I'm sure everyone knows by now, but Robyn and I have been home safe and sound since Oct. 5. Being home is bittersweet: we're glad to be back in the comfort of our homes and friends, but there's still a lot of world to see and travelling will always be part of our lives.
There are still at least two posts for me to put up here (Galapagos and Macchu Picchu), and then the blog's theme will likely change as our lives change direction again and we chart a new path.
Thanks to everyone for reading along. I've been posting quite a few pics of the trip within Facebook. If you don't have Facebook (or my contact info) then send me an email [steve.gervais(at)gmail.com] and we'll figure out a way for you to see all of the pics. Needless to say I've got plenty more than were posted here in the blog.
Have a good day.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Checking back in
Well, this is my first post of the month and it’s the 19th. Ouch. I think this just reflects how much fun we’ve had since arriving in Ecuador on the first of the month though. I won’t be able to convey in complete detail everything we’ve done for the past weeks, but I can give you a taste of the great places we’ve seen lately. Apologies if the sequence of visits is hard to follow – we’ve had to do some backtracking over this period in order to see what we wanted…
Banos and Montanita
Banos de Agua Santa is in the highlands of central Ecuador. It is a typical tourist stop and one that we were glad we saw. It’s main attractions are the thermal hot springs that surround the town and the ominous Tungurahua volcano that towers above it. Banos is a town for rest and relaxation and we indulged in what it had to offer by signing up for massages and, in Robyn’s case, a thorough facial. The competition in town is fierce for the tourists’ massage allowances so the prices were much cheaper than you’d find anywhere else – full body treatments cost $25 (which was nothing to stress out about). From our massages we managed to drop ourselves into the hot springs to unwind. Once thoroughly pruney we dragged ourselves, in a state of bliss, into one of the local hippy-vegetarian restaurants and had a great meal. Digesting our food was the most intense activity we engaged in that day. The next day we rented a dune buggy and toured around the town and neighbouring areas, checking out the waterfalls and taking a closer look at the immense volcano. Our time in Banos was brief and short on activities but we enjoyed the pace very much and aren’t ashamed to say we welcomed the time to take a breath.
After Banos we travelled to the coastal town of Montanita, still in Ecuador. We had heard of the great surf here and now that we have gained some semblance of skill at the sport we are anxious for any chance to get on a wave. The place was a typically (awesome) surf town where partying and socializing ride the waves between time on the board. The beach was a little crowded for our liking but we did spend an ample amount of time in the water and satisfied our ‘surf or die’ side for the time being. Montanita was our last stop before we organized ourselves for the Galapagos, which is where we’ve been for the past week…
After Banos we travelled to the coastal town of Montanita, still in Ecuador. We had heard of the great surf here and now that we have gained some semblance of skill at the sport we are anxious for any chance to get on a wave. The place was a typically (awesome) surf town where partying and socializing ride the waves between time on the board. The beach was a little crowded for our liking but we did spend an ample amount of time in the water and satisfied our ‘surf or die’ side for the time being. Montanita was our last stop before we organized ourselves for the Galapagos, which is where we’ve been for the past week…
Otaval-OMG Sweaters!
Using Quito as a launching point, we made our way to Otavalo, North of the capital. The draw to this small town is it’s market which runs on Saturdays and is the oldest and largest in Ecuador. While historically an opportunity for locals to hawk their products, produce, and livestock, the growing tourist interest in the event has swelled the market with stall after stall of souvenirs for sale.
Otavalo is nestled in a valley amongst cliffs and ridges, alongside Lago San Pedro and in the shadow of the nearby volcanoes Imbabura and Cotacachi. It is a beautiful landscape, although the elevation gives the weather a brisk bite – it was very similar to mid-autumn in Toronto. We spent our first day in town (Friday) enjoying our quant B&B and walking around the town. A smaller market is always present in the central square but we wanted to wait until the main event the next day before we made purchases, so we (read: Robyn) were able to quiet our pangs of retail hunger and hold off. As the day drew near to a close we were able to visit a local artesian named Miguel who was a master weaver and had been practicing his back-strap loom technique for over 60 years. We went to watch him work and he took us through the process of making one of his intricate weavings from wool collection, darning, threading, setting the loom and ultimately weaving. His work takes a vast amount of time, concentration, strength, and he still manages to inject massive amounts of pride. He had an ongoing friendship with our B&B owner and she told us that his mission is to continue the dying traditions of weaving textiles and we were honoured that he was willing to share with us. Sitting with him for the ninety minutes we did was a mesmerizing, meditative experience and a highlight of our trip as a whole. We eventually toured his shop/gallery and were able to purchase one of his pieces, which will be hung in our (eventual) house with reverence.
Saturday greeted us with sunshine and, after a hearty breakfast full of shopping fuel, we ventured back into the streets. The market had trebled in size and now cut off many of the streets surrounding the central plaza. Cars were diverted and visitors, both local and international, were encouraged to enter the labyrinth of kiosks which were all displaying their wares and fares. The most popular items, both in supply and demand, were clothing and accessories woven from Alpaca fibre. Imagine Merino wool except twice as thick and you get a picture of this luxurious material. Robyn and I each bought sweaters and we also bought a blanket, which we’ve since used a few times. We also bought heavy hand- made wool sweaters which will come in handy during the upcoming Canadian winter. The market was also a great place to people-watch and I was fascinated by the indigenous people, who both tended and frequented the booths, wearing their traditional garb: men wore straw sandals and white trousers with dark tunics and a black felt hat; the women wore ornate dresses and gold necklaces which were used to signify status through the size and number of beads. The tourists, especially nearer the end of Saturday and Sunday, were decked out in their newly-purchased sweaters, proudly displaying their new plumage which declared to everyone around that they were definitely not local (this is a strange behavioural phenomenon amongst the traveller genus). Obviously Robyn and I were amongst this group.
We shopped and watched for most of the day and then enjoyed an afternoon of lounging as the clouds rolled in later on and never left. We retired satisfied with our plundering and slept soundly knowing we had a sufficient load of souvenirs to add to our collection. Sunday we boarded the bus again for the necessary return to Quito en route to Banos, which has to be the most unfortunately named town in South America.
Otavalo is nestled in a valley amongst cliffs and ridges, alongside Lago San Pedro and in the shadow of the nearby volcanoes Imbabura and Cotacachi. It is a beautiful landscape, although the elevation gives the weather a brisk bite – it was very similar to mid-autumn in Toronto. We spent our first day in town (Friday) enjoying our quant B&B and walking around the town. A smaller market is always present in the central square but we wanted to wait until the main event the next day before we made purchases, so we (read: Robyn) were able to quiet our pangs of retail hunger and hold off. As the day drew near to a close we were able to visit a local artesian named Miguel who was a master weaver and had been practicing his back-strap loom technique for over 60 years. We went to watch him work and he took us through the process of making one of his intricate weavings from wool collection, darning, threading, setting the loom and ultimately weaving. His work takes a vast amount of time, concentration, strength, and he still manages to inject massive amounts of pride. He had an ongoing friendship with our B&B owner and she told us that his mission is to continue the dying traditions of weaving textiles and we were honoured that he was willing to share with us. Sitting with him for the ninety minutes we did was a mesmerizing, meditative experience and a highlight of our trip as a whole. We eventually toured his shop/gallery and were able to purchase one of his pieces, which will be hung in our (eventual) house with reverence.
Saturday greeted us with sunshine and, after a hearty breakfast full of shopping fuel, we ventured back into the streets. The market had trebled in size and now cut off many of the streets surrounding the central plaza. Cars were diverted and visitors, both local and international, were encouraged to enter the labyrinth of kiosks which were all displaying their wares and fares. The most popular items, both in supply and demand, were clothing and accessories woven from Alpaca fibre. Imagine Merino wool except twice as thick and you get a picture of this luxurious material. Robyn and I each bought sweaters and we also bought a blanket, which we’ve since used a few times. We also bought heavy hand- made wool sweaters which will come in handy during the upcoming Canadian winter. The market was also a great place to people-watch and I was fascinated by the indigenous people, who both tended and frequented the booths, wearing their traditional garb: men wore straw sandals and white trousers with dark tunics and a black felt hat; the women wore ornate dresses and gold necklaces which were used to signify status through the size and number of beads. The tourists, especially nearer the end of Saturday and Sunday, were decked out in their newly-purchased sweaters, proudly displaying their new plumage which declared to everyone around that they were definitely not local (this is a strange behavioural phenomenon amongst the traveller genus). Obviously Robyn and I were amongst this group.
We shopped and watched for most of the day and then enjoyed an afternoon of lounging as the clouds rolled in later on and never left. We retired satisfied with our plundering and slept soundly knowing we had a sufficient load of souvenirs to add to our collection. Sunday we boarded the bus again for the necessary return to Quito en route to Banos, which has to be the most unfortunately named town in South America.
The Quito to Ecuador
We flew from Colombia to Quito, which is the capital of Ecuador. It is a beautiful town full of rich history and great architecture. The city has two distinct ‘districts’ of the old town and the new town. The old town houses the ancient buildings such as the central plaza and the city’s grand basilica. We stayed in the old town while in Quito and toured the area and soaked it all in the day after we arrived. Walking day trips around the old part of town allowed us to see most of the great sights, as well as taste the homemade ice cream at a local heladeria San Agustin, which first opened it’s doors in 1858. We also visited the Contemporary Museum, which was a walking tour of Ecuador’s revolution and struggle for freedom from French rule. With key figures and events depicted in life-size wax figures, there was a lot to look at; unfortunately the entire museum was in Spanish and we had no idea what was going on or who we were looking at and learning about. Robyn took the opportunity to pose alongside the wax figures, forever embossing herself into the history of the country (and providing some new stories).
The ‘new town’ is a result of the influx of foreigners and travellers: while light on historic and cultural outposts, the area boasts plenty of great bars and restaurants. We walked this part of town (which was much larger than we had expected) for the second day, sampling the food and spirits. Our day ended at a café which overlooked the North part of the city’s stunning view of the valley below. The sunset and cervezas complimented each other perfectly and capped off a great couple of days.
We did have a troubling experience while departing the city, but it’s only the cost of travelling. When we were checking out of the hotel we had two hours to kill between checkout time and the departure of our bus, Southbound deeper into Ecuador. With the help of the front desk we put all of our bags into the locked luggage storage room, which was a glorified closet. We ventured into the city and returned to the hotel for our things, retrieved our bags from the room, and took off to board the bus. It wasn’t until we arrived at our hostal in Banos, five hours away, that we realized that we had been robbed. An inventory of the losses included a cell phone, an iPod, Robyn’s credit card, and my sunglasses. Because of the timing and sequence of events, we knew that it had to be an employee of the hotel who had access to the locked storage room. More upsetting was the fact that, on the day of the theft, someone attempted to make a $5000 purchase on the credit card. Despite numerous calls to the hotel we were unable to locate any of the items or even get management to accept some of the responsibility. Luckily we were able to prevent any further significant damage and the items we lost are easily replaceable, but it was still a frustrating experience.
The ‘new town’ is a result of the influx of foreigners and travellers: while light on historic and cultural outposts, the area boasts plenty of great bars and restaurants. We walked this part of town (which was much larger than we had expected) for the second day, sampling the food and spirits. Our day ended at a café which overlooked the North part of the city’s stunning view of the valley below. The sunset and cervezas complimented each other perfectly and capped off a great couple of days.
We did have a troubling experience while departing the city, but it’s only the cost of travelling. When we were checking out of the hotel we had two hours to kill between checkout time and the departure of our bus, Southbound deeper into Ecuador. With the help of the front desk we put all of our bags into the locked luggage storage room, which was a glorified closet. We ventured into the city and returned to the hotel for our things, retrieved our bags from the room, and took off to board the bus. It wasn’t until we arrived at our hostal in Banos, five hours away, that we realized that we had been robbed. An inventory of the losses included a cell phone, an iPod, Robyn’s credit card, and my sunglasses. Because of the timing and sequence of events, we knew that it had to be an employee of the hotel who had access to the locked storage room. More upsetting was the fact that, on the day of the theft, someone attempted to make a $5000 purchase on the credit card. Despite numerous calls to the hotel we were unable to locate any of the items or even get management to accept some of the responsibility. Luckily we were able to prevent any further significant damage and the items we lost are easily replaceable, but it was still a frustrating experience.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Beauty and the Beach
We flew from Panama City into Bogota, the capital of Colombia. I will admit that we both were a little apprehensive in flying into Colombia, given its reputation, but we heard great things about this country from many fellow travellers and decided to throw caution to the tailwind and explore. We stayed only one night in Bogota before launching out again, North to Cartagena.
Cartagena is another walled city and is the oldest in Colombia. Cartagena was used as a collection point for the treasures that the Spanish collected while conquering the indigenous of South America. Once collected, the booty would be packed aboard giant ships and transported back to Europe. Originally built in 1533, it quickly gained wealth and notoriety, which attracted those pesky plundering pirates. After a couple of initial attacks and damage to the city, the walls were erected in an effort to protect the Spanish interests. This set the stage for this beautiful enclosed ancient cityscape, which has been well preserved since its designation as a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1984. Despite the beautiful walls, the plundering continues within the city as the vast majority of the buildings have been converted into tourist shops and swanky cafes. Regardless of the invaded consumerism, the tight streets and overhanging balconies still lend the small town a cozy charm.
