I was off early.

December in Xela

2009-02-09T01:01:00.035Z

One of my objectives of staying in Xela was to improve my Spanish. So I spent a few weeks going to different places like cafes, the library around Xela or stayed in the hostel studying. I feel I am getting to grips with my verbs but any break at all and it is forgotten again. Still I was progressing albeit very slowly. I also gave a few English lessons to some of the staff too.

Over the weeks, I became especially friends with a good group, Bill, Kaliegh, Matt, Ashley. We often cooked dinners together and shared cooking tips and ideas. It was great fun. The conversations that we had in the hostel often left us in stiches. Some people came back for a few days, like Gina, Chris, Michelle, then dissapeared again. Lori came back for good.

We often did shopping together in the markets around Xela. Our favourite and the biggest being La Democracia. It was a huge, mostly outdoor market, where various vendors, usually Mayan sold vegetables, fruit and everything else besides. I loved going to the market. Although sometimes I got tired of always getting a price different i.e. higher, than the locals. So that meant bargaining for your food. Still the food was always fresh and I got to taste a lot of local foodstuffs.

Ashley had learned to cook Tomales, this is a dough mixture made with cornflour and herbs and what ever else you want to add. She taught me and from then on I made batches every few days to eat for breakfast. I really enjoyed making them and cooking with the others. I decided to make my own type of tomales, by adding sweet corn, bacon, chillies, peas etc. They were delicious even if I do say so myself. Especially with hot chilli sauce. Oh I can taste them now hmmmmm. I used have at least 2 each morning hot from the microwave.

I kept at the salsa for quite a while. What I liked about learning salsa with Matt was we had a laugh and we encouraged each other. If one of us didn’t pick up what the salsa teacher (Luis) said, the other did. Well sometimes... We both took little bits of what Luis said and when we tried dancing, we put the 2 of our memories together. We often got it completely wrong but we laughed with no recriminations or criticisms. We were both there to learn to salsa and nothing else. If we couldn’t do it, we asked Luis or one of the others. I had several partners and it was interesting to see the personalities come out in the dance. I had danced with some local boys in the class. They were often late teens or early 20s. They were just so bored dancing with me and it was made so obvious they would rather be with the young blond gringa over on the other side of the room.

After Matt left, I was often left dancing by myself as the teacher seemed preoccupied with an upcoming competition and class became boring, so I didn’t go to as many. A shame but I wasn’t learning anything anymore. There are only so many times you can go over the steps by yourself and looking at myself in the mirror like some of others did was just not me.

In early December, we all went to the usual Friday night place. Matt came along for a change, as it was his last few days in Xela. Normally he used to study or go hiking. A friend of his arrived called Lari and he introduced us. We hit it off immediately. We found to our delight, that we were both the same age, had left longterm relationships in the last few years and were feeling very similar things about travelling at our age. We had loads of similar attitudes. We also both wanted to have it all, enjoy life and take as much fun out of it as possible. We swapped email addresses and agreed to meet asap. Within a few days, we had our first get together and after that we met at least once a week. Normally just the two of us, to have a girlie chat and swap gossip. I was so delighted to have found her. I hope we can be friends for a long time.

I was falling in love with Xela. The hostel was great as so many cool people booked in and stayed for a few weeks or even months. I had a few really good friends. The talk was challenging and entertaining. I was learning salsa and Spanish. I was liking it so much that I decided to take on paid work to fund a longer stay.
I applied for an English teaching job. I was immediately accepted. I started 3 days later in the "The Best English School". Yes that was it´s name. I had the most lovely bosses. Ileana and her mother, Maria Luz. I was paid 13Q an hour, about 2 dollars but it paid most of my rent.

Life became settled. I hung out with Lari or Ashley in various cafes or bars around town or most often stayed in the hostel and cooked, ate talked with whoever was around. We fell in to the routine of going to La Parranda (another salsa club) on a Wednesday night, La Rumba on a Friday night and Ojala on a Saturday night or the movies depending on the moods. I worked for 4 or 5 hours in the morning teaching English to a great bunch of students. I either had a class with one or 2 people. My students were usually in their early twenties and were often great fun. Sometimes it so didnt feel like work. I could so easily stay here for the long term. I dont know what it is but if you stay longer than 5 days in Xela, you want to stay a LOT longer. It happened to so many people I met. It is warm in the days, and cold in the nights. So it feels alot like home in some respects. Cork that is.

During December, Ashley has become friendly with this guy called Jason. He is a guitarist and has got some gigs at some of the bars around town. One of which was El Cuartitos. One, we like very much and an other is a real local bar called Cafe Classico. We have been to a few of the gigs and they were great. He has a friend called Gordon from Scotland, and we hit it off immediately both being celts. Also Jason has made friends with several people who live permantly in Xela either local or Mexicanos that have moved here. The most notable being the Mex (the owner of the most famous salsa club and my favourite in Xela). He is quite the personality, a rather larger than life kind of guy. And his sidekick Giopete,. wo always makes me laugh, He puts the moves on people but it is always in jest. He is so sweet.

I started to become more friendly with Ashley in early December, as we were 2 of the few non Americans. We also had a similar sense of humour, which helped a lot. also as people were leaving we had less to hang out with.

06Dec

We went to San Francisco del Alto. A village up in the hills that has a famous Friday market. Michelle, Ashley and I made there in the early morning. Michelle wanted to buy some stuff to take home. There was the usual array of food etc. But htis town was also famous for its textiles. There were some beautiful cloths, hand woven and machine produced. The colours were wonderful. Michelle got some nice material. I didnt buy anything as now I have no room in m y bag and I cant afford to send it home at the costs here.

07Dec

With my brand new boots I got in Mexico, I was finally able to go for a hike.

One of the girls (Julia(Swiss/American)), was an avid hiker. She had been volunteering in a clinic for the last 3 months. A really delightful girl. She had hiked an number opf treks and wanted to do one last oen she had not done before she left to go home for Christmas. It was the Fuentes Georgina trek. IT was a 8-10 hour hike throuwh lush mountainside and forest. At the hend of the trail ws the famous Fuentes Georgina hot springs. A great way to end a tough hike.

We got up at about 5am. Were on a bus by 5.30 and at the start of the trek, just as dawn was breaking giving us a good overview of the towns below us.
It was a tough hike but not too bad. Most of it alternating between climbing/descending with bits of flat. We went with Quetzeltrekkers, an agency set up as a charity. All proceeds went to school kids, that could not afford it and the associated orphanage. It was a beautiful day and our 2 guides, provided excellent vegetarian food that satisfied our hunger. We were more or less well matched in walking speed. Although Julia was the best, with Megan a close second, surprising herself. I tailed in around the middle with Mary. Lori beign the shortest was a little more behind.
The views were spectacular. We saw several of the volcanoes in the surrounding countryside. It was breathtaking.. It was also exhausting. It took us 9 hours with a few short breaks and a longer one for lunch, but it was so worth it. Matt had done the bus and a shorter walk and was posing spectacularly, on a rather large rock, within one of the steaming pools in his swim shorts, in relatively plain view, as we descended the last path into the springs. We had to laugh, that was so him. It was so good though to get into the water and soak our aching limbs. Sheer bliss. Although we had to go in with trepidation, staring with our toes, to the main pool as it was boiling. It took about 20 minutes for us to immerse ourselves.
We spent a few hours there alternating between the different temperatures of the pools. But then it was time to go and we all heaped into the back of the open air pickup and covered ourselves with sleeping bags to ward off the chill of the cold air during the 2 hour journey back to Xela. Then it was dinner and bed.

However, over December, we lost various people who had become part of the Don Diego family. They were either heading home to America, or heading on to other countries. It was sad to loose people. Andrew, Matt, Megan, Gina, Chris, Julia, Angela, Noa, Michelle, Bill, Kaliegh many of which had become good friends and left a major gap in the hostel by their absence. However, this gave us a great excuse to have great big communal going away dinners. These were wonderful occasions to mix, laugh, converse often in both Spanish and English as the staff joined us or Marco, a Guatemala student who was studing in Xela.

By Christmas, there was so few of us left and only new guests sporadically filtered in but not in numbers. Of the old gang it was just , Lori, Ashley and I.

As Gordon was leaving with his friend to go to the Lake, we had a dinner party in his house. Bill, Kaliegh, Ashley and I cooked. It was a resounding success. A really great night. We ended up with about 12 people in the end, as the Mex brought some of his pals. Later we hit La Paranda. It was Wednesday after all.

Near Christmas, some of us went to La Democracia to take fotos of the Christmas stalls there. It was heaving. There were 2 or 3 times the normal number of stalls present. There were many vendors selling pine needles, and various other items for cribs. Even selling the cribs themselves or the nativity statures to go into them. The smell of the pine was wonderful and many shops spread it on their doorsteps to attract customers.

The cathedral had a lovely nativity scene. They had built a mini Bethlehem. The church looked beautiful. Over December, there were many religious processions through the town. Beautiful candlelit parades of devotees.

Just 2weeks before Christmas, we had a few interesting people arrive, one of whom was Joshua again from the US, who quickly became part of the clan. He was a good laugh with an alternative way of thinking and prepared to express it, an interesting chap.
Then a week before Christmas, another guy David from San Francisco, A friend of Mary’s, another girl that used be in the hostel. I had met him once, a few weeks before. And Klaus from Germany became a resident.

23December
Originally, Ashley and I were going to go to the Lake for Christmas. However, Ashley came down with a rather bad flu/bug. We left it till the day before Christmas eve to decide but she was still unwell. As David and Klaus were also around we all decided to cook Christmas dinner together. The 4 of us sat down and thought out what we wanted food wise for the next few days and especially Christmas day. We each had slightly different ideas of Christmas, still we were able to settle on things. We found that Ashley, David and I all had a thing about cooking and food and all were Taurean. A bizarre coincidence.

As Ashley was poorly, Klaus, David and I went to La Democracia. David and I only had to say a word or 2 to know what each other meant about what to buy or where to go for it. We were so on the same wavelength about food. If we couldn’t find something we wanted then we bounced ideas around and the creativity just flowed. It was fun.
When we got back we took photos of the 4 of us around our purchases. The 4 of us were really excited about Christmas. Later that evening, Joshua popped in and we all went out to see what the locals did on Christmas eve and to find maybe a bar. We wandered around the central square and the market. People were buying stuff and stalls were open. Lari had invited me and who ever I wanted to her apartment for drinks and to look at the fireworks from her roof terrace. However when we got there she had gone for a walk. We stayed around for an hour or so but then Ashley was not feeling so good so we left. David and I were hoping to see what Midnight mass was like but apparently it was over at 9 or 10pm. That was such a shame.

We dropped Ashley off about 11.30pm at the hostel. The city was like a battle field. The noise was deafening, as local left off fire crackers and fireworks at most houses Joshua, David and I then ran the gauntlet along the streets dodging between different houses, taking our chances as one set of fireworks stopped and before they lit another. I felt I was in World War 2. It was fun and exciting. We ran around the streets, then Joshua had the bright idea of going to La Democracia. I was so up for it so was running ahead with them trailing rapidly behind me. It was so nice to have someone who liked just going with it and seeing what was happening with enthusiasm. I am so fed up with people who hum and hah or are afraid and then u loose the opportunity or I loose my enthusiasm. But the boys were up for anything. We were like a bunch of school kids. In La Democracia it looked like the market had just ended as the vendors were still packing up. I couldn’t believe they were still selling at 11.30/midniught. We missed most of the fireworks but there were still a few people letting some off. We even found a vendor still selling, so bought a set of firecrackers. We divvied them between us and set light. We had such a giggle. Infantile as it was, it made our night.

We were a little hungry so sat at this little stall and had hot chocolate, David and I shared a meal. As it was a meat dish, Joshua being Jewish didn’t have food. There was no doubt or anything expressed about the food. We just ate and enjoyed. Having been with a few in the hostel who were so concerned about hygiene and bugs, it was such a pleasant relief to find people who just ate/drank without worrying if the salad had been washed with disinfectant or if the water had been purified.

None of us were up for going home so we toddled off to the only open place in town. La Rumba salsa club. It was a bit bizarre. There were about 20 people and most were gringos. Most locals were celebrating Christmas with their families as –Christmas eve is the big dinner celebration not Christmas day, as in many parts of the west. We were up for dancing and went on the dance floor but were so caught up in our conversations; we never did get around to dancing. About 3am we thought maybe it was time to go to sleep.

Thur 25 Dec. Christmas day: Ashley and David had breakfast ready. Ashley had started on her homemade Baileys. It was really good especially added to coffee. We had French toast with blackberries freshly heated and a dollop of cream. Ashley, David and I wandered into town and bumped into Joshua. It was bizarre, most things were closed and yet there were a few restaurants open and people walking around and it was a glorious sunny day. We took a few photos and then felt it was time for a cafe visit. We went to one of the posh places in town and had a really nice coffee and such a laugh. I love the dynamic between the 4 of us. There seems such an energy.

It was time to cook Christmas dinner. We had no oven, so we used Klaus’s idea to coat the chicken in mustard, pepper and salt, then fry it. We had gorgeous fresh vegetables cooked in various ways. We had gone all out and bought a bottle of wine. We also mulled some wine, it was tasting a bit off until David remembered to put some sugar in it. We used this to cook some pears with a dollop of cream which tasted sensational. All in all we had a delicious international meal with very good company. A wonderful Christmas day.

That evening Joshua came by. I had bought some cigars in Cuba so brought them out. Most of us didn’t smoke so it was difficult to keep them alight but we entertained ourselves by talking, taking silly photos with the cigar and Matt’s suede coat. We finished off the homemade baileys, which did taste like. Not a bad way to spend a Christmas day.

Fri26
Ashley felt able to go to the lake and so we got the San Pedro bus. A few hours later we were in San Pedro and led to the San Francisco hotel. A very basic pension but... We went to explore and to find ole Gordon. We found the Buddha bar. Oh my god they had Thai curry. We were in food heaven. Then we went in search of the Scotsman. We asked at a few places and finally found Gordon’s friends bar. Barry his friend was there but Gordon wasnt. We went back to our room, showered and then met the Scots for a drink. We all went home early.

Saturday 27th.
We got up pretty early and found this delightful cafe to breakfast in. we then got a lancha to San Marcus. We thought we might bump into Hele whom we had met in the hostel and was now on a 3 month meditation course here. The village was nice but the restaurants were prohibitively expensive and internet was 12q an hour. Scandalous, considering I only pay 2.50/3Q in Xela. We made a relatively quick exit, after an hour of wandering. Took another lancha past some of the richest real estate in Guatemala. So many amazing houses have been built along the lake here. However, the water levels are rising and reclaiming some of the luxuriously planned gardens of the lower constructions. We got to Panajachel. This was the first backpacker place. You can tell immediately once in the main strip. Stall after stall of backpacking paraphernalia: sarongs, clothes, pipes. You name it, its there. but bizarrely I like it. There is no pretence. It is what it is, a backpacker hangout and not trying to be anything else. We ate, it was small and expensive. Not the best choice. We wanted to shop but lost the will. However, we did buy the most fabulous cheesecake ever, which was sooo delicious. Another lancha and we were back in San Pedro. There is something really cool about zipping along open water in a motor boat.

Sunday 28
Ashley and I got up early and got Ashley settled in her new quarters which had a brilliant view of the lake. We went to the bus stop only to be told that there were no buses on Sunday. That threw a spanner in the works. So that meant a trip on the lancha to Pana. And of course more money. I am trying to cut my costs but things seem to conspire against me. I got a bus for Los Encuentros and then got on what I thought was the bus for Xela of course it wasn’t. I then had to get another and of course that wasn’t for the terminal either he had completely lied to me. It took far longer to get home than I had thought and the lies etc. made me unreasonably agitated. Normally this washes over me but sometimes it just gets to me. I guess I was tired and hungry too, never a good mix. David was there when I got in and had prepared some food, he had even taken into consideration my wheat problems and had bought tamales. It was a feast of roasted peppers and beautifully carmelised onions among other things. It was such a nice gesture. Then we met Klaus at the Baja luna. I had wanted to go there forever since I first came to Xela so it was really nice to finally see it. Klaus and David had bonded over chess, while Ashley and I were away. Later Joshua came.

Monday 29Dec.
I went to class and came back to find Pablo had returned. I had not recognized him when I entered the dorm. I only recognized his earring. So asked Hilda was it he. It was and he was drunk. I checked the drinks we had left behind after Christmas and yea it was fairly depleted. I hate that thieving side of him.
I went off to meet Lari and we caught up on Christmas. It was really good to see her.

Tue30Dec
I started to pack my stuff. Oh boy I realized I didn’t have my hiking boots. I had never brought them into the dorm when I changed rooms. But I knew they were not in the other room either as I would have brought them with me. Someone had stolen my new boots. I was devastated. It had been such an effort to get them. It was also bloody expensive. All my anger at being stolen from just came back. I hated Xela at that moment. So many bad things had happened. I just wanted to leave and never come back. I had good times but right now the bad were far outweighing the good. I had lost soooo much money by coming here. It was ruining my whole trip. And how to replace those boots? Their had only been one pair in the whole of Mexico city. Nothing in Xela. I didn’t have much hope of replacing them. This meant that I would not be able to go hiking here and not see Santaguita. I just couldn’t shake the anger. I was storming around the hostel. My first thought was Melvin took them so I was angry at the staff. Then I remembered there was this strange guy who checked in Christmas Eve and left Christmas day. We had all got a weird vibe from him. But I could not be sure it was not the staff. They were so blasé about it, which infuriated me more. Pablo kept saying tranquillo. I was in no mood to calm down. I was just so furious. How the hell was I going to replace them.
I went to class.
Classes were fine and I came back slightly calmer but not much. I packed everything in my rucksack that could be stolen, locked it and put it into the laundry room I hoped it would be safe.
I finally left the hostel at 2.30. Buses were slow but I finally got to Esquintla at 7.30. The 3 of us joked and chatted for a while, shared a melon and finally slept. Well tried to. The noise from the street was phenomenal, so sleep was difficult.

Wed 31 Dec.
We got up about 6.30am. I had to get cash so that took sometime. Still by 9 we were in this little town so we could get the bus to Izcara for boat to Monterrico. This gent comes up to us and offers a taxi for 60Q, we said no but when we got to the bus and realized it cost 15Q each and didn’t look like it was going to go anytime soon David and I ran back to look for him. On the way, we bought some fireworks.

The driver drove us to the bus, picked up Ashley and another passenger called Onan from Guatemala city. He was a jewelry seller and seemed a really cool guy. It is just the best feeling, bombing along in the back of a pickup with the cool wind in our hair. So much better than a stuffy slow bus.
30 minutes later we were on a small motor boat zooming along the canal amid mangroves forests, to Monterrico. The entrance to Monterrico was idealic. We started to hunt for accommodation but everything was sooo expensive. Two kids showed us this place at the start but we thought we could get better, so we left David with the bags, and Onan, who had already ordered a beer and it was only 10am.

Walking along Ashley and I commented that it looked we would end up in the first place the kids showed, us. We did. Ashley, David and I shared this slightly dilapidated room but it was ok and it had a private shower and toilet, although no sink. It was funny to have it missing but we managed. Monterrico was beautiful, chilled and exactly what I would have wished for.

We met Jenny in the main pack packer hostel (Johnny’s). She had stayed in Don Diego’s for a while. She recommended the liquados in Johnny’s and the food in Calle Real. So we breakfasted in Calle Real, talked again for ages and then swam. The waves were pretty full on but we had a great time running from them. Trying to surf them and trying to avoid being dumped into the sand. We tested the liquados (Smoothies) at Johnny’s. Oh my god THEY were that GOOD.

That evening, we ended up in “El Animal Desconido”( The unknown animal). The main bar in town, facing the beach. We met Francisco, who used to work in Don Diego’s and then Jenny came along. We all went on the beach to try out our fireworks and sparklers. David really wanted to build a large “bomb” so we went in search of more powerful fireworks which we found and a plastic bottle to put them in. So we ran down the beach far away from everyone, lit it and ran for our lives. It left a bang. It was such a hoot. Some of the fireworks failed to work but the ones that did, amused us all because they were our own. Around midnight we were all taking photos and saying happy New Year on the beach.
We all went back to the bar bumped into Onan. He had been selling his jewelry on the beach, just outside of the bar. He was offering to sell some of his rings for beer and it looked like he had sold a lot, as he was a bit the worse for wear.

Thur 01Jan
We got up late Ashley and I about 8.30/90. 2 hours sleep. David went off somewhere for his habitual coffee fix. We spent the day lounging around on the beach and in hammocks and having licuados and arranged a tour of the river.

Friday 02Jan. Some of the guests created the utmost racket, playing the radio of their car at full blast just below our room, drinking themselves into a stupor. Ashley seemed to sleep through it.
David and I wanted to kill them we were coming up with all sorts of revenge plans.

We got up at 4.50am, Met Edgar our tour guide and walked to the pier. There were 10 of us. So Ashley, David and I were put on this boat with plastic chairs as seats. We felt so sophisticated. So colonial, Dahling! Took a few silly photos and enjoyed the relative silence. Bliss after the night we had.
Moving along in our pole powered lancha, we could be in Venice, if only we had someone to sing O Solo Mia. As we were early enough, we saw flocks of various birds off to their dawn fest. We even saw some 4 eyed fish skimming the surface and jumping around. The morning light was stunning and the water was often like a mirror which offered some beautiful shots. We had a wonderful 2 hours. We returned to the hostel and took a few more silly shots on the way and then to Calle Real for Breakfast. We noticed that the young waitress has taken a bit of a liking to David. It seems that a lot of Guatemalan women quite like him. He even gets whistled at sometimes in Xela.

We went to Johnnies for liquados so we could sleep in the hammocks. We got a few hours kip which felt good.

Afterwards we swam. The waves were more forceful than normal. The amount of times I got pummeled by the wave, I even did a summersault underwater. Unfortunately Ashley was so battered, by one wave that her tendons were strained and caused her a lot of pain.

Later we met Onan. He was still swigging back beer and it was only early afternoon. However, when he found out that Ashley’s knee was bad. He massaged it and seemed to know what he was doing. Impressive!

We decided to dine at a different restaurant as we felt we weren’t really exploring Monterricos culinary delights. Bad move. It was crap we have decided to not branch out anymore and just stick with Calle Real. Jenny, and her friends were there. Later we went to the cantina next door. It was fun.

David went back with Ashley to the room. I went with Jenny to El Animal. I was in the mood to be out. David came back to look for ice for Ashley’s knee. I asked one of Jenny’s friends who was working behind the bar, for some ice. I went back with him to see if she was alright and to see if I could find ibuprophen for the inflammation but no go. I went back to the bar chatted with Jenny. We danced but within seconds we were approached by various pairs of men. We went into a corner. We then left about 12.30am. Sleep came quick but didn’t last long. Some idiots insisted on talking rather loudly all night. Another sleepless night.

Saturday 03Jan Ashley was still limping. But her leg had made a remarkable improvement. We are convinced that Onan really did the trick. Although she did take 2 ibuprophen as well. We took breakfast in the Calle real for a change not. We wandered around looking at clothes and taking silly photos again. Then went to the beach, napped. We went to the really posh roof bar for a sundowner and the 3 of us sat and watched our last sunset together and in Monterrico. We went off to get some food in Calle Real, we didn’t bother changing. It was going to be an early night, as we had an early start. We then went off to Johnny’s to have our last liquado.

Sunday 04Jan. We got the 5am bus. It was hard getting up but at least it was not cold. We arrived quickly at Escuintla. Said good bye to David as he was off to Guatemala city then Costa Rica a few days later for his course. Ashley and I found our way to the other terminal and were home in Xela by 11.30am. Unreal. We went for lunch in the restaurant under the Mercado. Mon

05Jan I chickened out of telling Ileana i was leaving. I was just toooooooo tired to do so.

Tues 06 Jan I told Ileana that I may be leaving. Thought I would break it gently. It was hard but it worked out as she has a few teachers just starting who can take over. One of which is called Brett and he will take over my classes.

Wed 07 Jan I told Ileana that I was definitely leaving. She was so cool about it. She really is such a lovely person. We were expecting Francisco to come up today, but no show. Ashley, Zoe a really cool English girl who had arrived at the hostel a few days ago and a few others including Pablo went to "La Parranda". It was dead at first then picked up. Lari later came and The Mex was moving on her, big time. He told her she was his. Oh I had to laugh. She asked to be rescued but I figure she could handle herself.

Thur08JAN. -I said my good byes to Lesley and Alejandra my 11am students. It was sad. They gave me loads of hugs. Later they came back and gave me M&Ms and a Hershey kiss as presents from each of them. I was sooooo touched and surprised. I was in the kitchen with some of the other hostellers. A few of them are ill with colds etc. One Swedish girl (Daniela) said that when she is ill at home she puts on a big bathrobe and wanders around the house hair askew and carries a toilet roll around with her by stringing the belt of her bathrobe through the toilet roll. Thought that was so cool.

I went to meet Lari at the grand opening of a new bar/restaurant in Xela. Oh my god. It was fab. They have painted various middle eastern murals around the walls of this rather grand room. They had drawings of ancient Egyptians and hieroglyphics, for the ladies and gents. Really swanky place, without being ostentatious in the slightest. They just have done a good job. The place is run by 2 Arab gents. Apparently there are only 3 Arabs living in Xela. When I arrived, Lari was sitting on a table, with a lot of Guatemalans, including Giopetti and The Mex. The Mex is a friend of the owner, who came over and seemed cool.

The bar laid on massive amounts of delicious food, Falafel, hummus, good pitta, fabulous tabouleh etc. I was in heaven. The drinks are even reasonable. Lari was a little tipsy and was in the mood for dancing. Then 3 belly dancers came on and give a performance that most definitely kept the boys happy. Later, the compere asked for girls in the audience to come up. Lari was ready like a shot and I got dragged up by the lead belly dancer. Er Great. Everybody sitting down and me up in front with 2 gringas and 3 belly dancers, and not really in a performing kind of mood AND STONE COLD SOBER . Anyway I tried to follow the instructions to wiggle my hips but I think we failed, as the session didn’t last long. Thank god.

Then this Arabic guy got up with this lady and they did a fairly good impression of mid eastern dancing. It was fun. I was later to dance with her (her name is Astrid), as she was also just dancing by herself. She was really liking the music and so we hung out on the dance floor. After about an hour, Astrid brought me over to her dance partner, at the bar. He is the brother of the chef, whom I also met. I congratulated them on the food. Later the place took off, as the DJ played some brilliant music. The Mex left but later returned as, his club (La Rumba) was dead. Everyone was here. This new bar could be bad for him. However, he took over the DJ slot to give the DJ a break. That’s Guatemala...

The atmosphere was amazing. The bar staff were dancing, as were the waiters/hosts. I recognized a guy who had previously worked at Ojala another bar here. He obviously had been poached. The staff, I think, were picked for their professionalism but I think on their looks too. It was amazing to watch the level of skill there. The owner was everywhere all night. They will do well. The night was a tremendous success. I left just before 1.Friday 09JanI said my goodbye to Lesley my 9am student. She is such a sweet girl.

14Jan
Lari told us this cool story that her teacher had told her. This gypsy girl called Vanuschka fell in love with a boy from a wealth Spanish family. However, when the family found out about it they sent him to war but he was killed. Vanuschka was devastated and died of a broken heart at 17 years of age. Over the years, she has become a sort of saint of love. Locals come to write on her grave their prayers of love and leave her flowers.

Ashley and I were intrigued by the story and also wanted to see the cemetery. Outside of the cemetery, we bought 2 roses. I got this rather beautiful 2 headed red rose. I thought it was fitting to bring to someone that was buried for love.
The cemetery was stunning. Some amazing graves had been built. We met this gent who told us some stories. He told us that many sculptures had been beheaded as this collector was paying some boys to remove them.
He also showed us the German section. Here, were the graves of some young German boys in their 20s who in 1917, had tried to stop the Mayans form sacrificing a girl to the volcano and had died in the effort.We also saw the memorial to those that died in 1897 fighting for independence of Xela from Guatemala. As well as graves of 2 of the 3 presidents of Guatemala who had been born and died in Xela. A book has been writing on the stories but we didn’t have the time to read or view that. What a shame.

Over the next few days Ashley, Lari, Zoe and I went to our favourite spots around town. It was sad to know we all had to part as had become good friends. Lari was to remain living in Xela and Ashley was living for Mexico a day after I left. Zoe left with me but was on her way to a coffee farm.
When Ashley and I hugged for the last time, there were tears. We had become true friends in the few months we were together and I will miss her terribly. Also Lari, I will miss her an awful lot. Although I only knew Zoe a short time, she had created a niche for herself in our group with her incredibly individual humour.

17Jan Zoe and I headed off together and got on our separate buses. I was leavign Xela for good. I felt really sad.

Cuba, the good, the bad and the Downright dangerous. Aug10 sep 04

2009-01-16T23:47:00.048Z

We got the bus again. We were unable to reserve so we took pot luck at getting to the station an hour or so before the bus left. We were again lucky. There is only one bus company that tourist are allowed to use and they have a very limited number of buses running.
We ended up chatting a lot to the German guy (called Wolfgang no less) we met at the station. He was really cool and friendly. He used be a guide in a few countries for years and years but now was a maths or science teacher. Very sociable and interesting chap. Like Sue, he was here for just a few weeks.

On the road to Baracoa, the driver stopped at a farm and we were able to buy fresh pineapple and other fruit. Oh bliss.

We got picked up by a bicycle propelled taxi. The owner was there also and he rode beside us on his bike. The place we were staying was about 6 minutes from the centre and was the most beautiful little cottage surrounded by flowers. It was hard to get prices out of the owner though but they were lovely. Although their cooking was not as good as the other casas.

We had breakfast there each morning. I had my problems with wheat which got to me at the start but was now manageable and Sue was now having issues with not getting enough fresh vegetables or fruit which was getting to her and she was coming down badly with the flu. She had developed a really bad cough which was killing her. But Baracoa was beautiful and such a different vibe. No one was really pushing anything on us.
We walked around town and down to the beach. It is an ok beach. Very nice in places. Incredibly rocky in others, as the full force of the sea hits the island at certain points, defenses have been erected as in Havana.

We met Wolfgang again, he was very keen to go to this particular beach and also to do a tour of the national park, as were we. He had met 2 other German guys, Daniel and Jochen, equally keen so we all decided to meet that night. After dinner at our casa, we met the boys at an outside table at the Casa de Cultura to listen to trova from within, which was very good indeed. We all decided to hire an illegal taxi that the boys had procured to take us to the beach next day. The 3 boys were such a laugh.

9.30am Sue and I arrived to meet the boys for our tour. However, the taxi was nowhere to be found. We waited for an hour our so. Then someone did turn up but we were unsure it was the appropriate person. However, he seemed ok. Off we went. While motoring along the road, however, we were stopped by the police. There was no hiding the 5 of us. This time though the driver stopped and took the fine on the nose and was able to carry on with us. So that is how it´s done.

We started off at this fruit plantation, where we were able to get the most glorious juice. We passed some lovely sights and then finally we arrived at this incredible sandy beach. It was hot but whos complaining. The taxi was very keen for us to eat at this beach restaurant. He was obviously on commission. I ate as I was hungry and Sue helped me out. It was beautiful fresh fish and rice. I am eating so much good stuff since Havana. We stayed for a few hours walking.

We arrived back in town but got off in a side street to avoid the police and another fine. We met Wolfgang later in one of the restaurants recommended in the Lonely planet. The LP didnt fail us. The restaurant food was impecable and scrumptious. Later we went by the Casa de Cultura and met the boys. It is fun watching them. The Cuban girls are mad after the pair, as they are pretty hot. However, Jochen has no interest. Daniel on the other hand is up for play time. They left us to hang out on the path and play guitar, surrounded by locals and a few girls. Jochen did come back for a while as was getting tired of girls trying to seduce him.

This old man then arrived at our table. He said he was 86. He was aright little cheeky bugger but delightful. After money, of course but he serenaded us well, so we obliged. Am a sucker for cute old men who sing to me. Well actually cute guys who sing to me ha ha. Too bad there are so few of them. Later we passed by the boys, the pair of them fluttered and strumming a guitar.

As the beach trip was so successful. We booked the taxi to take us to the national park. It was a long drive but we hired one of the resident guides, who took us through the park, showing us the local flora and fauna. It was so beautiful. There are many plants, indigenous solely to this park or Cuba. After that we took a little boat through the mangrove forest for an hour. It was a fabulous day and trip. On the way home, we even got to buy some great street food and fruit from some farmers. Life was good.

We had dinner in the Casa. We felt we ought to but Sue was not so happy with the food. She was becoming more ill. I left her be, to rest, she needed it and I went off to join Wolfgang. He was sitting outside the Casa de Cultura with whom, I was later to find out, was the head of the Culture in Baracoa. He was facinating, intelligent and really cool to talk to. He had been a teacher previously but thought standards were falling so left. He said he loved Cuba and never wanted to leave but did want to visit other places and have more freedom.

This echoed the thoughts of many we have spoken to. He too was afraid that because Cuba had been deprived of things American etc. that when freedom did come or Fidel passed away, the urge by the young to have anything American could destroy Cuba. I said I felt that exiled Cubans etc. were just waiting to come in and devour Cuba. They have lots of money to buy up everything in sight and those here will gladly give it thinking they will be rich and being altruistic helping their brother Cubans. They won´t be. I have seen the same thing in Nicaragua etc.. The locals receive a pittance for prime real estate. The new foreign owners then make an absolute fortune on the same property selling it on or developing it. It will be disastrous for the culture. Nevertheless, Cuba also needs change. Raul Castro is loosening the restrictions and was supposed to introduce more internet freedom. But we will see.

