Storms, freebies, and the farmers daughters

I left Colombia on schedule and arrived in San Jose Costa Rica to find my van exactly where I left it. I spent the next day cleaning the van and doing a quick inspection of the tires, fluids, and all that stuff before heading to the beach in the now familiar town of Jaco. After a couple of days lazing in the sun I received an email from my friend Pernell asking me to check out a property on the Nicoya Peninsula. After a couple of emails with him and the developer I was on my way to Tambor Bay.

I arrived a day early and set up camp on the beach in Montezuma. It was a nice spot on solid ground well above a nearby creek and with a great view of the beach break (surfer lingo). That evening and into the night it absolutely poured. The lightning and thunder rocked the van and lit up the otherwise black sky. It was awesome. The rain wasn’t stopping and at about 11:00 that night I couldn’t help but think of my previous experience with high water on the Caribbean side. I decided to get up and take a look around camp. Getting out of the van I stepped into about 2 inches of rapidly flowing water. So much for high ground! I looked at the creek where it flowed into the ocean and while it was torrential is was at least 2 to 3 meters below the van. I then walked up the hill to find out why the water had chosen a path through my camp. The problem was at the bridge where the river had risen and was flowing over. The bridge was acting as a dam and creating a standing wave at least 1 meter high. It was from this that the river branched with one tributary flowing through my camp. After a careful (but not too close) inspection I decided that if the water continued to rise it would break over the bridge and only impact my camp with another foot or so of water. A minor problem really as my camp was clean and my escape route straight ahead. I set out a couple markers so I could monitor the water level from my van and went back to bed. I didn’t sleep until I heard the storm easing and I saw the water levels recede from my markers. The next day I drove back to Tambor Bay for the tour of the property Pernell asked me to look at. After meeting the people and telling them my story they told me that it rained over 6 inches that night. That was way down from the record rainfall they had the week before of nearly 12 inches.

There seemed to be a little confusion between the Canadian office and the Costa Rican office as the developers where a little surprised by my presence. They knew of my name but didn’t receive confirmation from there Canadian branch that I was arriving. This worked out quite well for me because they honored their promise to set me up in a spanking little hotel for 2 nights and then had to cut the tour to a half day. We saw the property, took some picture, saw some adjacent properties for comparison, and then I took the rest of the day at pool side. Dear Pernell (or anybody else), If you have any more gigs like this please let me know. I am travelling up the west coast of Mexico and I am happy to land in free luxury hotels for a free tour of the area. Maybe get them to throw in a round of golf next time, a day at the spa, or babes with big boobs :)

From Tambor I travelled north almost to the Nicaraguan border and stayed at the Santa Rosa Park. It was far and away the nicest official camp spot I have stayed in while visiting Costa Rica. It was a perfect bay with calm water, clean beaches, and good facilities. As I was out of groceries I only stayed the night and continued on to Nicaragua the next day. In Nicaragua I camped the first night in a nice park and then continued on to Granada for some fine dining, cold beers, and to catch some futbol on the big screen. A couple of days later I continued from Granada and travelled late into the afternoon. I was getting a little concerned as I had checked out a couple of unsatisfactory places to stay and the camping potential was very limited. Finally I crossed a pretty river down the hill from a little house in the campo. This is where I met the farmer’s daughters. I drove in and spoke with the man of the house and for a couple of dollars he let me set up at the base of the hill and near a nice pool on the creek. Later on I was practicing my Taekwondo at the creeks edge and I caught the attention of the whole family. The father came down with his wife and 2 daughters to check things out. We all practiced with the long staff together until dad and his wife left and the girls stayed. OK readers… shift gears (see photo, adorable, but 30 years to young)! I practiced my Spanish with them and went about preparing my dinner. On the first day they mostly sat politely and smiled endlessly. They assumed I knew what they were talking about when I repeated their words and as their confidence grew so did the conversation and craziness. Like many of the local people I meet in the country they were all very curious about my kitchen and where I slept. I BBQ’d chicken and peppers with my little audience of two watching every move I made. They devoured everything I feed them. Once the chicken was down to the bone they passed the carcass back and forth until it was eaten or the hard parts spat out on the ground. They were so happy to help clean up after dinner that they beamed with delight. While I had my bucket of ‘shocked’ water for dishes they ran down to the creek with my dishcloth and dishes and promptly did my dishes in the town effluent. I was disgusted and I tried to explain, but what could I do? They just smiled back at me, absorbed my praise, and looked for another way to be helpful. I just told myself… burn the blue wash cloth, add extra bleach to dishes rinse cycle, and smile. Later, when I converted the back seat into my bed the girls ran off to the house to return with their dad and their dolls. Dad was impressed by the conversion and the girls were excited to tuck there dolls into the foot of my bed. At this point they were in and out of the van as if it were their own playground. I was a little uncomfortable with this at first but again everything I said seemed to get lost in the translation. Finally dad ushered the girls back to the house and after a night cap I called it a night. The next day I was awoken by a bump in the van. I woke up to find two little girls standing on my bumper and peering into my window before they set off to catch the school bus. The girls spent most of the day at school but when they returned they promptly went to work. They swept the camp area clean of debris, washed any dish or utensil left unattended, washed and reorganized the inside of my van, while the whole time smiling back at me and seeking my approval.

It was adorable, but I couldn’t find a damn thing in my van for the next 3 days. That evening we shared my spaghetti and the next morning we all had French toast with syrup and cinnamon. Mom was equally as eager as the kids as we devoured a new loaf of bread and all my eggs. They couldn’t get enough, and if I had more bread I know they would have eaten it all. Mom later came down with farm fresh eggs to replace the ones we ate.

At this point I was pretty close to the Honduras border so with an early start I was able to pass through Honduras and into El Salvador in the same day. Getting into Honduras was easy (other than the seat belt infraction while moving the car at the border crossing), getting out of the country was a repeat of my earlier fiasco. It only cost me an extra $5.00 so I can’t complain too much.