While in the area of the old city, we actually stayed in the neighbouring beach town of Bocagrande. The beachside gathering is really only a group of three parallel streets that run along the water and, although it has a spattering of hotels and restaurants, it caters heavily to local tourists as opposed to international travellers. We struggled to find food that could satisfy our vegetarian diet and servers that could understand our malnourished Spanish but we managed. The beach was not the most pristine but it was packed with locals and provided great people watching, especially during sunsets when the police herded everyone out of the water and a whole day of drinking had everyone drunk in good spirits.
Three nights in the area allowed us to see and do everything that we wanted to, and from here we were off to Medellin.
Cartagena is another walled city and is the oldest in Colombia. Cartagena was used as a collection point for the treasures that the Spanish collected while conquering the indigenous of South America. Once collected, the booty would be packed aboard giant ships and transported back to Europe. Originally built in 1533, it quickly gained wealth and notoriety, which attracted those pesky plundering pirates. After a couple of initial attacks and damage to the city, the walls were erected in an effort to protect the Spanish interests. This set the stage for this beautiful enclosed ancient cityscape, which has been well preserved since its designation as a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1984. Despite the beautiful walls, the plundering continues within the city as the vast majority of the buildings have been converted into tourist shops and swanky cafes. Regardless of the invaded consumerism, the tight streets and overhanging balconies still lend the small town a cozy charm.
While in the area of the old city, we actually stayed in the neighbouring beach town of Bocagrande. The beachside gathering is really only a group of three parallel streets that run along the water and, although it has a spattering of hotels and restaurants, it caters heavily to local tourists as opposed to international travellers. We struggled to find food that could satisfy our vegetarian diet and servers that could understand our malnourished Spanish but we managed. The beach was not the most pristine but it was packed with locals and provided great people watching, especially during sunsets when the police herded everyone out of the water and a whole day of drinking had everyone drunk in good spirits.
Three nights in the area allowed us to see and do everything that we wanted to, and from here we were off to Medellin.
Friday, August 27, 2010
A man, a plan, a canal, Panama!
From Bocas it was a short flight into the heart and financial soul of Panama - the capital of Panama City. When the name Panama is mentioned the immediate next thought is of the canals and we weren't about to visit this great country and slide past its most identifiable component without further investigation.
Before we got to the locks, though, we realized that there were other important and interesting places to visit around the city. The first stop of our 'ubertourist' day was to the old town of Casco Viejo, which was the second birthplace of this great city. The first iteration of Panama City, designated Panama Viejo, was attacked and razed by Captain (Henry) Morgan in 1671, and Casco Viejo was built soon after. In order to protect the city from further pirate attacks, the new location was built surrounded by walls on a peninsula a few kilometres away. This area was originally called Las Siete Calles because it is comprised of seven streets that each offered their own distinct wares and services (ie. butcher's street, shopkeeper's) at the time. While these services have evaporated, the numerous churches remain and sprinkle the area with ancient architecture and charm. The narrow, paved streets wind in and out of old convents, cathedrals, art galleries, parkettes and plazas. Not all the buildings have been properly preserved though, and it is evident that the Panamanian government is pouring money into the area to continue developing it into a tourist draw.
If the ancient sights weren't enough for one location, Casco Viejo also holds the distinction of housing the home of the President of Panama, which also happens to be White. We were amazed by the amount of access we had to this important building as we were allowed to walk right up to the front entrance, taking pictures the entire time. We simultaneously felt very touristy and VIP.
Although Casco was big in history and things to see, it is actually quite a small area and did not take very long to peruse completely so we had enough time to kill two sights with one bus pass and see the Canals also. I was interested to know that the Canals were originally built by the States as a means to encourage cross-world shipping and generate profits. In return for the materials and expertise in designing and building the Canals in 1913, the agreement between the US and Panama decreed a small strip of land on either side of the Canals as American soil. As such, the canals and profits generated by them were American property, which were shared with Panama as a percentage. Because of the vast amount of money they generated, the people of Panama sought control of the Canals and eventually won their battle, with the locks being turned over to its native country in 1999. To give you a sense of how much money is made by these locks, while we visited them we watched two huge cargo ships cross through and were told, via the PA, that the Canals generated, just from these two ships, over $500,00US in revenue. When we were told this we couldn’t help but wonder where all this money goes – Panama was not a desolate country but it by no means seemed as if the money easily trickled down into the country’s communities.
The locks themselves were obviously immense and impressive. There are two sets of locks so two ships can be brought from one ocean’s level to another simultaneously. There are plans for expansion, adding three more passageways further West from the current site. It’s amazing to think that there is an ever-increasing demand for shipment considering the size of the ships that can already pass through. The largest container ships in the world are called Panamax ships and are designed specifically to pass through the locks with two inches of clearance all around them. These are massive. I would estimate that, on deck, there are at least 5x5x15 (375) shipping containers visible, and we were told that the ships had a much higher capacity below deck than above. Considering a transport truck carries only one or two of these containers, you can get a sense of the amount of cargo that these vessels can carry. We watched the ships for about an hour and then enjoyed a coffee and dessert at the attached gourmet restaurant. We felt very sophisticated and cultured.
The next day we visited the Causeway, which is a long manmade bridge of land that connects the main city to a small island within the bay. It is about 4km long and very narrow, but provides a great place for locals to walk, run and bike, and is also a favourite tourist stroll, providing an outlet from the hustle and bustle of the city. We rented bikes and went up and down the area, stopping to look off one side at the city and docks; huge yachts obstructing the view to the towering buildings in the distance, and watch the ships lumber their way into the Canals on the other. We ate dinner this night at a great pizzeria at the end of the Causeway, which allowed us great views of the city as the sun set and the light show of a powerful storm that rolled in.
We had officially checked off all of the major sights to see in Panama and were pleasantly surprised – although many can say they’ve ‘passed through’ Panama, we are proud to have stopped and smelled the boat fumes.
Before we got to the locks, though, we realized that there were other important and interesting places to visit around the city. The first stop of our 'ubertourist' day was to the old town of Casco Viejo, which was the second birthplace of this great city. The first iteration of Panama City, designated Panama Viejo, was attacked and razed by Captain (Henry) Morgan in 1671, and Casco Viejo was built soon after. In order to protect the city from further pirate attacks, the new location was built surrounded by walls on a peninsula a few kilometres away. This area was originally called Las Siete Calles because it is comprised of seven streets that each offered their own distinct wares and services (ie. butcher's street, shopkeeper's) at the time. While these services have evaporated, the numerous churches remain and sprinkle the area with ancient architecture and charm. The narrow, paved streets wind in and out of old convents, cathedrals, art galleries, parkettes and plazas. Not all the buildings have been properly preserved though, and it is evident that the Panamanian government is pouring money into the area to continue developing it into a tourist draw.
If the ancient sights weren't enough for one location, Casco Viejo also holds the distinction of housing the home of the President of Panama, which also happens to be White. We were amazed by the amount of access we had to this important building as we were allowed to walk right up to the front entrance, taking pictures the entire time. We simultaneously felt very touristy and VIP.
Although Casco was big in history and things to see, it is actually quite a small area and did not take very long to peruse completely so we had enough time to kill two sights with one bus pass and see the Canals also. I was interested to know that the Canals were originally built by the States as a means to encourage cross-world shipping and generate profits. In return for the materials and expertise in designing and building the Canals in 1913, the agreement between the US and Panama decreed a small strip of land on either side of the Canals as American soil. As such, the canals and profits generated by them were American property, which were shared with Panama as a percentage. Because of the vast amount of money they generated, the people of Panama sought control of the Canals and eventually won their battle, with the locks being turned over to its native country in 1999. To give you a sense of how much money is made by these locks, while we visited them we watched two huge cargo ships cross through and were told, via the PA, that the Canals generated, just from these two ships, over $500,00US in revenue. When we were told this we couldn’t help but wonder where all this money goes – Panama was not a desolate country but it by no means seemed as if the money easily trickled down into the country’s communities.
The locks themselves were obviously immense and impressive. There are two sets of locks so two ships can be brought from one ocean’s level to another simultaneously. There are plans for expansion, adding three more passageways further West from the current site. It’s amazing to think that there is an ever-increasing demand for shipment considering the size of the ships that can already pass through. The largest container ships in the world are called Panamax ships and are designed specifically to pass through the locks with two inches of clearance all around them. These are massive. I would estimate that, on deck, there are at least 5x5x15 (375) shipping containers visible, and we were told that the ships had a much higher capacity below deck than above. Considering a transport truck carries only one or two of these containers, you can get a sense of the amount of cargo that these vessels can carry. We watched the ships for about an hour and then enjoyed a coffee and dessert at the attached gourmet restaurant. We felt very sophisticated and cultured.
The next day we visited the Causeway, which is a long manmade bridge of land that connects the main city to a small island within the bay. It is about 4km long and very narrow, but provides a great place for locals to walk, run and bike, and is also a favourite tourist stroll, providing an outlet from the hustle and bustle of the city. We rented bikes and went up and down the area, stopping to look off one side at the city and docks; huge yachts obstructing the view to the towering buildings in the distance, and watch the ships lumber their way into the Canals on the other. We ate dinner this night at a great pizzeria at the end of the Causeway, which allowed us great views of the city as the sun set and the light show of a powerful storm that rolled in.
We had officially checked off all of the major sights to see in Panama and were pleasantly surprised – although many can say they’ve ‘passed through’ Panama, we are proud to have stopped and smelled the boat fumes.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Straight from the Bull's Mouth
Our time on Isla Colon in Bocas del Toro Panama has us in agreement that it was our favourite destination to date on this leg of the trip. Considering our decision to visit Panama was on a whim, we're already very happy we made it.
We arrived in Bocas from a night in David, which we used as a stopover on our trip from Dominical, Costa. Bocas del Toro is the capital of Isla Colon, which is the main island in a small group off the Northwest coast of Panama. Bocas is the name of the largest town and translates to 'Mouth of the Bull'. A better blogger would no why it's named that, so I admit my room for improvement. The trip there was a bit of a hassle and left us tired, but in the end was a blessing. We had planned to stay in the area for three nights but ended up getting stuck (locally called 'Bocanized') and staying for five.
Our first day was spent exploring the small town (basically 2 parallel streets about 500m long) and relaxing. We had been on the move a lot lately and were getting rundown, so we took a maintenance day. Don't judge. After a long duration of overcast weather in Costa, Panama finally delivered some clear skies on day two. We took the opportunity to rent bicycles in the early afternoon and rode all over the island, visiting remote beaches and touring through other smaller towns. It was a very 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona' kind of montage, and that doesn't make me gay.
The third day was the one we had planned a bit for, and it was the nicest weather we had seen since arriving in Central America. We attached ourselves to a tour that left early in the morning bound for our first stop, which was Dolphin Bay. If the name doesn't give it away, it was the local dolphin hangout and we hoped to sight a few. Luckily, in the 25 minutes we sat in the bay we got to see 4 pairs of dolphins, which was a huge highlight for Robyn. The playfulness of the animals was on display when a boat drove near a couple and started circling them. Without missing a beat the dolphins chased the boat, 20 feet behind, darting in and out of the wake and being generally awesome.
From there we went to Coral Key to snorkel. Although not comparable to Australia's Great Barrier Reef, we did get to see some great sealife and the full-palated colours of the local coral. We spent over an hour in the water (which led to slight sunburn on both our backs) and worked up a good appetite.
Lunch was next at a restaurant-on-stilts that was marooned in the middle of the bay, attached to an outcrop of mangroves. The coral and sand near the retaurant backlit the aquamarine water perfectly as the peaked sun continued to beat down. We ate our (packed) lunch at the end of the dock together and had a great time away from the others. It was a perfect moment.
Red Frog Beach was next, to digest some food and catch rays for an hour. Adhering to the '30 minutes after you eat' rule, we lounged for a while and played in the surf. The beach was a kilometre of sparesly populated white sand - inviting to say the least. On the way out we got to interact with some local kids who held the native red frogs captive in leaves in order charge tourists for pictures. Needless to say...
By now we were all pretty wiped so we went for one more short snorkel on the way back to Bocas and then landed again. It was an incredible day; well worth the sunburns and cost of aloe vera that ensued.
The last day was spent like the first, relaxing and enjoying the great hotel and town's vibe that we had truly connected with. We were excited for the next destination, but were truly sad to leap out of the Bull's Mouth.
We arrived in Bocas from a night in David, which we used as a stopover on our trip from Dominical, Costa. Bocas del Toro is the capital of Isla Colon, which is the main island in a small group off the Northwest coast of Panama. Bocas is the name of the largest town and translates to 'Mouth of the Bull'. A better blogger would no why it's named that, so I admit my room for improvement. The trip there was a bit of a hassle and left us tired, but in the end was a blessing. We had planned to stay in the area for three nights but ended up getting stuck (locally called 'Bocanized') and staying for five.
Our first day was spent exploring the small town (basically 2 parallel streets about 500m long) and relaxing. We had been on the move a lot lately and were getting rundown, so we took a maintenance day. Don't judge. After a long duration of overcast weather in Costa, Panama finally delivered some clear skies on day two. We took the opportunity to rent bicycles in the early afternoon and rode all over the island, visiting remote beaches and touring through other smaller towns. It was a very 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona' kind of montage, and that doesn't make me gay.
The third day was the one we had planned a bit for, and it was the nicest weather we had seen since arriving in Central America. We attached ourselves to a tour that left early in the morning bound for our first stop, which was Dolphin Bay. If the name doesn't give it away, it was the local dolphin hangout and we hoped to sight a few. Luckily, in the 25 minutes we sat in the bay we got to see 4 pairs of dolphins, which was a huge highlight for Robyn. The playfulness of the animals was on display when a boat drove near a couple and started circling them. Without missing a beat the dolphins chased the boat, 20 feet behind, darting in and out of the wake and being generally awesome.
