Last night i stumbled home from Oxigeno, the local night club that everyone and anyone partying in Leon on Friday nights goes to. I spent the beggining of the night at Via Via, listening to live music and conversing with my spanish professor. Dr. Oragon is actually a MD, but he directs the language institution i have been teaching and learning at. and he likes to drink, and buy drinks for his 'favorite students'. i cant tell you how many double tequila shots passed, but enough to cause me to forget how to walk, hence the stumbling. i left the hamburger stand in Parque Central, an inevitable pit stop on ones way home from the bar, and barely made it out of the middle of the park before deciding it was a good idea to give in to my bodily functions. i proceeded to piss on a wall adjacent to the park. Keep in mind, TIN, this is Nicaragua, the poorest country in Central America. There arent exactly strict laws concerning public urination. at least i thought there wasnt. PEople piss everywhere, street kids, the homeless, drunks. I guess the difference between me and them is that i am WHITE and have money. i also know that public masterbation is prominent in many parts of Latin America, i.e. Havanna. although i am sure this phenomenon is not unique to L.A. In fact we have experienced it firsthand in the Quetzaltrekkers office, but thats an entirely different story indeed. but peeing where you please seems to parellel, at least logically, with the levels of public littering in Central America. PEople throw their trash everywhere. not only is it culturally accepted, making this trend virtually impossible to reverse, it is enabled by most members of the community. for example, when a Nica is sitting on an aisle seat of a bus, its no problem that he cant reach the window. when he finishes his Miranda, his neighbor on the window seat will kindly open it for him so he can casually reach over to dispose his bottle in the streets. trash bags and plastic bottles are the most prevalently littered item, and they dot the landscape of neighborhoods, farms and roads. its sad, and certainly ironic, that many people who live in some of the most beautiful parts of the world, have such disregard to nature, and allow the inherent beauty of the land be litterally trashed with the consumer debris of capatilism. why arent these corporations responsible for this trash anyway. their name is still on the product, and they are the ones proffiting of its consumption. I digress.
its funny how confused they are, and how foreign we look in their eyes, as we attempt to dispose of our trash properly. sometimes after a hike, we find ourselves waiting for a bus to go home, in some remote town. We have asked to leave the trash, that we have put so much effort into not leaving behind, with someone, with the unwarranted assumption that he or she is not just going to throw it in the street, or in the neighbors yard, or in their fire pit.
anyway a motobike comes speeding toward me, not marked, but the two operating it were; with blue uniforms, the words " tourism police" drapped across their ragged and dusty getup. meant to protect and preserve the safety of tourists, who for better or worse provide a large portion of income to local residents, i become a prime candidate for easy bribery. they confronted me, clarified the illegality of my actions and continued to check my person. i get the feeling it wasnt for drugs or weapons, but purely for money. of course i had none at this point. i began to explain to them in my drunken and broken spanish that i see people do it all the time, as if this makes it not illegal, and that i was genuinely sorry for contributing to the filth that lines the streets of LEon.
its funny, because the last public peeing incident i had, mike and i were walking down the street, talking about how much we loved nicaragua because we can pee anywhere we please, so i decided to pee anywhere i pleased. it was someones properity, who would of thought, and this someone had a private security gaurd, who would of thought, for it and he immediatly shooed me away. right after we had just wrongly concluded that peeing in public was ok.
so not having money when salary deprived public officials demand it as a form of retribution, is not good. luckily they accepted my offer; to drive me home where the gringos cash box resides. they drove me home on their motorcycle, helmetless of course. it reminded me of when i was in Santarem, brazil, that tiny town on the amazon river, where our professor explicitly prohibited us from using this method of public transportation. moto taxis being the prevailing way to move bodies.
when i get back, Jaxser, one of our 2 nicaraguan volunteers was on the stoop, with this hopeless norwegian girl, one of at least 50 in leon, due to some odd university exchange program. he kept the police calm, while i ran inside to collect the funds; 200 cordobas or US$10 to pay the "fine". so basically i paid 10 bucks for a cab ride home that usually costs less than 1.
i have been trashing leon due to its dirty streets, all puns intended. but i dont want to paint the wrong picture. leon is far from being without its pleasentries and attractions. there is a reason why i have been living here for the last two months. and it far outweighs the, although destrucitve, but superficial conception of a littered street. leon has character, leon has personality. Leon beats, Leon breaths, Leon thrives. Leon es comida, Leon es cultura, Leon es vida.
there is something about it that sets it apart from its rival, Granada, which although more beautiful and colonial, also feels more contrived and traditional.
But damn leon is hot, f-ing volcanoes.
only have a week left here, and then less than a month left of traveling before i return home.
BUt i will definitely have to find my way back to leon one day.
VIVA SANDINO.

Some rich plot of land on an island, Volcan Mambachu, algo Conquistador, Las Isletas, Granada, Granada, Lachy with the kids, moustache vs. beard, Vine Climbing; Telica, big corn vs. little corn; Corn Islands, on top of water tower; Corn Islands, Corn Islands,

Viva Leon

In the early morning of a typical thursday in Leon, I walk by the scenes that have become familiar to me walking around before 9am. The old lady selling some kind of bread derivative, followed by a young lady posted on an ideal spot on the corner selling bags of delicious fruit for 10 cordoba a piece (50 cents). Street vendors are unloading their carefully boxed bootleg cd´s and dvd´s, and arranging them on displays, these go for 20 cordobas a piece ($1), and span a wide range of quality. Taxis drive by honking, for what I´m still not sure. They seem to honk at you, the gringo, as if saying ´I know you guys dont walk.´Sometime thisd is accompanied by a full stop and gestured hand motions, paired with nnverbal mouthings of something akin to ´come on, you want the taxi or what?´ As if you are too dumb to even realize you want a taxi. I cross the street, careful not to get hit by any of the wild aforementioned taxi cabs, springing to the other side of the street which is shaded. In many places the difference between walking in the shade or under the sun may be nominal, but here in leon it will completely change your little foot excursion about town- from a nice albeit hot leisurely stroll through the shade, to melting in a pressure cooker and collapsing about 5 blocks down. I walk into Big Foot hostal, my favorite in the city and where I stayed a few times, to drop of my very dirty laundry that is in very serious need of being cleaned properly. If you wanted to continue walking, you would pass by Via Via, another hostal which tomorrow night will have live music. Tonight the music is at Olla Quemado. Turn the corner at you will walk by the movie theatre, which is actually quite nice. The theatre usually has 3 or 4 movies going at a time, and you could buy a ticket, popcorn and soda for something approaching $5 US. During the day there is a hobbled over old woman begging, usually roasting in the sun as opposed to the security of the shade opposite the movie thatre. At night there is a gang of street children jumping around and begging for money as you exit the theatre. I suspect some are high off glue, and yes they do sniff glue as well as god knows what else to get high. These children are who Quetzaltrekkers, the organization I´m volunteering for, is trying to help. The other day we took a group of ten or so kids to the beach, which is about an hour from here by bus. They were all crazy and full of energy. some of the attention we were giving them on this day is the most they would have all week. We brought kids from the older half of the Las Tias Project, ranging from 13-18. Although they all looked like they were about 9 years old, from the malnutrition they have had. I think some of us trekkers are going to the beach today, minus the kids. Chris is guiding El Hoyo, which I was originally scheduled to do but I had to pull out, because I didn´t sleep at all the night before as I helped guide the Full Moon hike, which is once a month and starts at 11pm and goes until the next afternoon- no sleep. I managed to wrangle about 3 hours of sleep at the Quetzaltrekkers house, which is equal to about 3 hours of sleep in a frat house I´d imagine. Living in the house is like being back in college, noisy and fun. Chris and I were scheduled to do El Hoyo back-to-back, but I had one of the newer volunteers take my place today and I´ll join Chris Saturday for the hike. All this writing is making me hungry, might be time for another leon tradition we have, going to Comedor Lucia and getting a nice plateful of food for a little under $2.

