He only went out for some milk

Gallery: England

all_powered_up — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 01:25:00 GMT

bitter sweetness and surreally real

The End: A Time For Reckoning

all_powered_up — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 01:09:00 GMT

No toilet too dirty, no room too squalid, no food too weird and no insect too big...even when it's in my food. What an amazing diversity of landscapes - mountains stretching into the clouds, castaway island beaches, crystal clear blue seas, humid overgrown forests with rampant, blood sucking b@stard leaches, huge air-conditioned cities that never sleep, and villages that are in the middle of god knows where. Volcanic rocks to cut-up a lost traveller's shoes, awe inspiring glaciers, paddy fields as far as the eye can see, and bright green freshly cut grass to make a man think of home...

I only went out for some milk, but stumbled through 30 plus countries, and over 200 cities with nearly 700 days of travelling, before i returned to my parents' house (home?). A house full of my furniture, my paintings, my memories...but alas not my slippers it seems. It's been a week of discovery - do i really own 22 pairs of shoes!? Is Gordon Brown really prime minister!? and how the hell did Boris Johnson become London Mayor!? Do people really still watch Big Brother, has the English verbal language really deteriorated so much and how the hell did i go without English ale for nearly 2 years...warm and flat it isn't you Philistines :-)

Over 80 flights - not bad for a guy who said he will try and avoid them, 5 robberies (plus 1 near break-in by me in Thailand, i can still picture the blokes face as i tried to saw through the padlock), 1 case of food poisoning, 6 colds and 1 bout of home sickness - so maybe i do know where home is. I've generally found travelling incredibly easy, it had become my way of life - fitting in has become second nature. So much so, that sometimes it's difficult to know who i am. Other times I've felt incredibly free and capable of doing and being anything in the world. How can someone who has never been in this position understand this? Before i started this journey i felt driven; ready to burst; i could barely contain what was inside me. Now i feel saturated, lost and tired. What a huge worldly exposure to new people and places, different cultures, different mind-sets, outlooks and of course weird and wonderful food - an unbelievable assortment of sights, sounds and smells. I'm still digesting this journey i have taken - i feel i need another 2 years just to begin to understand...

...to understand what it can mean for me. I don't want to forget, and slip back into 'normal' life. How can this experience not change a person? and yet in what ways has it changed me?

...I am really not sure.

In 10 countries I've had well over a hundred dives, to become a master scuba diver, I've had 8 days of storm swept Thailand to learn how to supposedly skipper a sailing boat, 30 minutes of leg quivering rock climbing to learn that this is one occasion where i can't get over my fear of heights - and stuff the getting out of the comfort zone thing. I've lived, breathed and thought in a foreign language. I've been touched by a multitude of cultures, religions, beliefs, and histories - from Hitler's camps to those of Pol Pot. From Angkor ruins to Pearl Harbour to Mayan temples. What an incredibly lucky person i am to have been able to have had such experiences. How can i ever forget?

So many different places, so many different memories, so many different people - how can i remember even half of that i have experienced, never mind appreciate it, do I learn from it...or do I just be.

I'm back in England now. I guess my trip is over, i don't want to believe it. I've spent the last few weeks visiting friends, family and a few European cities that have been on my list for a while. I didn't want to stop travelling. I don't have a job, i don't really have a home and the last couple of months deciding what to do have been my most difficult yet. How can i go back to the capitalist, nanny society of England after what I've been through. Surely i should be saving the world by now, not returning to old ways and lifestyles. In the end it has boiled down to wanting what makes me tick, and i think that's a challenge that makes me grow. I have so much to learn.

I don't want to spend any more time writing blogs - this isn't the real world for me. It's time to go and live my life, however that may be.

Thank you

Shane

Dublin

all_powered_up — Wed, 28 May 2008 01:35:00 GMT

For one night only...with the time difference from New York it became one night and 3 days. 36 hours without sleep, continual rain, a pint of Guinness or 3, and so it's fair to say Dublin is a bit of a blur.