From there we went to Coral Key to snorkel. Although not comparable to Australia's Great Barrier Reef, we did get to see some great sealife and the full-palated colours of the local coral. We spent over an hour in the water (which led to slight sunburn on both our backs) and worked up a good appetite.
Lunch was next at a restaurant-on-stilts that was marooned in the middle of the bay, attached to an outcrop of mangroves. The coral and sand near the retaurant backlit the aquamarine water perfectly as the peaked sun continued to beat down. We ate our (packed) lunch at the end of the dock together and had a great time away from the others. It was a perfect moment.
Red Frog Beach was next, to digest some food and catch rays for an hour. Adhering to the '30 minutes after you eat' rule, we lounged for a while and played in the surf. The beach was a kilometre of sparesly populated white sand - inviting to say the least. On the way out we got to interact with some local kids who held the native red frogs captive in leaves in order charge tourists for pictures. Needless to say...
By now we were all pretty wiped so we went for one more short snorkel on the way back to Bocas and then landed again. It was an incredible day; well worth the sunburns and cost of aloe vera that ensued.
The last day was spent like the first, relaxing and enjoying the great hotel and town's vibe that we had truly connected with. We were excited for the next destination, but were truly sad to leap out of the Bull's Mouth.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Uncle Steve and Aunt Robyn
May not be travel-related, but it's my blog damnit and I'll write what I want!
Just over a week ago, Saturday August 7th, my brother Ryan and his wife Alison welcomed their first child, a boy, Aiden into the world. He came six weeks early and was light at 4lb 8oz, but he's a fighter and he looks to be pulling through. The ordeal was tough on both baby and mother but Alison's recovering and hopefully the whole family will be back at home soon enough.
This mean that Robyn and I are Aunt and Uncle, which we're very excited about! We feel removed and unable to help in any way being so far from home, but it's amazing the feelings of family, love, and responsibility we already have towards this small blessing whom we haven't even met yet.
Aiden's not quite out of the woods yet so please keep him in your thoughts so my brother and Alison can have him home in their arms soon.
In other, related, news our friends Jen and Al Agnew were delivering their first child, also a boy, Jessie, at the same time Alison was in the hospital. From what I have heard all is well for them and Robyn and I are very excited for their new family and wish them the best!
Thanks all.
Just over a week ago, Saturday August 7th, my brother Ryan and his wife Alison welcomed their first child, a boy, Aiden into the world. He came six weeks early and was light at 4lb 8oz, but he's a fighter and he looks to be pulling through. The ordeal was tough on both baby and mother but Alison's recovering and hopefully the whole family will be back at home soon enough.
This mean that Robyn and I are Aunt and Uncle, which we're very excited about! We feel removed and unable to help in any way being so far from home, but it's amazing the feelings of family, love, and responsibility we already have towards this small blessing whom we haven't even met yet.
Aiden's not quite out of the woods yet so please keep him in your thoughts so my brother and Alison can have him home in their arms soon.
In other, related, news our friends Jen and Al Agnew were delivering their first child, also a boy, Jessie, at the same time Alison was in the hospital. From what I have heard all is well for them and Robyn and I are very excited for their new family and wish them the best!
Thanks all.
Dominicalifornia Dreamin'
From Manuel Antonio we took a three hour bus ride to the small surfing town of Dominical which is still further down the Pacific coast. This would turn out to be the final stop in Costa for us, and it didn’t disappoint. As you may remember Robyn and I took surfing lessons in Guatemala, and we rented a board for a day in Montezuma so we were both excited to get back in the waves, and Dominical promised to be a great place to do so. The town is tiny, consisting of three main roads forming a triangle, and the whole area is probably 3km in diameter. In this area there are a few restaurants, more ‘tienda’ grocery stores, and the most populous business – the surf shop. I was amazed at how many places rented and sold surf boards and apparel in such a small town, and the number of options available for surf lessons. As our time played out in the town it was easy to see how closely-knit the whole community was. It was mainly gringo expats who have settled into a very low key lifestyle in which they work to surf. Attitudes are relaxed, clothing is functional, the ocean bathes everyone and haircutting is for suckers.
On our arrival we found our way to the hotel and checked in and then went roaming the town. We knew that we weren’t going to be in town very long and that we definitely wanted to ride, so our first order of business (after lunch) was to find the right outfit to get lessons from. After an exhaustive search we finally agreed that Kelly’s shop, right on the beach, would be the perfect partnership. $35 each got us a two hour lesson and free use of the board for the next 24 hours. This meant that we could have the lesson in the morning, go back for lunch, out again in the afternoon, and again the next morning. Pretty sweet deal.
We woke the next morning in order to make our 9am start time. The proper time for beginner surfing changes daily in accordance with the tides, and I learned that we would (typically) be learning in mid-tide. This meant that the tide is neither rolling in or out for the duration of our lesson, rather it’s in a holding pattern. This is the opportune time to learn because the waves are consistent and predictable and not too large. Apparently at low tides the waves are large and perfect tubes, but the water below them is too shallow for learners to safely ride. At high tide the waves are crashing very close to the shore and so there are too many sand bars in motion and rip tides to compete with. We met our instructor, Junior, at 8:50 and were off into the water. We shared our lesson with two French guys who were taking their first lesson but were in good spirits. As before Robyn rocked it. She was up almost every time she attempted it and by mid-session she was riding waves all the way into the beach. I was fortunate, this time, to get a board that suited my size and so I had much more success this time in properly riding and getting a feel for everything. We had a great time and I think we’re both quickly getting hooked on the sport.
After our lesson we went to the local hangout, Tortilla Flats, and had lunch. Back to the hotel for a refresh and back to the beach to catch some sun. Tortilla Flats again for dinner (there weren’t many options and this was, by far, the most lively and popular) where we had the amazing Nachos Fuerte and a few Imperials.
We were leaving the area the next morning, heading into Panama, but we still managed to wake early and get the boards again and catch some more sets. This time we were without an instructor and on our own, which was more challenging, but we’re both really enjoying not only being in the water but the learning curve of this great sport.
Another rinse off and lunch, and we boarded the bus to Panama….
On our arrival we found our way to the hotel and checked in and then went roaming the town. We knew that we weren’t going to be in town very long and that we definitely wanted to ride, so our first order of business (after lunch) was to find the right outfit to get lessons from. After an exhaustive search we finally agreed that Kelly’s shop, right on the beach, would be the perfect partnership. $35 each got us a two hour lesson and free use of the board for the next 24 hours. This meant that we could have the lesson in the morning, go back for lunch, out again in the afternoon, and again the next morning. Pretty sweet deal.
We woke the next morning in order to make our 9am start time. The proper time for beginner surfing changes daily in accordance with the tides, and I learned that we would (typically) be learning in mid-tide. This meant that the tide is neither rolling in or out for the duration of our lesson, rather it’s in a holding pattern. This is the opportune time to learn because the waves are consistent and predictable and not too large. Apparently at low tides the waves are large and perfect tubes, but the water below them is too shallow for learners to safely ride. At high tide the waves are crashing very close to the shore and so there are too many sand bars in motion and rip tides to compete with. We met our instructor, Junior, at 8:50 and were off into the water. We shared our lesson with two French guys who were taking their first lesson but were in good spirits. As before Robyn rocked it. She was up almost every time she attempted it and by mid-session she was riding waves all the way into the beach. I was fortunate, this time, to get a board that suited my size and so I had much more success this time in properly riding and getting a feel for everything. We had a great time and I think we’re both quickly getting hooked on the sport.
After our lesson we went to the local hangout, Tortilla Flats, and had lunch. Back to the hotel for a refresh and back to the beach to catch some sun. Tortilla Flats again for dinner (there weren’t many options and this was, by far, the most lively and popular) where we had the amazing Nachos Fuerte and a few Imperials.
We were leaving the area the next morning, heading into Panama, but we still managed to wake early and get the boards again and catch some more sets. This time we were without an instructor and on our own, which was more challenging, but we’re both really enjoying not only being in the water but the learning curve of this great sport.
Another rinse off and lunch, and we boarded the bus to Panama….
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Manuel's Hyperhydrosis is Contagious
We arrived in Manuel Antonio last Thursday, as mentioned before, and spent the first day relaxing and exploring the small town. We especially enjoyed our lunch at Cafe Milagro, which has an interesting story about its origins. The rains started on schedule around 3pm so we spent the early evening in our room and ended up ordering a pizza to the hotel. The poor delivery guy delivered the pie on foot while holding an umbrella and got soaked, but he had a huge smile on his face by the time he got to our room so I didn't feel too bad.
The plan was to take a guided tour of Manuel Antonio National Park on Friday morning. All the books and locals said that it was best to get to the park early in order to ensure entrance, as the rangers capped the number of people in the park each day. With this in mind we set our alarms as early as we could conmprehend and managed to make it to our free breakfast at the crack of 8:30. The park was about 3km from our hotel and we decided to walk under the beautiful blue Costa Rican skies, taking the chance to walk off the (delicious, free) french toast. It should be mentioned here that Costa Rica is very humid and hot - something about the equator and lush rainforests playing roles - and the mornings are the hottest as the clouds do not roll in until after lunch. As such the 3km walk gave my body a chance to sweat out about 2 litres of water, and I was drenched by the time we walzted up to the park's entrance.
At the gate we arranged for a guide, Franklin, to show us around. Strangely this was the second tour guide named Frnaklin that we've had in the last two weeks. He was a really nice guy who spoke near perfect English and told us about his extensive education and passion for the local flora and fauna. He carried a huge telescope and endowed me with the privelege, honour, and responsibility of carrying the binoculars! After meeting everyone in the group (a Spanish family and an unmarried, older Dutch couple) we started on the two-hour tour.
During the tour we saw black, green, and tiny lizards, large iguanas, two- and three-toed sloths, lots of birds, owls, white faced monkeys, squirrel monkeys (our favourites), howler monkeys, a nesting hummngbird, three deer, poisoinous spiders, and all the while I played the role of the giant white sweaty pig. It was a great tour. The walk ended on a beach within the park where more white faced monkeys darted amongst the trees and tried to steal the tourists' food. Despite their threat of attack and herpes, they were still cute.
The rest of the day included another Milagro lunch, the rains settling in, two of the happiest hours and a blotted sunset. We ate dinner as the heavens continued their onslaught and then were serenaded to sleep by bellowing howler monkeys in the trees around our hotel. Our time in Manuel Antonio was not even done but already it was one of our favourite places in the world.
The plan was to take a guided tour of Manuel Antonio National Park on Friday morning. All the books and locals said that it was best to get to the park early in order to ensure entrance, as the rangers capped the number of people in the park each day. With this in mind we set our alarms as early as we could conmprehend and managed to make it to our free breakfast at the crack of 8:30. The park was about 3km from our hotel and we decided to walk under the beautiful blue Costa Rican skies, taking the chance to walk off the (delicious, free) french toast. It should be mentioned here that Costa Rica is very humid and hot - something about the equator and lush rainforests playing roles - and the mornings are the hottest as the clouds do not roll in until after lunch. As such the 3km walk gave my body a chance to sweat out about 2 litres of water, and I was drenched by the time we walzted up to the park's entrance.
At the gate we arranged for a guide, Franklin, to show us around. Strangely this was the second tour guide named Frnaklin that we've had in the last two weeks. He was a really nice guy who spoke near perfect English and told us about his extensive education and passion for the local flora and fauna. He carried a huge telescope and endowed me with the privelege, honour, and responsibility of carrying the binoculars! After meeting everyone in the group (a Spanish family and an unmarried, older Dutch couple) we started on the two-hour tour.
During the tour we saw black, green, and tiny lizards, large iguanas, two- and three-toed sloths, lots of birds, owls, white faced monkeys, squirrel monkeys (our favourites), howler monkeys, a nesting hummngbird, three deer, poisoinous spiders, and all the while I played the role of the giant white sweaty pig. It was a great tour. The walk ended on a beach within the park where more white faced monkeys darted amongst the trees and tried to steal the tourists' food. Despite their threat of attack and herpes, they were still cute.
The rest of the day included another Milagro lunch, the rains settling in, two of the happiest hours and a blotted sunset. We ate dinner as the heavens continued their onslaught and then were serenaded to sleep by bellowing howler monkeys in the trees around our hotel. Our time in Manuel Antonio was not even done but already it was one of our favourite places in the world.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Robyn's Birthlongweekend
It's quite belated but I thought I'd acknowledge and recollect Robyn's birthday, which was officially this past Sunday, August 1, but ended up blending into the two days on either side of the seventh day. I was introduced to this 'triple-birthday' phenomenon when I got to know the Fluxgold clan and have a sneaking suspicion that Robyn's mom Barb gave it's first rise to popularity. Regardless of its roots, it's always fun for everyone around when it's someone's birthday so I embrace Robyn's requests for extended jubilation.
The setting for this year's (28th) bday party was Montezuma, which I have alluded to in earlier posts, but will acknowledge now as a great place to celebrate anything. The list of invitees was smaller than average this year but both invited guests showed up to the event and Scott and Ashlet were almost as excited as Robyn herself. We started the festivities on Saturday with a homemade pasta meal in the common-area-kitchen in our hotel. Fusili and garlic bread was married beautifully with white wine and local beer. Satiated, we moved the evening into the drinking game portion, playing 'British Asshole' (which was the entertainment for the vast majority of our time together). I won't go into the details of the game, but it does provide hours of entertainment.
