Well, our journey as come to an end. Sort of. As I write this, I am sitting in the house that Jahsiah, Timmy, and I have rented for at least one month. It is a two bedroom, two bath, jungle mansion, more or less, about 2 kilometers into the jungle, off a dirt road, just outside of Puerto Veijo, Limon, Costa Rica. Manzanillo, our desired destination, sits 13 kilometers south down the main road. Mission accomplished. Now for the hard part.
We crossed into Costa Rica after spending a few days on Lake Nicaragua, La Dulce Mar, the largest fresh water lake in Central America, with two huge volcanoes, one still active, jutting out of the middle. (Pictures will soon be up, but alas, my computer has gone on the fritz and the last round of photos uploaded are on said computer, so I am writing on Jahsiah's, as such, please forgive the lack of visuals this post provides.) San Jorge, just outside of Rivas, which was the city known for William Walker's failed attempt at becoming president of Nicaragua (check out the movie Walker, staring Ed Harris, in one of his lesser roles for more information on that little side step in history) is the tiny little town that we stayed in. Because of the lake, there is always constant, very heavy wind blowing in San Jorge, and since most people only visit San Jorge as it is the location to catch the ferry to cross over to the volcano island in the middle of the lake, that does have a little community living on it, the town of San Jorge is windy and desolate. We, due to the dogs and the car, did not take the ferry to the volcano island, but stayed instead in the windswept town for two nights, getting ready for our last border crossing. San Jorge was only about 30 minutes from the Penas Blancas border crossing, the only land route from Nicaragua into Costa Rica, and as such, a very busy border. We got up early, wanting to make sure we had plenty of time to not only cross the border, bueracracy and all, but to arrive in La Fortuna, Costa Rica early enough that evening to find accomodations and then go treat ourselves to the hot springs of Volcan Arenal, as a sort of celebration that we had finally arrived in Costa Rica.
Everything we had read prepared us for Penas Blancas to be the worst bordering crossing in terms of the go here, go there, get this stamped, come back, go back over there, get this stamped, now get this photocopied game, but we found this border crossing to be much less troublesome than either the entering or exiting of Honduras. After a few hours, and one last silly round of having our car fumagated, we were driving in our destination land. Since we wanted to start crossing the country, considerably north of San Jose, we had to stray from the Pan American Highway 1 and enter into lesser traveled roads, which at times were not paved, but after our experience driving to the end of the world in Guatemala, the roads seemed just fine to us. After a few short hours, with a stop for lunch and our first serving of Costa Rican beans and rice, gallo pinto, we found ourselves in the shadow of Arenal, one of the most active volcanoes in the world, with it's last erruption in 2010. I had visited Arenal on a previous trip and had spoiled myself then with a trip to Baldi Hotsprings. The area around Arenal is filled with hot springs, some of them free and only known to locals, still in their natural state, others like Baldi, are natuarlly hot but their apperances are very far from what they once were. Built up with swim up bars, rocks that glow different shades of green and blue, water slides (a new addition since I had last been there) and full spa services, Baldi was our one moment of decadance on this trip.We spent several hours soaking in the warm waters, hoping to catch a glimpse of lava flowing down the side of the 5,000 foot monster looming above us. After relishing in our success, we took a taxi back to the hotel and prepared for our last leg, crossing to the Caribbean.
We enjoyed a good cup of coffee, our first in quite some time since the rest of Mexico and Central America exports all the good stuff back to the states and are left with Nescafe, ate gallo pinto con huevos fritos and hit the road, with our eyes set on landing in Cahuita, a town just north of Manzanillo. We didn't quite make it. Round two of car troubles, which all things considered is amazing how few car complications we had driving a 1999 Yukon with 200,000 miles on it! We ended up staying for two nights in the town of Guapiles. If you're thinking to yourself, "Hmmm, I've had some friends visit Costa Rica but no one has ever been to Guapiles", well, that's because there is no reason to ever go to Guapiles. A city on the Caribbean truck route, Guapiles had only two hotels to chose from, one would be considered a crack motel in the states, and the other was a hotel casino with rooms for over $100 per night. We chose the crack motel. It wasn't so bad, but one night was enough, we hit the mechanic first thing in the morning. Hoping it was going to be a quick fix like in Mexico, where we only had a loose shock mount, we sat in the mechanics, dogs and all, and waited. We soon learned that we needed a part, a part that had to come from San Jose so wouldn't be there till the next morning, and would cost over $200, a bocina delantera, which I still, even after having it replaced, still don't know what it is. But, when the going gets tough, we get another hostel, and a Costa Rican cell phone.