I remember talking politics with a lady in the bar - she didn't know England had the pound and believed Lisbon was in Australia, so it was an interesting discussion. I know I 'explored' the Temple Bar area of downtown and the National Gallery and I know I didn't take a single photograph, I also know I woke up the next morning at 10 minutes to 12, just before check-out...

Strangely I don't feel my short time in Ireland was a waste - one photo would have been good though!

Gallery: New York

all_powered_up — Tue, 27 May 2008 01:47:00 GMT

This isn't all the pictures yet

New York

all_powered_up — Tue, 27 May 2008 01:35:00 GMT

New York

What a crazy and awesome 4 days. It didn't go with the best of starts, as I forgot to write down the name or address of my hostel - I then couldn't find an internet cafe to look up this slightly useful information. It took nearly 2 hours of wandering the streets in the dead of night with all my luggage, this might be the city that never sleeps, but apparently it is also the city that never uses internet cafes. I finally found a computer in a takeaway pizza place - the obvious location. Somehow, it turned out I was only 2 streets away from where I wanted to be. It was a knackered but tightly wound me that checked into my hostel around midnight, that's my excuse for finding the nearest pub. A pub that had served my favourite beer (Old Speckled Hen) and my favourite whisky (Oban). I may have created my own nightmare, but I ended it with some amazingly good luck. I was bloody happy to arrive.

There's something about Manhattan - a buzz, an energy, a certain look, an international vibe. There's too much going on to say what exactly it is. I know I felt completely at home, and that I was excited each day to see another part of this huge city - a city that has so many things to see and do. I went around like an idiot, I reckon I walked more than 20 miles that first day. My feet would testify to this - they hurt like hell for the next few days. I then hobbled around the city like an idiot instead. Central Park, The Statue of Liberty, Grand Union Station, The Rockefeller Centre, Times Square, Macy's, Bloomsbury's, 5th Street, 34th Street, all the streets in between these streets and more, The MoMA, The Metropolitan Museum, The Guggenheim, The Natural History Museum, The Empire State Building, Brooklyn, Bronx, Queens...a million tourists, a million workers, a never ending hive of activity and energy. Boy am I tired.

I didn't know quite what to expect from New York, even though I may have seen it a thousand times on TV. Reality is always different, and this is America, and I guess I have seen a lot and done a lot of late. My views are mixed up with my current circumstances: I can drink tap water again, I need to wear shoes and a coat, toilet paper goes in a toilet and although I sometimes need to repeat myself, people speak English. I'm sad for leaving Guatemala, and for my journey to be ending soon. I'm excited to be in a big city, to discover all these places I've seen since I was a child, to try a hot dog and to stand on a boat in front of The Lady - imagining myself coming to the land of apparent opportunity. Buildings may only be a couple of hundred years old at most, but they are big and exciting, and if the are like the Grand Union Station, they are a wonder to behold. I also like the multicultural medley of people, I don't feel an outsider here, and it's great to catch bits of Spanish, French and Polish amongst others. It almost feels like home...

Gallery: Tulum

all_powered_up — Thu, 22 May 2008 10:11:00 GMT

Cave diving and long walks

Tulum and Cavern Diving

all_powered_up — Thu, 22 May 2008 06:35:00 GMT

-Que Paso?
-Yo quisiera poder una acta de un robo

In English that translates as
-What's up?
-Would you believe that some b@stard has just robbed me?

I got hit by a camera bag snatcher in the late hours, and was then too stunned and sandal laden to do much about it. I actually feel lucky, it's the fourth time I've been robbed on this trip and the second time in a week. Importantly it is the first time I've been able to report it for insurance purposes, and apart from about 2 photos I've not lost anything that can't be replaced. My main grievance is that i lost my remaining mp3 players, and now i don't have any music until i get home. When i reported the crime i wasn't asked when, how or even what the robber looked like. This is a great near ending to my trip.

