Paul and Marie

So it has certainly been awhile, Mar 19th in fact and I apologize for tardiness, but things have moved from tranquilo, to drive mode, to visit mode, back to drive mode, some more tranquilo and lastly drive/move mode. Just rolls off the tongue.

Our first stop out of Phoenix was the magnificent Joshua Tree National Park where we camped for a night. Within Joshua Tree there are many walks and trails that wrap around the Joshua Trees and bare rock and the two ecosystems of the low Colorado Desert and the high Mojave desert in Southeastern California. The scenery around here was just amazing and the colour contrasts of the desert were founded around the location of the sun. We hiked along the Skull Rock trail, which as it name says features a giant boulder shaped like a skull. We also hiked right within our campground to Arch rock which, to be honest, left something to be desired after having visited Arches National Park. But hey it was very nice to see an Arch out of its home. We camped in the cold of the high desert. This time we were sleeping in the van, because it was soo cold.

We drove out of Joshua Tree in the early morning headed west to the California Coast en route to Big Sur. We drove through the monstrosity of Los Angeles and even found our way near Hollywood and Rodeo drive, not due to our careful planning, but a miscalculation using Google maps. Turns out there is a way around the whole LA region if you just take the time to look at a good map, which we didn’t have. Oh Well, we made it out of there and managed to get on the 101 and head along the vomit generating, spectactular twists and turns of the coastal highway. We made a stop at San Simeon Bay where we saw a seal sunning himself looking, well, dead, to the horror of a little girl and her mom. We all sighed a relief when the seal took note that he was the feature on the beach and proceeded to move further up the beach to enjoy his sun undisturbed. The view here was wild with huge fogs rolling in on the grey Pacific and bright green vegetation on the surrounding hills and Castle(!?) It invokes poetry and reminded me of an old Carl Sandburg poem:

FOG
The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbour and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

We made it up to Big Sur and quickly made our way North of it because the prices were too high: 35$ to pitch a tent, so in the dark we made it to another campground/recreation area and slept in the parking lot for 10 bucks. Apparently the Governator of California under recession pressure, decided not to close any parks, but increase the user fees to all of them. You can find a motel for 40 dollars in parts of the states. It really entices the campers. We took another walk down to the beach and saw where the Pacific was met by a river from the nearby hills. The trees were in full blossom and it was mid March. We stopped at Carmel-by-the-Sea, a fancy resort town south of San Francisco, it was quite pretty and very touristy, with a blend of cotton tops and crystal gazers. I love California. The next two nights we spent in Monterrey, in the campground that is right smack in the middle of town, it was sweet. We scavenged for firewood that made for outside time at night instead of “it’s 8pm and freezing cold, bedtime, get in the van”. Monterrey was a cool touristy town, it is the home to Cannery Row, which was made famous (to me) in John Steinbeck novels and it was neat to walk around places that reminded you of books of our youth. We really enjoyed ourselves in Monterrey.

After Monterrey we raced north towards San Francisco and made half plans to stop there somewhere for a picnic, but the opportunity raced away quickly as we passed over the Golden Gate and realized fast, that we were through; San Francisco was back there over our shoulder. We weren’t too jaded as we had had a good time in San Francisco a few years ago. Mush!! We kept going north to the Redwoods and in Clark Griswold style drove through a giant living redwood near Leggett California, and yes it was awesome, a bit strange mind you, something only humans would ever do. We spent that evening camped right on the sand in Clam Beach, a Humboldt County campground. It was awesome as Carl Sandburg’s fog had followed us north and the grey beach, ocean, combo was a sight.

We went to the Redwood National Forest and got our permit for the Tall Trees grove, which is home to the tallest trees in the world some are near 400ft high and were likely seedlings when Caesar took his walk to the forum. The forest had a jungle feel to it and you kind of wondered when a stegosaurus would walk around a corner, the ferns were six feet high it was prehistoric and humid in there. The trail is located after a forty five minute drive up a mountain behind a gate that has the lock changed once a week, very secret operation. Half way up the trail, PG (Poncho Gonzo, the van) decided to let us know we were very near empty and my driver paranoia kicked in and worried, but still we proceeded anyway. There is nothing like calculating the exact distance to and from the hike and where the likely vicinity of the nearest gas station would be. After our amazing walk we drove back forty five minutes and drove to the next town, not quite sputtering. We gassed up the thirsty van and stopped for pie and ice cream in a typical Americana diner stocked with old lady waitress types and grumpy old opinioned man types and, well, us. We were falling in love with the American dream. We made it to our campground of the night in the middle of a redwood grove outside of Crescent City, but not before hamming it up for the camera in another Clark Griswold moment where outside Klammath, the two towering giants of Paul Bunyan and Blue welcome you to the Trees of Mystery. It was pretty funny. That night was spent cold in the van by 7:30. We were out of firewood and it was frigid and damp among those giant trees.

The next day we drove up the Oregon Coast a bit, checked out Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area and headed eastward towards Eugene. We went to Kira’s mom’s house and reunited with Kira, it had been a month since we parted ways in Costa Rica after the Carnival in Panama and lots had been going on since. That evening Rhea popped by for a visit from Portland and we had not seen her since before Christmas after Redemptionfest in Palenque in Mexico, it was awesome. We spent a few days in and around Eugene which everyone should check out because the vibe is totally cool. We went to Portland where our adventure began so many months ago, and it was still the coolest; this time with actual rain and cold temperature.

We stayed at Rhea’s house and began preparation for the Jungle party that would have some special guests: Miles from Bellingham who we hung out with in Guatemala on Lake Atitlan, Amber and Danish Simon. We had met Amber and Simon in Zipolite. We hadn’t seen Simon since Christmas in Guatemala. Its very different to see people from a trip like this in normal western surroundings, I’m pretty sure anytime Simon and I would make eye contact we would just start chuckling. Too funny. The Jungle party went off without a hitch and we met lots of new people and had a great time reminiscing our trips. We spend another day watching movies and hanging out until Amber and Simon and Miles had to leave back to Bellingham and Seattle.

We checked out a McMennamin’s in Portland with Kira and our new friend Chris Terry the following day. This is a group that has purchased an old school and turned it into a bed and breakfast and brew house, and thermal bath and lecture hall. It was really neat to check out, something very different that I hope isn’t just a Portland thing, because it’s really cool.

The next day we made the last leg back to Canada and got to Marie’s parents place and switched out camp gear for one of the PG’s benches, because we were headed to Alberta the next day. We had some diner and immediately passed out. Next morning at 5 we got up and drove to Alberta, Edmonton specifically but not before stopping in Calgary for some soup with my brother in-law Max and picking up some very dusty boxes of burningman stuff from his and my sister Natalia’s house. We arrived in Edmonton and went to our good friend’s Farren and Dimitri’s place and finally got to get out of the van where we spent too much time that past week. We spent a week reuniting with friends, many who we had not seen since Burning Man in August and some even longer. It was so good to see our friends as we were shortly moving away to Victoria. Many thanks for people who came out to see us and a big thanks’ to Dimi and Farren for letting us crash their space and host us and Allie who let us crash her place too and Mom and Dad for letting us crash their space and host us for Easter 1 and 2. To Mark and Robin thanks for our first house warming presents.