Wendy, the manager of the mechanics, adopted us. She found us a nicer place to stay, so we wouldn't need to return to the crack motel or spend $100 at the casino. She hooked us up with a taxi driver with a pick up so we could get the dogs to the cabinas with us for the night, and on day two of hanging out with the mechanics, she walked me all around town helping me get a local phone so we would be able to get housing once we arrived in Puerto Viejo. Joseu, our mechanic, even bought us each a shot glass as a gift. Again, the hospitality of Central America was more than we bargained for. After two nights in the odd little town of Guapiles, we were finally on the home stretch.
We hit the Caribbean coast and suddenly our objectives changed. Rather trying to get somewhere, we were here. But that brought on the new tasks of looking for housing, linking up with our friend Sergio Ferguson who owns the hostel we are here to help finish, and figuring out what the hell we are doing living in the jungle!
So, we have a house, we've talked with Ferguson, who in addition to working on the hostel, is now also offering tours through his company Manzanillo Adventure Tours, and we've meet some friends in this new home away from home, mission accomplished. We have arrived in a land with more trees than people, and more snakes and spiders, and mosquitos, and monkeys, and birds, well, you get the idea. Now the real journey begins!
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Ancient Ruins, Bullfights, and Nicaraguan Hospitality
The time-space continuum is warping oddly. From our seemingly endless time in Mexico, we have now encountered a new phase of passing through 3 countries in less than one week. That being said, Guatemala was short and that was our plan all along. This idea was only strengthened by our respective sicknesses, which while they were unpleasant, were not the worst of what can happen in the "third world".
We knew that we wanted to cross the border from Guatemala into Honduras at El Florido, just 10 km outside of Copan Ruinas, the town that is the hub for touring the Mayan site of Copan. What we did not plan on, was the incredible bureaucracy of the Honduran border guards. All of our papers were in order and there were no complications, but when you bring a car into Honduras, you must go through the Aduana office (Customs) and the Aduana officer must file your car on their system, SARAH. This process, which includes going to the bank and paying the import fee, plus making 5-7 copies of about 15 different documents, can take quite awhile. Luckily, since our destination was only just across the border, and we had made sure to get off to an early start that day, we were able to still get through this lengthy process and make it to Copan Ruinas with daylight to spare. We asked around at a few places to find one that A) had parking, B) allowed dogs, and C) fit within our budget. After the first two rejections, which came with looks of "Are you crazy? Dogs don't sleep with people!" we lucked out. The Hotel Marbella, recently bought by a family that lives in La Entrada, a city about 70km from Copan Ruinas, became of refugee for the next two days. Not only did Don Carlos, the uncle of the owners and the care taker of the hotel, say the dogs were not a problem, and that we could park the Yukon in the little courtyard, but Deimy, the daughter of the owners, a cute little ten year girl, who stays at the hotel Monday through Friday to attend school in Copan Ruinas, spoke perfect English and told us we could even access the roof of the two story building to let the dogs run around. The view from up top was amazing. You could see why the valley of Copan had been inhabited by a variety of people for the past 4,000 years.
The next day, we geared up for our main tourist event of the trip, exploring the ruins. I had been to Tikal in Guatemala several years before. Jahsiah had visited a much smaller site in the Yucatan, and Timmy had never been to Mayan ruins. We were told that Copan was the most artistic of the Mayan sites and that the detailed sculptures and original paint and plaster on the buildings and walkways made this a unique site. Our guide, Daniel, at Las Sepulturas, a secondary site another kilometer down the road, said if Tikal is the New York of the Mayan sites, than Copan is the Paris. The carvings were amazing and as with all ancient ruins, the energy of the place was powerful. Picturing what life might have been like in 600-900AD, when Copan was thriving, was made possible by the great care with which the site is maintained. At Las Sepulturas, where we did decide to shell out for a guide (which maybe we should have done at the main Copan site for more information) we learned a lot about the basic structure of everyday life. Copan proper would have been where the royalty lived and where everyone from the surrounding city would have gathered for festivities and celebrations. Las Sepulturas was for the middle class, the doctors, scribes, astronomers, and fisherman, while the poorest of the city would have lived in the surrounding hillside. It is thought that Copan had around 20,000 inhabitants at one point. The main site and Las Sepulturas are no longer being excavated but archeologists are still working in the surrounding hillside to learn more about day to day life. Daniel showed us on the houses at Las Sepulturas where hinges for doors would have fit. The Maya slept up on beds with doors so that crocodiles, snakes, pumas, and monkeys couldn't get to them in the night. The river would have run right past their houses, now it is anywhere from several feet to a few kilometers from where the city was as the course has changed over time. When I asked if there were still crocodiles in the area, he explained that the fisherman had killed them over the years to make it safer and easier to fish. One of the many symptoms of civilization.