The incident aside, i have had a good time here. Tulum isn't much to look at and although the ruins are famous i never did actually get to see them. Instead i walked for 3 hours in the blazing heat in the wrong direction. I thought my sense of direction was getting better! My highlight has been cavern diving in Dos Ojos cenote. I like the way i appreciate the culture and customs and don't go just for the touristic mandate. Actually Subway (the sandwich place) was my second highlight. I've never had diving like this, very few fish and certainly no sharks or big fish and no corals. Just little things and lots and lots of rock formations, amazingly blue openings and crystal clear waters. I couldn't tell i was in water - it was so clear, like diving in a magical, surreal wonderland. I am hooked, cavern diving has just overtaken wreck diving as my most favourite, expensive, hobby. It also happens to be one of the more dangerous divisions of diving...great.

As for Tulum, it's not even worth describing. If you want to dive, you like beaches and hotel complexes and ugly towns, then fine - this is the place for you. Roll on New York i say.

Belize and the Blue Hole

all_powered_up — Mon, 19 May 2008 10:11:00 GMT

I didn't really have the time for this, and i couldn't really afford this...but there was no way i was missing out on this. The blue hole is a 122m wide, 305m deep, now completely submerged, collapsed cave. I had been looking forward to this for months - i can't believe the dive only lasted only 25 minutes!

I'd taken what should have been an early morning mini-van from Flores to Belize city. The bus was an hour late and full of gringos, who thought it was a great idea to drink beer and listen to trance music at full volume. What a shame it was on so loud that a fuse blew. Since when did i become so intolerant of my fellow western (civilised?) travellers. The driver obviously shared my sentiments, at the border crossing he parked 1/2 mile away and hid himself behind a truck - for 1/2 an hour we thought he might have left us stranded in Belize. This wouldn't have been such a bad thing, Belize has come as a surprise. A tiny, beautiful, but seemingly empty country of only 3.2 people, with a strong Caribbean flavour and a large English speaking element. Why did Britain 'give-it-up' in '81? 2 hours later than planned i catch a water taxi to Caye Caulker, another one of those dream islands that makes you want to check out the local property pages.

White sands and coconuts are everywhere, electric golf carts (but near no golf courses) 'zoom' up and down the 2 main streets, followed by a family all on bicycles. The spoken English has been distorted so much, it could class as a separate language, gospel choir music blasts out of someones tumbled down shack. It has been mixed with a reggae track and every few seconds some Caribbean guy in a thick lilt shouts REGGAE at the top of his lungs. I personally find it an improvement. I had a good chance to test my belief when one of the many church congregations set-up an electric keyboard playing, foot stomping, praise the lord session next to the building i was staying in. I sat on my balcony and drank to their good health every time they shouted hallelujah...amen and cheers guys.

At $190 for 3 dives, this is an expensive place. It's not everyday that you get to dive to 43m in a sinkhole, get circled by 9 Caribbean reef sharks - all bigger than you and enjoy the whole thing immensely through a slight nitrogen narcosis buzz. Why am i so susceptible? That's not a complaint :-) Lunch was on a near deserted island, with only a bird sanctuary and my friendly fellow divers for company. Pudding was a dive with eagle rays, sharks, giant barracudas and a hawks bill turtle - not bad that.

It's a shame my only real time in Belize is on a tourist island and that i got robbed while i was there. Someone, possibly the cleaner stole my little creative zen mp3 player from my room. It's pretty hard to make too much fuss when it only cost $50, you have no proof it was stolen and it would cost more in excess to make an insurance claim. The owners of the building were pretty good though, i half expected to get thrown out when i raised the problem.

Overall it was still a good few days, if i ever have enough money i would like see this area again.

Gallery: Belize and the Blue Hole

all_powered_up — Sun, 18 May 2008 09:53:00 GMT

Bloomin Bottoms this place is expensive

Gallery: Flores and Tikal

all_powered_up — Fri, 16 May 2008 09:50:00 GMT

fauna, flora and ruins

Flores and Tikal

all_powered_up — Thu, 15 May 2008 10:02:00 GMT

I opted for a flight from Guatemala city to Flores - i didn't fancy the 10 - 12 hours on the bus this time. As i step off the plane the heat slams into me - 90+F and the humidity to match. I will now sweat non-stop for the next 2 days, I've become adjusted to my high altitude escape called Xela. Damn, i need to get that place out of my head, and enjoy where i am.