After a few more visits we made tracks to Calgary for another barrage of visiting, its hard to keep track of everything as we packed so much into our time. A special thanks to Amos and Heather for letting us in and to Jen and Cale for doing the same. Konrad and Shal hosted us in our old apartment, it was nice to see some family too. It was so great to visit with everyone again, but the reality was we were headed West again for Maries parents place and then the big move.

We drove west with our friend Jen to Marie’s parents place in Wynndel, B.C. just outside of Creston. We reunited with Marie’s parents who we had last seen in Melaque Mexico. We spent a couple of weeks there tidying up and helping out with landscaping and tiling, going on walks and all kinds of stuff to do while we waited to go to Victoria for the beginning of May. Jen spent four days in BC relaxing with us and working in the garden. We got to stay in one place for the longest on our entire adventure and had the opportunity to reflect on what we had done and why and what we got out of it. As a couple we recognized our strengths and worked together on our weaknesses and we have become even greater friends than before. We made it official by getting engaged. As individuals we learned so much, managed to keep ourselves cool when times got difficult and we did it in conditions that were stressful at times, inspiring most of the time and positive, all of it, the whole trip. The people we met along the way are incredible and we have now made connections and friendships all over the place. When I am done school and have my teaching degree and some experience, I know a few places that we will want to revisit professionally.

We left for Victoria with Marie’s parents doing the major hauling of our gear in the truck with moving trailer and us with Poncho Gonzo. We made the Friday 5 0’clock ferry and rolled to our sweet new digs on the island. Thank you is not enough to express our gratitude to Marie’s parents who fed and boarded us at their home and while visiting Mexico, then picked up and helped us move all the way to the coast, thank you again anyways.
A week later I write this from a desk in our very own apartment, full of our own stuff, knowing that I start school on Monday. It is strangely exhilarating to have our own space again and it is taking some getting used to. For a little perspective as of this week, we started our adventure 9 months ago… whirlwind could be a good word to describe it. We are so excited to be here and all the signs are telling us we made the right decision. Our future is still uncertain but we are diving right into it with open eyes and open hearts.

I guess you can say that this is the last blog for the trip. Periodically I may send out an update, but it might be a while. We have both enjoyed writing these blogs immensely and plan on using it as our record of our trip to reflect and remember. Thank you for reading our adventures and hopefully you have felt like you were, in some way, a part of them.

Much love,

Paul Fisher & Marie Specht

What is about airports that makes you anxious? Is it because they’re places of activity and motion, always curious who other passengers are, where they’re going and why. Or is it the way airport security frisks and looks down on you and makes you feel criminal. Or is it because you are about to get onto a great wing-ed beast made of metal and get propelled to the stratosphere and somehow expect to not fall in a downward spiral plummeting to your fiery death.

From San Jose Costa Rica we flew to L.A. California arriving around 10pm, another hour after luggage, customs and immigration, but hey who’s counting. It’s L.A. It will be warm…a t-shirt, shorts and flip flops should do. This is mostly true however the air conditioning in the “international terminal” seems to not have discovered appropriate climate control; next to actual flying snow, I’m not sure it could get any colder. I know, I know, after six months travel in warm countries your sympathy lies between shit and syphilis in the dictionary. Be that as it may, it was a friggin cold night on the floor of the terminal beside a cold window in LAX with the nearest illumination, a McDonalds sign and also the site of our most recent meal and indigestion, not a lot of options at that time of night. In the morning we checked into our flight to Cabo.

Visions of Bajha: What is all that crap floating thickly down the Sea of Cortez? Maybe it’s the remains of unified projectile vomit induced by immigration policies enforced
by roaming border patrols and the xenophobia of Southern California towards Mexican Americans. Maybe it’s whale dung. Maybe. Who knows?

Marie and I managed to find local transport to Cabo via public bus for a fraction of the cost of either shuttle or taxi service, after not dignifying the baying pleas of taxi drivers come-timeshare salesmen. After six months on the road, the excitement of seeing my family was nearing epic proportions, all my cousins in one place after at least a decade, one from as far as France, to celebrate the wedding of Booie and Shippi. With the exception of an uncle and a few partners, the entire group would be together for nearly a week.

We arrived in style with our battered rucksacks in tow with hundreds of stories on our lips; we were reunited with fathers and mothers and sisters and uncles and aunts and nieces and nephews, cousins and rum (not that we needed to be reunited but surely it was there), new friends and new cousins and newly engaged and about to be married. Whew, just a few people. For Marie it was a bit overwhelming, coming from a smaller family, to meet the Fishers en masse with margaritas and tacos en tow. The hijinks were to come.

My sister Natalia, who currently is travelling in India, generously offered her room to share with us ( a godsend for our 60 a day budget) and we moved and unpacked our compressed and waiting explosion of soiled socks sweaters and everything else we have been carrying in our snail-like homes carried on our backs; unpacking is like a religious experience when you rarely stay in one place for more than a couple days.

The following week contained many adventures, misadventures and new friends and surprises (Christine Rogerson, what the Hell!). From hiking the hills of Lovers Beach to swimming the crushing surf of Divorce
Beach and urban hiking in search of
Christian Slater; from Sam Young-inspired suicide tequilas to Team Strike Force moustache parties, sing alongs with Brod, skinny dipping in the cold Pacific. From Canada – US hockey matches, great conversations with family and conversions of cousins. We had a great time catching up with everyone at fantastic and opulent dinners, or simple tacos.

The main event went off without a hitch or quite literally WITH a lifelong hitch. The beach ceremony, perfect, with a beautiful bride and an anticipatory groom whose smiles outshined the sun and the flowing tears could float the ships of joy down the riverways and streams of life. Sorry, a litle indulgent but it was quite awesome. This led to hoeurs d’ouerves to satisfy all the eaters needs to the tune of mariachis who played in musical unison to our delight. We were welcomed to our dinner with the brides procession under a sky of sparklers raining light on this fantastic event.

With a three sectioned buffet of salads, potatoes and broccoli, made to order fajitas, and grilled to perfections steaks and chicken breast, it’s not hard to believe that many guests missed altogether certain sections, but quickly found their footing with the desserts of cakes and flans. Marie performed a hula hoop fire show to introduce everyone’s dancing shoes to the dance floor and to begin the night of revellery. Were we full? yes. Were we wined and cocktailed? Yes. Did we group together in hilarity, tomfoolery and reintegration?Definitely!!!!

With days spent on the beach lounging it was hard not to notice the declining numbers as the week finished and the responsibilties of normality called people back to duties in Canada and elsewhere. Marie and I stayed on managing to have great dinners with my parents on one night and to be invited out another night to dinner with my sister’s family and get reacquainted with nieces and nephews. After all was said and done we were so very grateful to hang out with the family and a little sad to part ways again.

We hopped onto public transportion again and headed to the airport for another flight and layover in Mexico City en route to Manzanillo where we were to be picked up by Marie’s parents who bide a portion of their winters on the coast of the Pacific in Melaque amid other retirees who spend time beach side and hang around But Linda and Juergen don’t follow suit by constantly designing adventure day trips and exploring the beautiful scenery on long walks throughout the day while some of their compatriots may nurse hangovers and sunburns waiting for the specials. In the company of a couple that is semi-retired, Marie and I were generously put up in our own room and beset with a constant feeling of slight laziness in comparison to this highly active union.