Next day Sue was still feeling ill, so I went to the nearby beach by myself. I was sitting minding my own business, when this gent just offered me some fruit whilst passing. then this lovely lady came up and offered me dinner. She was there with her daughter who was engaged to a Frenchman who was also there. I chattted to them for a while. Dinner was delicious. I thought initially she was selling it to me. But she was just offering it to me. I have been in latin America too long. Ha Ha. I thought wow this is great. It was such a sweet gesture tho.

But true to form, later these 3 young guys came up and chatted. Before long one of them pretended to hide behind me for protection from his friend, fooling around but then tried to grope me. I slapped him off in jest but got the point across and they then left. Later this guy selling massage oil wanted to show me how it was on the skin. I put out my arm but he went for my stomach, the little git. I slapped him off too. I felt a bit exposed lying on a beach in my bikini. Urgh Cuban men can be so very tiresome. The amount of times you are just walking along the street and they come up and strike up a conversation. It is all harmless but they are after a western girlfriend so they can get presents or a passport. Take your pick. So there is no hope of getting a big head and thinking you are so gorgeous. Ha Ha!! Sue joined me later, which was a relief.

We went to another restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet and brought the 3 boys along. We had such a laugh.They are such good fun.

Next day we went to the bus to get back to Santiago and then Santa Clara. We got lucky and didnt have to stay in Santiago again. We arrived early morning in Santa Clara. We got to leave our bags in the bus station after giving a tip. Money talks.

Santa Clara has money and not from tourism. Cafe society exists here, even if only with cheese and ham sandwiches and limited choice of beverages. But it does exist. We partook. After breakfast, we went to the scene of one of Che Guevaras biggest and the revolutions most decisive battles. They had blown a train up and fought and won against a heavily armed contingent of Batistas soldiers.

Later we went to the Che memorial and burial place. The monument was pretty impressive. The Che museum was really better than I thought it would be. There were things from Che´s childhood, photos, school reports, teen fotos, things pre his guerilla days and various items of clothing etc. he wore or used in his guerilla days, his Mate cup of course was there too and some of his diaries.. No photos etc. were allowed either in the museum or tomb.

The tomb was beautiful. . It was so still and tranquil with candlelight and subdued lighting. Really tastefully done. You could tell it was built with love and respect. A few of the most notable rebels who fought and died with Che were buried there too. It was a really a beautiful place and am so glad we went.

After our whirlwind tour of Santa Clara and Che memories, we then got the bus to Vinales. The intention being I would stay there and Sue would go to Marie la Gorda or Isla de Juventude to dive.

We didnt bother booking a casa in advance but landed a brilliant one and for way cheaper than the others because of it. Fab. Oh my god the food was to die for. Our hostess was a really wonderful cook.

The day after arriving we went on tour with our hostess´ daughter. A little bit of a money grabber but interesting enough. She was having an off day though but we were lucky to hook up with another tour with some lovely people in it. We got to go to a tobacco farm and even to try some cigars. I bought a few. The scenery was wonderful and the walk fairly sedentry. We entered some underground caves, swam in the dark underground river with torches and viewed some stalagmites and stalagtites. Even got to taste some fabulous fruit and sugar cane juice. Next day we went up to the hotel overlookingVinales. It was quite the posh hotel, used mostly by tour groups and even had fresh orange juice for sale. We lazed around by the pool taking in the sun while it shone, until the rains hit that is.

However, our lazing around and joy was short lived.

The TV warned of a hurrican fast approaching. Early, as hurricane season was not due for another few weeks or a month. It was supposed to be heading for Havana but came our way instead. As we watched the news reports, the warnings became more severe. First it was a force 3 then 3.5, last we heard it was force 4 gearing up to maybe force 5, the worst possible. Oh dear, we were right in the thick of it an no way of getting out. We probably could have got a taxi but we decided to brave it.
On the morning it was due, we got up to find that most of the furniture had been moved from the sitting room into the back of the house. All glass etc was put elsewhere for safety. Not a good sign. They kept trying to reassure us but the signs were evidently not good. Around 12.30, electriciy was turned off. We now had no way of knowing where or what was happening with the hurricane. The electricity is turned off by the Cuban government, as a safety mechanism. Many who die in hurricanes etc. die from fallen wires etc. I thought this was a pretty sensible plan. Sue and I thought it was such good luck now in retrospect, that she had been too ill and had not booked any diving. She had been heading to the areas that were now completely evacuated, as the path of the hurricane was over the Isla de Juventude.

We walked around and met some other travellers, stuck as we were. So this French couple and this Aussie guy (Shane) joined us in our walkabout. We went to this lovely garden, a 100 years in the making, put together by these 2 sisters, now well into their 90s, whose family had started the process. There were many beautiful, unusual plants, gathered by the sisters over the years. There were also some bizarre items like beer cans hanging off bushes or ancient dolls or dolls heads stuck on branches. It was quite the eccentric garden.
These fotos above show Vinales in the calm before the storm.

It was raining and blistery. We lost the French couple and later Sue went back to the casa to rest. I stayed with Shane, as I felt we would be in the casa long enough and I would get a little stir crazy, also I wanted to see what it was like on the streets. Besides that Shane was by himself in his casa and didn´t speak much Spanish, so it would be a lonely vigil for him til the hurricane passed. At the petrol station, people had gathered in the only cafe that was open. It was warm and we were able to grab a sandwich. We stayed there till 2.30pm. Then we could feel the intensity of the storm growing. Branches, big ones were already being torn from the trees and were littering the ground, as we walked. It was weird saying goodbye, as neither of us knew what would be the outcome of tonight. It was that bizarre.

I got to the casa, to find Sue and our hosts somewhat concerned at my late return. The house was battoned down. There was wood nailed to all the shutters and windows. Everything was either nailed or tied down. The owners fear had increased since morning. We knew it was going to be bad. We stayed in our room. I decided to pack everything. so that if we had to run or leave anything it would be all tied up. I put all my necessary stuff into my small rucksack and put my raincoat on the door knob, all ready, if we had to make a quick getaway. Sue did likewise. I kept my boots on. I reasoned that I didn´t want to be like Bruce Willis in "Die hard" walking around barefoot on glass. HA Ha!! I know I watch too many movies. but it has always been a thing with me to have shoes I could run in. If I had to. AND tonight I just might have to, if the roof caved in.

There was no way to see out, as everything was nailed. So the only way we could see what was happening was when the owner opened the door to let her husband in or out depending on the work he was doing, or when they were just being nosey. I kept my ears open for those opportuinities to look out. Ok so I have a morbid curiousity. But I found it exasperating not to be able to look. Both the owners mothers had been brought to our casa, as ours was the strongest house. One kept praying on her rosary bead. It didn´t reasure or help anyones nerves hearing some old lady praying, like her life depended on it. And maybe it did. Bless her she was on her last legs and this was not helping.

The owners were so good to us and brought us tea and invited us to be in the back area of the house. We decided to stay in our room at the front. We didnt want to intrude. It was not really the time to make polite faltering converstation.

The winds were working up a storm outside and their force was intensifying rapidly and ferociously. The rain was belting the windows and walls and hammering the roof. Rain water was seeping in through the joins of the roof and walls. As the storm gathered its strength, the force of the rain was so bad it just shot in through the joins. I helped the ladies of the house brush the water out the front door. It was that bad. We got rid of a lot but later, it was twice as bad. At least it gave me something to do. We felt a bit useless. We had no light and I didnt want to use my torch in case we needed it later.

As the evening wore on, the rain howled like some prehistoric wounded animal. It was a ROAR, so loud, I have never encountered anything like it in my life. The wind and what ever it was carrying, whipped the doors, walls and windows. I pitied the poor animals outside peoples houses, trapped in their hutches etc.. The howl got worse. Sue was lying down on the bed. She hated it. She hates storms which I had not realised till tonight. For me I enjoyed them so it was not so bad, although this one was severely testing me. But I felt we we would be ok with that funny thing I have, I just felt nothing bad would happen us. I didn´t have that bad feeling I often get when bad things are going to happen. So I guess I was slightly protected but still I couldn´t be sure it would be ok. We lay on Sues bed, as water was coming in a little on on my side of the room. We each lay in our private world, with our fears of what the night would bring. It was only 6pm. It was already the worst storm we had ever experienced and it wasn´t over yet.

As the storm grew, I was seriously afraid the roof would go. I could almost feel it lifting at times, as the hurican ran amok, like some ogre swinging his club. At one stage the owners ran in and dragged us out of our room. They were afraid the front of the house was going to go. You could almost feel the house lifting. It was like a battalian of soldiers were ramming the house down. We went back to our room when there was a slight lull but it just got worse. It was so bad Sue and I huddled together and hugged. We were effin scared. About 8.30/9pm, I really could have sworn that was it. The roof was gone, it was like just a few more blasts would tear it off, like a wrapper off a chocolate bar. I prayed, I can tell you.

Then miraculously, the winds started to die down. We couldn´t believe it. We thought it was going to accelerate again but it didnt. We had survived a force 4/5 hurricane.

We helped the owners brush out the water again from the sitting room. It was about an inch deep, maybe more. Thank god everything had been removed from the front room. The husband went outside to check damages. It was all good. Incredible!!

There was a tangible sense of relief. Anything could have happened but it didnt. At least not to us. We nodded off in the lull despite the still gusting winds. I slept with my boots on. Sue laughed but I am a girl guide at heart the girl guide motto "Be prepared" was something I took to heart.

Next morning we got up early. We looked outside. It was a gloriously sunny day. Who would have thought that the night before ever happened. Sue kindly texted Maudie and Dad for me. Apparently he had been worried sick, as he was able to see a lot more than us on TV and it had not been a pretty picture portrayed by the media. He was probably more worred, as a result than us. Sue´s parents had been sick with worry too and had actually cried when they heard her voice.

The husband of the house, set about removing the nails etc. and then went off to help neighbours and check the respective mothers houses. Most of our street was ok, so we thought the storm didnt do much. However, on closer inspection, the roof of one house was missing. The occupants were drying their TV, mattresses, clothes etc. in the sun.

We then wandered around the rest of the streets. Oh my god. the absolute devastation. The crossroads near our street was a lake. Chickens were running around like headless chickens do. Many rooves were on the ground or folded back still dangling from the walls of their houses. The streets were strewn with branches, whole trees. Not just small trees but huge giant trees in places. Sometimes trees had fallen onto the rooves of houses. We had to step over trees to walk along the streets. We wanted to take fotos but it seemed a sick thing to do. I saw this middle aged lady walking in dirty clothes, just a couple of plastic bags in her hand. She was totally traumatised. She just kept repeating "I have lost everytihing, everything is gone." God it was sad. I just wanted to give her a hug. Later, this car passed by and the people seemed to be smiling. I asked how they were, bad move. Oh god the woman just burst into tears, she had come up from the coast. Everything had been destroyed. I felt so bad for her.

We went up by the Casa de Culture. This had been a beautifully renovated two story colonial house. Now most of the tiles were on the ground beneath, whipped off in last nights frenzy. The church to the right of it, when we approaced, looked remarkably unscathed. However, when we walked around, we saw the huge tree to the left had lost half its immence trunk which had crashed onto the church and its roof. Luckily it was not the whole tree and it was only a little of the roof. Still it was severely damaged. Glass windows were smashed. The large wooden doors badly damaged. The surrounding plaza completely covered in branches and tiles.

We heard this whimpering from underneath some poor houses roof, that had blown onto the plaza. This poor young dog came out to our call. He was still trembling. Petrified! We sat for a while and just stroked him till the trembling subsided. We met other dogs in a simlar state. Totally traumatised from the night before. We wanted to help but there was just nowhere to volunteer. Everyone was just trying to get to grips with events. The tidying up was happening just at the house level.

We walked around a bit more. Electricity pylons lay strewn on the ground, wires throwb across streets. We heard about the hotel, whose pool we had lazed by. Apparently it was a wreck. Practically demolished, as was another hotel that had been on an equally impressive lookout point. I guess there are disadvantages to being that high up huh! We met a mother and sun that had been staying there. They apparently had been locked in tehir rooms for their safety. God I would have hated that. Also that could have been lethal. They had spent a petrified night and were desperate to escape Vinales.

We walked up there to see the damages. It was bad. Later we met Shane and the French couple. Shane had sat with the Grandfather of the house outside looking at the storm for hours. He said the grandfather was enjoying himself. I would have liked to have been with someone like that. They lost a bit of the roof of the outside but otherwise his casa was intact. As was the French Couples.
We were standing at a corner, when the dogs we had befriended came up to me. At fist there was only 2 then suddenly there wre about 5 dogs jumping up on me wanting a pet. It was very disconcerting. I also had my periods adn I had this awful fear that they could misinterprete that. ouch. Dinner I wasn´t.

We met this French guy, who had been driving around Cuba near Vinales. In the storm, his car had broken down outside Vinales and they had to thumb a ride to town. He was organising to get his hired car rescued. He had not heard anything about the storm until yesterday evening so had to rush to Vinales and get accomadation. The had to pay 30 dollars for a breakfast. Sheer extortion.

We met loads of people desperate to leave town and get to Havana. Shane, the French couple and ourselves decided to stay on another day and in that way help out. Also there was no hope of a bus and no clue as to what the roads were like. There was still danger of falling trees uprooted because of the storm but still standing as of now. Still people took taxis out. We saw loads of people taking photos and videos. Completely blatant about it. It made us pretty disgusted. If it was discreet I would say ok but this was not.

We all went by the 100 year old garden. Oh what a sad sight. It was destroyed. 100 year old trees felled to the ground. Bushes flattened. It would take years, if not longer to regenerate. It summed it all up. Very sad.

Farmers had gathered selling fresh fruit on the streets. They had to. So much had been destroyed or torn down that they were trying to make the most of it, while the fruit was still edible. God knows what would happen the rest of the year or maybe more years, as the harvests were now destroyed and would need total replanting. Whole banana plantations were just heaps of leaves and rotting fruit.

We were told that electricity might take 20 days or even a month to repair. The damage was that severe. Nevertheles, the word on the street was that no one was killed. A miracle considering the strenght of the storm. Unusual as many were killed in equivalent storms, in other countries. But the governments quick action to evacuate people and turn off the electricty contibuted hugely to this.

It was bizzare if you stood at any corner for any lenght of time, foreigners, came to talk to you, asking about buses, how it was for us etc.

That evening, we were overawed, a delicious dinner was on the table, as if nothing had happened. Despite no electricity and all the work to clean up the place. My god they are amazing people.

We arranged to meet the French couple and Shane after dinner in the main plaza. We had nothing else to do. So we had a bit of havana rum, as you do.

Next day, we tried to contact the mother and son we had met yesterday to share a taxi to Havana. But no go. So we went to the main drag. This man offered a taxi. I said we would but not until I found this couple. He took this as a yes and procured another couple I told him no we had given our word to some others. I had left Sue back at the casa whilst I looked for the couple. When I got back to the casa, the taxi driver was there I was quite irriated to be put under such pressure. Anyway I left Sue to continue packing and went off with my bags. As I couldn´t find the mother and son, we ended up going with this English couple who were adorable. Our driver was lovely and not the person who had been the go between. Thank god. He was nervous about the journey, if the police caught him...

Along the road, we could see the flattened landscape that previously held rows of trees and plants. Huge electricity pylons had been crumpled like paperclips, along the road to Havana. Completely twisted and flattened. Surreal.

We were finally back in Havana. We had a really nice casa right in the centre around the corner from the Floridita, Hemingways old haunt. Havana had luckily been untouched by the storm. I couldn´t see it survive what we had. Nature had been kind, at least to Havana.

Next day, Sue and I took a taxi to Hemingways house, a few miles outside of Havana on a splendid hill overlooking the city. It was such a beautiful house, all white and 50´s furniture. And books everywhere. Everything had been left as it was on the day he died, even down to the array of magazines he left on his coffee table. His yacht had been brought to the gardens and a special cover built to protect it. He used this for his deep sea fishing. Nearby the boat were 4 small graves where hisdogs had been buried. We took lots of photos needless to say.

We came back to town and went to a few corners, we had not got to yet. Walking along the street we bumped into this Italian we had met on our tour, then another Italian we had met in Baracoa and Vinales came along.

As we were chatting, along came Eddy whom I had first met in San Juan, Nicaragua, bumped into again in Utila, Honduras and here he was in again Havana. Small world! We all arranged to go to a bar that nightafter our visit to the fort.

Just before Sunset, we visited a fortress across from Havana main. It was a huge well maintained fortress and inside was a museum with much military regalia and a short history of the Cuban missile crisis among other things. At 7pm was the item we were waiting for, the march of old uniformed soldiers from around the 18th century was announced witha trumpet call. .They did their changing of the guard etc. Then set off the cannon to herald the end of the day. It was pretty interesting. We had dinner at the fort in this rather nice restaurant. Although the service was painfully slow. We then rushed off to meet the boys. We met in this bar with a mixture of locals and foreingners. And Salsa music. The talk turned to politics and Cuba Libres. It was a fun night.

Next day, walking along the steet, we met this man at a corner, on a bike with these 2 remarkably well trained dogs. They were so cute and clever. We had a chat with him and of course took the requisite photos, with a tip thrown in. I still was amazed at each new street I saw, each more beautiful than another.

We walked along one of the main thoroughfares and found the book sellers. I managed to buy a few diaries of Che Guevara and a history of the Cuban Missile crisis and US involvement in Cuba. Tehre have been about 600 attempts by the CIA etc. on Fidel. Also The US has waged warfare includign biological warfare on Cuba even now. There are so many terrorists actions by the US on Cuba and many other countries and yet they get away with it.

Later we went to the big craft market. Some pretty cool stuff was for sale. The most amazing part was the artists corner. Some great paintings were on display. If I had more money and space I would have bought so much.

Near the harbour in this sheltered alley, were a load of fishing boats. These had been placed here just before the hurricane hit for protection. It was such a bizarre sight to see fishing boats on the street. We waited while they loaded them on trucks to return them to their natural habitat.

That night, Sue and I dined in this restaurant by the harbour. Again it came recommended by Lonely planet. Again they didn´t lie,. It was brilliant and a beautiful setting overlooking the harbour and of course expensive.
Our last day together, we went for a walk to the big market and then had a Mojito in the Bodega, the other of Hemingways haunts. We finally got there. The walls were covered in graffiti left by previous visitors. So Sue and I added our mark, as you do...

In one of the old squares, I had my fortune told by this Santeria?? lady. Didnt understand most of it but it was fun. I think she blessed me. She was rather a large lady, dressed in the ery African LAtina Santeria white lace and a big fat Cuban cigar in her mouth. Foto was here but got deleted. somehow...

Sues taxi never turned up, but we got a good deal to pick her up and the English couple we had shared a taxi from Vinales, who were leaving on the same plane as Sue. It was sad to see her go.

However, I had arranged to meet Eddy and he turned up later. We walked for hours around Havana to places I would never have gone. We passed the US office of Cuban concerns. They dont have an embassy now but this "Equivalent". Fidel had positioned about a 100 flags right infront of the offices as a reminder and an upright finger to the US. Each flag representing several of those that had died due to US involvement in Cuba.

We ended up chatting in the park for hours after dinner and our exploration of the city. It was interesting to hear Eddys version of Cuba. His Dad is Cuban and his mother is African American. When he came first he had a wonderful time but when he came back this time, he experienced racism from the Police on a regular basis as they thougth he was a local adn he fitted the "profile". I.e he has dreads. That was sad.

Next day I did a last wonder around. My taxi didnt turn up either but I ended up in a mototaxi. This I had heard was illegal but he was prepared to do it. He was a young chap and was so delighted to get me in. He had such a grin on his face and was waving to all his friends. However near the airport all happiness was doused with a good scolding from the police. They fined him but left him continue to the aiport, then some other policeman cornered him. Poor chap.

And then I was off to Honduras. Adieu Cuba. It was fun

Back to Xela,

2008-12-02T19:29:00.015Z

I thought I would add some recent blog while I update the ones I havent got around to yet e.g. Cuba, Mexico Guatemala. Just so you know what I am up to.

Er in case you hadnt guessed. I am in Quetzaltenango otherwise known as Xela in Guatemala. 7 weeks now... with 3 weeks inbetween to visit Mexico.

12Nov.
After a 12hour overnighter, I got to Tuxtla about 6.30am. But got damned as the next bus out to Comitan was at 10.30. I tried to get a collectivo which would have been a lot cheaper and quicker but no such luck. When I asked no one knew what I was talking about. I had to bite the bullet and pay for a 1st class ticket I didn’t even need. Balls. I then realised, that we were going to San Christobal. If I had known I was heading there I could have taken a direct bus there the night before instead of Tuxtla and stayed in San Cristobal and seen it as it is supposed to be beautiful but I didn’t have a guidebook so had no clue and it was the slow, indirect bus I was now on double bad whammy. So I got to the border, hours after I though I would or needed to.

At the border, I realised I had to pay 20 dollars to Mexican customs. I screwed up by saying I didn’t know if I was coming back. If I had been I don’t think I would have been charged. I had forgotten that. But I just didn’t know what to say. I had almost enough in pesos. I ran out of immigration and bumped in to this Mexican named Isreal, also trying to cross the border. He asked if I wanted to share a taxi to the Guatemalan border so I said yes but I would pay in Guatemalan quetzals, if he lent me the Mexican equivalent. He agreed, so I was able to pay my exit tax. More lost money. aaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhh
He spoke Brilliant English so we had a good chat. This was his first time ever leaving Mexico or travelling alone. He only had about 7 or 8 days.

We crossed the border and got a bus almost immediately for Huehuetenango (Huehue). However, the bus broke down about 30 minutes from Huehue. And I mean broke down. There were bits of the undercarriage and oil along the road. The poor bus driver. So we got on the next bus about 20 of us. With me being the only non latino. None of those that got on wanted to pay again as they had already paid and our first bus driver said it was unnecessary.
They say the Mayans are quite timid but this lady, my god but she was assertive and was the spokes person for all of us. One tough cookie… It was fab. None of us paid. She put all the men to shame. All the locals had a laugh about it and there was a lot of respect for this lady.

Well we got to Huehue about 6pm, it was dark and no more buses were running. So we had to stay in Huehue. We found a nice hostel and after a bit of a walk around, found a nice restaurant for dinner. This was Israel’s first dinner abroad.

13Nov
I got the bus to Xela, Isreal came as far as Quatro Caminos so he could carry on to Lake Atitlan.
I got to the hostel after a cheap ride on the collectivo from Terminal Minerva. Lori was there and it was good to see her. She kindly cooked me dinner, that helped. Realised I lost my little purse, either when I was leaving the collectivo or left it on the table here and it was stolen. That is a real pain, as my keys to my padlock, on my rucksack was in it and a little money. More lost money. Don’t seem to be having much luck with money at the moment.

It feels really weird to be back. Gina has gone to El Salvador and Michelle has rented an apartment. Joan has gone to the states. So that just leaves Lori, Julia and Andrew. There are loads of new people here now, many have been here for weeks so have bonded. I feel a complete stranger and not sure I will fit in at all.

Well I decided not to take any Spanish classes. I am now studying by myself. I really needed to study my verbs, as paying someone to correct me on things I already know but can’t remember easily is painful. I have taken up salsa again too. There is a guy, Matt, He is just a beginner but the others here are way ahead, so we have ended up partnering each other. I tried some of the local guys but it just isn’t benefiting me. Matt and I can hash out a step etc and correct each other. The best thing is we have a laugh which makes the class go quicker and a lot easier.

16Nov
Graces birthday today. Happy Birthday!!!!

Amanda, an American girl arrived for a few days and took Lori, Andrew and I on this beautiful walk up to one of the hills around Xela. We walked for about an hour up through some nice countryside to Baul. At the top was a pagoda and a rather large cross. The views across the city were amazing. We then found the giant slides. Of course we had to have a go. So we took turns taking photos of us coming down like a bunch of kids. It was such a laugh. I did manage to graze my elbow when I let it lower, as I was speeding down. And Lori ended up going into one of the other lanes. So it was a bit risky but oh such fun…
The area has lovely pagodas for families wishing to come up here for picnics and a BBQ. It also had a memorial to the first woman who climbed the active volcano nearby.

Over the last 3 weeks many have passed through the hostel although many have stayed. I met a lovely girl called Hele from Wolverhampton and it was great to meet a cool English person. She laughed when I said flipping heck over something so we bonded as she felt at home too. It made a difference having someone form Europe here. Also 2 Irish girls came through. Lori told me about them and in my head I thought ah would it be funny if they were from Kinsale and imagined the conversation. When I met them I was sort of shocked as both Amba and Carly now live in Kinsale, bizarre or what.

I have begun to make friends again here. There is a pretty good bunch of people here. Megan, Kaliegh, Bill, Matt and Mary from the US. Ashley from Canada which I seem to get on best with lately. Michelle also pops by with her boyfriend Andrew. And of course Leite and Hilda are still here. Melvyn, Hilda´s brother now works her too instead of Francisco. He is sweet. I gave a few English lessons to Leite and Melvyn for a few days. Which I must start again.

25Nov

Lori moved to a room in an apartment block so she could live with Guatemalans and speak more Spanish. Although she is not totally happy there. She is a bit of nervous soul and on her first day was told by a Dutch girl also living there, that some of the other inhabitants steal portions of food from other peoples leftovers when left in the communal fridge. Also one of the occupants is a drunk, who comes by each night to knock on the Dutch girls door and of her Belgian friend´s door also. This nearly freaked the life out of Lori. Especially when she found out that the Dutch girl had received a letter from said drunk, asking her to spend her last night with him as he has been in love with her since she arrived. Oops.

We hit the blue angel every now and then to watch a movie. Recently saw “Frida” again. It was such a beautiful movie.
One night, I went solo to see a movie on the creator of Bossa Nova. I was the only one there watching the movie. It was pretty spectacular and I really need to research his music more and buy some as I totally love bossa Nova.

Wednesday nights and Friday nights we hit the salsa clubs. La Parranda or La Rumba. A lot of the long-term hostel guests are learning salsa and Spanish, so it is nice to have someone to go out with.

22Nov

Lori and I went to El Cuartito, this will be one of our favourite bars, I think. It had a band there playing Cuban trova among other music types.

25Nov Well finally the gang got to go to Fonda Del Che. A bar covered in Che Guevara memorabilia. Of course I am going to love this. As I am now in my 3rd of Che´s diaries. There was an excellent guitarist playing Trova. I preferred it there than El Cuartito but the atmosphere is good in both. So will have to go more often.

27Nov
Well as we have so many Americans staying at the hostel we decided to cook a dinner there for all guests. However, turns out the oven doesn’t work. So that put paid to that. There is an organisation here called Quetzaltrekkers. This is a totally volunteer organisation that organises hikes for tourists in quetzaltenango(Xela). They also organise benefit dinners etc. All the money except for the director’s salary, goes to a school for street kids or kids that need to be schooled but cant be in their own home villages so have to stay at the school midweek. All the volunteers work for free. So we decided to go there for thanksgiving dinner and give our money to a good cause. We had a lovely evening, the food was great even though there wasn’t a turkey in sight. All vegetarian food. Although, for those used to pumpkin pie, there were a few complaints as to the quality.

I met one volunteer, an Irish girl some time back. She came over with some extra helpings of garlic mashed potatoes to all us Irish. It was so sweet and funny. So being the good Irish cailin I am, I managed another large helping. They were sooooo good.
We all then went to La Parranda for some 80s/90s music which disappointed. But Matt and I ended up talking to this really cool American girl one age with me and had a laugh. Laurie is a photographer and has moved to Xela indefinitely.

28Nov.
We all went to La Rumba. Best salsa club in town, well in my opinion. Got to dance with one of the teachers, Byron, from a Spanish school. A great dancer even if he was a foot smaller than I. A real sweetie though. Had a dance with Andrew, he is really good. Matt and I tried to dance a few dances but we hit the meringue or some other type of dance and failed miserably, oh well next time.
29Nov

There was protest against violence, kidnappings and extortion today in Xela. There was a good turn out. Many all in white as they had been asked to and had been given white t-shirts by the ex-guerrilla radio that is still in existence since the war years. About 14 or so taxi drivers were involved. All with messages, written on their cars.I listened to the speeches and was able to understand a lot, especially the priests, as they are used to speaking in public, and therefore speak more slowly. There was an award given to one child (all of 10 or so years) . She stood up there and spoke like a professional.

Andrew leaves tomorrow. Supposed to go out but we all stayed in the kitchen chatting. Matt bought this girls suede jacket. He is so tall with this girlie jacket that it makes quite a sight. But he has a laugh with it. He tried on a hat and scarf and he decided he needed some rather large white sunglasses to complete the retro 70´s look. He bought the jacket with the intention of using it for a week, then trading it in with some cash and get a super duper rain jacket he has been trying to buy for 2 weeks. He has tried to get the owner of the shop to reduce her price but she wont. He thinks if he wears her down she will give in. I’m putting my money on the owner.

30Nov. An English couple (Rob and Charlotte) moved in, as well as an English girl Eve, They invited us to go on a visit to San Andreas Xecul for the festival of I thin the patron saint of the town. So Matt, Jenny a German girl and I went with them all. We were almost the only tourists there. It was really lovely.

It was a really Mayan town so most people were in traditional clothes. They didn’t seem to mind us and were as curious about us, as we were about them. It was a really lovely day. The town is famous for its amazing coloured church, where the angels have blue boots. In the plaza, outside the church, stood a huge Ferris wheel and 2 smaller ones. Loads of stalls as usual were constructed around the place. I got separated fro a while from the others as I was trying to get a good foto of the start of the parade. I then realised I had run out of battery and had forgotten to transfer the spare battery to my bag this morning. I was gutted. Luckily, I met Matt who was trying to do the same as I and he agreed to give me his photos. Still I would love to have had my own.

Matt and I found some great street food but as I was going to pay for a milkshake, I realised I had lost my other little purse. This time with no keys but 120 quetzales, about 20 dollars worth. I am really having bad luck money wise. I was waiting for item no 3 to happen. We then saw the others back at the plaza. Rob was dead keen to go on the Ferris wheel as was I so we persuaded Charlotte and Matt to go up. What a view. It was fun although matt started to lean forward on the seat to scare me which it did, I am so glad he didn’t lean anymore forward as Rob later informed us that he saw people swinging the full way around as threw was no locks on the seat to prevent them from going upside down. Phew!!!!

Still we had a great day. We had to walk part of the way home, as there was a massive traffic jam of cars and buses trying to get into the festivities. We were in our bus for about 15/20 minutes but eth heat was awful and the locals rebelled and left. We found out it was a short walk so off we set. It was a lovely 20 minute or so walk. We were sad to be leaving because judging by the amount coming in to town, there was going to be one hell of a party. But there were no night buses home, so had to leave.

Over the last 3 weeks, Salsa is still progressing. Albeit very slowly. There are so many moves to learn. Matt and I get to partner each other most of the time, so at least we don’t have to struggle with Spanish and learning to dance. Now we just have to do it on a real dance floor…

1Dec
Gina and Chris came back for a while but have now left for the rest of their trip around Guatemala and Mexico. Angela a lovely Canadian, also left today. That is 4 gone that I have got to like a lot that have left in a few days. A shame. But the communal dinners have made a resurgence. They had stopped completely. They are in no way, as good as they used be, but it is nice to have people stay and chat over cooking and eating.

Lori seems to be fitting in better in her room as she has now met some other Guatemalans which are really nice. She has washed the walls etc. in her room with disinfectant and now has a better lock, after Matt fixed it for her and mended the shelves she bought. She mentioned that Matt looked so manly fixing the shelves and how it was nice to have a guy around to do guy things. Of course this is anathema to me, so I nearly barfed.
And the drunk has never knocked on her door. She was wondering if she should be offended by the rejection but we thought not ha ha.

So my new name for Matt is Manly Matt. Back at the hostel, I told Ashley, she found it just as amusing as I did. She came up with the new phrase… Manly Matt in his girlie jacket. We laughed. I like her humour. Matt seems to be taking it quite well. bless him.

Xela who... The first pass Late Sep to Late Oct

2008-12-02T19:28:00.021Z

Xela 28 September

I got the early bus to Sacapulos, then on to Huehuetenango. It was nice scenery but the road was damaged from too much rain and sometimes one side of the road was impassable due to landslides. However, did get to see a lot of Indigenous on their way to the market or at the market in passing with the odd photo. Xela Today I arrived in Quetzaltenango, Xela for short, It is Sunday and the place is dead. I check into a hostel called Don Diego, then set to exploring and eating. I tried looking for this Thai restaurant but no luck. However I found "Sabor de India" which was a delicious Indian Restaurant. I spoke to this American chap and he recommended the Blue Angel for movies.
There is something familiar about Xela. I can´t put my finger on it. I watch a movie later and bump into him. I thought I could organise a Spanish school today but everything is closed. Back at the dorm, I met this young German trainee doctor. She is working far up in the hills in a village miles from anything and came to Xela for a bit of RnR. She is having a fascinating time with her patients, who are now used to her. She told us that if someone cant be treated at her clinic, or it is too serious, they have to drive 3hrs or more or get a taxi to the nearest hospital. Most don’t have a car and often that drive is too long. This is especially true for difficult births. She also said the equipment they had was medieval and very limited. It was sad yet the people were incredible.