Paradise Found

(Disclaimer; Sorry Mike, followers, I have to do it. I wrote this account on the beach and thus feel compelled to publish it, even though mike already summarized most of what i will say. just read one, his or mine, or read them both and put together the pieces. :))
Although it took us four days. Each day only adding on to the expectations crafted for the island we now find ourselves on. Thankfully, it lived up to them all.
We started on sunday in Leon, our new home away from home. the antigua of nicaragua if you will. the revolutionary, left leaning, artsy, university town that mike and i will call home for the next two months. we catch a bus to managua, nicaragua´s capitol. like all central american capitols, its big, intimidating, dirty and hurried. Managua, especially spread out after never really being rebuilt from the damage done by an earthquake in the early 70´s, was no exception.
we catch a bus to El Rama, the small port town up river from bluefields. bluefields is the town where the boat to the corn islands, are ultimate destination, leaves from. of course this town can only be reached by boat as well. i knew this, and thought that we could make it to el Rama, and catch the last boat to bluefields that same day. but the 7 hour bus ride to el rama was indeed 7 hours, and by the time we got there it was dark and rainy and even if boats left off schedule, we would not be fortunate enough to be offered this exception. we would have to stay the night. we ended up having beers and dinner with a couple from oregon at the kingston discoteca in el rama, and got our first taste of a corn island native by meeting a carribean from there who gave us the low down on the boat situation. the boat from bluefields to the corn islands didnt leave till wednesday, which is what our handy resource guide book told us, but we decided to disregard. it was only sunday, the boat didnt leave till wednesday, and our scottish freind from Leon, who flew, was already on the beach.
we woke up the next day and waited at the dock for several hours before catching the hour long boat ride to bluefields. we arrived, FOB, and were immediatly greeted by a friendly Garifunan eager to get his surcharge by showing us to the right hotel. at this point, indifferent, not naive, to the fact that we might pay an extra dollar just to be escorted to a hotel we could find on our own. mike and i have grown accustomed and quite effective at shaking off this middle man service, but this time we conceded. like our homeboy from livingston, guatemala´s equivelant of bluefields, Spicer was afro-carribean, rasta-like, here and there toothless and ultimatly a begger. unlike ´alex the great´ from livingston, Spicer didnt have marijuana tattoos scattered throughout his body, nor an immediate exposed reputation as a theif and often spoke about his family, ´job´ and his affinity for jesus. we accepted him as less shady, although i am not so sure he deserved this more benovelent impression. he talked about music; peace, love and then war. he told us about his days fighting as a Contra and the weapons he was offered as a little boy to kill the ´communists´. here mike and i were, fresh out of a FSLN museum in Leon, central americas revolutionary capitol, shooting the shit with an ex-contra. amazing.
we were able to shake of spicer eventually, but not before asking us for money. this was our first refusal of many, as we would spend the next two days actively fending off begger after hustler after mugger, gunning for the cash of the new white boys in town.
bluefields is a shit hole, never go there.
its´people is supposed to be its´ asset. the immense mix of ethnic groups; black creoles, meskitos, mestizos, brisith whites all share a common home. but the only piece of the diverse pie of people here we were approached by was crack addicts, prostitutes, drunks and street peddlars. we couldnt leave our place without being the only 2 fat cow gringos stuck in bluefields before the wednesday boat that needed to get cheated before then. every step we were grabbed, mobbed, begged and virtually assaulted. what little small talk i did make resulted in their eventual confession that he or she had originated from the islands. i thought, ´´great, is where we are going the source of these degenerates?´´ thankfully this is not the case, and little corn island is 100% void of its shaddy offspring. long story short, our 2 nights in bluefields we spent in nocturnal seclusion, playing cards on our porch, cursing ourselves for not flying.
the 5 hour boat ride to the islands was a mess. the cabin was like an eboli clinic. kids crying face down in their own vomit, parents arnt helping because they are sick and throwing up too. islanders get sea sick?
i couldnt take it, went outside and hung on to a railing for dear life as the boat battled wave after wave en route to the islands. mike stayed in the emergency room and later admitted that he too was paralyzed by the ominious power of sea induced nausea.
we got to big island not knowing if we were going to stay there or boat it to the small one. we caught a cab on the only road on the island, that circles it completely, to a hospedaje that apparantely offered camping for a nominal fee. the woman tried to charge us $10US to camp and we knew we could get a room for 15, so we hit the trail, prematurely searching for the paradise we were looking for, not knowing that it didnt exist on this island, but only on little corn. this woudnt be a problem if every half hour the sky wasnt dropping torrential down pour. but it was. we scurried on foot to various points of shelter at each commencement of rainfall, while looking for a cheap place to gather oursleves. when we did, we realized we had one more boat ride ahead of us, to little corn, the next morning.
we woke up on the big island, ran across the air field, reserved a flight back so we would never have to do the aforementioned voyage again in that fashion, and hopped on the 30 minute boat ride to little corn. sure enough, waiting at the dock with us, was the German speaking Swiss newylwed couple we had met on top of el tigre, at El Mirador. this excursion, mind you, was 60 km into the jungle, over a month ago, and almost 500 miles away in northern guatemala. here we are getting on the same boat with them on the carribean side of nicaragua. if its a small world, then this region is miniscule. i am telling you, the 6 degrees of seperation reduces to about 3 when you are traveling, as you constantly run into familiar faces all on the common trail.
Little corn island is shaped similar to another island floating along the atlantic, this much bigger, and yes, Palin proponents, actually a continent; Africa. you get dropped off at the dock on the SW side, at lets say Angola. we followed the signs to beach front hospedajes inland, and ended up on the other side, lets say Somalia. this entire east coast of the island holds beach front hotels with bungalos and cabanos literally opening their front doors to the crystal clear, calm and glistenig water. there are no cars on this island. the dock side, where the village is, has a school, a few tiendas and restaurants that compete for the cheapest lobster in town. our spot, is completely self sufficient, as it harnesses its power daily by wind turbines and solar panels. most of the island seems to operate like this as well.
on the north side, lets say Morrocco, some of the nicest places to stay are, with cabins on stilts, on soft grass fields, right before the white sand that leads to the beautiful turquiose water. most beaches are deserted and you can spend a whole day circling the island by beach or exploring the trails inland. right next to the baseball field, where little corn vs. big corn battled eachother on sunday (oh yea, baseball is big in nicaragua) is a lighthouse. it rises at least 10 meters into the air, and mike and i climbed its steep metal ascension to find the one true panoramic view of the island. breathtaking view for an enchanting place.