After about an hour and half of translating what Daniel said from Spanish to English so that Timmy and Jahsiah could understand, my mind was tired, and my body was tired from the day of exploring. We hopped a tuk-tuk back to town. For those of you who are not familiar with a tuk-tuk, it is a three-wheeled taxi that looks like something out of a Disneyland ride. They are incredible cute and fun to ride in. It was a nice change of pace for all of us to get shauverd around for the afternoon. We had dinner at a little spot on the way into town owned by Jessica, a Dutch woman, and her husband Esteban, from Belieze. We ended up spending the evening playing darts and talking with Jessica, her mother, who was in town visitng from Holland, and Jesse, an expate from West Virginia, who now has a jade and jewelry business, Mayan Mountain, that he started 3 years ago. It was a welcome change to spend the evening speaking English with folks other than eachother.
Our next stop in Honduras did not prove as welcoming. We headed southeast, making our way towards the 3 Nicaraguan border crossings, which are all in the southern part of the country. I suppose most people hit the beaches along the Caribbean coast of Honduras, but since those roads didn't connect with where we needed to be, we went a less traveled path to the city of Comayagua. Not much of anything to see in this city, we learned that the US has a very large air base just outside of the city. We also learned about the relationship that the US and Honduras have had in the past and to some extent, still have today. The Contras, backed by the US, used the base at Comayagua to invade and attack Nicaragua during the revolution. Honduras was also the launching point for both the US backed Guatemalan coup in 1954 and the Bay of Pigs Invasion in 1961. The US has always seen Honduras as it's biggest alley and most strategic location in Central America. Another odd fact though, is that the US deports it's gang related felons to Honduras. Between 2000 and 2004, some 20,000 felons were deported to Central America, mainly Honduras, even if they weren't from there. This in turn, has fueled the ever mounting gang violence which was all too presently felt by us during our brief tour of the southern regions of Honduras. I'm sure most people that stick to the beaches and the bay islands never see much of this, but it encouraged us to keep moving and get to Nicaragua as quickly as possible, and we're from Oakland, mind you.
After a brief stint in Honduras, we were to the Nicarguan border, and boy, if we thought it was buracratic getting into Honduras, getting out was even harder! The same deal of photocopy this, then go here, then photocopy that, then go there. And at these border crossings, all of this is happening in Spanish, with me as the main translator. If I thought I was good at speaking and understanding Spanish before, I certainly am now. All in all, between getting out of Honduras and into Nicaragua, which was equally as buracratic but hundreds of times friendly, this border crossing took about 3 to 4 hours. Once we were finally through, we made our way to Somoto, a smallish city just 20 km from the border. This region was the hardest hit during the revolution due to it's close location to that same base in Comayagua, but you would never know that based on the friendliness of the folks in town. Somoto is also known for being the birthplace of the Rio Coco, the longest river in Central America, and one of the draws of staying there is to go explore the canyon and the river. You can hire a guide and go on a 7 hour tour, a 3 hour tour, or if you have a car, you can drive up to the where the tours end and explore the river on your own. We opted for this option. We paid the entrance fee and headed down to find the river.
We started our walk, crossing the river and taking a path. We let LaDainian off leash. He took off running. He did a few laps and circled back behind us. He likes to check the perimeter. We walked for a few minutes before he took off, away from the river, he wasn't coming back when we called, and then we heard bellows. Cows, making noise, lots of noise, we were all yelling for LaDainain to come back, more cows, more noise. LaDainian had attacked a bull. He was hanging from it's neck when Jahsiah finally caught up with them. Jahsiah pulled him off, but now the cows were pissed. They started advancing and headbutting Jahsiah. He was pulling LaDainian away while the cows were pushing them out of their territory. I had no choice but to stay back as I still had Isabelle on the leash with me and the last thing the situation needed was another dog next to those cows. Finally, Jahsiah and LaDainian got far enough away that the cows retreated to their grazing space. After getting the dogs back to the car, I went to speak with the owner of the cows and the bull that had been attacked. The owner wasn't mad and once I explained that LaDainain didn't have rabies and had had his shots, he was more relaxed. I told him I wanted to give him money to help cover the medial costs. I asked to see the cow, at the time I didn't know it was a bull, and he took me around to where the cows were hiding. The bull had puncture wounds on his neck and up and down his two front legs, but overall he was fine. I went back to the car, got some money, and returned to give it to the owner. He seemed reluctant to take it, saying that the cow was fine, but for my own piece of mind, I insisted. We decided to stay a little longer and enjoy the river, with dogs safely stashed in the car. The canyon was beautiful and after all the commotion, it was refreshing to swim in the river. When some cows headed down towards the river by where we were swimming, Jahsiah suggested we take off, still a little troubled from his cow episode. He had the right idea though, as we still had to drive to Leon and it was already the afternoon.
