By the Numbers and Final Thoughts

El Valle, Panama "All You Need is Love"

Total Trip Time - Approximately 154 days and 22 hours

Amount of Time in Each Country

• Mexico - 40 days


• Belize - 9 days


• Guatemala - 39 days


• El Salvador - 8 days


• Honduras - 17 days


• Nicaragua - 27 days


• Costa Rica - 9 days


• Panama - 14 days

Rankings (Favorite to least favorite: Note - This is similar to choosing your favorite ice cream)

1. Mexico


2. Guatemala


3. Panama


4. Nicaragua


5. El Salvador


6. Belize


7. Costa Rica


8. Honduras

Number of different Cities/Towns I stayed in

Cities/Towns - 43

Number of Times I Ralphed

1 - A Burger King Whopper on a boat en route to Utilla, Honduras

Number of Times I Was Robbed in the Streets, Shot At, or Killed

0

Number of Books I read (including Road Trip USA)
28 (16 in last 5 months)

Best and Worsts

Cheapest Country - Nicaragua
Most Expensive Country - Costa Rica
Best Transportation - Mexico (multiple times better than Central America)
Best Large City - Panama City
Worst Place I Stayed - Corozal Town, Belize

Most Memorable Experiences

1. Sun Rise from the top of Volcan Tajumulco in Guatemala, the highest point in Central America at 13,900 feet.


2. First time breathing under water and getting my Open Water Certificate in Utilla Honduras.


3. Going to a bull fight in my first week out of the country and loving a city I thought I should be afraid of (Mexico City).


4. Living with a family in San Pedro, Guatemala in Lago Atitlan and realizing it is possible for me to learn another language.


5. The chicken buses - the ridiculousness of them.

         And most of all...the local people I met, their kindness, the hostels and other tourists I met, the cultures and uniqueness of all the different cities I spent time in.

        This trip changed me, but only for the better. This world is filled with good people and for knowing that I am grateful. I am fortunate to live in the country I do, but its apparent from this trip there are far more happy poor people down here then happy people with money up there. Money is nothing in the end. Of course, its necessary, I need it to do what I'm doing, but I hope I never let it control me and make me a lesser person. Money should be a means of improvement. Means to improve myself and those around me. There is far less stress and far more smiles down here and I don't plan on losing that upon returning home.

        The USA is a great place and fuck all the dumb ass Americans on this trip who belittled our country to befriend dumbasses who thought otherwise. However, I do hope to see more of you (Americans) on my next journey. Travel is knowledge - understanding strips away fear. People are good and you all need to see that for yourself. There is nothing to fear. Forget fear. Learn to respect. All people have something to offer. Don't fear traveling in certain countries. Fear not traveling. Fear what you believe because you've never seen it for yourself. Maybe it is really dangerous down here. Maybe I'm completely wrong and was incredibly lucky to have nothing bad happen to me. Maybe. But I don't think so. I think these are good family loving, hard working people down here, and a few desperate souls who seem to have no other answers, give the whole region a bad name.

       I want to keep checking out this world. I want to keep learning from other people. I want to keep improving myself.

"Make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservation, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothings is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun. If you want to get more out of life, you must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter style of life that will at first appear to you to be crazy. But once you become accustomed to such a life you will see its full of meaning and its incredible beauty."

I couldn't have said it any better myself Mr. McCandless....


         The last year has been the most incredible of my life. I traveled through 10 countries. 38 U.S. states and did it all almost entirely solo. In Central America I did it with the smallest duffle bag out of any traveler I saw on my whole trip. I traveled with two pairs of underwear, two short sleeve shirts, one long sleeve, one pair of rip away pants, and one pair of khaki pants. I bought next to nothing physical on the entire trip. That wasn't why I was here. I traveled without a cell phone, laptop, or Ipod. I read books. I made three phone calls the entire trip. All to my mom. Sorry it wasn't more, but I forgot to teach you how to use Skype and international calls are expensive. I like to travel light - have what you need and need what you have...thanks for that one Uncle Ray.

Next stop Boston, then Niantic, CT for some family and friend time. Come August, I'm off again.

Espana is calling my name.

If you've been reading these, I hope you've enjoyed. It's in end of the line for Destination Nowhere - but travels will continue....

Ode to My Can of Shaving Cream

Thank you can of shaving cream, I'm sorry you won't be coming back,

but unfortunately you're much too large for my pack.

For five months, through eight countries you lathered my prickly head and face,
Without you, I would have looked a disgrace.

I bought you in Mexico, you were made in China

In all honestly, other shaving creams are much finer.

You cost only 15 pesos, the equivalant of just over a dollar,

I've got to be honest, you made me look pretty baller.

You are so freaking large and lasted so long,
I really wish, for your sake, this trip could live on...

But alas, its time to go home, and you didn't make the cut

I off on a plane without you, back to Connecticut.

The school year is coming to close

I spent two nights inside the crater of an inactive volcano. The picture in your head is wrong. This is a volcano with a crater several miles long and wide and covered in lush green. It was amazing beautiful. Two hours west of Panama City is the small town of El Valle inside the volcano. Again other than the fact your surrounded by a rim of mountains you have no idea your in a volcano. On a smaller scale its kind of like your standing in Yellowstone National Park - also a volcano, just an active one. The rain season has started in full force in Panama, but that didn't stop me and the five people I traveled with for a couple days from exploring the mountains, get a mud facial at a the hot springs, and swim in a mountain stream. Not only that, but we cooked up some epic meal dance parties in one of the most hilarious/greatest hostels I've stayed at.

Casa del Juan is actually Juan's house. When we got there he gave us a tour. He loves his place and loves showing it off. It has a summer cottage feel. A summer cottage minus the yearly spring cleaning. When we arrived we were not even sure we were in the right place because as you walk into the car portish area there are four stationary bikes from the 80's and a weight bench seemingly way out of place. He had the most interesting art everywhere. On one of his bulletin boards he had a 8X11 of four native women with their tops off. He had chickens and roosters cock-a-doodle-doing and pooing all over the place. He was also surrounded by mango trees, had a cinnamon tree (with which we made fresh cinnamon tea by boiling the leaves and bark - the bomb), lemon grass, horses, and even two crazy cute puppies. The puppies had free range of the compound, including our room and they took those opportunities to pee and poo and chew on all our stuff. It was OK though because they were so damn cute. One black (blanco) and one tan (blacky). The mother was a cute skinny typical Central American mutt. The father was the most hilarious "hot dog" I'd ever seen. He was huge - looked like a mix between a rottweiler and a dachschund. I would have liked to see that conception. We didn't watch TV - we just danced, ate amazing home cooked food (after unknowing ordering pig intestines for lunch the first day - grossest thing I've eaten on the whole trip), and breathed in the mountain fresh air. It was fantastic.

Two of the people with us were Lacy and Layla from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. They were both covered in tattoos and piercings. Layla had a mohawk, Lacy just short pink and blond hair. They were hilarious, sexy, and extremely fun company. Don't judge the book by its cover kids. These girls rocked and I'm so glad I'm not too much of a bitch to talk to people that look like that.

I'd love to get some you some pictures of Casa del Juan and our Canadian Rocker Girls, but the hard drive here in David, Panama is locked up...so you'll just have to wait on that one. I left all my new buddies from El Valle and took two buses to get me 7 hours to David, Panama. Say it like a Latino now...Da-veed. I arrived tired and thirsty - I had to pee in my half full water bottle en route - or would have exploded, but as always - I made it safe and sound.

As I near the end of my trip I thought I'd take the opportunity to list some things I will miss about my travels, some things I won't miss about my travels, and some things I'm missing from back in the good ol' US of A.

1. I miss flushing toilet paper. Although you do always get a nice look at your poo this way.
2. I miss free delicious Niantic tap water.
3. I won't miss wearing the same two damn shirts and the two damn pairs of underpants.
4. On that note, I miss sneakers, blue jeans, and cotton t-shirts. All of which I have not worn in five months.
5. I miss watching sports. I love you Red Sox. GO BRUINS!
6. I miss my language - being spoken all the time - everywhere.
7. I'm kinda of sick of three hour buses that stop to pick you up despite having no available seats.
8. I miss the USA woods. The ease of hiking without worrying some bastard might rob you.
9. I miss Heinz ketchup. Seriously, the ketchup down here is TERRIBLE.
10. I will miss the fresh fruits and vegetables and the chicken that tastes like chicken and the eggs that taste like eggs.
11. I will miss the attitude of the people. The life style down here, the friendliness, the lack of stress. People look out for each other down here, we're too concerned with ourselves up there.
12. I miss having my own kitchen, with sharp knives, and proper cookware.
13. I will miss the Coca-Cola, with real sugar in a glass bottle. Trust me. There is a difference.
14. I miss fast internet...any internet.
15. As cute as they are I will not miss kids asking me for a peso, dollar, cordoba, limpira, or quetzal. If a gave my money to everyone. I would have had to go home in February.
16. I miss my bed. Fuck dorms with lumpy mattresses and lumpy pillows.
17. I don't really miss my cell phone, but after 5 months without it, maybe I'll respect it's convenience a little more.
18. Yes mom, I miss you too and your cats.

That's all for now folks. I have four days left. The end of the greatest experience of my life is near, but my exploration will never be over...