After a sufficient amount of time playing (and beers finished as funishments) we ventured out of the hotel and took to the streets. The small town has only one real nighttime destination and we trod the well-worn path to Chico's bar with smiles on our faces. Saturdays are he busiest nights in town and the dance floor was packed with both locals (Ticos) and travellers (gringos). We were merry but did not go overboard and the beer and shots flowed but not too the point of excess. As is typical in these areas, the policing method can be described as 'hoping to employ the honour system' which allows for a wide range of otherwise-illegal activities to take place in plain sight. Our entire group was exposed to acid for the first time as a local could be seen cutting up blotting paper at the table beside us and placing it on the tongue of his customers (and/or friends?). No need to worry though - no one felt overly anxious to give it a try. At the strike of midnight Robyn's birthday was ushered in and the party kept on unabated. The majority of the time was spent dancing and the four of us had a great time. Our style of dancing (the self-aware, harmless, drunken, repetitive, half-mocking) was in direct contrast to some of the gyrations and intentions of those around us, but all styles were welcomed on the dance floor.
We returned late to the hotel and loudly dove back into the leftover pasta meal, temporarily forgetting the presence of other hotel guests in adjacent rooms. We wound down eventually and fell asleep at a respectable time, in order to ensure we could still somewhat enjoy the next day, because, after all, it was Robyn's birthday.
The setting for this year's (28th) bday party was Montezuma, which I have alluded to in earlier posts, but will acknowledge now as a great place to celebrate anything. The list of invitees was smaller than average this year but both invited guests showed up to the event and Scott and Ashlet were almost as excited as Robyn herself. We started the festivities on Saturday with a homemade pasta meal in the common-area-kitchen in our hotel. Fusili and garlic bread was married beautifully with white wine and local beer. Satiated, we moved the evening into the drinking game portion, playing 'British Asshole' (which was the entertainment for the vast majority of our time together). I won't go into the details of the game, but it does provide hours of entertainment.
After a sufficient amount of time playing (and beers finished as funishments) we ventured out of the hotel and took to the streets. The small town has only one real nighttime destination and we trod the well-worn path to Chico's bar with smiles on our faces. Saturdays are he busiest nights in town and the dance floor was packed with both locals (Ticos) and travellers (gringos). We were merry but did not go overboard and the beer and shots flowed but not too the point of excess. As is typical in these areas, the policing method can be described as 'hoping to employ the honour system' which allows for a wide range of otherwise-illegal activities to take place in plain sight. Our entire group was exposed to acid for the first time as a local could be seen cutting up blotting paper at the table beside us and placing it on the tongue of his customers (and/or friends?). No need to worry though - no one felt overly anxious to give it a try. At the strike of midnight Robyn's birthday was ushered in and the party kept on unabated. The majority of the time was spent dancing and the four of us had a great time. Our style of dancing (the self-aware, harmless, drunken, repetitive, half-mocking) was in direct contrast to some of the gyrations and intentions of those around us, but all styles were welcomed on the dance floor.
We returned late to the hotel and loudly dove back into the leftover pasta meal, temporarily forgetting the presence of other hotel guests in adjacent rooms. We wound down eventually and fell asleep at a respectable time, in order to ensure we could still somewhat enjoy the next day, because, after all, it was Robyn's birthday.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Por Que(pos)?
It's 2:30pm local and I'm about to dive into my second shower of the day here in Manuel Antonio, where we're staying at the beautiful Mango Moon hotel for the night. I'm showering for a second time because we've just returned from the hotel's private beach and the heat and humidity demanded it of me.
We arrived this morning in Manuel from Quepos, where we landed yesterday. Quepos was the last (and most logical) stop for us on our bus route from Montezuma. The Lonely Planet guides recommend staying in Quepos as a cheaper alternative to staying in the Manuel Anotonio area itself but, while I agree that you can save some money, I completely disagree that it's a worthwhile (or even enjoyable) place to stay. We stayed for one night before making our way into Manuel.
Arriving into Manuel via short bus-ride, we tumbled off the bus, burdened by our heavy packs. The mid-morning heat was at it's most mercurial and I started to sweat almost as soon as we started walking. We visited four or five upscale hotels along the main road until our curousity was satisfied and our shirts' appetites had moved from whet to wet. We had decided before arriving here that this area would be one of the few along the trip in which we spoiled ourselves, and we are fine paying the relatively high cost of our current hotel because of the luxury it affords us.
We will be staying in this area for three nights, which will give us enough time to visit the nearby national park, which is the main draw for the area, and also grant us some time to visit the other beaches in the area. The private beach we just returned from was small, secluded, and quite lovely. Although it was a bit rocky, it was a novel experience to be able to lay on hard-packed sand in the glowing heat of the sun and not be able to see another person. Robyn even took this opportunity to let her European side get some air and went topless while we relaxed there.
On our returning walk we got to see another group of white-faced monkeys traversing across the tree limbs overhead. I can speak on Robyn's behalf when I say that neither of us will even tire of watching their very-sapien movements and seeing the curiosity in their faces upon seeing us. We got to watch about eight monkeys slowly make their way across our paths and move on to eat and explore elsewhere in the forest. Because we were going to the beach (and assumed others would be there, who we obviously pre-suspected would likely steal anything left unattended) we did not have our camera on us, so pictures of the animals will have to wait. Fortunately we plan to take the tour of the park tomorrow morning, where the camera will be charged and utilized fully.
Until then, I leave you with the view from our hotel's balcony.
We arrived this morning in Manuel from Quepos, where we landed yesterday. Quepos was the last (and most logical) stop for us on our bus route from Montezuma. The Lonely Planet guides recommend staying in Quepos as a cheaper alternative to staying in the Manuel Anotonio area itself but, while I agree that you can save some money, I completely disagree that it's a worthwhile (or even enjoyable) place to stay. We stayed for one night before making our way into Manuel.
Arriving into Manuel via short bus-ride, we tumbled off the bus, burdened by our heavy packs. The mid-morning heat was at it's most mercurial and I started to sweat almost as soon as we started walking. We visited four or five upscale hotels along the main road until our curousity was satisfied and our shirts' appetites had moved from whet to wet. We had decided before arriving here that this area would be one of the few along the trip in which we spoiled ourselves, and we are fine paying the relatively high cost of our current hotel because of the luxury it affords us.
We will be staying in this area for three nights, which will give us enough time to visit the nearby national park, which is the main draw for the area, and also grant us some time to visit the other beaches in the area. The private beach we just returned from was small, secluded, and quite lovely. Although it was a bit rocky, it was a novel experience to be able to lay on hard-packed sand in the glowing heat of the sun and not be able to see another person. Robyn even took this opportunity to let her European side get some air and went topless while we relaxed there.
On our returning walk we got to see another group of white-faced monkeys traversing across the tree limbs overhead. I can speak on Robyn's behalf when I say that neither of us will even tire of watching their very-sapien movements and seeing the curiosity in their faces upon seeing us. We got to watch about eight monkeys slowly make their way across our paths and move on to eat and explore elsewhere in the forest. Because we were going to the beach (and assumed others would be there, who we obviously pre-suspected would likely steal anything left unattended) we did not have our camera on us, so pictures of the animals will have to wait. Fortunately we plan to take the tour of the park tomorrow morning, where the camera will be charged and utilized fully.
Until then, I leave you with the view from our hotel's balcony.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Montezuma's Preemptive Strike
After spending two nights in Fortuna, at the base of the largest and most active volcano in Costa Rica, Arenal, Robyn and I left Scott and Ashley to spend Thursday night in Mondeverde. Mondeverde is known as the Cloud Forest Town and it didn't disappoint as the misty clouds rolled right down the main street, covering everything in a fast moving fog that constricted escaping views and gave the sleepy town an intimate feel. One night in town turned out to be enough, especially when our sleep was interupted by the couple next door who paid no attention to the latex-thin walls and forced us to endure their rapture. After a short night of gagging and fitful sleep, we left early Friday morning, bound for Montezuma. Upon our arrival in Mondeverde we were told that the only highway that would allow us passage to the necoya pennisula had crumbled just the day before, thus making the voyage difficult and convuluted.
In order to avoid paying $100 US for the two of us to take a shuttle, we needed to catch the first leg of a public transit bus at 6am Friday. Waking up, we both knew that we were in for a long day. We carried our bags on our backs and under our eyes and boarded the bus, which was typically old and musty. The first hour was uneventful until we started to approach the downed bridge, at which point the bus driver performed a grand 3-point turn and drove in reverse for about 3km, which was quite impressive. All of the passengers were baffled as to the reasoning for the manuever but we later realized that, as the road narrowed in order to feed the bridge, this was the only place at which he'd be able to turn the bus around, so he was preparing for his drive out of the area. We backed up to the crashed structure and got out of the bus. Surveying the damage and the cleanup efforts we walked over a catwalk and were on the other side. There we waited for another bus to saddle up, also in reverse, and hopped aboard.
This was a rather short ride because the bus was bound for San Jose and we needed to get off in order to catch the connection that kept us on our route. As we were getting out of the bus I met an older woman named Victoria who spoke fluent English and Spanish and was also on a similar path to us. We stayed close to her in order to avoid getting ourselves mixed up. The connection bus in Barranca drove us the 45 minutes into Puntarenas, where we could find the ferry to the peninsula. In Barranca all of the gringo travellers got off and basically formed a line behind Victoria, who seemed to know her way around. It was as if the seven or eight younger travellers were her kindergarten class on a field trip. Fortunately Victoria did know exactly how to get where she wanted, unfortunately she was destined for another bus stop and we were going to the ferry station, which were on opposite sides of the town. Despite my repeatedly mentioning our need to get to the ferry, she reassuredly guided us to the bus station doorstep before informing us that it was nowhere close to where we needed to be. The large group then split, with us being joined by a solo Japanese traveller named Yuza who also wanted to get to Montezuma. Yuza spoke little English and only slightly more Spanish, so you can imagine the silly scene of the three of us trying to navigate our way through a foreign city, unsure of the direction we needed to head and barely able to speak to each other. While walking as a group, with the map out and awed, confused looks on our faces, we finally tired of the laughter from the locals and asked for help. When it became clear that we were far out of walking distance we hailed a cab and hopped in.
The driver let us know that the ferry departed at 11am and not again until 1pm, and we were 5km away at 10:52. Needless to say, we needed to hurry. The cabbie proceeded to do his best Andretti impression, screaming down the sleepy streets of Puntarenas as fast as his old Corolla would take us. He was downshifting with a vengence and even used the handbrake on more than one occasion to take a turn at speed. It was an exhilirating ride and we luckily snuck in right at the ferry foghorn. We hustled onto the boat and found seats with about 45 seconds to spare.
Off the boat and the public bus is waiting to take us from the ferry town across the coast and into Montezuma. What we thought would be a 45 minute bus ride ended up taking another hour and a half, and me being the gentleman that I am, I allowed others to take seats at the outset of the trip. By now (2:30pm) we'd been on the move for 9 hours and was fading fast. Luckily the bus finally came to it's destination and we hurriedly exited the vehicle. WIth bags on backs we strode confidently into town - only to quicly realize that we'd gotten off the bus too soon and were not in Montezuma. We watched the bus continue on without us and hailed another cab. Twenty more billed-by-the-kilometre minutes later, and we finally arrived. Luckily Montezuma's been a great place with varied cuisine, natural attractions within walking distance, good surf, and a fun night life. We've enjoyed our time here, which was made even sweeter by the (typical) tribultations we endured to get here.
In order to avoid paying $100 US for the two of us to take a shuttle, we needed to catch the first leg of a public transit bus at 6am Friday. Waking up, we both knew that we were in for a long day. We carried our bags on our backs and under our eyes and boarded the bus, which was typically old and musty. The first hour was uneventful until we started to approach the downed bridge, at which point the bus driver performed a grand 3-point turn and drove in reverse for about 3km, which was quite impressive. All of the passengers were baffled as to the reasoning for the manuever but we later realized that, as the road narrowed in order to feed the bridge, this was the only place at which he'd be able to turn the bus around, so he was preparing for his drive out of the area. We backed up to the crashed structure and got out of the bus. Surveying the damage and the cleanup efforts we walked over a catwalk and were on the other side. There we waited for another bus to saddle up, also in reverse, and hopped aboard.
This was a rather short ride because the bus was bound for San Jose and we needed to get off in order to catch the connection that kept us on our route. As we were getting out of the bus I met an older woman named Victoria who spoke fluent English and Spanish and was also on a similar path to us. We stayed close to her in order to avoid getting ourselves mixed up. The connection bus in Barranca drove us the 45 minutes into Puntarenas, where we could find the ferry to the peninsula. In Barranca all of the gringo travellers got off and basically formed a line behind Victoria, who seemed to know her way around. It was as if the seven or eight younger travellers were her kindergarten class on a field trip. Fortunately Victoria did know exactly how to get where she wanted, unfortunately she was destined for another bus stop and we were going to the ferry station, which were on opposite sides of the town. Despite my repeatedly mentioning our need to get to the ferry, she reassuredly guided us to the bus station doorstep before informing us that it was nowhere close to where we needed to be. The large group then split, with us being joined by a solo Japanese traveller named Yuza who also wanted to get to Montezuma. Yuza spoke little English and only slightly more Spanish, so you can imagine the silly scene of the three of us trying to navigate our way through a foreign city, unsure of the direction we needed to head and barely able to speak to each other. While walking as a group, with the map out and awed, confused looks on our faces, we finally tired of the laughter from the locals and asked for help. When it became clear that we were far out of walking distance we hailed a cab and hopped in.