We hit the road, drove for a few hours and wound up in Leon, just before dark, searching for a hotel. On our way across town to check our second choice, our first denying the dogs, a gentleman on the street flagged us down. His name is Mario, he is Nicaraguan and he lives in Napa, but recently opened the Hotel Leon del Sol, a very nice conversion of an old mansion. Mario is a welcoming man whose precense fills up the room. He told us over and over that we were home and to relax. There is a kitchen that guests are welcome to use, breakfast is included, with real coffee, a hot commodity throughout Central America. If you want to do laundry, you can, and anything you might need in the area, Mario can help you out with. He offered to give us his phone number so that if we needed anything in the rest of the country, we could call him for help. And his services came in handy when we realized today that LaDainain had seriously injured his foot. Mario got a vet over here for a house call, and we learned that luckily LaDainian's foot was not broken, just badly bruised and swollen, remarkable when you think of hanging from a bull's head while it's running and it steps on your foot. We have to give him a shot a day for the next 4 days and he is to be on bed rest for 8 days.
After a day of recharging and making good use of Mario's knowledge, we are feeling ready for the last leg of our journey. Tomorrow, we will head down to Lake Nicaragua to check out the largest lake in Central America and the 5th largest in the Americas. After that, we might have one more stop before crossing into Costa Rica. Then, it's only a matter of getting over to the Caribbean coast. Manzanillo here we come!
The next day, we geared up for our main tourist event of the trip, exploring the ruins. I had been to Tikal in Guatemala several years before. Jahsiah had visited a much smaller site in the Yucatan, and Timmy had never been to Mayan ruins. We were told that Copan was the most artistic of the Mayan sites and that the detailed sculptures and original paint and plaster on the buildings and walkways made this a unique site. Our guide, Daniel, at Las Sepulturas, a secondary site another kilometer down the road, said if Tikal is the New York of the Mayan sites, than Copan is the Paris. The carvings were amazing and as with all ancient ruins, the energy of the place was powerful. Picturing what life might have been like in 600-900AD, when Copan was thriving, was made possible by the great care with which the site is maintained. At Las Sepulturas, where we did decide to shell out for a guide (which maybe we should have done at the main Copan site for more information) we learned a lot about the basic structure of everyday life. Copan proper would have been where the royalty lived and where everyone from the surrounding city would have gathered for festivities and celebrations. Las Sepulturas was for the middle class, the doctors, scribes, astronomers, and fisherman, while the poorest of the city would have lived in the surrounding hillside. It is thought that Copan had around 20,000 inhabitants at one point. The main site and Las Sepulturas are no longer being excavated but archeologists are still working in the surrounding hillside to learn more about day to day life. Daniel showed us on the houses at Las Sepulturas where hinges for doors would have fit. The Maya slept up on beds with doors so that crocodiles, snakes, pumas, and monkeys couldn't get to them in the night. The river would have run right past their houses, now it is anywhere from several feet to a few kilometers from where the city was as the course has changed over time. When I asked if there were still crocodiles in the area, he explained that the fisherman had killed them over the years to make it safer and easier to fish. One of the many symptoms of civilization.
After about an hour and half of translating what Daniel said from Spanish to English so that Timmy and Jahsiah could understand, my mind was tired, and my body was tired from the day of exploring. We hopped a tuk-tuk back to town. For those of you who are not familiar with a tuk-tuk, it is a three-wheeled taxi that looks like something out of a Disneyland ride. They are incredible cute and fun to ride in. It was a nice change of pace for all of us to get shauverd around for the afternoon. We had dinner at a little spot on the way into town owned by Jessica, a Dutch woman, and her husband Esteban, from Belieze. We ended up spending the evening playing darts and talking with Jessica, her mother, who was in town visitng from Holland, and Jesse, an expate from West Virginia, who now has a jade and jewelry business, Mayan Mountain, that he started 3 years ago. It was a welcome change to spend the evening speaking English with folks other than eachother.