Monday. I set to investigating all the Spanish schools around. Oh my god! There are so many. I am so confused. I want to go with a Mayan school but it does not feel the best. I give up and try to find walking boots. I search for hours and hours and hours. Nothing. Oh god.
Tuesday. I searched again for walking boots. I have to find some, as walking around in freezing rain in sandals. It is killing me. By Wednesday, I have given up trying to buy hiking boots and invested in a cool pair of boots, red converse look-a-likes. Always wanted a pair so now I have them but what the hell am I to do about hiking boots? But at least I now feel a million times warmer with covered feet. Life is better already.

I make friends with Lori and Joan two pretty cool Americans, who are a few years younger than I. Joan being the baby. We often end up on the single bed in the dorm chatting for hours. I have another great roommate, called John. He has just turned 60 and is probably one of the coolest men I have met. He has been volunteering for 6 months in another town several miles away, teaching. His wife is just as spectacular. She has volunteered to help protect witnesses on their way to trial. There are trials running at the moment on crimes committed during the war etc. Often the witnesses are intimidated by the perpetrators or their associates. However, just having one foreigner present can stop this. Bizarre but… His wife though has had to volunteer for 6 months as there are other things to be done too and often appearing as a witness is traumatic so counseling and helping is part of the job too.

Friday, well I finally found a school, it was recommended to me by an Aussie called Michael, who was here for the weekend, up from another town where he is volunteering for 6 months teaching English. I booked for 5 hours every afternoon for a week.
There is great excitement in Xela at present as it is the month of the Virgin Mary. Stalls have set up in the central park selling food like tacos, corn and poncho, which is a hot fruit punch. Needless to say I have had great fun trying them all.

There are regular processions around town, which involves carrying a life size statue of the virgin with religious walking behind praying and fire crackers being left off behind he procession every 10 minutes or so (they are so loud). What I do like though is that the men carry the statue for a short while, then the women take over. At home it used always be just the men. The cathedral has been decorated with the finest flowers and draped with long swaths of red cloth. It is stunning inside.

This week met some of the other regulars here in the hostel. There is Marco, from Guatemala, an architecture student here in Xela. He is a doll. And a mad Mexican called Pablo, 26. Then there is Francisco, 21, Lette, 17 and Hilda who has 2 kids and seems to be in her late 20s/early 30s all working in the hostel.

At the weekend, I went around town looking at the festivities. In the evenings there are marimba bands and a great party atmosphere.

Sunday 5Oct. Hilda invited Micheal, Pablo and Lori to the celebration of Day of the children in her village. Lori was ill, so I went instead. She took us 3 to the village which took a total of 3 buses which she has to take each time she comes to work. It took about an hour. Then it was onto the church hall, where we listened to the pastor preach. Later, Lette and some of her sisters and loads of school kids put on a show of singing and dancing. It really was lovely. At the end the villagers insisted on feeding us. It was so nice of them and the food was lovely.
That evening, a few came from the hostel on Sunday and we ate together and played table futbol. Hilda one of the staff came too.

Monday. 06 Oct: Started class. I like my teacher but there is no energy in the class. I start to wane about 30 minutes into it, as does she. I think having class in the afternoon is no good. I am learning but she is going over things I have learned but just can’t remember. I need to study more. We had one interesting class though. An ex president had just been arrested in Mexico and it was in the newspaper. He had stolen millions about 10 years ago but had escaped. However, it didn’t appear that he would be handed over anytime soon and if he was the indications were he would get off. Guatemalan politics are soooo corrupt.

Monday. 13Oct: Francisco, Pablo and Marco often end up cooking in a group. Lori joined them first and now I have. The group is growing and sometimes it is smaller.
I went to another school, this time the Mayan school. The class is so much more interesting and there is an energy between us. It also starts in the morning and gives me time to study in the afternoons and do my homework .

Another Mexican called Cesar has joined the hostel group. He is a great cook and has joined the group. Everyone seems to be enamored with him. He is very sociable. The groups for dinner have grown sometimes to 16.

I met this lovely German girl in the hostel and she wanted to go to one of the local indigenous markets in a town called another town called Momostenango.

12October: On Sunday, we got the 8.30 bus and landed in the thick of it. It was heaving with all sorts. A lot of indigenous come to this market and the area is renowned for its blankets and weavings. . I wanted to buy a blanket. However, there weren’t as many as I thought but finally found one I wanted. The lady wanted 200Q for it, but I wanted to offer only 160. She would only go down to 175, so I walked away to think about it. I could find no other so went back. She offered me 160 immediately. So I gave her 165. She was delighted and allowed me to take her photo. She was such a lovely lady. I shoed her the photo and she showed it to her friend and they had a laugh over it. They don’t see many photos of themselves so were well chuffed to see them.

I ended up buying a few other things too elsewhere, like a wall hanging and some scarves.
We ate at a little street vendors and they were delighted with the novelty of serving foreigners. The food was a great homemade soup, a plate of rice, chicken and salad and a cup of coffee. All for approx 10Q. Bargain.

We passed this butchers stall, and the guy behind asked us to take a photo and started posing. It was such a laugh. So we took a photo of the ladies there too and showed them it.
Once we had exhausted the market, we went off in search of the cemetery. It was peaceful place on the top of a hill. The headstones and tombs were a rainbow of colour. We took photos of the cemetery and the pleasant view, then got the bus home.

16October; Loris Birthday, a few of us went shopping for the food in the market etc. and then spent several hours cooking. We we bought a pañeta. Basically this is a paper mache toy see the bear in the foto. It is filled with sweets and the birthday girl/boy has to bash the living daylights out of it, until the sweets are released and scattered to the floor. It was a great party and the Mexicans cooked up a stonking "mole" (Mexican speciality, Meat with Chocolate sauce and spices). Delicious. Later we all went on to a local dive bar.

20Oct. Cesar wanted to go back to Mexico for the day of the dead and to sort some items out so I went along with him as I always wanted to see the day of the dead and thougth it woudl be cool to go with a Native.

I said my goodbyes to the gang in Xela. Hoever, I figured I would be back. I so love Xela.

Mexico 20Oct-12Nov: Visting places I had no intention of visiting but am here anyway..Mexico City

2008-12-02T19:27:00.032Z

Cesar and I left Guatemala early and arrived in Mexico city the next day after taking a night bus from Tuxla. At the border with Guatemala and Mexico, we met this polish couple, Krystian and Joanna. We had a lovely chat with them They seemed really nice

When we arrived in Mexico city, we got the metro from the bus station and we hit Zucolo first. This is the main Central Plaza in the city and the cathedral and government offices are here. It is an amazing place. They were just setting up the different offerings for the day of the dead. Also there was a lot of activity in the centre. There were shamen/witch doctors blessing people and Aztec dancers in full regalia, dancing to drums. It was bedlam but fun. We stayed the night in hostel cathedral. It was a nice enough hostel and was right in the centre and useful to get to the bus station. We tried to get into the Mexican wrestling but were too late, so we went to this really nice restaurant on a terrace overlooking the Zucolo. The setting was beautiful , the food was great and not too expensive.

Next day we headed to Patzcuaro. This town is famous for its day of the dead celebrations. When we got there we met this Argentinian girl (Florencia) and we all decided to share a room to keep costs down. We booked into this nice pension.

Patzcuaro, had a few markets all with loads of stalls selling everything. However, the most common were paraphenalia for day of the dead. Mostly sweets. There were loads of skulls made from sugar and colourfully decorated. In tandem, there were loads of skeletons based on designs by Diego Rivera and other famous Mexican artists. The crafts were amazing and beautiful.

One night we met this Australian chap and he came with us to this village, that is famous for making guitars. It has so many shops making guitars and sometimes other instruments. After a few days though, Cesar was beginning to annoy me so I left and went back to Mexico city.

I had only intended to go back to sort my flights to South America but ended up staying 2 weeks as the city was so captivating. I booked back into the hostel we had stayed in our first night.

I walked most days to different areas. There are so many beautiful buildings. My favourite is the Belle Artes. It was as amazing inside, as outside as there are amazing murals inside by some of the most famous Mexican artists.

I got museum fever and each day I went to a few museums. My favourites were the Frida Kahlo house, where Frida had been born, raised and had also lived there with her famous artist husband Diego Rivera. They have left their indellible mark on the city. Some of the paintings they had done of each other were on display. The house had been left pretty much as she had left it.

She and her husband had been friends and had put up Leon Trotsky when he was on the run from Stalin until she had an affair with him and he had to move out with his wife. The Trotskys moved into another house but they were not there long before he was murdered by some communist artists on Stalins wishes. The Trotksy story was a very sad one. Most of his family had been murdered in Russia and was continuously on the run. I think one of the happiest times in his life was when he lived in Frida Kahlo´s house .
In the 20s and 30s Mexican artists were leading the way in Fresco art. Some of the murals by several artists are dotted around Mexico city. I saw a small fraction of them but it certainly gave me a taste for more. Diego Rivera´s art was very intellectual and political. His art had so many hidden and not so hidden meanings as well as being visually stimulationg and beautiful. His art graced many a public building, as the Mexican goverment at the time was pro socialist. I definitly think that we have been deprived of Latin American art in Europe. I have rarely seen much at home. However, it is plentiful, diverse and incredible, what I have seen so far.

Mexico City seems to see lots of protests. I got to see a few while I was there. There is a lot of anger against the government in the Chiapas region and they want land reforms. The government keeps promising but doesn´t deliver much.

Along the most historic road, built a few centuries ago, there was an art exhibition. Various paper mache sculptures (Mexico is famous for this art form) were displayed and accesible to all. They were huge and it was a great item to bring the kids to. You could see loads of kids loving them.

I saw a crowd gather around some street perfomers. The lead performer was in his late 20s and was a bit of an actor/comedian. He did a whole show just walking around making fun of various things. He was then joined by his colleague. The level of gymnastics and strenght was amazing. Their sense of balance was just unbelieveable. Here there are performing one of their feats. I saw them perform several days after that. Each day they were surrounded by huge crowds.

The day of the dead is the 31st October. It is a very important date for many ancient cultures here. But I could see similarities with some of the celebrations we have at home for Halloween or at least in the old days. Here though they make fun of the dead and it is a happy occasion.

Throughout the city are various offerings. Basically they create a display with a theme of death and... e.g. Cinema etc. The traditional flowers they use are something very similar, if not the same to our Marigolds. This gives a very vivid yellow colour everywhere. Sometimes a family will create an offering for a loved one. They will add the favourite foods and cigarettes etc. On the actual day of the dead, families go to the graveyard and sit around the grave of the departed and sing thier favourite songs, bring favourite foods etc. It is a bit of a party, and not the sad affair we associate with death in Europe.

Around the central square in Mexico city, a lot of kids and even adults were dressed up and walking around in their costumes.

Some of the costumes were absolutely stunning. Some people even dressed their dogs. I spent most of my evenings walking around the central plaza, looking at the different costumes, trying different street food and drinks. It was such a party atmosphere.

A few days after coming, this lady called Sue moved into my dorm. We hit it off immediately. She is from England and we had the most deep, yet funny discussions. She made friends with a few others through a tour she did and then I made friends with some of them too and met others along the way. Before long we had a little family going and used to meet for breakfast and dinner. We were a diverse group aged between 23 and 57. But age was not relevant. That is what I loved about them. I really hope to meet Sue again. Then there was Ron from the US, Anne from Aus, Asi from Isreal and Ramon from Mexico. And one girl Natalia, lives in Bogota and I hope we can meet. We had many intellectual and silly discussions us lot and much humour and laughter.

One night I went to this salsa club with a few of the gang. I ran in to the polish couple, Krystian and Joanna, that I had met coming across the border from Guatemala. How small a world is that. We hung out for a short while and chatted and became facebook friends.

However, I got foodpoisoning after some ice, which laid me up for a few days. So this meant I had to stay a bit longer.

I went to Oximilco, rated as the Mexican answer to Venice. It is a series of canals and there are gondolas etc taking tourists around and bands singing to those same tourists from other boats. I got stung price wise as I was the only one there at that time, so had to take a boat by myself. balls. Still it was nice.

I really think that mexico is one of the most beautiful, amazing cities I have been in. I really want to come back.

After 2 weeks, in Mexico city I concluded it was back to Xela. I couldn´t find cheap flights from Mexico down to South America so would have to find alternatives and it would be nice to see the gang.

Guatemala, and places time has forgotten.

2008-11-20T17:07:00.043Z

From Cuba, I got on the plane to Honduras. By the time I had finished my flight to the Panama City I had a cold that was escalating. At San Pedro Sula airport, I got a nice taxi man to take me to the hostel; I had been in, before going to Cuba. Next day, I got into a taxi to realise I had asked to go to the bus station. I didn’t know which one so told him I needed to go to the border. Well he was so kind and suggested I get this bus just a little bit away. He waited in the taxi for me and hailed the correct bus. Then after I told that bus driver, where I was going, he later shouted down a bus passing us, so that I didn’t have to go to the terminal. In the middle of the street my bag was whisked off one bus and both it and I were on our way to Corinto.

I was making excellent time and had saved so much by not having to wait at any of the bus terminals. However, just as I was congratulating myself, it all went pear shaped. The driver forgot to tell me to get off at the right stop to change for Puerto Barrios. So I was then dumped on the main road at some bus stop to get back to where I was supposed to get off.. Of course the bus took ages to come. I then got to the little town I needed. I had no breakfast or water. So took this as an opportunity to stop and eat. This of course delayed me further. Anyway I arrived at 2.30pm in Puerto Barrios, several hours after I wanted to be there so missed the ferry. But, it was ok, I had got through the border to Guatemala and I was in plenty of time to take a lancha, (a quicker motor boat) to Livingstone, which was quite cool.

After an hour boat ride I was there. Of course being the only foreigner, I was pounced on. This elderly gent wanted to help me find a hostel. For commission I assume. I had no idea where to go. AND to BOOT I was ill as hell. The cold, I had acquired on the flight from Cuba had graduated to a fever cum headache and I was in no mood to be railroaded. So I said I had no idea where I was going probably more rudely than I meant to but... I just wanted to think and be left in peace to do so. I just rushed to the nearest cafe for sanctuary. I decided I couldn’t bear the main backpacker scene and just wanted a room to myself to sleep... I arrived at the Hotel Rio Dulce, a beautiful yellow painted colonial hotel. One of the guys sitting around in the lobby was particularly friendly and started chatting. He just happened to have been in Dublin last week. Within 5 minutes of arriving I was offered a foot massage. I JUST WANTED TO SLEEP. I said this and it was a great way of getting out of a tricky situation.

I went to my new room and slept til the next day. I was not well. Crap! Next day I got up late and wandered around looking for fresh orange juice and food. It is a nice town but lots of friendly men. In the hostel, that evening I was desperate for a fresh orange juice. So the bar man prepared one. I went to bed.

Next day I thought I will get up and sleep in the hammock after food. Well kindly barman comes up so I wake up and he pulls up a chair. He was a nice chap and not pushy but just picked up a towel and had it on his knee and about to take my foot before I realised I was about to get a foot massage. Hmm obviously foot massages are big here. Well i intoned I was really ill, still with a fever and just wanted to sleep. Bless him, he didn’t push it and left me snooze which I did for another few hours. God I am sleeping like the dead. This fever has totally wiped me out.

Later I went wandering in town and met this great Mexican lady with GREAT food. She has worked in many places and was married to an Indian man for a while, so learned how to cook Indian food. Various people came in and I recommended my food and had some nice chats with some other Mexicans and a couple of English girls to boot. So far every Mexican I have met has been lovely.

I really wanted to go to some Garifuna music but my body wasn’t up to it so er em I went to bed. I think I am awake for all of 6 or 8 hours per day.

My 4th day in Livingstone and I have not seen any of the sights. So I wandered around a bit more. I went for breakfast at this little sandwich place and ended up taking to this rather amazing gent. He was from Livingstone but went to the US in his teens. Now, retired from the police force, he had returned. He owned the hotel next to where I was sitting. He had funded the sandwich shop I was eating at and basically was financing the locals to set up businesses on the street I was on and around town. He was trying to create a little bit of a restaurant and hotel area and make it a bit of a haven from the bar area. He was succeeding. It was really lovely.

He was also in the neighbourhood watch, which he had set up. He himself patrolled that evening between midnight and 6am. Many of the criminally intent come over from Honduras and Belize, which are only an hour or so away, to steal boat motors etc. According to Lonely planet, Livingstone is apparently a bridge for many drug traffickers although these tend to leave the tourists alone. It also and I quote “Some areas… had a bad reputation for some years, but some locals “took care” of the trouble makers (we don’t want to know the details)” unquote….

Well as our conversation progressed, I realized I may be speaking to one of “those locals”. As I was chatting, this Canadian, now living in Livingstone for about 5 years joined us. And the caht contineud on things that had goen down in Livingstone. Apparently lat night soem guys from Belize and come over and stole a lancha including the motor. This is someones livelyhood. I was not sure if they were caught. But apparently Belize is only 20min way.

The Canadian then asked about the pirate murders. Huh!! Have I stepped back in time. Apparently there were 5 pirates working River Dulce. This area has loads of yachts with wealthy tourists attached. And the pirates are hitting these. A few weeks ago some of these pirates boarded this American couples yacht. The man would not cooperate so they shot and killed him. However, 3 of the pirates were later caught and killed and the other 2, a mother and son, the buyers, had been imprisoned. Quick justice! I guess!
But as all good converstations have to end, so too had this one. I said my goodbyes.

I felt a lot better, so next day I arranged a lancha to Finca Tatin. A very small cabin indigenous type "hotel" on the river bank. I was still wrecked from the fever, so holed up there for an expensive 3 days. It is very isolated, so all food has to be eaten there. But there is a communal dinner each night which was nice and where I met a few nice people. One night I went on a night walk through the jungle right behind the hostel. It was a nice walk and we saw a few creepy spiders in their rather large webs but it was a bloody expensive 45min. Shorter and a hell of a lot less interesting than I was imagining. Nice but could. have skipped it.

I rented a canoe for half a day to try to get to this nature reserve but after paddling upstream for over an hour, I thought better of it. So I went to the hot spring which was a bit of a pond sectioned off from the river, into which some hot water flowed. I was in no mood to expose my bikini clad body to the 4 male staff nearby or the passing boat traffic. I settled for a tour of the cave instead. Could have skipped that too. Oh well! I really enjoyed the canoe though and I managed to paddle back in about 20 min.

That afternoon, some of the other guests were jumping off this swing into the river so had a go at that. During my time there I got to read an amazing book on global warming, which pretty much frightened the crap out of me as to what is happening climate wise.

I took the morning Lancha along the Rio Dulce to the town of Rio Dulce. The trip lasted a few hours and went to a crafts shop. The river scenary was impressive and attention grabbing. A superb gorge and river boats adding to the experience.

At River Dulce, I booked the next bus to Flores which gave me time for lunch. Five hours later I was in Flores. In the major backpacker hostel Amigos. However, it was lovely. The guy who runs it is vegetarian and pretty politically minded. He has a host of DVDs with documentarys on very left wing topics. I watched a few of Norm Chomskys. Riveting stuff on US and it international terrorist acts. The US has done viscious stuff in total contravention of International law.

I booked into "Amigos" because I wanted to find peopel to go on teh 5 day hike to El Mirador. A very out of the way set of temples located in the middle of the Guatemala jungle, literally miles from anything. No roads, just jungle. I spoke to the one of the staff and in 5 minutes i was put in touch with 4 chaps tryign to do the same thing. So I figured I may not get an other opportuinity to do it if i didn´t go tomorrow. Bit rushed but I dolled out my dollars and got rid of my travellers checks. I went shopping for snacks etc with the boys. They seem pretty a cool bunch 2 guys from Paris (Charles and Edouard), One German (Julian) and 1 Isreali (Maor).

Next day we met at 6am, we were off. We got driven to the nearest village and after that, we were alone with our 2 guides. one walking withthe 5 of us, the other to take the mules carrying large containers of water, food and our stuff. I was wary of being with 4 fit guys all in theri early twenties. but it was fine. I was more than able to keep up. Lucky for me, most of the walk over the next few days was on the flat. We waked for miles through what appeared more like a forest than a jungle, but jungle it was as we saw various species of exotic birds and even a snake. And bet of all we heard the howler monkeys, which howled like ferocious lions but were only 2 feet long.

Our guide carried our lunch which consisted of bread and Jam etc. I had been told my wheat problem would be taken care of but no. Most of our food was pasta and bread. Lucky I had snacks. After 7 or so hours of pretty rapid walking we arrived at camp. Pretty primitive. We ate our chicken dish by candlelight, played cards and eventually went to sleep in our tents. The guides slept on hammocks with mosquito nets. I had a tent to myself being the only girl. The nights were a little chilly but not much.

Next morning at dawn, we arose, ate and walked another 7 hours. That evening we were in a workers camp. Many indigenous come here to collect chipotle from trees. This makes chewing gum. They make cuts in the trees and the chipotle oozes out and they gather this. We tried some and it really is like chewing gum.

The toilet was a wooden construction, with a hole in it AND with a wooden toilet seat. Ah the comfort. This was surrounded by walls of heavy plastic and about 5 minutes from camp. It was kind of creepy walking through the jungle in sheer blackness with just a flashlight but pretty amazing too. You could hear the monkeys howling and moving through the trees around you. You just had to be careful of walking into spiders etc.

Next day we set off early for our second day of 7 hours. At our second camp, we ate and played cards etc. again. By the time we were ready to sleep, the guides were chatting with the Chipotle workers and were nowhere to be found. There were only 2 tents out. The French dissapeared into one of them and Julian dissapeared into the other. Only Maor noticed I had no tent.I was not too keen needless to say to sleep outside a tent but I found my only other option, a wooden bed under some canvas and went hunting for some mosquito net to keep the various insects off me. I found one wrapped in hammock and started to try to hang it from the ceiling. Maor bless him helped me but as I moved the bed from the wall of the canvas, I found a huge tarantula and a scorpion to boot. All my good intentions of sleeping on the bed evaporated. There was no way I could sleep ina place where very large spiders and worse scorpions could bite me. Maor my angel offered me room in his tent with him and Julian. So I tried to sleep in their tent. It was not the best nights sleep I had. However, it was safe from insects and vampire bats.

Next day, Julian, Maor and I wanted to see the sunrise. So Julian woke the guides for directions. We got up in time but the French were slow. Julian was getting irriated at their inability to move quickly. Sunrise is so quick here you really have to get to where you are going in the dark. The French didnt know where it was so wanted us to wait. With Julian in front and me last, we carried on. The French lagging behind and me trying to mediate trying to follow Julian but pausing long enough for the French to see us. Why I bothered I dont know. At the top of the temple there was an atmosphere. We arrived at light not in the darkness. Not quite the way to do it. Julian and I were dissapointed and the French were just plain grumpy especially Eduard. Still it was so beautiful.

The temple was on a mound and pretty high up so you could see for miles around. It was just miles and miles and miles of trees, forest, jungle. Green as far as the eye could see with the odd plant strewn stone temple sticking out in the distance. It was breathtaking with the mists rising out of the green.

Later at breakfast, I felt really bad. Our guides had put my tent up but away from the others. What was worse, was I had used one of their mosquito nets for my wooden bed and the guide thought it was being used so didnt take it. I just felt so bad. But I guess next time they might show the stupid travellers where things are, so they can find them in the blackness.

We were introduced to the El Mirador guide who was to show us the various ceremonial sites. It was wonderful not to have to fight for space and to have the place to ourselves. We could sit for as long as we choose or go quickly. Our guid showed us the arbol de Amor. These are trees that grow very close together and are called trees of love. The were pretty tall and thinn but impressive. Later the guide showed us this amazing face careved intot eh stone. It had been partially reconstructed and painted in the original colours so you could see all the face and detail. It was udner wraps and were werent supposed to see it.

We wandered around for some hours climbing temples etc. It was a fairly special place, made all the better as it was diffiucult to get to and not many did it.

That night, we thought we will get in time for the sunset. So we set off this time in full light. The mood was much improved due to the rather great day we had and as we had several hours to calm down. We took in the view and just chilled waiting for dark, each in our private world. This time it was more spiritual.

Although it did get kind of creepy towards dark. There are many stories according to the guides of people sleeping on the temple and hearing voices etc. According to the Mayan, these are the voices of the long dead Mayan, who are non too pleased to have anyone sleeping on their sacred temples and even throw pebbles at the trespassers. I read about one bunch of travellers who had a similar experience, when they slept here. It was superb though, to be the only non Mayan there. Just 5 of us on top of the temple which felt like being on top of the world. The sounds of the jungle surrounding us, especially the Howler Monkeys, howling their lungs out in the black night. You really felt like you were in the jungle, somewhere special. We came down pretty quickly once darkness set in.

Next day it was the start of the ardous trek home. Our guide did show us some tombs etc. on the way.

Food was more limited and was pasta again. My energy levels high at the start were beginning to wane due to the wheat. I could feel myself falling behind. Maor was too but he was just getting bored of the view of trees and more of the same trees.

That evening we arrived back at our first camp. We were hot and stinking dirty after 4 days of walking without showers or a hint of water on our bodies. There was a stagnant pond near the camp, so we stood on a shaky platform and lowered a bucket into the water to use to wash ourselves and our clothes. The water was quite brown but we didn´t dare go into the pond, as there were lots of strange things lurking in it that popped up every now and then . The guides didn´t go in either strangely enough. It looked like something from prehistory. We were all having a great laugh and playing cards, when Eduard got in a grump and started an argument over some card rules. The rest of us were just chilled but he went off on one and that was the end of the card game. I really liked the other 3 but he was beginning to be painful. We would all be having a lovely conversation in English, which we all understood and then Eduard would start speaking French to Charles and that would be it. They would continue in French. Charles was a lovely chap and was fluent in German, so had chats with Julian when walking etc or was goofy with Maor with whom he got on like a house on fire, as if they had know each other for years. He was also better at English and Spanish than Eduard and loved to talk in any Language.

I think Eduard was jealous and just wanted Charles to himself. It was an odd and unfriendly situation. Later when I mentioned that maybe it would be nice to give a tip, it was Eduard who said we had paid enough for the trip and didnt want to give anymore. Charles went along with Eduard but I feel he would have gone along with us, if Eduard had not said anything. I said that was his choice but the guides were not the ones who received much of our money or choose the food.

The last day was a real struggle for Maor who was soo bored and lagging behind. I lent him my ipod as his had run out and he had shared his speakers with us. HE was grateful and perked up.

However, about 3 hours towards the end the bottom of my boots separated from my heel. Our guid e suggested putting some rope around. That helped but it kept slipping. I limped well behind with the guide for the last part. The boys shot ahead. At the village where we were to be picked up, I b ought some beer for the guides and that was that we were delived by truck back at our hostel. It was first to the showers and then a good sized meal from Los Amigos. Julian, Maor and I sat down near the french but again Eduard tried to speak in french. I really dont want to have any more to do with him. Neither did Julian. We left. He seemed to be nicer to Maor, so he stayed.

It was soo good to go to bed. Next day I just sat, read or watched DVDS and rested and didnt even go outside the hostel. It was nice to take a day off.

Next day I organised the sunrise tour to Tikal. One of the most famous if not THE most famous Mayan temple site in Central America.

I had to get up at 3am and by 4.30 we were at the site in pitch darkness. My head torch that I had brought specially for such occasions, MALFUNCTIONED. It was a struggle to turn it on and then it just flashed. So I kept it low to the ground. There were quite a few people at the site. Maybe a hundred. So different from El Mirador. I had hoped to do them in reverse.

We got to the temple and the head of the Tikal site told us that he had just won the right to continue doing the sun rise tours but there was a risk all the time that the powers that be would stop permitting them. Climbing the temple took about 10 minutes. It is a tall one. We all sat at the top waiting for the sunrise. I had been warned that it would be misty so had no expectations. Others I think were dissapointed. The director at one point told us to be quiet as there was too much noise. He reminded people this was a temple, a sacred place. We could hear the howler monkeys again and then a family of these racoon creatures came by. They were so cute but apparently viscious. Our guide was an amazing character. Really knowledgeable and entertaining. He had many funny anecdotes and kept us enthralled til 8am. One of the workers came up to him and showed him a tarrantula which we got to take a foto of.

Some of the temples you can just climb up others have a stairs constructed to the side. One of these was incredibly steep and various people struggled on the way down as they could then see how far they had climbed. That slowed things down a bit. Lol.

The place was phenomenal though, even with all the tourists. I was able to wander around by myself once the tour had ended. At one stage I came across another guide, showing a caiman (sort of like a small crocodile) sunbathing itself near the lake. Even got some photos.

I took another nights rest before heading to my next destination Lanquin. I met 2 girls Anne and Adi in the hostel and they were on the same shuttle. It was about 8 hours there but some nice views. At one stage our mini bus had to get on this wooden raft type thing and be ferried across the river by this small motor. It seemed a nice little town from the colours of the houses and the little motor boats ferrying people across the river.

At Lanquin, we tried to get into El Retiro. This hostel has loads of little cabins and a restaurant ina wonderful setting by the river and is usually booked solid every day. We didnt arrive till 4pm, I got lucky and got the last bed but the girls managed a hammock each but were actually really pleased with this, as it was cheaper.

I ended up spending 5 days here. It was great to jsut have a rest and read and chill. At the start it was a bit clique with too many Isrealies but then the non Isrealies or Isrealies who didnt want to hang out with other Isrealies found each other. One of the barmen was Irish then I met another guest from Dublin and his friends. A German girl, and American with English parents and this 60 something Psychologist. They were a brilliant gang and the conversations were riveting. I also met this guy called Guillaume, of a French mother and an English father but brought up all over, mostly in India. He was trying to start a business in Guatemala, as he really didn't fancy living in England. I found his perspectives really interesting and we had some good chats.

On my third day, I went on the tour to the National park in Samuc Champey.We were driven there in this jeep along a pretty rough dirt track. We passed this other truck doing the same tour. I have nevr seen such a packed truck. We all had to take a foto adn they took one of us.
The first stop was Cuevos de Marias. This are underground caves, through which he local river runs. We had to carry candles or overhead torches. As my over headtorch broke, it was candle time. We followed our guide through pretty cold water, often upto or past or heads, although most was waist deep. It was fun. Then it was off to the swing. A rope had been tied to a tree and we all got to swing into the racing river, after that, it was into the inner tubes of tracktors and we floated with the current towards a designated spot. Then it was onto the bridge. We were supposed to jump off this bridge into the river. I couldnt do it. It was just too high. I was dissapointed but wasnt the only one to renege.

Then it was Le Piece de resistance. The Samuc Champey park itself. I followed the path to the Mirador (Look out point). I wasnt going to but thought, I might regret it. Oh my god I would have been devastated if I had missed it. The view of the pools below was absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. I stayed a while to take it all in then I wandered off to take a dip. It was pretty cool to jump[ in but it was cold too. Lucky the weather had improved.

At one point under the pools, the river is forced underground. In the rainy season, i.e. now, the water is a cauldron and anyone falling in, falls to their immediate death. I was apparently getting to near and I heard a whistle. Security showed me where to go and not to go. I met this young French student (Julian), studying ecology etc. here in Guatemala. He has no camera, so I obliged and took some fotos and promised to send them.

Later, our guide took us to the point where the river escapes its underground path. We had to climb down this rope ladder about 7 feet, with water pouring down after and on top of us. It was a bit dicey. Our guide did it by herself and tested the ladder, then helped all of us with the water lashing against her. Respect was well due. It was amazing to see the water surging out from underground. There was still a gap between the river and the cave ceiling. But there was a tree lodged at the top that had been deposited at a higher water level. . The river at times reaches the ceiling. Unreal. No photos as there was too much water. I should have got a disposable waterproof camera for these occasions... bummer.

I got so blue I was allowed up in the first batch. I seem to be feeling the cold really badly, more than anyone else.

Got back to El Retiro in time for dinner. Hung out on the Veranda with some ISrealis that were singing and playing guitar. It was really lovely and they were a lovely bunch. I had been swinging in the hammock and one of them sat to the side of me and was using his foot to swing me. I thougt he was just doing it for somethign to do with his feeet. But then I realised he was making a move. Oh bless. He was only 24. Nipped that in the bud.

Lazed around again and chatted to Julian. We met these Aussies and spent a few hours going down in the current of the river running alongside El Retiro. Cold but cool. Julioan and I walked to the bat cave around 5pm. It is a huge cave system but we only went a little in. We were there to see the bats (About a million of them) leave the cave at sunset. It was a bit scattered though as there were too many people using cameras with their flash, so it was confusing the bats. Security came to the rescue and then we took a few photos. There were a LOT of bats. Superb!

We went up to Lanquin village with some Aussies, who had found this great cheap taco place for dinner.

25September.
I took the long way, apparently the more scenic route to Nebaj from Lanquin.
I got on the bus about 8.30 in Lanquin but we circled the town looking for more customers for an hour. Finally I got to Coban, where I took the bus to Sacupulas and then to Nebaj. By the time I got to Nebaj, it was raining from the heavens. I got fairly wet. I tried to put my plastic cape over me and my bag but only succeeded in covering my front. I got a little moto taxi to take me to the hostel. He had no idea of where it was,, so rang the number from his mobile. You can tell you are not in a tourist town. I was charged such a cheap fare and not for the call. I gave a tip.

The hostel is cold as is everywhere in Nebaj. I am in the mountains. It is COLD here and very very wet. I have no closed shoes. I am freezing. Heating is not something that is an option here. The hostel is basic and I am the dorm of 10 beds alone. there is one other guest, I have not met.