The Amazon

Leticia is furthest southern tip of Colombia bordering Brazil and Peru. The hostel where I stayed at in Leticia was run by a guy that looked like he had been smoking, drinking, and otherwise consuming some nasty products from the Amazon jungle for way too many years. He couldn’t quite open his eyes past half way and while one eye seemed to look at you the other was looking past me. He told me the same story twice while checking in and then completely contradicted himself on another just 10 minutes later. He then offered guiding services into the jungle but I couldn’t get a straight story from him regarding his prices, itinerary, or anything. I wrote him off and decided to keep our arrangement to him simply providing me with a room. I decided to go down town and check things out while looking for a place to eat and perhaps find a guide that could look me in the eye with at least one of his own.

I thought I played it pretty safe…. I asked for the guys ID and I followed up with his references at one of the nicest hotels in town and at the restaurant where I met him. My guide (Jorge) to go into the Amazon in seemed to be checking out, and after only a few hours in town it looked like I was heading into the jungle the next morning. The plan included boating in the Colombian, Peruvian, and Brazilian mangroves and tributaries of the Amazon, nature watching, fishing for piranha, and staying a couple of nights in a jungle lodge. I paid about 20% down and crossed my fingers that the guy would show up the next morning as promised. I finished my dinner and returned to the hostel where I was staying to organize my gear. Jorge had indicated he knew of the hotel where I was staying and also confessed that he didn’t get along well with the proprietor. He didn’t really offer any more information about that and I didn’t ask. I wasn’t really surprised. Of course, once I returned to the hostel I couldn’t resist and I told senior ‘Walking Eyes’ that I had booked a trip with his competitor. He started by saying that ‘I was a big boy, and could do what I wanted but Jorge had a reputation for being unreliable!’ But of course that’s all he could say because ‘he doesn’t like to speak down about people’. Ten minutes later ‘unreliable’ was further explained as a ‘gambler with bad credit’. Shortly thereafter the gambler was described as someone that would take my money and leave me in the jungle while he skipped the country. He did have me a little concerned and I was grateful that I only put down a small amount of money. Within the next 30 minutes of this guy following me around I learned that Jorge was a drug dealing, counterfeiting, murdering rapist that was wanted by the police. I was thinking the police must be complete buffoons because everyone in town seemed to know him and how to find him.

The next morning I grabbed some breakfast and showed up at the agreed upon meeting point a half hour early. Ten minutes later Jorge showed up and after a quick coffee we grabbed a taxi and drove into Brazil to meet up with the hired boat. It took a little time to actually shove off but once we got on the Amazon River things unfolded as he said they would. We went upstream to a small village and walked around the jungle for a few hours, had lunch, and then took off into Peru on the Rio Yavari. It was quite amazing… we saw sloths, monkeys, dolphins, a small snake, and a ton of different birds. In some areas the jungle encroached the river so much that we had to push the vegetation out of the way to pass while other areas the river were at least a kilometer or two wide. A couple of times I thought if he was going to throw the tourist overboard there was the time and the place.

The lodge wasn’t the Hilton but it was a lot better than what I was expecting. I was a little confused at first because it seemed there were available beds but we got set up in hammocks with mosquito nets under a thatched roof in the back. I clearly told him that I preferred a bed and I asked Jorge where he was sleeping. He said he was sleeping in the boat so I decided not to complain or press the issue any further. Two hours later after trying to sleep in the hammock I decided to complain. I went to enter the lodge but I found myself locked out. I then walked around the main building to the river where Jorge was supposed to be sleeping in the boat. I shined my flashlight in the boat and Jorge wasn’t there. The bugger was sound asleep in a bed inside the lodge. I had him woken up and gave him a WTF! He was busted and he knew it. I reminded him who was paying the bills and suggested if anyone was going to sleep in a hammock it was going to be him. I know it sounds a little arrogant but he out right lied to me. For the rest of the trip my name became ‘Jefe Grande’ and I was happy with that. I seemed to establish some credibility with him and he went from being a little unorganized and careless to quite attentive. After breakfast we headed out on the river with some guys from the lodge to do a little fishing. I was skeptical at first with the ‘willow stick’ and 2 meters of monofilament line with a monster hook and a chunk of red meat as bait. We drifted in the shallows and then thrashed the water with the fishing polls. We then dropped the baited hook in the water and bam, bam, bam; we were taking strikes like crazy! We fed a lot of fish because the little buggers were hard to snag… The fish were small, the bait was tough, and the hooks were big… and I am sticking to this excuse for not landing 50 of the buggers. After a couple of hours we did manage to land a dozen or so into the boat along with a few small catfishes. We should have left them in the river because they were terrible to eat. The flavor wasn’t bad but by the time you got through all the bones there was probably 2 forks of meat per fish. Their skin had protective ‘spines’ in it too. We went out that night ‘spotlighting’ for ‘wanna-be crocks’ (I can’t remember what they are actually called) and later slept in a real bed. The 3rd day was a continuation whereas we cruised the water ways in search of anything and everything. The trip was concluded following a short motorcycle trip into the jungle and a short trek to see a local shaman. He conducted ‘ayahuasca’ ceremonies and ground his own coca leaves into an edible powder. It was all quite interesting. The process was explained to me and I tried some of the powder but other than a slight numbing of my tongue I didn’t really feel any affect. I didn’t take part in any of the ceremonies.

The next day (Thursday, June 03) I caught a plane to Bogota. Bogota is a big city and on the way to the Candelaria district I saw everything from slums, modern business and shopping centers to million dollar homes. Candelaria is the historical district and is walking distance to Parque Bolivar where all of the government buildings are located. I made a point of walking the streets, seeing a few museums, and visiting a few nice restaurants and cafes, but otherwise I took it pretty easy. I don’t think it’s a reflection on the vibe on the city but more on my state of mind. I am tired.

I am ready to start heading home. I booked a plane ticket back to Costa Rica for Monday June 7th. I will take a couple months getting back to Canada and I am sure I will kick my ass when I get back to the daily routine. I miss family, friends, (and secretly) work. I want to have a little summer at home before I return to work. I didn’t get as far as I originally planned but I feel good that I really experienced the places that I did make it to. I made a lot of friends, saw some amazing sites, had some great times, and there is no doubt that there will be a few more on the trip north.

