TravelStream™ news feed for member cathandnick on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/cathandnick en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:59:24 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1183820220/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1183820220/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1183820220/tpod.html Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:59:24 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Singapore, Singapore

duncan and food and lots of beer!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1169588220/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1169588220/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1169588220/tpod.html Mon, 02 Jul 2007 23:45:06 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Copan Ruins, Honduras

Blog Entry date: Back in the month of January
Site Location: Copan Ruinas
Weather Status: Hot, humid, sunny
Entry by: Professor Tobias


Professors note:

One predicts that this entry to our blog might take a little time in reaching the shores of Blighty. Accompanying me on this adventure was my Lady friend Miss Catherine. Her company has been most pleasant and I have to say I have taken a strong liking of her being around and I find that we work very well as a team, she has become very good at organising bus tickets and seats while I am left with two heavy bags and find somewhere to store them! When we arrived safely at our destination one noted that the security with this certain bus company was fairly high with an armed man on the doors of the station, both my person and my hand luggage was checked for knives and guns and ones face was also recorded on digital camera. This was a well-established bus company and the finest for crossing borders. We also had a journey on a 'chicken bus' that was not so luxurious or security minded but it got us to our destination.
Our base camp was in the heart of the small tranquil town of Copan Ruinas. "a beautiful little village paved in cobblestone and lined with white adobe buildings with red-tile roofs... An aura of timeless harmony permeates the air."?- The Lonely Planet Guide 2006. It was a perfect place for us to make a small trek out of town to our Exploration of the Maya ruins of Copan and only 7 miles from the boarder of Guatemala. Now pay attention class Copan is designated a UNESCO world heritage site and some fellow archaeologists thought it to be the cultural centre of the Mayan civilization, very lardy dah but they are one of the most notable and cultural monuments in the world today.

Day 1
We rested and took advantage of some cold drinks and local food, albeit Thai Curry and beer, not as local as one thought, but my lady friend and I found it most agreeable. Also it gave us another opportunity to add to my album of beer labels, which will make for a fascinating presentation on my return. The restaurant-bar was the same establishment where we laid our heads and we also took comfort that there was a sign in this bar, "No Armas!" so we stowed our guns outside in a bush. Also here we crossed paths with a local strange beast, the closest thing we could match it to was the domestic Cat, it had no ears and a very strange meow. I managed to collect a photo of the beast so you can study it back home and let me know if it has been registered.
After being fed and watered we picked up our key to our room with a small Kermit the frog key ring attached and made for early night.

Day 2
We were up at the crack of dawn, well 8am. Recharged and refuelled we were ready to explore. We collected provisions of biscuits, sunscreen and ample water to keep us going throughout the day. I am not to keen on the taste of sunscreen but my lady friend pointed out it was not to eat but to apply on ones skin.
We trekked out of the town along a tree-shaded trail to the gates of Copan ruins. Here we picked up a local guide his name was Tony. Tony was about as old as the ruins and he had lived here all his life. He also pointed out to us that he was in the Guinness book of records for being the most multilingual guide around. We only needed English but it was good to know. Tony led us around the ruins telling us about the long lost Mayan culture, and interesting facts like only 20% of the site had been uncovered he also pointed out about how big the Ceiba trees can grow. We slowly walked through the forest towards the ruins and passed a group of red parrots who live here which made for an atmospheric entrance to the central site which held many temples and Estella's (Large stone structures which carried ceremony importance to their beliefs - I think). Here he told us about the history of Copan about the rulers pointing out on the Estella's hieroglyphs about the ruler Rabbit 13, (it reminded one of an order in a Chinese take away) about the ball games they played here where the losers would die at the end, a real game of life and death. He also pointed out that the ruins were like an big onion, as here as with many other Mayean sites, when a new ruler was in place they built over the top of the old buildings, this can be noted in my photographs where one of the lower levels have been exposed, Tony told us that there was about 6 to 8 layers underneath what we could see. Most interesting. He told us which buildings most of the "goodies" were to be found. (He used this term a lot to describe the hidden tressures) especially under the giant hieroglyphic stair case that carried great importance and has taken a small age in restoring it and understanding the stories told. I think it was amazing that they etched their history into the stones as if they knew one day it would be retold.