The driver let us know that the ferry departed at 11am and not again until 1pm, and we were 5km away at 10:52. Needless to say, we needed to hurry. The cabbie proceeded to do his best Andretti impression, screaming down the sleepy streets of Puntarenas as fast as his old Corolla would take us. He was downshifting with a vengence and even used the handbrake on more than one occasion to take a turn at speed. It was an exhilirating ride and we luckily snuck in right at the ferry foghorn. We hustled onto the boat and found seats with about 45 seconds to spare.
Off the boat and the public bus is waiting to take us from the ferry town across the coast and into Montezuma. What we thought would be a 45 minute bus ride ended up taking another hour and a half, and me being the gentleman that I am, I allowed others to take seats at the outset of the trip. By now (2:30pm) we'd been on the move for 9 hours and was fading fast. Luckily the bus finally came to it's destination and we hurriedly exited the vehicle. WIth bags on backs we strode confidently into town - only to quicly realize that we'd gotten off the bus too soon and were not in Montezuma. We watched the bus continue on without us and hailed another cab. Twenty more billed-by-the-kilometre minutes later, and we finally arrived. Luckily Montezuma's been a great place with varied cuisine, natural attractions within walking distance, good surf, and a fun night life. We've enjoyed our time here, which was made even sweeter by the (typical) tribultations we endured to get here.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
...of Mice and Men (and Women)
Onto the next chapter of our travels...
We arrived in Costa Rica yesterday at 2pm CST (2 hours behind EST). Our route took us from Toronto to Miami (we've been in Miami's airport 3 times within the last 5 months now) and we flew out of Pearson at 6:15am. Needless to say Robyn and I were both zombies yesterday. Our connection left Miami to San Jose, Costa Rica at 1pm and arrived in Costa at 1:30, the time zones affecting the arrival. A quick shuttle ride (arranged before departure) and we checked into our hostel, to promptly crash and nap for the next three hours.
Today we're meeting up with the rest of our jolly gang for the next few weeks: Ashley, Scott, and Chris. Ashley few into the area today and Scott and Chris have been in country for the better part of the last week. They'll get to the hostel later this evening.
We plan to spend 3 weeks touring Costa, spending the majority of the time on the Western, Pacific, coast, but first we will be heading North to Tortugero for a couple nights. From there we'll head back through central Costa near Monte Verde on our way to Montezuma and other beaches along the coast. We're going to stay as a group for a while but eventually Chris must return to San Jose to fly out and then a few days later Scott and Ash depart also.
Robyn and I will continue on though: although the timing is flexible by design we'll be flying from Costa down to Ecuador to explore the country for a bit. Also of importance off the coast of Ecuador is the Galapagos Islands, which was one of the reasons for our travels. After our time in Ecuador (3 weeks?) we'll go further South to Peru in order to visit Machu Picchu and the rest of the country. We plan to commit to three more weeks or so in Peru, which takes us to our currently-scheduled return date of October 5.
Everything sounds like quite a whirlwind right now, and it will likely end up that way too, but we're very excited about it all and I look forward to sharing as much as I can with everyone.
I'm off to drink a beer now on the patio of our hostel. Things are starting out rough.
We arrived in Costa Rica yesterday at 2pm CST (2 hours behind EST). Our route took us from Toronto to Miami (we've been in Miami's airport 3 times within the last 5 months now) and we flew out of Pearson at 6:15am. Needless to say Robyn and I were both zombies yesterday. Our connection left Miami to San Jose, Costa Rica at 1pm and arrived in Costa at 1:30, the time zones affecting the arrival. A quick shuttle ride (arranged before departure) and we checked into our hostel, to promptly crash and nap for the next three hours.
Today we're meeting up with the rest of our jolly gang for the next few weeks: Ashley, Scott, and Chris. Ashley few into the area today and Scott and Chris have been in country for the better part of the last week. They'll get to the hostel later this evening.
We plan to spend 3 weeks touring Costa, spending the majority of the time on the Western, Pacific, coast, but first we will be heading North to Tortugero for a couple nights. From there we'll head back through central Costa near Monte Verde on our way to Montezuma and other beaches along the coast. We're going to stay as a group for a while but eventually Chris must return to San Jose to fly out and then a few days later Scott and Ash depart also.
Robyn and I will continue on though: although the timing is flexible by design we'll be flying from Costa down to Ecuador to explore the country for a bit. Also of importance off the coast of Ecuador is the Galapagos Islands, which was one of the reasons for our travels. After our time in Ecuador (3 weeks?) we'll go further South to Peru in order to visit Machu Picchu and the rest of the country. We plan to commit to three more weeks or so in Peru, which takes us to our currently-scheduled return date of October 5.
Everything sounds like quite a whirlwind right now, and it will likely end up that way too, but we're very excited about it all and I look forward to sharing as much as I can with everyone.
I'm off to drink a beer now on the patio of our hostel. Things are starting out rough.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Summer Teeth are Smilin'
Having returned to Canada on June 21st and flying today, July 23rd, back down to Costa Rica, Robyn and I spent just over a month at home, and we loved every minute of it. At the time of our return we were excited to see familiar faces, speak our native tongue, eat more-familiar fare, and regain our strength, and we feel that we were able to accomplish all this and then some. While in Guatemala we talked (often) about the various things that we would do within our brief taste of a summer of freedom in Markham, and when we got home we tried to knock as many of the items off the list of to-dos as possible.
Robyn (and her 'I have to take my job home every night so I deserve the summer's off') aside, I have not been able to enjoy any portion of a summer without the unyielding presence of a job since I was 13. At 14 my parents drove me to various golf courses in order for me to start my short-lived career as one of the best cart-boys in the GTA. When I reflect on the things I chose to do with my summer of unappreciated freedom at 13 and compare it with how we spent this past month, I recognize that not a lot has changed. In my first teenage year my family still owned a cottage and I was playing competitive baseball all around the province, and these two activities dominated my summers. It's funny to see that, now given a chance to return to a employment-free lifestyle, I still gravitate to the same two summer pasttimes. But having a driver's licence and access to a vehicle has expanded my range...
During the month at home I was able to:
- Spend three weekends (8 nights total) at friends' cottages (a giant thank-you goes out to the McDonough family and Reid family and Chilvers family for making all that happen)
- Play 4 games of baseball for Da Beers. We went 1-3 but I am comfortable with my contribution
- Play 2 games of 3 on 3 hockey with Robyn's brother Aaron
- Play ball hockey once
- Go for 1 run
- Take numerous saunas
- Walk Robyn's dogs 5 times
- Overthink the items that I should include in this list
Sports and activities aside, Robyn and I also made a point to re-engage as members of the Markham libraries, take long, lazy breakfasts, house/apartment hunt on the Danforth, shop for natural foods and funky clothes at Kensington, and spend time with family and friends.
We were able to celebrate (in chronological order):
- Ryan Steane's annual date-of-birth extravaganza
- The glorious wedding of Lauren and Adam Segal
- Aaron Fluxgold's birthday
- The arrival of my new second-cousin Maella (congrats again Sara and Marlon)
- Robyn's stool sample results returning 'tropical disease free'
Most of all Robyn and I were grateful for the chance to spend time with our family and friends, though, as all of the activities above would mean little without them. Travelling allows us to see and share experiences with each other that we will hold onto for the rest of our lives, but without a great group of people to regale these adventures to they would lose some of their lustre.
Robyn (and her 'I have to take my job home every night so I deserve the summer's off') aside, I have not been able to enjoy any portion of a summer without the unyielding presence of a job since I was 13. At 14 my parents drove me to various golf courses in order for me to start my short-lived career as one of the best cart-boys in the GTA. When I reflect on the things I chose to do with my summer of unappreciated freedom at 13 and compare it with how we spent this past month, I recognize that not a lot has changed. In my first teenage year my family still owned a cottage and I was playing competitive baseball all around the province, and these two activities dominated my summers. It's funny to see that, now given a chance to return to a employment-free lifestyle, I still gravitate to the same two summer pasttimes. But having a driver's licence and access to a vehicle has expanded my range...
During the month at home I was able to:
- Spend three weekends (8 nights total) at friends' cottages (a giant thank-you goes out to the McDonough family and Reid family and Chilvers family for making all that happen)
- Play 4 games of baseball for Da Beers. We went 1-3 but I am comfortable with my contribution
- Play 2 games of 3 on 3 hockey with Robyn's brother Aaron
- Play ball hockey once
- Go for 1 run
- Take numerous saunas
- Walk Robyn's dogs 5 times
- Overthink the items that I should include in this list
Sports and activities aside, Robyn and I also made a point to re-engage as members of the Markham libraries, take long, lazy breakfasts, house/apartment hunt on the Danforth, shop for natural foods and funky clothes at Kensington, and spend time with family and friends.
We were able to celebrate (in chronological order):
- Ryan Steane's annual date-of-birth extravaganza
- The glorious wedding of Lauren and Adam Segal
- Aaron Fluxgold's birthday
- The arrival of my new second-cousin Maella (congrats again Sara and Marlon)
- Robyn's stool sample results returning 'tropical disease free'
Most of all Robyn and I were grateful for the chance to spend time with our family and friends, though, as all of the activities above would mean little without them. Travelling allows us to see and share experiences with each other that we will hold onto for the rest of our lives, but without a great group of people to regale these adventures to they would lose some of their lustre.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Guatemanada
Robyn and I arrived home late Monday night and we're happy to be back. In the last few days our excitement for returning to Canada eased into a bit of sentimentality for the beautiful country we were leaving. Guatemala provided stunning visuals and many lasting memories. At the same time it reminded us of how privileged we are to live in Canada and have access to the freedoms and opportunities in the Great White North. As a tribute to both countries I've compiled two lists - first, the things that we'll miss from Guatemala and secondly, the aspects of Canada that our time abroad has allowed us to gain a further appreciation for:
Things we'll miss from Guatemala:
- pineapple and all fruit in general
- the friendly people greeting each other (and us) each time they passed in the streets
- fresh coffee
- eating a full meal for two for $7
- looks of shock and admiration as we tower over the locals
- lush vegetation and magnificent natural surroundings
- Guatemalan 'First week of April' weather (although we've been missing this since the first week of April)
- Conversion rates giving the illusion of abundant wealth
- Watching Robyn pull a 'Dukes of Hazzard' out my bedroom window to use the bathroom in the evenings
Things we now appreciate more about Canada:
- Flushing toilet paper down the toilet (and not having to put it into the garbage can)
- Strict 'no chickens in the house' policies
- safe drinking water
- hot water/ showering daily
- organized policing
- public transportation adhering to seating capacities
- team sports, other than soccer
- our friends, who we can now see are distinctly not crazy
- roofing that is impervious to rain
- stationary street vendors who are not selling machetes or cashews
- no inclination to refried beans
- plantain scarcity
- beds that include a mattress and not just a box spring (although the moldy sheets provide a strange, calming aromatherapy experience)
- indoor washroom facilities, complete with door, toilet paper, and flushing mechanisms
- free will
- remote geographic proximity to volcanoes, hurricane alleys, and fault lines
...and there you have it; a complete, scientific, unbiased, balanced presentation of the two countries.
We're home now for three weeks, but that won't stop me from writing...
Things we'll miss from Guatemala:
- pineapple and all fruit in general
- the friendly people greeting each other (and us) each time they passed in the streets
- fresh coffee
- eating a full meal for two for $7
- looks of shock and admiration as we tower over the locals
- lush vegetation and magnificent natural surroundings
- Guatemalan 'First week of April' weather (although we've been missing this since the first week of April)
- Conversion rates giving the illusion of abundant wealth
- Watching Robyn pull a 'Dukes of Hazzard' out my bedroom window to use the bathroom in the evenings
Things we now appreciate more about Canada:
- Flushing toilet paper down the toilet (and not having to put it into the garbage can)
- Strict 'no chickens in the house' policies
- safe drinking water
- hot water/ showering daily
- organized policing
- public transportation adhering to seating capacities
- team sports, other than soccer
- our friends, who we can now see are distinctly not crazy
- roofing that is impervious to rain
- stationary street vendors who are not selling machetes or cashews
- no inclination to refried beans
- plantain scarcity
- beds that include a mattress and not just a box spring (although the moldy sheets provide a strange, calming aromatherapy experience)
- indoor washroom facilities, complete with door, toilet paper, and flushing mechanisms
- free will
- remote geographic proximity to volcanoes, hurricane alleys, and fault lines
...and there you have it; a complete, scientific, unbiased, balanced presentation of the two countries.
We're home now for three weeks, but that won't stop me from writing...
Monday, June 14, 2010
Getting out of the Projects
Our expedition ended on Saturday morning, marking the final day of the 10-week-long adventure that was our time with Soul Projects. I have written a great deal about the activities and environments Robyn and I encountered over the past two and a half months, and briefly touched on the people that we spent the majority of our time with. It is fair to say that if you throw 5 strangers into a pressure-filled, lifestyle-altering situation, there are bound to be fireworks and our time was no exception. We went through some extreme highs and lows within the (nearly) 80 days but we can now say that we've emerged through the other side and are extremely proud of ourselves for the accomplishment. The expedition is meant to be a challenge and I believe that if you're not struggling you're not learning, so in retrospect the hurdles we faced were exactly what we signed up for. Prior to the trip Robyn and I knew that it was going to be one of the most difficult things we had embarked on, and our prophecy was accurate, but we had no notion beforehand of what form the challenges would take. Suffice to say that we did not predict the type of difficulties that we were to battle through (or all of the weather- and crime-related episodes) but that's what helped us grow.