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| Jahsiah and Timmy taking a break at Copan |
Our next stop in Honduras did not prove as welcoming. We headed southeast, making our way towards the 3 Nicaraguan border crossings, which are all in the southern part of the country. I suppose most people hit the beaches along the Caribbean coast of Honduras, but since those roads didn't connect with where we needed to be, we went a less traveled path to the city of Comayagua. Not much of anything to see in this city, we learned that the US has a very large air base just outside of the city. We also learned about the relationship that the US and Honduras have had in the past and to some extent, still have today. The Contras, backed by the US, used the base at Comayagua to invade and attack Nicaragua during the revolution. Honduras was also the launching point for both the US backed Guatemalan coup in 1954 and the Bay of Pigs Invasion in 1961. The US has always seen Honduras as it's biggest alley and most strategic location in Central America. Another odd fact though, is that the US deports it's gang related felons to Honduras. Between 2000 and 2004, some 20,000 felons were deported to Central America, mainly Honduras, even if they weren't from there. This in turn, has fueled the ever mounting gang violence which was all too presently felt by us during our brief tour of the southern regions of Honduras. I'm sure most people that stick to the beaches and the bay islands never see much of this, but it encouraged us to keep moving and get to Nicaragua as quickly as possible, and we're from Oakland, mind you.
After a brief stint in Honduras, we were to the Nicarguan border, and boy, if we thought it was buracratic getting into Honduras, getting out was even harder! The same deal of photocopy this, then go here, then photocopy that, then go there. And at these border crossings, all of this is happening in Spanish, with me as the main translator. If I thought I was good at speaking and understanding Spanish before, I certainly am now. All in all, between getting out of Honduras and into Nicaragua, which was equally as buracratic but hundreds of times friendly, this border crossing took about 3 to 4 hours. Once we were finally through, we made our way to Somoto, a smallish city just 20 km from the border. This region was the hardest hit during the revolution due to it's close location to that same base in Comayagua, but you would never know that based on the friendliness of the folks in town. Somoto is also known for being the birthplace of the Rio Coco, the longest river in Central America, and one of the draws of staying there is to go explore the canyon and the river. You can hire a guide and go on a 7 hour tour, a 3 hour tour, or if you have a car, you can drive up to the where the tours end and explore the river on your own. We opted for this option. We paid the entrance fee and headed down to find the river.
We started our walk, crossing the river and taking a path. We let LaDainian off leash. He took off running. He did a few laps and circled back behind us. He likes to check the perimeter. We walked for a few minutes before he took off, away from the river, he wasn't coming back when we called, and then we heard bellows. Cows, making noise, lots of noise, we were all yelling for LaDainain to come back, more cows, more noise. LaDainian had attacked a bull. He was hanging from it's neck when Jahsiah finally caught up with them. Jahsiah pulled him off, but now the cows were pissed. They started advancing and headbutting Jahsiah. He was pulling LaDainian away while the cows were pushing them out of their territory. I had no choice but to stay back as I still had Isabelle on the leash with me and the last thing the situation needed was another dog next to those cows. Finally, Jahsiah and LaDainian got far enough away that the cows retreated to their grazing space. After getting the dogs back to the car, I went to speak with the owner of the cows and the bull that had been attacked. The owner wasn't mad and once I explained that LaDainain didn't have rabies and had had his shots, he was more relaxed. I told him I wanted to give him money to help cover the medial costs. I asked to see the cow, at the time I didn't know it was a bull, and he took me around to where the cows were hiding. The bull had puncture wounds on his neck and up and down his two front legs, but overall he was fine. I went back to the car, got some money, and returned to give it to the owner. He seemed reluctant to take it, saying that the cow was fine, but for my own piece of mind, I insisted. We decided to stay a little longer and enjoy the river, with dogs safely stashed in the car. The canyon was beautiful and after all the commotion, it was refreshing to swim in the river. When some cows headed down towards the river by where we were swimming, Jahsiah suggested we take off, still a little troubled from his cow episode. He had the right idea though, as we still had to drive to Leon and it was already the afternoon.
We hit the road, drove for a few hours and wound up in Leon, just before dark, searching for a hotel. On our way across town to check our second choice, our first denying the dogs, a gentleman on the street flagged us down. His name is Mario, he is Nicaraguan and he lives in Napa, but recently opened the Hotel Leon del Sol, a very nice conversion of an old mansion. Mario is a welcoming man whose precense fills up the room. He told us over and over that we were home and to relax. There is a kitchen that guests are welcome to use, breakfast is included, with real coffee, a hot commodity throughout Central America. If you want to do laundry, you can, and anything you might need in the area, Mario can help you out with. He offered to give us his phone number so that if we needed anything in the rest of the country, we could call him for help. And his services came in handy when we realized today that LaDainain had seriously injured his foot. Mario got a vet over here for a house call, and we learned that luckily LaDainian's foot was not broken, just badly bruised and swollen, remarkable when you think of hanging from a bull's head while it's running and it steps on your foot. We have to give him a shot a day for the next 4 days and he is to be on bed rest for 8 days.