Colombia

I arrived in Cartagena Colombia without incident on April 30th. I was met at the airport and driven immediately to my home-stay where I was met by 2 overly attentive old ladies. I met the entire neighborhood in the first couple of days, my laundry was done by hand the same day it landed in the hamper, when I asked where I might go shopping I was personally escorted, when I misplaced my key, they went through all my belongings for me, if I stayed in for the night they tried to set me up with Veronica. I managed to avoid this introduction all week but it wasn’t easy. To do so, I had to go out almost every night. It was all quite charming at first but it grew annoying pretty quickly.

I was glad to move into my own private apartment the second week and regain a little privacy and independence. The building I moved into was a little aged but the suite itself lived up to my expectations as it turned out to be exactly as viewed in the internet photos. It had a view of the port and the Laguna and was walking distance to Playa Boca Grande and a $2.50 cab ride to the old city.

Unfortunately the instructors at the Spanish school seemed like they had better places to be and they were quite distracted during class. The dance classes started late everyday and with 4 guys in the class and no women; we were left to dance with chairs on the first day, pull in chicas off the street the second day, and finally convince some of the girls from Spanish classes to sign up for the rest of the week. Thursday was overkill because we thought the chicas saying they would show up on Thursday was just a polite gesture, so with them and the other girls on Thursday and Friday, the guys were outnumbered… what a predicament!! We had to make it up to them by going dancing every week night and into the weekend. The Spanish classes contained a really good mix of people from all over and it seemed everyone was always up for a good time. We never seemed to go out with a group smaller than 4 and at times we numbered up to 10 party goers. We went to some lively bars and listened to some great music. The locals can really dance and while everybody was willing to dance and have a great time with the clumsy foreigners, it was very humbling.

The afternoons were typically spent strolling the streets in the historical section of the city, relaxing on the beaches, lounging over lunch and drinks, and generally taking it easy. Day excursions included a day of beach baseball with clueless Europeans at Playa Linda and a mud bath at Volcan de Lodo Totumo where getting the mud washed off in the laguna was the best part! In effect, it was a $2.00, 15 minute massage. I choose not to extend my Spanish lessons into the second week and instead I took private salsa and meringue lessons in the mornings. My meringue is a lot better than my salsa but I need a lot of practice with both.

As much as I loved Cartagena it came time to leave after 2 weeks. From Cartagena I took the bus to Santa Marta on the Caribbean coast. It was blazing hot! My hotel was decently priced, close to the beach, but quite a ways from town. I booked a ‘tour’ into Tayrona national park where there are some awesome beaches and average snorkeling. It was great day and I met some really nice people but it sure made me miss having my own wheels. We were shuffled unto the bus, into the souvenir shop, into the snack shack, into the park office, into the taxi boat, into their cousin’s restaurant at the beach, and we all had to hold onto the life buoy while snorkeling. If I walked out of line it seemed someone was there to very politely get me back to where they thought I should be.

From Santa Marta I took a plane to Medellin and landed myself a spot on the floor in a dismal hostel. I survived the night and moved onto a much better place in Zona Rosa the next day. In Medellin I met up with Katrina from the Spanish school and she introduced me to Neil. The 3 of us partied the weekend away in the many fun clubs and good restaurants that the Zona Rosa has to offer. As Katarina had already been there for a few days she was gracious enough to be my guide as we explored the city on the excellent metro and cable car system. We also took a bus and climbed the 200 m El Penol monolith near the town of Marinilla.

After the weekend the 3 of us agreed to rent a car, share the costs, and drive into the Zona Cafeteria. It was a beautiful drive through the mountains and valleys that took us to such places as Manizales, Periera, Parque National Los Nevados, Salento, Valle de Cocora, and Finlandia. We hiked up Nevado del Ruiz volcano to 5000 meters until the snow and crappy weather shut us down, took a tour of a coffee farm, and walked about the Valle; but mostly we just enjoyed the scenery while touring in the car. From Periera Katrina took a bus to Bogota and Neil and I hitched a ride with the car rental dude to Cali.

We arrived in Cali on Wednesday, May 26th. We moved into a hostel that Neil knew about and unpacked to stay for a few days. It’s a great place except for the #%^%^&#@# cold showers! We took it easy the first night and on the second night Neil called on one of his friends who invited us out for a night of salsa. The girls wouldn’t let me sit down too often and they also took the lead on the dance floor. It was fine by me as I mostly bluffed my way through the evening. I just made sure to keep a safe distance and because the dance floor was so busy they couldn’t tell I wasn’t doing a damn thing right…. usually. It was all about the dancing… I was the big spender that night because I bought a jug of cola. Including taxi the whole night cost me less than $10.00. The next night we went out for dinner with poetry reading and finally a local band for entertainment. For the record, I didn’t pick the place!!! The poet was very expressive but I didn’t understand any of it. The band over did it a bit too. It was a dry weekend due to the elections on Monday. The dance clubs are shut down tonight so I decided to finish this blog entry and prepare for my trip to the Amazon River tomorrow. I have booked a flight from Cali to Leticia via Bogota tomorrow. Leticia is on the border with Brazil and Peru and only accessible by plane from Colombia. I plan to stay and take a trip down the Amazon for the rest of the week. I will then return to Bogota for next weekend.

Ahhh, Jamaica mon!

After a few days in San Jose fooling around with the van and exploring my travel options I stored the van at the Hotel Dunn Inn parkade in Costa Rica and caught an early morning flight to Jamaica on April 25th. Rae-Ann and her son Jerad were waiting for me in the airport when I arrived. Ok, a little history… Rae-Ann and I went to Junior and High School together in Airdrie about 33 years ago and we hadn’t seen each other until we met again in Montego Bay. We re-connected via face book and after a few messages back and forth the idea was floated to meet somewhere along my journey. Timing was such that we were able to agree to meeting in Jamaica for a week before I headed to Colombia. Rae-Ann has a time share and I was invited to share a room with her 22 year old son gratis. It was a sweet deal!