"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."
T. S. Eliot

Silver Dollar Panqueques

              I've been moving.  From Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica to Bocas Del Toro, Panama to Panama City, Panama. Now in Panama city for three nights.  Three nights going on my fourth night.

Luna's Castle's Dining Area - One of the coolest hostels in Central America - Panama City, Panama

            After this trip I go home to the United States for a couple months. After a couple months I'm going to Spain and taking a month long course in teaching English in Barcelona. After the completion of the course I hope to stay in Spain with a job for 8 months or so. That number of months is highly questionable. My point here is, in one year I don't really know where I will be, but I like to have two things planned down the line. Two trips that is, at least until this crazy road I'm on has ended. A seed was planted in my head about taking a long touring bike trip after Spain, probably somewhere in USA and Canada . I don't know anything about biking, but it seems a pretty amazing thing to do, and anyways it's just an idea. Immediately have writing an email expressing my desire to do this to some friends I walked down the stairs of the giant mansion hostel I'm staying at and a guy comes riding into the hostel on his loaded up bike. He has been riding with his touring bike for 1.5 years. These are the coincidences in life that mean something to me. To me, these are signs.

We all have choices in this life. To go to work everyday. To buy a house, to take that trip, to buy that car. Why do you ultimately make those decisions? I'm quite sure you make those decisions based on a number of logical factors, all very logical of course, but I'm not sure all decisions need to be based on logic. This trip I'm on was because of a strange coincidence on my first trip to Mexico. A movie with a scene in it about traveling the world, which I had spoken about just before my trip was played on the first bus I got on in Mexico.

 My five month road trip around the States was basically decided because of my subscribtion to Backpacker magazine. I just became pissed reading about all the awesome hikes I could do all around the country and couldn't because I was in Connecticut. I'm getting off track here, but I like making sporadic decisions - major ones - based on something little like a coincidence or a feeling - major decisions are sometimes best made like that. My subconscience knows more about me than I do. If I tried to think about these things logically I'd just muddle it all up and wouldn't do anything. Yes, planning needs to be done consciencly, but the actually decision - go with the gut. So money willing - I'm on a bike some where in the world next summer/fall. Info or help on the subject is desperatly needed.

This trip has turned from five months into one week.  One week left of the greatest experience of my life.  Time is a funny thing.

Panama City from Casco Viejo 

Adios Nicaragua

I often don't really know how I get to where I want to go on travel day. In all honestly, when I get off a bus, if I even know where to get off the bus, I'm not always entirely sure of my next move. I never look forward to travel day. Central America doesn't make it easy, but it does make it cheap. Usually .50 cents to a couple dollars for a bus ride anywhere.

I left San Juan del Sur, my home for 10 days, and headed to Isla de Ometepe. It never ends up being terribly difficult to get to where I want to go, but I've just managed to learn to not care about knowing exactly how I need to get there. I needed to take a bus, a taxi, a boat, and another bus to make it to where I wanted to go. That much I did know, but how exactly to do that and where exactly the buses and taxis and boats were and how much they should cost were all mysteries, and generally always are. However, at the end of the day, I'm OK and I'm alive.

When I don't really know what to do I stand around like an idiot until a taxi driver or bus worker notices me. That's your best bet. You'll always be spotted, but you might get taken for a few extra dollars with that method. I used the "stand dumb" method to get to the port town of San Jorge, where the boat to Ometepe is. A taxi found me. I think I paid $2 more than I should have, but at least another dumb gringo was in the car and got beat with me.

Ometepe is crazy. From an aerial view it looks like a cell splitting into two right before cytokinesis (when they actually become two cells). The island is two volcanoes. Massive volcanoes coming straight up from close to sea level to 5,282 feet for the highest, active Volcan Concepcion, and 4,573 feet for the smaller non-active Volcan Madera. There are hundreds of tropical birds, lizards, and monkeys roaming the island. Lake Nicaragua (or Lake Cocibolca) where the volcano island sits is the 19th largest lake in the world and even has elusive fresh water sharks that managed to swim up a river from the Caribbean and effectively evolve to handle the freshwater. They were once abundant, but the Japanese some time ago made a shark-fin processing plant on the shores of the river and now there are very few sharks left. They are aggressive bull sharks known to attack fisherman and swimmers, so sadly, perhaps its for the best.

I had large ambitions of climbing one of the volcanoes for my birthday on May 18th, but the weather right now is ridiculously hot and humid. I didn't think spending 10 hours climbing up and down a volcano, dripping sweat, getting muddy, with no clean clothes to put on sounded like a great birthday present. Also, Lonely Planet mentions "deaths are common while climbing the volcano". Dieing wouldn't have been an ideal way to spend a birthday either. So instead, I did the next stupid choice and rented a motor bike. Errr....scooter. I tried to rent a motor bike. My friend with me at the time was quite confident I could just "pick it up", but after bucking and staling in my first few tries, the owner of the bike scratched that idea. Even on my 27th birthday I apparently don't have enough man in me for a proper motor cycle. But the scooter was really cute! For whatever reason the guy renting us the scooter and motor bike for my friend didn't mention that more than half the island is dirt road. Not just dirt road, but hilly, rocky, ridiculously terrible dirt roads. Absolutely no place for a shitty little scooter to be. Oh well.

The entire right "cell" is dirt, rocky, hilly road. My scooter was getting destroyed. First the real view mirrors began to loosen and just spin around as I bumped up and over ruts and rocks. Up and down steep hills. Then the floor mat padding cracked and came loose.

Some where on the second island we came to a park where there was meant to be a waterfall a few kilometers up a side road. We were asked if we wanted to walk the 4 km up or ride the bikes 3 km and just have to walk 1 more. Easy answer, we'll ride the bikes. However, the guy at the entrance failed to say the roads where at a 40 degree angle and switch backing up dirt track for 3 km (I have to say it was paved and beautiful in the beginning). My bike couldn't handle it. Multiple times I almost spun out and crashed, finally I did. With the gas all the way down the bike wasn't moving and I fell on my side and burned my ankle on the muffler. Tobias was way ahead cruising nicely on his motor bike. I was drenched in nervous sweat, thinking now how am I going to get down this? My confidence in riding was all but shattered. Tobias realized I was missing and came and took me up the final stretch and I left my bike on the side of the road. We hiked the final kilometer and guess what we found? Nothing. It's just the start of the rain season, thus no waterfall. So not only did the jackass at the bottom fail to say I might have some trouble with that shitty little scooter, he conveniently didn't mention that the waterfall we are going to see actually doesn't exist. Welcome to Central America. It never changes.

I was scared to death to go down and as soon as I tried I started skidding all over the place and nearly lost it into the woods. Luckily, even though Tobias is only 19, he seems to have more balls than me and we switched bikes for the descent. I just kept the motor bike off and held the brakes the whole way. It handled much better than my shit scooter and Tobias made it down fine.

We had the bikes for nearly 10 hours. About 5 of them over dirt roads. My bike, though not broken, was flapping plastic on both sides from all the jostling. We road past pigs rolling in mud, multiple chickens crossing the road, I think just to get to the other side, horses chased us down, at one point a stampede of cows blocked our path. The one right in front of me blocking my escape started peeing, where upon every other cow thought it was a good time to pee. That was pretty cool. Guys and girls carrying sticks and logs and bags on their heads. Lots of kids and adults on mountain bikes just living. This place is crazy. The whole time though I'm thinking about this bike that is falling apart underneath me and how much extra it's going to cost me when I bring it back in this condition. I hate this quality about me. Worrying about things I have no control over. It's so dumb. It effectively ruined the final part of my day because it's all I was thinking about. And you know what? I didn't have to pay any money extra. The guy didn't even give a care. I've managed to stop worrying about what I cannot control on travel days, but I still have work to do. Travel days always manage to work themselves out and so will other days. And so what if I had to pay extra for the bike? Why waste my time thinking and worrying over it? Dumb and dumber.

I did a bomber travel day today...from Ometepe to cross the Costa Rica border, my 7th walk across border crossing on this trip. No problems. Boarded a bus and am spending the night in the capital city of San Jose. Pretty much thinking of breezing through this country since I need to come back to fly out anyways. So tomorrow heading straight to the Caribbean, close to Panama where I'll get some reggae vibes for a couple days before heading to my last Central American country. No worries Matt, everything is gonna be alright...

Hombre Solitario

For the first two days in a city its like being a freshman. You graduate to a new grade every other night. I was a senior in Leon. When you're a senior you know all the ins and outs - of course I'm no expert of the city - I've been there only seven days, but in terms of a traveler I know all that needs to be known. I know new people that arrive at the hostel. I know how to close the door to the bathroom that's slightly off its hinge so you can have your private time after the morning coffee and where to find the only good knife in the kitchen. It starts to feel a bit like home. I can walk to the market with my eyes closed and I know the cheapest and best places to eat. In the beginning of this trip I generally only became a sophomore in the cities I visited, but now I've come to appreciate the perks of being a senior. It's not always worth attaining senior status and it's not always possible, but it's a great way to travel. 35 times now I've started over as a freshman in a new city and I've only become a senior three times. Twice in Nicaragua. All these countries are cheap, but Nicaragua might be up there as the cheapest. Plus, since its mango (.45 cents for a whole fruit of juicy heaven) and avocado season (.23 cents for creamy smoothness which makes your knees wobble and cave in pleasure) there's really no reason I should leave for a long long time.