I hung my clothes from various beds in the vain hope they might dry. I wandered into town to get food, then interneted for a short while and then to bed I think I read. It must have been 8pm. Oh my god how early is that.

26September.
Awake before dawn. At breakfast, some Mayan arrived to talk to the owner. One of them introduced himself as Victor. He belongs to a cooperative and wanted to show me it so I can tell others about it and maybe organise funding etc. OR I guess donate... He spoke Spanish. The owner had given 2 rabbits to Victor for his kids. So I carried them for him so I could pet them. They were so cute. I was taken to his home and met his wife and kids. He showed me the laptop that someone had given them. About 50 kids now have access to this computer for homework etc. They are trying to buy a mouse for it. He showed me a book and some letters, fotos from other westerners who were helping the cooperative. It is mostly a women's cooperative. Victor seems to be the spokes man. Many people here do not speak Spanish only their own mayan language.

I met the director and the secretary of the group as well. He showed me the fields they were working on. They plan cauliflower and many other vegetables as well as keep chickens. I took details and later asked the hostel owner about it. He seems to help the local community a lot and has been in Nebaj for 7 and in Guatemala for a total of 21. So was here during all the troubles. I think he has seen a lot.

Later, that evening, I went to the local cooperative cafe, set up by 2 peace corp volunteers. I met Adi and Anne, whom I had met in Flores and travelled with to Lanquin. They were here to learn Spanish. It was nice to see them.

27September.

I awoke before dawn. As seems to be normal now. At breakfast, I met the other guest. He introduced himself as Amenon. Amenon is here for a month. Volunteering with an agency working with identifying massacre victims and returning the identified bodies to the families. He explained that the agency and he as part of that, interviews the families of those that were massacred. This helps locate the bodies. Although very often, people don't remember exactly where the murders happened or the trauma has wiped their brains of details. It can take a series of interviews etc. After the bodies are located or an approximate area has been identified. He and his colleagues dig up the area, this often involves digging multiple places due to inaccurate information. Once located, the body is exhumed, and sent for a post-mortem and DNA investigations to Guatemala city. Once that is complete. The body is finally given back to the family for reburial in the traditional Mayan or Christian way.

He often attends the whole process. He said that in a few months time, they will have 50 bodies in the one month to locate etc. At the moment, he was working on a case where the grandmother, her daughter and granddaughter were all killed in their home over 10 years ago. It took three days to locate the bodies on this occasion and they were to be buried this week, finally. This must be very emotional but it provides closure for so many families. I think if my spanish was so much better this is something I would like to do.

During the war/unrest, in the 80s especially, the army and various private thugs working for landowners or large companies killed thousands. It is only in the recent years that anything has been done to try to identify bodies or locate missing persons etc. Albeit not with much help fromt eh government. Facilities were few and also people were afraid or traumatised or had run away to other towns or countries and have only now come back. I was amazed at what Amenon was doing. But he had been in the army so I guess, he was more prepared than many others would be.

We spoke about memory. Many of the interviews are inaccurate. My take on it is that on occasions when something is traumatic, like a crime etc. The memory can deteriorate rapidly. Which is why the police try to get a statement as soon as possible from witnesses/victims etc. From his experience, he thought that trauma would make the event even more clear and unforgettable. His theorised, that preseding psychology of the person would dictate the memory. Up to a point I agree but I think it all interplays . I explained about Sues bag being taken in Havana and how both of us struggled to remember exactly what clothes the boys wore, as the day wore on. I got the impression that he thought he would always remember no matter what and that it was a weakness in others if they didn't remember. I thought this was a very narrow view, even arrogant. But he was a bit up his own arse. We agreed to leave it, as it depends on the person and how traumatic.. That kind of ended the conversation.

It was market day. The town was really buzzing. Hundreds of local Mayan in traditional dress had arrived. I got waylaid by a local, asking the usual questions like where do you come from etc. Most locals, don't approach you, so I new something was coming. In this case, he took out a photocopy of a page from the rough guide or something indicating he was a brilliant local guide. After haggling, I was taken on a short tour of the town.

Casper, as he was called, brought me to the cemetery, there he showed me a monument and the grave of 1200 people who had been massacred. Most of the graves were small wooden/iron crosses. It is all many can afford. Some were larger tombs. It had been built in Jun 2008. I think they may have been bodies exhumed, identified and reburied. A short distance, we went to another cemetery. Here were 2 cement structures about the size of a medium to large bedroom. At the first hut, my guide opened the wooden door. It took me a few moments to realise what it was. The room was full of small crosses. There were some Mayan people praying, crying and offering gifts inside. Candles had been lit, as had incense. I realised it was a mass grave. I didn't go in or take a foto as suggested. An insensitive suggestion I think. This was private and should be left so. This apparently was a grave for adults. I was then shown the other room, a grave of many children. A cross for each child. There were a lot of crosses.

A 5 minute walk away, another memorial for another massacre. But here the bodies had not been identified or at least not all. Another hut housed the crosses for 300 children killed and buried here together.

The reality of war is much more raw here. There is a lot of mass burials. For some there will be no closure, no identified body, to place a candle or a flower beside. What is worse, is that some families don't know if their child or loved one escaped or was kidnapped. Some children were sent for adoption to other countries, the US especially. Some families will never find out. It must be a terrible thing to bear. Although it is hard to find out someone is dead, at least you know and have closure.

At the market, much was on the streets. I loved it. So many beautiful costumes. Many of the men especially the older ones wore their straw hats or cowboy hats. Before meeting Casper, I had seen 30 or so, mostly men queuing up round the block of some building. It was an amazing sight. So many straw hats. I was itching to take a foto but the amateur photographer is still fighting the idea of the tourist voyeur. I asked about it later and I was told it was most likely men who had fought on the side of the government. The government hired a lot of mayans to spy on their own people and they still receive some remittance. Not of course those who really suffered because of it.

Cuba, a dream come true. Aug 10 to Sep 04

2008-10-03T00:45:00.054+01:00

10Aug

Finally I have arrived in Cuba. I have wanted to come here for so long. Bizarrely, I landed before Sue did, so I was able to greet her when she landed rather than the other way around as we had expected.

It was funny as loads of Cubans and tour operators were greeting the new people and there was I shouting Sues name like I was a native. ha ha We had a laugh about it.

We got a taxi to our Casa Particular. However, we had to wait a few hours before we got to enter our room. If we had known, we could have gone earlier for food. Then we found out that the casa didnt serve food on Sundays. We were directed to a cafe a little way away. However, it was just sandwiches or sandwiches. Not a good start. I had already had a few days where I had eaten pasta or bread, so eating more was going to play havoc with my body. But I was starving. The gent behind the counter was very friendly and chatted to us. Of course, he offered his services as a guide. This was indicative of things to come. Later, 2 gentlemen invited us over to their table to join them for a drink. One spoke English, Jesus and seemed quite taken with Sue. It was difficlut to extricate ourselves from their company and offers of taking us out. However, we said we would ring Jesus, (oh my god that looks so bizarre written down) if we found the time to do so. We scuttled off giggling. Sue is such a man puller.

It was so good to sleep, having been deprived of so much of it over the last few days. Oh the sheer bliss.

11Aug

We had a lovely breakfast served to us in the littlecourtyard outside our room. Fruit, bread, juice and eggs. I declined the bread. It was a lovely start to the day and the couple who run the casa are just the most adorable, genteel, helpful peoole.

We walked around the Plaza de La Revolution. The massive statue of Jose Marti, a beautiful white marble of the poet and icon of pre 20century independance, in thought, dominating the plaza. Across the way, the famous mural of Earnesto "Che" Guevara and his immortal phrase "Hasta La Victoria Siempre". We were really here.

After a visit to the museum and fotos of the views etc. we walked on to the Famous Havana Cemetery. We walked along the wide street to the Cemetario where many martyrs of the struggles before and during the revolution are buried.

It was a pleasant street and the sun was streaming down. I was walking ahead, as I do. I head a murmur behind me and when I looked behind, what I thought I saw was Sue showing her shoulder bag to a young guy and another one was to the left of her. I couldn’t figure out why she was doing that. Then in a sudden rush of realisation, it hit me that sue was trying to hold on to her bag, as this thief was trying to rip it off her. I ran up but it was too late. The shoulder strap just gave as I touched her and the 2 guys rang off to the cemetery. I held Sue back, who had wanted to chase them but my first impulse was to protect her. The thought struck me forcefully that they could punch her in the face or her chest or stomach.

I was shaking and Sue was angry. I was sorry I held her back but some instinct took over before I could stop it. She had a few moments longer to grasp the situation before I realised what happened. I felt absolutely lousy for her. I realised my sugar levels were low and my body was up the creek because of the lack of calories this morning and the bad diet over the last few days was playing even more havoc. If I had been fully aware, I might have been able to help her sooner. But it took so long for my brain to process what was happening. I just felt like crap. She had just lost her bag, her camera, over a hundred pounds, her glasses and a few other things.

She was lucky shedidn´t have her passport etc. But she was suitably shocked and annoyed and shook up. Anything I could say would have be inadequate. It was unbelievable. Havana is one of the safest cities and renowned as such. It was 2.30 in the day, we were on a lovely street, that would normally be busy but just not then. We got ourselves together and continued to walk to the cemetery. We saw some policemen and I tried in my crap Spanish to tell them what had happened after I searched the dictionary for the word Robbed. They seemed totally disinterested in going into the cemetery or following it up. But they did tell us where to go to report it.

We went to the only café we had seen and yet again I had to have a sandwich but I knew I had to eat. This whole wheat problem and trying to find food that was not wheat based was getting to be incredibly tiresome. But we had time to calm down recover from the experience.

We went into the cemetery and I tried to explain to the guard what had happened. I left Sue near the guards and my bag and wandered up to the section of the fence they jumped over, in the vain hope that they had dropped the bag somewhere, so could rescue at least something from the situation. I walked around where I thought it would be. But nothing!
I came back and one of the guards walked with us and then organised that one of the cemetery attendants escort us around. This proved to be a blessing, as it distracted us a little and made us feel a lot safer. He also showed us the graves we were interested in and told us a little about them. He was a lovely chap and told us about his daughter who was going to be a doctor and his son who was going to be a musician, as he felt there was more money in that than medicine. We had to agree sad though it was.

We decided it was best to go to the police station. They kept us waiting for about 30 or so minutes, then we were brought into the office of someone who seemed to be high up. We explained again and he asked us for a complete description of the thieves. It was amazing how our memories had already deteriorated. We did the best we could but there were gaps. Sue tried to remember as much as she could what was in her bag for the police report, so she could claim it back on her insurance.
The bizarrest thing then happened. They put us into a police car and took us to the scene of the crime. There were 3 of them. They took photos of where it happened and then over by the cemetery wall where the absconders had jumped the fence into the cemetery. The purpose of all this was beyond me. We did see the man on the balcony that we were sure saw the whole thing that happened beneath him but the police didn’t bother to question him. They went about their business with the camera work etc. very thoroughly and professionally but it all seemed to be some show for our benefit and totally inappropriate. They barely asked us anything.
Sue and I at least were enjoying the hilarity and adventure of it all and it made the horrid theft a bit less awful.
They then took us home. Whey hey. it is not every day you get driven to your abode in a police car.

Returning to the casa Particular, we regaled the story. They were shocked and very sympathetic and served us a beautiful dinner. I at last was able to eat something that was good for me. The relief was immense. But I still felt lousy for Sue, especially as she remembered more things that had been in her bag.
I had to be more careful in future and get some snacks to keep my sugar levels up especially in case something like this happens again.. I have never been somewhere where it was impossible to get simple snacks. There just weren’t any shops or not with anything worth buying. It was the most bizarre situation.

12Aug
We went looking for china town but were sadly dissapointed with the selection of chinese restaurants. However, we did find a steam engine graveyard which was pretty cool.

We walked around the main plaza with its replica of the US white house a sort of ironic monument to see in Cuba, but there it was. Splendid but so out of context. It was surrounded by other plazas, all with amazing colonial architecture, most of which had been renovated.

The streets were wide and not clogged with traffic as many other grand cities. The array of amazing cadillacs and other classic cars in all conditions, kept my camera snapping. They were just so beautiful and soooo plentiful.

We wandered over to one of the most famous cigar factories in the world. But as luck would have it it was closed for the summer holidays. I mean what are the chances of that. But we wandered into the shop anyway and snapped away. It really was old world.

Getting food was hard. We were unused to the city and were in the wrong place again. So we ended up going to this rather posh hotel, as we thougth it would give us a better variety. Well it sort of did. But even the posh hotels have a very limited menu. Although, we had a nice salad and fresh juice.

The city is amazing. So many buildings, have been renovated but still there are just as many about to crumble from neglect, and as many again that are in the process of renovation. It is easy to see where the money from tourism has gone. I just love being here. However, our happiness is marred by the remaining sense of alertness for another mugging. It is a shame. Still we were enjoying ourselves.

We were on the trail of Ernest hemmingways old haunts, The Mundo hotel, still with his room, as he left it, the last time he stayed. It is now a museum. We didn´t go to the room but did have a cocktail on the roof terrace, as you do. Refreshed, we kept up our wanderings, just mesmerised. Sue said that she found sooo many changes since she was last here, about 7 years ago.. Then the streets were full with locals living street life or parading for fotos in historical costumes. Now there are only a few token people left for the foto opportuinites. The main streets have been cleaned up. hmmm.

Well one the many things Havana is known for, is the fact that Ernest Hemingway played hard there, among many of the rich elite of the 50s and 60s. He went one step further though, and scribbled on the wall, in his favourite bar. "The floridita for my daiquiris and the bodega for my mojitos" This forever put these bars firmly on the path to posterity and mass tourism. So of course we had to go.

Sue and I put our glad rags on and headed there for our pre dinner "Floirita" daiquiris. And yea we took the requisite fotos of the bronze of old ernie standing in his favourite spot at the bar. It is quite lifelike. Fotos of Hemingway line the walls, while the line of mass produced daiquiris line the bar, ready for the hoards of tourists willing to overspend their hard earned CUKs. I won´t say the daiquiri was the best I have had but...

Things have changed a lot since hemingway´s day, thats for sure. But hey it was fun. Today we wandered again into the heart of city. Sue saw these police officers lining up for inspection etc. and decided to join the force. It was priceless. They were so cool and played along with it. They thought it was hillarious and dont you just love Cubans. Although note the er em footless tights. Wouldn´t get that style at home...

TRINIDAD
13Aug. we went to the bus station, The casa owner came with us to protect us while we got money from a local exchange. God bless him you could blow him over with a feather but it was so sweet of him. We got on the bus and arrived in Trinidad to be welcomed by our new Casa. She seemed really lovely. It was not quite the one we booked but... We had a lovely room. We walked around looking for a restaurant. I really wanted to go to one in the book, as I felt I could get more than pasta or pizza. I was so hungry and so fed up with wheat. We couldn’t find the restaurant and my head was hurting so much as I could feel the sugar being drained from it. I could barely process the info on the map. We had to go to some other one. Of course there was limited selection. At least we got something. Later, when I saw a supermarket, I stocked up on raisins and peanuts. Phew at last I had something to snack on.

We walked around Trinidad, an incredibly charming town. Beautiful cobbled streets between magnificent restored buildings with the odd dilapidated grand dame in between. Every street held a new wonder yet again for us. It was also a place you never quite knew what you were going to see. At the church we saw a wedding. It was so elegant and the bride wore red.

That night we had food at our casa. It was superb and so much of it. It is strange though, all the china, furniture is from the 40s and 50s. when it was possible to import things and people had more access to foreign. There is nothing from the 60s, 70s or 80s in our house. Except of course the TV and one or 2 electronics. Usually things are in good condition but the odd chipped cup. Everything is carefully treated. It is like time stood still after the revulution.
14Aug
We took an organized tour to the sugar plantation. Some time ago it was possible to go through the sugar plantation on a train specially built for this purpose but this had ceased to function. I think it was a problem of spare parts. It is not possible to get much here. It was beautiful country side. We go to have a beautiful fresh lemonade though...

Back in town, we went for a coffee near the Casa de Cultura. It was a beautiful sunny square and the cafe were on the steps.
We bargained with a local who asked us if we wanted at taxi to the beach as we had missed the bus. Totally illegal but such good fun and as the legal ones cost a fortune... We were a bit nervous when he stopped to take another guy on. And thought oh god they think they are on to a good thing with 2 girls etc. but no it was all ok. They just went to the beach.
The beach was lovely but limited in food again. Just a greasy hamburger or a greasy hamburger. So we had one of those.
Later we met a Canadian couple waiting for the public bus back to the beach but it didn´t come. So we walked to the tour group hotel. I asked the doorman to get us a taxi. So then this man arrives in a Cadillac and we all get in. 5 minutes down the road, we pass a cop on a motorcycle, questioning a stationary car. Our driver sped on and told us to say we were his friends. The cop followed and pulled us over. We were all forced to get out and the driver was sent on his way. Then the taxi that I think we actually did order turned up. It looks like the taxi waiting outside the hotel called the police. Anyway we got home.
Later, we went to dinner at a restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet. Oh my god I was I in heaven. The food was superb. Most of it had been procured through the black market and was certainly illegal. But oh soooo good. It was the best meal we had eaten. We would have gone every night but we felt obliged to eat in the Casa at least some of the time.

We went back to the Casa de Cultura for some Trova and salsa. Sue got to dance. I didn’t bother. I just don’t know how and don’t like embarrassing myself unnecessarily. The place was packed. Locals and foreigners alike sat at tables or procured a position on the many steps around the casa and café & bars. We stayed till midnight. It was such a balmy night and the music was jumping. The band was at least a 6 piece, with various dancers giving it their all to the music.

The next day we organized another illegal taxi to the beach with a taxi driver.
This time we went to one just before the one we went to yesterday. It was lovely too. We waited for the official bus and waited and waited but eventually we got some bus so got home for cheaper than the day before and without incident. Ah.
Had another wonderful dinner at our casa and hit the Casa de Cultura for another brilliant music session.
Getting out of Trinidad proved to be a bit of a problem but we decided to just turn up on the day and hope to get on a bus, even though we were only able to reserve for the following day. But we were lucky and got the bus.

SANTIAGO
We had arranged through our Casa particular for one of her friends to put us up. The road to Santiago was interesting. Many modes of transport are used and most are crowded. There is a lot of beauty but relative poverty too but not really as bad as I have seen in many other countries. On arrival in Santiago, we were met by a taxi. We had a really good place right outside the centre. So quiet at night and only a 20 minute walk to town. It was interesting in this casa. There was a lot of mod cons and modern cups etc. you could tell there was a lot more money here. We came to the conclusion that, she must have relatives in Spain as the email address she uses is a Spanish one. We are beginning to be able to see the difference in the Casas and who has relatives abroad or is making more money.

Santiago was a bit edgier than Trinidad. However, there seemed to be a bit of racism too. When we told people about Sues robbery, the usual question was if the thieves were black and when we said yes there was various tut tuting.

We liked Santiago though. There was a lot of activity by Fidel and Che down here. This was where they landed in their yacht Grandma. This was where much of the rebellion was organized in the start etc. The presence of many murals attested to this.
We went to see the barracks, where Fidel etc. tried to attack and saw the bullets. There were a lot of them.

We also went to a beautiful fort that had been used during colonization. We met 2 girls from Eastern Europe who went with us. Later that evening we met up with them in Casa Grande. They had bumped into 3 English lads that lived near where Sue and I have lived.
There are again amazing buildings here. We tried to get into the Bacardi family museum but it was shut each time. The Bacardi family emigrated from Cuba after the revolution when the new govt. took their lands. Although the Bacardi family was offered compensation for them, they left very bitterly and were and are responsible for much of the Anti Cuban feelings in the US. They moved their Bacardi Rum making facilitie

s and offices to the Dominican Republic where they still remain.

We lunched in the Hotel Casa Grande, the poshest place in town. But bizarrely it is managed by a foreign company and has the most reasonable food. We went to Casa de Trova for one of the afternoon sessions. This is the centre for Traditional Cuba Trova music in Santiago. It was such a cool place with fabulous photos. It really was like stepping back in time. There was one old lady there tapping away to the music. She even got up to dance. She looked like she had been coming here since the place was built over a hundred years ago. She came and chatted to me and told me about her breast cancer and god knows what else. I did end up giving her a little money. She was soooooo old, I had to.

We were usually exhausted each day from all the walking around. There was just so much to see.

As were going to the bus station to go to Baracoa, I got to see the Monument to Antonio Maceo, one of the early and few revolutionaries that was half indigenous.

Honduras, ruins, ruined diving, ruined tired.

2008-10-02T23:06:00.025+01:00

30Jul
I got up really early to get the bus to El Poy, the last Salvadorian town before the Honduras border. What a waste of time. The bus was heaving and I could not get on let alone my huge rucksack and 2 other bags. So I went back to the hostel, had breakfast and tried again an hour and a half later. This time the bus even had seats. A well dressed cowboy, including cowboy hat befriended me. He told me where to get off and pointed me to the border when we arrived. I just love the salvadorians. Some of the loveliest people I have encountered. It saddens me to leave. I walked across the border. It was easy. The most effort was trying to locate a soldier to look at my passport. I thought I would have to have it stamped and they would as usual charge me. But no, here they were honest.

Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua and Guatemala have an agreement known as the C4. They allow pretty much free passage between the countries once you have been stamped one the first one you entered. However, the odd time some unscrupulous guard charges you. I find it easier to pay the 2 or 3 dollars then argue, as I am never quite sure anyhow what the rules are. I looked for a bus to take me to Nueva Ocotepeque. When I asked this taxi driver he quoted me 5 dollars.

So I walked on. At the Honduran side, I asked the soldiers where the bus was. A taxi came buy and they said why not take that. But he said 20. I said no it was too expensive. The lady soldier then pointed out that it was 20 lempira, not 20 dollars. That is about 1 dollar. I felt an idiot and laughed. They thought it was hilarious. But when you are a foreigner, you get quoted such ridiculous prices, that it hadn't twigged with me. Well the bus came along then and all was well. At Nueva Ocotepeque, it was onward to La Entrada. The driver forgot to tell me where I was to get off and it wasn't that obvious. So I had to jump off the bus on the highway a way out of town. After asking a food seller which direction for Copan, she flagged a moto taxi for me and explained where to go.

At Copan Ruinas, due to floods, the bus was unable to take us right into town but it was just a hop, skip and a jump over puddles to the centre. I got a moto taxi to a hostel but no answer and the taxi had disappeared. I was glad though, as I realised it was a bit far out once I had walked the long way back to the centro. It was time to eat. I had been travelling for hours. The centre was wet but delightful. It is a bit of a tourist enclave though. Well it is the most popular tourist centre in Honduras, in fact in much of Central America. But it has retained a certain charm, as have the people. I spent a few days walking around town, exploring museums and the myriad of cobbled streets, shops and of course cafes.

01AugJul
Walked to the Enchanted Wings Butterfly house. A butterfly farm, created by an American nature expert and ex Peace Corp. I had the place to myself. The young assistant explained they take the larvae and hold it in special wooden boxes until it is ready to become a butterfly. Many of the butterflies are moved to Roatan Island, for the butterfly farm there, as they are not as successful at breeding. Some of the caterpillars were as big as my hand and thats pretty damn big. It was weird walking around. None of the orchids were in bloom but many of the butterflies landed on my shoulder or shoes etc. if I stood for more than a minute. It was disconcerting as this has never happened to me in the wild. Some of the butterflies had this huge eye design on their wings.

It was a pretty cool place.

I hopped into a moto taxi to the Macaw Mountain bird sanctuary. The gent who escorted me and 2 older Israelis around, had lived in America, and had owned a successful restaurant in Copan. He had just sold it, so was helping out his friend who owned the sanctuary. All the birds here have been found by locals, recovered from poachers etc. Now the government actually send birds here too, as it acknowledges the sanctuary. As a result. if a bird dies, the sanctuary has to keep the body to show it to the govt inspector, as proof they didn't sell it.

There was an amazing amount/variety of toucans, parrots and macaws. The grounds are like a tropical forest and a pleasure to walk around. They have a souvenir shop and also now have their own coffee plantation, the profits of which go to maintain the sanctuary. At the end of the tour, a guard brought in a baby armadillo, whose mother had been killed on the road. It was soooooooooo cute. They will take care of it here, a new addition to the family.

Walking around later admiring the jewellery stalls, I ran into Jeremiah again, the guy I had met sailing from Colombia. This must be the 5th time we have met. Had to laugh. He said my Spanish had improved. As has his English.

02Aug.

An early start. Today I see the famous ruins. When I hit the reception and main plaza of the ruins, I thought oh god there are so many people here, bus loads. I ventured off a little and lost them. My next view was of 5 or six parrots, toucans in the trees and another batch on the fence. It was great wandering around, climbing up the temples, many of which have been reconstructed or repaired. Albeit, many still connected to the jungle, with trees and their roots strangling the bricks, a reminder of how they looked pre-discovery. It was definitely worth the US$15. There were some brilliant sculptures e.g. my favourite: the Old mans in the foto here. Also one of the highlights here was hieroglyphic stairs, with its amazing carvings and drawings outlining the reign of the kings here etc. as well as the giant sculpture at the foot of the steps again in a foto here.

I didn't pay to go into the tunnels. This I really regretted, once I entered the museum. Underneath one of the pyramids, was an earlier pyramid/temple, now known as the Rosalea temple. It was common for the Mayans to build a temple for one king, over a previous temple of an earlier king. A recreation of this temple was built in the museum. It had all the colours and faces of the kings, gods etc intact. The original had been spared the vengeance of the sun and the jungle, so it provided an immense amount of information and detail previously lacking. The museum itself was stunning and well laid out. The Rosalea was constructed in the centre of the museum, with the museum in two levels encircling it. The centre of which, and thus the temple itself, open to the sun. I would have gone back into the ruins and paid to see the original but I was too tired, having walked around for several hours. A shame.

03Aug.

5am start and of course today, no one is leaving the hostel to go to the bus which is a walk away down an empty dark street, I would rather avoid. Each morning, I have been woken by people with their wheelie suitcases making such a racket. OF course when I want someone to be awake...However, a few of the locals were up, so it was not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I took the expensive shuttle with hedman Atlas, instead of the cheaper local buses as I wanted to get to the ferry in La Ceiba before it left.

I arrived at the ferry port, at about 2, bought my ticket to find that the ferry had not run at all that morning and there was quite a few people that had been there for hours. Luck was still with me, as I was one of the few to still get on AND the ferry left an hour early. RESULT!!!!.

The first person I met on the ferry was Sonia, one of the girls who drove me to La Palma in El Salvador. What a coincidence. So I sat next to her and Sahara a girl from London, who were seated next to 4 Salvadorians, who had started drinking the supplies in their beercooler at 10.30 am. They were a hoot. We sat outside, as it is more fun. We got drenched as the waves landed and crashed on the deck. But we had a laugh and got a foto afterwards of the three of us wet rats.

Alex, who had been working in Altons, recommended it, so we all headed there. Luckily we got accommodation and I booked myself on a diving course. I had 2 days to read and absorb the diving manual. Sarah and Christen were there as a welcome party. It was so good to see them. It was going to be a mad week. I also met Johnny, that I had met in Grenada. Sarah ended up getting to know him too before I came, even though she had not met before. bizarre connections.

The original plan was to meet Alex in Utila, one of the Bay Islands in Honduras. Famous for its cheap diving underwater beauty and backpacking party scene. I had organised my trip around Alex being on the Island and the island for the SunJam festival (a big electronic dance fest.)on 08/08/2008. Alex had been working on the island for a few months, as a dive master. but he had got island crazy and left about a week before I got there. It was a shame, he could not have lasted but I could see why, as the place was too busy and the staff totally overworked. As I had planned various things around the 8th Aug, and had arranged to meet Sarah and Christen. Also I had decided months ago to skip Belize and was psyched up to go to the festival and it would have meant leaving El Salvador earlier and maybe not going back. So I decided not to change my plan and join Alex in Belize, as he offered to meet there.

I did my theory and read the diving manual as part of the course. However, I didn't get a chance to go snorkelling or even for a swim before having to jump into the water with all the diving equipment. I couldn't do it at first. I finally got to jump in with my mask and tank but the tank hit my head rather hard, enough to make it bleed (which I only realised later) and I couldn't bear to remove the mask. I knew that at every step it was just going to take me that bit longer than everyone else to do the tasks and I just couldn't deal with breathing through my nose. I seem to have got worse with this. So I gave up. I was disappointed and felt left out when all the others came back with grins on their faces after all the wonderful things they had seen. But such is life. Maybe I will try again.

That evening, I met some guys, Sarah and Christen had met, who have been coming regularly over the last few years and their fathers before them.
We stayed in the gazebo chatting for hours about everything. Alton an dI had a really good chat on aging, as he is jsut a little younger than I. It was interesting to chat on our experiences. Next day they invited us to go with them by boat, to go snorkelling near Water Cay. Sarah and I decided to lie on the roof of the boat. We had to hold on for dear life as the boat bounced over the waves on the way to the Cay. Not sure Sarah liked it as much as me though.

The Water Cay is a tiny little islet if you could call it that with just a few trees etc. There are a few other smaller islets around it with one or two houses on them or nothing at all. It was stunning there. The water was really shallow, with turquoise water and white sands. After a lot of tomfoolery, we headed back to the dive centre.

Over my 10 days in Utila we met the boys on a semi regular basis, as well as Alton. This was always a blast and conversation was entertaining. I also met some of the others too for dinner etc. We made it to Treetanic a few times and a few other bars on the island. Treetanic was incredible. The owner has spent the last 12 years or so creating this amazing bar with mosaics made from tiles, bottles and god knows what else. foto attached. The bar is a work of art in progress and pulls in the punters and the money like nothing else in town.

One day I went to the private beach, the nicest beach on Utila, accompanied by this Israeli girl who had similar problems to me and had also given up dive classes. We went snorkelling around this reef but it was a killer to get to as there was a lot of sharp coral. We tried to follow the path to the reef but without shoes it was vicious. The Israeli girl went for another stab at it but I just lay on the beach reading, as I felt uncomfortable going over coral and killing it.

As I was walking back to the dive centre, my name was shouted by this person whizzing by on a golf buggy. It was Brendan from San Juan in Nicaragua. I was so surprised to see him. The last time I saw him, he was in crutches, in a lot of pain and could barely walk after a motorbike accident. As Sarah and Christen also knew Brendan, we all met up for food and drinks that evening. There was definitely a clicking between Brendan and Sarah, so I left them to it, after we started playing pool late into the evening.

Utila is definitely a party town. Although many nights didn't really go out too late. Sarah or christen usually came back with a tale if they went out, which always made me laugh.

07Aug.

After the beach went to treetanic and another bar that turns into a late night club. Everyone was preparing for tomorrow. The boys, Paul, Reed etc were there and were joined by these 2 guys they had been expecting and talking about for days. Apparently they are mad. They didn't seem as mad as some of my friends but I guess we all have different views on madness. ha ha. The music was brilliant, So I just went and did my thing. The others thought I danced mad. As we were dancing on this bench near the wall. I saw Eddy, whom I had met in San Juan. He joined us. Had such a laugh especially watching Christen and Paul taking the pee on the dance floor. We bought some balloons filled with laughing gas and played with those for a while. Then home.

08Aug.

Today is the day of the Infamous SunJam. We are sooooo excited. Spent ages though trying to sort things out, like mail, packing, and most importantly getting money, ATMS are not working and getting cash has been a stuggle. It is going to be a long night and we leave first thing in the am. Then we got the Alton dive centre boat to the Water cay. There were so many boats heading there. The foto here shows the cay, before the 4000+ people arrived. Simply beautiful.

The Israeli girl and Sonia managed to get work behind the bar, so got in free. We got there about 7.30/8. We were early. Those behind the bar were on such a high. The boys, Paul, Reed etc. were there already. It was all a bit subdued and the music was ok. However, as the night wore on, the music really took off. Nearly everyone I had met was there so danced with different people. It was so amazing, the set up. There was a large bar to the side. Everything was under the stars. If you wanted chill you just went over to the quieter side of the cay where it was darker and you could sit or lie. Some people brought tents so they could take a nap etc. There were food stands too, so all was catered for. It was such a cool night.

09Aug.

At 4.30am it was time to leave. The worst thing was this was when it was really getting at its best. It was really, really difficult to leave. We easily got a boat back to Utila, then grabbed our bags from the centre and managed to get tickets for the 6.30am ferry to La Ceiba. We were really nervous in case the ferry was sold out but we got lucky. A 5 hour bus ride to San Pedro and we were in a hostel and searching for food. We were so exhausted. It was early to bed and again at 6am we were up and on our way to the airport. The girls were flying to the US. so we were all leaving together which was great.

10Aug
At the airport, Sarah, Christen, and this young guy we had met in Utila and I, all decided to meet up next year and go to all the festivals and become international ravers. This cracked us up. I can see them doing it but I think I will be working my butt off back in London or on the dole. Either way no money or no time. On the plane, I was missing the girls. I had such a good time with them. Always something to laugh at. They have such a great sense of humour and fun. Oh well at least I was on my way to something good not back to work. I was really looking forward to meeting up with Sue and seeing Cuba.

From Flowers to Machetes in Ruta del Flores.

2008-10-01T02:15:00.027+01:00

East El Salvador. In Santa Ana, the hostel I chose, Casa Frolaz, was highly recommended in the Lonely planet. The hostel is really the home of the owner. A very regal elegant gentleman. Everything was just so clean and sophisticated. He even had a lovely garden, with chairs and tables for breakfast etc.

