Welcome to the Jungle - Part I

I knew Costa Rica had plenty to offer an adventurous mind such as myself from what I heard on the road but prior to crossing the border and going straight to San Jose, the capital city just about centered in the country, I had done, I would say, close to zero amount of research on the region.

I spent a few days in San Jose to sort through the multitude of sights and activities that are somehow packed into such a small country:  zip lining, surfing, scuba diving, white water rafting, jungle treks, volcano treks, cloud forests, ... the list goes on.  With some detailed planning and timely effort, a well built itinerary could be put together to neatly encompass all the major attractions with one well coordinated swoop.  But who wants to do that especially since it would take time, time I felt could be better spent practicing my Spanish in late night bars.  So after talking to a few experienced Costa Rican travelers, the sentence 'One of the most intensely diverse jungles in the world is down south.' struck my fancy.  Maybe it's because I had recently spent so much time on the beach that my evolutionary DNA was yearning me forward, to move from the sea farther inland, to the canopied shade of the forest, where man was first born.  But that is getting a bit to existential for this blog and well beyond its intended scope.  I will stick with what works:  funny human interactions with insects, animals, mother nature, or other humans who may or may not be living an altered existence, ie. drunk or high.  There is plenty of this below.

So, I packed up some essentials, left the rest of my earthly possessions in a 'secure' storage room at my hostel in San Jose not knowing exactly when I would return, headed out with some cryptic notes, and hoping I remembered at least a quarter of the info people had told me.

First stop - Manuel Antonio National Park
The slide show below has some of my favorite photos from Manuel Antonio.  Just wanted to make something easily viewable so if folks don't have time to look at all the Costa Rica photos on the right, you can at least get a glimpse of how amazing this park is.

Slideshow of Manuel Antonio NP

Manuel Antonio town is on the Pacific side of the country a bit over midway down the coast.  The national park starts where the town's beachside road ends.  Due to its ease of access, abundant wildlife that can be spotted from the main jeep trail cutting through the park, and secluded, sparsely populated white sand beaches it is a must see for most travelers to the country.  Before I delve into the park itself, just a quick quip about my time in Manuel Antonio town.

While trying to make sense of my notes on where it was suggested I stay, the bus driver randomly dropped me off across from a picturesque 5 tiered hostel positioned at the top of the large hill that leads into the town itself.  It had endless views down the southern coast and a pool at its lowest tier to soak in during the hot, balmy days.  So much for my notes. This place was great plus I didn't feel like trudging my bag up and down the hilly area blindly searching for some other hostel of whose name I wasn't exactly sure anyway.

Lifeguard on duty.  No tipping.

One of the tiers was a nice social area where most of us who were staying there would commune in during our down time.  One afternoon around 3 pm, two guys from L.A./Mexico (was never really clear which exactly) stumble in completely drunk wearing just swim trunks with a fresh sixer of Bamboo, pre-mixed rum & coke in a can, one already popped open to drink.  Not sure how they found the steps leading down to us or much less made it down them safely but here they stood.  Two able bodied specimens representing the future of America ... or maybe Mexico.

After scanning their immediate surroundings which included myself on the couch reading, an older gentleman cooking, 2 girls on the other couch chatting privately, and a brother and sister at a table doing their spanish lesson.  They obviously only had one choice.  They made their way toward the two girls in what they probably thought was a bee-line (interesting origin of the term 'bee-line' for those who want extra credit on the test when this is over), but in reality their path more closely resembled the contrail of an acrobatic airplane at an air show.  As the rest of us covertly perked our ears to hear the ensuing conversation, the guys started in with loud introductions.  One was Jesus, pronounced 'hey-soos' of course, but he said if you called him 'geez-us' that was ok too.  I eventually called him Richard which he seemed to respond to as well.

Anyway, these guys, after finally reaching their destination a few feet in front of the girls, courteously apologized for their state of apparent drunkenness at 3 in the afternoon but hey, they were on vacation.  After the normal small talk, the conversation quickly shifted to what great marriage prospects they would make to which the girls played along with for a while.  The guys' logic being if we get married then we have to consummate the marriage.  At least their mom raised them right.

Obviously it was an entertaining situation but the thing that struck me as the funniest was as these guys were discussing their vows hoping to consummate the marriage sooner than later, the three-legged mutt who lived at the hostel named Lucky, had trotted just behind these guys, set up camp, and began to lick itself.  I'm not sure if the girls or anyone else noticed this but when two guys are trying to seriously court two women to the best of their abilities, if you throw a three-legged dog licking itself into the picture it raises the entire comedic level at least ten fold.  Not sure if that makes me clever or odd or some combination of the two there of but hopefully if at least one other person gets a laugh out of that, I will feel satisfied with my work.

As you can imagine, the rest of us eventually joined in the conversation and in the drinking of spirits in the early afternoon.  The two guys shared the rest of their Bamboo as we shared the few beer bottles we pooled together from our refrigerator, we celebrated two Costa Rican weddings (I was best man for one and ring bearer for the other), the guys passed out around 8 pm to the relief of their brides, and the rest of us headed to Quepos, the nearby 'party' town, to have a night out.  As you can see from the picture, pickings were slim in Quepos but it was an evening well spent:

The Jay Bird trying out newly acquired ambush skills.

Now back to the point of this posting, the jungle.

Manuel Antonio NP, as I said earlier, has one main jeep trail running through its center with a few small single track trails leading to secluded beaches.  Guides could be had for $20 but it was just as easy to follow a group that had a guide and listen in for free.  I'm no dummy.