bring your bug spray

small region, big history

Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua.
three countries that consecutively line the pacific ocean. three countries in a slim region, naturally endowed with abudant wildlife, volcanoes, lakes, beaches, waterfalls and jungles. an area that covers 600km from the top of Guatemala to the bottom of nicaragua. holds both the largest and smallest countries in the region and share a common border with honduras. 3 countries that have all struggled, to a greater extent, through a common trajectory in history. from indigenious living to colonial occupation. from popular uprisings to brutal repressions. from violent revolutions to external intervention. from communal farming to export controlled economies. from natural disasters to failed basic infrastructure.
many factors dictate as to why the three have developed so disparately.
Guatemala´s geography kept it the most preserved and secluded. its size alone, in relative to the region, makes it a geographic liability. its vast junlge in the NE, vocanic mountains in the SW, and barren landscape in between adds dificulty to conquerization.
Natives in nicaragua allied with vying european powers to expel the latters´ neighboring countries off their land.
El salvador holds a population that remains civically involved and politically engaged, constantly ripening their readiness for collective organization. they also had leaders who, in fear of the power the masses may yield, created deathsquads, exterminated thousands and commited massacres.
Nicaragua held revolutions in the streets, where armed civilians, so desperate for change, used guns to further their ideals. their adversary, the somozan dictator, was shot dead in Leon, before his son assumed control and succesfully managed the civil war by procuring military and finacial aid from one of america´s finest; ronald reagan.
he and his previous cronnies were also integral players in the formation of the neoliberal economic policies that created the the broad label of ´banana republics´, and of course the socio-economic system it rendered. this essentially involved large US and multinational coorporations buying, stealing, and cheating huge portions of land, in stark opposition to the good will of the public, to grow crops for export, more often than not bananas. these mono-agricultural systems exploit the land and its people, degrade the local enviornment, create malnutricious diets, and rampant capitalistic free-for-alls. many of the crops, such as wheat, sugar and corn, are not sold and consumed in their original, natural and, in moderation, healthy forms. they are instead refined, processed, preserved, bagged and canned into not food, but food products. the once nutritious crop is then transformed into an addictive and unhealthy export. these goods are cheap and easily transportable, and thus flood shopping aisles the world over, including central america.
what this means is that cooperations from the global north control crop yield. they collect produce and resources, that could otherwise be used to sustain local communities. they ship these goods to huge warehouses and factories, where the nutrition is sucked out, and in its place preservatives and chemicals are pumped back in. Wa-la: Coca cola, Dorritos and Big Macs.
so the banana repblics, under CAFTA and the politicians who crafted it, end up exporting natural resources at the expense of their people, land, environment, safety and wealth, and import diabetes, obesity and bad health. as the never ending greed for profits expands, more land is taken from the native population. inevitably, and rightfully so, the masses organize. they elect leaders who vow to redistribute land. the US cooporations, wary of this rising opposition, use money, power, influence and even nepotism to lobby to their chums in Washington. military and finacial aid suddenly funnels itself to the forces of the status quo. the ruling elite and thier agents use these funds to squash the prevailing voices of peasants, farmers, laborers, clerics, normal folk, and of course those damn intellectuals.
this is the common theme that has caused so much hardship in this region, so much civic turmoil, policital unrest and tumultuos history.
Guatemala: bananas, Nicaragua: coffee and bananas, El Salvador: coffee, sugar and bananas.
the differences in the three respective societies mike and i recognize as we travel thru.
Guatemala still has a thriving indigenious population. 60% of the people in fact, remain virtuously mayan, and continue to speak over 20 different mayan dialects. the mayan indigena mostly populate the western highlands, but are present in every guatemalan city from antigua to livingston. they have preserved thier food, language, clothing and culture suprisingly well. guatemala, like the rest of the region has endured its fair share of natural adversity. an earthquake in the 70´s contributed significantly to the escalation of civil war, as thousands more fled to the streets after being left homeless from the disaster.
El Salvador is much less traditional. a consumer driven society, fueled by remittances sent home from immigrants abroad, mostly in the DC area, has created the façade of a prosperous state. on paper, the reality is more bleak, as unemployment and poverty persist. money sent home is rarely invested for the future. instead of it being spent prudently on health, education and housing, remittances are thrown right back into the hands of wealthy CEO´s by consumer spending.
Nicaragua, we havnt yet fully figured out. it is the largest country in the region, also has the lowest population density. it is considered one of the poorest in the region as well. however, in general the people seem the most laid back, nonchalant and carefree. the first bus ride in Nica, where mike and i got our first impression of their people, and indeed was a quite accurate depiction, as the people laughed, joked and threw oranges at eachother. when you go to a comedor or a tienda here, you have to seek out the service to be served. it seems that they have little qualms with being one of the poorest states in the region, or on the other hand, have no interest in the materialsim that wealth breeds. but the low crime rate should attest for their congeniality.
more from nica to come.