Rae-Ann and I recognized each other immediately, we hugged, I was introduced to Jerad, and off to the resort we went. After checking in we grabbed something to eat and found ourselves sitting on the ocean front reminiscing about our school days and trying to recall our history together. After a long travel day it wasn’t long before Jerad had enough and retired to the room. We were also joined by Chris and his wife Laurie. With their son in the room with the nanny it wasn’t too long before Laurie retired as well. The evening got very interesting as the conversation quickly turned to religion. Chris is a very well spoken Jehovah and Rae-Ann (forgive me if I don’t get this right) has her religion based on a number of religions including Christianity, Buddhism, and Dahrism??? On the most part I kept my religion to myself, not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise. Actually, I think God told me to shut up and listen. It was quite entertaining and at times very enlightening. The evening set the stage for the rest of the week as we spent hours discussing our beliefs and philosophies at a spiritual and personal level. No worries Les, as interesting as it was, my beliefs remain grounded in Christianity.

Equally as entertaining as the first nights conversation was to observe the interaction between Jerad and Rae-Ann. They have a loving relationship filled with banter and challenges. During the course of the week ideas would be expressed and often a debate would follow that always seem to end on some kind of common ground. It reminded me of the many conversations that took place between my mom and me when I was Jerad’s age.

We didn’t stray too far from the resort during the week other than a trip to the town of Tres Rios for a little shopping and a day at the waterfalls. At the resort, the food was pretty decent and the drinks were cold and free flowing. It was a real treat to have air conditioning and all inclusive service. There seemed to be a really good mix of people at the resort and every evening was filled with conversation, poker, karaoke, movies, and drinks. The resort organized a number of events including great snorkeling, pool side games, a booze cruise (complete with a drift by the hedonistic resort/stage), and the occasional activity designed to get people a little outside of their comfort zone (with their clothes on).

I really didn’t do a lot of homework before arriving in Jamaica so my knowledge was limited to what I had learned from television and conversation with other sun seekers. Of course I had developed a vision of a pretty island with shanty towns and big black guys selling weed on every corner. What I found was a pretty island with shanty towns with big and small black guys, women, grandmas, grandpas, dogs, cats, and chickens selling weed on every corner, in every store, on the beach, at the hotel front desk… A simple ‘no thank-you’ was never enough either. They would follow me down the street, try to put it my hand, offer free samples, throw in free junk, and otherwise hassle me until I damn near got rude with them. After that, all the departing tourists that had too much were giving it away. During a walk on the beach ‘Smoky Joe’ (or something like that) walked up with his garbage bag filled with foot long ‘clippings’. I had indicated that I don’t smoke but he still proceeded to pull out a handful of these things and slap us with them as if performing a holy ritual. He offered up an entire stock as a free sample. I wouldn’t let him give it to me (honest) and headed 3 feet down the beach before I encountered the next deal of the day. If it wasn’t for Jerad legitimately supporting the economy I would believe every second kiosk in the open market was a front to buy weed. Jerad should be proud of himself because if everything I heard was true he put 16 kids through school while buying gifts for his friends and family. Both Rae-Ann and Jerad were very generous; not only with the locals, but also with me.

Uhmmm, what was I writing about? Hold on, I gotta get some chips…. Oh yah…Ire mon! Just kidding, I’m not even in Jamaica. I didn’t like the fact that the economy seemed to be fueled by the drug trade so I have since moved on to a different country. I am in Colombia now.

Costa Rica and Panama

I knew Jenda was travelling in Costa Rica but I what I didn’t know is that I was supposed to meet up with her. OOPS!  After receiving a slightly distressed email wondering where I was we agreed to meet in Monteverde.  

I crossed the border into Costa Rica from San Juan Del Sur, Nicaragua and arrived in Liberia around dinner time on March 18th. I only stayed the night in Liberia and the next day I entered Monteverde Park. I spent the afternoon hiking the trails and then I caught up to Jenda later that day and 3 days after hearing from her. After a couple days of hiking and searching; I still didn’t see a quetzal! The park was like what I had remembered before, but the town of St. Helen has certainly turned it up a notch. There were international class restaurants everywhere and even paved streets!

From St Helen we left together and drove to the active Volcan Arenal. The volcano was socked in so we could only hear the occasional eruptions but not see any fire or brimstone. The trip was everything a drive through the rain forest is supposed to be… gorgeous, fresh, rainy, and interrupted by a mudslide that closed the highway to San Jose.

Camping in Costa Rica seems to be geared for tents as every place I go to advertising 'camping' seems to leave me in the parking lot. This was no different at Areanal and La Virgen where we went whitewater rafting on the Rio Torro. Designed for tenters, the official camp was on an island where you would need to pack you gear into. Instead, We camped in the motel parking lot. It sounds worse than it was. The blessing was that it had a nice sheltered area that I could set up the kitchen and keep out of the torrential downpours that came most of the day and into the evening. From the motel parking lot, the other camp was down an embankment, across a small creek (2 meters wide and 1 meter deep) and up the bank of the river we went rafting in. Another time I may have found myself a private little spot to camp by the riverside. After settling in for the night the motel owners thought it was important to wake me and show me a very unsettling sight... With the rain, the small creek had swelled into a mad, brown, boiling, dangerous river. The once small creek had grown to be at least 200 meters wide and about 2 meters below flooding into the motel. It was a deadly realization, but apparently quite a normal occurrence. I could only imagine what the rest of the river looked like. There is no doubt that if I had been camped anywhere near that river my van would be in the Caribbean Sea by now. Camping on the island would have been horrific (but above the high water mark as it turns out). It was a dramatic lesson learned the easy way.

Prior to the rain it was mostly class III rapids down the Rio Torro. The rafting outfitters were a lot of fun and the scenery through the jungle was quite impressive. It rained almost the entire time but it wasn’t cold until the very end. It has put the bug in me to try the class IV and V rapids I have been reading about.

The first attempt into Tortugero Park on the Caribbean side was a wash out due to the rain. The weather was supposed to be better on the Pacific Coast so a change of plans got us turned around and stuck in traffic due to a mud slide. After another detour we finally made it to the very dry heat of Jaco beach by the end of a long day. Everything I did in Jaco was illegal in Canada and most of the world so I can’t write about it. Oh ya; I did take some surf lessons. I got up my first time and many times… you should have seen me. I made it look easy!!!