The scene of quiet groups interspersed down the long hall-like trail focusing their attention intently at a particular piece of underbrush which their guide had pointed out reminded me of something more akin to an art gallery with small groups spread about looking at abstract paintings while an art critic explains what they are looking at.  The onlookers look at the piece long enough until they finally 'get it' and see the object of the painting.  Or like one of those stereogram paintings at the mall, of which I could never do, where you are supposed to relax your eyes and look through the image until it popped out right in front of you  Well, you would be amazed how close you could be to a  10 in. stick bug, while knowing exactly what you are looking for and even where it is, without spotting it, before it finally pops out at you.

The pictures and slideshow share the bulk of the experience better than I could explain in words.  So I will let them do the rest of the talking and finish up Part II.

Aside from visiting the park, I spent one long morning getting pummeled by 8 - 10 ft waves just trying to survive the paddle out to surf a few of the smaller ones.  I also ended up hiking through someone's private pasture with the brother and sister from the hostel on our way to find a secluded beach.   We found out it was private because like love, being pissed-off seems to also be an international language that is easily understood no matter what phrases someone is yelling at you.

Cheers,
JB

Shark Week and a Half on the Bay Islands

When I read what I had written for this post it seemed a bit dull at parts so I decided to take out all the dribble that connects the story and just put down the highlights.  Calling them highlights is actually a bit of a stretch.  These are just the bits that make the trip interesting.

Just a quick set up.  I did return back to Roatan to pick up where I left off after my brief stint back home in the States.  I had some buddies, Frank and Axel, already waiting for me on Utila where we planned to attend Sun Jam Festival and hang out for the next week and a half.  I wrote about Sun Jam in my last post so here is the rest.

A one street town:
Utila is a tiny island comprised of a small airport, backpackers looking for a cheap stay, and one street along the bay that is crammed with dive shops, hostels, restaurants/bars, and churches to save the heathens.  About the only thing going for this street is that it is paved and just wide enough for a small truck and slim pedestrian to pass each other on with some effort.  Luckily there is only one truck on the island however it usually drives down the middle of the road and since it is bigger than a person, it has the right of way meaning pedestrians jump for the concrete ditch.  Aside from the truck though, there are plenty of other vehicles that can maim you just as easily including golf carts, mopeds, dirt bikes, bicycles, tuk-tuks, and peddle powered carts with natural gas tanks dangling loosely off the side as cargo.  It's no UPS but it makes for an interesting finale to a delivery when the the driver is trying to stop his contraption heading down hill with his flip-flops since he has no brakes.

Sand Flies:
There are two gorgeous white sand beaches at each end of town with turquoise water gently lapping the sand and palm trees overhead but to enjoy them you take the risk of getting swarmed by sand flies.  If you are unfamiliar with sand flies, I will explain.  They are about as small as a flea and attack any bare skin available.  We tried insect repellent with mixed results.  We were told to try baby oil and it seemed to help a bit better but after a day on the beach your skin feels like you just went sightseeing at a sand paper factory with all the sand you collect.  They seem to have built up resistance to any type of 'protective' coating you apply and you don't really notice you've been attacked usually until it is too late.  All the sudden you are covered in small red dots.  If you are lucky they just begin to itch in a few days and that lasts for a week or so.  If you are unlucky, you may have some type of allergy to them and get whelps all over your body like our buddy Axel.  The best part about this was that every local we talked to had a different remedy for the bites and when the bites are this bad, you are willing to try anything.  My favorite was when a large Caribbean waitress we had told Axel the best thing is lime juice.  She then got him to take off his shirt in the restaurant and rub juice from a half cut lime all over his upper torso.  He left a generous tip.  Not sure if it helped the bites but it was an entertaining show for us and the rest of the patrons.

Axel enjoying his dessert lime rub down.

Shark Dive:
After getting tired with Utila, which didn't take long, we headed over to Roatan.  Roatan is much larger than Utila.  It takes about 45 minutes to drive from one end to the other.   It is set up to accommodate more of the cruise ship type visitors meaning things are more expensive.  The guys wanted to stay at a swank hotel since we slummed it in Utila.  The swankiest place we could find was about a 3 star with a pool and garden area that welcomed destination weddings.  We tried to crash one for free drinks and food by pretending we were the wedding singers but when we started to sing "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa our guise was up.  On my budget, I wasn't able to help too much for the bill at this place so will probably owe Axel and Frank my first born.  I told them he is probably out there somewhere already and they can fight over who gets weekends.

The hotel is set on a gorgeous white sand beach in West Bay however again it is only suitable if you have genetically modified your DNA to repel sand flies.  The Italian tourists surprisingly have either surpassed America in gene modification or don't care about sand fly bites as long as they look good lying on the beach in there speedos.  But I'm not sure 'look good' and 'speedos' go together.