Bungled trips, shady hustlers, and corn islands

Chris and I ponder in thought as to how we will spend our next 5 hours on Big Corn island before we can catch a flight out to Managua, and then eventually a bus back to Leon. We decided to put the brakes on the travelling for a bit and post in Leon, volunteering with Queztaltrekkers, an roganization that leads hikes up volcanoes to help support a school for street children. Some of the pictures posted of nicaragua are from our trip with Quetzaltrekkers up to el hoyo (the hole) a volcano with a nice view. After the hike, we spent the weekend in Leon partying and then sent out for corn islands by land, something which not many travellers do, and we would soon find out why. most simply fly from managua to the corn islands, but we decided to go by land for some adventure and to save some money. This became a disaster. 2 hour bus ride to managua without incident, but it was on the 7 hour bus ride to El Rama which made me think about posting in Leon with queztaltrekkers, thinking: man I really dont want to do more 7 hour bus rides. Of which we have had our fair share. So we get to el Rama late and night and there is nothign to do but find a hotel to stay in. Met a nice American couple that just got engaged and enojyed a meal and some conversation with them and Reggae Town Ranch Discoteca which was more of a big empty bar then a club. this is also the time and place in which we discovered that the ferry to Big Corn island leave only on wednesday (this being sunday night).Slept in a little the next day and went to the dock to take the panga to Bluefields, the port town on the coast from which the ferry to the corn islands leaves. The panaga however does not leave until it is full, which means 18 people, which means we would have to wait over 4 hours. However, during this time I did find a place to use the internet and phone the peace corps, and found out I had been invited to volunteer in honduras, starting June 30. So it looks like I will come home after this trip and come right on back to the same region. And ironically, we had completely skipped honduras on our way to nicaragua. So we finally caught the panga to bluefields, which took an hour and a half, and started on our way to find a cheap hotel. While we thought El Rama was kind of seedy and sketchy, goddamn if Bluefields didnt outright win that title and then some. Upon exiting the boat we were approached by Spicer, and local hustler who wanted to help us find a cheap hotel. Well rest assured we have encountered many of these characters before, but Spicer would prove to be the most annoying and persistent of all the hustlers. He essentially latched onto us for an hour or two posing as a friendly local, but when we finally tried to really shake him off the obvious truth revealed itself when he asked us for some money. We did not give him money. He came back the next day and for about 30 minutes entreated chris to give him money, stating many - although each irrelevant- reasons as to why we should give him money. The most obvious being that he showed us to our hotel, something we reminded him we could have done on our own and had he stated upfront he wanted money we would have of course refused. The best part of the story, if you remember those of you paying attention to the timetables here, is that we had to spend 2 days in the grotesque caribbean port town hellhole known as bluefields, a fate which seemed worse than death upon our first revelation of this truth. The seedy atmosphere of bluefields was only enhanced by the fact that A) we were the only two white faces walking around, and B) this mad all of the countless unemployed black creole hustlers B-Line straight to us to offer still more countless goods and services of which we wanted no part of. Wednesday we finally made it to the boat for Big Corn island, a simple journey with locals and foreigners mixed, that would evolve into a 5 hour horror show complete with almost everyone puking their brains out and the kids -oh lord the poor kids- endless in their shreiking and wailing. I too became seasick, although not to the point of throwing up, I simply stayed in one place, meditating and feeling miserable while the entire world around me collapsed into shrills and cries followed by eerie silence, off and on. Meanwhile Chris was having a gay old time, jumping around the front of the boat and back inside, not one hint of sickness about him. When the shitshow ended, we fell about the land of Big Corn Island, only to be met with on and off rain for the rest of the day. In between slight breaks in showers we would move with our bags to find a place. We quickly realized big corn island wasnt the paradise we had hoped for, more of a fishing island than a paradise, and that paradise was waiting for us on little corn. so we slept on big corn and headed to little corn the next day, only to be welcomed by 5 days of perfect weather in a lush tropical paradise. pristine white sand beaches and crystal blue and green waters, finally we had found what we had been looking for for oh so long. Plus the fact that you could get $8 lobster whenever you wanted helped us fall in love with the place even more. but now its back to leon, a city we enjoyed and our future home for the next 2 months. time to hike volcanoes and help street children.

the Beginning of Nicaragua, a country of vast adventure

¨Amen, Nicaragua was free while she had children¨(roughly, notice the proxy of oppresion, bottom right)Genocidal Bush, Enemy of Humanity¨, City Soccer; Leon, Swim anyone?, La Laguna, El Lago de Managua, Buena Vista, El Hoyo, More volcano climbing, Hostel ¨Big Foot¨, Stay tuned for more of NICA

El Salvador

Revolucionarios, Suchitoto, Waterless waterfall we decided to climb, ¨In this house we want a life free of violence towards women¨, I took a detour off this rock, La Playa EL Tunco,

Guatemala

Antigua, Antigua, Sunset; Monterrico Beach, Las Brisas Del Mar; Monterrico Beach, Livingston, Sunset on La Danta; El Mirador, Tikal, Semuc Champey, Fuentes Georinas, bracelet hustler,Roasting marshmellows on flowing lava; Pacaya, Lago de Atitlan

Del Salvador

So we have finally left Guatemala. we wanted to be out by february, but some places are just hard to leave. we are in la playa el tunco now, a surfing beach town 10km from La Libertad, a world famous beach spot given notoriety by its strong waves. after returning to antigua for our last run in Guate, we hit the coast and went south across la frontera. the difference upon hitting el salvador was stark. money, transport, people, food, you name it. traveling appears like it might be harder, or at least require us to actually do things on our own. the chicken buses in guatemala, which is the prevailing method of transportation, all had what mike and i call collectors. these are dudes who work with the driver, collecting people, their fare and their bags. there is also always someone asking you where your ultimate destination may be, to direct you towards whatever bus may be heading in that direction, even if it isnt, and most likely will not be, a direct non stop affair. el salvador is a different story. for one the tourism infrastructure is not set up. there is no person to tell you what bus to take to get where you need to go. and there is no caged in luggage rack on the top of the chicken busses, which means that we have to bring our oversized, yet overstuffed, back packs on to the bus with us, as if our incomparably large bodies were not cumbersome enough. it seems everything we took for granted for in guatemala, and in fact got tired of, does not exist here. everything that made traveling easy, all the assistance and direction.
the physical difference in peoples appearance is somewhat remarkable. we in fact are not especially tall any longer. the nationals here seem more european; whiter and taller. we noticed this immediatly after crossing the border, first and foremost the women. tall, skinny but voluptuous, lighter skin but with a dark hue still. this clearly transcends to males, but mike and i have not explicitly noticed. these physical traits, and the lack of indigenious culture compared to guatemala, is a consequence of the war, and how succesfull the el savadorian military was, with the help of the US, in exterminating darker skin and more primitive indians. the sites attesting to this attrocious war are in the north eastern parts of el salvador, and we plan on visiting some of these cities if we can ever make it out of this awesome hostel we are in now. its this cozy surfers lodge right on the beach, for 7.50 a night. the food the kitchen pumps out is incredible, ranging from 2 to 5 US dollars a meal. we have been told it will be hard to leave, and we know exactly what this piece of advice means, for we have been on the opposite end of its delivery. with this said, there is much i would like to see in el salvador, mostly related to is rich political history. many cities in the north and eastern parts of el salvador were major strongholds of the FLMN, the guerilla revolutionary group that fought the el salvadorian government. this brutal and repressive war ravaged the country side, as the el salvadorian military, with the help of billions of US dollars, systematically exterminated thousands of idigena, peasants, farmers, and anyone who appeared left leaning or supportive of the revolution. now you can visit first hand the cities that are still marred, both is people and its surroundings by the war. you can get a former guerilla as a guide, to take you around and show you various relics that are unofficially preserved by former revolutionaries.
el salvador appears to be much less conservative and much more politically engaged then guatemala. within the second day here, there was a march on the beach of young invovled citizens, waiving FMLN flags, which i was able to obtain one by the way.
i cant help but be excited for nicaragua in the midst of el salvador. we shall reach nica by next week.
tales and ails.