Deep in the jungle, still partially covered in vegetation, surrounded by birds and animals, Tikal is an impressive site and worthy of its UNESCO World Heritage status. It's hard to believe that the Maya and their magnificent structures were around from 700BC to 900AD in this area - before mysteriously 'collapsing'. It's hard to get a feeling of where everything is, and the scale of the place - there's just so much jungle everywhere. I'd opted for a guide for once, and although he proves to be a smart, intelligible and informative young man, most of what he says washes right over my head and in between my ears. I should have done my usual, and spent the day soaking up the feel of the place. Even our noisy group sees lots of birds, a grey fox and several pisotes - raccoon looking things. This is a place worth seeing more than once.

I'd based myself in Flores, a small sort of island in a lake that is linked to the mainland by a thin causeway. It's an attractive tourist town, full of cobbled streets, colourful houses, gift shops and places selling tours. Tuk-tuks zoom up and down the winding lanes and there is always someone nearby who can 'help' a tourist. This isn't a bad place to be, just an expensive, slightly characterless and overly commercial one. A pity because Flores was once one of the last Maya ceremonial strongholds - untouched by the Spanish until the end of the 17th century - then the Spanish destroyed just about everything. Us conquering countries have a lot to answer for.

Antigua

all_powered_up — Wed, 14 May 2008 09:17:00 GMT

Nestled in a valley, and surrounded by volcanoes is this rabbit warren of multi-coloured houses, earthquake damaged churches and cobbled traffic filled streets. All streets are straight and run north to south and east to west around a pleasant central square. They have original names like avenue 1, avenue 2, avenue 3 etc - and yet it's surprisingly easy to get 'lost'. There's a distinct lack of signage/advertisements, most buildings are only on 2 levels and are joined together in a very understated, yet colourful, terraced row. I walked into a Burger King, not knowing what it was until i was in it. I'm just starting to recover from the shock. I didn't know what half the shops were until it was dark and they were lit up inside.

So it's another tourist town - package groups and lots of language students. I don't love this place, but i do quite like it. It has a strange charm because i think it lacks a sense of being genuine - it's too picture perfect.

I actually stayed in it for few days before i went to Xela, fully anticipating to see it again on my way back. That never happened, so this is fortunately a truncated, and past remembered account. If only they were all as short as this.

Gallery: Antigua

all_powered_up — Tue, 13 May 2008 08:53:00 GMT

post card perfect?

Quelzaltenango (Xela) part three

all_powered_up — Tue, 13 May 2008 05:12:00 GMT

I didn't want to leave this place...so i didn't...

I extended my stay yet again for as long as i physically (time travelling each day) and financially (bus v plane) dared. I have a flight booked from Mexico to the States next week. Alas i feel i must take it.

It's been an intensive and emotional last 3 weeks; a combination derived from the people I have met, my studies in Spanish and my travel time coming to an end. Michelle and her son Mario have allowed me to feel part of a family - I've felt honoured, even loved. Kim my housemate has allowed me into her confidence - I've done my best to be a friend. If ever there had been an emotionally difficult time in someones life, this has to be it. I'm not talking about just me...

So I've finished a 2nd week of study in Xela, my 5th week in total. It's a woefully inadequate amount of time. I've explored Xela's museum of culture and history - managing not to throw-up at their stuffed animals and human foetus collection - I can still smell that room. I've been shown Fuentes Georginas, a beautiful series of hot springs amongst the clouds and some cool places in Xela that maybe only 6 months of living there can let you find. I'm still not sure what it is about this place that i like so much; of all the amazing places I've seen! Perhaps it's the people that make all the difference.