The following week, we were to pursue many activities and enjoy the missed company of the Spechts. With long beach walks and explorations to near abondoned resorts and almost hidden beautiful spots to days at the beach snorkling and visiting crocodiles, (yep did that too), we enjoyed market days and firework displays. Juergen and I made it to the local pool hall for a couple games and even ventured into the realm of Mexican macho man dominoes betting, learning the nuances of “for money” dominoes and only watching the real deal. The everyday gourmet meals we were led through (Marie’s father retired professionally as a chef but you never really retire as a chef) and wine and evening brandy’s revealed the pleasures of conversation and playing dice and cards in the company of family. The discussion even led to our wedding planning for next year and the realities of reintegrating to normal working life when we arrive to Victoria to start new lives.

Again with heavy hearts we parted company and boarded the what ended up being forty hours of relay buses across the border to Phoenix AZ where we were met by my cousin Kyla whom we had recently spent time with in Cabo San Lucas. Kyla and Trent, whose generosity previously had buffered us from the South West as we planned to enter Mexico several months ago now gave us the buffer from the culture shock resulting from our rentry into the land of all selection groceries and automatic car washes, twenty five dollar campgrounds and the majestic beautiful landscapes of America.

Another week of gourmet cooking Kyla style finished with an awesome roast
and sweet potatoes, broccoli and cauliflower with cheese, Yorkshire pudding…. A week of exploring Phoenix, climbing up the camelback, a local peak. We drove to Saguaro National Park, whose hundreds year old cacti wave you through or stick you up or give you the finger or maybe salute you. We also visited the O.K. Corral in Tombstone and had a sit down for a gunfight and wandered into old time saloons for pints of beer with the riff raff of sock sandaled, cottonwool-haired, zippy trousered tourist types.

After a wash of clothes, a new car battery for Poncho Gonzo and a host of hugs and waves goodbye to Ky, Trent and the dogs, Sebastian and Jack, we headed back on the road for the slow, beautiful drive along the Pacific, headed North.

When we last left you we were on our way to playa Madera and Playa Majagual outside of San Juan Del Sur Nicaragua, better known as Broke-Neck beach to some. These two prime surf-beaches are a short collectivo ride from San Juan Del Sur and boast a beautiful shoreline away from the city with a lot less visitors. Most people find themselves on these beaches for a day trip or a surf outing, but a few stay on and rent one of the few rooms available or camp on the beach. Since we were traveling sans tent, we stayed at Camping Matilda’s. This place is a cozy and beautiful retreat where you can surf for a few hours walk the sandy beach, checkout the tidal pools on the rocks or while away an afternoon in a hammock.

When we ambled up off the beach backpacked and sweat-soaked, we were delighted that Alvaro, the young manager recognized Paul from his stay there 4 years ago. For those of you that don’t know, this is the very beach upon which 4 years ago, my hubby-to be broke his C-7 while wrestling with a wave. Needless to say that accident cut his trip short and this was his first time back to that ill-fated beach. We were welcomed with open arms and after settling in, decided to walk the beach so Paul could show me where the accident happened.

It was late afternoon and the only other person on the beach was a local lady who ran a grass-hut restaurant. As we walked past her she pointed up the beach towards the place where sand gives way to foliage and said, “tortuga”. We followed her pointing finger and saw a greenish lump in the sand that could have easily been mistaken for a rock. We thought, “if that is a turtle, it must be dead and washed up by the high tide”. As we got closer to investigate we realized not only was the turtle very much alive, but she was nesting. It was a large Hawksbill sea turtle, the very same species we swam with while diving in Honduras. We stood in quiet awe a mere 10 feet away and watched as this mother struggled on unfamiliar land to lay her eggs in the hole she had dug just beyond the high tide line. It was pure magic. I don’t know how to convey what it felt like to be on this isolated beach watching this beautiful creature struggle to create the potential for new life. When she finished laying we watched as she laboriously scooped sand, with flippers that are clearly meant for swimming not digging, over her nest and tamped the damp sand with the weight of her body. It was different to see this clumsy animal on land that looked so graceful under water. They spend most of their lives in the water but come ashore to lay their eggs. We followed at a discreet distance as she would struggle a few feet towards the ocean, then stop for break. You got the sense she was sighing with exhaustion. We stayed on the beach until she made it past the worst of the crashing waves and disappeared in the ocean.

Life is so strangely circular. How can it be that the first time Paul returns to beach that almost took his life, we are given such a gift?

We rode that karmic wave for the rest of our ‘muy tranquilo’ week at Matilda’s. We spent our days: hammock-reading, beach-walking, wave-jumping and we even rented surfboards for few hours to try it out. It was not the best conditions in which to swim as we often saw stingrays of various sizes riding the glassy sides of waves as they crashed towards us. Sam and Rob, our Manchester boys, joined us for a few nights at Matilda’s. The boys tried their hands at spear fishing but didn’t catch anything because they refused to bring in juvenile fish. Bad men  Good thing that a fisherman with lobsters dropped by Matilda’s with his catch! We bought a lobster each for about $2.50 Canadian a piece and cooked them that night over an open fire. Who says backpackers don’t eat well?

After relaxing at the beach for a week we returned to San Juan Del Sur to meet up with Kira and start our journey towards Panama and its legendary Carnivale festivities. Elijah went ahead on his motorcycle and we caught a bus to Monte Verde, one of Costa Rica’s Jungle wildlife reserves. We wanted to minimize our time in Costa Rica as it is the most expensive of the Central American countries. However, we couldn’t pass through without first checking out the cloud forests and canopy ziplines.

The bus wouldn’t take the windey road into the mountainous park so we got dropped off on the highway side in the dim twilight of encroaching night. Usually we are prepared for travel days with long bus rides and pack the appropriate sandwiches and snacks. This time we were not. By the time we got dropped off on the side of the highway all that we had eaten was a little duty free chocolate and rum from the Nicaragua-Costa Rica border crossing. We found ourselves sitting on our backpacks, with our thumbs out in the quickly darkening evening, nursing growling stomachs. We eventually got a ride that night and ended up checked into a friendly hostel, but we went to bed hungry as there were no restaurants open in the town of Santa Elena at 11pm. Elijah had met up with another traveling biker named Charlie on his way into Costa Rica. Charlie turned out to be a seasoned burner (someone who attends the Burningman festival that we started our trip with) and became fast friends with our ever growing posse. The boys and I ventured into the cloud forest to zip through its canopies while strapped into a climbing harness. We rode 13 separate ziplines connected by walkways and platforms in the trees. The trees were magnificent in size and beauty, describing an abundance of life that rival the landscapes created in Avatar. There were even a few howler monkeys around to complete the picture. The highlight was definitely the nearly 1 km long “Superman” zipline, where they strap you onto the line head first, super-hero style. Crazy! Paul did the whole day with a video camera taped to his helmet so be sure to check facebook for the videos.

Having seen what we wanted of Costa Rica, we hightailed it the following day to Las Tablas Panama. We landed in town in the early afternoon the day the Carnivale festivities started. Needless to say, we had a hard time finding a place to stay. After hours of fruitless searching via a phone and impossibly short, yet expensive phonecards, Kira and I found a lovely hotel (with a pool! And A.C.!) that would let the four of us share their last, tiny, one-bed room. We were relieved to have a place to leave our bags and decided we could alternate floor/bed shifts for what little sleep we were going to get that week. So it began.

