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!

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