Leon is a beautiful city in northwest Nicaragua. The many old churches are the main tourist attraction in town and lord knows (at least he should), that one CAN see entirely too many churches. The Spanish did an amazing job of spreading Christianity in the 1500 and 1600's. They built thousands of churches in every city from Mexico on down to Nicaragua. Every colonial city has five or six. Unfortunately Nicaragua, along with all of Central America also lies adjacent to the volcanic "Ring of Fire" and destroys many of the churches every hundred years or so. A sign from God saying "Stop building churches...please".

There is one very young volcano (150 years old) known as Cerro Negro (Black Hill) where some genius thought up the idea to hike to the top with a sled and have someone at the bottom with a speed gun. The record holder (87 km/hr - 55 mph) was an Israeli girl who didn't speak or understand English very well. She nodded all cute and Jewish as the instructions for slowing down and stopping where explained, but she had no clue. She lifted her feet on the board (what you use to slow down) and just bombed down the sandy, pebbly 30 - 45 degree slope of the 200 meter decent down the volcano. She set the record and as a consolation price crashed close to the bottom and received 20 stitches in her forehead. I would be setting no records. We were told once you hit 60 km/hr you have about a 60% chance of crashing. I hit about 55 km/hr. If I had another chance it's possible I would have gone to that illusive 60 km/hr - a Dr. Evil scar down my face might be good peacock for picking up girls.

From Leon I left Norway, the guy I'd been traveling with for almost a month. I gotta face it...I'm a Lonely Man traveler. I like to be Lonely Man in restaurants with my Lonely Man book and Lonely Man journal. I like to walk the streets as a Lonely Man with my Lonely Planet. I like my Lonely alone time with my book and my Lonely alone time on the bus. The truth is, there is Lonely Men all over the place - less common, but still possible to find is the Lonely Woman. One day Lonely Man will meet Lonely Woman - but this Lonely Man is perfectly happy with his Lonely self. Don't take this the wrong way - Lonely Man is not lonely. It's just the term for solo travelers eating solo in restaurants and walking solo through town. Sometimes, that's me and most of the time, that is how I love it. It's possible that gets me a few notches closer to Loser Man, but at least I'm Happy Man.

After Leon (and a couple days of beach time on the north pacific coast) I headed as Lonely Man to Granada in southern Nicaragua. Leon and Granada are both wonderful little cities, but sweaty balls hot. So hot its difficult to function in the day time. Granada sits right on the edge of the worlds 19th largest lake - Lago de Nicaragua is one name it goes by. The heat was boiling my brain and thus I only became a sophomore in Granada before severely needing some beach time.

San Juan del Sur is nestled in a little cove on the Pacific ocean. Its lovely and despite the still ever present heat there is always a nice breeze rolling through the streets. Perhaps the best thing about San Juan del Sur is the women. Not only the beautiful dark skinned, dark haired local beauties walking around, but only the cutest foreigners seem to swing through here. My only problem is I talk to the beautiful German who reminds me of the hot Nazi in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade only for her to drop the "my boyfriend...." line two hours in to great conversation or I talk to the sexy Costa Rican only for Ripple Pecks to walk over with his shirt off and steal her away. Then I think I'm doing pretty good with a cute local before I learn she's a prostitute from Managua. So it goes...

I took 20 more hours of Spanish lessons, 2 hours a day for 10 days, I got a 5 time pass to the local gym, and took surf lessons while in San Juan. I even got to be an extra in a movie being shot by Paramount Pictures in the five star hotel up on the hill over looking the entire city and ocean. It wasn't as cool as it sounds, but I did get free 5 Hour Energy's and EmergenC packets. The movie is a comedy called "Destination Wedding". I got to be one of the guests at the wedding. When the movie comes out I'll probably be the blurry out of focus bald dude. Be sure to peep it. We were there for 8 hours to in reality probably not actually be in the movie at all. So it goes...

I'm leaving San Juan del Sur on Monday the 16th after 12 days here. I have slightly more than 3 weeks left. I won't be a senior in a city again on this trip. I'm going to be moving quickly. One more stop in Nicaragua (the volcanic island Ometepe in Lago de Nicaragua) then I hope to see some of Costa Rica and Panama before my flight home from San Jose, Costa Rica. With luck and proper planning I'll make it as far as Panama City where the grass is green and girls are pretty.

Hombre Solitario hits the road manana and goes back to being a freshman...So it goes...

El Salvador, Honduras, and Day 100

A lot has happened and I've left you out of the loop. I apologize. For the first time on the trip I've taken on travel partners and I just haven't felt the desire to spend a couple hours in an internet cafe. I won't hit up everything - its been a good few weeks, I survived and traveled through probably the worst country in Central America (Honduras). Happy to say it is behind me.

Hmmmm....I don't even know where to start. Four weeks is like a good damn life time down here. I left off in El Salvador. Good country, but didn't stay as long as perhaps I should have. I'm generally a lonely man and I had a stage one clinger and had to get her off my tracks. So after climbing Volcan Santa Anna I had a do nothing day in the city of Santa Anna, let my clinger take off and headed to Honduras the following day to Copan Ruinas. The largest Mayan Ruins in Honduras don't rival those of Mexico and Tikal of Guatemala, but in a country with a terribly unworn tourist trail, it's a place not to be missed. I spent four days in the town of Copan Ruinas, located a mile from the site of the ruins. My last night in town, after a late night cantina party, while chatting merryly with my buddy, I was bitten in the calf by an angry dog. Ripped my pants and broke the skin with some nice teeth marks. It scared the shit out of me, but I was fine. Crap thing was, I needed a rabies vaccine, but I'd already booked and paid $250 Honduran Monopoly money for a 7 AM bus trip to La Ceiba. Two buses and about seven hours of travel away. From there the plan was to quickly catch the last boat to Utilla, an island off Honduras' coast - world renowned for its cheap dive schools. Rabies is only a deadly virus - I'll wait until Utilla to take care of it. However, about 14 hours after I had been bitten, on Utilla, after an hour roller coaster style bout ride where I ralphed up my delicious Burger King Whopper, I learned rabies vaccine are not located on this island and in fact, in order for it to be 100% effective it needs to be given within eight hours of the bite. Wonderful news. When untreated, a human being only survives approximately 8 days once rabies is relieved of its incubation period. With supportive care, life can be extended up to a month. Awesome. The doctor, although initially very angry with me for not taking care of this within eight hours, calmed my nerves. He confidently said all dogs in Central America have been vaccinated for rabies. All dogs? Yup - ALL dogs. I guess I don't have rabies then - phew! My friends are less confident in this diagnosis and cautiously avoid drinking from my cups to avoid contracting my rabies. Don't worry Mom. I don't have rabies.

Honduras is beautiful, but the people are stupid and that gets old quick. Also, like most of Central America, any roadside is a fine place for a landfill. Finished with your bag of chips Juan? Just throw it on the ground. Maria, finished with your bag of water on the bus? Why throw it in an actual garbage when your whole country is one? Ahhh. Look an open window! FLING!...but back to the stupid part...Maria doesn't know a light, flimsy bag won't drop down to the ground on a fast moving bus, but hit and splash the silly gringo looking out the window, half way down the bus. Why shouldn't he expect to be hit with trash while gazing at the landfill that is Honduras?

So eventually. It was time to leave the country. A great day. Easter left us high and dry because the Thursday and Friday prior there were no public buses in the country. Genius for tourism. On Saturday we had one day to make our move or we'd be stuck on Sunday. Saturday was a hell of day. A shit long travel day. Count 'em up. Two proper buses, four vans, three taxis, and a bike ride across the border finally brought us to Leon, Nicaragua. We did it nearly as best we could though. No major screw ups. So from the beginning....

We walked out of our hostel outside of Peña Blanca at 6:50 am and got Taxi #1 to town. Didn't wait long for Van #1 to take us to La Guama and Bus #1 was waiting for us to arguably the most dangerous city in Central America, the capital Tegucigalpa. Taxi #2 took us to Bus #2 where our bags where quickly ripped from the taxi and a group of bus company men where competing for our business. I took the one who stole my bag first where he kindly deposited it in the back seat of the bus - as far from the door as possible. Bus #2 brought us to Van # 2 in Choluteca, Honduras - the fourth largest city and equally crappy as the first three largest. This van needed to be push started and from the tattered foam showing in all the seats and rust and holey floor it was obviously purchased sometime in the Eisenhower administration. Finally we made it to the border city of Guasaule where the fun really began. We were treated like celebrities upon exiting the bus by eager men with wads of money hoping to rip us off in exchange for Nicaragua's currency. Guys with bikes competed with our bags. You'd have to see this to believe it. It was comical. We changed some money and hoped in the carriage of the bike guy who'd managed to steal our bags first. The borders do not seem unsafe, but they are. Apparently these guys on bikes protect you from all the bad people. Our first mistake on this journey was not securing a price for this bike trip before the ride actually took place. First they took us to the Honduran Immigration Exit and then next to the Nicaraguan entry. We waited an hour there. The bike guys nudging and pushing us forward in their attempt to speed up the process. One even waited in the other line in case it was faster. After that fiasco where Nicaragua charged us nearly all the money we had exchanged we got back on the bikes and the bike guys road us out to a deserted lot, about 250 meters down the road, which was apparently the bus station. Like an ass I mentioned I had a 500 bill in Honduran Lempiras (remember in Monopoly the 500's are actually pretty good) - so magically the price was 5oo each. That's about $25 US. Are you fucking crazy bro? We didn't even have that much and it would mean losing all our money and not having any for the final two van rides to Leon. It was now 5 in the afternoon. We were tired and irritated, but luckily Norway was also really pissed off and they managed to only take our 500 (my 500). Bastards. They would have gladly cleaned us out. We were running on pennies now, but fortunately Van #3 said they could get us to Leon. Lie. We were driven about an hour outside of Leon and before we knew what had happened the bus was stopped and the drivers had disappeared as other passengers where getting off ahead of us. So with our last 40 Cordobas ($2) we limped into Leon at 7:30 at night on Van #4 and paid for Taxi #3 after an ATM stop. It was a rough 12 and half hour travel day. We had survived though and extremely happy to have Honduras behind us. We found a place to sleep for $5 US a night and slept with a smile.