My goodness, do Panamanians ever know how to party! Having chosen Las Tablas rather than Panama City to celebrate in, we found ourselves in a similar situation as we did for Dia De Los Muertos: There were very few other gringos in town and most of the revellers had come from the city. A basic rundown of the typical Carnivale day goes like this: Wake up bleary eyed around 9am and amble to the main square to participate in a city wide water fight. Drink beer. Get soaked by children and water trucks. Eat some fried chicken and rice from a street vendor. Go the 2pm “after party” in a broke-down warehouse with sprinklers running full tilt. Dance. Take pictures of the beautiful gay boys vamping it up for your camera. Drink more beer. Maybe squeeze in a two hour siesta. Eat fried chicken and rice from a street vendor (seriously, it was that or pork rinds). Get dressed for the evening. Go to the main square to participate in the parade. Hula-hoop, poi-dance and gyrate with transvestites behind the slow-moving, AmazingBeautifulHuge floats filled with sequins, peacock feathers and beautiful women adorned with sequins and peacock feathers. Drink beer. Be a part of the parade. Eat some meat on a stick. Drink beer. DANCE! If you still have energy, go to one of the big outdoor clubs and dance all night. Repeat.

Every night the parade had entirely different floats and the fireworks seemed to progressively get bigger and better. After the first couple of nights our posse became a little infamous for dressing up and participating by spinning poi and hula-hooping. We were definitely on live Panamanian television a few times and our dancing always drew a crowd. Throughout the week we meet and partied with various groups of other travelers and our friendly hotel manager even let them come over and use our pool! I’m happy to report we made it through Carnivale alive with one scraped up knee as our only injury.

After the fest we spent a few days sleeping and relaxing in Chitre, Panama. We said goodbye to Elijah as he had to fly home to retrieve parts for his motor bike. Even sadder yet we had to say goodbye to Kira, my travelling sister and our main partner in crime for our entire trip. Kira flew home to take care of her back and sew some more of her beautiful creations in reparation to sell them at the summer’s festivals. Once again it was down to Marie and Paul. It has been so nice on this trip to see our traveling family swell to accept so many wonderful new people. Equally, it is always nice to be Just Paul and Marie again. as we waited in the San Jose airport to catch the first leg of our flight to Mexico I realized that our feet were pointed North again for the first time in a while. Although we won’t be moving into our Victoria apartment until May, this next step on our trip signifies the start of the slow journey home. I’m so pleased that our last few weeks in Mexico will be spent with our families.

Next stop: Cabo San Lucas for Booie and Steve’s wedding and a week of family, new friends and fun in the sun!

A short recap from before: We were on Utila waiting in the rain.  After the second daily ferry was shut down because of bad weather around 2pm,  the usual suspects were up to no good, the rum was already freely pouring to let us wallow in our sorrows of not being able to leave the island. The procession of consumption followed thusly, first at civilised volume we would play out some card games on the rain porch at our hostal and have tasty mixed rum drinks. The next stage would be the cards are on the floor, civilized volume has changed to naught and the mix was gone.  We convinced each other that dirty martini shots were a good idea: Straight gin and an olive or to simplify even furthur, take a teaspoon of gin and snort it into each nostril for sinus clearing  and bliss. Things were getting out of hand.  Once the cards were picked up and stuffed into a too small card box we waddled down to the pizzeria for another stage to consume some alcohol absorbing pizza dough with pepperoni and cheese. While waiting for said pizza, we reached a whole new level of depravity: suicide tequilas.  To completely contradict normal tequila consumption (at least outside of Mexico) whereby you lick salt off your hand shoot tequila, follow up with chewing on a lime, delicious you´re great.  A suicide tequila is somewhat risky for… snort the salt, have your drinking companion squirt lime into your eye and amidst sensory overwhelment try to find the tequila to put down your throat as it is the best thing happening by this point. The last stage of this exercise in depravity had us arriving back at the hostel having another drink or two and immediately passing out before the bell tolls 9pm.

By this point we had already decided to charter a plane to leave Utila and expecting the inevitable, ¨sorry the weather is too bad¨ that we got used to waiting for the ferry, we weren´t quite surprised to be standing on an empty tarmac at 7 am, with bleary eyes, wondering if someone was taking the piss. Where is the plane, where is a pilot? Want a gin martini? Eventually a four seater Cessna landed and Sam, Marie and I were likening said plane to a micromachine toy as if it was just a joke plane, but it was the real deal.  This tiny piece of avionics would easily fit into any two car garage and we were gonna fly it over the ocean!? We were excited and relieved to be getting off the island. Utila is a fabulous place, but I recommend it not in the wet season. A friend of mine told me once that there were three lies about Utila that people would come to know and use: “I´m leaving tomorrow”, “I´m not going to drink tomorrow” and “I love you”.  Needless to say we never imagined rain would be the reason we could not leave.

The pilot started the single prop Cessna after a few campy shots with the plane. Sam and I crawled into the back and Marie hopped up in front with the  kindly pilot. As a result of the previous evening rum, gin and suicide tequilas we were a little queasy and uncertain about this small aircraft flight. Once we got to altitude and saw a stellar view of Utila through the clouds, Sam and I realized that something was going on in front. The pilot gave Marie the extra controller and she was flying!!!! His hands were in the air telling her in sign language what to do as it was too loud to use actual words in this impromptu flight lesson. Sam and I had a look of pure fear painted across our faces and began to weep and hold onto each other, terrified of losing the rest of our bodies in the direction of our stomachs.  Marie surprised us and herself as despite the odd stomach churning dip, she had no problem maneuvering the plane.  As we were coming across the gap back to La Ceiba on the mainland, surely we thought he would take back the controls for a landing. Nope. His hands were in the air again just for the benefit of Sam and I, and quickly we changed our shorts again in the expectation of doom. Marie, I might add has never flown a plane. She landed it fine and we were all a little bit relieved to get on solid ground. Despite the stressful aspects of the 20minute flight we thought, “thats how you should be able to leave an island!” We hopped on a bus for Tegucigalpa and encountered a posse of tourists who informed us that, after all, that morning the ferry had actually left the island. We weren´t as upset by this news as we should have been, having just spent 2 days budget on a plane.  After all, what an experience!

Marie and I decided to head straight for Nicaragua, we arrived in Tegucigalpa, quickly said goodbye to Sam who was visiting friends in town and hopped in a taxi to a different terminal across town. Our highly skilled taxi driver managed to block the   the bus 8which was already in the process of leaving) so we could get on it and get to the Nicaraguan border. I managed to stand roughly where the window popped up on the ceiling (the only place tall enough for someone of my stature)and stood there for a couple of hours and eventually got the opportunity to sit down. Sigh…chicken buses.  W e arrived in a small town just north of the border and found our way to a hostel and managed to get some delicious Chinese food (?¿!) minutes before the restaurant closed. Everything by minutes could be the theme of the day.

The next morning we crossed to the border, checked out of Honduras and walked the international bridge and paid our way into Nica. We got on to yet another chicken bus and made it into the beautiful town of Leon a stronghold for Sandinista support during the civil war, which by the way is over, so you should check it out. Nica is one of  the safer Central American countries.  Leon supports a large liberal arts scene, it is the home of poets, writers and painters. Poets (to Marie´s delight) get a lot of respect here, after all it is here that the poet Rigoberto Lopez Perez dressed as a waiter and assassinated conservative dictator Anastazio Somoza Garcia under who had ordered the assassination of General Augusto Cesar Sandino ( SANDINistas) whose nationalist policies directly antagonized the United States enough for them to support Somoza and facilitate a well operating banana republic. An old story.