It's nearly time to throw off my manacles of materialism, speak Spanish fluently, dance the salsa and be free. How wonderfully pretentious I'm sounding today...

Quelzaltenango (Xela) part two

all_powered_up — Sat, 10 May 2008 02:25:00 GMT

So it's been 2 and a bit weeks of semi-immersion. I opted not to stay with a family; right now i value my own space more than anything. Besides everything is in Spanish, my lessons, my meals, my shopping...everything. At times it's bloody difficult, and you crave to hear and talk in English. At other times it's a stumbling, hesitant, bad accented, wrong tensed, verbal joy. My lessons are generally 8am to 1pm, with different activities in the evening or afternoon. The last day of the working week is supposed to be where the students cook some food from their own country. Last week we had Cornish pasties (England - me), shakshouka (Israeli), Crepes with banana and chocolate (France), Potato salad, oaty peanut butter chocolate biscuit things and sangria (all the USA). We should of had hot dogs too, but the guy drank so much during the day that he was incapable of talking, never mind cooking by dinner time. It was a good experience shopping for ingredients, discovering how different some things are here and then cooking them by candlelight...

I tried a couple of times to turn on the oven, failed and asked Juan, the director at the school. I swear i hadn't had the gas on that long, but maybe my judgement was a bit off...i may have had a drink or three. Maybe Juan's judgement was off too...he may have had a drink or five. There was a lighted match, a little poof, and then an almighty bang. I got hit in the chest by a wall of pressure, Juan got hit in the head by the same thing. He did unfortunately have his head very near the oven at the time. The wave continued, knocked out the filament in the light bulb, and blew a load of rusty metal pieces all over the kitchen. You could say the meal went with a bang.

I don't want to leave this place...

Gallery: Xela

all_powered_up — Sat, 10 May 2008 02:25:00 GMT

home from home?

Quelzaltenango (Xela) part 1

all_powered_up — Thu, 8 May 2008 09:11:00 GMT

Xela is an interesting city, although i didn't think so at first. I Arrived late at night by a bus with some locals, a long journey and a long, slightly painful lesson in how little Spanish i actually do know. Xela's dark and seemingly dingy alleyways were not a welcoming sight. I'd come here to climb Volcan Tajumulco - Central Americas highest point at 4220m. Instead i end up staying (so far) for over 2 weeks, taking Spanish lessons, getting to know the city and some of its people, and blowing up ovens.

I like Xela, Guatemalas 2nd city. It has what i can only describe as a feeling of realness. I don't feel like a wallet here, i can usually go into a shop or a market and pay the same price as the locals. It's an interesting place too - a mixing pot of cultures. I've spent a lot of time just walking the streets. The cobbled, often steep and badly kept roads are hardly conducive for it, but the interesting vistas and the variety of people make it worth while.

In my sandled, stand out a mile as a tourist feet, i walk past old men, standing tall at 5 feet nothing-but-a-10-gallon-hat. The hat is some how dwarfed by the enormous bundle balanced on their wives head. A bundle of brightly coloured cloths, that are complimentary to the 6m (20 feet) of it that is wrapped around her for a skirt. There are literally hundreds of different and interesting faces, traditional 'costumes' and styles. My photos do not, do this place justice. I have so few photos that manage to capture the character of the city and its people. I think this is from a combination of factors; people tend to take a lot less photos of places and people of where they actually live, and I'm moving around a lot less. Also there isn't the usual language barrier, and although i register the different people and places, i feel very much at home - I don't want to intrude by pointing a camera at someone. Most likely it's because I'm losing whatever little talent i ever had.

I have a feeling here that i rarely had in Asia - acceptance. I could be kidding myself, but it feels genuine. People have been really nice here, and it seems to be for nothing more than my company. Michelle, the boss lady of my casa invited me and another guest out with her and her son to a town with a locally very famous market. It was a fun and interesting day - lots of indigenous people, a thriving market and good company. I've had the opportunity to play Scrabble with her family, and later tonight I'm going out with a local. The day before yesterday i was being taught salsa by Kim (another guest) in the kitchen of our house, and earlier i had to turn down Daniel (yet another guest) who invited me to a nightclub with him. Combined with my long discussions of a million topics with my teacher and i feel like I've been here awhile - I'm pretty comfortable at the moment.