We talked to the event coordinator at the hotel about renting motorcycles to tour the island.  He advised us heavily against this as being way to dangerous and instead offered up that we should instead go diving with reef sharks.  He convinced us this was the safer option and so we did what any smart person would do and signed up.  Here is the link to a video I put together of our dive:

Roatan Shark Video

(Noah, the next time you go to Hawaii, get your dad to take you shark diving there.  It's much safer because they use a cage...for you, not the sharks;)

Last night of Karaoke:

Night Boating:  Just as dangerous as drunk driving
          but without the jail time

Frank back up dancing to "Like a Virgin"

For our last night before the guys left we decided to head to West End which is the next bay over from West Bay and is a bit rowdier.  As we took the water taxi over there just after sunset, which means its dark and not the best idea, we noticed the power went out on the island...again.We found a Thai restaurant that still had the means to cook and there is nothing more romantic than three men eating a candle lit dinner on a beach.  After a couple of hours, power finally came back on and we went to the bar next door that appeared to be setting up karaoke.  Figured we could use some practice since our wedding singing debut wasn't that hot.  So after we built up our liquid courage, we hit the stage with 'Pour some sugar on me'.  I think at one point we had back up dancers on stage with us or maybe we were backup dancers.  Can't remember.  We sang a few more songs though out the evening,  made a few more friends and thanks to Frank's persistence, were awarded the last song of the night.  Frank was set on singing 'Push It' again but once we started into it either we still needed more practice or they were giving free money away in the street because everyone turned and abruptly left the bar.  After the song was over we also left the now empty bar and followed the crowd to the 'late' night bar to drink our sorrows away which didn't take long.


As the night progressed, we were almost kicked out of the country for bringing in an invasive species that has been banned from the island.  It has a bite that stings longer than the sand fly's and can leave you scarred for life.  A rare photo of this elusive species was taken and I posted it below so it can be avoided at all costs and reported to the authorities if seen in your area.  It is the land shark:

Land shark attack on local girl's calf.

Post Script:
Luckily for the country and probably me, the guys left the next morning after their week and a half visit.  I had intended to spend a few months in Utila or Roatan working at a dive shop but just really wasn't that into the islands here.  The diving is cheap but it doesn't make up for the random power outages, bad food, cramped streets, and sand flies.  So after much internal debate I decided to take the 3 day bus trip, which I wasn't looking forward to, down to Costa Rica.

I had to spend the night again in everyone's favorite Honduran city to pronounce, Tegucigulpa.  This time I was able to stay in a bit nicer accommodations than last time I passed through here however the Hondurans were sure to foil any relaxing time I was to spend in their capital.  As it happened the Honduran Welcoming Committee that was hanging out in the alley below my window thought the 80's music they were blasting from their blown car speakers would sooth me to sleep when in actuality it only hastened my need to get out of this country or at least the hotel.  But the HWC is always one step ahead of the tourists.  When I finally had enough and was going to step outside for a bit, the power went out.  The good thing about this is when the power goes out in the city it effects all the street lights which are helpful when walking in the dark but it doesn't effect the loud music coming from your car.  It actually intensifies it as there is no other noise to help drown it out.  I was still determined to leave the hotel but conveniently learned that the electronic locks on the hotel doors that keep bad people out also keep guests locked in when they have no power.  I am sure there is a plan in the event of a fire when there is no power but I was unable to call the fire inspector since the phones didn't work either.

Aside from that, getting through Honduras was uneventful.  I passed through Nicaragua staying overnight in the capital, Managua without issue.  I decided to forego any sightseeing in Nicaragua not because it isn't worth it but because I had spent a week and a half there already for a friend's wedding a couple years ago and figured I could not out do that trip especially by myself.

Once across the border in Costa Rica things felt different in a good way.  I headed straight to San Jose, which is the capital in the middle of the country, to take a few days and figure out my plan for things to see and do here since I had no plan of what I was going to do once I arrived except get to San Jose.  I am currently down south doing some treks through the jungle then plan to head back up north to do some diving and hopefully stay put for a while on the Pacific side.

Hope everyone is well and I hope to have some great photos from the jungle for my next post.
It's always good to hear from you.

Cheers,
Jay

Sun Jam - back to reality....of sorts

It's been a while but I am back on the road.  Just sending out a write up of a festival I went to in Honduras with two buddies shortly after I returned there.  I am currently in San Jose, Costa Rica still getting somethings together and will send out a more complete update soon but figured you could enjoy this in the mean time. 

Sun Jam is an annual festival held the first weekend of August on a 3 acre, deserted private island called Water Key located six miles from Utila, Honduras.   No cameras were allowed on the island so I couldn't take any pictures which is probably better for everyone there. 


 This is one account:

Obviously the only way to get there is by boat.  It is a tiny island.  We were warned to steer clear of the local fishing boats as they are accident prone especially at night since they usually have no lights along with the fact that the boat captains maybe drunk, high, hallucinating, or a combination of any there of. 

As it turned out, however, the only boats we see available to take us to Water Key are the aforementioned fishing boats.  So we jump into the 35' by 5' single engine boat packing in alongside with as many other party goers that will fit and are willing to pay the $5 'ferry' fee.  I don't look around for any official insignia that states the maximum occupancy of the boat because a) I am sure there isn't one and b) I am sure we are well over it.  Honestly, I wouldn't trust this boat to save me in my own bath tub and can easily see why Hondurans aren't known for their sea-fairing capability but hey, we couldn't miss the party.

None of us passengers are sure how far it is to the key.  We just assume it is somewhere out there, in the direction the boat is heading.  As we got out of the bay into choppier waters, the fishing boat teeters side to side even more like some misaligned see-saw.  I scan my immediate surroundings for any type of life saving device.  I don't notice anything that will help me stay afloat but do notice that a few others have tents, bags, blankets, etc... for the all night festival and began to second guess my choice of only having the festival minimum - shirt, shorts, flip flops, money, and my license in the event my body had to be identified the next morning (safety first).

The sun is already setting as the boat continues to slosh through the waves.  We keep passing little islands thinking that the next one will be it.  Then finally we hear something in the distance like a dull heartbeat.  We can't tell exactly where it is coming from but it is a good sign that there is life out there floating in the abyss in front of us.  The boat begins to point directly at the black silhouette of one of the little islands now and the pulse loudens a bit.  We can see intermittent lights twirling out of the darkness acting like beacons to our boat.  