The remains in Leon have some old graffiti and murals and even bullet holes.  Marie and I had a wonderful and informative tour lead by a hot dog stand lady / historian wearing a whimsical t-shirt with a care-bear on it, whose  lecture helped us understand Nicaraguan politics a bit. Nicaragua is a poor place so the more ways you can make money, the better chance you have to get your kid through school and food on your plate. Leon also boasts the largest cathedral in all of Central America, a regular behemoth of Roman Catholic heaven. When issuing financial requests of the Spanish superiors  they purposefully showed modest estimates and  plans and managed to finance the beginning of construction of it in 1747 and it took about a hundred years to complete. Leon also has probably the best modern art gallery south of Mexico City in Central America, with a large European selection as well as pre-colombian ceramics and contemporary Nicaraguan displays. I really enjoyed it and Marie educated me a bit on different styles of painting in a very non-intimidating gallery.

From Leon with Sam again in tow we moved on to Granada via a short yet delicious stop in Managua. Love that Nicaraguan chicken and gallo pinto… a huge plate for $2!  We found a fantastic hostel that was a bit cheaper than the recommended ones. We spend a few days wandering about avoiding tourist prices in bus stations and street meat markets. The local delicacy, vigoron, includes steamed yucca root, topped by pickled cabbage and deep-fried pork rind (chicharron) it was tasty, once, you can´t eat that all the time. We went down towards the Lake to see if we could make out  the island of Ometepe, that boasts a double volcano as its foundation, Volcan Maderas and Concepcion. It  creates a neat little place rich in volcanic soil and nice swimming beaches. In Granada our excitement was rising as our good friend from Canada, Draw, came down to Nicaragua for barely a week to hang out with us and certainly showed up in style. Draw rolled out of the taxi with sacks of well-aged scotch which he may or may not have opened on the ride from Managua. We continued on to a bar and we all got a very entertaining performance of our well loved friend who managed to peak the interest of a couple local ladies (of the night) who proceeded to slap him on the rear a couple of times and made an extended exit to return to the hostel. The next morning my father sent an email concerned about an earthquake on the Guatemala-Mexican border wondering if we had felt any shaking, my response essentially was that the only rumblings I felt were from Draw´s unsettled dreamy scotch sleep snoring.

Draw, Sam, Rob, Marie and myself were five now and the next day found ourselves in a taxi headed to Laguna Apoyo which is a crater lake that sits inside of an old Volcano. We spent the day  having some beers and swimming in the hot Nicaraguan sun, much different than our Utila rainy experiences. It was a lovely day. We showed Rob, another photo junkie, the remains of a hospital we found the previous day and explored its collapsed rooms and wards that created a fairly creepy photo locale. The following day we headed to Ometepe island on Lake Nicaragua via Rivas and another ferry. Somehow  as a result of naps and all kinds of tired, we arrived at a hostel with a nice pier and a whole lot of “No”. While travelling we have come across two general types of hostels, hostels of “yes” and hostels of “no”. This one had an owner who prided himself on having as many signs up posting rules and regulations as possible, while lamenting the loss of the Samoza dictatorship. We spent our time somersaulting into the lake, drinking beers and eating at the cheap tienda down the way. One day we climbed Volcan Maderas for stunning views of Volcan Concepcion, Lake Nicaragua and another crater lake up at the top.  Did I mention we enjoyed scotch all the way up and down?? This volcano was grown over with jungle, filled with howler monkeys and provided a nice change from totally exposed summits that I am used to, we were able to liken it to “locations” from the film Avatar as we climbed with our feet and hands wrapping around gnarled roots and vines (which we sliced open and drank from) creating a pleasurable climb.

After perfecting sun set somersaults and another night drinking, poetry jamming and great conversation, Draw, Marie and I headed for  the surfer paradise San Juan del Sur to finally reconnect with our long lost travel mate, Kira.  After a night or two in town with Kira we arranged with a real estate company the renting of a three tiered luxury home with a swimming pool overlooking the Pacific, it comfortably sleeps 9 people. This place is stunning!  I have never been in a house so opulent before, what an experience! With boxes of supplies we lapped up the luxury of high living, communal family suppers, parties with a few locals, poolside parties, air conditioning, crates of beer and rum. The addition of another half a dozen hand-picked people we had a fantastic little vacation from our already epic vacation and got to know new friends and old ones that rejoined. Devin showed up after months of not seeing him and Sam, Rob and Cassey reappeared. We ran into Elijah who we had met in Utila and he was down for the cause. Sarafina and her mother Theresa (who are from Moab!) who we had bonded with on Ometepe  joined up and after Draw left (far too soon by the way) Tjebbe, joined us. Our regulars included Tony and Oscar, two El Salvadorean fun lovers with whom we had some fun times (redundant?). It was opulent (25$ a day per person after all was said and done) and yet very necessary. We spent three nights there and it seemed a lot longer, it was great.

Our final morning we made tracks to friends places or other hostels with the mission being, to drop off stuff, regroup and head to the music festival that was happening that day. Earthship Pitaya Festival (http://www.earthshippitayafestival.com/) was in its second year and boasted a great fun time for children and adults alike, lots of beer, lots of music both local and from abroad with a great stage and people and fire spinning and it was  supporting great charities on the grounds of an Earthship, a home made from totally recycled materials and is self sustaining from various sources of alternative energy. Very cool. At the end of the night some  festivals goers caught regular shuttle buses back to San Juan or faced the imminent, ¨there are no more  buses¨.  Your other option is to jump in the back of a pickup and hope it does not take you right back to the festival from where you just walked ten minutes from. And if you still aren´t satisfied you can walk down again, try to convince an armed security guard to borrow his shot gun for the potentially dangerous long walk home. But if you wait,  the first truck that drove you back to the party when you wanted to leave just might pick you up to return you to your destination for a pittance and the ability to eat a fantastic hamburger.  Thanks for the indulgence, it was a fun, funny ride home.

We moved out of Kira´s housemates (who helped organize the festival) house and plan to head to Playa Madera just north of town tomorrow. This place is a paradise where four years ago I had a nasty time with a nasty wave that nearly killed me and left me with a busted neck.

Surfs up. Maybe with a slight bit of hesitation…

Paul and Marie

Hi folks, after an agonizingly slow period I have been able to organize some photos from early on in the trip. They cover since entering Mexico until reaching Oaxaca. I am working on them and trying to make them more concise and delete obvious duplicates and erroneous shots. I hope you enjoy. Any shots taken in art museums including the Modern Art gallery in Mexico City have not given me any right to display the images publicly. I will leave them up for now so you can experience them, there are some amazing pieces in their collection. I promise to reduce the image load and go through them more thoroughly.

P

http://www.flickr.com/photos/tallphish/collections/72157623098663707/

Hello all!  It’s been a long while since we last posted and so much has happened.  I’m writing this blog post in an internet cafe on the tiny Caribbean island of Utila, looking out at the rain.  It has been raining for 10 days.  Without stopping.  And we are trapped on this island as ferries don’t depart in bad weather.  I guess you could say it’s a good time to spend an afternoon in an internet cafe.  But I digress,  when we last wrote we were on our way with Danish Simon and Kira to Flores, Guatemala.