After a day of recharging and making good use of Mario's knowledge, we are feeling ready for the last leg of our journey. Tomorrow, we will head down to Lake Nicaragua to check out the largest lake in Central America and the 5th largest in the Americas. After that, we might have one more stop before crossing into Costa Rica. Then, it's only a matter of getting over to the Caribbean coast. Manzanillo here we come!
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| Leon Street Corner at Sunset. |
Thursday, January 10, 2013
From the windiest place in the world to Ballermala
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| Wind Power at La Ventosa |
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| Real Madre, San Cristobal de las Casas at night |
After our last Mexican stop, we were ready for our next country, Guatemala. Driving south from San Cristobal, we came out of the Sierra Madre de Chiapas and entered into a low, hot valley, where Ciudad Cuauhtemoc on the Mexican side, meets La Mesilla on the Guatemalan side. This border crossing had been recommended by a few other travelers and from what I had researched, was to be a simple, no hassle crossing. It was. We still had to go through the protocol of getting the car fumigated, dogs paper's checked, our passports stamped and processed, with stops on both the Mexican side for exiting and the Guatemalan side for entering. It took about two hours all said and done, but was easy and everything went smoothly. We drove on for a few hours, not sure if we were going to make it all the way to Panajachel, in the Lago de Atitlan region, or need to stop before in either Huehuetenango or Queztaltenango. We ended up only getting as far as Huehuetenango, up in the Cuchumantes Mountain range.We had been shocked by the height of the mountains of Chiapas, but the Cuchumantes made those look like foothills. Jutting up out of nowhere, we left the hot, muggy valley of La Mesilla and began climbing, higher and higher towards the clouds. Some of the most dramatic landscapes any of us had every seen, we spent the next few hours in awe of where we were.
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| Scenes from our drive through the Cuchumantes Mountains |
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| No Man's Land, truly untouched earth. |
Our first night in Guatemala, in Huehue was pleasant and we were all feeling elated at how easy a time we were having in dangerous, scary, difficult Guatemala. Our hotel was a 125 year building that had the feel of nobility and we went to dinner at a nice restaurant, sitting upstairs, overlooking the plaza and the church lit up at night. The roads into Huehue had been nice and the tempurature was perfect. But, we were soon to learn our lesson, just when you think everything is fine.....
Day two, we awoke and stomachs were not feeling so hot. We had discussed plans in Huehue and decided to change our itinerary. Instead of heading south to Antigua, another colonial city that was sure to be clarwing with hippies just come from the Rainbow gathering in Southern Mexico, of whom we had been surrounded by in San Cristobal, we decided to head due east to Coban, not Copan, famous for it's ruins, but to the the less traveled region of the country, famous for it's caves and natural pools. With Jahsiah feeling a little shaky, we set out, with confirmed directions from our hotel staff and began our drive of only about 270km. Little did we know, the strecth of highway we were driving on was more or less unpaved and our 270km took us over 6 hours to cross. Some of the worst roads in the world, taking us into even higher mountains that than day before. At one point, we came to a mountain side, thousands of feet up, that had been completely destroyed by a rock slide. One young boy, maybe 12 years old, shoveled pebbles out of the road, attemping to smooth the path. He asked for water in the scorched environement and luckily we had some to give him. Further up the road, 4 grown men had a road block in place, which they would remove for 25Q, about $3.00, a toll for the removal of boulders and the "improvement" to the highway. We literally thought we had reached the end of the world and while I tried to remain opptimistic about our course, I began to worry that we were too deep in uncharted territory. Meanwhile, Timmy had become sick, and Jahsiah was worse than when he had woken up. Despite being high in the mountains, the temperature began to climb and all of us were beginning to crack. Just when we thought things were going so smoothly.
We decided to call it quits before ever reaching Coban and the famed caves of Semuc Champey, instead opting for a cheap, roadside hotel in San Cristobal, not to be confused with the famous Mexican city. This San Cristobal had no other travelers, no Rainbow gatherers, no Zapatista activists. We were the only non-Guatemalans in this town. We pulled in and within minutes Jahsiah and Timmy retired to their respective bathrooms as I went in search of water, saltine crackers, and medicine for the weary travelers. Holding it together long enough to get supplies, I made it back to the room just in time to have my turn with the porcelain princess. We rested and tried to sleep as best we could. Luckily, the price at the hotel was per person so we were able to get two rooms for the same price as all three of us in one, so at least we had a better toilet to sick person ratio. After a rough night and some local medicine, we awoke in a little better shape the next morning, but we had learned an important lesson, don't let your guard down in Guatemala. The roads can be merciless and so can the cuisine. But the people are incredibly friendly and helpful.