I've been shitting on Honduras pretty bad during this blog, but it deserves it. The three largest cities are some of the unsafest in all of Central America. There is trash everywhere and nearly every restaurant we went to could not manage to make a correct order for us. They even have a bill equivalent to .05 cents. Case closed.

So hello Nicaragua. One city - Leon and I'm already feeling better. Went to a cock fight. Lost a beer betting with a local. I went for the white cock - the black cock won. What was I thinking? There is always that next city, that next town, and next hostel. Nicaragua. Here I come.

Chicken Buses and the Largest Mountain in Central America

While in Quetzaltenango I decided to act on the opportunity to hike the largest mountain in Central America. Volcan Tajumulco (4,220 meters). Two days before the trip I thought it a wise idea to go to the street vendor selling lukewarm beef patties with a ladle full of coleslaw and black beans from a large pot. It was only a dollar for a heaping plate. I knew it was dangerous and gave myself twelve hours to know if I had made a terrible mistake. This was Thursday and the start of my two day hike to the top of the volcano was Saturday morning. I spent Friday night on the toilet. Liquefied. I never felt sick, just couldn't pass gas without it running down my leg. I had already paid the Q400 for the trip ($50) so I wasn't letting some bacteria in my colon let me stay home. I went anyway and it was one of the most amazing things I have ever done. Unfortunately it took nearly a week before I had a solid stool again.

I forgot to read the fine print of the trip when it said "transportation provided". The meaning of this line was "public transportation provided." AKA - The Chicken Bus. A chicken bus is a converted US school bus. Either from the 1970's or 80's. Maybe even older. All I know is they look much older than any bus I rode on the 90's. They are brightly colored on the outside with racing stripes and stickers. Over the back windows it says something about God or Jesus. Inside they've wrapped the roof with handrails and added cargo storage for bags. The roof of the bus also has been equipped with cargo storage and a ladder leads to the top from the back of the bus. The driver adds as many stickers and quotes about God and Jesus as he can fit above the window for all passengers to see he is a true Christian.

Riding on a chicken bus is definitely requires an acquired taste. At least once you're off the damn thing you can look back at it with pride in having survived one of the worlds most horrifying experiences.

"How could it be so bad Matt?" you say...allow me to do my best to portray a ride on a chicken bus.

School bus seats can barely fit two normal sized people. A chicken bus manages to squeeze three to each seat. The 3rd having to sit with one cheek on and one cheek suspended in the aisle. You get the chance to rub legs with the unfortunate one cheeker across the aisle from you. Once there are three to every seat the aisle starts to fill up with people. They push and cram their way past the one cheekers holding on tightly to the hand rail, swaying with the twists and turns of the bus which immediately starts driving before you get a chance to confirm your spot. Not just driving, but speeding insanely around blind corners and hair pin turns. They beep their horns to warn anyone daring to take the turn into the other line coming the other direction. Even when you think the bus cannot hold anymore people and everyone is contorted up in each others arms and leg as if in a giant game of Twister the bus continues to stop and more passengers get on. At one point the entire front of the bus was packed, the stairs leading up into the bus was lined with four people and one guy was swinging out the open door.

All the while people keep coming on trying to sell stuff to you. There are all the normal items for sale, such as bags of sliced fruit, bread, sandwiches, chips, drinks, candies, and newspapers whose sellers magically duck and weave through the aisles to make a couple dollars. When there's no chance of even a mouse making it through the aisle they sell their products through the open windows to greedy hands reaching out for a cold drink or loaded gun to end their life.

About every hour everyone on the bus is treated to a Billy Mays impersonator trying to sell their products to the bus. First the guy with ball point pens. He holds up a pad of paper and scribbles to show how well it writes. But wait...there's more! Along with two pens you also get two black magic markers! Look how nice they write! The audience gawks. The seller "walks" down the aisle and a few customers hand over Q5 (.65 US), suddenly realizing they really need pens and markers.

Next comes the gentleman with the mystery cream. He comes on accompanied with a photo album. Page one - girl with hideous acne covered face, her eyes are blacked out in round dark holes. "This isn't you now, but buy this cream just in case...because you never know..." Unfortunately for everyone on the bus, this cream seems to be a cure all for ALL red sores on the body. Flip of the page shows a man with grotesque swollen feet. He has athletes foot, but apparently this cream also is an anti-fungal along with being an acne medicine. Sadly, it only gets worse. Flip of the page, and we have a lovely frontal nudity shot of a man with jock rash all over his genitals and upper thighs. Now its important for the audience to know, even if you don't have these ailments now, they can happen at any minute and you need to be prepared. Lastly, a close up of a woman's breast covered in pimply bumps. This is pubescent teens dream. I scan the faces on the bus to see if their jaws are dropped like mine has been, but they all seem relaxed and gazing bored at the display of pictures. Just another day on a chicken bus! This salesman takes another approach to sales. When he finishes his picture book he walks down the aisle and hands his two ounce jar of cream to every single person. I declined. As he speaks he continues to tout its importance and magical properties. People have a chance to examine it and the longer they hold it in their hands the more they realize they need it. He collects more Q5 then he gets bottles back.

Another guy comes on later in the journey with the same hand out method. He's selling SoyJoy, fruit soy granola bars. Then the man with his bible telling everyone they have two roads. The wide one toward the devil or the thin one toward Jesus and a donation to him.

Even if you don't have anything to sell or to preach you just need some type of deformity. You could be an old lady with a swollen arm or wrist begging for a few centavos or a guy with a head like tumor projecting from your stomach similar to the two head guy in Total Recall. He lifted up his shirt for all to see and hopefully shame them into a few Quetzales.

So back to the mountain. Before getting on our chicken buses we had to organize the gear into our overnight packs and ration out the supplies. The amount of food we were bringing was unbelievable. We were 6 people. Going for really just 22 hours. One lunch, one dinner, one breakfast, and some snacks. On the mountain at about 1 in the afternoon and off the next morning around 11, but we were packing as if we were going for a week. Three large loafs of bread, a bag of onions, tomatoes, apples, two large bags of mozzarella cheese, package of sliced American cheese, ham, small jar of oil, picante, "sandwich" sauce, six bags of pasta, six packets of sauce, one giant bag of corn flakes, three smaller bags of chocolate flakes, enough instant milk to make twelve gallons, two packets of black beans, and soup mix. Along with that, two rolls of toilet paper and twenty Styrofoam cups. With my current ailment I had brought along my own toilet paper, but now had no need to worry. I'm all about being full and satisfied in the back country, but this was a bit excessive.

The hike was relatively easy and we camped about a half mile from the top so we could get up at four in the morning and make it up for sunrise. I have to admit, it was quite nice to be able to eat until you were a pin cushion, because there was zero chance all the food could be eaten no matter how hard we tried. The sunrise from the top was a top ten life experience. The horizon was blanketed in a bed of clouds like the white water of a torrent river. In the distance other volcanoes stabbed their heads through the clouds for a view. It's hard to write a picture and I'm no author, but trust me...it was out of this world amazing. It was worth riding on a chicken bus.

From Quetzaltenango I spent four days on the Pacific ocean in the small town of Monterrico and from there after nearly six weeks in Guatemala, I headed toward the frontera. The border of El Salvador. I'm in the city of Juayua (why-ooo-a) right now and its actually pretty awesome. Today, Saturday, April 2nd, there is a Food Party. Well it happens every weekend, but you get to sample all the different types of food from all over El Salvador. I'm going to be adventurous today...tongue, iguana, brain...I'm Andrew Zimmern, and I'm out!

Check out Facebook for my pictures...

Me Encanta Guatemala

Upon crossing the northern Guate border from Belize I was immediately greeted by touts for taxis or shuttles at extraordinarily overpriced amounts. $60 US to my destination city of Flores? No gracias. I'd rather walk aimlessly around Melchor De Mencos, a nothing border town of 14,000 people, thank you. Fortunately it didn't take long for the public shuttle to spot the wandering gringo. For $55 US less I was cramped in the middle seat of a twelve passenger van dripping in sweat. A twelve person van stuffed with fifteen, yet continuing to stop and pick up more passengers. The van didn't really seem to have a capacity I guess. It didn't matter that people were "smushed" against the door or sitting cannonball position between rows of seats. Apparently safety regulations do not exist in Guatemala.