As we approach, there is a large barge beached in front of us and as we round its stern the festival's sound hits us full force and welcomes us to the shore.  Our captain drives his boat straight onto shore and the sand gently hugs the bottom of the boat before bringing it to an abrupt halt.  We jump off the bow into the shallow waters ready to invade the island like some sort rag tag seal team.  I'm not sure we would be very well suited to take over anything except for the bar.  I see the barge next to us is there for a reason.  It is loaded with porta-potties in the event there is something you can't handle amongst the shadows of the trees however the gang plank they have jerry-rigged to get on board this thing would make the most hardened pirate think twice about using it.

Once on solid ground we are corralled into the ticket line to pay admission, get checked by security, and told to have a good time.  A few steps passed the entrance and the stage becomes apparent.  It is a full on concert stage nestled between the trees and covered in lights with a mass of people dancing in front of it.  Some have been here since early afternoon.  We turn to look at each other to determine our next move.  From the look on our extremely sober faces it is obvious we need to head directly to whatever booth they have set up that serves alcohol.  It's only 7:30 pm and we have to make it until the next morning.  I am already scouting out places in the sand that look comfortable enough to pass out in.  

We make our way through the dancing mob to the row of tables that represents the bar.  We make the first one a double to try and catch up a little.  When we go back for the second, they are already out of ice but are told more is on the way on one of those reliable fishing boats.  So we are forced to drink warm rum and cokes while a few folks pound some Red Bulls to help them make it through the night. 


After a few more drinks we merge in with the growing crowd in front of the stage.  It's still the same beat but at full intensity.  You can feel it in your chest and can't tell the difference between your own heart beating and the music.  The dj lays different tunes and sounds over the beat to capture the mood of his audience but the pulse never stops.  Talking is pointless.  Just screams from the crowd can be heard. Lights flash on and off on the crowd creating a strobe effect that seems to slow down time and space.  Laser lights shoot out of the stage zapping everyone and making alien shapes in the low hanging branches that act as the ceiling of this outdoor auditorium.  


The time comes for a break.  We venture out beyond the protection of the stage lights into the darkness engulfing the rest of the tiny island.  We let our eyes adjust  and everything in front of us is just a silhouette with the starry night sky as the background.  We can make out little groups of tents scattered here and there.  Hammocks strung between trees.  A few camp fires not too far away with people around them and small embers like fire flies buzzing around their mouths.  After walking in any one direction for no more than 50 yards, being careful not to step on anyone, you come to the edge of the island which is usually a nice sandy beach.  


We have enough fresh air and head back to the source of the music.  We repeat this process and each time we venture beyond the boundary of the lights we see something new.  Fire dancers, people selling food, couples intertwined in the sand, thrill seekers walking on a bed of burning embers and convincing some of us to give it a go as well, drug takers staring at a hermit crab as it carries its home down the beach.  Something for everyone.


Finally after a while we have lost each other and I decide it is time for me to find a place to lay down.  I set out to find a comfortable patch of sand and try to hide from the never-ending beat.  On the edge of the island I lay my back in the sand and move around enough until it adjusts to the contour of my body.  There is a small fallen tree that I use as my pillow and then I shut my eyes.

When they open again I still hear the same beat as before.  It is still dark but you can tell the sun is about to peak over the horizon because the stars are no longer visible.  As the sun rises, clouds shade the sting of the suns first rays for all those weary eyes on the island.  Some people are sitting in circles in the shallow water just off the beach taking it all in.  Some are laying sprawled out in a spot that last night seemed secluded but in the dawn they stand out like a peacock on a hog farm.  And there is still the beat, the pulse.  It seems to be the only thing keeping the small, diminished crowd in front of the stage going.    


I walk around the island to see it in the day light and the aftermath the festival has caused.  Then I sit to watch as the dj announces that this is the final song.  As it ends the crowd screams for an encore.  Once its all finally over, the crowd makes its way to the beach to go back to Utila on the trusty fishing boats that brought us here.  We are told each one is the last back as the locals try to rush us on the boats but I find it more entertaining to sit in the sand and watch the revelers get man-handlded and crammed onto the boats.  Finally there are just a few of us left and one more boat shows up so I decide I should probably jump on this one.  


It's a quiet sunny ride back to Utila.  It is around 9 am and the one street on the island is mixed with the zombies that are getting back from the party making their way to their beds and local islanders who are dressed up and starting their day by heading to church as it is Sunday.  


I am the last one in our trio to get back to the room.  We exchange moaned greetings acknowledging that the 3 of us have all made it back in one piece.  And then I fall into my bed and go to sleep.

The road less traveled....for a reason

Leaving Antigua was tough but I know it is a place I will definitely return to.   So after pushing off my departure day after day, I finally picked a date and bought a bus ticket to get things moving towards La Ceiba, Honduras, the jumping off point to Utila and Roatan.  These are two islands off the coast of Honduras known around the world for their fantastic diving.  Having a look at a map on how to get there, I decided, since I was so close to El Salvador, it would be very easy to cut through the northeast corner of the country and get the El Salvadorian stamp in my passport to add to the collection.  It would only add about half a day to my trip.

Luckily for all of you, I have blazed this path many folks do not take so it should make things easier for ya'll if you choose to follow.  However, I would not recommend following me down this path.   Read on.