Due to our weakened states and fear of the less traveled highway, we decided to forgo our Semuc Champey plans and headed south for Rio Hondo, a little junction on the way out to Copan, the Maya Ruins just across the Honduran border. A short drive, on an a decently paved road, a nice room with air conditioning, and hotel grounds with three pools, water slides, and a high drive, it's no Semuc Champey, but tonight it is, to us, the most beautiful spot in Guatemala. From Bubble-Gut-emala to Ballermala, our world-wind tour is packed with everything. Let's see what tomorrow holds.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Cerveza, Shots & Sparklers
Some footage from Puerto Vallarta, La Ticla, & Playa la Ventura... Good Times
Heat Rash, Mechanics, WiFi
I am sitting on a bed, in Puerto Escondido, in the Best Night Hotel Aldea Bacocho, outside of the more touristy part of town. our objective of this stop is two fold, get our car looked at by a mechanic and do laundry.
As we drove into town yesterday afternoon, on what was the hottest day we have had so far, the temp gauge in the rear view mirror reading 93 degrees, we passed by an AutoZone and kept our eyes open for mechanics. We drove along the 200, our highway away from home, headed toward Playa Zicatela on the southern side of the bay, to where we hoped to find cheap accommodations. Zicatela, also known as the Mexican Pipeline, attracts lots of surfers from all over the world, bringing with them an international feel and an oppressive expat scene. This in turn, created higher prices than our modest budget allowed for. After a few failed attempts of locating lodging for the night, we decided to grab some lunch and regroup. By this time, I had unbearable pain from what looked like a burn on my left ribs. I couldn't remember being burned by anything and have avoided being sunburned thus far, so I was confused to say the least. The blisters that were appearing also had me concerned that something might be very wrong. With this predicament of blisters, high prices on rooms, and way too much heat for any of us five travelers, we headed back out of town, away from the other sun soaked gringos, towards the AutoZone back on the way to the airport. We found a hotel for Mexicans, not surfers, just up the street from a mechanic who said he would diagnose our problem for just 100 pesos, less than $10. To our surprise, the room we found had air conditioning, which I've never felt such a strong sense of love for, and great wifi, the likes of which we have not experienced since our glory days of Puerto Vallarta.
This is about our half way point of the trip, or at least that is what we are figuring at this rate. Mexico has taken much longer to drive across than we had anticipated and this pace was even with us keeping good time to ensure we met up with my family and friends in Zihuatanejo. We have traveled 1,350 kilometers since we left Puerto Vallarta the day after Christmas. Hugging the 200, we have taken the scenic route through this country, but this was our intention, to see the deserted beaches up and down the coast, the nearly desolate coast of Michoacan, the Costalgre of Jalisco, the Costa Chica of Guerrero, to find the hidden surf spots not yet blown up like Escondido. As we left Puerto Vallarta, we headed for the small town of Cuyutlan, a supposed black sand beach with good surfing. What we found was a town long forgotten by the rest of the world. It had reached its heyday of tourism back in the 40's and the crumbling buildings and empty streets evoked feelings of an abandoned carnival. We rented our most basic accommodation thus far on the trip, and while the room offered less than others we have stayed in, it still wasn't the cheapest. As we drive from state to state, the prices of goods and accommodations fluctuate greatly, displaying the obvious wealth gaps based on whatever industry each state is known for. Cuyutlan, Colima does not have much to offer, but while the town itself was falling apart, there were a handful of hotels, some of them rather nice looking, for incredibly high prices. I guess on the weekends, families from the nearby port city of Manzanillo flock to Cuyutlan to swim in less polluted waters. We had larger aspirations and as such, after one short and less than comfortable night, we moved on.
Our next stop, which also held dreams of waves and secluded beach paradise, was Playa La Ticla, one of the many little beach towns along the 250 km coast of Michoacan. Ticla turned out to be more than we bargained for. Our spacious room on the corner of the building owned by Dona Maria Pasquales, didn't have any screens or mosquito netting, but the off shore breeze from the beach, just down the road, and the luxoury of two windows and a back door, created a nice constant circulation of air that kept the mosquitos at bay. Our neighbor, David, a Canadian who has been traveling throughout Mexico for over 15 years now, proved to be an important source of information, guiding us on how to bypass Acapulco, recommending our next stop along the way, Playa La Saldadita, which made it so we could stay next to Zihuatanejo without staying in it, and alerting us to the fact that when we drive across the Tehuantepec Isthmus of Mexico we will be crossing one of the windiest places in the world and that we should check the weather conditions before we embark on that leg of the journey. We ate dinner at Cabanas de Vicky, a nice open air spot with a thatched roof and great food. Vicky, the owner and the cook, is very hospitable and makes a point to come out and sit with her tables once the rush has died down. We sat and chatted with her the first night, and on the second night, we felt right at home, helping ourselves to drinks from the refrigorator and playing cards to pass the time until our meal was served.