After four hours of Guate public transport I made it to Santa Elena and got to ride on my very first Tuc-Tuc. A tiny three-wheeled dome shaped taxi (I believe originating from India). Santa Elena leads directly by causeway to the island city of Flores. A beautiful little city with no room left for expansion. Hopefully a city stuck in a perpetual state of being. Jumping off docks into clean blue lake water and strolling cobbled streets became my daily routine.

The world famous, amazingly beautiful, ancient Mayan city of Tikal sits an hour north of Flores. The Mayans were geniuses. Plain and simple. Mapping their cities to the sun, moon, and planets. It took modern civilization until the 20th century to know what these guys knew and were able to predict two thousand years prior. Thanks to sonar imaging it's now known that the entire city of Tikal has some 17,000 stone builders. Most still buried by 1,000 years of jungle growth. Shamefully the Spanish burned most paper evidence of the writings of the Mayans so little is still known about what caused this amazing civilization to abandon their massive cities. (An abandonment which happened well before the arrival of the Spanish). What lessons will we never be able to learn from them? Are we heading down a similar road? No...I'm not going there...BUT shit, perhaps we need to remember the importance of looking in the past as advice toward our future. Millions...billions...have lived a life time of experiences and yet we often live ours without so much of a glimpse of thought into the rights and wrongs already started and ended a thousand times over. Sadly it seems to be human nature that most of us are incapable of learning certain life lessons without experiencing them first hand. In the sake of travel, I'm all about first hand, but in the case of reaping the land for resources with no thought to the long term, to the idea of tilling more land, to support more people in an Earth seemingly already stuffed to capacity...well, I hope we all don't need to experience poverty and starvation first hand in order to learn the lessons of their root cause.

I read an interesting book in the last couple weeks "The Story of B". It made a curious point about population. In the animal kingdom, what causes population growth? Answer: Lack of predators or increased food supply. In nature, when an animals population becomes too high for the food available the population stabilizes. Always. Add more food the population continues to increase. Always. Its a law of nature. More food = more population. Stabilize food = stabilized population. It gets only slightly more confusing when you throw predators in the equation. The population will fluctuate, but still remain stable over the long term. I'm talking about this because humans are not exempt from this law of nature. More food = more population. One of the many points of the book is you cannot cure hunger by making more food. We've tried this method for years and like a child continuing to try to stick the square peg into the round hole, we make more food, and amazingly more people are born and hunger and starvation doesn't go away. Population growth is the root cause of nearly all the woes this planet is facing. Interestingly, with controlled experiments it was found populations didn't suffer when a raising food supply was suddenly kept stable. No animals withered and starved. No fighting between animals over resources took place. Population stabilized. The only problem with this theory is we need to regard the human race as part of the animal kingdom. An equal subject to its laws and regulations. Not above it, but part of it. I'm capable of admitting that. Are you?

On brighter news while taking my two weeks of Spanish language lessons in San Pedro on volcano ringed Lago Atitlan I learned about the Guatemalan Civil War. 200,000 Indigenous murdered, 150,000 missing, 1,000,000 displaced from their homes. Military soldiers stormed towns, filed the villagers into churches, locked the doors and lit the churches on fire. Babies were smashed against rocks. Some grabbed by their legs and swung head on into concrete. Unfortunately, that only scratches the surface of the horrors committed, but I'll limit it to that. The survivors rarely got off without first losing an arm, leg, or hand with the swing of a machete.

I'm a USA fan. I see the fortunate life I was born into, but I sure as hell don't want it at the expense of unimaginable atrocities like this. In fear of Communism the US, during the 1980's, fueled this war by providing money to the Guate military fighting the mainly indigenous army. Not the 1880's or 1930's or even 1960's. This happen in the 1980's, less than 30 years ago. An indigenous Guerrilla army initially in search of fare labor rights and an opportunity to own the land they worked on. The land owned almost entirely by the US United Fruit Company. Later, filled with hate, they fought for other reasons. In case there are any "God Bless America", "Right wing Republicans never do wrong", "America is the greatest country in the world" people reading this...I'm not saying this to bash my country. We have done great things and are certainly capable of greatness, but we wronged here and unfortunately this is only one of several cases where the US became involved in foreign countries for causes shrouded in hidden agendas and in the past these incidents ultimately led to the death of thousands and thousands of innocent people. (I hope with the intention of protecting our way of life), but unfortunately at the expense of innocent lives. I, as an American, refuse to accept that as OK. It's important to admit we wronged, but America is too damn proud to do that. Interestingly we are involved in yet another foreign conflict as I write this with the nation of Libya. I hope for solely humanitarian reasons, but I honestly think we never know what our government is doing. Whether our president is liberal (Obama now) or Republican (Reagan in the 80's) I think it is all shrouded in bullshit.

If I've learned one thing so far from this trip it is that we are all people in this world. Whether your American (Estado Unidense to the rest of the Americas), Mexican, Guate, Spanish, Australian, or any of the some 200 countries in the world - you bleed, you cry, you feel pain and pleasure. You're no better than any one else. The people I've met are friendly, out going, love their family, and hard working. Qualities an person would respect. Love thy neighbor. Right?

Ahhh crap....I've gone off a bit haven't I?

Wrapping up...Thank you Tio Raymundo for coming to visit for ten days. We had nice walks and roof top chilling in Antigua and amazing coffee sipping time in San Pedro. It was nice to have a companion for a time.

I've hit the road again, now in Quetzaltenango (Known also as Xela - (shell-a)) and am immensely happy to be wandering again.

Peace and love friends and family.

Belize

Currently I'm in San Pedro La Laguna on Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. I have been here a week with my Uncle Ray and I am likely staying another two weeks to study Spanish. My location will stand still and give me a chance to catch up on what I did a couple weeks ago.



Corozal Town in northern Belize is less than a pleasant place. I'm not really sure why I was there. It was Sunday and it seemed like a ghost town. Nobody was there. I found a hotel thanks to my taxi driver, but even though the road looked no bigger than the street I live on in my small neighborhood in Connecticut, it was apparently one of the main highways in Belize. ALL NIGHT trucks and cars where zooming by my hotel and thanks to "habitaciones sin arquitectos" (rooms without architects) the acoustics of my room made it feel like I was at NASCAR event. I walked around to look for a place to eat and discovered the only restaurants in Corozal town are dirty Chinese ones. I dined solo staring at posters of half naked girls holding beer bottles while I timidly ate the heaping plate of lo mein in front of me. I thanked my lucky stars the next day when I experienced no ill effects. When you travel like I am doing it is not always a vacation. It is life. Sometimes you make stupid choices. This time mine was going to Corozal Town.

In the morning I got a boat that brought me out to the island of Ambergris Caye and the town of San Pedro. Prices in Belize are about the same as those in the United States and after having just traveled five weeks through Mexico, I wasn't liking the changes. They have their own money in Belize, but it is also okay to use the United States dollar. The exchange is simple for even the most inept person. One US dollar equals two Belizean dollars. One Belizean dollar equals .50 cents US. Got it? In San Pedro the prices were terrible. $12 Belize for an hour on the internet, $25 BZ for a decent breakfast, and $10 BZ for a bag of tortilla chips. I brought $60 US dollars with me on this trip in anticipation of needing to use them in emergencies. That bastard at the Mexican border took the first $20 US from me and I turned the other $40 in for the emergency of having no money to buy beers at the bar connected to my hostel. I saved $4 US in one dollar bills given to me as change. This has now replaced my $60 US worth of emergency money. Hopefully I don't have a very big emergency.

The crap thing about San Pedro are all the damn golf carts. Golf carts are the main form of transportation. The taxis are golf carts and every fat, lazy, and old tourist that comes to the town (aka - everyone) rents a golf cart to drive around the town, which cannot be much more than a mile long (The island itself is much larger though, but mostly uninhabited). I walk everywhere so I was in constant danger of being run over by a golf cart. Once again, I somehow survived. I was thinking about diving in San Pedro, which sits next to the second largest coral reef in the world, but opted to simply take a snorkeling trip. Well worth it. I swam by sting rays and only remembered Steve Irwin after I was safely on the boat. I swam down and ran my fingers over their smooth "back". Thankfully it didn't pop its' tail through my heart. Coral, fish of all colors, and crystal blue water. It was awesome. In this place called "Shark Ray Alley" there were loads of nurse sharks hanging about the boat eating food thrown in by our skipper, but they took off when we got in the water. I was hoping to have the chance to swim around the harmless sharks, but settled for the rays and loads of other impressive looking tropical fish. It was an experience I'll never forget. I spent three nights in San Pedro. A couple days being stupidly hungover thinking I was 'as good as I once was' hanging with some younger guys. There was also a nightly poker game at the hostel and I lost more than I usually spend in three days traveling. Aside from snorkeling in some of the best waters in the world, I've been making some stupid choices in Belize.

From San Pedro I took a boat to Belize City, and got on a US converted school bus from the 70's and headed to western Belize and the town of San Ignacio. Belize (and Guatemala) get all of the United States old school buses. These are the main source of transportation. I'm telling you. Mexico's transportation is unbelievably nice compared to those countries and I haven't even made it to some of the more difficult countries of El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua. Mexico is amazing. Go there. I'm telling you. Not Cancun though. That isn't Mexico. Cancun is meat heads from the U.S. giving us a bad name getting plastered during spring break because they never learned how to drink because we're the only country with a drinking age of 21. Was that a runon sentence?

