filling in the blanks

i have left out quite a bit:

there was the 2 day volcano trek near leon, nicaragua. there was sleeping outside near the volcano on the one night a year that the locals decide to have a big christian revival party wherein they praise jesus until midnight (complete with generator and sound system which they hauled in on foot), then get insanely drunk and run about wildly, burning everything they can find. i wish it had stopped there. by 2am they were throwing burning logs about which land next to you and your sleeping bag (we had no tents). so after getting no sleep and narrowly avoiding injury, we trekked out at 4am and finished the day at the bubbling mud pits. before the party got out of hand however, the volcano was very cool. a huge smoking crater with lava flows visible at night.

then there was another volcano the next day, which i sledded down at high speed. that was a first. occasionally nutty people actually stand and do the equivalent of snowboarding down. falling in the snow is one thing. and i don´t even really like doing that. so i passed on the opportunity to fall into sharp lava rock. a lot of rock hit me in the face, regardless.

then there were my treks around matagalpa, before i fell in the sewers. tourists barely go there so i surprised a lot of friendly (and occasionally unfriendly) locals.

nicas (as nicaraguans are called) are a refreshing change from hondurans. very friendly. hondurans were stand-offish. this despite the fact that reagan (and others americans before him) caused a great deal of grief down here. i have had a few interesting conversations with nicas about the revolution and US involvement.

there more of course, but i´ve got to go.

shit pit

last night i fell though a sidewalk and landeded in a sewer 10 feet below.

there was some sort of contruction project, it was an exceptionally dark night, the street light was out, and of course there was nothing blocking the dangerous section of sidewalk.

there is nothing quite like falling into a pitch black pit that you didn´t expect to be there. you start falling, and at first you think, "hey i´m falling... but wait... i was just walking... this makes no sense." eventually you accept that you are indeed falling. after that, you think to yourself, "why havent i landed yet? this is taking a very long time." that is when you start to conclude that you are probably going to die, or at least break a lot of bones. that was pretty much how it went, until i finally hit the bottom. yes, time slows down.

a large crowd quickly formed around the hole and the fire department came and rescued me, since there was no defintely no way to climb out. it was all very exciting, both for me and the locals. the locals now think that gringos are superhuman, which is pretty cool. they probably also think that gringos are very stupid, which is less cool. of course at home i would be suing the city for negligence (and would be winning easily), but that´s not how things work here.

i am a bit sore today, and have a few scrapes, but somehow, that´s it. oh, and i am still trying to get the putrid smell out of my clothes and bag. i feel both very forutnate and very unfortunate. india was filled with these sort of death traps, but i always somehow avoided them there. i will not let my guard down again. i think i might also just take more cabs at night.

utila, the rest

i spent 6 days on utila.

utila is all about the diving. most of the people there take diving classes there, since it´s the cheapest place to get certified in the western hemisphere. i am already certified, but i hadn´t dived in 15 years. i did remember the only rule that is really necessary--"breathe"... or the long version --"don´t hold your breath while you ascend or your lungs will explode". anyway, i tood a little refesher class, preformed all of the tricks, and went for 2 dives.

i snorkeled. the snorkeling was better. i have confirmed once again that diving is stupid. you spend all sorts of money, you lug around all sorts of equipment, you can only stay down for like half an hour, yet the cool fish all hang out at snorkeling depth anyway.

i kayaked though a mangrove canal that bisects the island, and ended up on the deserted north side of the island. i saw some tasty looking tourquoise blue crabs. the trip back was treacherous, as the seas were extremely rough and i was constantly soaked by waves. i had to stop a few times and bail out the kayak.

one day i rented a bike. i got across the island, and the bike broke. i spent 2 hours walking it back. i got another bike and rode it to another corner of the island. at the furthermost point, the chain snapped. i spent 1 hour walking it back. i got into a huge all-spanish shouting match with the bike people, who would not give me my money back, and even worse had the nerve to accuse me abusing their bikes. all i did was ride them. anyway, fighting really brings out my best spanish, i must say. that wasn´t my favorite day.