Avoiding the heat, sea kayaking at Playa Samara, and chilling in the pool at Playa Coco rounded up the Costa Rican Pacific Coast beach experience and Jenda’s vacation before I returned to Tortugero via San Jose.

The weather held out for me this time and I took the boat up the river to Tortugero Park. I found a room for $15 and some really good jerk chicken but other than that the town was no screaming hell. I think there are some really exclusive ‘eco lodges’ hidden away in the jungle but I didn’t see any. I organized a canoe trip into the lagoons for the next morning but because the guide couldn’t come up with other clients he decided not to go. Fortunately there was another couple going in a motorized boat that had some spare room and I hoped in with them. We cruised around for about 3 hours and saw all kinds of birds, monkeys, plants, and reptiles. I left that same afternoon to get to the ‘party town’ of Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean Coast…

What a nightmare! It was Santa Semana and there wasn’t a room anywhere. The only street in town was gridlocked even though the entire grid is only 10 blocks long and 2 wide. Again, I ended up camping in a hotel parking lot. It wasn’t bad actually as it was quite secluded and had a lot of trees and bushes to pee behind. I would leave with the van during the day and set up on the beach with my books, binoculars, beach blanket, BBQ, bananas, beers, buds, and bun ban botion and return in the evening to my barking lot. Yeah, a dog kennel! The dogs got quite when I turned the lights off. The following Monday the town absolutely cleared out and I treated myself to a very nice $35 room with a real shower and a flush toilet. It was heavenly!

From there I moved down the coast near Cahuita where I camped on the beach and did day trips into Puerto Limon to investigate shipping the van to Colombia. I got lucky and found myself an unemployed Aduana official that bustled me around making contacts. From here I returned to San Jose to meet with the shipper and go over the details that I couldn’t figure out because of my poor Spanish. I also found storage so that I could lighten the load in South America… After all the work I did I found that for about $1400.00 I can get the van to Columbia and I estimate another $1400.00 will get it back. It was about this time when I got an email from a sympathetic blogger suggesting I need a free week at a Caribbean resort on my way to Colombia. I think I can fit that in too! I’ll let you know how that goes later… So where was I??? Oh ya…

I left San Jose with my head spinning, trying to figure out how to best use the little time I have left. I drove on to Corrcovado in Southern Costa Rica and found a gorgeous spot under a huge tree overlooking the bay. I asked the farmer if I could set up in his field, we exchanged some small talk, I made a quick dinner, and watched the sun set… Boo hoo, another gorgeous sunset alone… I am getting used to it! Any blog readers feeling sorry for me? Somehow I doubt it, but if so… maybe Turkey or the Mediterranean somewhere!! ‘Sign me up’ I say!

Anyhow… the next day I drove into Drake Bay. There were some pretty sketchy bridges to cross and quite a few creeks I had to foerd. I thought about the rains and reminded myself what could be. I set up camp, got poured on, and then watched a guy steal my cooler in the middle of the night. I even yelled at him… I wasn’t sure what it was at first and then I realized what was happening. I gave him a ‘WTF’ and got my pants on. He still took off with the cooler! I quickly realized I wasn’t going to chase this guy through the jungle for an empty cooler… Asshole! I didn’t feel comfortable leaving my van unattended in this spot anymore so I cancelled my hiking plans and left the next day. Too bad,  I think the trails would have been awesome.

 

Leaving there I crossed the border into Panama on April 12th.  I made it to the Panama Canal… YAHOO! A Major Milestone… according to the original plan it is half of the way. I see why they call Panama City the Miami of Panama… not that I have ever been to Miami! The ocean front high-rises quickly give way to the rougher city hidden behind. The historical part of the city reminded me of Havana Cuba. The canal was cool. I watched some ships go through at the Miraflores locks and then went to the museum. The city was interesting, the highways were decent, and the landscape was mostly pasture with patches of remaining jungle. It was quite pretty. I got lost driving in that @%^&%^$% city and nearly into an accident… pissed me off! It would have been my fault, but not a sign anywhere!!! I would have blamed it on the system, clashed my teeth, and threw dust on myself. They would know I was seriously upset.

From the canal I drove to the Caribbean coast by Bocas Del Torros and back into Costa Rica at Puerto Viejo again.  I rolled into town, found my favorite place with a shower and toilet and laid up for the night.  The next morning I stocked up on food and beverages and headed out for the isolated beaches for a few days of camping and relaxing.  With the entire beach to myself I practiced my TKD naked, and my Spanish lessons... naked, I sun tanned naked, and I slept naked.  The odd thing was, I showered with my gaunch on.  I have a photo but decided not to post it!  Once the groceries, and more importantly the water ran out, I returned to San jose to gear down and prepare for travelling South... That's were I am now...

So, I have decided...  I will arrive in Colombia with only the things I can carry...  I have a Spanish course booked in Cartagena and I hope I have closed a deal on a nice apartment.

Nicaragua

I know it’s not fair to the rest of Honduras but I was glad to leave and arrive in Nicaragua. I basically bypassed Honduras due to the fact that I would have to back track to see the places I want to visit. If things work out, I’ll see more of it when I am returning north. Oh man I said it… heading north… I have been on the road for 8 months now. I need to be back in Edmonton for October (unless work was kidding and I have actually been fired), so that leaves me with 6 months. It sounds like a lot of time but I know I’ll need at least a month at home to get organized; it would take me a month to drive home from here (Costa Rica) if I was on the road every day and without problems. That leaves me about 4 months to finish Costa Rica and sample South America. I really don’t think I’ll make it any further south than Bolivia unless I am taking flights. Everyone tells me that I must see the one country I was planning on avoiding… Colombia! My thoughts are Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, the upper Amazon basin of Brazil and ship north from Venezuela. Ship to where??? I will figure that out later.