Los Viajeros

So we are finally leaving Guatemala for El Salvador. We just spent 4 days at Monterrico, working on our tans, and we'll be doing the same in El Salvador at El Tunco. Guate has been great and we've conquered it all. We are thinking of possibly posting up somewhere. Will it be Nica? or panama? maybe colombia or costa rica. Who knows. But the money is getting tighter. A friend also sent me a link from people who have already received their invitations for Peace Corps, and so far Ecuador is the only L.A. country in June so maybe I'll be posted there. We're planning on partying one last time in G City tomorrow night and then off to el salvador. whether we'll just do the beaches or not I'm not sure but soon enough we'll be in Nica. A line is forming for the internet so I'll be the nice guy and post some more later.

45 miles, 12 hours

we had a mule and a horse to carry our things, food , water etc., but only our feet to carry ourselves. there were 5 of us. our guide, who mike and i met on a bus to tikal , and two others. Rony, had been to el mirador once, to excavate, but never as una guia. this would be his first, which we discovered when we asked him about el mirador. after we asked him if he would take us, he said sure. and he did so, for less than a third of the price of any other organized tour. If booked from a tour agency in Flores, the price could be between $200-500 USD. We paid less than 500 quetzales each. the other two that made up our group, a canadian and his guide, we met on the bus to carmelita. they ended up being a savior , because we were drastically ill prepared, and thankfully they had ample extra food. carmelita is the town all who visit el mirador depart from. when i say town, i mean a little village three hours away from civilazation down a gravel road. it was essentially just a field, where pigs, horses, dogs and chickens roamed, a comedor and a tienda, and a health center that never was open. it took us two days to reach el mirador. the 7 hour walk to tintal, which took us 5 is considered a half way point. we spent the night there, and made it to el mirdador in about 6 hours the next day. after spending two nights and a full day exploring the ruins of el mirador, we decided to make the hike back to carmelita in one day. we woke up at 5am and started hiking through the jungle in the morning darkness. we made it to tintal by noon, had lunch, i.e. tuna and ramen, and hit the road again. the second half felt like forever, and we certainly did not have the energy to keep us moving at the same pace we made during the first half. the last 15 miles were arduous. my legs almost gave up on me. the crowd left me behind. they left mike behind shortly after. but we both made it, completing a 70 km hike in one day, i know i had never done. this is no walk in the park either, no sidewalks or grassy paths, but pure jungle. alot of the walk is through what would be swamp in the rainy season. instead its this clay like mud that almost eats your shoes at every step. spider monkeys jangle from the trees, and the canadian actually got shit on by one of them. lets consider it good luck.

el mirador is a vast complex of unexplored tombs and temples. the ancient mayan city was first abandoned in 300 AD, for mysterious reasons. only 5% of its structures have been discovered and excavated. even those remain buried beneath the jungle for the most part. that means that the huge pyramids that el mirador holds, appear to just be large mountains randomly pertruding out of the jungle floor. this could not be more of an illusion. underneath the flora and fauna are plazas, pyramids and giant acopolis´ of grandiosity. the largest and most extrordeinary is la danta. this is the biggest known still standing pyramid in the world, by volume that is. it can literally hold 17 soccer fields withiin it. it stands over 200 ft tall, and its base is a whopping 900 by 1800ft. o yea, did i mention we slept on this bad boy. we literally camped on top of this pyramid to sleep. the view; incredible, the sky; mega clear and the sounds; exclusively jungle like. because we were so high up, the bugs were kept at a minimal. the wind was pretty brutal as well, and almost blew our tent away at one point. we saw several shooting stars by the way, which i dont think i have ever seen one in my life. appearantly they happen quite often, although you rarely see them because the sky is so tainted by pollution. not the case when you are 60km into the jungle. Chris did a good job capturing the trip so let me add some details. The view from La Danta, the largest pyramid known and the place where we slept, was an incredible 360 degree panoramic view. Our Guide pointed out Tintal to us which was just a little spec in the distance, and we could see several other smaller pyramids still under the jungle. The bugs were not a problem, and in fact I've been bitten by more bugs staying in hotels than in the jungle. We had a great time while we were out there and the walk back was indeed arduous. We decided to make it back in one day because we wanted to catch the one and only bus out of carmelita which leaves at 5am. If we had not made it in one day then we would have had to camp an extra night. And the bus ride was a journey in and of itself, of a barrelling dirt road that would constantly throw you around. When we finally made it to Carmelita, the little images of beer and sodas and all things sweet became reality as we slumped ourselves into the tienda and bought all of our hearts desires. We also ran into the Germans which we had met in San Pedro {and I'm not sure if we had mentioned them before} but they are pretty awesome and they had said they were going to mirador at the same time, so we saw them coming out when we were going in. They came back later for a second trip to go hunting in the jungle and we drank some beers with them in carmelita. Chris got very cranky on the walk back which made it easier to pass him. We also never talked about Tikal I don't think. We camped at Tikal and snuck in with some insight for our soon-to-be guide Rony, and sneaking into Tikal is actually extremely easy. So easy that we sacked our plan to wake up very early to watch the sunrise from Temple IV and just strolled in at about 8am. But then we got busted this second time, so after some theatrics we went back to camp and decided we'd have to justpay for the ticket anyways, which is alot at 150 quetzales. Tikal was very impressive however, and Mirador may be like that in the future once they get all of the ruins our from under the jungle. But for now Mirador is a path tread lightly by tourists, still buried deep inside the jungle.

para el mirador

so we got our heads shaved, less hair for the bugs to nest. the beards remain. we leave today with two guatemaltecas and a mule for el mirador, a two day hike each way. this site is 7 miles from the mexican border and holds some of the largest and unexplored sites from the mayan world.
hopefully we get back to civilization by saturday.
wish us luck.