i drank a lot of beer. every night there is different semi-secret location where all the locals go for their big night out. i ended up hanging out most of the time with 2 guys (a mexican and a belgian) who insisted upon finding that place each night. we always managed to do it. the mexican guy would spend each night hitting on chicks and complaining how stuck up they all were when he was rejected. it was literally difficult to walk a block without his stopping to put his moves on some unfortunate woman. though to his credit, he did find a local middle aged divorcee who wanted to marry him. the belgian guy´s favorite pastime was complaining about the price of everything even though the island was remarkably cheap, i thought. hanging out with those guys more than anything else would drive me to drink.

utila, day 1

the ferry to the carribean island of utila is not a lot of fun.

many of the tourists, myself included, sit out front to enjoy the rare sunny weather.

the crew knows what is about to happen, but they say nothing.

the seas become rough, and waves start crashing across the front, soaking all of us.

the crew laughs, as we all rush inside. that´s when they start handing out the vomit bags.

and they chuckle at us some more.

and so i finally arrive at my island destination, slightly worse for wear.

before we are allowed to get off the boat, a drug sniffing dog gives me and my bags the once over. this is done simply to extort money from
backpackers, since there is no international border and anybody could easily drive a boat full of cocaine up to any point on the island. bastards.

i find a the perfect hotel in a quiet, beautiful location. $6 a night.

it is warm and sunny. i am happy.

i decide to wander. first i go the iguana station, a home for rescued and endangered iguanas.
i see lots of disabled reptiles. they charge me $2, which they will use to convince the locals to stop eating delicious endagnered iguanas.

then i head into the jungle to see them in the wild. i have no idea where i´m going.
the mood changes from lightheared island trek to descent into the heart of darkness.

some way in, a sickly stench fills the air. thousands of flies are swarming. the trail runs red with blood.

a dog proudly scampers by with what looks like entrails hanging from his mouth.
he has the largest testicles i have ever seen on a dog. the testicles and entrails bob and swing in unison.

i start thinking about dr. moreau and his unholy island experiments.
though i cannot see the logic in creating creatures with giant balls.

finally i see the origin of the river of blood. i see the guts and hide of a cow--everything else has been hauled off.
i am slightly relieved, but only slightly. and only momentarily.

because suddenly two youngish white guys appear on the trail--a big burly one and a small one.
they don´t really walk toward me as much as lumber.
there is a dullness to their inbred, slackjawed stares.
they are covered up to their waists in mud.
the large one is brandishing a machete, which he holds up as he walks as if he might need to strike at any moment.

in that "deliverance" moment, i pray that they don´t find me "purdy", and simply kill me quickly.

i decide to take a friendly approach. i greet them and ask them where the trail goes.

they respond slowly and with considerable effort.

they turn out to be friendly mormons, of all things, on the island on their mission. it´s their day off and they decided to hack their way through the swamps to the other side of the island.

not having a machete, and being eaten alive by mosquitoes, i dedide to head back, once the mormons disappear from sight.

it is a good day. and i do see a giant iguana in a tree on the way back.

i am in the largest city of my trip thus far... la ceiba. it is an armpit of a city along the carribean coast, filthy and filled with sleazy nightclubs with names like "chicas caliente" and so on. the sign on my hotel room door implores me not to bring home prostitutes. at least it is warmer now that i am out of the mountains. still rainy and cloudy, but warmer.

while a shithole, la ceiba is the staging point for a number of interesting things--among them diving/snorkelling in the bay islands, and adventures in the remote jungles of la moskitia (the mosquito coast--where harrison ford went nuts in that terrible movie), just to name a few. tourist infrasture however is lacking here and everything is closed on sunday, so i am having a hell of a time trying to figure out how to go about anything other than getting to the islands, which is all everyone else seems to do.

i guess i´ll just start with that tomorrow. i could use a few days splashing around in warm carribean waters, once i refresh my scuba skills. on the downside, the sandflies there crave human flesh, supposedly making the beaches uninhabitable.

volcano addendum

i can´t believe i forgot to mention the best part of the volcano hike....

when i reached the top, i saw a neighboring volcano erupt.

well, at least that´s what my guide called it. really it just sort of spews out a cloud of soot every once in a while, but it was still pretty cool.

country 4, here i come

i climbed another volcano this morning, starting at 5am. got scammed into taking a guide, even though i´m not sure why a tiny guide would stop banditos. and there did seem to be bandits about, as the cops were hot on the trail of someone. i reached a height of 3020 meters. no wonder it felt like my legs were made of lead.

enough of guatemala. tomorrow i will enter honduras.