Nicaragua was nice but not all that exciting. I hung out in the city of Leon for a couple of days while I survived my first bout of ‘digestive system instability’. I am not sure if it was due to the spicy kung-pow chicken the day before or a little left over stress from the border crossings. From Leon, I drove through Managua to Volcan Masaya. It was fairly straight forward other than getting lost briefly in Managua and finding myself in a small slum. There were shelters built from tattered pieces of plastic, corrugated steel, and pieces of plywood. There were a few cows and horses that were so skinny I was surprised that they could even stand. I thought it odd to find it so close to the center of the city. It looked like the ‘village’ took over what used to be a park. I turned around, took the turn I missed, and continued on my way. It was like a ‘Discovery Channel experience’ because I kept my windows up, air conditioning on, and the music playing. This isolated me from the heat, the smell, and sounds outside of my van. Volcan Masaya was a nice area to walk around. The ‘park ranger’ talked me into talking a night walk around the crater to see the activity in the volcano and to explore some caves but the guide didn’t show up.

Granada is a very nice city. It reminded me of Antigua as every second building around the central park has been converted to a restaurant or club. The street leading to Nicaragua Lake from the center has restricted traffic flow and opens up in the evening to live music and street performers. The locals were friendly... I met one girl who figured ‘it must be destiny’ because she already had my name tattooed on her breast. Even though the spelling was correct, I suggested it was probably a different Brian and found a different café. Besides that she was trying to sell me a ‘chupa chupa’ for $35.00 and I got the impression she wasn’t talking about a charm bracelet.

After a few days in Granada I continued on to Isla de Ometepe on Lago de Nicaragua ‘chupaless’. I crossed on the ferry with the van where I cruised around for a couple of days. The volcano I planned to climb was acting up and was closed to the public. Plumes of smoke and dust would regularly rise several hundred meters above the volcano each time it erupted. Without the walk my stay left me with little to do here so I left and bounced of Playa del Sur for lunch on the way to Costa Rica.

Before leaving Nicaragua I had planned on heading to the Mosquito Coast and visiting the Corn Islands but when I was arranging the trip I learned that the Italian version of ‘Survivor’ was being filmed there and the area was temporarily over-run. It’s now another destination I will try to see on the return trip. Oops, that’s twice in one blog entry.

El Salvador hospitality and Honduran corruption at it's finest

With the van fixed up and ready to go I stayed one more night in Guatemala City and linked up with Eva and Michel who I had meet earlier in Belize and were on their way back from Costa Rica. It goes to show how slow I am going because in the time I visited Guatemala they have been to Costa Rica and back again. The next day I had an easy crossing into El Salvador and landed in Santa Ana by mid-day. I had planned to stay the day but I couldn’t find a decent place to stay. The town seemed a little run down and dirty for me. I decided to bug out to a small town called Ahuachapan a little further south. It was starting to get late in the day and I wasn’t sure where I was going to stay when I found a nice restaurant by the highway with a large, green parking area. I pulled in and asked if I could camp in the parking lot for the night and the waiter went to ask the owner if it would be ok…

William came back with a better plan and suggested I could stay the night in his home. I had noticed a small brick out building when I drove in and asked if that was his home. He laughed as it turned out to be the quail coop. He assured me his home was a little nicer and had room enough for me. He suggested a visit downtown while he tended to the restaurant. The town center was really nice. I didn’t see a lot of it but I did manage to grab a coffee and watch the evening settle in on the town. I returned to the restaurant a little early as I was concerned that I would get lost on the return trip and leave him waiting for me. There were 3 ladies having after dinner cocktails and dancing with each other. I was invited to join them and take a few dance lessons. After this it got a little confusing because I am sure they said they were related to William… sisters, aunts, nieces… I dunno anymore. Anyways they asked me to come to their home and meet their father???? I discussed what was going on with William and he said ‘Ok, the girls know where he lives, just show up at the house after your visit.’ I went to the house and there was no ‘father’ there. It was weird as I was suddenly alone with 3 women in their home. I was polite, looked at some pictures, declined the cocktails, ignored the inuendo, and then indicated I shouldn’t keep my host waiting. We left and they took me to Williams place. It was no chicken coop… The home was in a gated community. It was very large and open. It was decorated with Asian furniture, had a large pool, and a view of the country side dominated by a large volcano. He had a maid that did my laundry and cooked us meals for the next 2 days. I explained my confusion to him and he explained that the ladies were no relation to him at all, but were regular customers that always enjoyed a cocktail or 2 after their dinner. Whatever!!!

William lives in the home with his 3 children and his wife who also spends time teaching in Guatemala. We spent the next day tending to his goats, shopping in the open market for the restaurant, visiting the mud geysers, and the geo-thermal power plant. We also toured the town and some of the sites in town. He was a very gracious and accommodating host.

After leaving his place I drove the long way to Cerro Verde National park. I set up camp in an open field near an ‘eco-lodge’ and geared up to climb the volcano the next day.

I walked to the base of the volcano and was expecting to be the lone climber when a tour group of about 25 Canadians rolled in and broke the tranquility. We hiked up the volcano with an armed guard leading and another taking up the rear position. It was a great day and a relatively easy climb.  I am not sure what it is, but a women in uniform with a gun and handcuffs made me feel very..... safe :)

From Cerro Verde I headed to Playa El Tunco on the coast. I camped in a motel parking lot next to the river. As it turns out the area doubled as public parking and I had to pay an extra $2.00 for enough room to set up my kitchen and extend my awning. It was another amazingly hot beach. The shade of the restaurants and the breeze later in the evening was God sent. I met an El Salvadorian lady (Juli, not to be confused with Julie) and her daughter (Alejandra). I initially thought they were sisters or perhaps friends but I was wrong and mom was flattered. We learned a little about each other while I practiced my Spanish. Alejandra was able to fill in the gaps as her English was a lot better than my Spanish. When asked I explained that my dancing was worse than my Spanish. Again the El Salvadorian hospitality was extended to me… Juli took her daughter home and took me dancing. We did pretty well and one local dude, who was pretty good himself, even commented that we shuffled around fairly gracefully for a first timer. It was a good thing she knew what she was doing.