For anyone who was keeping close track of the intended duration of the trip, you may notice that we actually ended the expedition 3 days earlier than expected. This means that today, instead of writing this, we would still be in the forest (again, in the rain). The original calendar, outlined by Soul Projects, had us going into the forest as usual for the 5th-9th, then back in San Marcos for the 10th and 11th, and back to the forest for the final 3 days of the expedition, which would be from the 12th to 15th. Also worth noting is that the final trip of three days in the forest is typically done in complete silence. This outline was changed, though, when us volunteers decided a week ago that the final trip into the forest was not something that we would be taking part in. Reminding ourselves that we were 'volunteers', we discussed the fact that we were not excited about this final trip and we did not wish to take part, all of which were well within our rights. Our rationale for this decision was that we have all gone through a lot over the past 10 weeks and had plenty to reflect and learn from. We also felt that the constant rain posed a health and safety concern. Above all, though, we felt that the expedition had already come to its natural end and the final trip into the forest was unneccessary and redundant, especially if it was intended to be in silence. We explained our decision and reasoning to the staff during the previous forest trip and they understood our position. Thus, the journey came to its (more natural) abbreviated end on Saturday morning.
The five of us gathered for a final meal together on Friday for lunch, on Soul Projects, at a local eatery in San Marcos. Everyone was looking forward to the freedom that was soon to be upon us but we all realized that the people that we had lived so closely with for the past 80 days was about to disband. Although the group would not classify itself as 5 peas in a pod, we did all learn and grow together (and we all took pees in the same ditch, which could bond even the worst enemies) and so we were nostalgic for the end of our time together.
Friday night was spent back at the homestays for a final dinner and a somewhat sleepless night, as visions of sugary cocktails danced in our heads. Saturday morning we had a final meal with our homestays, packed up our stuff for the last time and walked down the hills and out of San Marcos (for ever?). We said our farewells to the staff and handed in our feedback forms, which all of the volunteers spent a considerable amount of time on. Although we were once again weighed down by our completely full backpacks we all felt a sense of lightness as a result of our reclaimed freedom. We had all dreamt about the boat ride from San Marcos to nearby Panajachel during the previous weeks and we were soon aboard that mythical vessel as we sailed towards the conclusion it represented. Smiles were plentiful, and continue to be.
Although this sounds as if we were holding our breath to escape some sort of incarceration, it is important for me to clarify that both Robyn and I reflect on our time with Soul Projects as one of the most life changing periods in our young lives. We acknowledge that our time here has allowed us to do some incredible things while in a beautiful environment, but we faced some real challenges and were forced to adapt to them. We have both undergone incredible changes and made honest realizations about ourselves, our relationship, and our future. The expedition is like anything that is worthwhile: while you are within the task you struggle and thrash, looking forward to the completion of the trails and tribulations. But, when the expedition was nearing completion, we found ourselves reflecting all of the times (both good and bad) and came to understand just how imporant all of the hardships we faced were. We came to appreciate the personalities that we interacted with and realized that these people were put into our lives for very obvious reasons. The confrontations and disagreements we had have shed light on the way we interact with others and have helped us grow more closely into the people want to be.
For anyone who was keeping close track of the intended duration of the trip, you may notice that we actually ended the expedition 3 days earlier than expected. This means that today, instead of writing this, we would still be in the forest (again, in the rain). The original calendar, outlined by Soul Projects, had us going into the forest as usual for the 5th-9th, then back in San Marcos for the 10th and 11th, and back to the forest for the final 3 days of the expedition, which would be from the 12th to 15th. Also worth noting is that the final trip of three days in the forest is typically done in complete silence. This outline was changed, though, when us volunteers decided a week ago that the final trip into the forest was not something that we would be taking part in. Reminding ourselves that we were 'volunteers', we discussed the fact that we were not excited about this final trip and we did not wish to take part, all of which were well within our rights. Our rationale for this decision was that we have all gone through a lot over the past 10 weeks and had plenty to reflect and learn from. We also felt that the constant rain posed a health and safety concern. Above all, though, we felt that the expedition had already come to its natural end and the final trip into the forest was unneccessary and redundant, especially if it was intended to be in silence. We explained our decision and reasoning to the staff during the previous forest trip and they understood our position. Thus, the journey came to its (more natural) abbreviated end on Saturday morning.
The five of us gathered for a final meal together on Friday for lunch, on Soul Projects, at a local eatery in San Marcos. Everyone was looking forward to the freedom that was soon to be upon us but we all realized that the people that we had lived so closely with for the past 80 days was about to disband. Although the group would not classify itself as 5 peas in a pod, we did all learn and grow together (and we all took pees in the same ditch, which could bond even the worst enemies) and so we were nostalgic for the end of our time together.
Friday night was spent back at the homestays for a final dinner and a somewhat sleepless night, as visions of sugary cocktails danced in our heads. Saturday morning we had a final meal with our homestays, packed up our stuff for the last time and walked down the hills and out of San Marcos (for ever?). We said our farewells to the staff and handed in our feedback forms, which all of the volunteers spent a considerable amount of time on. Although we were once again weighed down by our completely full backpacks we all felt a sense of lightness as a result of our reclaimed freedom. We had all dreamt about the boat ride from San Marcos to nearby Panajachel during the previous weeks and we were soon aboard that mythical vessel as we sailed towards the conclusion it represented. Smiles were plentiful, and continue to be.
Although this sounds as if we were holding our breath to escape some sort of incarceration, it is important for me to clarify that both Robyn and I reflect on our time with Soul Projects as one of the most life changing periods in our young lives. We acknowledge that our time here has allowed us to do some incredible things while in a beautiful environment, but we faced some real challenges and were forced to adapt to them. We have both undergone incredible changes and made honest realizations about ourselves, our relationship, and our future. The expedition is like anything that is worthwhile: while you are within the task you struggle and thrash, looking forward to the completion of the trails and tribulations. But, when the expedition was nearing completion, we found ourselves reflecting all of the times (both good and bad) and came to understand just how imporant all of the hardships we faced were. We came to appreciate the personalities that we interacted with and realized that these people were put into our lives for very obvious reasons. The confrontations and disagreements we had have shed light on the way we interact with others and have helped us grow more closely into the people want to be.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Dark for Ages
I am writing this under the glow of a candle because we have, yet again, lost power. Okay, technically I am writing this under the glow of the computer screen but the thought of writing something by hand and then transposing it seems far too archaic, even despite the near-biblical proportions of the last few days.
It is rain here. It has stopped ‘raining’ and has become a location all its own, similar to when someone says, “Hi, we’re in Delaware” I can say that right now I am in Rain, Guatemala. It has poured, non stop, for three days straight. I know that we are not quite at the defined biblical duration, but I could easily see this storm being mentioned at least in those brief brochures that Jehovah’s witnesses hand out. The roads are all flooded and the catch basins look like someone mixed up millions of litres of chocolate milk and then possessed the batch with the devil. We have been without power for 4 hours this instance, and I have no idea how long we’ll be without it.
The good news:
- we have become accustomed to being without electricity and, besides my computer, only use it for lighting. Considering we both have decent flashlights, we are able to cope.
- I am writing this on a Saturday afternoon, which would typically be impossible because my computer is not allowed into the forest and we usually venture out into nature from Saturday morning to Wednesday afternoon. Last Monday, while under the tarps in the rainy forest, we proposed to the staff a change in schedule that would see us skip the current forest trip in order to see more of the sights around the Lake, which are difficult to see within the pre-ordained itinerary. With some cajoling of their boss (the ‘visionary’ of this expedition) the staff was able to persuade Mark that we should forego the forest, hence I have a tin roof over my head and I am able to write
- If I have posted this it is because power has been restored to the town and to the internet sites. There’s a strange conflux of time going on as I write this sentence now.
- We have also avoided some of the other Acts of God that have besieged the area...
Near Antigua, the old capital city of Guatemala, there is an active volcano. This volcano typically emits a constant volcanic plume and cascading lava flow which gave geologists some assurance that pressure build-up is within control and an eruption is less likely. This volcano is a popular tourist attraction and we had planned to walk up its slopes when we toured the area nearer the end of June. We have been told that he lava flow, especially while aglow at night, is stunning. Apparently, though, earlier in the week there were signs that something was amiss with the volcano and these warning signs prompted officials to close the paths leading up to and down the volcano. Everyone’s fears were realized on Thursday when Volcano Pacaya did erupt. We have had scarce reports up to now (I have had limited internet access since Thursday, and also, the no-power thing) but the last we heard they feared 65 people were dead. I do not wish to make light of this tradegy, but I am glad that the eruption was somewhat foreseen and I can only assume that lives were saved. I also hope, though, that they reopen the paths before we get there because I really wanted to see this lava flow. I am kidding mom(s).
I gave a link to the weather forecast for the area and I hope, by the time you click on it, that the rain has moved on. When I look at the forecast all I can see is storms and thunderstorms. If, when you look at it, there is still no sign of clear skies, then I believe we can both agree that this is the beginning of the 2012 prophecy and we are likely to be either washed away as sinners or gathered up amongst God’s chosen people and asked to board Noa’s (it’s way hipper without the H, and it’s more 21st century) catamaran. [Sidenote: please don’t comment pointing out that Noah collected animals, because I know that. If you’re here looking for accuracy in fables (oxymoron (triple parenthesis’ score!)) then you have ventured onto the wrong blog.]
Long story short – Robyn and I are wet but we’re fine. At least we’re not in the forest through all this.
It is rain here. It has stopped ‘raining’ and has become a location all its own, similar to when someone says, “Hi, we’re in Delaware” I can say that right now I am in Rain, Guatemala. It has poured, non stop, for three days straight. I know that we are not quite at the defined biblical duration, but I could easily see this storm being mentioned at least in those brief brochures that Jehovah’s witnesses hand out. The roads are all flooded and the catch basins look like someone mixed up millions of litres of chocolate milk and then possessed the batch with the devil. We have been without power for 4 hours this instance, and I have no idea how long we’ll be without it.
The good news:
- we have become accustomed to being without electricity and, besides my computer, only use it for lighting. Considering we both have decent flashlights, we are able to cope.
- I am writing this on a Saturday afternoon, which would typically be impossible because my computer is not allowed into the forest and we usually venture out into nature from Saturday morning to Wednesday afternoon. Last Monday, while under the tarps in the rainy forest, we proposed to the staff a change in schedule that would see us skip the current forest trip in order to see more of the sights around the Lake, which are difficult to see within the pre-ordained itinerary. With some cajoling of their boss (the ‘visionary’ of this expedition) the staff was able to persuade Mark that we should forego the forest, hence I have a tin roof over my head and I am able to write
- If I have posted this it is because power has been restored to the town and to the internet sites. There’s a strange conflux of time going on as I write this sentence now.
- We have also avoided some of the other Acts of God that have besieged the area...
Near Antigua, the old capital city of Guatemala, there is an active volcano. This volcano typically emits a constant volcanic plume and cascading lava flow which gave geologists some assurance that pressure build-up is within control and an eruption is less likely. This volcano is a popular tourist attraction and we had planned to walk up its slopes when we toured the area nearer the end of June. We have been told that he lava flow, especially while aglow at night, is stunning. Apparently, though, earlier in the week there were signs that something was amiss with the volcano and these warning signs prompted officials to close the paths leading up to and down the volcano. Everyone’s fears were realized on Thursday when Volcano Pacaya did erupt. We have had scarce reports up to now (I have had limited internet access since Thursday, and also, the no-power thing) but the last we heard they feared 65 people were dead. I do not wish to make light of this tradegy, but I am glad that the eruption was somewhat foreseen and I can only assume that lives were saved. I also hope, though, that they reopen the paths before we get there because I really wanted to see this lava flow. I am kidding mom(s).
I gave a link to the weather forecast for the area and I hope, by the time you click on it, that the rain has moved on. When I look at the forecast all I can see is storms and thunderstorms. If, when you look at it, there is still no sign of clear skies, then I believe we can both agree that this is the beginning of the 2012 prophecy and we are likely to be either washed away as sinners or gathered up amongst God’s chosen people and asked to board Noa’s (it’s way hipper without the H, and it’s more 21st century) catamaran. [Sidenote: please don’t comment pointing out that Noah collected animals, because I know that. If you’re here looking for accuracy in fables (oxymoron (triple parenthesis’ score!)) then you have ventured onto the wrong blog.]
Long story short – Robyn and I are wet but we’re fine. At least we’re not in the forest through all this.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Life is a Beautiful, Strong, Opininated Woman
We have been back from the beach now for two weeks, but I took a week off from writing so now I’ll catch everyone up. The beach we went to was near Iztapa which is on the Pacific coast at the very Southern end of Guatemala. It would typically be a 5 hour drive from Lake Atitlan to this area, but, as usual, we don’t seem to want to follow the norm...
Our chartered ‘bus’ was scheduled to leave Panahachel at 9am on the Saturday the 8th. ‘Pana’ is a 30 minute boat ride from San Marcos so this meant an early morning for us all in order to get there on time. We got off the boat in Pana and waited at the designated pickup point for our driver, Cruz. In reflection, this is quite an ironic name for a driver, and even more ironic was the fact that his driving style was to avoid his namesake at all costs. We left Pana shortly after 9 and were flying out of town as soon as we were strapped in. The van had three rows of bench seats in the back and a roof rack where our bags travelled. Cruz also had installed a thumping sound system, and Robyn and I, being the first aboard, chose the back seats for the journey, which was a mistake. I am reasonably sure that this car was equipped so as to produce enough noise for Helen Keller to enjoy the record selection. And it was wired such that the back seat was the epicentre of low frequency emissions. Our trip was akin to someone slipping a bass drum over our heads and beating the thing for hours on end.