On my way into town I met this man selling icecream. He was learning French and didnt have any English so we had a chat in French. He showed me some coins he had which he was exceedingly proud of and asked me If I had any euros, I said I had and he promised to come by later to collect them. However, later I remembered I had given them all to Robert. I felt so bad.

I wandered around town exploring the local sights. The cathedral here is amazing with the interior painted in pink and grey slate. I also got to visit the colonial theatre. This reminded me so much of the theatre in Manaus, Brazil, that I am sure they were influenced by each other. I will send them to you if you wish Dan. However, unlike in Manaus, I was left to my own devices. The interior was of sumptions red velvet and has been so well repaired and maintained. The parquet flooring was identical to Manaus but here was left unpretected with everone walking over it, in their outdoor shoes. The murals on the walls were simply fabulous and a delight to the eye, bringing to mind the French masters or Versaille. There was also a brilliant foto exhibition in the lobby.

Later I ended up meeting my roomates. Lynn from the UK and Erica from the US. Erica, was big into Couch surfing and had met a few of her boyfriends through it and said that a lot of people were now meeting locals in their area through it rather than foreigners coming into town. We had to laugh.

23Jul
Early next day, I went to the ruins of Tazumal. On the bus I met this lovely gent who spoke to me in English. When I asked him how he learnt it, he said it was a long time ago and remained mysterious. Maybe he was with the internationalistas maybe not. He kindly told me exactly where to get off for the ruins and shortened the journey. There were loads of school groups there and one group took a particular shine to me and wanted to know my name etc. They were all giggly and curious, and acknowledged me wherever I went in the ruins during my visit.

The ruins were burial pyramids and were interesting but not hugely. I had wanted to go on a hike but no one was about and it meant meeting with the tourist police so I didnt bother.

24Jul
Today it was adios to Santa Ana and hello bus terminal. I ended up on the wrong bus, as I arrived too early. So it took me an hour or 2 longer. It probably would have been better to get the later bus and still arrive around a similar time if not earlier. Oh well.

I was in Juayua. A little town described as "hip-yet-quaint" in the lonely planet. A major coffee growing area. It is a superb little town. Many of the buildings have these incredible murals on the interior or exterior walls. Works of art throughout the town. A little cafe I went into was covered in it. I was trigger happy for hours. The whole square and church is just picturebook pretty. I met up with my dorm mates 2 young very friendly mexican guys and a rather unfriendly French Canadian girl. I had a great chat with the guys. One was on his way to South El Salvador tomorrow to meet this girl he has been talking to on the internet. They have never met but coincidently happen to be in the same country. He is very excited and we were too for him. I hope it works out.

25Jul
I met up with Lynn and Erica. They were a day ahead of me. We arranged to go to a series of waterfalls called Los Chorros de Calera. The hostel said it was ok to go without the tourist police and another girl who accompanied us had been there the day before. The walk there was nice and not so long. However, there was more water and more people there, so we didnt go for a swim. We started to chat to this young girl in her late teens. She was Salvadorean but had been brought up, if not born in the US. However, she had returned to live with her uncle in El Salvador due to gang problems in the US and was happier for it.

When she, her uncle and 3 young cousins were about to leave. The uncle seemed quite concerned all of a sudden and said we should go too. He said to the others that he had seen 3 young men pointing in our direction with their machetes and he didnt like the look of it. So we all vamosed at a fairly quick pace. Along the path out, the uncle picked up a stick that was lying in a pile. As there was some more, I thought maybe it was a good idea too. I would prefer to have a stick than nothing against a machete. He sent us off in his taxi that was waiting for him and his family at the entrance to the park. The taxi though was a little moto taxi and really should only take 2, max 3. There were 4 of us but we squeezed in. Although when we came to a bit of an uphill, we all had to get out. I had to laugh. We really would have been quicker walking. I dont know if the man over reacted, as I didnt see anything first hand. The young guys could have been just curious but it was better to get out. It was a shame though.

26Jul

Saturday, the girls left. Those left now are couples and not so friendly. I came to Juayua for the "Feria Gastronomical", a food fair held here every weekend. A brilliant tourist gimic that works exceedlingly well. In the morning, hundreds of food and drink stands are set up around the central park. All to the sounds of a DJ and local bands and singers. The food is gooood!!!!!!!!!! Many San Salvadoreans come down from the city, only a few hours drive away for the day or even the weekend. It was buzzing. You can really see the difference though between the wealthy San Salvadoreans in their big cars and sunglasses and the much poorer locals.

After an hour or so of deliberation, I got myself a feast and sat down at one of the many tables spread around. This little boy about 8, came over and wanted to sell me headbands. I could see he was hungry, so offered him some of my dinner. He misconstrued and took my whole plate. I had to laugh. I now had a hairband and no dinner. I didn´t have the heart to correct the mistake.

Then this lady, that had been selling wooven baskets etc., asked if she could sit beside me. When I made to get up, she asked me to please stay. I got the impression that she feared being kicked off. Reading about Juayua, later I realised that there had been indigenous uprisings here. As a result, the govt. forces along with the coffee elite, brutally crushed the insurrection. Today the indigenous people eschew traditional clothing and language for fear differentiating themelves. Sad indeed.

While the lady was eating her dinner. A man dressed as a Mexican bandero, including wide sombrero started singing. He came over and sang to me. Oh god was I red but I got a laugh and some fotos and the lady beside me had a grin. I tried to leave again and she said please stay. So I stayed til she finished. I liked my hairband so much I tried to get more but the boy was gone. Typical eh!!

27Jul Sunday.

I Jumped on the bus to this coffee plantation, to see some pot bellied figures carved from hugh boulders found on the grounds. Turns out the ruins are not where their cafe is and I had not seen them on my journey. So I thought better of it and carried onto the next village. I am now on the continuation of la Ruta del Flores. This is a route through various pretty villages Juayua, Ataco, Apaneca and a few others. The route is so called due to the beautiful flowers that blossom along it, albeit not now. It was still beautiful. Between the villages, the telephone poles are painted with flowers. All different. Along, the road, are many locals brandishing machetes, some in beautiful leather holsters, like ancient swordsmen on their way to the fields etc.. .

The 2 villages I visited Apaneca and Ataco are just lovely. Like Juayua, Ataco has some beautiful murals and craftshops. There was also a rather big local market, so had a jolly good rummage around there. I had a lovely day.

28Jul Monday.

Bused from East El Salvador to a village in Northern El Salvador called Suchitoto. According to the LP, it says if you tell Salvadoreans you are travelling to Suchitoto, they give a nostalgic sigh. Well I did mention this to some locals and that was true. It is beautiful. Lots of whitewashed houses, cobbled streets and an air of tranquility. This is apparently what El Salvador was like in a lot of places before the war and various natural disasters. There are many festivals here, none around now of course. It is an arty but non pretentious, lefty village and there are lots of cultural activities here.

I found a leaflet for this new hostel and ended up in this rustic place with gaps between the walls and the ceiling, through which the insects can get in. The big ones and they came. But I have a TV and lo and behold there is a jacuzzi on the level below me. Beat that.

Suchitoto is just above a picturesque lake. A half hour walk takes you down to the lakeshore. I tried to take a boat tour of it. However, you have to rent the whole boat for US20. Luckily enough a family of El Salvadoreans allowed me to tag along with them. One of the ladies in the group, an El Salvadorean, now living in the US, was on vacation to her family here. The others were her sister, her kids and husband. She spoke English to me and I had a nice chat with her and the family. The ride across the lake was lovely.

After the hard slog back up to Suschitoto in the strong afternoon heat, I deserved an iced tea in this rather nice cafe overlooking the lake and was enraptured there for hours just taking in the magnificent vista til the sun went down.

28Jul

I veged for a while watching tv. It has been so long. Later, I went for a walk with our hostel owner and 3 American girls to a waterfall. Our leader rode on horseback. The walk was nice, as he knew everyone and it was very scenic. The waterfall flows over rocks like the Giants Causaway in Armagh, N. Ireland. Apparently there are very few examples of this type of rock formation in the world. He thought just 3.

The 3 girls are all Medical students and were working in a clinic in the N. of El Salvador. The clinic provides free smear tests etc. to local women and was sponsored by their university in N. Carolina. The all loved the experience, albeit not all of them liked the insects.

29Jul

The girls offered me a ride in their rented car, to La Palma, as they were heading up that way to buy some handicrafts. I very gratefully accepted. I booked into this rather lovely hostel overlooking a rapidly flowing river. I took Sonias email address as we will be in Utila the same time.

La Palma is another arty town. It is covered in colorful murals etc. The famous El Salvadorean painter Fernando Llort moved here in 1972. He is the one who painted the outside of the cathedral in San Salvador. He founded Naive Art. A trend, still representative of El Salvador internationally. This art is primitive, childlike. Many images are of christ or mountain villages or local farmers. The art is very very colourful. Llort started a cooperative and taught the locals how to create handicrafts using this art. Today 75% of the village makes a living from this. The camera was put into good use again and I even managed to buy some nik naks. I would have bought more but...

San Salvador, Another Christ figure, missing museums

2008-09-17T21:31:00.026+01:00

20July
Well I got the bus from Perquin. The bus for San Salvador was waiting to go when I arrived. So off to the big bad bold city. I got a taxi from the bus station for a reasonable price. Surprisingly. The hostel, I wanted was in a lovely leafy suburb near 2 of the museums I wanted to view. I wandered around looking for food but all I wanted was closed as it was Sunday. So ended up in the El Salvadorean equivalent of burger king. Can you beleive it. The food was edible and typical but made me feel a bit off and was not cheap.
That evening, I stayed in the hostel and slept for another change. I ate there and the food was ok.

21Jul Today I ventured into the capital. I had spoken to this Chinese guy on the bus who said it was better not to take anything of value, not even a camera, when walking around, as purse snatchers were know to work the busy streets. El Salvador and especially San Salvador has a reputation. But for me there was no point in going without my camera. So I risked it.

I got delivered by my taxi, right in the heart of the market. He was such a lovely taxi driver and I was so delighted that I understood a lot of what he said. Some people really know how to slow down for non speakers. Others, unfortunately dont.

Unlike other cities, the church and the central park was surrounded by a market, almost crowded out by it, at first pass. It took me an hour or so to get to grips with the layout. Or even find a street name and get my self to the heart. But it was fascinating wandering around the market and checking out the merchandise on offer. The locals were amused and or curious at my presense at times. There were so few tourists. In fact I think I only saw about 4 throughout my whole day in and around all the tourist sights.

I found the cathedral. A pretty impressive sight. A mural, painted by El Salvador´s most famous son, Fernando Llort is on one of the outside walls. He has even decorated part of the White house and MOMO in New York. The art, known as primitive art in incredibly simple and very very colourful. Most unusual for a church. The inside is simple yet quite beautiful.

I did feel conscious though when I was trying to take fotos. I knew I was being watched but mostly it is just curiousity. But you never know.

Later, I was in search of a modern church, that had been decorated internally, with scrap metal. I got distracted and wandered into some streets that I guess were a bit edgy. So thought I had better make my way back. Whilst consulting my map, this local man spoke to me in English and asked if I needed help. I said what I was looking for and he thougth it was odd and nothing special but brought me there. He said he was studying English to become a guide and would I mind chatting. He was really sweet but I was unable to meet him after he had finished his visit to the bank, as I had planned to go to another part of town. It was a shame, as he was so kind.

The glass of the church windows were of a graduating change of colour, which cast a lovely hue on the church interior. The scrap metal figures were most unusual and would be perfectly at home in a london art gallery. It was one of the more unusual churches I have seen.

I got the bus then to this rather large Christ figure. There seems to be a lot of them in Latin America. I am not exactly trying to get them all but they are usually close to other things. However, this is emblematic of San Salvador. As it is the christ on top of the world i.e. The saviour and San Salvadors namesake. It was a nice walk around.

Later that evening I went to this rather impressive shopping mall, close to my hostel. Oh if only I hadnt to carry it all and of course had lots of money. Clothes were so cheap and cool. I went to a movie with popcorn. Ah what luxury. Got a taxi home as it was dark.

We tourists, are still a novelty in El Salvador, so the people are really lovely and not jaded of us. The friendliness is genuine. I was helped so often. Nothing is requested in return. I had so many conversations on buses. Many spoke English as they have been to the US working/living and have come back for various reasons.

22Jul.

Today I went in search of the Museo de Palabra and Imagen (Museum of word and Images). Could I find it, could I heck. I could not even find the street. Even the locals I asked had no idea. Around 11.30 I gave up. Although I saw some Argentinians from my hostel, probably looking for the same thing. I was going to ask but didnt bother, as I knew it shut at 12 for an hour or so.

I wandered off in search of something else to do.

San Salvador has many sophisticated museums and is quite a normal city by western standards. The Modern art museum was amazing mostly because of the hugh external dramatic mural of a naked male. What can I say, it helps. I loved the art there too. Very different from what we have at home.

After an impressive visit to the Ethnology musuem, I was museumed out and went back to the hostel, where I chatted to some of my hostel and room mates. This French man and his son had just booked in. The father had given the trip, including a visit to the surf capital of El Salvador, as a present to his son who had just finished his finals in secondary school. Thought that was pretty cool The son played some guitar for a while which was nice.

I asked the hostel owner where the Museo de Palabra and Imagen was. Apparently it was on a different street then the lone planet indicated. No wonder I couldnt find it. This was one of the main reasons I wanted to visit San Salvador.

This is probably a good time to give a little summary of El Salvadorean history a la Sandra.

In the 19 century due to various circumstances, the coffee growers took over a lot of the land, displacing many of the indigenous people. By the 20 century, 95% of El Salvadors income came from coffee, while 2% controlled the wealth. In 1932, Augustin Farabundo Marti (whose name was taken up by the FMLN) led an uprising of peasants and indigenous peoples.

The military responded by massacaring anyone with a hint of indigenous or who supported this uprising. To this day the indigenous population has not recovered and are few and far between.

In the 70s the issues escalated. Jose Napoleon Duarte, leader of the PDC ran for president and won but his victory was denied amid allegations of fraud etc. An ensuing coup was defeated by the military. The right wingers, as a response to increasing guerrilla activity, created "death squads". Thousands of Salvadoreans were tortured and killed. 1979, another coup by the military etc. overthrew the president and promised reforms, which of course never materialised. As a result, opposition parties banded together and created the Frente Democratico Revolucionario (FDR)and allied with the FMLN (Frente Farabundo Marti de Liberaction Nacional).

The FMLN believed that an armed stuggle was the only recourse. The 1979 revolution in Nigaragua also inspired a lot of people to believe in reforms. Monsignor Oscar A Romero was one of the more vocal. A remarkably outspoken priest of the people. However, Mar24 1980, he was assasinated whilst saying mass. This caused uproar and led to an armed insurection which escalated into a civil war. The rape and murder, of 4 nuns, which I remember from my school days actully caused the Carter administration in the US, to suspend aid to the military. But this was shortlived, once Reagan came in. Still on his anti communist rant especially after the Revolution in Nicaragua, he pumped millions in to the rightwing military anti guerrilla campaign. US500million in 1985 alone. This caused the prolonging of the conflict. If the FMLN got control of an area, the military responded by completely destroying villages etc. El Mazote being one of the worst (see a previous blog).

1982 saw a new president, Major Roberto D´Aubisson. More Death squads were created, targetting trade unionists and any reformers. The FMLN responded by trying to bomb anything that destroyed the economy e.g. bridges, power plants etc. Peace talks were entered into but fell apart due to one party or the other. 1989, the FMLN agreed to participate in elections if there was a postponement. Of course there wasnt. Then the FMLN waged a massive attack on the capital. The military killed 4000 leftist sympathisers in retaliation. Among these "enemies of the state" were 6 jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter, who were shot whilst sleeping.

1990, the UN mediated talks and a human rights accord was signed by both parties. However violent deaths actually increased. Finally 1992, Jan 16, a compromise was reached. The FMLN became an opposition party and the govt agreed to various reforms. Among these were a removal of the death squads etc. During the 12 year conflict, approx 75000 were killed and the US govt gave US6billion to the Salvadoreans govts war. Many immigrated, especially to the US.

End of history lesson

During the armed struggle by the FMLN, a Venezuelan journalist, created Radio Venceremos. This was used to relay information to the population about FMLN activities, policies, and exposing various actions by the govt. including massacres like El Mazote. The radio station equipment was hidden in the hills near Morazon and was protected by various FMLN members during its lifetime. There many women participants on the programs of this station and the programs included current affairs, womens issues, music etc.

This same Venezuelan created the Museo de Palabra and Imagen so that the massacres, and struggle would not be forgotten. The govt certainly did and do nothing to record this era. So the museums that record the history of the struggle and oppression are maintained by donations etc. The museum, was quite a lot more sophisticated than the ones I saw in Perquin in that the building that housed it was well kept and modern. It was like many small museums at home. However, they had many similar fotos of rebels and thier stories. They also had a piece on the struggle of 1932 and Indigenous people. As would seem appropriate, they had built a room specially for Radio Venceremos. There were even recordings of programs you could listen to, which made it quite special. The story of El Mazote and associated books etc. featured highly. The journalist was quite instrumental in capturing the eyewitness accounts and produced the book on the massacre along with Rufina. I am so glad I got to see the musuem.

I went back to the hostel got my bags, a taxi and before I knew it I was in the city of Santa Ana.

El Mazote: A monument to remember cruelty but with hope for the future

2008-09-17T01:23:00.009+01:00

18July
I got the pickup to the crossroads for the bus that was supposed to come at 9 to take me to El mazote. It didnt. This lady also waiting for it, started to chat to me. She had a box of shoes and some foodstuffs, that she was bringing up to the village. She was, I think in her late 40s maybe 50s. After about 40 minutes, the hopeful passengers gave up hope and started walking. So I joined them. There was a young girl with her baby and her young friend. They shared the task of carrying the baby. I offered to take some of the bags my travelling companion was carrying, some of which she carried like many locals on her head. She walked very straight and regally. She was elegant. She rejected my offer but then after about 30 minutes, the other young girl offered to take it on her head but couldnt. I took it off her as she already was carrying something. So we all helped each other and they chatted. A wealthy 4wd pickup with just 2 passengers, passed us but didnt offer a ride. Then this gentleman stopped and offered us passage. Later this rather old man in a cowboy hat and jeans got picked up too. He struggled to get into the back of the pickup. and kept trying to sit on the floor of the van even though there was no room and it was pushing me out of the way. The other occupants and my travelling companions were giggling at my predicament but it was a little at him and with me rather than really at me. It was so funny.

At El Mazote, I offered money to the kind driver but he refused and didnt take any from anyone else either. The locals guided me to the monument. They all knew why I had come. There is no other reason except to visit except for the monument. The village has very few houses, one or 2 small shops a church and until a few years ago had been abandoned after the terrible catastrophy that had hit the town. It is not like normal villages. There are not many children playing or people bustling around doing their various daily tasks. It is very quiet in fact. A little eerie, even though it is a beautiful sunny day.

On December 11 1981, a military unit trained in America, forces of the then president of El Salvador, funded by the US, entered the village at night and dragged the villages from their beds. It was cold but there was no mercy. For 3 days the villages, mostly children were herded and kept locked in the church and other places in the village. They were mostly seperated into groups of women, men and children. The mothers could hear their children crying of hunger, fear etc. The soldiers beat those they had captured and raped many of the women and girls. All in all they killed around 757 people maybe more as some may have escaped never to return or their bodies are in the jungle, lost to nature. I was told by guide that it was nearer 1000. Most of those killed were children. The massacre of the village left only 3 known survivors.

The monument is to remember this massacre. There is one part of the monument where the names of the families and their members is mentioned. This has the figures of a mother father and their 2 kids holding childrens hands. There were approximately 80 families.

The church burned down during the massacre, has been rebuilt. There is here,the jardin de reflexcion, built on the site of the old rectory of the church. On the wall of the rebuilt church is a beautiful mural and mosaic. Along the base of the wall is a list of all those who died with their ages. 146 of these names are under 12. The youngest was just 3 days. So many of them were just young babies, months old killed in their mothers arms.

On the opposite side of the church is a painted mural representing hope through time and education. It is bright and really gives a sense of a future with hope. One slogan struck the public then and still is spoken today: "NUNCA MAS" (never again). But how many times has this been said. This was 30 years ago. A sense of deja vu, was that not said after the holocost...

Barbarism doesnt even come close to describing this. I read a bit more and found out that the village had been told there was a possible attack on its way by the FMLN. But the villagers didnt believe it, as they were mostly protestants and normally it was catholics who were considered by the govt to be supporting FMLN. This village was not a known supporter of the guerrillas and felt safe.. Also some villagers had gone to the army and asked and were re'assured that nothing was going to happen. Some people even came from other villages, as they thought they would be safer in El Mazote.

One lady Rufina Amaya has spoken out about for 25 years about what happened to her and her family during the massacre. In March, she died of medical complications, but because an Austin College student received a grant, her story will live on.This is stuff I found thourgh the internet and in a musuem in San Salvador.
As Rufina Amaya tells her story, she recalls horrifying events where here family and friends were killed. According to this site http://www.kxii.com/home/headlines/12106361.html “She kept her faith 26 years after everything happened to her she watched her 4 children be killed so an incredible amount of faith," says Robert Thomas Quiring, a former Austin College student.
Rufina’s inspiration drove Robert Thomas Quiring to apply for the grant to pay for the documentary. He visited El Salvador and met Rufina, the lone survivor of the El Mozote massacre."

History shows even the US government refused to believe the massacre ever occurred, but Rufina spent years recalling the incident. The FMLN published a book with her input. They reported it soon after the massacre, on their rebel radio station Radio Venceramos. Famous US journalists visited El Mazote soon after, and provided the fotos of bodies and the remnants of the town. Rufina, even testified to legislatures in both the US and Central America. Her efforts led to an investigation and eventually and exhumation of more than 3,000 people.
“She’s a huge inspiration and that fact that such a humble person had that strength and that courage to speak out that truth and to struggle to make that truth known and to continue to tell that story, even thought it caused emotional stress, it was her mission and she carried it,” says Wenday Wallas, filmmaker on the project.
Now Austin College students make regular trips to El Salvador, visiting communities that suffered similar devastation.
"When I saw how devastating massacres are, I met with massacre survivors 10-20 years later, but it effects their spouses, it effects their children in every area of their lives and I want people to know what happened so we can stop it from happening again," says Sophia Kuiper, a senior at Austin College who has made trips to El Salvador.
Wallas says Rufina had a lot of input in the project, choosing what would stay and what was edited from the film. Even though she died before the premier Monday night, her story will live on.
"She felt like she was silenced her whole life but she kept continuing to tell her story,” Quiring says. “That's what this is about, to tell her story now that she has passed."
One of Rufina's daughters who also survived the massacre, Marta, is in medical school in El Salvador. The proceeds from the DVD sales will go to a scholarship fund.

And what tales will come out of Iraq. God knows.

I left El Mazote after an hour or so and decided to walk and take what came. The man who picked me up to bring me here, was miraculously on the road again. I had jsut thougth woudlnt it be nice if he was and there he was. He picked me up and I sat up front, as I was his only passenger. He sells mobile phones and makes biweekly trips if not more to all the villages here. He alays picks people up. I told him he had a big heart. He said if I was passing through his town to call in to his restaurant. I said I would if I could. He gave me his business card. Again he took no money. He jsut enjoyed the company. God what a sweet good natured man. There are still nice peopel in the world. I got a pick up back to Perquin from the crossroads. So far I ahve met so many lovely people here. No one is after anything. Ar rarity.
http://www.morris.umn.edu/academic/anthropology/chollett/anth2301/elsalvador.html
http://focal-point-aid.blogspot.com/2008/06/el-mazote.html
http://vagoscribe.wordpress.com/2008/03/01/closing-down-americaâ€™s-school-of-terrorism/
http://home.earthlink.net/~neoludd/MATANZA.htm

El Salvador! Perquin, a further walk along the Revolutionary path

2008-09-17T01:20:00.012+01:00

16Jul.
Perquin is a small village, Pretty but basic. On the way there however are rather large mansions that do not meld with the local houses. Apparently these belong to El Salvadoreans who left for the US and now buy homes here to return to when they visit their families or have returned to El Salvador for good. But these homes are to attest that they have made it, so are inappropriately ostentatious.
It is colder here. In the day a tshirt is ok but in the evenings more is required. At least a jumper and long trousers. It is a novelty for me. I am now feeling the cold like a native. My blood has thinned due to the heat. God I am going to suffer when I return to Europe.

The true perquin is simple, a little church, rustic houses, a few little shops, some selling souvenirs of the revolution etc. and the central square, with some shday trees and kids playing. I came to Perquin, to visit the Museo De La Revolucion Salvadorena and the village of El Mazote. Perquin was the headquarters of the FMLN and some of the museum guides fought in the war as guerillas. They will talk of their time in the war and apparently are surprisingly matter of fact in their descriptons of the war and gave very non-biased viewpoints on the details represented in their showrooms. However, they are busy today and many El Salvadoreans have come by the bus load to learn. I hope. And anyway I struggle to understand what they say so I better off by myself.

In the museum, there are many fotos as well as mortars, weapons, and many artifacts that help give a picture of what soldiers from either side may have gone through. Fotos were not allowed which was s shame.

Walking through the rooms lined with recovered guns is eye opening. So was the fact that most of the weapons used in the war were supplied either directly or indirectly by the U.S. The two most amazing parts are the large crater left untouched that was created by a 500 lb bomb, and the remains of a downed helicopter. The crater represents many that still scar the countryside.

The helicopter is from a story that will certainly stick in peòples minds for a while. The man behind the massacre at El Mazote was Lieutenant Coronel Domingo Monterossa Barrios. He was known as a brutal war machine, and many attempts on his life had failed throughout most of the war. His desire to collect war "trophies" was well known and the FMLN set a trap for him that ended with him carrying a sabatoged war prize on his helicopter that exploded seconds after takeoff. The story of his death and the memory of his brutal legacy live on in the minds of the those effected by this war and in the remnants of his helicopter at the museum here in Perquin.

The FMLN also had an amazing radio station called Radio Venceremos (We will win Radio). this was started by a Venezuelan journalist. This man has no since created the museum of images and words in San Salvador. There is a mock up of the station as it would have appeared in the 80s. It was moved around a lot to protect it. Large holes being built to hide the generator from view. The museum is a little outside of town and again is primitive and poor. It is simple and doesnt look like it gets much govt funding. No surprise there. Again I wonder what will happen, when all those that were involved in the problems are dead. Who will be the caretakers of the future?

Coming out of the musuem, I saw another war site, This was privately owned and was a camp for the FMLN. So I paid my dollar and looked at the fotos and artifacts. This was even more basic then the museum, with just some plastic over some wood protecting it.

I went to the internet cafe for a while and ended up talking to this gentleman beside me. He was El Salvadorean. He had moved back to El Salvador from New Orleans, in the US. I thought he had moved back just before the hurricane 3 yrs ago but no. He had his house and business completely destroyed in the hurricane. What do you say to that?

I then went for a bit of a trek to a local water fall which took a few hours. However, there were some local youths swimming there and a little too interested in attracting my attention, so I felt unable to go for a swim. An American I had met from my hostel had also come down. We had spoken for a few hours the previous night. It looked like it was going to rain, so I sauntered off. By the time I returned to the hostel I was drenched and cold. I had to put on my coat and a jumper to warm up and a hot coffee finished the procedure.
I had a few papusas, an El Salvadorean speciality. This is like a flat tortilla but with beans etc inside it. I choose to have only beans. It was tasty. Another early night.

Esteli, revolutionary speaking

2008-09-17T00:39:00.008+01:00

14July
Got the bus up to Esteli from Leon. Now I am nearer true Nicaragua. This has been a true FSLN town. Many of those around here fought hard. Many of the leaders or members of FSLN came from here. This is cowboy country. Cowboy hats and jeans mix liberally with baseball hats and mini skirts. Feels like I have come to a frontier town and in a way I have. Both from the revolution point of view but also its proximity to Honduras.

There are lots of FSLN flags been waved from cars. I walked for hours around town to get a feel for the place. Snapping lots of fotos of colorful murals. This was knackering but I found a lovely cafe, Licuados ananda, inspìred by a guru no less...

Something is happening tonight. I can feel a buzz in the air, and they are erecting a huge stage, sound system included. However, I stay in after dinner.

15July
Today I had to wait until the museum I came to see opened. Galeria de Heroes y Martires. This is a galery of fotos and memories of the young men and women, who lost their lives in the revolution. Sometimes there is no foto just a shirt and maybe cufflinks or a pair of boots. These personal effects contained in a few bare cabinets. But the mothers wanted their children to be remembered in what ever way was possible. And more inportantly to remember why and what they died for. Under some fotos were captions explaining when and where they died. There are also explanations of the history of the different leaders etc. since the late 19 century. The urge to free themselves from tyranny has had a long history. I must have whiled away 2 hours in the place. These people need to be remembered as individuals. Why should I read one not another, so I try to read all. It is sad to see such wasted youth. Some of the victims joined the fight at 14.

Sometimes a family lost more than one of their children.

There was one really interesting story. An Article and story appeared about the reoluition and a foto captured the young guy throwing a petrol bomb. This foto became iconic. So the writer decided to follow up on this man 25 years later. He was in his early 20s then and rose to be a commander in the FSLN and was well respected for his bravery and military expertise. As a thankyou he was offered a scholarship outside of Nicaragua. But he could not leave. I guess in case he was needed again. He is now, a car mechanic, poor with 8 children. He hankers back to his glory days, when he was really somebody and things were different. It was a sad yet memorable story behind the news foto. See attched here.

Another iconic foto was the breastfeeding mother. A baby in one arm and a rifle in the other. A painted version of that was a centrepiece in the museum.

The mothers maintain the gallery and are there to talk should you feel the urge. However, my Spanish is not up to it. I so want to converse but I can´t. Some of the mothers who started this have now died or are too old to continue maintaining this. The museum. is very basic, simple, primitive and above all very poor. But amazing! Some of the fotos are the only copies. They are not even all protected by glass so are fading and disintegrating. My question is what happens when the last of mothers die. Who will be there then. Who will remember? Will it just close and be just a minor anal in history? If even that. It was a sobering and educational morning.

It was after lunch before I left for my next destination. Somoto. A rather cute little village. I walked from the bus station outside of town to the hotel recomended in 10 minutes. It was that small. I got the bus to Espino, the last stop before Honduras. I gopt adopted by this El Salvadorean, who helped me along the way and guided me on to the right bus or off at the right time. Through him I found a bus short cut and waited with all the locals. I often find myself the only tourist. My travelling companion is very clean cut. Quite smart with a cleanly pressed shirt. Professional looking. He and I get separated for the final leg. I see him chatting to a fellow passenger. He takes out a bible. I figure he is a bible salesman at this stage. He then moves to another passenger. Then he stands up in front of the bus and starts preaching. At first all are interested. Something novel. And he continues preaching... Despite the embarking and disembarking of passengers and the influx of people yelling and selling their wares along the bus aisle. He still preaches. Even the nun in the seat opposite me falls asleep. He carries on. He doesnt read his audience. He is enraptured in his own sermon.

After several hours, I am in a little town of Perquin in El Salvador. I am up in the mountains, high in the forest in the centre of what was the FMLN territory, the guerrilla group/freedom fighters of El Salvador.

Smokin at the craters edge... 2 volcanos in 3 days.

2008-08-02T02:13:00.009+01:00

12Jul
Well I arrived at Quetzaltrekers tour office, at 8am. I then was informed, that we had to carry all our gear along with 6 litres of water, food for 2 days, a piece of a tent all the way up the volcano. Oh dear, that I had not contemplated, neither did some of the others. I had to borrow a rucksack as my little one was too small. I knew I would not drink 6 ltrs but I was (strongly) encouraged to carry them.
We got a local bus to the park. At the entrance, we saw some mud pools spluttering and steaming away. It took us 5 hrs walking, approx. to get up. It was hot, and the bags were bleeding heavy. It was TOUGH!

Daniel (US), was finding it as difficult as I. Both of us thougth we would not make it. We were dripping. However, the views were great, and when we saw our campsite, a little oasis of green at the base of the volcanic crater, it was so worth it. We were literally, 100 feet from a smoking, live volcano. We put our tents up immediately, as it began to rain.

During the trek, when I was able to talk that is... or during the breaks, I learned a bit about my travelling companions.
We were a very international crew. Meike (Dutch), the lead guide, a volunteer of 4 months with quetzaltrekers. All the guides are volunteers and only get their food during the hike and nothing else in compensation. Kevin "McGiver" (Austrian), a trainee guide on his first hike. He had a mohican but had been 4 years in the Army. He read survival books and had isolated himself in the middle of the forest in upper Sweden, with nothing except a knife and a few other things for 6 months. At the age of 18. He and his girl friend were volunteering for 2 months and had been a year and a half camping around Latin America and were still going, surviving on $10 between them per day. He was very handy with a machete, and hacked the path clean for us.

Denitza (Bulgarian), now studying in the US, on an internship for a few months in Leon, for her masters in Public policy, if I recall. Very very intelligent and spoke god knows how many languages. Lea (German), delightful, a student teacher. Daniel (US), previously in computers but wanted to contribute to society, so became a teacher. For his first summer hols, surfing around Nicaragua, who looked like a Korean Elvis Presley, dimples an all. Seriously!! He underestimated himself a lot but was more capable than he thougth. Really cool to converse with. We were all proud we got up and back down again. We all had a real sense of achievement.