I tried to find the town of Alegria when I left El Tunco but I got lost and ended up at the Honduras border. I decided to spend the night in a recreation area and cross the border the next morning. The border crossing pissed me off. Everyone had their hand out for a tip. And when you gave one they complained and tried to intimidate me into giving more. The Customs prick asked if I was carrying guns and asked if I had ever been in a Honduran jail. He indicated that he was going to spend the afternoon searching my vehicle. My guide being very helpful gave the gesture of wrists in hadcuffs.  I told my guide that the ‘Hollywood’ was really boring and if I have to pay the guy a tip just say so. I reminded him (less then politely) why I hired him and I wasn’t interested in playing their stupid games. I then paid $20.00 to the customs agentfor ‘special express service’. In the end I also paid my ‘guide’ $10.00. He started getting in my face because he wanted more and then his friend showed up to 'support his claim'. I asked the friend ‘Who the @$#$@#%@ are you?’ and told him to get lost as we didn’t need his services. He left, I tore a strip of my guide, and reminded him that I had been subject to intimidation tactics since I got there and I wasn’t going to take it from him. He was supposed to prevent all of that. I was in his face and not backing down. He took the 10 bucks, gave me his best 'tough guy' look and left. I wanted to smash his skull and I think he knew it. Two kilometers later I got pulled over by the police…. A young punk with a gun and a greasy attitude was backed up by 2 other retards. I didn’t have reflectors and if I didn’t want a ticket I would have to pay a ‘tip’. I gave him $5.00 and was pissed off because I wasn’t carrying smaller bills. We were best friends when we left. It’s a good thing he didn’t speak English or I may have been in that Honduran jail the last guy talked about. The second police check was 2 older guys pushing the same infraction. I told him that I already paid a fine to the last police. I showed him that my flashers and how everything else on the van works perfectly. I told him that if I have to pay $5.00 to every policeman in Honduras then I’d rather he give me a ticket. He laughed and sent me on my way. I made it across the Nicaraguan border the same day after paying a fraction of the tips I did at the previous crossing. I think it was due to the little talk I had with my guide before we started the whole process.

I am so far behind on my blog.  I will try to add something really soon about the 2 weeks I spent in Nicaragua before arriving in Costa Rica where I am at now.

Guatemala

From San Ignacio (Belize) I crossed the border into Guatemala and arrived at the Yaxha National Park. I had no expectation except to have a camp spot and I am glad to say my expectations were greatly exceeded. I was quite impressed by the Mayan ruins and the beauty of the lake and surrounding jungle. I got a great camp spot on the lake front that included cold showers and a fire pit nearby. Again, I saw a lot of wildlife and birds including Toucans, LBJ’s (my best birder humor), Howler and Spider monkeys, pacas, coatamundies???, and a small fox to name a few of the critters I can identify.  I stayed as long as my groceries and water lasted and then continued on to Tikal a couple of days later.

In my opinion, Tikal is the most impressive ruins between Mexico and Copan in Honduras. The site is huge, the climbs are scary, the views are amazing, the jungle is alive, the atmosphere was mysterious and the camping was adequate (the shower was filthy). The only change I could recall from my previous trip here years ago is the addition of wooden stairs/ladders climbing the larger temples. Some climbs are not for the faint of heart. I defiantly had the heeby jeebys on temple 5. I stayed in Tikal long enough to explore the ruins, breath the air, search for wildlife, damn near break my neck, and to lose my newly prescribed, overpriced eye glasses (that’s 2 days).

After Tikal I spent a half day in Flores unsuccessfully trying to get gas for cooking. Finally concerned that I may end up on a back road somewhere at night I left for the lake near Sayaxche without propane. When I got there it didn’t feel right. The spot I found at the lake was just a dead end road with no designated place to park except, perhaps in a farmer’s field. The town I drove through on the way to the lake seemed off too. On the way in I saw a young albino girl sweeping the veranda of their shack. On the way out I swear I saw a scene out of the movie ‘Deliverance’… An older man was rocking his chair on the same veranda where I saw the girl earlier.  He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and he was looking at me as if to say ‘What the #$%&*@%*& are you looking at?’ Leaving the yard and now walking in the middle of the road were 3 children. The same young albino girl was holding the hand of an older girl who appeared to have downs syndrome. The third child was a boy with obvious mental and physical defects. They were not inclined to move from the middle of the road and the boy menacingly hobbled to the window to beg. He had a very angry feel about him. I gave him a couple of coins and left town. I feel a little guilty/judgmental about my conclusion but regardless I’ll just say this… ‘incest is not best!’

After this I headed further south down the road to Aguateca. After driving 20 minutes off the main road to find this place I was starting to get concerned that I was going to repeat the events from earlier in the day. I finally pulled into a small store selling corn and sodas to ask for directions. I got lucky and a lady there was previously from the USA and could speak really good English. I had arrived at the right location but they informed me that I couldn’t go into the park with my car. There was a school out front and I asked if it would be ok to park there for the night. They insisted that I park at the store instead. I had to put on a show and set up the van and the kitchen so my hosts (and half the town) could see what I was up to. They were impressed by the kitchen and the bed but really impressed by the awning and my meat thermometer. They had a stack of wood and I asked if I could buy some because I was out of propane. They responded by letting me cook in their kitchen. I ate at their table and promptly started a fight between the cat and the dog by feeding them under the table. It was vicious and I was quite embarrassed. They responded by kicking the dog. It wasn’t long before we had attracted all of the neighbors who were curious about the gringo and his carro casa (motorhome). The porch was filled with no less than 30 people young and old. All the boys checked out the van and my bicycle and all the young girls seemed to giggle and blush when I smiled at them. Later, the TV was turned on and we all watched some farfetched American hero movie in Spanish. I had been carrying a pack of jiffy popcorn since it was given to me by a church group last September in California, and this popcorn finally found its destiny in the very dirty hands of some young Guatemalan kids. After the movie I could hear the voices of people singing and a guitar playing. I stepped out into the dark night to listen when a young boy noticed my actions and asked if I want to see the music. We went to the next house down the hill and slipped into the back of the congregation. Church was being held with a group of about 20 followers. I was told that church was held every night until midnight… it was 10:00. I prayed for a way out but God choose to ignore me this time. I listened to the music and said a prayer when people bowed to do so. Suddenly I was starting to pick up words I understood… Canadiense, loco, soletario, viaje, carro, Sur America…. He turned to me and asked me if I knew Jesus… I responded with ‘Jesus es mi amigo.’ (Obviously somebody important is my friend or I would not have made it out of the last town…) He asked me a few questions about my trip and I tried to respond in Spanish. There were a few Spanish ‘amen’s and halleluiahs’. I got off the hook eventually and the groups went back to song and prayer. After a while people would go to the front and ask for the groups prayers or sing a song of dedication. Finally, (and I could feel it coming) I was asked if I wanted to come to the front and share a few words… I spoke mostly in English and asked the speaker to translate for me. I just told them that I was on a journey and trying to safely find my way. I thanked God, asked for His guidance, and asked for their prayers. It was a very interesting day and a very cultural experience.