This would’ve been distracting had Cruz’s driving style not been a merge of Indy car and video game. I have never seen a large vehicle pushed to its limits (but just barely not over them) in an effort to arrive in ‘good time’. And I drove a Previa and made the most out of it. Cruz was darting around anything that he could manage to swerve around, regardless of its weight, size, or literal horsepower. Even more impressive was his ability to field music requests while passing an eighteen wheeler going up a blind curve. The man was on a mission. We had brief stops along the way for plantain chips, coconuts, and fresh fruit, and arrived in the beach town around 1pm. I must say that, despite some hairy moments, the trip was just fantastic enough to be enjoyable and the time flew.
We got out of the car and immediately appreciated the effect that elevation has on weather patterns. San Marcos and the whole lake is at an extreme elevation. It is supposedly the highest elevated freshwater lake in Central America (although that doesn’t really stir up images of grandeur in my mind either) and this elevation leads to a climate that is cooler and more temperate, where the rains clear our any humidity and the sun shines warmly. By the time we got down to the beach we had dropped from this elevated state to sea level, and then we got a taste for the true Guatemalan climate: the sun was like staring at a glowing element while inside an oven, the volcanic sand held heat better than burnt popcorn kernels, and it was more humid than a Russian bathhouse. I immediately began to sweat, and did not stop until 9 days later, when we left. En route we were all dreaming of working on our tans and feeling some warmth after weeks in the rainy forest, but our arrival helped us quickly realized that this was not a climate to trifle with and we sought shelter with haste.
Brooke led us to our home for the next week and a bit – a seemingly abandoned beach-side building that was erected by the Guatemalan ministry of natural resources. It is typically used to collect and help nurture the sea turtle population in the area and prevent poaching. When the turtles lay their eggs on the beach, workers collect the eggs and incubate them in a fenced-in sanded area that is within the boundaries of the structure. This way poachers can’t easily dig the up and sell them, which is a thriving business in Guatemala. The structure included two concrete rooms with no doors and no furniture, a broken toilet with no roof and a working shower, also without cover. There was running water out of a shin-high tap and a series of poles from which we hung our hammocks and declared our ‘bedrooms’ for the trip. I borrowed a hammock from someone in San Marcos because Robyn and I only brought down one hammock between us. This actually worked out well because the hammock I used was a much better size for me. As an aside, both Robyn and I broke her hammock on separate occasions: I was sitting on hers one afternoon reading a book in front of me when the rope holding me up snapped. I hurled the great 4 foot distance to the ground and somehow managed to absorb all of the impact with my elbows. I am pretty sure I went into shock but maybe I just overreacted. Either way it hurt a lot. When Robyn took the same plunge she was just about to fully lied down when the rope snapped again, but she fell with a pillow under her head and did not seem to hurt herself in the least. With our hammocks in place it became quite clear that there was little in the way of seating in the whole area: the structure had roughly-poured concrete flooring and there were no seats in sight. The sand was an option except for the scorching heat and lack of shade. Regardless, we used our hammocks for all reclining activities and it wasn’t so bad. We had a beautiful view of the ocean, which was 50 feet away, and no one had to work the next day, so we had it pretty sweet.
Our first day was spent setting up and settling down, including fixing the toilet and having a few swims. The beach was dark grey volcanic sand that was quite unique and very hot. The beach was a steep grade but rockless and the surf was big, strong, and relentless. I thoroughly enjoyed playing in the waves but I think it was a little intimidating for most of the rest of the group. Thanks to family vacations and to my brother for sibling-rivalrying me into playing in the ocean, I felt quite at home. Surprisingly, the beach was deserted and there weren’t many buildings in the area, let alone a hotel or tourist industry. Apparently the fact that it was down season, combined with another, more popular beach in the area, created a sort of ghost town of our beachfront. It was a strange, desolate feeling.
The first night we ventured into the surrounding village to check out the sights and sounds. The village was quite small (fruit and vegetables arrive twice-weekly via boats) but included a small school and 5 corner stores. The centre of town was a basketball court with some covered stands, which on the first night was doubling as a small soccer pitch for organized games of 5 on 5. It appeared that neighbouring towns had sent representative teams because the games did not last very long and there were quite a few different jerseys represented, all playing each other in round robin style. Robyn and I bought some snacks at the nearby shop and watched for a while. The guys who were playing were quite skilled, and we were amazed by the amount of physical contact – they may as well have been throwing hip checks on each other. Once we had had our fill we went down to the beach to take a night walk, which became a ritual, and watched the crabs dart out of their holes and scamper through the surf. They ranged in size from barely noticeable to about the size of a baseball, and could really move. As we walked each night we tried to avoid the numerous bunkers they all stayed in within the sand but invariably we would step on or near an abode just as the curious occupant was about to come out. Luckily we never had any incidents with these crusty fellows and would get back to our beds each night without injury.
Sleeping in a hammock is a new experience for me. Sleeping in a hammock while sweating profusely from the humidity takes this novel event to a whole new level. Once the sun set each evening the gentle breeze that blew off the water all day held its breath, and the humidity was allowed to set in like a thick fog. Walking, talking, and even eating led to perspiration, and I resorted to showering right before bed in order to cool down, but this still did not save me. To make matters more interesting, the lack of wind gave the mosquitoes a chance to sniff around and so we had to take shelter under mosquito nets or risk waking up with an abundance of itchy constellations all over our bodies. When I eventually did get settled into my hammock, under the net, I would usually read for an hour or two because of the early timeframe that we would typically retire at. This was my favourite time of the day – it was quiet and I was within my own little cocoon, away from the thirsty insects and inside my books. Sleeping in the hammock was bearable, and I got better at it as the week went on, but I still have rug burn on my hips and I am not going to make it a typical sleeping style anytime soon.
Each morning we’d wake at 6:30 in order to do yoga from 7-9. The workforce of insects switched from the night watch of the mosquitoes to the morning shift of the swarming fleas. These were terribly annoying, especially when we were holding difficult yoga positions and you were forced to sit and watch these pests huddle around your ankles, or hands, or even your eyes. They seemed to have an affinity for my eyeballs. Regardless, we got to watch the sun rise each morning from the neighbouring yoga chalet as we went through our practice, which was quite a spiritual experience.
After hot yoga and cold oatmeal (making a fire at that time of the day would’ve been death) we were pretty much free until meditation at 5pm. We spent the days suntanning, listening to music, and reading a lot. We’d go for walks through town and up and down the beach and generally had a very relaxing time. We did take a couple opportunities to go into the local school and help lead some arts and crafts lessons but for the most part we were on our own. One of my favourite aspects of the setup was the freshwater shower. After spending time in the sun, sand, surf, sweat, and saltspray, I would often trek to the tumbling tap and, under the uncovered stall, wash everything off. The water was sourced from a water tank in the centre of town and would come out of the tap almost as hot as a shower at home, despite the fact that no artificial heat is applied to it. My favourite part of the whole experience was that, as it poured out from above, the water would splash off and spray in all directions and, because there was no roof, the sun would catch these water particles and create magnificent rainbows all around while you showered. It was like bathing within a prism, and was quite the experience. (At this point I would like to remind everyone that the expedition does not condone the use of alcohol or other illicit substances, and I adhere to the policies of the expedition wholeheartedly.)
We did manage to break up one of the days with a surfing lesson from the guys at the small ‘surf school’ next door. With no sign and hidden surfboards, you’d be hard pressed to know that it was a school, but we spoke to a few foreigners who stayed there for periods of time and it was actually a legitimate business. They even had a website, which means you know they’re good. We scheduled and cancelled a few different days but eventually got ourselves organized for lessons for both Robyn and I. We were led out to the surf mid-morning, when the tide was low, by two Spanish-speaking local guys and two well used surfboards. The fact that neither spoke any English created a bit of hesitation but the lack of better options proved to be the trump card. After a quick lesson on the beach (think of the lesson within ‘Forgetting Sarah Marshall’ and if you haven’t seen the movie, go rent it and come back to read the rest. I’ll wait.) we were walked into the whitewash to practice our newfound skills. When a suitable ‘wave’ rolled in we would align ourselves and start paddling, while at the same time the instructor would push us with the wave’s momentum in order to get us started. Robyn got up much sooner and more often than I did, but I would like to explain why. When learning to surf, the larger the board you’re on, generally the more success you’ll have. With a larger board the weight is spread over larger surface area and balance is easier to achieve. As a surfer progresses the board size is reduced in order to facilitate manoeuvrability and responsiveness. Robyn and I were both riding the same size board, but I am considerably larger than she, so she had one advantage. Also, when surfing, the initial speed that you’re able to create in order to ‘catch’ the wave is important, and the faster you’re able to go off the hop, the higher the chance of properly riding the crest. Because of Robyn’s petite stature her instructor was able to push her off quite well and she was skimming the surf even before the wave actually grabbed her board. On the other hand, my instructor struggled with my well-proportioned mass and so I was ploughing through the water before I even had an opportunity to stand up. I know he exhausted himself trying to push me around in the water, but I felt like I had an anchor attached to my board and he was struggling to force it through the sand. Now that we’ve cleared the water in terms of Robyn’s unfair advantages, I do need to give her credit – she was awesome. She was very excited to take a lesson in the first place, having gained confidence and skill in the movements through snowboarding, and she took to surfing like an old lady to cats. She got up numerous times and was even carving some turns out before the end of the hour. I was quite proud to see her go and I know she even impressed the instructors with her success. I caught myself a few times just wanting to watch her doing her thing and likely missed out on a few waves for myself, but that’s fine. We have a long beach ahead of us for the next year and I know that I’ll get many more chances to see her ride while also getting better myself.
Fleas, mosquitoes and crabs weren’t the only wildlife that we got to encounter; we also had our own two mascot dogs which were strays from the town that decided early in our stay that they enjoyed the brand of scraps that we produced. The Spanish word for dog is Perro so obviously one of them was named Perry, while the other looked like a Rover or Rex and was called both names interchangeably. They would hang around our area all day and night and acted as our guard dogs. This was much appreciated, but their presence soon caused some problems. The first trouble they literally brought to us each morning in the shape of hundreds of fleas, swarming their canine bodies. The dogs got in the affectionate habit of rubbing against our hammocks each day to say good morning (but mostly to scratch themselves). Imagine the thought of waking from a muggy night’s sleep, knowing that the dog that’s barraging into your hammock is covered in fleas and that these insect travellers are leaving their four legged train in order to rest within the fibres of your hammock. Gag. As if this wasn’t enough, the dog’s were clearly the town bullies: we’d go for walks through the village and the dogs would obiediantly follow us unprovoked. This sounds cute except for the fact that our walking companions would harass ANYTHING in town that they outweighed or outnumbered. Nothing was safe from their intimidation tactics – not children, other dogs, or even the many pigs that roamed the village. It became embarrassing to be associated with these dogs and we would spend a good portion of our walks apologizing to the locals for their behaviour and calling out to them scornfully in English, addressing them by names that we had just made up a few days prior. It would’ve been comical had it not been so frustrating. The situation got to the point that, near the last day, our dogs had cornered and attacked a chicken that belonged to the neighbour. They pounced on it and I thought for sure had killed the thing, but the chicken sprung back up onto its feet and scurried away at its first opportunity. The neighbour, already upset with all of the barking that these mutts did at anyone who walked in our area, saw the attack and came over afterwards to speak with us. Brooke, being the only one fluent in Spanish, jumped up to calm his nerves. After the conversation, she sheepishly returned to the group and let us know that the neighbour had offered to get his shotgun in order to permanently silence the dogs, but she was able to persuade him that they would cause no further trouble. As bad as this all sounds, the dogs showed their true stripes on the morning of our departure. They had obviously grown quite attached to us and the small amount of affection we showed them because they followed us through the town on our walk out in order to see us off. As we boarded the boat to leave for good one of the dogs, which we had never seen even close to the ocean, jumped into the river (the beach was a peninsula between a freshwater river and the salty ocean) and began to swim alongside our boat. The poor dog swam for as long as he could beside our boat until we were too far off and he could no longer keep up. This act of bravery and loyalty endeared him to us all forever and, despite all of their idiocies, we all loved those dogs.
All in all, the beach was a great time. It was a definite change of scenery from what we had experienced to date and allowed us more free time to read and reflect on what we are here to learn about. Although, if I could create the itinerary, I would cut the duration by a few days, we had a lovely time and made the most of our days under the sun. Robyn may have exposed herself a little too much to the sun and incurred an unrequested full-body peel, but that’s part of doing business at the beach. By the time the last night rolled around we were all quite ready to head home, but we all learned a lot while living beside each other in the hammocks.
All this being said, this is also the setting for Robyn and my descent into more severe health issues and the straw that broke the camel’s back and led to a group intervention for one member of the team. You see, despite my efforts to include the emotions that we feel in relation to our surroundings, I have yet to regale everyone with the human dynamic that is living within a group of five strangers (except Robyn, I still know her well). But, now that all the environment that we have lived in have been suitably discussed, I will turn our attention to the human element, which has been interesting to say the least...