The welcoming vibe of Ticla was much needed and spoiled us for other less friendly locations. But moments like that are the ones that remind you why you wanted to travel in the first place. Hearing stories from David (more to come on those later) and finding little towns that are as yet, still mostly unknown, these are the hidden gems that make living out of car, getting heat rashes and burn blisters, eating cup of noddles for days on end, all worth while. Lying on the beach of Ticla, watching thousands of hermit crabs dance a beatiful ballet while Timmy surfed a point all to himself, those moments are what this trip is about.
I'll need to write more to bring you up to speed fully, as we have made a few stops since Ticla that included new cocktails, a Spanish rapper performing for free and making a music video, and vocabulary lessons based on car parts. But for now, I'll pause to enjoy the air conditioning for one more night before we continue on towards Costa Rica. In about 4 days, we should be Guatemala, and so will begin the next phase of our journey.
 | |
| Sunset at Cuyutlan |
This is about our half way point of the trip, or at least that is what we are figuring at this rate. Mexico has taken much longer to drive across than we had anticipated and this pace was even with us keeping good time to ensure we met up with my family and friends in Zihuatanejo. We have traveled 1,350 kilometers since we left Puerto Vallarta the day after Christmas. Hugging the 200, we have taken the scenic route through this country, but this was our intention, to see the deserted beaches up and down the coast, the nearly desolate coast of Michoacan, the Costalgre of Jalisco, the Costa Chica of Guerrero, to find the hidden surf spots not yet blown up like Escondido. As we left Puerto Vallarta, we headed for the small town of Cuyutlan, a supposed black sand beach with good surfing. What we found was a town long forgotten by the rest of the world. It had reached its heyday of tourism back in the 40's and the crumbling buildings and empty streets evoked feelings of an abandoned carnival. We rented our most basic accommodation thus far on the trip, and while the room offered less than others we have stayed in, it still wasn't the cheapest. As we drive from state to state, the prices of goods and accommodations fluctuate greatly, displaying the obvious wealth gaps based on whatever industry each state is known for. Cuyutlan, Colima does not have much to offer, but while the town itself was falling apart, there were a handful of hotels, some of them rather nice looking, for incredibly high prices. I guess on the weekends, families from the nearby port city of Manzanillo flock to Cuyutlan to swim in less polluted waters. We had larger aspirations and as such, after one short and less than comfortable night, we moved on.
 |
| Full moon over Cuyutlan |
Our next stop, which also held dreams of waves and secluded beach paradise, was Playa La Ticla, one of the many little beach towns along the 250 km coast of Michoacan. Ticla turned out to be more than we bargained for. Our spacious room on the corner of the building owned by Dona Maria Pasquales, didn't have any screens or mosquito netting, but the off shore breeze from the beach, just down the road, and the luxoury of two windows and a back door, created a nice constant circulation of air that kept the mosquitos at bay. Our neighbor, David, a Canadian who has been traveling throughout Mexico for over 15 years now, proved to be an important source of information, guiding us on how to bypass Acapulco, recommending our next stop along the way, Playa La Saldadita, which made it so we could stay next to Zihuatanejo without staying in it, and alerting us to the fact that when we drive across the Tehuantepec Isthmus of Mexico we will be crossing one of the windiest places in the world and that we should check the weather conditions before we embark on that leg of the journey. We ate dinner at Cabanas de Vicky, a nice open air spot with a thatched roof and great food. Vicky, the owner and the cook, is very hospitable and makes a point to come out and sit with her tables once the rush has died down. We sat and chatted with her the first night, and on the second night, we felt right at home, helping ourselves to drinks from the refrigorator and playing cards to pass the time until our meal was served.
 | |
| Road to La Ticla |
The welcoming vibe of Ticla was much needed and spoiled us for other less friendly locations. But moments like that are the ones that remind you why you wanted to travel in the first place. Hearing stories from David (more to come on those later) and finding little towns that are as yet, still mostly unknown, these are the hidden gems that make living out of car, getting heat rashes and burn blisters, eating cup of noddles for days on end, all worth while. Lying on the beach of Ticla, watching thousands of hermit crabs dance a beatiful ballet while Timmy surfed a point all to himself, those moments are what this trip is about.
I'll need to write more to bring you up to speed fully, as we have made a few stops since Ticla that included new cocktails, a Spanish rapper performing for free and making a music video, and vocabulary lessons based on car parts. But for now, I'll pause to enjoy the air conditioning for one more night before we continue on towards Costa Rica. In about 4 days, we should be Guatemala, and so will begin the next phase of our journey.
 | |
| Street Scene from Puerto Vallarta |
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