Flores is another one of these tourist towns, built to accommodate visitors to the ruins.  Not a very nice place to hang out.  We found ourselves a super friendly hostel and spent a day washing our clothes and enjoying being out of the jungle heat and humidity.  The following morning we woke up at 4am to take a shuttle to the ruins.  We had grand plans of bushwhacking our way in around the backside, as in recent years the entry fee for the ruins has increased dramatically.  It is a new development that there are two prices for most goods and services in Guatemala: one for locals and one for tourists.  The sign at the ticket gate unabashedly states that the entry fee is 5 times (!) as much for ‘foreigners’ as it is for locals.  Now I actually have no problem with this line of thinking as, yes of course the locals should be able to afford to see their own local heritage.  What I’m opposed to is the fact that ‘foreigners’ are expected to pay such ridiculously inflated prices.  I would be fine with paying twice or even three times as much as locals, but I think they’ve really taken it too far.  Regardless, our plans to slip through un-noticed went sour and we ended up ponying-up over $20 each to get in.  There were two reasons that we chose to wake up at such an ungodly hour: you arrive before most of the other visitors and get some quiet time to contemplate the amazing, ancient city and you are much more likely to encounter wild life.  In Palenque we heard monkeys howling in the distance, at Tikal we saw them swinging through the trees, curiously following us.  It was wonderful!  We also saw Toucans perched in the trees.  If you are connected to my facebook you can check out a short video I took from the top of Temple #4 that captures the haunting sound of those monkeys howling.  We spent the whole day wandering through the very impressive ruins and didn’t manage to see everything.  The 16 square kilometer area of the park only represents a very small percentage of actual ruins.  When you climb a temple and look out over the Jungle you can see countless pointy and abrupt hills that are actually unexcavated ruins… this place is huge!  Once we had seen the ruins there was not much left for us in Flores so we left for Antigua.

Antigua is a beautiful colonial city nestled in the mountains at an elevation high enough to render the climate cool and dry.  It reminded us a lot of San Cristobal De Las Casas in Mexico only a little smaller scale.  We found a sweet happening hostel that included the best hostel breakfast we have found so far.  It was a fun place to stay where we made many good friends.  We found a little bar called, “Cafe No Se” (or “Cafe Don’t Know) that featured a cozy-artsy atmosphere and impromptu live music.  There is an antique refrigerator door hung inconspicuously on the wall.  Curious visitors are rewarded when they try the handle and find the door functions as an entrance into yet another smaller bar featuring locally made mescal… cool!

One of the main attractions that brought us to Antigua is the opportunity to climb Pacaya, an active (magma!) volcano.  What a crazy experience.  We hoofed up this crazy, volcanic  moon-scape where every step forward slides you half a step back and leaves you with pumice in your shoes.  Once we got to the top, we were walking across a field of solidified lava flow.  Through cracks in the stone you could see an orange glow and feel an intense heat.   There was a 6 foot-wide river of magma crawling it’s way down the volcano a mere 10 feet away from where we were standing.  Hikers have been known to descend the slope with melted shoes.  Naturally, Kira and I had made the climb with a few liters of fuel and our fire gear on our backs.  There’s no way I could turn down the opportunity to fire dance atop an active volcano!  With crowds of people, the wind and the close proximity to molten rock, it was definitely the most difficult and dangerous fire show I have ever done. But wow, what an experience!  The way I see it, there are two original energy sources that created all life on this planet.  One is solar and the other is thermal.  It was truly amazing to dance with the incredible heat and power of our planet.  Plus it made for some pretty good pictures.

Our original plan was to spend Christmas in Antigua and hopefully find some sort of meaningful volunteer opportunity.  Sadly this didn’t work out.  Not a single one of the organizations I contacted for volunteering returned my emails.  We were feeling a little anchor-less in Antigua as it was not giving us the Christmas we had been hoping for.  After a couple of rainy days spent at the hostel we came to a decision: We would head back to Lake Atitlan, Guatemala to surprise our friend Farrah (who runs a hostel there) and Rael (who returned to San Pedro to work for Farrah at her hostel after the festival).  We knew that it was a friendly place with people who would be happy to see us.  I’d be lying if I didn’t say the lovely hostel kitchen had something to do with our change of plans. After all, a hostel kitchen with a functional oven is a rare find indeed. We had visions of a Christmas potluck with friends and fellow travelers in a place we knew was a little magical.  We were welcomed with open arms, excited hoots and big hugs.  It felt good to  be back.  There was a great group of travelers at the hostel (of course!) and we proceeded to plan a potluck-style Christmas dinner.  Paul and I were invited over to a local Guatemalan family’s house for a traditional meal on Christmas eve.  We even got to participate in making the tamales for dinner.  It was a lovely experience to be welcomed into someone’s home like that.  After dinner Christmas eve turned out to be quite the party complete with DJs, fire-dancing, great animated conversation and sparklers set against the beautiful background of a still lake reflecting stars. Lovely. We spent Christmas day cooking a feast fit for any king.  I am utterly amazed that over 20 people from all over the world, managed to cook food items in one tiny kitchen and it all went off without a hitch.   We had coconut rice and beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, deviled eggs, roast chicken, tostadas, traditional German kartoffel salad, homemade cake… all this was shared in the hostel’s beautiful jungle garden aglow with candles.  I think we made the right decision about where to spend our Christmas.  When it was time to leave on boxing day we said our goodbyes to Danish Simon as he decided to stay behind and work for Farrah at the hostel.

It was also time to say goodbye to Kira, as Paul and I were headed to Utila to learn how to scuba-dive and she was hightailing it to Nicaragua.  We had been traveling with Kira for over two months it felt really strange to wave good by to our comrade as her bus pulled out that cold morning.  Now we were back to just the two of us again, but not for long.  After 2 days of bus travel and yet another border crossing, we made it to  La Ceiba, Honduras, the jumping-off point for the Bay islands on the Caribbean side of the continent.  After a night in a sketchy hotel we picked up the essential supplies (2 gallons of rum) and caught the first ferry to Utila.  I haven’t been on many ferries before, but I doubt there are many out there more sketchy than this one.  It kept pulling away from the dock while people were trying to board and we were informed that 40 people had to move below deck or the boat would risk capsizing.  But when we finally got underway we were rewarded with warm sun on our faces and blue water below us.  It really felt like the Caribbean!  From our spot at the back of the boat we were witness to dolphins jumping and playing in the boat’s wake.