graphics and demographics

guatemala gets a lot of 20 year old packpackers. and lots of americans too. conversing with 20 year olds generally gets tiresome quickly. the 30-somethings seem to find me, and vice versa. we all point out how old we feel amongst the pardy hardy backpackers.

traveling in guatemala is easy. touristy places are connected by (relatively) confortable shuttles. i haven´t taking a chicken bus at all since belize, which makes me kind of sad. of course, i have the power to change this.

antigua is vastly overrated. if i want european style cafes, and european style prices, i will go to europe. oh and there are also european style mcdonalds and burger kings there too.

guatemalan people are amongst the shortest i have ever encountered. i am a giant here.

guatemalan woman really do wear those black outfits with oodles of colorful flair, which makes me happy for some reason. men just dress like men do everywhere, only with an ephasis on cowboy. people are pretty friendly, and usually share holas or buenos diases.

you don´t get harassed by touts and salespeople here nearly as much as you do in asia. and i will repeat what i said before--people speak spanish, even areas where there are more english speaking tourists than locals.

in general, while i am enjoying my experience, it is not quite the adventure that asia was. maybe i am just jaded...

oh, and map updating seems to be broken at the moment.

update

apologies for the long delay.

some highlights & lowlights from days past:

- standing at the entrance to a cave at dusk as thousands of bats brush against me as they rush out to dine. fortunately guano easily washes away. walking home in the dark, i came across a local passed out on the roadside. he did not respond to questions regarding his condition, though he groaned a bit. minutes later i encountered one guatemalan beating another in the street. townsfolk stood around and watched silently, mesmerised. no one felt like intervening. apparently sunday is drinking day.

- bathing in the stepped tourquoise pools of semuc champey was awfully nice. pick your favorite picture

- i took a 5 day spanish course in antigua. this is a one-on-one sort of thing. $75 for 4 hours a day. i didn´t learn anything i didn´t already know grammar-wise, but my vocabulary has improved. i am far better with spanish now than most travelers.

- i climbed a volcano, along with a thousand other people. saw lava flow. go ahead and look at other people´s pictures.

- i found my way from antigua to giant lake atitlan. it´s sort of like the lake tahoe of guatemala, only some of the surrounding mountains happen to be volcanos, and it´s a hell of a lot warmer, of course. oh and then there are the bandits, as there are everywhere.

yes, a major problem with guatemala is that everyone is always telling you that everything is too dangerous to do alone due to bandits. everywhere you go and stay, there is a guy out front with a shotgun ready to lay waste to banditos. so you get stuck doing these silly, crowded, expensive tours for no good reason. i am starting to think it is a scam. the guy who ran my guesthouse told me i could hike around the moutains surrounding the lake alone, i should just be prepared for a guy to jump out brandishing a machete and demanding everything i had. i was assured i wouldn´t be killed if i gave him what i had. fine, i thought. so i ventured out with just a bit of cash and nothing else. i walked a portion of the lake (about 3-4 hours) and only ran into friendly people with machetes (everyone male, friend and foe, seems to have machetes--women carry all the heavy stuff on their heads and backs). i ran into a few tourists too, but always in groups of 3 or more. it was nice to finally do something on my own again. i caught a boat home. passenger boats connect the various lakeside villages. the captian was a daredevil and we nearly capsized. judging by the looks on the faces of the locals, this was not a normal occurance...

td and me

by the way, "up all night" meant actually meant i was outside, as that was where the banjo was, and i was staying in a dorm with a bunch of backpackers who i thought shouldn´t have to suffer though me getting up every 10 minutes. this in spite of the fact that many of them had no problem coming back drunk at 2 am and having long converstions in swedish at my expense.

the next morning i set off to find my own precious room with bathroom. crazy fever started, so i popped the cipro, and various other drugs i had left over from india. by the evening all was well. cipro is a wonderful thing. unfortunately there was some sort of creature living in my bed who dined on one of my ankles while i slept, leaving me pock marked and itchy. and the place looked so much cleaner than average. you never really know.

i have yet to find rhyme nor reason behind TD in general. i ate dinner with a canadian couple--we all the same food exactly. one of them fell victim that night. on my turn i had schnizel with the french chef i had befriended. deep fried, well cooked meat--doesn´t get much safer than that--and only i got sick.

my ailment d´jour is a rather loathsome fungus. i will leave it at that. this would be my third full blown malady of the trip thus far.