As Tony had been working a while he was also accustomed to making a little extra to supplement his guide fee. For less than half of the official price he managed to sneak us into the tunnels of Copan, so we could go exploring the underworld. He used the old movie trick of wait till the guard goes to lunch and then we were in. Tony didn't come inside with us his work was done and he was off to find some more explorers.

We explored the small tunnels, where the royals would have lived which were fairly interesting, we found our way out and made for the museum which I have to say was done very well as the exterior building was built as a contemporary representation of the ruins, a tunnel took you into the centre where there was a huge life scale replica of one of the original temples which is in the ruins but about four levels down, and you could see it as how it would have looked then, painted with red paint.

It was a good day for exploring but feeling a little parched from the relentless sun it was time for some more "goodies" this being of the golden nectar variety.

Notes: The local people of this town also made an interesting study. We left here with the memory of small pick up trucks loaded with Central American cowboys coming back from work, all wearing their cowboy hats and not really appreciating their photo taken. The Endless beauty of the countryside where the locals hang their washing out to dry on barbed fences, the little tuktuk taxis ferrying locals around the town. Although the town is well catered for tourism it never seems overpopulated with tourists, which made for a nice relaxed atmosphere to the town.

Conclusion: Copan was a very fascinating site to explore with the best-preserved hieroglyphs a good site for first timers.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1171662720/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1171662720/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1171662720/tpod.html Mon, 02 Jul 2007 23:44:00 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Palenque, Mexico

Blog Entry date: February
Site Location: Palenque
Weather status: Cold and wet
Entry by: Professor Tobias

Professors note:
So here we were on what we thought was going to be our third and final ruins of Central America.
Our Voyage across the border was successful and consisted of a few hours on a minibus. Pick up was scheduled at 5 am but consistent to Guatemalan time it was 45 mins late. We departed in the dark but it wasn't long before the sun rose. On our way we traveled past many small villages in the countryside. Familiar sites of country people living in make shift housing made from gathered wood and corrugated steel sheeting passed us by. It is a scene I had become familiar with and it saddened me to see such poverty but although poor, they have a lot to teach us. The children here happily play around with what they can find and have the imagination to find enjoyment playing with an old tyre or piece of rope for skipping. Although life here can be very basic for most people and they struggle through many hardships, living hand to mouth, being poor doesn't mean you have to be unhappy. It shows to you that it's what you make of life and what you've got and to make the most of what you have. Coming from a western culture it reminded me how we are too easily led in our society to feel disatified if we don't have something that the next person does and that our lives are somehow therefore incomplete. Whether we are missing something materialistic to extra noughts in our bank accounts or other things that our society deems necessary to fit in. It was these kids who have nothing who reminded me of this and that we should be grateful for what we do have and not for what we don't. So with that, I felt abit guilty turning on my ipod and tucking into my Snickers bar.

Anyway that's enough preaching from me, back to my lecture on Central American ruins. As we headed down an endless dirt track, we approached a small building in the middle of no where, which turned out to be immigration control. We stopped here for a swift stamp within the passport, a minor fee, a quick wee, and then headed off to the border. The border here runs directly down the river and there are no bridges around so we left our minibus on the bank and headed down to the river where a small rickety boat awaited us. We headed up the river for about half an hour. Two of the passengers, a rich middle aged couple from Paris were very annoyed that the journey was taking longer than they had been told it would and that it wasn't direct as they had been promised, however the lady managed to keep her composure and her pearls in tact while the boat swung around whirlpools and between rocks dropping us off on Mexican soil in one piece.