Our chartered ‘bus’ was scheduled to leave Panahachel at 9am on the Saturday the 8th. ‘Pana’ is a 30 minute boat ride from San Marcos so this meant an early morning for us all in order to get there on time. We got off the boat in Pana and waited at the designated pickup point for our driver, Cruz. In reflection, this is quite an ironic name for a driver, and even more ironic was the fact that his driving style was to avoid his namesake at all costs. We left Pana shortly after 9 and were flying out of town as soon as we were strapped in. The van had three rows of bench seats in the back and a roof rack where our bags travelled. Cruz also had installed a thumping sound system, and Robyn and I, being the first aboard, chose the back seats for the journey, which was a mistake. I am reasonably sure that this car was equipped so as to produce enough noise for Helen Keller to enjoy the record selection. And it was wired such that the back seat was the epicentre of low frequency emissions. Our trip was akin to someone slipping a bass drum over our heads and beating the thing for hours on end.
This would’ve been distracting had Cruz’s driving style not been a merge of Indy car and video game. I have never seen a large vehicle pushed to its limits (but just barely not over them) in an effort to arrive in ‘good time’. And I drove a Previa and made the most out of it. Cruz was darting around anything that he could manage to swerve around, regardless of its weight, size, or literal horsepower. Even more impressive was his ability to field music requests while passing an eighteen wheeler going up a blind curve. The man was on a mission. We had brief stops along the way for plantain chips, coconuts, and fresh fruit, and arrived in the beach town around 1pm. I must say that, despite some hairy moments, the trip was just fantastic enough to be enjoyable and the time flew.
We got out of the car and immediately appreciated the effect that elevation has on weather patterns. San Marcos and the whole lake is at an extreme elevation. It is supposedly the highest elevated freshwater lake in Central America (although that doesn’t really stir up images of grandeur in my mind either) and this elevation leads to a climate that is cooler and more temperate, where the rains clear our any humidity and the sun shines warmly. By the time we got down to the beach we had dropped from this elevated state to sea level, and then we got a taste for the true Guatemalan climate: the sun was like staring at a glowing element while inside an oven, the volcanic sand held heat better than burnt popcorn kernels, and it was more humid than a Russian bathhouse. I immediately began to sweat, and did not stop until 9 days later, when we left. En route we were all dreaming of working on our tans and feeling some warmth after weeks in the rainy forest, but our arrival helped us quickly realized that this was not a climate to trifle with and we sought shelter with haste.
Brooke led us to our home for the next week and a bit – a seemingly abandoned beach-side building that was erected by the Guatemalan ministry of natural resources. It is typically used to collect and help nurture the sea turtle population in the area and prevent poaching. When the turtles lay their eggs on the beach, workers collect the eggs and incubate them in a fenced-in sanded area that is within the boundaries of the structure. This way poachers can’t easily dig the up and sell them, which is a thriving business in Guatemala. The structure included two concrete rooms with no doors and no furniture, a broken toilet with no roof and a working shower, also without cover. There was running water out of a shin-high tap and a series of poles from which we hung our hammocks and declared our ‘bedrooms’ for the trip. I borrowed a hammock from someone in San Marcos because Robyn and I only brought down one hammock between us. This actually worked out well because the hammock I used was a much better size for me. As an aside, both Robyn and I broke her hammock on separate occasions: I was sitting on hers one afternoon reading a book in front of me when the rope holding me up snapped. I hurled the great 4 foot distance to the ground and somehow managed to absorb all of the impact with my elbows. I am pretty sure I went into shock but maybe I just overreacted. Either way it hurt a lot. When Robyn took the same plunge she was just about to fully lied down when the rope snapped again, but she fell with a pillow under her head and did not seem to hurt herself in the least. With our hammocks in place it became quite clear that there was little in the way of seating in the whole area: the structure had roughly-poured concrete flooring and there were no seats in sight. The sand was an option except for the scorching heat and lack of shade. Regardless, we used our hammocks for all reclining activities and it wasn’t so bad. We had a beautiful view of the ocean, which was 50 feet away, and no one had to work the next day, so we had it pretty sweet.
Our first day was spent setting up and settling down, including fixing the toilet and having a few swims. The beach was dark grey volcanic sand that was quite unique and very hot. The beach was a steep grade but rockless and the surf was big, strong, and relentless. I thoroughly enjoyed playing in the waves but I think it was a little intimidating for most of the rest of the group. Thanks to family vacations and to my brother for sibling-rivalrying me into playing in the ocean, I felt quite at home. Surprisingly, the beach was deserted and there weren’t many buildings in the area, let alone a hotel or tourist industry. Apparently the fact that it was down season, combined with another, more popular beach in the area, created a sort of ghost town of our beachfront. It was a strange, desolate feeling.
The first night we ventured into the surrounding village to check out the sights and sounds. The village was quite small (fruit and vegetables arrive twice-weekly via boats) but included a small school and 5 corner stores. The centre of town was a basketball court with some covered stands, which on the first night was doubling as a small soccer pitch for organized games of 5 on 5. It appeared that neighbouring towns had sent representative teams because the games did not last very long and there were quite a few different jerseys represented, all playing each other in round robin style. Robyn and I bought some snacks at the nearby shop and watched for a while. The guys who were playing were quite skilled, and we were amazed by the amount of physical contact – they may as well have been throwing hip checks on each other. Once we had had our fill we went down to the beach to take a night walk, which became a ritual, and watched the crabs dart out of their holes and scamper through the surf. They ranged in size from barely noticeable to about the size of a baseball, and could really move. As we walked each night we tried to avoid the numerous bunkers they all stayed in within the sand but invariably we would step on or near an abode just as the curious occupant was about to come out. Luckily we never had any incidents with these crusty fellows and would get back to our beds each night without injury.
Sleeping in a hammock is a new experience for me. Sleeping in a hammock while sweating profusely from the humidity takes this novel event to a whole new level. Once the sun set each evening the gentle breeze that blew off the water all day held its breath, and the humidity was allowed to set in like a thick fog. Walking, talking, and even eating led to perspiration, and I resorted to showering right before bed in order to cool down, but this still did not save me. To make matters more interesting, the lack of wind gave the mosquitoes a chance to sniff around and so we had to take shelter under mosquito nets or risk waking up with an abundance of itchy constellations all over our bodies. When I eventually did get settled into my hammock, under the net, I would usually read for an hour or two because of the early timeframe that we would typically retire at. This was my favourite time of the day – it was quiet and I was within my own little cocoon, away from the thirsty insects and inside my books. Sleeping in the hammock was bearable, and I got better at it as the week went on, but I still have rug burn on my hips and I am not going to make it a typical sleeping style anytime soon.
Each morning we’d wake at 6:30 in order to do yoga from 7-9. The workforce of insects switched from the night watch of the mosquitoes to the morning shift of the swarming fleas. These were terribly annoying, especially when we were holding difficult yoga positions and you were forced to sit and watch these pests huddle around your ankles, or hands, or even your eyes. They seemed to have an affinity for my eyeballs. Regardless, we got to watch the sun rise each morning from the neighbouring yoga chalet as we went through our practice, which was quite a spiritual experience.
After hot yoga and cold oatmeal (making a fire at that time of the day would’ve been death) we were pretty much free until meditation at 5pm. We spent the days suntanning, listening to music, and reading a lot. We’d go for walks through town and up and down the beach and generally had a very relaxing time. We did take a couple opportunities to go into the local school and help lead some arts and crafts lessons but for the most part we were on our own. One of my favourite aspects of the setup was the freshwater shower. After spending time in the sun, sand, surf, sweat, and saltspray, I would often trek to the tumbling tap and, under the uncovered stall, wash everything off. The water was sourced from a water tank in the centre of town and would come out of the tap almost as hot as a shower at home, despite the fact that no artificial heat is applied to it. My favourite part of the whole experience was that, as it poured out from above, the water would splash off and spray in all directions and, because there was no roof, the sun would catch these water particles and create magnificent rainbows all around while you showered. It was like bathing within a prism, and was quite the experience. (At this point I would like to remind everyone that the expedition does not condone the use of alcohol or other illicit substances, and I adhere to the policies of the expedition wholeheartedly.)
We did manage to break up one of the days with a surfing lesson from the guys at the small ‘surf school’ next door. With no sign and hidden surfboards, you’d be hard pressed to know that it was a school, but we spoke to a few foreigners who stayed there for periods of time and it was actually a legitimate business. They even had a website, which means you know they’re good. We scheduled and cancelled a few different days but eventually got ourselves organized for lessons for both Robyn and I. We were led out to the surf mid-morning, when the tide was low, by two Spanish-speaking local guys and two well used surfboards. The fact that neither spoke any English created a bit of hesitation but the lack of better options proved to be the trump card. After a quick lesson on the beach (think of the lesson within ‘Forgetting Sarah Marshall’ and if you haven’t seen the movie, go rent it and come back to read the rest. I’ll wait.) we were walked into the whitewash to practice our newfound skills. When a suitable ‘wave’ rolled in we would align ourselves and start paddling, while at the same time the instructor would push us with the wave’s momentum in order to get us started. Robyn got up much sooner and more often than I did, but I would like to explain why. When learning to surf, the larger the board you’re on, generally the more success you’ll have. With a larger board the weight is spread over larger surface area and balance is easier to achieve. As a surfer progresses the board size is reduced in order to facilitate manoeuvrability and responsiveness. Robyn and I were both riding the same size board, but I am considerably larger than she, so she had one advantage. Also, when surfing, the initial speed that you’re able to create in order to ‘catch’ the wave is important, and the faster you’re able to go off the hop, the higher the chance of properly riding the crest. Because of Robyn’s petite stature her instructor was able to push her off quite well and she was skimming the surf even before the wave actually grabbed her board. On the other hand, my instructor struggled with my well-proportioned mass and so I was ploughing through the water before I even had an opportunity to stand up. I know he exhausted himself trying to push me around in the water, but I felt like I had an anchor attached to my board and he was struggling to force it through the sand. Now that we’ve cleared the water in terms of Robyn’s unfair advantages, I do need to give her credit – she was awesome. She was very excited to take a lesson in the first place, having gained confidence and skill in the movements through snowboarding, and she took to surfing like an old lady to cats. She got up numerous times and was even carving some turns out before the end of the hour. I was quite proud to see her go and I know she even impressed the instructors with her success. I caught myself a few times just wanting to watch her doing her thing and likely missed out on a few waves for myself, but that’s fine. We have a long beach ahead of us for the next year and I know that I’ll get many more chances to see her ride while also getting better myself.
Fleas, mosquitoes and crabs weren’t the only wildlife that we got to encounter; we also had our own two mascot dogs which were strays from the town that decided early in our stay that they enjoyed the brand of scraps that we produced. The Spanish word for dog is Perro so obviously one of them was named Perry, while the other looked like a Rover or Rex and was called both names interchangeably. They would hang around our area all day and night and acted as our guard dogs. This was much appreciated, but their presence soon caused some problems. The first trouble they literally brought to us each morning in the shape of hundreds of fleas, swarming their canine bodies. The dogs got in the affectionate habit of rubbing against our hammocks each day to say good morning (but mostly to scratch themselves). Imagine the thought of waking from a muggy night’s sleep, knowing that the dog that’s barraging into your hammock is covered in fleas and that these insect travellers are leaving their four legged train in order to rest within the fibres of your hammock. Gag. As if this wasn’t enough, the dog’s were clearly the town bullies: we’d go for walks through the village and the dogs would obiediantly follow us unprovoked. This sounds cute except for the fact that our walking companions would harass ANYTHING in town that they outweighed or outnumbered. Nothing was safe from their intimidation tactics – not children, other dogs, or even the many pigs that roamed the village. It became embarrassing to be associated with these dogs and we would spend a good portion of our walks apologizing to the locals for their behaviour and calling out to them scornfully in English, addressing them by names that we had just made up a few days prior. It would’ve been comical had it not been so frustrating. The situation got to the point that, near the last day, our dogs had cornered and attacked a chicken that belonged to the neighbour. They pounced on it and I thought for sure had killed the thing, but the chicken sprung back up onto its feet and scurried away at its first opportunity. The neighbour, already upset with all of the barking that these mutts did at anyone who walked in our area, saw the attack and came over afterwards to speak with us. Brooke, being the only one fluent in Spanish, jumped up to calm his nerves. After the conversation, she sheepishly returned to the group and let us know that the neighbour had offered to get his shotgun in order to permanently silence the dogs, but she was able to persuade him that they would cause no further trouble. As bad as this all sounds, the dogs showed their true stripes on the morning of our departure. They had obviously grown quite attached to us and the small amount of affection we showed them because they followed us through the town on our walk out in order to see us off. As we boarded the boat to leave for good one of the dogs, which we had never seen even close to the ocean, jumped into the river (the beach was a peninsula between a freshwater river and the salty ocean) and began to swim alongside our boat. The poor dog swam for as long as he could beside our boat until we were too far off and he could no longer keep up. This act of bravery and loyalty endeared him to us all forever and, despite all of their idiocies, we all loved those dogs.
All in all, the beach was a great time. It was a definite change of scenery from what we had experienced to date and allowed us more free time to read and reflect on what we are here to learn about. Although, if I could create the itinerary, I would cut the duration by a few days, we had a lovely time and made the most of our days under the sun. Robyn may have exposed herself a little too much to the sun and incurred an unrequested full-body peel, but that’s part of doing business at the beach. By the time the last night rolled around we were all quite ready to head home, but we all learned a lot while living beside each other in the hammocks.
All this being said, this is also the setting for Robyn and my descent into more severe health issues and the straw that broke the camel’s back and led to a group intervention for one member of the team. You see, despite my efforts to include the emotions that we feel in relation to our surroundings, I have yet to regale everyone with the human dynamic that is living within a group of five strangers (except Robyn, I still know her well). But, now that all the environment that we have lived in have been suitably discussed, I will turn our attention to the human element, which has been interesting to say the least...
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