Gallery: Copán Ruinas

all_powered_up — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 10:34:00 GMT

A pleasent way to spend a few days

Copán Ruinas

all_powered_up — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 10:27:00 GMT

It feels as if my time is running out and yet my days are getting longer. Is this a side-effect of spending more time in places? A sort of 'more haste, less speed' scenario that I've never really understood - does that saying really make any sense? If you take longer and do less, does that mean that you see more?

Some backpackers would say, that the only real way to travel is to spend a lot of time in one place. I don't disagree with this, but i know that it hasn't in general been what i want. My express train of a journey has been from a desire to see as much as possible, tempered by an unwillingness to leave a place until I'm ready...until now. I don't know if i want to stay here and i don't know where i want to go next. I've been derailed by the check-stop that's the reality of my trip ending soon. One of the reasons for coming to this town, was so that i could study some more Spanish. I've been here 4 days and i still haven't signed-up for a lesson - in fact apart from spending several hours seeing the ruins, I'm not sure what exactly i have done. I'm guessing the above reasons are why this seems to be the normal of late, and why I've been letting fate dictate where i go and how. How come travelling has just got difficult?

1 boat, 2 taxis, 2 buses and a bunch of fellow friendly backpackers sees me arrive around 9pm in Copan after 15 hours of travelling. It was cool to be part of a group for once and i had a strange morning with a Swiss guy i met - several hours in a cafe while avoiding national demonstrations and a security guard who wanted to 'f*** him up'. He demanded payment in food from my friend while we were in the cafe - that's an unusual occurrence, even by my reckoning. Still I'm in Copan now and this is a pleasant, picture postcard town. Pretty posados (inns), cobbled streets, a nice central square, mountains as a backdrop and the steep roads to go with them. There's also lots of tourists, gift shops, cafes and restaurants, a noticeable lack of rubbish, and yet again, it's not the kind of town that you would expect to find here in Central America. I like this place, it has a safe feel to it, people seem very friendly and it's within walking distance of its namesake - the ruins.

The Copan ruins are a lovely Mayan (AD 250-900) archaeological site, of a now present day heritage world UNESCO site. I spent a few hours just aimlessly wandering around the perfectly manicured grounds and clambering over what is left of the ruins. I always feel guilty for this. I decided to forgo a guide as it was $25 and i didn't feel like being part of a group, and I also decided to not pay the $15 entry charge to the tunnels as it was too expensive. Later on i bribed a groundsman to let me in - i feel a bit guilty about that too. I'd rather the money went to the upkeep of the site than into some guys pocket. $15 for less than 10 minutes of sightseeing is ridiculously expensive though. The museum (another $8) was almost as interesting as the ruins. A snake like tunnel for an entrance leads to an open quadrangle containing many of the original and best pieces. It's centre is a full scale replica of the Rosalila temple - the perfectly preserved temple that's buried beneath one of the ruins, which you can just get a glimpse of in one of the tunnels. I had a really enjoyable morning, but i wonder how long it will take me to get fed-up of seeing ruins?

I guess I'll find out over the next few weeks...maybe.

Utila

all_powered_up — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 11:05:00 GMT

Whale sharks...that's the only reason for me being here. A chance to dive or snorkel with the elusive beauties. It's probably people like me that have scared them off - this is one of the so-called whale shark seasons, and they haven't been spotted for a month. For once i doubt there will be a next time, i don't particularly wish to return here.