Utila is the smaller of the three Bay Islands and also the cheapest place to get diving certification other than Thailand. Certainly on Utila there are many different dive shops and due too stiff competition, they all run a pretty clean show with up to date equipment and really good safety records.  We chose to go with a local-run company called “Parrots” that had been recommended by other travelers multiple times throughout our trip to this point.  That being selected, we were instructed to  read for an eternity the manual guide for open water diving.   We had the opportunity to visit with our friends Peter and Susan from Calgary as they were here for their Christmas holidays.  It was so nice to catch up with friends from home!  New Year’s fell right in the middle of our open-water course which found us reunited with a posse of travellers some from Christmas  dinner in San Pedro and some from our Pacaya climb, all merry, all rummed and some with handfuls of fire works to celebrate the New Year.  Sam of the San Pedro crew had left his post at Farrah’s hostel (replaced by Danish Simon) and joined us in diving.   I will never forget our first confined water dive and the incredible feeling of breathing under water.  On or very first open-water dive out on the reef we were lucky enough to swim with a Hawk’s bill sea turtle.  It was a unique and beautiful experience, something I have always wanted to do but never expected.  The coral reef around here has so much more to offer than I ever expected.  The coral itself is a colourful word which until seeing it for myself,  I thought only existed on discovery channel.   We saw various rays, a giant green Moray eel, a huge dopey Porcupine fish, Trumpet fish, Spiny lobsters, giant fuzzy sea cucumbers clumsily humping their way along the ocean floor and so many other large and small colourful tropical fish.  Naturally we were hooked and stayed on to do our advanced divers course.  With advanced certification we can do deep dives (up to 40m) and my personal favorite, night dives.  When we did our night dive we were privy to a much more busy underwater world as everything was feeding and as we turned off our dive lights, we were treated to phosphorescence lighting up and flashing through the water as we disturbed it.  We also got to do a dive down to a ship wreak, creepy!

While all this wonder and beauty was happening below the surface, above water was an entirely different story.  The first few days on the island we encountered the infamous Caribbean sun and it’s accompanying heat.  However two days into our stay it started to rain. And rain. And rain.  And it hasn’t stopped yet.  No problem if you can afford to keep diving, but if you are not under water there is precious little to do on this island besides drinking rum in your depressing hostel room wearing your wet jeans that haven’t been dry for at least three days.  I swear my feet have started to molder.  Sam, Paul and I were ready to leave this island 2 days ago but it turns out the ferry doesn’t run when the weather is bad.  And trust me, the weather has been bad.  It’s not even warm rain anymore.  Our existence can be best described by Bill Murray’s character in the film, “Groundhog Day”.  Every day we get up at 5am.  Everyday we pack our bags and carry them to the dock.  Everyday we are told, “no ferry today, try tomorrow”, then we console ourselves with a large, greasy breakfast and try to figure out what we could possibly do with one more rainy day on this tiny island. Determined to break this cycle we did something crazy today.  We chartered a small three seater Cessna.  Tomorrow we escape this island in a very small private plane.   I foresee tonight’s nightmare consisting of an eerily familiar scene.  A scene where we are up early, ready to go with our bags packed and a cheerful island pilot tells us, “no plane today, try tomorrow”.  Wish us luck!

This one is a doozy… so grab a coffee or tea and cuddle up to the screen for a good story, with a very happy ending! 

We woke up early the morning after our thanksgiving feast and were picked up by our shuttle van.  Our group had once again expanded with the welcome addition of Mateus who wanted to come with us after Innes left back to Belgium.  Making good time, we madeit to the border on market day and walked to the various border customs on either side. We entered Guatemala and waited for our other shuttle to Atitlanwhile catching a wide breadth of what Guatemala had in store. We saw a guy get onto his scooter with his pistol and magazine shining in the sun. Not too many guns in Mexico outside of the intimidating Mexican state and municipal police, not to mention the military presence. In Guat it perfectly legal to carry arms, can’t wait till everyone gets drunk on a Friday night, yikes!

Halfway from the border to Lake Atitlan we had to be re-routed to Quetzaltenango (Xela) due to disturbances near the lake. We were under the impression that the roads were closed because of indigenous rioting. We found out later that the locals had massed to deal with three prisoners in the local jail, they took police hostage and demanded the police release the three prisoners to the people, who proceeded to beat them up and burn them alive in the streets.   The prisoners had murdered a bus driver.  The judicial system is very corrupt here and the locals knew that due to the prisoners´ mafia ties they would be released within 3 days.  There has been a rash of bus driver murders and over 500 bus drivers have been killed in the last year.  They are targets because nobody pays in advance for bus tickets so the drivers always have lots of cash.  Needless to say, people here are very upset.  That sure didn’t make the news back home, did it? The three people were accused of killing a local bus driver and the town sought vigilante justice. Spooky. Xelas was a real nice place to visit, but it was certainly overshadowed by the incident.  On our way to the lake the next day we saw the huge police presence and burned out police cars. 

We lunched in Panajachel and caught a boat to one of the many villages that surround Lake Atitlan. The lake has several Volcanoes looming over head and is a stunning paradise of beautiful jungle.  We skipped the major center of Panajachelandheaded straight for the smaller and quieter San Pedro.

What a magical town!  San Pedro is one of those places we have been hearing about from friends and travellers over the years.  The town had some pretty high expectations to live up to!  It is nestled between volcanoes on a beautiful  lake, surrounded by lush jungle.  It is home to very friendly locals and a strong expat community.  San Pedro is a great place to go to work on yourself and relax a little bit.  We decided to stay for a while, unpack our bags and revel in the comfort of routine and familiarity for a few days.  It really felt like a vacation from the rigours of travelling.  While in San Pedro we registered for very inexpensive, one on one Spanish classes.  Every morning we spent 3 hours under a palapa in a beautiful garden drinking local coffee and improving our conversational skills.   We found a lovely hostel called Yo Mama´s Casa and made it our home for the next week.   The afternoons were spent doing yoga, getting massages or energy work done and laying about in the hammock-strewn vortex of our home away from home.  The evenings were spent soaking in private thermal pools, dancing to excellent music at the Freedom bar, playing pool or watching movies at Yo Mama´s or simply drinking cheap (but tasty) box wine and getting to know our new friends.   When you are travelling occasionally you will unexpectedly find the perfect mix of people, a temporary family in the midst of so many strangers.  Well this was one of those magical finds.  ´Yo Mama´ ended up being a woman named Farrah, a super cool 20-something who took the plunge and moved to paradise to run a hostel.  Very inspiring indeed. We referred to the common area in our hostel as the vortex because it was so easy to while away an afternoon just chatting with other travellers, sharing music and book recommendationsand feasting on whatever food was cooked in the communal kitchen.  The food! Oh my!  Will I ever miss the lovely ladies who regularly and with impeccable timing would show up at our hostel with homemade chocolate cake, cinnamon buns, banana loaf and veggie tamales.  There really was little motivation to get out of the hammock.  But when we did coax ourselves out of the vortex we were rewarded with everything this little slice of paradise has to offer.

We spent some of our time in the vortex crafting.  I copied and put together more poetry books that I like to gift to new friends, as I was running low.  We found this great epoxy matierial and proceeded to make playful horns in anticipation of a music festival we would be attending the following week.  It´s hard to imagine attending a festival with out my tickle trunk full of costumes… at least this way we would havea little flare! Paul and a posse took a trip to the summit of San Pedro Volcan. At 3020 m the view is stunning, you see three other volcanos from its lofty heights including the active Pacaya near Antigua which we plan to check out when we get there. We also went to another lake village, San Marcos La Laguna, which is home to a pretty inspired modern pyramid complex used as a meditation centre. The vibe here is very much more about vows of silence, yoga, and spiritual healing. They still had beer, so thats good. Rhea, Kira, Conor and Raelkayaked over to meet us and we enjoyed this little place before returning back, this time Paul rode with Raeland Conor to give the girls a little break. One day we went with Kira to Panajachelon a material mission, multicoloured fabrics of all colours and sizes to be used in her unique creations when she gets back state side, we look forward to her art. We also cought a truck to an old coffee plantation which had a lovely beach and relaxed to music sitting around watching clouds as they passed around volcanoes.