Since most people want to go to the west side of El Salvador for the beaches, the ticket agent at the bus station couldn't understand my reason for taking an extended route to get to Honduras.  After a severely long conversation, the conclusion was that the only city I could get to that wasn't on the west coast was the capital, San Salvador.  They told me it was only 1.5 hours past the border which didn't seem too bad. I was picked up at 9 am in Antigua and expected to be in San Salvador in the early afternoon since they said it only takes about 5 hours total to get there.

Arriving in San Salvador around 9 pm that night seemed a bit off schedule especially after the 3 hours of travel time through El Salvador.  For those keeping score that is easily double the above quoted time. On top of that, El Salvador is too cheap or lazy to give any type of entry marking into your passport. I would have to hope and get one on the way out.

I guess in San Salvador space is of the essence as in any large city however here it seems the bus drivers are trained to park as close to the wall of a building as possible when letting passengers off.  So picture a bus parked next to a wall with just enough space to clear their mirror and allow room for one person to squeeze through.  Now dump all the people out of the bus while unloading their luggage from the same side.  Have them find their bags and then try to get out of the way of the others.  I just stood on the opposite side of the bus where there was plenty of room and watched until there was just one old man with a cane left.

After the bus debacle, I was somewhat worried about accommodations in San Salvador since I hadn't looked for anything in advance since I thought I would be getting there in the afternoon and now I was dropped off in a dark street in the middle of the crime stricken capital city being forewarned by Guatemalans to be careful of the banditos in El Salvador.  Luckily there was a hotel right next to the bus station.  It seemed like a pretty decent place and then they showed me the roof top single man's traveller's suite they must have been saving for a guy such as myself.  It was an obvious after-after-after thought to the design of the structure that allowed them to stuff as many people as possible into any nook of the building and more money into their pockets.  Following the inn keeper (not sure if that word is used any more except in the Bible but I wanted to try it out) up a couple flights of stairs, then a labyrinth of steeper stairs/ladders, we ended up on the roof top looking at what appeared to be a door from an abandoned prison with the number 41 painted on it.  Inside, however, was clean with a private shower/toilet and the inn keeper was sure to point out the 10” tv to me, which is why I was charged the exorbitant fee of $12 for the night.  I included a few pictures below to help build the picture in your mind.

Prison block walls with the shower/toilet combo

You may have noticed the shower (open pipe from the ceiling) includes a toilet or visa versa (I have the single shower valve turned on to try and capture the spectacle of gravity acting on water in a still photo for the you, the audience).

Also, since the one and only source of light is outside the shower, when you close the thick vinyl curtain, the shower doubles as a dark room to develop that black and white film you've been holding onto since 1987.  For the particularly astute, you may have asked yourself, “Well the shower seems fine and all but where is the sink?” Good question.  They have solved this issue by placing it outside so it can double as a washeteria shown here:

Outdoor sink with a view

Once settled I went back to the bus station to buy my ticket for the following day to La Ceiba.  Then I found out a funny thing.  There are no busses from San Salvador to La Ceiba.  I first had to go down south through the rest of El Salvador then cut up northeast, to cross into Honduras and spend the night in the town of Tegucigulpa (Yes, it takes some time to learn how to say this much less know where it is).  Then from there I could get to La Ceiba. Fantastic.  I get to see more of El Salvador than I bargained for.

The bus wasn't leaving until noon the next day so I had a few hours to walk around San Salvador in the morning.  I am assuming they don't get too many tourists walking around there since I was stared at like a woman at a Free Mason's convention the entire time.  I did manage to visit the National Palace, the largest church in the city, and the markets. I should have known the markets were a bad idea. No tourists means when one arrives he is swarmed by hawkers trying to sell anything and everything to fresh blood. I haven't had that many women run toward me at one time since....well I've never had that many women run toward me ever.

Back on the bus for another 8 hour work day of sitting.  This bus however came with a built-in shiatsu in the form of a kid repeatedly kicking the back of my seat.  The first kick felt nice but the following 3,146 were annoying.  I counted all the small bruises on my back.

Upon exiting El Salvador to Honduras, I did not get a stamp in my passport either or any mark that would indicate I was there which was the sole purpose of this side trip.  I asked one of the bus attendants and he said “Yes, no stamp” with a smile as if I should be delighted on how easy it is to get in and out of El Salvador.  I slumped back in my chair to the intermittent kicking of my shiatsu.  The only thing I got from El Salvador was this crappy picture at the immigration office of these gentlemen who appear to be eagerly awaiting to open the door and welcome you to their country but in return they just want to offer you a great deal on exchanging some money.  Not sure why it takes thirty of them to do this.

Fight through a mob of money exchangers to get back to the bus (in background) at the border crossing

After the border crossing made it to Teguciculpa and was again dropped off that night on a dark street corner in a large city with no idea where to stay and being forewarned by the El Salvadorians to be careful of the banditos in Honduras.  I did want to stay somewhere cheap and close to a bus station where I could get a bus to La Ceiba.  After trying to convey this to a couple of guys on the street in broken Spanish, one lead me to his taxi, I assumed, since it had a few large numbers in the rear window but looked more like something suitable for destruction derby, after the destruction.  After arriving at a hotel and haggling over the exchange rate as I had no Honduran Limpiera, I was shown to my $16 room with a much nicer private bath with separate toilet and sink along with a large flat screen tv.  Didn't realize $4 could make that much difference.

The one comforting factor when getting off the bus at night in these large cities is that they always have a friendly security guard with a rusty shotgun hung over his shoulder by a sling made of a few shoe strings tied together and a few shells tucked in his belt.  Doubt the shotguns actually work or the guards know how to use them but they are spotted around most of the cities frequently at any shops that make a lot of money such as lumber yards, jewelry shops, or ice cream parlors.