On to Tikal

So here we are, on the precipice of going to Tikal, so we´ll find out if the hype is real. Tikal by the way is an ancient Mayan city, amd the ruins have been restored, and it holds one of the largest pyramids from the Mayan world. Currently we´re in Flores, a tiny tiny little island village om the Peten Itza lake. Its quite beautiful despite the clouds struggling to keep the sun from shining through. Last night it also rained, the first time we had really seen rain this whole trip, although Chris and I were asleep by 9pm, a strange occurrence which has been happening lately. Another occurrence we´re getting used to is the daily routine of waking up to new and mysterious bug bites no matter where we stay, and curiously enough none of the bites are from mosquitoes. And Chris and I have been growing beards for over a week now and they´re getting pretty crazy. Before Flores, we were in Lanquin, which is in the middle of nowhere Guatemala, in a beautiful Valley surrounded by mountains. We stayed at a place called Rabin Itzam the first night because we got in so late from out long backcountry trip from Huehuetenango to Lanquin. By the way, these places with names like Rabin Itzam we can´t tell anymore if they´re Mayan or Israeli, because for some reason there is a large Israeli expat population in Guatemala. Maybe they come after their 2 year service in the army. We were even discriminated against in San Pedro, at an Israeli run hostal called Zoola, where the woman quickly looked us up and down and said there were no rooms - a phrase we have never heard on this trip. In fact there are always rooms. And we never have reservations. We merely hear about the next place to go visit from expats, hop on a bus there, and after many ¨no gracias´¨ to the swarming ´guides´that want to show us hotels to stay in, we quickly find one and put our bags down and explore our new surroundings. This is essentially how we travel. After Rabin itzam, Chris not-so-cleverly asked where El Retiro was - another hostal down the road full of gringos. To this the woman who worked at our place profusely asked ´why?´before finally giving us drections. She had devolved into such a funk andwas sending us such negative vibes after this that the decision to move was made very easy. El Retiro was like a fantasy hide away. Set upon the Lanquin river the large grounds were bset with thatch roofed bungalows, amd even our own roaming cow. But I guess Chris already mentioned this. In Lanquin we went to the caves there at dusk and watched bats fly out. At Semuc Champey (9 km from Lanquin), which was certainly a highlight of the trip, we went deep into caves, even having to swim at certain times, and performed many jumps - off of rope swings, bridges, high rocks, etc. We´re also getting used to seeing a lot of the same expats from time to time, which I guess shows how small the country is. From Lanquin we took a micro to Flores. which was a little over 8 hours. Interstingly, there were only 4 of us who left from El Retiro, and here is the shocker, we didn´t pick up anyone along the way- a true first. So instead of being crammed between 4 mayans, a chicken and bouncing mayan children, we had our own row of seats to lay down on. Now we have to figure out how we will go about Tikal, whether to camp there or stay 20 minutes away in El Remate. After Tikal we´ll come back down the Atlantic side of the country and wrap things up. Then party in Guatemala city or Antigua. Then off to el Salvador and Nicaragua.

You Could Say We´re halfway...

Through Guatemala that is. So we are doing a loop through Guatemala, paying homage to even the most remote of touristy sites. By the end of the circle, before exiting Guate, we should have visited all the attractions of this beautiful country. We just seem to be doing it in the most unconventional way. Not to say that there is one routine way of traveling through Guatemala´s landscape, but the route we are taking is less navigated. To us, it make sense due to its linear path. To others, it is rugged and ardurous. These challanges not only make the adventure more compelling, but are outwieghed by the benefits of taking the most direct path.
Starting in Guatemala city, the southern capitol, a little over two weeks ago, we headed north west to Antigua. From there we made a day trip to an active, lava spewing volcano, before heading to El Lago de Atitlan. There we spent a night in Panajechel, before boating across the lake to San Pedro; an ex-patriot commune nestled at the foot of the volcanoes that surround the lake. Spending a week in San Pedro, taking spanish classes and recovering from our illness, we made a day trip to Chichicestenango, and bought a machete at the local market. From there we headed NW to Quetzeltenango, or Xela (Shee-la), where we spent a weekend. This city, second largest in Guatemala, is positioned 2335m above ground, way in the highlands, and is reminiscent to Antigua, just not run by foreigners. The city is cold, and has colonial history, from the Germans, who designed the gothic architecture of its main buildings. All too much a European town. And not coincidentally, probably the best place to live as a foreigner, with many oppurtunities to teach, learn and volunteer. Mike and I would have definetly spent more time there, if its weather didnt mirror that of which we escaped DC for. We did have enough time to make a day trip to Fuentes Georginas, a natural spa of hot water fueled by the sulfur springs of the volacanoes. The setting is tropical, and the water is hot, and gets boiling to the touch the further you go towards the waterfall, that releases the scorching liquid right from the source.
From Xela, we head to points of no return, East through the mountain ranges towards Tikal. This is where most travelers head back south to Antigua or Guate City before heading to Tikal or Lake Izabel. but our aforementioned path is calling, and we remained determined to take the circular and more direct course. other fellow travelers form more of a snowflake like shape, as they go back and forth, north and south, constantly retracing their steps, all to avoid the rugged and less explored terrain that Mike and I now find ourselves in.
We go to HueHuetenango, normally used as a resting place to and from Mexico, but to us the first stop of 6, to Lanquin. It is a dirty town, and we do not leave the bus stop, as we spend the night in a terminal hotel, with small concrete boxes as rooms. The next morning, the journey begins, we start with a microbus to Aguacatan, then another to Sacapulas, and another to Uspantan. From there we hitch another that is supposed to take us to Coban. The transit however was interuppted, as the bus could not go any further because a landslide had destroyed the road, and taken over 200 lives as well. This is where it got interesting. We hopped in the back of a pick up, with a dutch couple and a several locals, that took us on a detour to Coban. This one way road started as a mud fest, where we struggled to maintain traction down the sides of the moutain. Many times we had to stop and reverse, finding space against the cliffs to let a different vehicle by. Soon enough we made it to the valley, and hauled ass along the river on the gravel road, truck serfing. this method was identical to the way we made it to Fuentes, and i believe we have some video footage of both, by the way. once finally making it to Coban, after 5 different vehicles, and over 10 hours of traveling, we had about 40 miles left, to the village of Lanquin. This bus had assigned seating!! can you believe that, assigned seating in Guatemala, a country where kids literally play tag with machete in hand, families fit 4 to a motorcycle and life expectancy is one of the lowest in Latin America. we soon figured out the logic behind this restrictive, American-like policy. The numbers to the seat were aribitrarily construed as to fit up to 5 passangers in rows of seating meant for 3. 3 Guatemalans that is, not bodies of immense length like Mike and I´s.
I digress, we make it to Lanquin. From here we hit the caves, that extend miles in to the earth, and visit Semuc Champey, a spot off the Cahabon Rio, with series of cool pools of turquios and emerald green water. We checked in to El Retiro, a commune on the river. This lodge is your typical beach bungalow, shanty shacks and huts with lofts are your main sleeping quarters, but you can also rent a hammock to sleep on for $3 a night. Dinner is a communal affair, 50 Q´s for a vegetarrian buffet. there is a roaming cow, a fire pit and a night time gaurd armed with M-16.
One problem, no ATM in Lanquin, and this lodge is one of those resort type deals, where although unexpensive, offers everything you need so you do not have to, nor want to leave it. I have seemed to come down with another spell, and mike was kind enough to make the trip back to Coban to withdraw for the both of us. I am almost positive that the sterile pen is the cause of my ailments. Its not as if i have isolated all the variables, but i have narrowed this tool down, and its inablity to fully purify the water we are drinking, as the source of my stomack pains and weakness. I think i will retire this item for last resort use.
Tomorrow; Semuc Champey.
In the possible horizon; El Mirador and the Bay Islands. the latter more probable, the former most intriguing. El Mirador is deep into the Peten Jungle, 5 miles from the Mexican border. To get here, invovles a grueling 45 mile trek in primitive conditions, most likely with a armed private gaurd, as this area is no mans land, and is sovereign only to the guerillas and narcos that dominate the mexican/guatemalan border. This ancient mayan ruin holds the tallest pyramid ever in the Mayan world; El Tigre. The metroplis was said to be abandoned for mysterious reasons and virtually all its builidings remain buried beneath the jungle.
The Bay islands, on the carribean coast off Honduras, hold the second largest barrier reef in the world and may be possible to visit from Rio Dulce, where we will go after Tikal. This will be our eastern point, where we will descend back to Guatemala city, completing our circle, and heading south along the pacific.
Location of Next post; the carribean side of the Guatemalan/Honduras border, or the pacific beaches of El Salvador.