In San Ignacio I was staying in this guest house ten miles away from the main town on dirt roads in the middle of the jungle. Check some pics on facebook and you'll see. It was very nice. Jungle hikes, swimming in clear water having just emerged from underground caves, and enjoying the peaceful sounds of nature. An American family owned the guest house and lived there with their three children. One was a nine year old boy, who took it upon himself to bother the shit out of me. He was a nice kid and I had some fun with him, but it started to feel like I was babysitting after day one. We played cards, connect four, he took me on a hike, and we made paper airplanes together. It started to feel less fun. I like kids, I'm a teacher, but sometimes I want to throw them off a cliff. Does that make me a bad guy?

I was waiting in the border line to exit Belize and enter Guatemala when I over heard a couple of woman who had hired a guide to take them across the border and help them arrive safely to their hotel: "Does anybody ever just walk across the border without a guide??" I don't consider myself a special case. There are literally thousands of travelers like myself. Well, all of them have three times the amount of stuff I do, but still, travels traveling solo, crossing borders with no guide. I hear all the time people say how they wish they could do what I'm doing. How lucky I am, etc. It's not always easy my friend. In your head, you may think its easy, but when you cross that border, and realize you still don't know the language being spoken and you have no idea where the bus station is and how to get from one place to another and everyone sees that, and knows that, and is trying to rip you off, you may not wish to travel the way I and the thousands of others are. It's amazing and I love it and if you really want to do it YOU CAN and YOU SHOULD, but it's not a vacation, it's my current life. There are good days and bad. It's hard and sometimes scary. Understand what you're wishing for before you say it.

"What do you do while your in Guatamala??"

Relax, read, drink coffee, eat, walk around, sleep, REPEAT.

adios Mexico

"Life is only what one did everyday." - Jim Harrison "The Man Who Gave Up His Name"

"Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do." Johann Wolfgan Van Goethe (Quoted in "Between a Rock and a Hard Place")

"You must believe it, before you can imagine it." Mark Twain (Quoted in "Between a Rock and a Hard Place"

I had left Isla Holbox at twelve noon. The boat ride to the main land was an hour. Then three more hours on bus to Cancun. I was resting my head comfortably against the window of yet another bus heading to Tulum on Mexico's Carribean Sea when a loud "SMMASSSHH" jostled me away from my day dream. I looked out the window at what caused the noise and saw a red pickup truck careening across the highway. The driver had smashed against the bus on its right, then over corrected too hard to the left and rolled over several times before resting on its side off in the median of the highway. Everyone on the bus was stunned silent and the bus came to a hault on the right shoulder as fast as the brakes could be applied. Several passengers, along with the bus driver ran after the turned truck. I stayed on the bus starring out the window. Since I don't speak Spanish and already ten men ran out I figured it to be a bit obtrusive for me to join. An ambulance came. One person was OK, but word was there was four in the truck. I have no idea if they had seat belts on. If they didn't there was little chance they survived. An hour later another bus came and picked us up off the side of the highway. I never learned the fate of the trucks passengers.

The bus picking us up had a final destination of Playa Del Carmin, an hour north of Tulum. I had no copy of my original ticket because the bus drive on my first bus had taken it. At this point it was eight at night and I was tired and frustrated trying to explain in terrible Spanish that I had payed to get to Tulum. "Mi autobus fui un accidente y.....uhhhhhh ....voy a Tulum..." The blank stare of the bus employee indicates he has no idea what the fuck I am saying. I don't have the Spanish yet to explain my problem. Luckily after feeling on verge of frustrated tears I find an employee who knows of the accident and understands enough English to understand my problem. I got on a bus bound for Tulum successfully at 9:30 PM. At 10:30 PM I arrive in Tulum and walk to the only hostel I know of within walking distance. The cheap dorm beds are full. Of course their full. I decide to pay $350 pesos (about $30 US) for a private room. It is the most I've had to pay for a night on the whole trip. The room is terrible, the sheets are terrible, the shower and bathroom are worse. There are supposedly some lovely beaches and Mayan ruins in Tulum, but I was just so pissed and tired and annoyed from the days events I decided to skip it all and plan to flee Mexico in the morning. You better Belize it! I was reaffirmed of this decision when I was about the enjoy my "free" (350 peso) breakfast at the hostel and was handed two uncooked eggs and limp white toast. I cooked it myself and ran for the bus station.

Unfortunately things don't get better. I arrived in Chetumal, Mexico, one of the large cities before Belize unsure of my next move. Because of last nights terrible display of Spanish skill I was feeling very shy and introverted. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be in Belize and speak English. I weakly asked someone about a bus to Corozal town, the first city I wanted to see in Belize (after now going there I have no idea why I ever wanted too). Later, while still in Belize I learned had been a bus to Corozal town and whoever spoke to me had the station had no idea what he was talking about. I should have waited in the long bus line, but I dejectedly walked out to take a taxi to the border. I had turned into a cowardly wimp, not really sure what I was doing. I gave the taxi my last $100 pesos and walked to Mexico's border exit. I knew there should be no charge for me to leave. I was way under the maximum stay of 180 days and I still had the paper indicating it so, however the officer demanded I pay an exit tax of $262 pesos or $20 US. Twenty bucks is a couple dollars less than $262 pesos. I knew this was all bull and this money was going right into the officers pocket, but what could I do? I asked por que?? (Why??) and got no response other than a repeat of what I owed. I had no pesos left. I unzipped my money belt to whip the officer in the face...I mean to take out my hidden US dollars and handed it over.

I walked out of Mexico and into Belize...or so I thought. Not yet. I was simply in the "free zone" A no country zone. No mans land. I still had to go through the Belize border. A taxi said he would take me to the true border, an ATM, in Corozal town, and get me to a hotel for $30 Belize ($15 US). I didn't try to barter, that was a fare deal and I got on. There wasn't a single other person in the border office and my passport was stamped after the only question asked of me was how long I was staying and where. I made up some answers and finally....UNBELIZEABLE...

In many ways Mexico was so easy...The cities are all safe, the transportion a breeze. Now was almost the start of my true adventure. My first Central American country. My first of my goal to see all seven on this trip. The major cities are more dangerous, the buses less than luxourious. The ability to walk everywhere safely no longer available. I was off to broaden my perspective on this life and world. To learn more about myself and "the Americas."

drunk sun love

I should leave the Yucatan to myself...Not share what it has meant to me and what it is. Keep it all to myself. But I'll continue to open myself up to you and share this experience that will forever shape the man that I am and the man I will become every tomorrow.

*Work on bettering yourself and you better the world*

Merida to Valladolid to Isla Mujeres to Cancun to Holbox

I'm not done yet with Mexico, but the time is ripening for me to move on. I love this country. I love the food, the people, the air. Love. This is the longest I've been in any other country other than the U.S. I'm glad it was Mexico first. Our neighbor. One of the two. A brother of North America. A country few of us will ever experience. Fear? Rubbish (as my English friends would say). If you want fear, fear why you worried about me going to Mexico. Why are those thoughts in your head? How did they get there? I still practice common sense. This trip is still barely one quarter accomplished, so of course something terrible could still happen, but I'm never going to let that "if" stop me from walking through that door. The learning experience is far too valuable. One life.

My very first blog talked about why I'm here. A strange coincidence I could not ignore. I sign. Trust me. I still have idea where I will end up from all this. When I get serious about thinking about my life after my money runs out and I think about how I should consider my career once again, I still feel a bit uncertain. Will I ever feel ready to be at the same job in the same place for 25 to 30 years? Is that my purpose? I drop thinking about it and realize I have a year and half of experiences still to live before that question needs to be answered.

Arriving back in Merida was special because it was the very first city I'd ever been too in Mexico. It's one of the reasons I've been nearly six weeks now in this country. The best part this time happened to be the free breakfast at the hostel I stayed at. Fresh cut pineapple, melon, papaya, watermelon, and bananas. Fresh hot rolls, cereal, and yogurt. Coffee and tea. ALL YOU CAN EAT. Oh...the best part, you also get a fresh two egg omelet with tomatoes, onions and and cheese. Caliente? Just ask for a sprinkle of habanero. I debated staying longer just for the breakfast. It would not have been an unreasonable decision, but I was on a fast leg on my journey and decided to revisit Valladolid for an evening, another city I visited on my first trip to Mexico in April of 2009. I re-rented a bike and returned to cenote Diztnup. Cenotes are underground caverns filled with crystal blue spring water. The cost to enter increased from $25 pesos to $52 in the year and a half since I was last here. I now didn't have enough money to hire a six year old to guard my bike, buy a fresh coconut with a straw pushed in to slurp the juice, change euros to pesos for small children at a fare rate of 15 to 1 and also go to cenote samula which also raised its entrance fee to $52 pesos. I was irked, but there was nothing I could do. I wasn't going to ride seven kilometers back on the bike with bent peddals and half inflated tires. I was renting it for ten pesos an hour. The equivalent to about .85 cents. I guess I got my moneys worth.

I went to Isla Mujeres for four nights and Cancun for one.

I'm now in the sleepy Isla Holbox. The weather isn't great, but I still get a great feeling from this place. I have a dorm style six bed sand floor cabana for a $100 pesos a night. I wrote a haiku about a pelican. 5-7-5 write?

"The Pelican"
Constantly alert
Unsuccessful, yet alive...
...Bird fishing - SUCCESS!