The idea of the hike, was to have sunset on the craters edge and perhaps even see molten lava in the dark. but as it was raining and the smoke from the volcano was too dense, that idea went up in smoke. er so to speak...
Kevin built a fire and we toasted marshmallows and chatted throughout the evening. We didn´t get a great deal of sleep, as the resident cows and horses, kept passing the tents and making lots of loud munching sounds etc.

Next morning, Meike woke but didnt wake the rest of us, as there was too much cloud and smoke, so no sunrise either. The weather was not working for us. But we had breakfast and got rid of any excess water. The weight of our bags dropped by half if not more. Descending while not a breeze, was certainly heaps easier. At the end of our descent, the mudpools were even more active after the nights rain. Apparently the volcano (San Christobal) near Telica, the volcano we were on, is supposed to erupt on Thursday. But I wont be around bummer...

The 4 of us hikers met for dinner that evening, nursing our weary, aching limbs. A really cool bunch of people.

Next morning, being the gluton for punishment, that I am, I paid to go up the Cerro Negro. Named, so because of the black volcanic sand. Another active volcano with steam vents everywhere to attest to this. However, this hike was only 45 minutes. Piece of cake. The walk up had some great views and very photogenic moments. This volcano erupts approx every 7 years. It is well overdue by 4 years.

Like, the 30 others signed up, I carried my board, goggles and orange overall. Yup, No having to walk down this volcano. I was coming down the volcano on my rear, on a board, hopefully fast without ripping myself to shreds. The orange overall and goggles protecting me from grazing myself on the harsh sand and stones.

Roisin, the Irish girl I had met a few days ago, keeping me company both up and partnering me on the way down. Roisin managed to get down without falling off. I fell off twice. I wish I had not let myself listen to our guide. She gave different instuctions to the girls, whom she made go in pairs first. She told us how to stop and go slow. The boys she told how to go fast. A few of us were a bit peeved, at the way she had done this, as she made us more cautious than was necessary. So we had less fun. But it was still worth it for the views, and the experience. Roisin and I were exhausted, so ended up playing with this gorgeous kitten in the hostel and eating there too. I said goodbyes as it was my last day.

Leon... and hearts of lions...

2008-07-11T22:18:00.021+01:00

07July Got a taxi to the bus station and met this Managuan who had lived in Ireland. Small world. He was recruiting for the bus to Leon.
Arrived in Leon about 10.30. Got a taxi to a Nicaraguan hostel called El Albergue. Nice. But there was no water til 9 or 10pm. So no shower... It is something that I have become used to.
Wandered around town. What a difference. Poverty is much more evident here. Leon is much less gringofied but the better for it. More real and I really like it. Whereas Granada and San Juan have lots of Gringos buying property and businesses, especially hostels and restaurants, Here the locals are doing it for themselves and have the wherewithall to do so. There are many horse and carts here too. But not the sort that carry passengers/tourists like in Granada, These earn their living carrying allsorts. You can see the difference between the cathedral opposite compared to that in Granada.

Leon is the intellectual capital. Here many of the FSLN leaders were born. There is much FSLN/Revolution graffiti to attest to this.
I went to the Galeria de Heroes y Martires, a museum created and run by the mothers of many of those that died for the revolution. It has many fotos of those killed whilst protesting as students or in various attacks by or on Samozas Guardia Nacional. Sometimes there are a pair of shoes or a piece of clothing or a little story about the person. Leon was a spearheader in the revolution, infact most of the town came out and fought on behalf of the Sandanistas.

A brief history a la Sandra:

In the 30s Sandino, a rebel fought against the Samoza senior. He. was invited to dinner to discuss peace talks but was killed by the Guardia nacional, funded by the US. In fact in 54, Nicaragua was used as a launch pad by the CIA to overthrow the guatemalan leader and the 1961 invastion of Cuba. During the 50s the FSLN was created by Carlos Fonseca etc. Otherwise known as Sandinistas. This gained strenght especially in 1972 due to the earthquake. In 79, the FSLN won the revolution. The FSLN had much support from international goverments including many Latin Americans.
However, before they had time to settle in and create a democracy, the US were funding the Contras, which were made up of Samozas Guardia Nacional and business interests who were afraid the FSLN were too left etc. Under Reagan, with his left over ideas from McCarthyism, was on a mission to destroy communisim and anyone seen as slightly left was suspect. Nicaragua was a key target. Fighting against the contras crippled the Nicaraguan economy, especially with embargos inposed against Nicaragua because democracy was not introduced fast enough etc.. Meanwhile the US were throwing billions of dollars to the El Salvadorean Dictator who made Saddam Hussein look like a kindly relative... in order to stop the guerillas there from winning. Even today, elections are still being meddled with by US funding. This is a very brief synopsis but it gives a gist of the situation. The US foreign policy disgusts me to the core.
To wander around here and see what could have been but was not really ever allowed. There were so many internationlistas who came to help in the 80s because they believed in the FSLN and their social polices of reform, including many Americans. but it had limited impact because of the US govt.

Even today, water cuts happen from 7am to 7pm in Granada. Electricity is stopped sometimes for a whole day. This is normal here. The price of oil is going up and the present president has requested OPEC, to lower the price of oil for the poorest countries. Think that is going to happen?????? People live on $40 a week. And they can be the lucky ones. Some dont have anything. However, others are driving around in huge 4x4s. The inequalities are not being reduced if anything they are increasing.

09 Jul. I had to move hostels. I am now in Casona Colonial. It is not cheap but it was around the corner and it is only for 1 night. I have my own room and bathrooom. I just need the luxury to have a shower for one night, just to get clean and sleep. I have a 4 poster bed that I have to climb up onto. It is such a cool place.

Wandered around town and bumped into Jeremiah, whom I had sailed with from Colombia to Panama. He was still plying his jewellry. I then bumped into Hagay, from Isreal that I had accidently hit with my surfboard in San Juan.

As the heat was saporific, I went into the museum of Art. The museum is quite spacious. But there were few visiting. Before I entered a room, the guards would rush to turn on the lights and fans. I told them not to bother. Electricity and water conservation is a necesity not an ecological ideology here.

A Nicaraguan artist Armando Morales has a section here. His paintings are beautiful haunting images and really capture your eye. I then went to the home of Ruben Dario. Nicaraguas most famous poet and perhaps one of Latin Americas. Nicaragua loves her poets. And poets have often been key in the revolution and intellectual life of the country. It was the poet/journalist Rigoberto Lopez Perez who killed Samoza senior whilst dressed as a waiter in 1956. I went to see his house too.
I read an autobiography called "The Country under my skin". It was written by Giaconda Belli, a poet and a woman that was heavily involved throughout the 70s and 80s in the upper eschelons of the FSLN leadership. A phenomenal person. The autobiography was very informative, especially as it was written from her perspective as a woman, lover, mother and guerilla.
10Jul. Had to leave the hostel for another. I thougth I would be on a volcano tour but no. I am now in Bigfoot a really gringo Aussie owned hostel. but hey its fun. I really tried to stay at local run hostels but kept getting kicked out. First person I run into is Thomas from San Juan. It was fab to see him. He had got a few injuries from the volcano boarding he had just returned from but nothing serious and it wasnt his face ha ha...

I wandered some more around town to photgraph some graffitti. I stopped off at the Benjamin Linder Cafe. Non profit making enterprise. Ben Linder was an American who contibuted a lot to Nicaragua. He was killed by the Contras in 87 whilst building a hydroelectric dam. The US govt, when asked why they were still contributing money to forces that killed Americans, answered U.S. citizens working in Nicaragua had "put themselves in harm's way" saying that Linder should have known better than to be in a combat zone. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ben_Linder
I returned to Bigfoot, only to meet the 6 Irish girls from Dublin, along with Martina (London) and Kim (US), I had met in the Bearded Monkey. Spent the evening with them, as it was Ruths 21st birthdays. The girls had bought Ruth, these hideous knckers for her and her boyfriend. So we had to take fotos. Thomas even tried on the underpants, much to the girls delight. Some of the girls asked me if Thomas knew how hot he was. I said I thought he was aware but not as much as he could be. He really is a sweetie behind all the letchery.
11Jul.
Went from Breakfast in Via Via, and bumped into Hagay again. Blasted the poor boy with my politics. Oh dear was on my soapbox. Booked on to the overnight trip to Telica, another active volcano.

Managua and what feels like ground zero.

2008-07-11T00:59:00.010+01:00

6th July

It was bizarre in the Bearded Monkey. There were so many girls, many travelling by themselves. Since I have arrived in Nicaragua, I have met a lot of single female travellers but not in many other places. Not sure why Nicaragua has more than other places but no complaints here.

I wandered around Granada for one last time, went to the Museum, Casa De los Leones. Some amazing fotos there of Nicaraguans. An artist brought me to his workshop within the museum. His work and that of his colleagues was fabulous and so cheap, but I had already bought some paintings in Masaya.

Naomi and I took the bus to Managua and got a taxi to the Tica office where Naomi had a hotel booked. I left my stuff in Naomis room. Outside, the first guy we met told us not to walk down to the left and guided me to this other hotel. It was ok but I took the one across the road. The owner there also told us where not to walk. So we took a taxi to the central area of Managua after getting some lunch. It was deserted. This area had been devastated during the 1972 Earthquake. Much foreign aid came in but never made it to the people that needed it. Tents etc were kept by the reigning dictators (Samoza) family and cohorts. Other items were sold off instead of benefitting the needy. In fact the earthquake was a key factor in bringing a lot of the well to do into the revoloution and was the beginning of the end of Samoza's regime...

We walked around what would have been the heart of colonial Managua. Because of the earthquake, it is now deserted except for the many shanty towns around the central park. Many of the inhabitants are in their elder years and have probably been there since 1972, residing in plastic covered wooden frames with little else. It is appaling what these poor souls have to live in and with. The cathedral (opposite) still stands but in a state of disrepair. Apparently any visiting heads of state are brought here in the hope they might write a cheque for its repair. Needless to say...

It is a sad place.

It is also not the safest. However, there are some monuments to the revolution and the museum (pictured here) is in everyday use, and more return to the cities heart. But we picked the one day the museum () was closed. We felt very uncomfortable walking around, as the only gringas in the place.

So we got a taxi on to the Huellas de Acahualinca. Again the taxi driver told us not to move from the musuem but to wait until a taxi came by. It was relatively poor but most were just children playing. But there was also a sence of danger. We asked him to return in 20 minutes.

Huellas de Acahualinca is a tiny museum, housing ancient footprints (see opposite) of about 10 men, women and children. They are 6000 to 7000 years old and were buried some 4m deep under volcanic material. They were discovered back in 1874 by some workers. They pace in one direction as if in immigration...
Naomi and I were optimistic in asking for 20 minutes but lucky for us our taxi came early. We decided on a shopping mall, as we had exhausted the cultural activities. We went to see Super Agent 86 in Spanish and didnt understand a word but who cares, we were able to while away a few hours.

When we got back to Naomis hotel, the taxi was really reticent on letting us out. Everything was closed up and there was a bunch of guys loitering around. However one of them pointed out where the door was and we got into the hotel. I was literally 2 minutes walk from my hotel but I had all my stuff and was nervous enough to ask one of the bus drivers, to walk me to my door. A first for me. I said good bye to Naomi, as she was heading back to her teaching job in Honduras.

Granada, Monkeys of a different sort

2008-07-11T00:36:00.012+01:00

2nd July
Jesse and I saw this amazing photographic exhibition in the central park based on globalisation. Some of the best fotos I have seen for a long time. It was superb and sad and thougth provoking. The catherdral (opposite) in Granada and Granada in general is clean and well kept. A lot of restoration has taken place. Jesse took me to this Cigar factory. The owner there is famous throughout the world as a purveryor of fine cigars. Apparently the quality of cigars in Nicaragua is as good as Cuba due to the volcanic soils but Cuba has the reputation due to scarcity of the cigars in the US due to the US embargo against Cuban products. There was a huge photo of Arnold Swarzenegger and the owner on the wall.

We went off to Masaya for a few hours, to see the markets there. Masaya is a town, famous for its artisans. It has probably 2 of the biggest markets in Latin America. The new market, is more local and rough and ready but still has many handicrafts like hammocks and rocking chairs. Jesse and I so wanted to buy some rocking chairs like we had at Elizabeths. I bought 2 paintings that were a bit surrealist.
We then went off to the old market which has now been done up. The market is enclosed by these old walls with turrets and arches and is very gothic outside. Inside it is clean and touristy and the prices reflect this. However, the quality of items is high and there are some lovely paintings, wooden carvings and of course the ubiquitous hammocks. If I was on holiday here and owned my own home...................

3rd July.
The bearded monkey is a great hostel. It has an inner courtyard with trees which gives shade and cool air. It has great food and a lot of poeple stay here. It dominates the social scene in Granada.
They have another hostel on the banks of Lake Apuyo. I went for a day trip there. It has got to be one of the most peaceful places I have been at. The waters of this giant lake created in the crater of an extinct volcano are tranquil and pristine. The lake has many houses and hostels but they are hidden behind the many trees lining the lake. I took a kayak out and explored the shoreline. The rest of the time I sunbathed and swam and chatted to 2 girls Naomi (Aussie) and Shay (Cristal Palace, UK). There is something regal about her, she looks like she stepped out of an Egyptian hieroglyphic. She is such an African queen. It was such a relaxing, peaeful day.

On my return to the bearded monkey, I heard my name being shouted across the garden… It was Sarah and Christen back from Ometepe. I was sooo happy to see them. Bang goes peace and quiet. But who cares…
We met up with a few more guys from the US, Mike, Nicholas. We had mexican on the main tourist strip then some Flor de Cana in this gazebo in the central park, then off to the Café Nuit for salsa.

Next day, I went with Niamh and Monica to a café and we had a wander around town and the stalls.
Later, I stayed around the gazebo to watch a FSLN Parade and I took some fotos. IT was a shame it rained as it dampened some of the enthuasism. At one point, this teenager came along holding a live chicken by the legs, its neck had a chunk cut out of and the boy was wiping the chicken and its blood off those who would accept. None I think. Pretty Barbaric...

The US gang from last night went out to celebrate 4th of July. We ended up in the El club for dinner, with an Aussie girl and another American. There was a lot of laughter and pee taking. And of course it was off to the Gazebo again, where we saw a local fiesta and then it was Cafe Nuit. Creatures of habit…
The next day was a wipe out. I just stayed in the hostel and read. I hung out with Martina, Niamh and Jonny all from London and Naomi. We were all knackered as had all been in Cafe Nuit. There was lots of conversations.
It was so nice to not do anything or go anywhere.

San Juan, Fiesta in so many ways. And Adieu

2008-07-11T00:05:00.006+01:00

Fiesta, Tuesday 24 June
It is the feast of San Juan. Strangely coinciding with Summer solstice and the fiesta here seemed more in tune with a pagan festival than the religious feast of a catholic saint.
The whole month of june has been a lead up to this week. The rodeos were part of it and this week was the culmination.
I went to Maderas beach to do a bit of surfing. Hmm not so good I missed all the shenanigans of the day. That evening I went to the central park by myself, as the boys were coming later. I missed the pig, duck and pole games.
The pig game involved a bunch of grown men, chasing and throwing themselves on a poor greased little piglet. The one who got to catch the pig and retain it until they got to some point, won.
The duck game involved this poor unfortunate live duck tied to a pole. The guys had to grab the duck, and run with it. Again the retainer won. The duck, of course died.
The greasy pole didn´t involve animals thank god. Just whoever got to the top of this greasy pole, won $100.
This was all told to me by Ryan,(US) and his friend Silvio (Switzerland), who came up to me. Ryan was still avoiding this girl, he had a one night stand with, a month ago. She wanted him to call her so they could talk. Oops.

Then Sarah came, chatted and dissapeared again with her volleyball team. A German girl, Katharina, I had met in the bar with Garreth, started chatting and we bemoaned the lack of single female travellers.

Edward the Irish guy from limerick joined me, with a few of his friends. Had a really good laugh with them. They were very witty and sarcastic. He was a lot more friendly than when I met him the first time. He is off to Ireland tomorrow. He said he was mising San Juan already. He has been living here 2 years. I didnt realise I had got to know so many people here. I was only alone for about 3 minutes over several hours. Mad.

Thomas and Aidan then came along and as Edward had not been very friendly to Aidan in the bar the other night, Aidan chose not to be friendly with Edward. A shame but… So I joined the boys, as I have spent most time with them. We watched the celebrations. There was a big stand with the statue of San Juan surrounded by beautiful arrangements of fruit. This was about 100 metres from the church. One group of locals, mostly male, carried this big statue above their heads. Another group, mostly female, carried a smaller statue. The 2 groups chased each other making it looked more like a mating ritual rather than anythign else. Later 3 bands took it in turns to play at different points around the central park. It was mad but brilliant. At the end it was just myself and Aidan, along with hundreds of locals. Everyone else had dissapeared. The dancing was frenetic. It was lovely to see grandsons dancing with grandmothers and aunts with nieces etc.

Wednesday.
Pelican eyes tonight. oh dear. Going to be late one. I had a Macua. This is a coctail of Flor de Cana, guava and orange juice. Nicaragua is making it their national drink. So now I have ticked another off my list of coctails from around the world.
Later at the iguana, we met Luis, the salsa dancer extradinaire. He has a degree in dancing and is a total charmer. Fun guy. Aidan remembered it was his birthday tomorrow as he hadnt realised the date. So we gave him a few drinks after midnight. Then went on to the late night bar L´mche, til 3am.

Friday night, which of course means Pelican eyes night. Aoiffe has nicknamed us Team Irish. Today Aidan found out that the guy we hang out with was the key witness in the murder trial. In fact was the person who pinned the murder on Eric Volz. He apparently could have been an accessory to the murder, as he had scratch marks on him allegedly. He seems a nice chap but doesnt hang out with that many locals here, except gringos but then again he is allowed hang out at our hostel and does errands for people and Elizabeth the owner is running for mayoress. so he appears to be accepted here. It is a very strange situation. Aidan also realised this morning that we will be learning salso with Luis, in the very house the girl was murdered. It turned my stomach a bit. Aidan wasnt too happy either. Bizarre.

In the Mercado, whilst breakfasting with Aoiffe, we saw the old lady from the restuarant next to ours, chase this guy and whack him over his back etc. with a big plank of wood. She was furious, shouting and really going for him. We couldn´t figure out what he did but she chased him out onto the street, with the locals gawping on. This guy goes around town topless with one flipflop. His trousers are too big and he is always holding the trousers about 4 inches from his waist. He seems to keep looking down to make sure nothign is missing... He seems to have obsessive compulsive disorder and he often passes by our place, turns around, then goes back and forth a few times. Jesse told me, her teacher says that the odd time he hits gringas.

I was lounging around in the Gato Negro, chatting to Katharina and Garreth, when the lady with the monkey came. The monkey was climbing all over these swinging chairs like he was back in the jungle. It was sooooo sweet. She fed it from her plate of fruit. He had his nappy on too. She seemed a nice lady and said she only takes care of the monkey but it lives in the Pelican Eyes hotel. So not completely cuckoo...

Our group has grown phenomenally. Two girls from S. California, Sarah and Christen have joined Team Elizabeth. They are total party girls. Sarah comes out with the most irreverant things and Christen says less but when she does it usually is a quote to remember. They are hilarious and fit nicely into the gang. Two English guys big into surfing, Leon and Jack rock with us on the rocking chairs as does Jesse from Montana, whom moved in a few days ago. She is such a doll and fits in like a bug in a rug.

My last Saturday night, we all went to the Iguana and then the sunset after. Sarah and Christen met up with 12 Norweigens and the rest of us just entered the mayhem of the Iguana. It was the maddest night there since I arrived. People were dancing on tables and were even trying to dance on the bar, until the bar staff turned the music off to calm things down.

At the sunset, it was busy and I met with Sylvio and Maxime from our hostel. I danced with them and the others. Maxime and I were the last of the gang to leave. We got to Elizabeths and then I heard Aidans voice. So we waited for them to catch up. I couldnt believe my eyes. Aidan was just in his boxers, with his hat on and his boots in his hands. The Dutch girl he was with Marlous was just in her tshirt and flipflops. They had decided to go for a midnight swim in the sea. Whilst they were swimming, someone came along and stole their clothes. Oh how we laughed. Poor old Aidan, tho lost his favourite tshirt and his money belt which was not so funny. Amazingly though he didnt loose his hat. Maxime got a foto of the 3 of us. So I have to chase that.

Sunday
A gang of us went to the last rodeo. It was uneventful, although a few got trampled but got up to walk away. Luckily!
Sarah and Christen, moved into the appartment in Elizabeths. As they had a kitchen, we cooked fajitas. As well as the 2 girls, Aidan, Thomas, Aoiffe, Sinead, Brandon and Esther came along too. We had a great evening and the food wasnt too bad either.

Brandon, a Canadian, is here to set up a diving shop in Pelican Eyes. He is such a sweety. Aidan got to know him one evening. Poor old Brandon hobbled along to our impromptu dinner party, on his new crutches. He had a rather bad motorbike accident a few days ago. The skin was shreded on his knee, ankle and elbow. He could barely walk and is in a lot of pain. Esther, another canadian that I had met a few weeks ago, has been of such an angel to him, even though they have only know each other a few weeks. She is quite a cool girl. Brandon had been given a zimmerframe. Not good for this oh so cool dude. Nor helpful. Esther being the angel she is, went on the hunt for crutches. She tried the clinic, they recommended the pharmacy. The pharmacy was out but recommended the priest. So the priest told her he would ask at mass the next day. However, she found out about this lady who has stuff for rent and lo and behold, she had a pair of crutches. This is how it works in Nicaragua. Amazing!!!!

Sunday, we all went to the Republik bar. There I met the bar girl there called Angel, whom I had spoken to before. This local lady started talking to me and I had no clue how she knew me. However, she told me she owns L´mche, in fact that is her name . She recognised me from when we were in her bar a few weeks ago when I complained how expensive the chips were and got stuck watching this bizarre horror movie on the tv. Oh dear. I was laughing tho… I had a great chat with her. A cool lady and I wish I could go back to her bar, I really liked it…
It was Aidans last night, so we had to celebrate. It is sad to see him go. He is such a ringleader and an amazing social being. I will miss his quick wit and our long conversations.

For the first time, I have a few pople to surf with. So I have to stay a bit longer...
Sarah and Sinead came with me one day. That was the best day. I got to stand up again a few times. The waves were out just far enough to get a good run. However the other days I tried, it was too difficult, as the tide was in and I didnt want to get trundled on the stones. The same was the case, when we went to Romanzo beach but it was a lovely beach and day.

It is the first of July. Canada day. So we all went to help Esther and Brandon celebrate. Esther, the sweetie gave us all Canadian flag pins. Then it was off to the Iguana. Oh dear another late one.

02 July. Today I have been in San Juan del Sur for 1 month. I only came of r 3 days.I only came for 3 days. Oh my god. What a month. I have loved every minute of it and it will I think go down as the most memorable of my trip. I have met some fabulous people both local and gringos. San Juan Rocks.

Jesse and I got up early, packed and said our goodbyes to who ever was still around. It was soooooooooooo hard to leave. Elizabeth and Orlando both gave me a hug. I will so miss them. They are such a lovely couple. I will definitly come back I just have to. I have had such a lovely time here.
We got the 9am bus to Rivas and were on board the 10.30am to Grenada before we knew it. We got a private room in the Bearded Monkey. We needed some peace and quiet, as were knackered. Jesse left the next day. I am now alone. It feels good to be on the road again though. I miss moving around. I wandered around Granada, then ate at the bearded monkey that night. I was a bit wary of going out by myself after Aoiffe had been stabbed here. Walking around here you would never believe it could have happened but it did.

A rodeo... but not a stetson in sight.

2008-06-17T03:07:00.027+01:00

Saturday 14 June
It is the festival of San Juan, the patron saint in this town. There are mini fiestas, each weekend. For the whole month of june, San Juan will host a rodeo. The rodeo, is where a person, usually a male, tries to ride a rather irate bull for, as long as they can. There is some rope tied around the lower stomach area to cause discomfort to the bull, so it bucks when it is released from the pen, with the rider on top. Well that is how it appeared to me.

The Rodeo ring was 15 min out side of town, so I walked. Inside this open field was a large ring, surrounded by10 foot wooden fences topped by mesh. Two sections had seats. To one side, was some other areas, fenced off. This was where the bulls were kept and where the rider mounted the bull. The crowd awaited anxiously for the first bull. It didn’t disappoint. But it did throw its rider off within a few seconds of release from the pen.

However, then the fun begins. Young lads in their teens, early 20s and the odd older person sit inside the bull ring and display their er em testosterone… by taunting the bull. The fences allow the young lads to escape the horns of the bull, if it heads in their direction, a little too vigorously. About 30 boys, are all trussed up in their cool gear showing, displaying their "manliness"... Some of the bulls that came out actually laid or knelt downwhen they had thrown their rider. I felt sorry for the bulls. They appeared to be in pain, terrified or exhausted and preferred to get the hell out of the ring, back to the corral with the other bulls as quickly as possible...

Some bulls had more stamina and ran around the ring. This was the exciting part as the boys would make a mad dash and there was a massive scramble up the fences to escape a nip of the horns. At one stage, this 40something chap, totally drunk was getting a little too daring.

There is always one…

Ah yes the false confidence of alcohol. I saw that some of the boys were trying to keep him away from harm but he wasn’t having any of it. You could just see it was an accident waiting to happen. Later, there he was in front of this bull getting ready to charge. Of course he wasn’t quick enough to avoid it and ended up under the bulls legs. He was on the ground for about 30 seconds and it was difficult to see if he had been hurt. However, he got up and didn't appeared to have suffered enough, as he was back making an idiot of himself 10 minutes later. It wasn’t quite the rodeo you see in the movies. The quality of the bulls alone didn’t allow that, let alone the riders. But it was more simple and the better for it. And there wasn’t a cowboy hat in sight, Well except one. Dallas it wasn’t. Although the guys herding the bulls back into the pen showed some skill in lassoing the bulls.

A few gringos then added to the numbers. Joined by a few more when they saw some others there. They had this young little bull, and a 12 year old came out riding it. Then an older woman took her chances on one of the young smaller bulls too. Fair dues…

Sunday 15thJun
I met Aidan (Mr. Donegal), who now resides in the room next door to me. The other Irish chap is Thomas from Dublin. In the Mercado we ran into an Irish girl, Aoiffe from Co. Clare. There seems to be quite a few Irish here. I am surprised. Aidan has a huge bandage on his forehead, as he split it open diving into the swimming pool. We have a chat now and then and today met in the Mercado (market) at breakfast and spent about 3 hours chatting.

Aidan, told me about a local girl that had been murdered at noon in her boutique Nov 2006. She had been going out with this American chap called Eric Volz, living in San Juan. He got charged with her murder because a local that had been acting suspiciously around the boutique said he saw him. However, apparently 10 people saw him in a meeting in Managua, 2 hours drive away, at the time of the murder. He was nearly lynched by the locals and had to break his way out of this house he had locked himself into. He was convicted even though there was no real evidence allegedly. It created a bit of a nasty sentiment here in San Juan against gringos (foreigners). He feels that he was convicted due to an anti US feeling. The trial seemed to be set against him and only 3 of the 10 witnesses were presented in court. On appeal, he was released and now in hiding in the US. Another retrial is imminent. So the story is still not over. I read about on the internet. It is a sad case, as there is still someone out there who should be convicted, if this guy didnt do it.. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eric_Volz

That afternoon, I was on the beach, and this young chap came up, he appeared to be rather tipsy. He is studying at the local university. Told me I had beautiful eyes and was like a mermaid. And wanted to go for walk on the street with me. I told him I was old enough to be his mother, but the message wasn’t getting through. What can I say. I still got it, what I have, has yet to be decided though.

Later this Canadian joined us and then got distracted by this child trying to play a game. The Canadian (Rob) asked me to help teach hopscotch, so thought that was a good escape option. So I spent an hour playing hopscotch on the beach with a 10 year old and a tipsy 35 year old. What can I say.

The boy had trousers on that were a mans, but had been cut and tied with some string so they stayed up. His t-shirt was dirty with a few holes in it. He was vague as to where he was living but turns out he was here from a nearby village and staying in San Juan for the weekend with his brother and was probably sleeping on the beach. We took him for something to eat. But when we brought him for pizza to a gringo restaurant, he seemed quite intimidated. He barely ate the pizza but we got it put in a bag and he took it away with him. We chatted to this Nicaraguan, called Hermann, who when he heard I was Irish told me to go to Nica Geeks to meet Edward an Irish chap that was very nice.

I went to this bar with Rob for a few drinks and met some of the local expat crowd. Many were Canadians too. It was a nice evening and the people were friendly. I still haven’t done any surfing. The waves were to be 12 feet tomorrow, so I was advised not to go out.

I was in my usual seat at the Mercado, when Aidan and Thomas came in and sat beside me. They told me they were heading off to Maderas and had a lift organized and did I want to. There were the 3 of us, 2 Belgians and 2 French (Vanessa and Antoine). Orlando the owner of Hospadaje Elizabeth was driving. Well we sped to the beach, I was in the back with the French. It was bumpy ride and I was glad that my rear end is so padded... For a man that has only one arm, he drives well but like a maniac. We still don’t know how he lost it but don’t want to ask.

I rented a surfboard but didn’t manage to get up on it as the waves were pretty ferocious and I kept getting cramps. At lunch time, Vanessa & I went over to join the boys on Majagual beach. It was this magnificent empty beach with just a few local low key properties backing on to it. Apparent the owner has been offered 2 million to sell but won’t.

While walking along the beach to lunch with the boys, I met Esther. I had met her earlier in Café Negro (one of the best bookshops I have ever seen, especially travelling) and she had recommended a book on Nicaragua. She chatted about her work with Doctors Without borders and about her work last year in the mountains 2 hours from Cartagena, in Colombia. I said I had not been aware it was so bad to warrant they being there. She corrected my education. Apparently as it is near the coast there is a lot of drug running, so FARC, the military etc. are battling it out for territory. This means of course the locals are getting caught in the crossfire. It is pretty bad. She figured that even many Colombians don’t know or want to know as they are fed up with it. She was really lovely girl and I would liked to have had more time with her.

After lunch with the boys, I went back to surfing, succeeding in redeeming myself and catching a few waves. However, I didn’t get to stand. The cramps restarted. I think I didn’t drink enough liquid and I didn’t stretch. Bummer.

Orlando collected us. He seemed to be dead chuffed to have so many Irish. Aidan was organizing a fishing trip for the next day and we all agreed to go. The electricity was still off and then we realized we had no water for showers either. I was able to wash my hair in the sink though. Nicaragua has a lot of problem with electricity cuts. A oil is used to provide electricity, the costs have escalated recently and power supply is erratic.

18Jun
We´re going fishing. We got into this plastic boat that could seat about 10 and spent the next 3 hours motoring around the coast, fishing rods out. I didn’t even get a nibble but Thomas nearly caught a beauty. However, Aidan and Antoine were the only ones to get something and keep it. Aidan caught this long fish like a sword fish with amazingly sharp teeth. Antoine caught this lovely yellow fish all in the last 30 minutes. We got dropped off in Majagual beach. It was glorious, but hot so didn’t venture out to much from the shade of the little thatched, wooden restaurant. There was a lot of banter between us 4 Irish. Really fun bunch of lads. It has been a long time since I have had that. It was like being with the gang form uni at home, as there was a lot of rib taking and slagging off about jackeens, culchies, county rivalry etc.

When Orlando came to pick us up, he had the Irish flag on the front of the 4WD and had on his Guinness hat. Hilarious! Aoiffe ended up waving the flag all the way home, as it fell off and Orland had to rescue it. He was so chuffed. I just wish my Spanish was better so I could communicate better with him.

Still no showers upstairs and but enough has come back to flush the toilets, which were beginning to smell. Thomas allowed me to use his shower downstairs, which was mighty nice of him.

That evening we all went to the Pelican, a 5 star hotel. They have happy hour from 5-8 Wed and Fri. with 2 for the price of 1 cocktails. Really cool bar and most of the gringo set, be they backpackers, tourists or residents head there. We then sauntered to the Iguana, the local hotspot near the beach. It was busy and the music was pumping and we whiled the time away til 1am. We said good bye to the Belgians and French as they were leaving next day.

Thursday 19Jun
Was breakfasting in the Mercado, when Aoiffe and Aidan came in. Then this guy came up as he knew Aoiffe. He turns out to be Edward (Irish), who owns Nica Geeks, the solar powered internet cafe that Herman mentioned a few days ago. Small world! He then tells me about Nina, the Irish girl that married Orlando´s nephew. And that Orlando and his family had gone to Ireland for the wedding. I hadn’t realized that bit. Edward moved here 2 years ago. His speciality is organising a yearly pub crawl from San Juan to Maderas in oxcarts. with about 20 people on each oxcart with a DJ etc. They had 1 oxcart last year and this year he procured a 2nd one. It would take an Irish man...

Aoiffe told Edward about her stabbing. She had just arrived in Granada and gone to dinner. On her way home, two locals accosted her and stabbed her in the joint of her arm, to get her handbag. She had to go to hospital for stitches etc. She wont walk home now alone even here. So I think it was a pretty bad shock. Not a nice thing to happen to such a lovely girl.

20Jun
It rained this morning, so I can have a shower. Phew...