Correction

Mike has so far done great encapsulating our trip since the last post, indeed i will not bore you with a competing account. although im sure you would love more graphic details regarding the epic, yet brief, plague we contracted. but i must say one thing about the conversion rate that mike listed because it merits immediate correction. it is 7.1, not 1.7, Guatemalan Q´s per US $. Basically it costs us $130 to pull out 1,000 Q´s. pretty good deal, heh?
hopefully i will beat mike to the next post, otherwise we will fight to the death to determine who gets to summarize our latest adventures.
hasta luego

Paradise Lost

We arrived at Lake Atitlan, a gorgeous crystal blue mass of water surround by towering volcanoes. We stayed in Panajachel for a night and upon the realization there was nothing to do there, we hopped the boat for San Pedro, a village on the other side of the lake. After getting settled at what is quite possibly the farthest hotel (although cheap and with a nice view) we partied pretty hard. The next morning, as the usual cold air seeps into the room and at which time I would normally grab my sweater and put it on, I came to the stark realization that my sweater was still in Pana. I jumped out fo bed, gathered my things and headed for the dock. Then I realized I didn´t have any money. I head for the bank which when they said was át the top´ of the hill, they weren´t kidding. And by hill I mean Morgantown style 30 degree sloped hill. Then I quickly discovered I didn´t have my debit card on me. I finally got it all settled and jumped on the boat for Pana. Luckily, we stayed at a hospedaje (guest house) run by an elderly mayan couple and the woman had found my sweater and held onto it. by the time I had made it back to the dock another boat was departing. I met up with Chris and we bought some food a local store. Chris prepared an awesome meal and we took a nap. I don´t know what it was. The food? The water? All I know is when I woke up from my nap I was completely devoid of energy. I could barely get out of bed. Add to that a fever, and you have me sleeping on and off for the next 29 hours or so. This was two days ago. This sickness developed into what you would typically assume would happen when traveling. That continued horrendouly through yesterday. Today I feel better but my stomach still hurts. Chris is lying in bed because his stomach hurts too, although he wasn´t sick like I was. We´ve decided to stay in San Pedro for a week and take Spanish lessons. San Pedro is part expat part mayan, ordained with slim alleyways that work like a labyrinth when walking about. Oh and don´t be confused, we are now fully in Mayan country. Did we mention our visit to the Pacaya Volcano from Antigua? We were right next to the lava, roasting marshmellows. One of the coolest things I´ve done. Interestingly, there are even expat owned and operated businesses here. For instance, there is Zoola, an Israeli retreat where your more likely to hear hebrew than Spanish. At Zoola the woman looked us up and down and said they had no rooms. We´re still trying to figure if it was because we´re not Israelis. Hows that fro discrimination? Or take Phatburger, a horrendous storefront run by an odd American expat where Chris and I got tricked into eating. The food was expensive for here, which the thought of combined with our lackluster experience there, nearly ruined our first day in Sand Pedro. Phatburger, we have theorized, could very well be the source of our newfound illness. We have much ahead in this week. we can use kayaks for free, since we signed up for the spanish classes (4 hours per day, for one week at $67 US). By the way, the conversion from one US dollar to one Queztal is 1 to 1.7. Oh and have you seen Apocalypto? Yeah when the Mayan people talk its kind of like that, for real.

Somos los Muchileros!!

Mike said this several times to innocent strangers as we departed our hostel from Guatemala city. "We are backpackers" says it all, but it wasnt like that was not blatantly obvious, two long white bodies with backpacks that take up our torsos' entirety. the phrase itself does not have the negative connotations that the word gringo presents however.
Antigua, is cool. we keep asking people what to do here and we get the same response, go out drinking, meet people and have a good time. i think we accomplished that last night. this is definetly gringo town though, mostly because its the launching pad for volcanos, lakes and other natural hot spots.
we should be posting pictures soon, if our blog is capable. if it appears that mike and I are wearing the same clothes in each picture, its because we are, that is no illusion.