Utila is the western hemispheres answer to Koh Tao. A backpacker filled, churn-a-certified-diver-out-a-minute party island of almost home comfort. Pizza, chocolate, cinema, bars, pubs and clubs - all in English, all full of beautiful, fit, tattoo riddled, young divers. No wonder some people get stuck here. Not me though, I've come for the diving - 10 dives of beautiful corals, crap equipment and what i consider a lack of variety and even number of fish. I think they've been scared off too. I did get to see a long snouted seahorse though, and i almost got to snorkel with a large pod of spinner dolphins...

A few dolphins had separated from the main group and were playing right in front of our little boat. After a while the main group started to come over, the Captain judged the timing, we all lined up an the sides of the boat, snorkels, masks, fins at a ready..."1, 2, 3, GO!" arms, legs and bubbles everywhere. Mask has come off, quick put it on...arms, legs and nothing...they've all been and gone. They whizzed right on past us, only a couple of people in the group saw the pod under the water. Still, i had a couple of great dives and bizarrely one of my best was because of the rain. Yes rain, I'd almost forgotten what it is - I've only seen it a dozen or so times in the last year and a bit. This was rain to make up for all that i had missed, and we were diving it - it was bloody freezing. Going under the water was a warm relief and have you ever seen rain smashing on top of the sea from underneath it? It's a purely magical experience. Near the surface you can see the individual drops shooting into the water like bullets and the noise was strangely a comfort to me - like rain on the roof when you're wrapped up warm and safe inside. I spent most of my 2 dives floating on my back or laying on the bottom looking up, i couldn't tell you what fish i saw.

I don't really like the island, go to the back lanes of the main town and it's a dirty slum. Go to the Cays - the tiny islands off the SW coast and it's great. Development seems to have been unplanned, or badly managed and it isn't very attractive. There's a good feeling to the island though, and i can appreciate why people like it.

I'm looking forward to my next stop and for once i know where I'm going - i wonder if I'll make it this time?

Gallery: Utila

all_powered_up — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 10:24:00 GMT

A diving mecca - is it deserved?

The End Of Nicaragua?

all_powered_up — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 06:30:00 GMT

"Some things change" (my plans), "and some things do not" (my lack of time). It's a strange series of events that sees me not staying in Nicaragua any longer - as I'd envisaged doing. Due to a mix of timings, border crossings, costs, cancellations and fate i end up catching 4 taxis, 3 flights, one boat and a 4am bus to my final destination; Utila, one of the Bay islands of Honduras. It took me 3 days to do it and came as a slight surprise.

I've spent just over 6 weeks in Nicaragua, long enough to have some sense of it. In a recent International survey it scored the worst of the Central American countries for how well it's set-up to take tourists. Its also the poorest of the mainland countries as regards to GDP, is racked with inflation, and like most of its neighbours, suffers from a lot of violence. I never felt i was in any personal danger, but i was often made uncomfortable (as always) by the freak/celebrity status a Cheles (white/European) like me can attract. Rubbish is everywhere - something else i can never get used to. The environment is not a real concern, the country is too poor for that. The diet is fairly bland with beans and rice 3 times a day and yet bizarrely the population suffers hugely from obesity. A saved up treat for the family is to go and visit Pizza Hut. Beggars are everywhere, and there are many westerners who seem to only be there to exploit a poorer, developing country that is co-incidentally dominated by religion. The state is tied to the church, and from my non-religious, European basis, i count that as a huge negative. That's quite a long list i guess, and yet i like Nicaragua - i recommend it as a place to visit. It's more interesting and raw, i think than Costa Rica. It also has some beautiful parks and volcanoes and i have a lot of good memories from my time there: An idyllic but intensive life at a Spanish school, asking for a little Thursday for breakfast instead of eggs, snoozing in a hammock, making my teacher laugh and eating the best homemade pizza in the world. Having a conversation in Spanish for the first time in my life and learning the definition of guapo (handsome - and those Nica girls must be blind). Meeting westerners who do care and really make a difference to their local communities.

Ill be back someday i think.