Woke up at 6:00 am the next morning to get the 7:00 am bus heading to La Ceiba. It was a pretty uneventful ride aside from being surprised that you could get carne guisada at a gas station.

We arrived in La Ceiba in the early afternoon with plenty of time for me to catch the 4:00 pm ferry to Utila, my sought after destination.  The ferry is named the Utila Princess which is very regal and appropriate name for a boat.  It's a large enclosed catamaran to protect passengers from spray in rough seas.  However, the rough seas and lack of ventilation also cause passengers to get sea sick which is why I think it was named actually for a princess after a night of binge drinking.  The boat attendant stands at the ready with paper towels and plastic bags for the many victims that were claimed by the drunken princess on our hour ride to Utila.

Finally on Utila, it doesn't take long to know your way around the 2 main streets that intersect at a “T” at the harbor.  It is a little place that caters specifically to divers and backpackers and looks like a lot of fun. I hope to return soon.

Hope everyone is doing well and will post again when I am back on the trail.

City in the clouds

It's been a while since I've posted anything as I have been pretty busy traveling so I'll try to catch ya'll up. I've written two long blogs, this being the first, that get me from Belize to Guatemala, through El Salvador, and finally to Utila and Roatan in Honduras. I actually just got to Roatan last night after spending a day in Utila as I need to head back to Texas for some time to attend to some family matters. I am not sure when or where I will return to pick up my travels, so you have plenty of time to read the long posts and check out all the pictures. I've added all the photos for Guatemala as well as Belize with captions if you haven't viewed them yet.

Last I wrote I was tired of hanging out in Placencia, Belize and so took the ferry-bus-ferry-ferry combo to get out of the country and up the Rio Dulce into Guatemala. Heading up the Rio Dulce starting from Livingston at its mouth is a majestic trip. You pass through tall cliffs covered in a jungle filled with howler monkeys and some of the most poisonous snakes in the world. You pass tiny huts hidden under the canopy of trees at the water's edge where locals use dug out canoes to catch their daily sustenance. Then the river opens up and is speckled with marinas where yachtsmen bring their boats to safely make it through the hurricane season. Some end up dropping anchor for good seeing that they have reached their paradise.

The focal point of the river is the bridge that spans the river at the town of Fronteras. It is the longest bridge in Central America and is a major artery supplying goods across the country. I stayed at a hostel at the base of the bridge opposite the hustling town of Fronteras. It was a welcomed change from Belize in that things were much cheaper and cleaner for the price and the people seemed warmer.

I stayed for a few days to check out the sites, meet up with some other boaters I knew on the river, get a super tight $2 haircut, and figure out where I was going next. I had a few places in mind but after talking to a few other travelers at the hostel I decided to head west through Guatemala City to Antigua.

I've never been so impressed upon entering a town. Antigua is just a short trip from Guatemala City and it sits high in the mountains at the base of a few volcanos which are usually covered in a light mist. It is an old colonial city built in the 16^th century with cobblestone streets lined with one story buildings that are all seamlessly connected broken by the occasional church ruin. The only thing that differentiates the houses is the distinct vertical line where the colors of paint change, sometimes old and tattered while others are freshly painted in a deep hue. The local Mayans still stroll around in their traditional garb and work in the bountiful markets, while tourists and Guatemalans fill in the gaps. On top of that there is a vibrant art scene, trendy, low key bars, international cuisine, and a delightful central park that is great for people watching any time of the day. The photos easily do more justice to the city than any more words I can write.  So make sure to have a look at those.

The only unnerving thing about Antigua are the firecrackers that constantly echo throughout the town. It's always a series of about 100 – 200 black cats and just when you think it is over, one loud boom at the end to cap it off. When I first arrived on Saturday, I thought it was for some sort of celebration. Then hearing them on Sunday before sunrise I thought maybe it was a weekend long celebration. Then hearing them on Monday I finally asked someone what was the occasion and they looked at me a little confused and replied, “The firecrackers could be for anything. A birthday, a wedding, graduation, finishing a long book.” Basically any reason would suffice.

After spending a few days in Antigua, I took a short bus trip to Lake Atitlan which is described by Aldous Huxley as "really too much of a good thing."  Before our bus departed to get us through the mountains to the lake, our bus driver said a little prayer and touched his cross hanging from the rear-view mirror next to a small Mickey Mouse doll and an air freshener in the shape of a marijuana leaf. I wondered if I should feel better about the trip since we would now have this invisible bubble of protection around us or worried that the road was so bad, the driver felt a prayer was necessary for us to make it through safely. It didn't take long to find out that these bus drivers were miracle workers. They could turn a 1.5 lane road into a 3 lane highway for passing around blind corners. When a road was washed out with water still running over it down the cliff, they could somehow drive on water where no road appeared to be. They could dodge boulders and rock slides with ease as if somehow they could see the future. And this was the tourist mini-van bus. The locals take the “Chicken Bus” which is a brightly painted school bus packed to capacity with people, goods, and the occasional chicken. These guys run the buses around the corners almost on two wheels passing us like we were sitting still. I think they must double up on their prayers before they depart.

But once on Lake Antitlan it was all that I expected. An ethereal lake formed in the caldera of an ancient volcano that had long erupted and now smaller volcanos surrounded the edge of the lake with tiny towns scattered along the water's edge. The hostel I wanted to stay in was in the village of Santa Cruz which was only accessible by boat. It was a great place a few steps from the boat dock and served family style dinners each night which was a refreshing change of pace.