4 weeks in...

"Ten cheen ten, kin bin in xiimbal yook'ol kab..." - Jose Eduvigues Ucan No

("Me, only me, I'm going walking in the world...")



It has been an interesting couple weeks. Kicked it with loads of new friends in San Cristobal de Las Casas, witnessed a chicken having its neck snapped and a woman spraying white gas from her mouth over lit candles in the most interesting church I've even been too. I stayed in a jungle cabana, listened to the wail of howler monkeys and walked around one of America's greatest ancient ruins with a beautiful half Portuguese, half English girl. For the last two days I came back to reality with a quiet solo visit to the once pirate ravaged city of Campeche.

San Cristobal de Las Casas in the state of Chiapas lays at an elevation of about 6,000 feet. Once again, another beautiful city in Mexico, but at night it got quite cold. Two blankets, my fleece hat, jacket, and pants did the trick every night. There was a fire pit lit up every evening in the hostel. Great for the cold and even better because like a magnet it brought everyone in the hostel together. I met a lot of great people in San Cristobal.

A few kilometers from San Cristobal de Las Casas sits the small indigenous village of San Juan Chamula. A church stands in the center of town - looking like any ordinary church from the outside. Inside, it's like being transported to another world.

I sometimes wish I had a belief in something so strong - these people have no doubt that what they're doing is benefiting them in some way - I believe it is too. All I believe in is that I have no idea what I believe in.

There was a man in a white tunic chanting on his knees with a live chicken, its feet tied, a desperate SQWWUAAAKKK and the next is broke. The man continued to chant and press his forehead to the floor in front of about thirty skinny lit candles stuck to the floor with melted candle wax.

Melted wax litters the floor everywhere. The candles of past prayers still flicker, stuck to the floor, some flames lay in puddles of melted wax.

Tables surround the inner walls of the church completely covered in lit candles in glass candle holders. Fifty or so Saints in glass cases, each with a mirror around its neck are displayed above the tables.

The room is warm from the heat of the candles, filled with the smell of pine, whose needles litter the floor, pushed aside where people have candles lit.

Spanish is not being spoken. It is the ancient indigenous tongues of the Tzolziles and Tzeltales.

One woman put lighter fluid in her mouth and sprayed it over the candles, flaming them up and causing them to rapidly melt down. She waved eggs in a bag over the burning candles.

Small children came up to me asking for pesos. "Cinco pesos por un lapiz para la escuala??" (5 pesos for a pencil for school). "Cinco pesos por favor". The kids are so damn cute, you have to be some kind of cold hearted son of a to not feel bad that this is how these kids are spending their youth. They've been taught to beg. How can I live so good and others so bad? How can I be so privileged and others so not? Why do I deserve this and they don't? Will there ever be a time when the world won't find people sleeping on the streets and starving, cruelty beyond belief by people on people, and children begging for change? Can this change?

The children speak in a soft, slow, whine. Obviously learned to be the best method. "Ohhhh sennioorrr, porrr favorrrr..." I asked their names and how old they were. Marta - 9 and Luis - 9 and heavy heartily gave them some pesos. I doubt it's going to be spent on a pencil for school.

I stayed five nights in San Cristobal, equal to my longest stay anywhere thus far and headed to the jungles of Palanque.

The ruins of Palanque were once home to nearly 8,000 Mayans and houses the tomb of Pakal, one of America's most famous tombs and Mayan leaders. I first heard of Pakal from the show "Ancient Aliens" on The History Channel. Pakal's tomb cover shows the ancient ruler in what some interpret as a space craft. He has a nose tube in and seems to be controlling hand and feet pedals. Surrounding this picture are the symbols of many heavenly bodies, including the Sun, Moon, Venus, and Mars. The show does a fantastic job convincing you this is sure proof Pakal is in a space craft or was at least visited by aliens. A book I read about the Mayans completely discredits the idea of aliens though. Apparently everything to do with the tomb is ordinary in Mayan symbology. I didn't get very far trying to explain it my hostel mates. I was instantly laughed at - "Only in America!!!" Oh well....

I walked around the ruins, museum and later in the day to some fantastic jungle draped waterfalls with Sarah from Spain. We were both strolling the ruins solo and company is always nice. It didn't hurt that she is a gorgeous fitness instructor, who speaks five languages and is only a couple weeks younger than I. As further proof to her stunning beauty she told me she dated a professional soccer player in Spain for four years. Somewhat equivalent to a woman dating Derek Jeter or Tom Brady in the United States. A kiss on the cheek and "adios!" at the bus station later that evening. ¡AHH mi corazon!

I arrived in the city of Campeche at four in the morning with no hostel reservation and very sleep deprived. I sat in the bus station trying to figure out what to do. I was about three kilometers from the city center. I wanted to get in a bed fast, but I didn't want to pay for lasts night stay. In most places, this would mean waiting until about 11 in the morning. I wasn't interested in that either. I thought about sleeping a couple hours in the bus station, but quickly axed that terrible idea. Then I thought about getting a taxi to town and forgetting about the costs. I hate the cost of solo taxi rides though. I spotted an older lady walking the dark streets though and decided it safe and hit the bricks toward the city center. After about thirty minutes I came upon the first hostel. Knocked on the locked doors. Booked. Second hostel....success. Now the task of convincing him not to charge me for the previous evening even though it was still 5 in the morning. He spoke no English, but even with my terrible Spanish I was able to convince him. A smile and attempt at the language can go a long way.

All the tourists I met in Campeche were French and spoke only French. So I enjoyed some solo time. Rented a bike for ten pesos an hour and soaked up the 90 degree heat. The Gulf of Mexico in Campeche has no beaches, but is lined with a nice path for bikers and joggers who all flock out in late afternoon and watch the sun dip into the Gulf to give some relief to the boiling city and to relieve the darkness to some land on the other side of the world.

Life is precious my friends...count your blessings...

"Life is very short and there is no time for fussing and fighting my friends..." (We Can Work it Out - Beatles)

One month in - Daily expenses average $390 pesos = $32.40 a day (not including additional cost of bank fees)

Smiling

Oaxaca City is muy bueno. It just feels good. It's nestled in the highlands and this time of year it is beautiful in the day and just right with pants and long sleeve at night. Like most of the cities I've been too in Mexico the streets are cobbled and busy with vender's. The zocalo of Ciudad de Oaxaca is filled with shoe shiners, musicians, balloon hawkers and surrounded by cafes. I cannot find the exact reason why, but I like it here. My favorite city thus far! Although there has been not a place I have not liked.



Three weeks into this long journey and I'm thinking about all the negativity and "Be careful's" I heard prior to leaving. As my Uncle Ray told me, "It's only the people that have never been here that don't like Mexico." What do Americans ever here about Mexico? Do we even know who the president is? Should we? Can we name for 4 of the 31 states? After all it is one of our two boarder neighbors, but hell, I couldn't answer those questions. All we here about Mexico in our papers and news is murders by the drug cartels. It makes sense to think Mexico is unsafe when all you read about are people being decapitated. Fortunately for the 9 out of 10 of you who told me how dangerous Mexico was, you were wrong. I held my bag tighter in Rome and Dublin then any place here. The cities are gorgeous and I've never even heard of them! Puebla? Oaxaca City? Who has visited these places? Or better yet, who even cares to visit these places? Why do most of us always want to venture over the Atlantic, when there is a wealth of cheap beautiful places at our fingertips! I can buy a bag of fruits and vegetables for the equivalent of the price of one mediocre avocado back home. And oh yah, there the best damn fruits and vegetables I've ever eaten. Unfortunately to the average American, Mexico is just like our poor, dirty cousin who we don't really want to be around. I meet English, Australians, Canadians, Germans, Austrians, Italians, and Dutch, but where are the Americans?

I'm taking a 12 hour bus ride for $30 US, eating the best food I've ever eaten for $5 US a meal or buying a bag of fresh fruits and vegetables for $2 US. I'm sleeping in cozy cities in rooms with clean bedding and hot showers for $12 US a night or less. I'm in my t-shirt by day and cool and comfortable in the evening.

I know I probably will not be the persuader of you to come see for yourself, but don't say I didn't tell you. It's embedded in our brains that this country is a violent heap of trash. I'm finding out it is quite the opposite. The charm of these cities, the people, the food, the weather, the cost to get around! It's fantastic.

For further proof; I give you Mazunte on the Pacific coast in the state of Oaxaxa (there's one state, just 3 more!) It's difficult to describe a place like Mazunte. I've been to many many beaches in the United States and there is nothing to compare it to there. I'll describe it one thing at a time and stick strictly to the facts.

• This time of year it's sunny with no clouds, deep blue sky, 80's by day and 65ish by night. It never changes.
• The water is deep blue and around 80 degrees F.
• The main beach is nestled in a harbour of sorts making the waves perfect for body surfing or just taking a nice swim without ever having to worry about a rip tide sucking you out to sea.
• If you want to avoid the crowds of about 20 on the beach there are a few hidden gems with nobody to be found by taking a nice hike over the hills.
• For the sunset you can climb a short .5 mile trail to the southern most point of Oaxaxa and watch the sun dip into the ocean and stars pop over head.
• At the far end of the beach are natural rock cliffs and pillars of rock stands far off into the ocean.
• No one has ever been eaten by a shark here. EVER.
• This time of year the beaches are quiet with the perfect amount of chill hipsters and tiny bikinis on beautiful woman. If you're lucky (and I usually am) the casual European will forget she is supposed to keep her top on.
• You want a beer? Buy some with change in town and drink it in the sand. Too lazy to walk 100 meters to town? $1.75 at one of the 3 beach restaurants in the sand.
• Hungry? Just wait for a hardworking Mexican to come by with fresh sandwiches, tacos, nuts, pastries, or flavored ice.
• How about fruit? The best damn fruit I ever had. I never really had an orange , banana, melon or mango before coming to Mazunte.