To Antigua

I woke up early today, probably the earliest voluntary wake up in recent memory, clocking in at about 730. I´m the only one up right now, and if the amount of coffee cups sitting idle next to the coffee maker is an accurate indication of the number of people now staying here, then the number has increased to 9, including us. My Spanish, which has become rusty since studying abroad in Cuba, has come back quicker than Chuck Norris from a roundhouse kick to the face. Yesterday was pretty lackluster, in that there simply was not much to do in Zona 1, the historic part of the city. Zone 1 is the scene that most likely pops into your head when thinking of G City, with all the congestion, mass of people, etc. The only real sight, El Palacio Nacional, was so boring Chris and I dipped out of the tour halfway through (but were found and had to quietly serve the rest of the time with the group until we could leave). While tempted to eat at the Wendy´s on the corner, we instead went to el mercado central and bought some food there sitting alongside many other guates dong the same. This was the place with all the kitsch, easy pickings for gifts. We did manage to navigate the public bus system, which was an experience unto itself, without incident. With this uneventful day we pledged to head straight to Antigua the next day, and over a few beers with Luis last night, he agreed to give us a ride there. Luis lives halfway between G City and Antigua (which is maybe 45 min away) and he said we could check out his town also. Antigua is where most of the backpackers flee too as soon as they land in G City, and it is a beautiful old Spanish colonial town. The scene there is supposed to be more catered to the backpacker and Antigua is the jumping off point for most of the sights in Guatemala. Luis has also told us of a sight to see that we had not heard of yet, La Laguna de Ipala, a lagoon located atop a volcano, in the Chiquimula region. We´ll definitely have to make it there. Antigua itself is surrounded by 3 volcanoes, so we´ll be volcano hopping shortly.

I would say more but damn this connection is slow, and i think there just might be better things to do

Guatemala city, or what i have witnessed of it so far, is more what i did not expect than what i did. granted it has its´third world facets, clogged streets, high emissions, more motorcycles than the CC´s that power them, street vendors etc. but we have yet to be overly hassled. the endemic violence, out running the criminals, and the rampant corruption, outwitting the police, has yet to be seen. the city is on the rise yet stuck in antiquity. payles shoes, dominos and quiznos stand side by side with ancient sculptures, parks and museums. Economic disparites are evident, and preserved. gated and barbed wired communities with three car garage homes inside seperate the rich from the rest of the residents, who appear to make a honest living themselves.
Zona Viva, where we are residing, is pretty much the only thing Guatemala City has to offer for American tourists like ourselves, bars clubs,malls and restaurants other than the historic, colonial relics of the sate; the national palaces, churches and parks.
we depart for Antigua tomorrow, used by travelers as a gateway to everything cool in Guatemala.
Lago de Atitlan, Tikal, Semuc Champey, Monterrico beach: here we come.

La Cuidad de Guatemala

So we safely made it through our first day in Guatemala City without being robbed, kidnapped, or having our organs harvested. In fact, so far Guate is the complete opposite of what you´d think. It is very developed and quite beautiful. This fact is accentuated by the fact that we are staying in Zona 10 (Zona Viva) where all the malls, restaurants, and bars are located. We did witness the view of colorful shantytowns when our flight was landing, but those are far removed from our current location. So far the Guatemalans have been very warm and friendly, this morning the women that worked here made Chris and I some pancakes and coffee, which is a great way to start the day. Yesterday Luis, my friend and our guide through Guate, met us at the airport, which upon seeing him completely lifted the tension of being in a strange new place. We proceeded in his car to some malls, to check them out and exchange some money. The first was Oakland mall, which rivals Tyson´s Corners in is scale and grandiosity. Then we went to Fontabella, near our hostel, which looked like a plaza with shops straight out of Italy. The Hostel, by the way, is amazing. It´s called Xamanek, and it´s located right near all the clubs and bars in Zona Viva. There are only a few people staying here, and the interior looks like a mix of post modern Swedish design and grandmas hand-me-downs. We plan on staying here for two more nighs and then heading out to Antigua where we will really get our bearings. I´ve also realized that A) camping is most likely not going to take place while we are in Guate, and B) we´ll need at least 5 weeks to see all of Guate. Today we´ll head into Zona 1 to see the central Park, El Palacio Nacional, and some more of the historic sights and museums. Already Guatemala has defied expectations, and we can tell that Guate has many more surprises in store for us.

Basement Farewells

As I lounge in the underground, bunker like basement of the Erickson household, deep in the historic Del Ray district of Alexandria, I ponder what better way I could spend my last night in the states, than with three awkwardly big bodied Erickson alphas.  No surprise I spent Friday night frequenting the Fairfax bar scene with the crew, and got mega wasted grilling waffles in Mansey's petite kitchen, leaving me not only physically exhausted but too mentally unresponsive to participate in the admonishing discussion regarding poisonous snakes, explosive diarrhea and festering blisters, that we will apparently inevitably encounter.  Luckily, my welcoming sleeping assignment is tantamount to hard wood floor, and will invariably place me next to Mike in his cold and subterranean basement, as if I won't be spending the next at least half year in agonizing sleeping arrangements with Mike as my sole and only accustomed companion.  Despite these discomforts, I remain adamantly prepared to begin our utterly spontaneous and unorganized travels throughout a region plagued with corruption, poverty, violence and oppression balanced with extreme natural beauty, rich bio-diversity,  indigenous cultures, exquisite food and wonderful people.  For all you readers with even the slightest bit of tacit jealousy, this trip is not in anyway unique to Mike and I.  Get out; Explore, See, Understand.  And if you need a catalyst for such life changing experiences, hope that the two of us will make enough moves to establish ourselves so that you can come and visit us, wherever we may be so transiently residing.  Until post #2, From Guatemala, Paz y Amor, Adios.

Almost There

Chris and I are a little more than 36 hours from landing in Guatemala!  I just made this blog (my first blog ever) in the hopes that it would be the best way for the both us us to post what's going on with our trip and share a little bit of our adventures with our friends.  I think we're prepared enough to at least get through the initial phrase well.  I have some friend in Guatemala City, and one of them, Luis, has agreed to pick us up at the airport, saving us some tension in a new place.  We both have a one-way ticket, a little bit of money, and all the time in the world.  So we'll take things as they come and make our plans as we go.  We both also became certified to teach english, but whether or not we settle down somewhere to do that, or stay on the move, we'll decide as we travel and experience the rich continent of Latin America!