After a couple days of hiking, scuba diving, visiting the towns, taking Spanish lessons, reading lake side in the hammock while it rained in the afternoons, I thought I had escaped the excitement of the firecrackers that plagued Antigua however the last morning I was there, while doing my toiletries, I heard an enormous bang on the roof which I thought was going to bring the building down. My first thought was that someone had thrown just the finale firecracker on top of me. After I stopped choking on my toothpaste I went outside to find the culprit. It turned out to be mother nature once more and this trap took years of planning and foresight. She had planted and raised a fine, tall avocado tree just next to the showers. And on this avocado tree hung the largest avocados I have ever seen. The one laying at my feet must have weighed close to a solid pound and fallen 15 ft before it hit the tin roof I was standing under, bounced off and then land on the ground giving the exact result she had patiently been waiting for. I looked up and smiled at the proud tree and went back in to finish up.

I made my way back to Antigua through the mountains not sure how many more days I would stay there but fully enjoying the days that I did.

On the road again

Picking up in San Pedro, once off the boat I was back to my roots as a backpacker and as a backpacker began seeking budget accommodations. I was directed to a place a couple blocks away that was clean, cheap, had a pool, and thanks to advances in technology, shockingly (pun on the way) had warm water showers.  This was a step forward for budget accommodations since my last trip.  Little water heaters installed just prior to the shower head were cheap enough for these places to install to provide one more comfort for the weary traveller.  However installing the correct circuit breakers to deal with these cheap devices was not in the budget.  The problem being if there is any short in the water heater, which I would give a 50/50 chance on, the dirty human beneath it turns into the next test subject for shock therapy in cell block D of the San Pedro Psych Ward.   I stuck with cold showers.

Things did turn around as I noticed that this hotel seemed to only be inhabited by foreign women who liked to lay around the pool and as Lobster Fest was well under way, the main party for the evening was at our hotel as well.  I did get a job with the hotel that evening of picking up people from their hotels in a golf cart to bring them to the party however I didn't read the fine print in the contract that doesn't allow the "designated driver" to do body shots with the passengers.  I was let go but was still allowed to join the party, try my luck at chicken drop bingo, and have some of the much talked about lobster pizza.

 My brief tenure as chauffeur 

Chicken Drop (Sh@t) Bingo:  Fairly self-explanatory

The next day was my cousin's birthday and she, her husband, and nine month old had just arrived in Placencia, which is in the southern part of the country.  Instead of taking a 90 minute ferry and then a 5 hour bus ride to get there, I spent the extra $80 to take a few puddle jumpers to get down there in less than an hour.

For my pilot friends, Tropic Air uses a Cessna Caravan which is a single engine turbo prop that fits 15 people including pilot and co-pilot.  When we took off from San Pedro I noticed that we used a lot of runway to get the thing off the ground and it climbed like a turkey fattened up for Thanksgiving.  But we  were on our way to Belize City Municipal and the view of the islands was great.  Coming into Muni, I noticed the runway seemed pretty short but at least it was surrounded by shallow water in the event of an emergency;)  After unloading a few people and taking on a few more, we taxied downwind and the pilot turned her around using every inch of ground available.  I think the nose wheel actually got a little wet.  Then he gunned it down the runway and by "gunned it" I mean "we started a slow roll to the other end of the runway."  When we passed the airport terminal, which was close to the end of the runway, I was hoping we would have more speed than we did.  I could see the pilot starting to pull up which immediately signaled the stall horn.  So instead of gaining altitude for take off, basically the runway just ends, the plane stays level, and you are left flying a few feet over the water.  Luckily there is no 50 ft obstacle to clear which left us free to gain speed and altitude and make our way to Dangriga and then Placencia which both have longer runways.  I looked up the specs for the Caravan and the runway at Muni.  The Caravan needs 1,500 ft for take off and the Muni runway is around 1,600 ft.  Just enough.

Looking south down the peninsula of Placencia

After getting safely on the ground in Placencia, I found my cousin and her family which wasn't hard to do since Placencia was just kicking off its Lobster Fest and everyone was at one spot on the beach.  Placencia's Lobster Fest is boasted as the biggest in the country and the best party of the year.  From what I gauged over the weekend of activities was this:

- All the restaurant owners close their comfortable spacious restaurants to cook in a short row of tents which offer no seating for customers, minimum shade, minimum selection, and expensive lobster plates. ~ negative

- All the hawkers who endlessly try to sell you their "handmade" wood carvings of a 5 ft long mutated crocodile that they say will easily fit into my backpack convene under one tent keeping the streets hassle free to stroll through. ~ positive

- The 20 ft x 20 ft stack of half blown speakers that relentlessly pound out local hip hop artist's music which is actually re-re-mixed American hip hop songs with the words slightly changed that can be heard anywhere within a 1 mile radius. ~ negative

- For being boasted as one of the biggest parties of the year, it basically just gave the locals and tourists one single place to gather and drink beer instead of being spread throughout the town ~ positive/negative

Aside from that, Placencia is a very laid back place that claims the world's narrowest main street at 4 ft wide according to the Guinness Book of World Records.  The following week was spent relaxing and hanging with  my family which really meant doing everything according to a 9 month old's time line.