I slept in a cabana right on the beach for the equivalent of $8 US. Went on a 3 hour boat ride for about $15 US and swam with sea turtles, saw colorful fish, and sped along with a giant whale 30 feet off the side of the boat. There are a few bars with chill relaxing music. The beers are only $1.75 here as well.

So, now for the negatives.

• There are no ATM machines in town (hardly a negative, but it forces you to drive 20 minutes to the nearest larger town if you want to stick around and you're low on pesos)
• There are a decent number of flea bitten, dirty dogs roaming freely. Where are they peeing and pooing?
• Chickens and roosters are all over the place too, not on the beach, but cock-a-doodle-doing at odd hours of the day and night. Only at sunrise? I think not.
• At night there are a few mosquitoes and sand fleas - easy enough, drink the "Sex on the Beach" and move the freakishness to your mosquito netted cabana!

And you know something. I actually grew quite fond of those damn roosters.

Finding My Cadance

I had success getting from airport to hostel in Mexico City without using a taxi so I thought I could do it again when I got to Puebla. Wrong. Reading the guide book and having written down directions from the hostel's web page I'm pretty sure I took the correct bus, but I didn't know where to get off. After riding twenty minutes longer than I should have needed too I decided to get off the bus. I figured I would find my way using the tiny map of the city center I had in my guide book. Wrong again. I should have tryed to ask the bus driver, but my confidence and courage to attempt Spanish when it is not completely necessary has waxed and waned. Foolish. I was outside the city center walking in circles trying to match street names with ones I had on my map. After about an hour and a half I decided to give up. I hailed a taxi - a relatively easy task. I was only about three miles away, but I never would have figured it out. Puebla has a beautiful city center which makes up for its crummy exterior. The Spanish church in the zocalo (city center) started being built in the 16th century. It's featured on Mexico's $500 Peso bill and has the highest towers of any church in Mexico (69 m). I'm not a big church guy, but when you combine the fountain, balloon vendors, tourists and locals alike, draped by a 16th century church in the background you have one beautiful picture.

Puebla is the city which made Cinco de Mayo famous. Every city I've been to so far has a street named Cinco de Mayo. On May 5th, 1862 the Mexicans were able to defend an attack the French made. An annual day of drunkenness was born. Fortunately for the sake of bars and drunkards , few Mexicans seem to remember or care that following this defeat the French were able to fortify their army and defeated the Mexicans to successfully hold Puebla for the following five years.

From Puebla I took a day trip to Cholula to visit what is thought to be one of the widest pyramids ever built. Piramide Tepanapa. The Great Pyramid of Cholula is also the second largest in the world. Unfortunately it has been neglected over hundreds of years and now really looks just like a large hill. Stone steps near the bottom and a network of tunnels inside the pyramid are the only evidence of the massive pyramid. Hernan Cortes, the infamous Conquistador of Spain, spent time in Cholula and built a Catholic church on the top of the pyramid. A climb to the top offers a fantastic view of the nearly 17,000 foot smoking volcano of Popocatepetl. I ate a quality sandwich, appetizer of spicy vegetables, and two cervesas for only 80 pesos (about $6.50 US) and found my bus back to Puebla.

Puebla was pleasant, safe, and relaxing. I spent most of my time walking the cobble stoned streets, people watching, and reading on a bench in the large zocalo surrounded by the arboretum type setting of trees and flowers. I went to this great Pre-Hispanic artifact museum while in Puebla. One of the coolest things it had was a time line showing the rise of "civilizations" on each continent. They were stacked on top of each other with pictures showing the major accomplishments. It amazes me most all North Americans have heard of the pyramids of Egypt and the great buildings of ancient Rome, but probably no one has heard of the great city of Teotihuacan. A city develed on a grid plan. A city that helped spread writing and an advanced calender system throughout Central America all the way down to moder El Salvador and Honduras. A city that grew to a population of 125,000. More than any other city in the world at the time and larger than any other pre-Hispanic city ever. A city thousands of miles closer to us than any in Europe, Africa, or Asia. What could we learn from these people that we will never know?

I moved on north to Veracruz which sits on the Gulf of Mexico. It's a commercial and oil hub. A city that for 4oo years had been the gateway to all of Mexico. Anybody coming in would go through Veracruz. Over the years this city has experienced numerous conflicts with pirates, French, Spanish, and the United States. In the yearly 1900's the US Army stormed the fortress of San Juan de Ulua right in the harbour. The General yelled to his troops deploying ashore. "GREEN - - GO!!, GREEN - - GO!!" Mexicans overheard and the term Gringo was born.

I only had one sunny day in Veracruz and it's amazing how the sun can make you enjoy a city so much more. Its a great city for walking miles of boardwalk and long piers. I took a short boat ride to near by islands and was the only Gringo on the boat. No one spoke English. ¡No entiendo, pero no es un problema! (I don't understand, but it's no problem!)

Distrito Federal (Mexico City)

I read if you were to try to compare Mexico City to a city in the United States, your best bet would be to combine New York, Los Angeles, and Boston. Before flying into Mexico City on Wednesday, January 5th, I really did not know what to expect. A crime filled, smog ridden, metropolis of 21 million? Yah, maybe. In some aspects it is. My eyes felt a bit sore on some days, maybe the smog, but according to the Lonely Planet the city smog has gotten much better since the city has started to limit the amount of cars that can drive each day. Every day here has been blue skied and in the 70's. I've never felt in danger and have grown quite fond of this city. The road side tacos are cheap and delicious and the Metro is easy and $3 pesos (.25 cents U.S) can take you nearly anywhere you want to go. Mexico City has been thriving for nearly 1500 years and now has nearly 20% of the country's population and its people consume 2/3 of the countries energy. The historical center of the city is where the Aztecs believed the center of the universe was. Today it has a 500 year old cathedral and an incredible national palace. On Saturday the streets were literally filled like a stuffed burrito. All kinds of cheap crap was being sold on the curbs - "¡Diez Pesos!"
The night before I attempted a night out in Mexico City on my own. My $10 dollar a night , 10 bunk hostel room was empty, so I was on my own. The bar scene was crazy and it being only my 3rd day I didn't have the courage to enter a bar. My spanish is terrible and who goes to a bar by themselves? On top of that I probably wouldn't have even been able to talk to anyone. There are not as many people who speak English as I thought there would be. I still had a nice walk, but felt like a wuss cake when I walked back into the hostel at only 10:30. I cheered up a bit when I walked back into my dorm. It seemed when I left, two beautiful girls from England had moved in.  They are sweet girls - Aimee and Ciera. We went to the largest park in the city together and I acted a bit like their tour guide since I had already had three days to get to know the area. They are on a similar trip, but moving a bit faster so I'm sadly saying goodbye to them when we both leave the city.
Prior to meeting the English girls I went outside the city for a day to Teotihuacan - An ancient city built between 200 and 600 AD. It has the third largest pyramid in the world - Pyramid del Sol and I lung busted it to the top. The city at one point had as many as 125,000 people living in it. Exploring ruins will be a main part of my journey.
On my last night in the city I went to my first Corrida de Toros. A bull fight. It was certainly like nothing I had ever experienced. Three matadors kill two bulls each. It's not simply one matador in the ring, but several of his toreros help to tire the bull out at first with the waves of their cape. Then the picadores come into the ring. These are men on large horses all padded up to prevent goring by the bull. These guys have large spears and they use them to weaken the bull even more. Then the matadors toreros take turns stabbing pairs of elongated darts into the shoulder of the bull. With their hands held high they must wait until the bull has nearly gored them to correctly insert the banderillas. After all this, when the bull is at his weakest is when the matador is finally alone with the bull and performs artistic passes with his red muleta. One kill went terribly wrong. The matador failed to perform a clean kill and the bull just wouldn't fall. I believe in honor of the bull's strength the crowd yelled "¡¡Toro!! ¡¡Toro!!" and boo'd the matador as finally the bull was ended with a small dagger behind the neck to sever the spinal cord. As gruesome and cruel as most people think bull fighting is, I believe when the time comes, aficionados prefer a quick death for the bull. Prior to this poor display a matador performed a perfect kill. After several fine passes and ¡Ole's! from the stands he slid his sword deep into the bulls neck on his first try. The bull jabbed his head one last desperate time and fell dead instantly. His performance was so great he was allowed to walk around the ring as each section of the crowd cheered and several people threw their hats into the ring in appreciation.
Just as I begin to really get to know this city it is time to move on. I'm off to Puebla, two hours east, and will have to find my way about in a new city once again. That is the way of it though. For the next few months this is my life and I love it.

P.S. - please excuse any spelling errors - no spell check in English here!

P.P.S. - I will work to get pictures up, but the computers are so slow it is difficult and the one I'm at now charges by the hour so I don't want to take the time to upload them.