The time we spent in San Pedro really solidified our friendships with Rael and Mateus, two really solid cats who really contributed to the group dynamic, and have become very close friends who joined us on our journey to the festival. We left for San Cristobal de las Casas Mexico on another shuttle stoppìngshortly after border formalities for some cold ones, recalibrating our financial brains for another currency switch. The ride back to San Cristobal was familiar and friendly like the Mexico we have come to love. We returned to our hostel from the previous time and quickly made our way to the best falafel in town and wandered the streets anew stopping in a few haunts. Paul, Rael, Mateus and Rhea wandered into a three year anniversary party for a fancy tapa bar and had a few plastic cups of so-so wine before calling it a night.  We also booked our flights from San Jose Costa Rica to Cabo San Lucas for Paul´s cousins wedding their at the end of February. (I guess that confirms we are coming to the wedding ; ) The following morning we all made tracks to Palenque town for a build up fror Redemptionfest.

Rael had spent some time here before and knew the secret to staying in Palenque. The secret is not to; Palenquetownwas built to serve the tourists going to the ruins and has nothing particularly nice about it and it is extremely hot and humid. He showed us to El Panchan, which on the other hand is a travelleres hideout both from the heat and from the real world, it is about ten degrees cooler, as this area is absolutely and literally covered in jungle, the sunbarelypenetrates the canopy.  Time is spent here checking out the fire dancers and drinking beers in the shade. We stayed in little cabañas with thatched roofs, very jungly and pretty.  To get to our cabana we followed little jungle paths over bridges and below doorways, past giant palms and tropical flowers; as on a secret mission to Shambhala.

We visited the Mayan ruins of Palenque which flourished around 700 AD and was overwhelmed by jungle after its abandonment until being unearthed again centuries later, its house of the inscriptions has helped create a functional timeline of the Mayan history. In the background, the howler monkeys screamed their catlike howls, pretty unnerving to the unsuspecting visitor, and we enjoyed a lovely day with a pleasant colourful sky and bright green carpets of grass and wandered around the complex appreciating such a place.

The big night for Redemptionfest started with lots of napping and confirmation attempts as to the real location of the ¨festival¨.  Rael even prepared snacks of hard boiled eggs and fruit in the expectation for the long haul. Also to be mentioned was the arrival of groups of people we had met along the way and some newbies to the Jungle posse, Texas Steve and Danish Simon had finally left Zipolite with Lupita and picked up New York David, Italian Lucien, Timmy, Eva the Ibiza DJ and a host of others turning our group into a much larger enterprise. First we went to the location just near El Panchan by jumping into the back of a pickup and speeding to the entrance, there were a dozen or so people hanging on to each other for support in the back of the speeding truck. The festival was supposed to start at 5pm but at  9 the gate was still closed and people started massing.  The conflicting news began; one DJ had split from the original lineup amd there was a second party,  the festival was divided, split down the middle.  The problem was they would not accept our pre purchased tix and we would have to go to the other venue to change them.   Ahhh, Mexico.  always an adventure! We piled into another friendly truck and drove to Palenque town, really holding on now as there was a sqirming mass of 22 people standing up in the back of the pickup, all intertwined into some kind of massive support group that was ready to sing Kum Bye Ya and some were even tearing from the fierce speed winds, it was sad and beautiful; grown men despertly hugging onto each other for dear life.  We arrived at a car wash and gas station at the edge of town, it was awesome. Rael and Matheas scouted ahead to confirm the location of the other party, they went to the hostel that sold tickets and was hosting the organizer.  After spending a good 45 minutes waiting in front of said car wash the boys came back and shortly therefter the organizer appeared and gave us a lift in his truck. We arrived at the party excited that at last we had made it, there were even official-looking staff checking tickets, well… ¨lets party!¨ we said.  We said it again, and well the lighting was awesome the music was great, the lights even shone down on a perfect and still swimming pool. We watched and waited.  Marie and Kira lit up and everyone was really into it.  When they finished up fire dancing, everyone continued to stand back and watch us… weird! We danced a bit and everyone watched us; this party was bunk. It culminated when Simon, seeing the opportunity to use the pool, doffed his clothing and went for a swim in vain attempt to get a rise out of these ¨watchers¨.   He was  promptly told that the organizers did want him to use the pool… Where was the festival, where was the circus stage we were were  promised? The fun luvin´people? Group decision determined we had to get outta of there, with trucks and taxi, we returned to ¨party part one¨ and it had turned into something much more festive, we had finally found what we were looking for.  We strapped on our horns, tossed aside our shoes and dug in and danced and boogeyed all night long.  This was the party we were hoping for!  The music was great the atmosphere was perfect and the hords danced up a tribal storm in reckless abandon beneath jungle night sky.  Towards the early morning hours Mateus grabbed each of us individually to join him on his expedition, sunrise  at Palenque ruins.  We almost had the guards taken care of (wink wink nudge) but they got nervous and it eventually blew up in our faces.  The 8 of us had to abandon hope. Mateus stayed behind and managed to grease his way in while we walked back to the party, happy for him to realize his dream.  By the time we got back sunrise  had happened and we were all a bit tired and went back to our palapas in the jungle palace for much-needed rest. The next day was spent mostly in bed nursing all types of hangover. We spent another day in Palenque before heading again to Guatemala but not before the breakup of our wonderful group. Mateus made tracks to return to Belgium and on the same night Rhea left towards Cancun to fly back to the states. It was a sad night and also the right time to go.  We said our tearfull goodbyes to these kindred spirits… it´s amazing how close we had become in a matter of weeks. 

The next morning Kira and Danish Simon came with us to Guatemala and we crossed in the north along a river and stamped into the country, in a very relaxed border post, most pleasent.   We drove in towards Flores, a starting point for many Mayan ruin adventures including Tikal. The road showed the evidence of  deforestation for cattle raising, creating a hazardous area in rainy season. We plan to get to Tikal tomorrow and take a night bus to get to Antigua hopefully to stay for Christmas before moving on to the Bay Island of Utila for New Years and most of January. If you are not doing anything, please, come join us!Either way you will be with us in spirit.

 AFTERWORD

In other news I Paul Fisher, of mostly sane mind, asked Marie Specht to join me for life as my wife.  We were in San Pedro on Lago Atitlan and my intention was to ask her on top of a volcano in typical Paul style, yet the signs told me not to, Marie was sick and could not make it up. So I had to change plans, we had earlier arranged a bath in the thermal baths, which are hardly thermal but hot indeed. The bath was for two and was surrounded by jungle bushes and sounds, with lit candles and boxed wine  (cheap but good) under a full moon and starry night, it could not possibly have gotten more romantic… maybe a Mexican mariachi popping out of the bushes, wait that would have just been weird..we were in Guatemala. 

Oh yeah, she said yes!

We bought a ring afterwards in San Cristobal de las Casa, it is really beautiful; two pieces of  different coloured amber  contained in a silver shaped leaf. So thats a pretty big deal, definitely have not set a date in the near future but I guess we´ve only just started to think about it.  Can´t wait to celebrate with you!