Lying in bed at around 7am, I heard the band start up. Ah yes its friday and the fiesta of San Juan. Every weekend its the same. The church has a hell of a sound and you can hear it throught the town. The priest is more like the leader of the band than a priest with a good voice and a personality. Some of the songs have a salsa beat and there must be a synthesiser there too as there seems to be a lot of instruments. You can hear the crowd whooping and clapping. I will have to go to a service over the weekend, just to see what is going on. Church was never this good at home.

I saw the local firebrigade carting this huge statue of San Juan around town. Behind that was a 4WD pickup truck. The band was in the back playing away. Writing this I can still hear the priest and it is now 11.30 am, so not sure what he is doing but it seems to have something to do with kids as there are a lot of small voices.

Later, I passed by my Spanish school and Sarah and Carmine called me in. I gave a little envelope to Carmine with a little money in it. She insisted on giving me a pair of her earrings. I tried not to take them but she forced them into my bag. I will really miss those I met at the school.

Sarah told me that a chap was killed at the rodeo last Sunday. I was taken aback. He apparently got trampled, then kicked in the head. Over the years 3 people have been killed. It reminds you how dangerous this game is, even though most of the time it looks silly. She also told me 2 local men were killed in a car, 3wks ago, on the way to Maderas, her friends came across, them on their way to surf.

As it looked like rain, I went to the hairdressers. My hair is now SHORT. Not quite where I was going with it. It is ok but...SHORT! Oh weill it will grow back.

Thomas and I went to the Pelican again. Aidan had scarpered to Granada 2 days ago, to meet a lady... Still wasn't back... Aoiffe came up later with Sherry. It was then onto the Iguana. Later a few of us carried on to the Sunrise, a local club but it was all couples and not so comfortable to dance, as locals kept coming up and wanting to dance and I wanted to dance solo.

21Jun
Wrecked tired but went to the beach. Later went to see how Aoiffe was, as she got food poisoning. Thomas got asked on a date by a local girl across the street. Woman just come to him. So I joined Aidan and Garret whom I met in Panama City. Small world. However, Thomas left with the girl for another bar, and ran into her ex boyfriend and his friends. The ex started shouting at Thomas, so he left and sensibly came back to us as he didn't want trouble. Things can get a bit volatile around here, if you are not careful. Thomas told us that she was a cousin of the girl who was murdered and said the local, we hang out with was the lookout when the gringo was killing her. The guy we hang out with seems nice and it is hard to believe that. Although Aoiffe has a few minor stories to tell about him too. I think there was a lot of hearsay and it is hard to distinguish the truth.

Thomas, Aidan and I ended up in the Sunrise again. But I didn't dance, all couples again. But we saw Edward the Irish guy here asleep, with his head on the table.

4am got to bed. Ouch!

22Jun
Watched the Rodeo again. A few people came very close to havign their last Rodeo. One guy had a big cut in his back where he had been gored by the bull. Another got trampled on but walked off with help. Still, both of them came back for more. Unbelieveable!

So cute. This little girl came up to me and was curious about my camera. I left her use it. Her little sister was called Sandra. So cute. While she was taking photographs and in between bulls, this guy stood on the fence and did a little pole dancing. The whole crowd was hooting. Reminded me of my girls... ha ha... The little girl managed to get a photo of the guy who got gored...

Towards the end. The Commentator announced that the Rodeo was now international, as Edward from Ireland was going to ride a bull. Well Edward bounces out riding the bull alright and 2 meters and 2 seconds later he was on the floor eating dirt . He survived! It was hilarious. He had this pink and black leather thing with tassels over his legs, like the cowboys of old, used to wear over their trousers when riding. Mad. Totally Loco.

While crossing the bridge, we watched, a load of local boys, jumping and diving about 30 feet into the river celebrating.

The boys and I ended up on the porch in front of our hostel on the rockign chairs as usual. Orlando was in fine form and Osvaldo from across the street, was there. They are really sweet to me and always complimentary. I get a big hug from both now. Orlando had these 2 american chaps there too. One has lived here for 5 years and broke his leg recently so is on crutches. There were 2 local girls there too. The rum was being poured generously, as was the beer. Orlando gave me his rum, which I made last. I hate beer but ended up with one of them too, to be polite. There was lots of laughter, with the boys. Slagging each other off again. Orlando put on some music from the 80s. Spirits were high.

All was going well. Until one local girl in front of the guy with the broken leg. He started hitting her. Thomas went to try to protect her. Apparently, she hit his leg. Then it all kicked off. She tried to hit him back started shouting at him in Spanish. Then the guy with the broken leg started yelling at her gringo boyfriend to control his woman. Yeah he was that kind of guy. The boyfriend started telling her off but ended up telling her she was crazy. She said something about him not being Nicaraguan. Poor Elizabeth the owner was trying, a bit successfully to calm things down but that butthead kept aggravating it by yelling. I went over to butthead and distracted him by telling him I appreciated he may have got hurt but he shouldn't hit a woman. He told me I knew crap all and just because I was here a week, meant I thought I knew it all and that I didn't live here. Well I told him I didn't have to live in a place to know you don't do that. What a complete tosser. I think some of the people who move here drink a lot and are often misfits from society. I have seen a few now...

Anyway the girl left in a huff, Butthead was still yapping on about her hitting his bad leg. We ignored him. Thomas had warned me he was a idiot. He then got driven away. Orlando stayed out of it and seemed to be very sad. However, later he chatted with his wife and perked up. He came out with a T-shirt that said Lost in Ireland. We just had to take pictures. Aidan, Thomas and I finished the evening chatting with Orlando. Orlando loves Bulmers and Jameson. He showed me all his photos, postcards and memorabilia he brought back form his 12 days in Ireland. He just totally fell in love with it. His wife came out with his Jameson T-shirt. He was so chuffed, as he had thought it was stolen. She does a lot to make things better for him. We wondered what the story was. We concluded we have to send him something from Ireland when we all get home.

3 Countries in a day...Nicargua at last..

2008-06-10T00:17:00.022+01:00

Well let me start this blog by thanking all of you who actually read it. It is so nice when someone actually tells me they read it. It always comes as a surprise. Even more surprising when they keep reading, and like it. Actually a bit of a shock. Ha ha. So thanks for reading and the really nice feedback.

After Robert left, I stayed in Luna’s Castle for another few days resting, reading, sorting laundry, books etc out. I felt a bit alien in Luna’s, as this time I didn’t know anyone and everyone seemed to know someone. Although a few staff recognized me and chatted a little.

One morning I sat next to this young newly qualified doctor, from Canada. He was a well traveled, intelligent chap and the strange thing is once one person talks to you then it opens the way for those around you to join in. So had a great chat him and some Americans.

On the evening I was buying my ticket to Nicaragua, I overheard some people discussing going to a movie in Allbrook. So I joined them, after I bought my ticket. They were nice people and “Prince Caspian” was lovely. We all came out pleasantly surprised that it was good. It has been so long since I have been to a film.

Next Morning, at Allbrook, I got the 11am bus out of Panama. At about 2am. I was deposited in the town before the border and stuck there for 5 hours. This El Salvadorian lady decided she was bored so chatted to me about the Bette Midler movie and then some soap that was being shown on the TV in the waiting room. I filled her in when she missed bits in pidgin Spanish and sign language. I think she was bored and liked to talk. I end up with so many random conversations in some unusual circumstances. It is bizarre but I like it.

Got to Panama/Costa Rica border 7am. It was a bit confusing as I had no clue what was going. However, with a little sign language and guidance from the conductor/ driver, I ended up in this room. Our luggage was lined up on the floor. Why, became clear later. A lovely cocker spaniel, I had been admiring, was lead in and sniffed all our bags. Even though I’m sure I have nothing, there is the fear that the dog will smell something. Of course it would be so easy in the dorms of the hostel to put something in my bag. As these thoughts were going through my head, the dog finished his duties without finding his quarry. We walked to the Costa Rican side and went through the process again.

We were picked up by our patient driver and for the next few hours I sat next to Rutgar, from Amsterdam. I thought he was English due to his accent but that was due to his living in England for 6 years. We spoke our search for non conventional work, books, politics and travelling or course. He was going back to this place in Nicaragua where he had met this chap (Edward, I think) through a hostel. Edward owned this mini park of primary forest. However, he had created and maintained trails and was trying to build some eco friendly cabanas. At present, he was staying in this little shack. Rutgar ended up there with Milly, this young Indian/English lady he has met on and off over the last 5 years whilst she has been traveling. They were both so enamored with Edward. they each gave him $2000 to build cabanas. This will cut their trip short but the guy had nothing, they got a lifetime invite there and it was their first project together. Rutgar is cutting his trip short by a few months, so he can go live in London with Milly to give their relationship a chance. It will be a test as they have always met while traveling. A pretty cool story. I wished him the best of luck.

At the Costa Rican/Nicaraguan border, we disembarked with all our luggage and had to go through baggage checks. In the queues, Costa Rican money changers offered us 18.2/18.50 Cordobas for a dollar but the locals, told me wait until the Nicaraguan side, for 19 Cordobas. At the Nicaraguan side, when it came to going into the room for our baggage check, there was a man at the entrance. Beside him was a traffic light just red and green. He examined our papers. Monica, an Austria who had been helping us, she wsa before me and was told to press the green button, I was next. Both of us assumed that meant we could go to have our bags checked. However this actually meant we were free to go back to our bus. What a system. We were in Nicaragua.

About 1.5 hrs later, we were in Rivas. I was not expecting to get there so fast so was not prepared. I was out in the street before I knew it being hassled by kids trying to sell me hammocks and a taxi driver who wanted t$20 dollars to take me to San Juan del Sur. I declined and thought, was I nuts to decline. I was in a one street town and had no idea where the bus station etc. was with a huge rucksack in the heat. Hmmm I just walked to the right, as I saw the Tica bus agency and thought I can at least ask them where the station is. Some kindly locals pointed down the street, I had no clue what they were saying but I walked. I then asked this girl waiting for a bus, where the station for San Juan was. The girl said here.

Taxis came every few minutes but no bus. However, one taxi came and the girl got in after asking him about San Juan. I figured I might as well do the same, so asked him the price. In a quiet voice he told me $3. Which I am sure was more than the local paid but at least it wasn’t $20. 2 more chaps got into the back along the route. The road was a mass of potholes and trenches but was being repaired. I think this was after the big storm from the hurricane that was here a few weeks ago and caused major landslides which prevented buses coming into Costa Rica from the south side of Panama. I delivered at my chosen hostel (Hospadaje Elizabeth). I booked in.

It is weird but since Panama, I am feeling more alienated from the gringo set. I have not met many other travellers that come close to my age. Most are about half. There are many times I feel so old. It may have even got worse since my birthday. Can it make that much of a difference? Who knows!!

A lot of tourists here are also only here for a few weeks. So I didn’t really feel like mixing with them.I was going to choose another place. However, when I went to look the next day, I didn’t bother moving. One choice was the main hostel (Casa Oro) which is full of 20somethings all way too bubbly and some of the conversations seemed so inane, I just couldn’t face it. OR various hostels again with much the same clientele. Or maybe it is just me. So I gave up for another day.

I am enjoying the quiet time and I want to do some Spanish lessons. I wandered around and checked San Juan out. It has a magnificent horseshoe shaped bay, where waves just roll in a horseshoe shape up to the shore. There are a few restaurants lined along the shore many with thatched roofs but it is relatively low key. However, the amount of expats that are/have moved in is phenomenal. I checked the realty agencies. Some developments offer 200 homes and 320 condos. That is just one and there are several of these. Many gated. To be fair it is not obvious walking around the centre of town. Except of course the variety of westernish, up market restaurants that charge closer to US prices than Nicaraguan.

Last night coming back to the room was depressing. Though, clean, the rooms etc, have bare unpainted floorboards, the walls need a good paint job. The shower is literally a pipe coming from the wall, with no shower head. The water, whilst not having the greatest volume, also tends to stop after 5 minutes, necessitating turning on/ off the shower, before continuing. AND the water is COLD, not tepid, COLD. I am so not a cold shower person. I thought I must leave.

This morning when the owner heard I was Irish, I was carted off to the freezer to be shown a large can of Guinness that one of the guests left as a present. He was so sweet. It thought oh bugger, I can’t leave now.

I was looking for Spanish schools and this lady in one motioned me to come over. There was just something about the school and the price was right, I signed up for a few days. I was introduced to Lorgia Castello, a lovely 29 year old mother of 2. She talks really clearly and slowly and I can actually have a conversation in Spanish. Very Basic yes but at least I can converse. It felt nice. We got straight into it and I learned the present tense. Three hours later I was still ok.

As part of the learning experience we have conversations in between teaching. I am learning a lot about Nicaragua. She told me, her son was 9, her daughter nearly 4. I expressed surprise, she told me, she was old compared to a lot of girls, getting pregnant at the moment. This is not just due to experimentation and ignorance but also due to abuse inside and out side the home and is very sad… The law does not protect these young girls or indeed women from domestic violence, even if the laws do, they are not upheld. A

fter class, when I returned to the hospedaje, the owner dragged me back out to the porch to meet an “amigo”. He was Irish. Ha ha. I thought it was just the Guinness can but this Dubliner, who’s Spanish was better than mine, told me the owner has relatives in Galway and had been there a few months ago and fell in love with Ireland. What can I say? As I am a sucker for that stuff, I stayed. But I think I am not the only one suckered in, there are now 2 Irish guys here.

Later I went into a bar/restaurant that served Mexican food. The food was not so good but I got chatting to Jeff, from the US, now living in Mexico. He had married an English girl and lived in London for years but when that failed he moved ot Mexico as he was fed up with the US. He was now motor biking home after biking from Mexico through Central America and South America for 7 months. He was trying to avoid Honduras where he knew, at one particular road, the local police were going to stop him to extort money illegally. He had heard about it on a bike website, but on his way down he still got done for $60.

Sometimes the water supply just stops. I had flushed but there was not enough water to push things through, as they say. Oh god the embarrassment. I kept trying to flush the toilet but only a dribble of water came each time. I was sweating with embarrassment, I was dreading leaving, as I would have to explain to the persons whose footsteps I could hear. It thought about what to do and decided on getting a bucket and water and pouring it down. I came out of the toilet. Phew! No one was waiting. I went in search of a bucket. Luckily, I found one. That meant at least I didn’t have to empty the bin, with all the toilet paper. Alas, I tried the water. Oh the horror of it. No water came. Not a drop. My heart sank.

After about 10 minutes the water returned, I threw a bucket of water down the toilet and all was well. Phew... The sheer relief.

While I was washing my teeth I got distracted by this spider and ant. The spider was the same length as the ant but 2-3 times the width. The ant was trying to run away but the spider ran around the ant at such a fast pace, the ant could not escape or sting. Within a few minutes, the spider succeeded in making the ant so dizzy, it could carry it off to its web. I didn’t realize spiders did that.

After 3 days of 3hr lessons, I booked up for the 5 days program. 4 hrs/day. I then went to Playa Madera. Casa Oro runs a shuttle there and back each day. The road is ROUGH!! It is a nice beach where the waves pound the beach and the surfing is pretty damn good. I have to rent a board but not until the Spanish lessons are finished. I am too knackered.

I went to a beachside restaurant for lunch. There was only one other, an elderly man, about 80, sat in the open area, eating. He beckoned me to come over and asked my name and my country. It was evident that he had had a few beers, and was still finishing one. I went back to my table and started to read. I was beckoned over again and he told me I was beautiful and then he told me he wanted me. Great! And all I wanted was a quiet lunch. Thank god he left early.
The day after, I was walking down the street, when this 60s+ gent tells me he loves me and wanted to give me a flower. I smiled said the flower was lovely and carried on.

Over the last few days, I have spent my time at Spanish class, eating, writing up my notes etc. electronically and wandering around a little of San Juan. At the moment, there is only one other student. Sarah, a high school student from Montana USA. She is the sweetest girl. She has done a fair bit of travelling even though she is only 17. This year she is here in Nicaragua for 1 month to study Spanish, learn to surf and volunteer. She is staying at a home stay with a local family. I was offered that but I could t bare not having control over what I eat or when I eat. So declined.

We had a chat about her homestay. There is a girl there that has been taken in as her mother cannot support her. She is 10. Sarah is helping her with her homework as no one else does and the girl has fallen behind as her schooling was limited before she came to live at the homestay. They have provided the girl with a lot but they make her work like a servant and the poor thing doesn’t get time to play. So Sarah takes her for ice-cream and a play in the park when the mother of the house is at church. At least the child will have some fun while Sarah is around. Sarah also told me about these 2 strange ladies one with a chimpanzee. I have yet to see them.

During one of our conversations, Lorgia told me about her husbands, sisters 6 kids. The sister lives in Costa Rica, but drinks a lot and goes with me. She has basically abandoned her 6 kids. I am not sure what happened the 2 girls but the 4 boys were taken in by Lorgia,s husband’s brother. Now this brother, his wife, and their own 2 kids and the other 4 kids, all share one room. I think there are many families like this.

To give you a further idea of things here. Lorgia workers for this Spanish language school. Today they asked her to become a member of their cooperative. This is a great opportunity for her. All she has to do is contribute $270. Not much you would think that should be easy. Well no it is not. Her dad earns money from renting some of his house to phone call centre. But claims to have no money. I thought that was so selfish. He gave her brother money without even questioning.

So this means she needs a loan. Except the bank requires so much proof etc of earnings and paperwork. Lorgia went to her room and cried. Her mom then suggested that she try and get the loan. They tried but the bank has to come see their house to see if they have enough to cover the loan should they not pay back… It will cost $33 each month for a year to pay back this $270. That makes it about a 50% interest rate. How can anyone try to set up a business or buy or build anything. Everything is stacked against them. I saw the same thing in Panama. The last I heard was the bank manger didn’t bother turning up on Friday, as planned. Lorgia only has until Monday to get the money. I tried looking for her today but couldn’t get hold of her. So I don’t know what happened.

One afternoon, Carmine, the lovely lady who had beckoned me into the school, and Lorgia organized salsa and meringue lessons for Sarah and I at the school all for $6 each. It is there way of making a bit of extra cash and I don’t resent it. Oh we had a laugh. They are such lovely people. 3 little girls joined us too. Not sure I learned much steps but we had fun.

The heat here in the afternoons is deadly. We have not had much rain. When it does rain it can be torrential but it is nice to have the cloud. I tend to go to internet cafes, usually the same one. I often see the owner, an honest chap, give lessons in computers to the locals. One evening, a girl on his staff was writing a letter for this older man, looked about 90 bless. Anyway he says something to me but I had no idea so just smiled. God knows what I smiled at.

Next evening he comes over and says hi again then shows me his gold chain with the face of christ hanging off it. This was no medal, but a blooming great hunk of gold. It must have been 22, carat as it was quiet yellow. He was very proud of it, and kept touching my arm to tell me. Although quite sweet about it. I said it was beautiful. I have very limited vocabulary... The next evening he was there again. He may have told me I was lovely but I'm not sure. But the sweet little man seems to like me anyway.

Later, the old lady with the chimpanzee came in. Yes a chimpanzee. She carries it around in her arms. It is as big as a 6 month old baby. AND she puts a nappy on it. I swear it is like a child. The lady is about 70 if she is a day and from the US. Sarah had told me about her. There is another one too and they hang out together and dress similarly. I have found sometimes that places like this attracts strange people that sometimes don’t fit into normal society but in a strange way fit in, in places like this. Hmm probably why I like it here...

Yesterday, Carmine and David, another teacher brought Sarah and I up to the highest point in town overlooking the harbour/beach. To get to the vista, we had to cross the San Juan river. There was a rope about 3 feet above the river going from the bank we were on to the other side. This 10 year old, pulled himself and the boat he was in, over to us, using the rope. We loaded onto the boat and our little ferryman ferried us across. Of course we didn’t pay him til we got to the other side… There, an older gentleman took the money and pocketed it. I hope the child saw some of it but I doubt it.

The vista was stunning. We also saw the other side of town in more ways than one. This is where many villas have been built, including swimming pools etc. Apparently there are many Canadians here and Germans, as well as Americans. NICE HOUSES

As Carmine was a cousin of one of the cleaners, we got to look into one of the houses. It was tastefully decorated with lovely features. The front wall was a wooden door that surrounded the whole front of the house with portholes in the door sections. The doors could be folded back to completely expose the living room to the vista below and their swimming pool. Nice if you can have it.

As we were climbing the hills and more so when we were descending, we saw hundreds of these orange/red and purple crabs. I had always thought crabs live on the beach but no. Some live here up in the hills. They can climb walls and trees. Each evening towards sunset they line the paved road up to the view point. You can hear their claws on the tarmac. Like nails on a blackboard. Give me an idea for a new horror movie, “Revenge of Killer Crabs”… It was a bit creepy. Glad I was not there in the dark. On seeing them, Sarah said it gave her a whole new idea if road kill.

Islands in the sun... or er em rain. Bocos del Toro...

2008-06-09T01:41:00.018+01:00

23May
Early next morning, we got the bus back to David, then onto Changuinola to go to the islands of Bocos del Toro. We met this fab couple who were staying in Bocos del Toro who helped us tremendously. They advised going to Almiralty not Changuinola, as boats were every thirty minutes rather than every few hours. So we followed with them.

We got off the bus and in seconds our bags were taken by these young boys, by this time the couple had procured a taxi and our bags were deposited in this. Of course the boys wanted a tip, which we gave, even if we didn't request their help. They were there in the pouring rain and deserved it. Of course we had a repeat of this, at the dock. The boat waited for us and off we sped to Bocos del Toro, the capital of the islands of the same name. The view from the boat was superb, though limited as we had to peer out of the plastic covering protecting us from the heavy downpour. It was phenomenal though, with the couples help, we were off the bus and on Bocos del toro, all in about 40 minutes, with about 3 minute gaps between all the different transports. Result!!!

We had taken the precaution of pre-booking, the hospedaje; Casa Veranda, a 10 min walk from the dock. I was curious about the owner as she sounded drunk on the phone. However, it turns out she had had a stroke as I found out later.

Our room was the best in the house. It was a bright room with light blue painted wooden walls. Lots of windows and oh so clean. The ensuite was clean, spacious and with hot water. Bliss! The hospedaje was a very nicely maintained colonial gem a short distance from most things. at a rate of $34, it was the most expensive place but, we deserved it for Robert's last few days and to make up for Casa Grande and to a lesser extent Casa Viejo.
We found a lovely restaurant called Lemongrass which served Asian fusion food. Oh to have spiced food again. Yummmmmmy. We ended up eating there quite a few times including our last day. We spent the first day around the town and walked to the nearest beach. We realised why no one was there and used the boats etc. to go elsewhere. Bocos is little town, the main street has many backpacker restaurants, hostels etc. The area along the waterfront is covered in restaurants and cafes, mostly geared at the tourist or expat. Again there are lots of Americans here and again they are buying lots of property and developing it into gated developments, exclusive resorts, private homes etc...

It is a pretty place tho and very laid back. Although the daily rainy season downpours around 3-4ish, limit the time we can explore. I could stay for a while here and thought about coming back when Robert left but decided I am revisiting too many places so didn't return.

The waterfront restaurants are on stilts, with the road facing section covered and then a deck over the water. The Caribbean meets New Orleans. This decking, of course extends the amount of space available for lounging and tables.

One hotel had a lovely separate gazebo over the water, a little 2 tabled affair, extended via a little bridge from the deck/restaurant. Most afternoons, we took advantage of the shelter offered there, from the heavy downpours, to read our books/partake of a few beverages/snacks. The view was always interesting. the neighbouring establishments, the other islands, the boats picking up or delivering people or goods and of course the facinating rain. After outstaying our welcome, we usually moved to another waterfront restaurant, not too far away, so we didn't get too wet.

To get to our hotel, we have to pass Mondo Taitu, this is the main backpacker hostel in town, although there are a few others, including its sister, that give it a run for its money. However, this wins due to the presence of a packed bar each evening with patrons, attracted by cheap drinks, theme nights and the knowledge that most of the young twenty something's are going to be there. We felt too old to go in, even though we were tempted, as most other places in town died after 9pm. Bocos has many older people but none seem to be backpackers just residents or tourists. I feel my age difference here more than most places.

Next day we got a boat from Bocos to Red Frog Beach, which apparently is going to be Dead Frog Beach, as a new resort has started to build and the poisonous, Red Dart Frogs, which gave the beach its name, are in danger of disappearing. A Pity as it is lovely. It was great zipping across the water, in this high powered wooden passenger boat for 10 min. We then had to walk a little path through the forest, to the uncrowded beach (maybe 15 people). It was lovely and we stayed for a few hours. as the rains start about 4, we ended up in our favourite cafe, drinking juices/cocktails and reading, until dark, then we dined until the rain stopped. Very laid back and chilled.

Next day we zipped along again to another beach. This time we were dropped off at Old bank, the capital of Isla Bastimentos and told to follow the path. At times we were dubious we were on the right path. The 15 min hike was a bit rough, as much of the ground was muddy, slippery and downhill. Our reward was Wizard beach, a lovely secluded place with maybe 10 people.

At about 2.30 we left, as we know the rain usually starts about 4 and the hike back would take hours, if we got caught in the torrential rain. However, we were lucky, as the rain just started early, as we got to the dock. There was no boat, so we went to the Red Rooster restaurant next to the dock on the water front. This waterfront restaurant was like all the others, i.e. on stilts etc. However, this was constructed in unpainted wood. The furniture was as rustic and basic, as the construction. Thre were various roosters here and there. The owners were an American and his wife to be, a local. They were really nice and chatty. While we snacked and drank, a man from the infamous local band "The Castaways", formerly known as the "beach Boys", took out his guitar and entertained us with slightly bawdy local reggae songs such as "if your mother and wife were drowning, who would you save?". He then played and sung Bob Marley and Bob Dylan. It was really lovely there and I had wished we had more time and could have stayed a few days here.

Bastimentos is very poor, much poorer than Bocos, with a more authentic Caribbean, untouched vibe. You can see a little of the differences between the fotos from the Red Rooster of Old bank and the fotos above of Bocas.

On the way back I got to chat to this chap who is a professional surfer from Bocas and represents Panama.His nickname is filipone or something like that. I tried searching for it so maybe he made it up but he was a really interesting chap, had a tiny surfboard and knew about Caitlin, the owner of our hospedaje and told me that she had a stroke and that also she liked the old bottle a bit too much.

That evening we decided we had to go to a bar. We ended up in, what is locally known, as the wreck deck. The bar/club has the earthbound road section and its decking on stilts. There are decking sections, interlinked by little bridges. The decking and tables etc. surround sections of exposed water, where you can view the sunken, rusty banana boat, in it's watery grave, highlighted by strategically placed lamps. You also get to watch the little fish swimming around the wreck, whilst sipping your Cuba Libre. It provides probably the most unusual /individual decorative accessory, I have seen in any bar.

26thMay
t was time to leave Bocas. We wandered around time and saw some of what we had missed or forgotten from our first forays and it would have been so nice to have had more time. We even found the Starfish Cafe, which was a cool cafe with lovely nibbles and a nice deck, where we read for a while.

It is a pity we had gone to El Valle as I think more time here would have been better spent. But such is life. At 5pm after 30 min delay, we got on the Panama Airlines 20 seater little plane, that was to return us to Panama City. Again, we struggled to get a taxi for even a fair price, but we were their hostages and it was again pouring from he heavens. We got to our pre-booked hotel with the rather over glamorously named Hotel Acapulco, Calle 30, in the business district. That evening we got a taxi to Calle Uruguay. The hot street for bars and restaurant. We had a delightful upmarket meal of Falafel, hummus, and kebabs. Robert had never tried a hookah pipe, so we ordered one with mixed fruit tobacco. It was quite nice but after 20 min or so we got bored of it. We waked around a bit to investigate somewhere for tomorrow night and got a taxi home for of course more than the official price. It was a really nice evening.

Next day we explored the Allbrook shopping mall againand just had to get a foto of these great local buses...The art on some are just incredible.

28May
We breakfasted, interneted, then it was time for Robert to fly home. It was quite weird to be alone again after being with someone 24/7.

It was really lovely to have someone to have proper conversations with, rather than "the what is your name and where do you come" from set. Not that I mind those but I really need less superficial conversations too. We had some really good ones and share a lot of common ground. We spoke about the book he bought me for my birthday: The Tipping point among others and he filled me in on what is happening in the western worked during my absence. I have missed a lot. We debated and chatted a lot. It was just really good.

28May

Alone again Naturally... I set off to Luna's Castle. I figured I would book into the dorm in Luna's, as it was familiar and busy, which of course it was. It was like going back to a friend, rather than a gloomy empty hotel room. I quickly settled in to having my pancakes each morning and sorting my mail etc. out. Although there was still a big gap which is taking a while to fill. It is nice and I need a bit of solitary time to think and plan. I haven't really had a lot since I started in Jan.

Panama is not just a canal you know...

2008-06-05T23:21:00.014+01:00

15May
Well today is my birthday and at least I am in a much better town than I was 2 years ago and I will have company. Robert arrives today.

I left Chris and the boys and moved back to Casca Viejo. I mooched around during the day sorting things out, then returned to my room to await Roberts text. He finally arrived about 8.30, exhausted. He had not had sleep since about 3.30 am yesterday morning. He had 2 stops one in London and one in Miami. However in Miami he had to take all his bags and go through customs even though he was just transferring. This took hours of course and was incredibly disorganised. What a ridiculous set up and waste of time and money for a transfer.

After a short rest, we went off in search of this jazz bar, mentioned in a Luna's Cafe leaflet. It was my birthday!!!

It was also just around the corner. We paid our $3 entrance fee, which included one glass Sangria. After walking down this dark, little corridor, we were suddenly in this rather large, dimly lit courtyard. In the top left hand corner was a makeshift bar, behind which were a couple of wooden wall mounted shelves, unpainted, a similar counter top and a fridge. Drinks were limited to sangria or beer. The stage, was a foot high affair to the left of the "bar". Scattered large plants, were strewn with fairy lights and seats were upturned paint buckets. Our table was a plank of wood over another upturned bucket. It was rustic. All under the stars, with the surrounding buildings enjoying the view. It was the coolest bar I have been to in a long time.

The music was mellow lounge jazz that evoked a 50's/60's Parisian joint, minus the cigarette smoke. We had arrived early at 10pm, so managed to get a seat. We sipped our free sangria and let the mellowness reign. It was just what Robert needed considering his day and it was a nice place to have a b´day drink. At about 11pm, the band came on, including a double base. The mellow jazz vibe remained. This would be so good to have in london. It was a nice introduction to Panama City.

Over the next few days, exploring Casco Viejo (the old city), we found that there is an amazing amount of renovation. Panama is the place to be right now for property investment. Money is pouring in and the old city is beginning to blossom and bear fruit, which is further encouraging investment. However, this tends to be centred around Calle 1 etc. up to 9 and not all streets in between.

The buildings that are renovated stand out like a rose among some pretty weeds. They are beautifully renovated and you get a view of what the city may have been like 100-200 years ago. Many other buildings are ramshackle and near collapse, but have a fading beauty, with the remnants of their grand beautifully carved balconies and shutters taunting the future developer. Robert said it reminded him of Havana. There are many tourists/expats here, mostly American. This of course has attracted a gourmet supermarket, some bijou cafes and arty shops, that would not look out of place on the kings road in London.

In-between is the odd ruin that sometimes houses some gentlemen watching futbol on tv. How they get the electricity for this is a mystery. Sometimes they are workers repairing the building, others are squatters. In the habitable run down mansions, you see a group of teenagers or perhaps local mothers, standing in the street, peering over the half door into a living room, watching a movie or some soap, enjoying the generosity of a wealthier neighbour, sharing their good fortune. See street foto.

On Friday and Saturday evenings, you can feel the pulsating energy of the locals, as they celebrate the weekend. The volume of their boom boxes pounding out salsa and raggaeton, is raised to deafening levels, in various households. Passing by, you can practically feel the ground throb in time to the music. Some houses seem to be gathering points, selling alcohol or snacks. There is laughter and dancing and you can sense you are in Latin America.

However wandering up past Calle 11, you can sense a different vibe. More bodies lying prostrate in the doorways. Girls in the shortest of shorts, wandering around with no obvious purpose, at certain corners. Dodgy looking characters, near a bar offering ladies night. Add to that the increased dirt, smells and general unkemptness, with a sense of sleeping danger and you get a better picture of what the more touristy part of Casco Viejo was a while back before prosperity hit and the requisite security guards patrolled. Restaurants veer from the local lady cooking from her skanky kitchen and selling her offerings over her half door, to the upmarket decadent $80 for 2 affair, with satin napkins.

Robert and I like our food, so sampled a few of the more salubrious establishments. One night we ate at one of the poshest. Oh it was good. We had a fabulous temder mouth watering steak, with perfectly cooked vegetables and quaffed a glorious rich merlot. It was the best meal I have had since I got to Latin America. Yet we paid $10 for some fruit salad, cake, juice and coffee in this bijou cafe, each. Prices depend on how much you will pay. Some good restaurants are for the tourist, some for the tourist and affluent locals. Expat money has totally changed the face of this area in the last 4 years. This city however, would still be disintegrating if not for it.
16May
We got at taxi to Miraflores. This is one of the locks on the Panama canal and is nearest to Panama City. Luckily the Our luck was in. There was a gynormous cruise ship, Disney Magic, in the first part of the lock. I didn't know Disney world had cruises but they do. It even had Mickey Mouse waving and cheering. Also at the back of the ship was goofy glued onto it. There was a great atmosphere. The ship´s guests, lined along the railings, waving and cheering to those looking on from the lock platform. You could sense the excitement of those onboard. It really is a once in a lifetime thing, to go through the Panama Canal. I have to admit it was pretty cool even in a kitsch way. The actual mechanics of the lock were pretty impressive too. The ship enters a lock that is quite high up. Once the lock is full of water, the gates are opened and these little mechanical engines, like mini trains pull the ship into the next lock that is lower. This fills and then the boat is then released into the next part of the canal. We watched this and another huge cargo ship pass through. Then ventured to the museum to learn more facts of this tremendous development. See foto of Disney cruise ship.