The next morning I headed to Coban after a failed attempt to get into the caves at Candelaria. If it was dry I may have made it to the caves but it was pouring, and I didn’t want to end up stuck or broke down in the middle of this road in the jungle.

I know I was really looking forward to seeing Coban but after getting there I wasn’t sure why. It seemed so different from what I remembered. The streets seemed cluttered with signs, power lines, and grime. McDonalds and a megamall had moved in and it seemed like the old charm was buried a little deeper. I did manage to get out and see some sites around town and after a couple of days the town started to grow on me. Lanquin caves were dark, damp, slimy, and musty (go figger) but Semuc Champey was really cool.

Semuc Champey is a natural area in the cloud forest with the major attraction being the point where a small stream is tributary to a larger river. The stream fills a number of amazing pools in the limestone. It’s green, clean, cool, and refreshing. After a hot and humid climb to the mirador that overlooks the river valley, a dip in the pools was perfect. Barely upstream of the pools the larger river dives into a cave. The water was violent and I thought it was like the world’s largest toilet. A human body would be a very small turd and flushed very easily. The pools are directly above the underground river. The river joins the stream downstream of the pools in about 500 meters and below a small waterfall.

When leaving Coban I drove right through the town of Tactic to get to Biotopo de Quetzal. I didn’t see a Quetzal but I had a great time looking for one. From the Biotopo I tried to make it to Antigua but only got as far as Guatemala City. It could have been interesting but I managed to find the ‘Shithole Hotel’ with good parking. When I went out for dinner I learned the hotel was sandwiched between a street filled with hookers and another street that is used as a public toilet. It was as bad as anything I can recall seeing in India. Dinner was good though. McDonalds provided breakfast and after surviving the night I headed to Antigua.

Antigua is great. I love this town. It is full of amazing restaurants, cafes, and bars. I tried to hit a different spot every night. Most places had amazing courtyards hidden in the back complete with arches, fountains, and gardens. The cities architecture is preserved in the colonial era and is really beautiful. There must be a lot of building restrictions to maintain its historical feel. Once again, I only planned to stay and study Spanish for a week but I made it two. I dropped in on some live music at different places with the highlight being when I identified the song ‘Barcelona Nights’ by Ottmar Liebert to the musician. He was quite impressed that I knew it and proceeded with a number of awesome flamenco tunes on his guitar. Most nights were spent on my own but there were a couple of nights out with my classmates Julie and Gloria and their friend Ziggy. Gloria and Julie are both from the UK and Ziggy is a German fella that spoke as much English as I did German. Amazingly Dean and Jeremiah (my cousins husband and son) spotted me in the Central Park and we spent the afternoon together wondering through the market.

On the final weekend of my stay in Antigua and there was a Christian religious celebration… (help me out here Leslie)… where it was the 40 days leading up to Easter. I’ll have to do some reading but I think the thing is that Jesus was crucified on, or about, this time and was resurrected 40 days later on Easter????

Beginning in a small puebla about 2km outside of Antigua, there was a march down the streets lead by kids in Roman soldier costumes, followed by Christians and all there burning/smoking things, people carrying huge platforms with a religious event (good vs. evil) symbolized in paper-mache and flowers. This was followed by bands, smaller platforms (Mary or Jesus, or some other saint, or some symbol), and then finally the general population. Of course there were vendors selling everything from sodas to rattling Christians on a stick (I think they were filled with candy). The road on the parade route was decorated with colorful sawdust, flowers, fruit, and plants. There was a lot of dedication, time and money spent on these beautiful arrangements to have them finally walked on by the parade procession. I caught the parade first thing in the morning and I understood that it just grew in size as they spent the entire day marching through the streets ending up at the church in Antigua. It was very interesting to watch and I can only imagine how grand the procession would be on the Easter weekend.

After 2 weeks I got all I could handle with my Spanish lessons and I left town for Monterrico on the Pacific coast. When I was almost there the temperature gauge on my van started bouncing between the top and bottom of scale. After pulling out the books and doing some troubleshooting that left me with burns from my knuckles to my forearm I decided I had an electrical problem with the sensor. The electric radiator fans (separate sensor) seemed to be operating correctly and my overflow bottle was at normal levels. I limped into town and camped in the back of a hotels garden area and spent the next couple of days fooling with the van. I found some exposed wiring (the hard way… arcs and sparks) and cleaned that up but I think the arc caused some other damage as the gauge is on bottom.

The beach in Monterrico was insanely hot. The sand was black and I couldn’t walk on it without flip flops. The surf was angry and I didn’t dare go in above my knees. I watched a few people go in and wondered if they were going to come back to shore with their clothes torn from their bodies. Everyone came out of the water on all 4’s or on their asses. Other than working on the van I walked the beach, took a tour through the mangroves in a small boat, and enjoyed the hotels swimming pool. Two days later I left for the VW shop in Guatemala City for a service and a sensor.

By accident, I found the VW service shop easily. It was nearly the end of the day and they wanted to work on the van the next day once it was cooled down. Since they couldn’t recommend a hotel in the area they let me camp in the van in their parking lot. After meeting the guard dogs and bribing them with dog cookies and half of my dinner we got along just fine. Unfortunately that was the only highlight of this venture as $400.00 later I got a major service, new front brake pads and damage to the body of my van that affects closing the side door. The wieners used the bottom edge of the body panel to lift the van on the hoist which caused the bottom door runner to bow. I am pissed off and hanging out into next week while there auto body dude tries to fix it up. I would use serious profanity here but I know my nieces may be reading this.

Anyhow, another week behind schedule but I hope to cross into El Salvador early next week… Until then ‘Go Canada Go!’ Hockey gold or bust!