Little Corn Island

all_powered_up — Mon, 7 Apr 2008 06:28:00 GMT

I think I've been travelling too long. Last night i watched the film Nottinghill and from my laughter you would think it the funniest film ever made. Earlier in the day my dive group was circled by more reef sharks of about 3m length than i could count (it turns out one of the girls had a nose bleed). I didn't bat an eyelid, raise a smile or even breathe any heavier - and it wasn't to conserve air. Right now I'm wrapped in a thinking bubble of my life and what to do with it - a heart versus head battle. Sometimes it's hard just to be, and enjoy the moment - have i really got less than 2 months of travelling left, 2 months some people would give their right leg for...

So I'm in little corn island, it's a slice of almost Caribbean heaven (does that taste like rum?) - it has no roads, no cars, no scooters and an intermittent electricity supply. When the lights go out at night, you can see nothing but a million stars. To get to the 'happening' spot on the island you have to walk through the jungle with a torch. You can walk from one end of the island to the other in less than an hour, passing trees of mangos, coconuts, bread fruits and many i forget the names of. The sea is a gorgeous blue, the sand is fine, almost white and the sunsets are spectacular. It's everything i don't need right now, i should be learning Spanish. Island life, bars full of ice-cold beers, nice diving sites and a realisation that there is no should in my life, and that maybe i can't do this many more times, has meant me extending my flights back to Managua twice already. This is one backpacker expensive, yet realistically inexpensive splurge. Who in their right mind gets a $30 room/house just so they can have a movie channel - they don't care about the a/c or the en-suite and especially not the hot shower. It's supposedly hot water because it has an electric cable connected to it, the reality is cold water and a really nasty shock if you accidentally touch the shower. I don't think i am quite in a 'right mind', i tell you I've been travelling too long.

I don't know where my time has really gone - 10 days have sailed by already. i know most days i eat half a fresh pineapple for breakfast (until my teeth start to melt). I know that everyday i eat lunch in my favourite cafe overlooking the sea and that in the evening i watch the sunset, hoping for an elusive green flash. I know supper tends to be warm, freshly baked coconut bread along with a pot noodle - I always wish for multi grain bread, and when did travelling reduce me to eating pot noodles! Even as a malnourished student i didn't touch them. I know most days i go diving...

How could i not write a bit more about my favourite, bankrupting hobby. It's a laid back, uncrowded setting - surrounded by some pristine corals. I've had a close encounter with a giant of a hammerhead and a very, very close encounter with a giant of a Caribbean reef shark. We were in an enclosed cavern at the start of a tunnel/swim through. Our presence startles the 'sleeping' beauty, it wakes up with frantic moves and heads straight towards me. I try to back up, but i have nowhere to go. Neither does the shark it seems - we are blocking the entrance. It's still coming towards me - do i punch or kick it flashes through my mind, but i can't manoeuvre as I'm in such a tight space. Just before (and i mean just before), it reaches me it veers away and finds a hole in the ceiling. Even this wasn't enough to create more than a split second of adrenaline. Later in the dive i spot a spindly little crab with blue claws, i get so excited that i nearly forget about the other divers...i tell you, I'm not normal.

Island life comes as a surprise after my time in central America - life is super chilled. At one point i owed 5 different bills around the island, as they all had no change. Pay me tomorrow they say - at least i think they do. They speak a mix of pigeon English, Creole, Spanish and Miskito - most of the time i have no idea what is being said. I ordered a takeaway pizza the other night (that makes the island sound commercialized, but it's not). 2 hours later, after I've made 3 separate orders (which pizza..then which size...then which thickness) i get told "we an got no bo", which i believe meant that this fine establishment has unfortunately run out of take-away boxes. I get handed an enormous, red hot baking tray with a pizza and then a tea towel on top. It was 2 more days before i could pay for it.

It's definitely time to get back to the reality of rice and beans - arroz and frijoles, frijoles and arroz, with no spam in sight.

Where to next i wonder?

Gallery: Little Corn Island

all_powered_up — Mon, 7 Apr 2008 05:50:00 GMT

I don't want to leave...

Gallery: Semana Santa

all_powered_up — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 11:02:00 GMT

God meets beer