The next day we got a taxi to the Causaway. This is a long road that was constructed between 4 small islands near Panama City. Along the road are restaurants and bars and you can hire bikes etc. We got stuck in one of these for a few hours while it bucketed with rain, which strangely enough is fascinating to watch, helped along by some wine and beer. I took some black and white fotos of this to play with my camera. See black and white foto.

18th May
El Valle a little town in the mountains, was reputed to have a sunday market, with 3 local tribes selling their handicrafts which inspired us to visit. We got a bus from Albrook Bus terminal. It was a bit of a squeeze, as the local buses are a bit smaller than coaches. We got to town about noon. Got a place right across from where the bus stopped. Just as we were walking in Jeremiah appeared. He was one of my sailing mates from Colombia. It was really good to see him. However, conversation was stilted as his English and my Spanish are about the same. i.e. not good.

The market was in full swing. It was disappointing however, as most of the indigenous people were not in their traditional clothes and many of the trinkets for sale were typical tourist items. Although there were some nice things too, but it was not quite what we expected and in retrospect we could have skipped it. After 30 minutes we tired or the market and lunched heartily for a couple of dollars each.

We were given a map by the hotel owner and so went off in search of the hot springs. Thirty minutes later we found them. It consisted of a fenced in green area. In one corner stood 2 pots of mud, a pale mud and a dark mud and a mirror all surrounded by concrete seating. We were instructed that we were to put the mud on our face, only. Then to wash it off after it dried. We joined others, in the face plastering or the drying phase. We waited and amused ourselves by taking fotos. The hot springs, were 2 concrete pools into which poured very warm water from the surrounding volcanic region. We sank into it's murky depths, then rinsed off under the cold shower. That was the hot springs experience. It was amusing.

We got back to the hotel and after dinner, ascended the stairs to the roof terrace with our bottle of wine. We met these 4 guys who were a mix of German, French and Austria. They had all met studying Spanish in Spain, whilst in university. We had a nice chat with them, then as we were knackered from our strenuous activities, we went to bed.

Next morning we decided to hike to one of the waterfalls. After an hour and a few false leads, we eventually found the trail to the waterfall. It was hot, so tiring. The view though was lovely as we were surrounded by trees sprouting from the hillsides. At one stage this Granny and her grandchildren passed us out, as did this mother and her daughter. I guess we need to get fitter. Just about 1.30 we felt rain so rushed back to town. We didn't quite make it so stood in this doorway for 30 or so minutes, watching the most torrential rain. We figured we got the most out of El Valle and got the bus out of there.

We got back to Panama about 6 and perused the shopping mall. We then got a taxi to Casco Viejo. I didn't ask the price of the taxi beforehand, as normally you just hand 2 dollars which is more than enough for 2 people and drivers are usually happy with this. If you ask then you show you don't know. This is what I was told. But not this time. Our driver started yelling at us that it was 5 dollars. I said no it was 2. He threatened to call the police. So being miss stubborn and pissed off with this attitude from someone driving a rather new car not the bangers many of the others drove, I told him to go ahead, I would wait. Strangely enough he then took out some leaflet, indicating that it was 3 dollars from Allbrook. I said it wasn't but he wouldn´t let it go. Eventually to shut him up I gave him the extra dollar and was then annoyed at myself for giving in to such aggression which will of course encourage him to do it again. The ones in the bangers never seem to cause trouble and are often more polite. After that I tensed when ever it came to taking taxis. Robert wanted to ask the price but that didn't get us anywhere either as many taxis just laughed at us when we refused to pay 2 or 3 times the amount. I didn't have this problem before Robert came but then there were 4 of us. Maybe because Robert looks wealthier than we did, or we had really bad luck with drivers.

We had left our luggage in Casco Viejo hostel, but when we got there, they were booked out. So we headed to Lunas, of course they were booked too. Although bless them, they offered us a couch, if we couldn't find a bed. We were not having a good evening. We then noticed this place called Casa Grande, as we were desperate and it was getting late we booked in. It might have been big, huge in fact and was once a beautiful mansion but not for the last 50 or so years. Those property development programs would have had a field day...

We went back to get our bags from Casco Viejo hostel but when the owner heard where we were staying, he said don't stay there. It sells rooms by the hour and houses crack heads etc. He recommended this other place but it was too late, we had booked and paid and we felt for some bizarre reason to rise to the challenge. He advised us to leave our bags with him until the morning. So we did. We then went to a very nice restaurant facing onto the square for dinner and a few drinks to help us face our new abode.

In Casa Grande, the receptionist resided behind an iron cage. There were 2 gates to enter the hostel, each only opened from within the den. She then had another door barred, protecting her from the guests, or it could be the other way around from the look of her. Not a good omen.

We entered with extreme trepidation, especially the toilets. The toilets may have seen better days but I doubt it. The walls were stained by those that had run out of paper, toilet paper that is or maybe pen and ink. I kept waiting for the cockroaches to rear their ugly heads and feelers. But no, I didn't see any. Oh thank god. That would have been too insufferable.

The external concrete sinks made me retch a bit when I was cleaning my teeth but were usable. The bed, ah yes, god knows what activities it had seen. I looked at the sheets, they were stained and a bit torn but thank goodness, had been washed. However, the kind owners had provided a new packaged roll of toilet paper and a fresh packaged bar of soap. A hell of a lot more than other hostels provide and all this for only $7. A bargain. Er I think...

I don't know if I or Robert have ever ever stayed in a place so bad. I felt sorry for Robert, here he was on his annual 2 week holiday and this is what he had to resort to. He took it amazingly well.

We got an ok nights sleep. Amazing considering that I felt at any moment we were to be awoken by some crack head beating down the door to rob the gringos, he heard were staying here. Or awoken by some prostitute berating her client for not paying. But nothing all was calm and peaceful.

20May
The next morning, all we saw was some poor family, with the dad washing his toddler in the shower. I felt so sorry that this family was perhaps having the family holiday in this dingy hotel or forced to live here. Then again there are some living in much much worse and this would be considered luxurious. I think the hotel has a bad rep perhaps not deserved, considering it was top of the heap but one, in the lonely planet 2004 version or maybe we just got lucky.

Either way we got out of there fast. Robert choose not to even shave. We did the bare minimum and were gone. We had to get a taxi but with no issue to Allbrook and got the bus to Panama´s second city, David. Shockingly easy, we got the connecting bus to Boquete. This time we took the precaution of booking over the phone. We could not face another night like last night.

We ascended into the clouds and arrived in Boquete. Boquete is in the middle of the mountainous coffee plantation area, about 1200-1300m above sea level. It is wet 9 months of the year. However, it has now become the new miami. By this I mean it has become the retirement centre for many Americans and some Europeans. This is all due to some acclaimed International retirement magazine who voted it the 4th best city to retire in. They, needless to say,forgot to mention the rain.

Prices have sky rocketed and even the price of a pineapple is 3 times that in David. This is causing major problems to the local population, as they are forced out of their town and are forced to pay extortionate prices for their food, due to the influx of these wealthy grey gringos. Having spoken to a few of the locals, I got a feeling of resentment although not at the tourists, as they come, they spend, they leave. Tourists bring in money but don't affect the local economy so much. Ha the sore point is, that many of these retirees and expats that moved in a few years ago, now find that actually they don't like so much rain or are bored senseless, as there really is to not a great deal to do in Boquete, if you don't like hiking in the torrential rain or watching DVDs. So when they try to sell they struggle. However new properties sold, especially over the internet or even before the new owner sees them are still going up in price. Go figure...

We got to a nice hotel but for $30. It was the only one that I could understand over the phone and had availability. We found this really nice restaurant, that served a wide variety of food. It was quite westernised but the owner was Latina, so may have lived in the US etc. We feasted over a shared steak, lovely vegetables and even had wine and dessert... I am so spoiling myself.

21MayNext day we moved hotels so this took up the morning. We found a place for half the price and still quite nice. At midday it rained ferociously and didn't stop. We found a restaurant for lunch then, pottered around the shops while the rain was light. Checked out this really nice cafe that apparently runs coffee plantation tours. We didn't have the best nights sleep so were really sluggish next day. As a result, by the time we were ready to do anything, it was midday and raining again. We hadn't realised that it rains every day around midday. If we had known...

We had wanted to do a long hike but this was impossible. Even if we headed off at 6am, we would not be back before midday and it was too dangerous to be hiking the volcano once the cloud came down, as you get lost. We had to make do with a jaunt around the outskirts, see attached foto.

To compensate, we arranged for an 8am Canopy tour for our last day. The 4wheel drive truck took ups up further to the mountains and the national park. We got to see a bit ot the country side as we got lucky with the weather.

WE got to the camp, which is to be their new hotel. It was a beautiful setting, high on the hill with a fabulous view of nautre at her greenest.

We were strapped into our harnesses and helmets and given a brief demo. Basically, there is a wooden platform tied onto a huge tree about 10 feet from the bottom of the tree. There are 14 trees with these platforms on this tour. There is a steel cable going from one of these trees to another. You stand on the platform, get hooked onto the wire and then you zip/speed along the wire from the platform you are on, to the platform of the next tree and so on. Often you are over a 100 feet above ground, treetops, rivers or even waterfalls, strapped to a wire. Great view!!!! You have a very tough garden glove on each hand, with a thick leather bit in the palm area. You put your hand over the wire and use that to brake. We had a private tour. Oh Great! I really didn't think I could do the first one. Throwing myself off nice stable areas into the unknown is not one of my talents. The guide telling all these things to remember and I am thinking how are I going to remember these. But I went and rammed the next tree, as I couldn't break. However I then got too good at braking and for the next few wires I stopped a little too far away from the platform and had to haul myself to it. But I eventually got the hang of it and we had a great few hours skimming over the treetops and rivers. Robert seemed to take it all in his stride, even though he has a fear of heights and gets this weird thing where he wants to jump off. Hmm maybe that´s why he liked it.

The guides were brilliant and chatty and said they liked it when the group was small, as they got a chance to talk and not have to rush everyone through as often they will have 2 groups of 20. The final Piece de resistance was the tarzan swing... I could have resisted... Again we were harnessed to this rope, hung off this tree. We then had to jump off this platform and swing. However, there was a bit of a drop once you came off the platform AND I hate it when my stomach comes up to my mouth. But it was ok. The drop looked a hell of a lot worse than it was. So we did it again.

We rushed lunch and strode up to cafe ruiz for our Coffee plantation tour. They put on a tour for us again a private one but didnt charge us extra. Carlos was our guide. Wow what a guide. He was so knowledgeable and just so lovely with superb English. He started coming to the plantation when he was 10 and has been here 25 years. This was before there were laws against underage unemployment.

The plantation is owned my Senor Ruiz, a genteel 86 year old. The coffee season lasts 6 months, as each bean is hand picked and only when ripe. The local Indigenous tribe come every year to do this. The work is hard but pays relatively well. Carlos started with coffee bean picking, now gives tours and generally works at each thing around the plantation except picking. He gave us a good quote too. In Boquette, they call Nescafe, No es cafe. Made us laugh!!

I learned so much about Coffee. We even got to meet Senor Ruiz. He is such a lovely man and was so welcoming. He was testing out his new air rifle (he used to hunt but his wife wanted him to stop so...) and was bemonaing the fact that it was crap, as it was made in China. We had a good chat about things made in China and he explained a little about bean quality and the emblem on his companies bags. All in all, we spent 3.5 hours there and even got a little bag with some goodies. We both loved the tour and it was a highlight of the whole trip to Panama and really opened our eyes. Who would have thought.

Onward to Panama, to sea or not to sea

2008-05-14T20:10:00.006+01:00

06May
Whilst I was having my Spanish lesson at 8am, this chap (William) came up and asked to speak to me later about Salsa. So when I finished, I chatted to him. He had overheard me asking reception about salsa classes. So he has offered to take me out tonight to teach me salsa. I was a little wary but he seemed really sweet. Later I searched for a bank to use my emergency credit card. Couldn't find it but did a little shopping, sight seeing along the way.
I met the captain of the boat I am to sail in. He was in the area when I rang. He collected a pup that he was going to bring on board and then to the boat. The boat was ok and he explained the set up. There were 3 Israelis there too. They had yet to decide.

At 8pm I met William and he had his uncle Raphael as well. Both of them are from Bucaramanga, which I had passed through a few days ago. They are both owners of their own companies and sell, market their wares throughout Colombia. It is only in the past 7/8 years that they have been able to travel. Before that, it was not safe to travel due to kidnappings and guerrilla activity. But now, travel is pretty safe. William is married with 2 kids but adores salsa. We went to dinner, then to Donde Fidel, which is THE salsa place to go in Cartagena. It has great fots. I had been there a few days ago for a drink one afternoon. However as it was not the weekend, there were very few people. Raphael left about 10 and William tried to show me salsa steps using his hands on the table. Then we tried to salsa, when a few other people got up to dance. It was nice and I got the 4 time salsa pretty easy. The 6 time, well lets just say there is a bit more work. We left there about 11.30 and hit another place nearer the hotel which is the second best place to go. That was a lovely place too.
07 May.
Woke up exhausted. Was yawning all the way through my Spanish class at 8am and it was hard to take it in. Breakfasted at the cafe negro, then went in search of a swim suit and a bank. Well tried my card in 3 banks. One didn't do cards, one did but didn't have the machine for my type. The 3rd let me know that my second emergency card doesn't work. How crap is that. One very nasty mail needs to be written to mastercard and John Lewis.
I met William and Raphael for dinner again but was too exhausted to go to salsa. I packed and went to sleep.
08 May.
I came down to the hotel lobby, to find a message had been left from the Irish guy that was to sail on the same boat. We agreed to share a taxi to the boat. He is called Eddy from Derry, N. Ireland. We then met Chris from near Hemel Hempstead, England, 2 Argentinians, Jerimiah and Ischermo from Buenos Aires and a Brazilian called Jose from Sao Paulo. The crew consisted of Lucho (el Capitaine: Colombian via Chile), his girlfriend Johanna (Colombian), and the first mate, Leo (Argentinian). we had to wait for hours to sort documentation out but eventually sailed around 4.30pm. oh yea, Lulu, the pup and Matteo, this split personality dog, who Lucho had got 3 days earlier to bring to his dad who had recently lost his own dog. Nice labrador but I think he had been abused in his job as a security job. He loved Leo but veered between being friendly or just barking the hell at anyone who passed him on the boat.

I have never been seasick but I was this first night. I was feeling a little queasy but was ok until I went down to the cabin when the heat and the fumes got to me. Oh boy within 5 minutes, I had to rush up and get sick over the edge. I was the first but most of the rest of the guests followed suit either that night or next day. I was ok though once I got sick. The sailing was a bit rough as there were lots of high waves. At about 1am I went on deck. Matteo was near the back of the roof of the cabin. He was exhausted and his poor legs were trembling. I dont think he had sat or lay down for 5 hours. I doubt the dog was ever on a boat, as he was incredibly nervous. I stood there for maybe 45 min just holding him and stopping him from sliding. Eventually I got him up on the roof on top of some covering, which allowed him to rest. He was so scared he didn't bark at all. I felt so sorry for him. He has been thrown into such a different, scary, unbalanced world and god knows what he had before.

We had 2.5 days of sailing continuously. The captain slept for most of the first 2 days, as he caught this bug. I then got the bug, as did his girlfriend and Jose. The others escaped. So the seasick stopped but the sickness began, as did the coughing, the fever, associated headache and the exhaustion. GREAT!! What a start. Except Lucho and his girlfriend got the best bed on the boat. I had a little corner, which was on the side of the boat. It was an oven, especially as the seating I was lying on was plastic or leather. Either way it made me sweat like a pig. So woke up dehydrated and feverish every few hours. I tried to sleep outside but then got too cold which gave me a cold on top of the bug. I tried the floor and that was not too bad one evening but I got moved to a better place but that was only one evening. The rest of the time I had my little oven.

Jose didn't fare much better and he was a fair bit bigger than I. On the second morning, we had the most fab company. A school of about 10 dolphins swam with the boat for about 30 mins. They were so beautiful. That was such a special moment. They were just having so much fun jumping in and out of the water.

After 2.5 days we arrived in the San Blas islands. We anchored off this uninhabited little island. It was just beautiful. Leo took us over in the little dingy and the second day I swam over and back. Matteo loved being on the island and was a different dog not snarling at anyone. He loved it there. We stayed 2 days there, I didn't feel like snorkeling, as my breathing was a bit impeded with coughing but apparently it was nice. Us guests, entertained ourselves by sleeping when we could, a bit of sunbathing, chatting and having a few rum and cokes in the evenings. Eddy had a guitar so played that too which was nice. Most nights we had food cooked for us and some lunch times. but other times, we had to fend for ourselves. It was a bit irratic. Leo was fab and tried his best but he had too much to do and seemed to do most things even when Lucho got better.
There was no shower just plastic bottles of water to wash off the salt so I think we are pretty smelly and my hair is in a right state.

We had a nice few days, then went onto another beautiful island but this had a restaurant and a few houses. Some Kuna came out in their canoes to sell us their wares, mostly molas which are a type of embroidery on cloth. Sometimes these were just squares or they were on shirts etc. Many were very beautiful. The kuna Yale are the most autonomous indigenous people in Central and South America. They self rule and no one is allowed own property on the San Blas Islands, except them. They have managed to keep their traditions intact despite exposure over the centuries to foreign influences and many of the women still wear the traditional cloths which of course includes embroidered shirts. They also were lots of rings of coloured beads from their ankles to their knees. They are a pretty special people.

13May
The last day we again sailed most of the evening. Didn't get much sleep again. but we landed in Portobelo, a nice enough town and we said goodbye to the crew and to Jose who was going to take his motorbike to the nearest hostel and sleep before continuing. the rest of us 5 waited for the bus to colon and then onwards to Panama city. Jeremiah went off and then there were 4. We went to a hostel and then to dinner. Getting to bed was such bliss for us all. Although we all felt we were still on the boat.

14May
We moved to a really nice hostel, called Luna Castle today, pretty cool. . We lost Ishermo, so now we are 3. Eddy had to do some things. So Chris and I went to a mall with Ryan, this mad Canadian and Tio a Belgian who sounds English. Ryan and Tio kept us entertained throughout our walk in the mall. Ryan was on the look out for a Panamanian girl to date, as it is his last night in Panama. He thinks Latin girls are nicer than white girls. He was so entertaining. Tio and he make a good team. The mall was like any you would find in Europe or more so America. I ended up having a cinnabon danish and a shake. oh well...

We whiled away the rest of the evening waiting for a girl that Ryan met in a shop and arranged to meet. She didn't turn up. I can't believe he was surprised. She tried to get him to buy her a 7 dollar ring and they hadn't even had a date yet.

Cartagena, the new love of my life.

2008-05-08T16:26:00.002+01:00

29April
Next morning Nikola was in fine fettle. I think a lot of his problem was dehydration. Anyway we explored Giron for a few hours, Giron is a a town of 45000 but with a beautiful old part separate from the rest, that has a village feel. We had a nice breakfast and enjoyed a walk around the lovely village. All the buildings are whitewashed. The streets were clean. Inside shops and the hotel etc. everything was clean and painted and well kept. Shelves were straight, with displayed neatly and imaginatively. It was just such a pretty village. Before long, it was time to get the bus back to Bucaramanga for the next destination. San Gil
A few hours later we were in San Gil, searching for the bus to Baricharia. Again another small village of 4000. Oh my god, if I thought Giron was beautiful, Baricharia was even more striking. The LP describes the village "as the kind of town that Hollywood filmmakers dream about." That is a very apt description of Baricharia. We found a lovely hotel with an open courtyard inside the hotel. The owners and staff of the hotel were just such lovely people. We walked around the village for a few hours, admiring the beautiful old church with its huge crooked beams and its simple but beautiful decor. Each street had something to please the eye. Some lovely shops with pastries to make the mouth water, or handicrafts to catch the eye. Add to that the friendliness of the people and you have something quite enchanting. Nikola and I sat on several occasions just on the steps or on a bench in the park watching the world go by or chatting. There wasn't much else to do. The internet didn't work. There was an internet cafe but... So of course we got to know each other a little.

Now Nikola is an interesting chap, with some odd ideas but none the less very strong ideas... He is 7 years older than I and a maths professor in a Canadian university. He is married with one daughter whom he lives with in Canada. He is trying to improve his English talking with me, as he struggled when he first came there from Greece. He can be really lovely to me but sometimes he is pretty off with the locals and does not believe in saying please. He is very much a macho man. So this doesn't sit so well with me. He goes hunting and and owns a property in the middle of the forest in Canada and Greece and much prefers being alone than with people. Although can be very sociable, in the right company. However, he is very intelligent, has a good sense of humour and is interesting to talk to. We are quite honest with each other and I have told him I think he can be arrogant, stubborn etc. He says his wife feels the same. So I think I have a lot in common with his wife. I think she must be a saint sometimes as there are times I would have killed him if I was her. I would like to meet her, though as she is French and a lecturer in French grammar and is rather gifted at languages. To be fair his good points often outbalance the bad. He listens to the criticism he receives. As he said himself, he is trying to find himself and he is trying to change his bad habits. We make odd but companiable travelmates.

30AprilWe had a nice breakfast in the local panateria (bakery/cafe). We asked a few people where the old Spanish trail was, to go to a village(Guane), recommended by LP. We followed the trail. A few times we had our doubts if we were on the right path but carried on. It was a lovely stone trail laid in 1864, according to the stone signs at the start of the path. The views were lovely and Nikola was in his element. It was a bit tiring though, as the stones were uneven and it was very hot. After about a 2.5 hour trek, we arrived in this ancient village. On the way into the village we passed the odd tiny house and its farm, with chickens, sheep and goats etc. Roast chickenFinally he got his roast chicken. oh my god.

01 MaySo we have to drag ourselves away from this idyll. We had a last walk around, breakfasted, packed, then caught the bus to San Gil. Nikola was lucky, his bus left 30 minutes after our arrival for Bogota and would take him 7 hours. Mine was about 6 hours later taking 16 hours. So I had to occupy myself watching X-Men II in Spanish, although watching Hugh Jackman in any language is good. I read a little watched another movie being shown on the communal tv.

02 MayLunch time I arrived in Cartagena, I got a bus from the bus station to what I thought was the street near Casa Viena, a hostel recommended in Lonely Planet. I then had to get taxi to Casa Viena, as I had no clue where I was, as the map in the LP doesn't have most of the street names and I was tired of walking with a ruddy big rucksack etc. I ended up being put into a room with some guy. That was all that was left but it was 15000 so not so bad. I didn't care, I went straight to bed for a few hours, as exhausted. I went in search of food later in the evening and found a nice restaurant locally. I didn't want to walk around, as it seemed quite a dodgy area. Later the guy came in. I never got to know his name. He barely said a few words but was polite and was only in the room for a short while. I think he speaks spanish. About 4 in the morning he returned. He must have been drunk, because when I woke up he was asleep and still had his shoes on.

03 MayHad to move hotels, as they had someone coming in. A stroke of luck really, as I am now in a much friendlier, cleaner and cosier place with a room by myself and a bathroom ensuite, all for 5000 Pesos more. Result!! I had a fab breakfast in this lovely cafe (Gato Negro) owned by a German woman who moved here a year ago. A large bowl of fresh fruit, pineapple juice and tea, all for 5000. I took some notes from Casa Viena on tours etc, then moved hotels. This took ages so it was lunchtime before I got to explore Cartagena.

I wandered to the old town in search of a Vegetarian restaurant, a la Lonely Planet. No sign of it. No Surprise. Found another lovely one called La mullata. Had a great typical Colombian dish. Soup containing 3 types of potatoes and chicken. The chicken tasted so good, like chicken from my childhood. I walked for hours, stopping at the odd square to take in the atmosphere and to rest. There are some lovely squares usually with a church and or some government buildings. The largest square, Plaza Aduana, was the square where all the military marched in front of goverment officials etc. in days gone by. Now it is the gathering point for the local tourist transport. Lovely old open carriages and their horses. I like watching these go by. The drivers of these don't hassle you but just gather in their spot. Not so, the taxi drivers who continuously hoot at you and call taxi to you even though it is perfectly obvious you are walking quite adequately on your own or staring at some window or building or have already ignored or said no to several other taxis just in front of him. During the heat of the day, I ventured into Parque Bolivar. This is the most beautiful one. It has some gorgeous tall trees cooling the air and giving shade & colour. A couple of water fountains contribute to the air of coolness, making it the most pleasant place to sit in the city. It is surrounded on all sides by impressive mansions or museums. The museum of gold, the palace of the inquisition, now a museum, containing the torture implements used during the inquisition. Yes they got here too. An amazing troupe of dancers and drummers, numbering about 12, entertained the parque´s occupants. If I was Andrew Lloyd Webber, I would be signing them up. It was sort of an African drum rhythm and the dancing was a mixture of African tribal dance and salsa. It was well practiced and coordinated.

Towards the evening, I went back to the hotel and at reception, this girl asked if I had been to Brazil. Amazingly enough it was the girl (Marili) I had spoken to in Preya di Pipa, a friend of Aartys. She had been the only one of the South Africans, I had had a chance to talk to and she had been very nice then. The bizarre thing was she was in Jericoacoara for a week, the same time I was and we had not bumped into each other. Considering I had bumped into everyone else made it even more unbelievable. We went to a restaurant on one of the main squares and swapped stories. We swapped many thoughts on travelling as lone females. Both of us felt wary about walking on the streets, near our hotel after dark but felt perfectly safe in the old town.

We also discussed the attention we got, albeit not too bad and how many women here dress very provocatively. She told me about 2 Norwegian guys, she had met, who had met some Colombian girls and after they had slept with them, the girls demanded money. The boys were so confused that they paid up but it made them very wary about fraternising with the locals again. Apparently some girls here are prostitutes but it is hard to tell, as so many dress with very tight tops and very short shorts or skirts. However, some girls, whilst not prostitutes per se, go with gringos and expect everything to be paid for them or even demand money after they sleep with them. This surprised me. I had thought it was mostly females like us gringas that had problems but I guess the guys do too.

Later we went back to continue our chat at the hotel and on the terrace met an English girl called Callie. We had a lot in common, she is just a year younger than I and is on a secondment from her bank job and is travelling for a year. She mentioned that I was quite a strong person like her. OR maybe she even used the word dominant. I found that strange as I had not said very much and had just let her and Marili talk. I find it so odd. Some people think I am very strong when they meet me and others find me under confident. How confusing is that. I find this bewildering. How people can see such different sides to my personality but rarely the full picture. Unfortunately I had to bid farewell to Marili, as she was leaving for Costa Rica at 8.30 next morning. But we exchanged email addresses and hope to meet in Costa rica or Nicaragua in the next month or so. She was supposed to sail to Panama but as she is South African, she found out she would have to wait 3 weeks for approval to go there. There was no time for that, so she is skipping Panama. 04May: Breakfasted at the Gato Negro again. Ok so I can be a creature of habit... but the food, staff and venue are so nice and with my dietary limitations is perfect.

Back to the old town to continue my exploration. I thought, as it was Sunday it would be busy but it was quieter than yesterday. This meant it was easier to get some fotos without people in them or at least not so many or so many cars. I was in Plaza Pedro Clover. Pedro was a priest, who ministered to the slaves, as best he could and the square and church were named in honour of him and his work. There is a life sized statue of him and one of his parishioners. There are also many lovely wrought iron sculptures there, e.g. 2 characters playing chess etc.. And many pigeons. And where there are pigeons, there is a man selling seeds for the birds. It is nice to see that they haven't stopped this here, as they have in Leicester square in London. It was nice to watch the parents with their kids and the kids reactions to the birds. Although, one little brat was chasing the birds trying to kick them. I was pleased to see the birdseed seller tell the kid off. I found myself absent mindedly looking at the pigeons and seeing a pattern to their behaviour. er as you do... I noticed the males plumping up their feathers around their necks and chests, following rapidly behind a female, equally rapid, at escaping their attentions. It was such a merry dance. The male circling the female, bowing to her when in front of her or trying to jump her when behind. Hmmm

I was really tired after my late night, so returned to the Marlin for a wee siesta, only to return to the old town about 6pm, trawling the streets in search of a nice restaurant, that was not exorbitantly expensive but posh enough to satisfy my yearnings for something more upmarket, than the places I have been to for most of the last few weeks. I really do like nice restaurants and nice food. I like street food and I like the local restaurants and sometimes, I find a cheap restaurant that serve food, that rivals and exceeds other restaurants in a far higher price or market bracket. But I like to have a nice venue with nice music etc every now and then. The girl can´t help it. As one person put it... I have champagne tastes and beer money.

I settled on this empty but oh so tastefully decorated Spanish restaurant. I had gazpacho followed by garlic mushrooms and Jamon Serrano, washed down with a delicious fruit juice made from a red berry, that here is called Moro. Oh it was nice. I was satiated. I had a long chat with one of the chefs (Miguel), who wanted to practice speaking English. He is studying at the local university but doesn't get much chance to speak English. He helped me a with some Spanish words too.
I wandered into Plaza St Domingo, another lovely square, with a selection of outdoor restaurants and the dance troupe was energetically performing again, in front of the steep walls of the St Domingo church. I was seduced by the rhythms and remained for a while to watch. The place was full of late evening diners and mellow lighting. I read til past midnight. I had no choice, as a group of Americans, an English chap and an Irish girl were partying animatedly, in the common area near my room and one young american girl excelled in volume with a voice that was hard to ignore.

05May I was awoken at 6.30 AM, by the sweet dulcet tones of my american friend from last night, announcing to the world that "I love you and I can feel the aircon..." Dragging myself away from murderous thoughts, I tried to return to sleep but could still hear her and her colleague through the walls of about 4 other rooms. I got up. After breakfast at the Gato Negro, this time, muesli and yogurt. Lovely! I returned to the Marlin for my 11am appointment with my Spanish teacher to be, Alfredo, a very nice chap. He gave me a run down of the price etc. and agreed to meet at 2pm. I had a quick stab at the internet to check mail and to find the panama consulate here, as well as visa info for Panama. Looks like I am ok. I think it is only South Africans that have to get authorisation to enter. Thats a relief.

I had lunch in this tiny Venezuelan place, which charged me 4000 (1.30GBP) for a delicious thirst quenching passion fruit juice with a rice, beans, salad and curried drumstick combo. Bargain! That warrants a revisit.Between, 2 & 4pm, Alfredo coached me in pronunciation, present tense of various verbs and sentence construction. He catered to my level brilliantly. I have picked up a few words, as many resemble French or I have come across them in my phrasebook etc. or through my translations of Esteban´s Spanish mails to me. Tx Esteban. Those 2 hrs were tough. I have not been taught anything like that for a lonnnngggg time. I had to take a half hours lie down.

I continued my exploration, in the old town but in an area, I have not been since the 2nd day. It was still quiet, as it is a bank holiday. I sauntered around, just enjoying the streets and old buildings. At times I feel I have walked into a movie set, to be removed any minute. At other times I feel I am in what I think New Orleans would look like. Most of the houses and mansions have at least one balcony if not more. Some of the houses don't have glass in the windows, many have beautiful iron fencing over the windows, others have carved wood fencing. The fencing keeps out anything living but lets the air in. There are shutters to keep out the light or rain or for privacy. Many of the houses are well kept but there are many that could do with some loving care and attention. I saw a beautiful mansion I would not mind having. A 3 storey classical beauty, just missing a balcony on the 1st floor but with large wooden doors and huge windows, under lovely arches. Something to think about.

I sat in an old square, taking in my surroundings. Some locals women chewing the fat, a taxi driver swapping stories with a policeman and the local restauranteur. And of course the predators in their yellow armour, circling incessantly, their heads jutting out, eyes peeled, searching for quarry, poised, ready for the pounce. The type of prey doesn't matter, Colombian or gringo. Money is money. In between an array of fine horses with their carriages always painted red, regally trotting by. Mostly with couples or families, the driver pointing out the tourist attraction. My stomach announced the time, as all that observation had worked up an appetite. So I had a fancy kebab and a lovely coffee with Cardamom and cloves, in the Zebra cafe, facing the square. Whilst eating, I chatted with 2 French girls, I had seen earlier in the Gato Negro. Small world.

By the time I was ready to leave, darkness had descended. The city is even more beautiful at night. The street and house lamps used, are old, so give a lovely mellow light. Some of the streets are quiet. One little square had some bars around it with piped jazz music. There were many houses along the stret with beautiful balconis dripping with flowers. I was transported to New Orleans, maybe the movie "Angel Heart". or perhaps "The Big Easy". Most of the time you hear salsa music or similar drifting from someone's house or restaurant or bar. Everywhere in Venezuela and Colombia, salsa is in the air. It gives a really nice vibe and musical backdrop to my walks. It feels like a sound track. Each day I become more enamoured with Cartagena´s beauty. I am falling in love with Cartagena.