Belizien high chair

• 5 am:  wake up
• 8 am:  take nap
• 11 am:  eat lunch
• 2 pm:  take nap
• 5 pm: eat dinner
• 7 pm: go to bed
• wake up twice during the night
• repeat

We got the occasional walk along the beach or golf cart ride in there as well and it was great to see them.  After they left, I have just been in Placencia for a few days hanging out with the locals and waiting for any boats heading to Guatemala.  There have been a few but either they have enough crew or are heading north.  I have been at least eating well thanks to local cook, Brenda, who has a tent and barbecue pit down by the harbor and she always serves up a heaping of great local food along with a side of sexual innuendoes that usually leaves you feeling slightly uncomfortable.  It's either that or the food.

Brenda's Magic Cookin'

Enticing as that sounds, things are a bit too slow and I am tired of waiting, so I am taking off to catch a few ferries and a bus to get to Livingston, Guatemala where I can start heading up the Rio Dulce.  So the next time you hear from me, I should be somewhere in Guatemala.

Should have all the pictures uploaded for the Belize link by tomorrow.

Cheers,
Jay

And I kiss the ground that is Belize

It's been a rough few days.

First off, sorry about the whale shark video.  I just uploaded it last minute before we left Mexico and didn't realize I had to make it public.  Welcome to Youtube.  I put the link on the right.

Summary of the last 3 days.  Left Puerto Aventuras early Monday morning with high winds, 15- 20 knots from the southeast, the direction we were heading, and darks skies with the occasional torrential downpour.  Sounds bad and it was, however it was the best weather window we had for days with good forecasts for the next few days which we needed to get to Belize.

One of the only highlights from our trip:  Sunrise at anchorage

To kick things off, I threw up my Dramamine in the first 2 hours.  It is supposed to help against sea sickness.  Stan threw up later.  Before half a day was over, the rain dodger came loose on the starboard side and the starboard stern lifeline broke which is never good especially in rough seas however it did give me easier access to chum when required.  After 12 hours of this we got to our first anchorage without much incidence aside from the fact that I got the dinghy line wrapped in the prop.  This did give me the chance to actually have a use for the scuba knife I bought.  After a rough night's sleep at anchorage, got going around 6 am and after a bit of a rocky start were on our way once again to San Pedro, Belize.  We planned to sail all day, through the night, and arrive on Wednesday afternoon.  The skies cleared thankfully but the winds stayed strong making it a very rough and arduous passage.  We at least were able to get the sails up which kept the boat a bit more stable allowing us to stay un-sea sick.  After a full day, full night, and another half day of this and eating only 6 small cake donuts along with a bottle of water on a queazy stomach, we made our final turn for the inlet between the reefs into San Pedro.

It's a bit taxing, to say the least, after 2.5 days of rough sailing to have to find a 75 yard cut between a 23 mile long reef in 10 ft seas.  The only thing we had were the coordinates from the guide book which had already failed us once before.  With this cut being particularly tricky in that once you make it inside the main cut you have to make an almost due north turn, hard right, to avoid another reef dead ahead.  We were told this was marked by a yellow buoy.  I couldn't find a drawing of the harbor entrance so I drew this extremely detailed map of the reef entrance to show how tight it was:

We made a few calls on the radio for assistance on entering the harbor to no avail.  We approached slowly with the waves growing in size and strength and seemed to be online at least to a point where the waves weren't crashing on the surface in mighty blows but still no yellow marker.  Finally, with a pucker factor of 10 out of 10, we pushed through the main cut and it seemed we had passed the main reef safely.  I could make out the secondary reef ahead, so we turned north for a bit and after we took a breathe, realized we were safely in San Pedro harbor.  Stan had some friends here who greeted us at the dock with a much welcomed Belikin in hand for each of us.

So after that adventure, when the only thing you want to do is pass out face first on the beach, we have to hunt down the Port Authority, Immigration Office, and Customs Office to legally step foot on land.  The Port Authority is conveniently located at the southern most tip of the island well out of town.  As our taxi driver took us there on the 20 minute ride and the roads got worse and population got very sparse, I began to think he might be taking us "rich yachters" out to the desolate ship junk yard to rob us.  I kept thinking this will be funny for him because the only thing I had on me was about 7 pesos in the pocket of my swimming trunks which I wouldn't even want to get out since they could've probably stood up on their own after wearing them for the past 3 days at sea.  However that was just a passing thought.  Our taxi driver was a very nice guy and got us to the shack that was the Belizean Port Authority.  Once inside, they read our boat name was Mobius.  Then one said, "Ah, that was you on the radio calling earlier.  We thought you wanted water at the Yacht Club."  Strange because I specifically remember saying, "Anyone listening in the San Pedro area, this is sailing vessel Mobius.  We are seeking assistance to enter through the reef and safely into the harbor.  Please come in."  I guess somehow that got lost in translation.  We also asked them about the yellow buoy.  They said, "Oh yeah, that broke off Saturday in high wind.  We are looking into getting a new shackle for it."

So after that episode we had to go back in town to the Immigration Office for an hour or so, then next door to the Customs Office, where the official didn't have time to check our boat personally but took our word for what we were claiming and of course we were fine with his laid back island attitude.

Finally back to the boat to clean her up, shower ourselves, and eat.

In other news, this last trip was the straw that broke the camel's back.  As Stan and I came to heads, I decided to leave the Mobius and become a land lubber like the rest of you.  My goal now is to get down south to Placencia to see my cousin and her family who are here on vacation for the next week.  Recuperate, relax, wash my swim trunks, and after that we"ll see what happens next.  It is Lobster Fest now in Belize and my cousin and I always get into trouble so I am sure I will have some good stories shortly.

Hope everyone is well and I appreciate hearing from you.

Cheers,
Jay