We walked to another small building, got our passports stamped and were off again in another minibus that took us to the hectic town of Palenque. From there we quickly made our own way out of town to our hostel for the night, which was located on the edge of the jungle. Although this establishment seems to be in the middle of nowhere, it was quite a lively affair with three outdoor restaurants, nightly live, albeit the same act each evening and really resembled a holiday camp. My lady friend Miss Catherine and I had preconceptions that Mexico would be hot and sticky, but we were greeted with cold, wet weather. It was a small shock to the system I can tell you!

The next day we were ready to explore. Being our third ruin, our excitement was dulled abit, the novelty had started to wain but the interest was still there so we donned our trusty walking boots and walked the 3k up to the entrance in the heart of the Chiapas jungle. Just before the entrance we wandered around the museum that had many interesting artefacts and incredible stone hieroglyphs, some that you will notice in ones pictograms.

The Pelanque ruins are slightly more touristy, with bus loads of people constantly arriving however the ruins themselves are beautiful, again surrounded by lush jungle and make up the third major city of the Mayan period.
After visiting all these legendary ruin sites of Copan, Tikal and Palenque it makes one think about what happened to the Mayan civilization. I think these ruins serve us of a reminder from history. As the most popular theories of the lost civilization is that the city's became too immense and they couldn't sustain themselves after over working the land and cutting down too many trees and their climate changed. The land became unusable and their resources diminished so people had to leave for pastures new, the grass was greener on the other side. It seems to me that this is happening all over again that but on a global scale. Our modern day civilizations has reached its peak and we are using up all our natural resources and climate change is reaching new levels, and soon we will be unable to sustain ourselves on earth. So disaster on a biblical scale I think will be inevitable and nature will one day reclaim our cities whether that be by jungle, water, fire or ice. Maybe this is nature's way of keeping us under control and ancient civilizations show a window of our future as history repeats itself.

My lady friend and I were quite 'ruined out' and we set our sights on returning back to more sunnier destinations. We nearly became stranded in Palenque as our bank cards did not work in Mexican cash machines and the folk in the banks couldn't help us either. However with a stroke of genius, which I often possess, I managed to recall an old pin number from an account I seldom use and we were back in business or was it the bar?

Yours truly,
Professor T
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1172008200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1172008200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1172008200/tpod.html Mon, 02 Jul 2007 23:43:07 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Flores, Guatemala

So here we were, are second Mayan site in Central America, The Tikal ruins, the mother of all Mayan ruins and one of the world's wonders and another UNESCO world heritage site. It is a spiritual place with immense pyramids reaching out of the think jungle canerpy. If Copan was the cultural centre of the Mayan world then Tikal was the wealthy metropolis with an estimated 100,000 inhabitants and held the seat of power for the so named Jaguar Lords. If I were to live in this time I think I would rather be named Jaguar than the Copan Lord named Rabbit!

Tikal ruler: "I am lord Jaguar of the Gigantic Tikal! Who are you?
Copan Ruler: 'Ooooh 'ello, my name is Rabbit 13 and my little town has lots of pretty carvings. Its sooo nice and quaint you know, Ooooh and so cultural too mmmmm, chase me!'
Tikal ruler: "Kill him!")

Anyway if one requires more facts and figures on Tikal one can visit many website. Although the above conversation between the two rulers is not fact, apparently the Copan ruler was murdered by the Tikal Lords because that is what happened to any ruler whose team lost at the famous ball game.

The scaffolding went up in Tikal around 600BC and building continued for the next 1500 years highlighting just how long the Mayan civilization was around for and how young in comparison our own historic existence is. The site is part of the Tikal National Park and covers six square miles with 3,000 structures. All the ruins are contained in thick jungle and live in harmony with all the local wildlife that supply the perfect soundtrack to walking around the ruins, with Howler monkeys, noisy parrots and quite fittingly t he odd Jaguar.


Our journey to the ruins only took a few hours from our main base town of Flores. Although one of these hours was taken up by waiting for our transportation, this would not be the first time or the last time either, it is something my lady friend and I have been getting used to. To pass the time we play cards. With all this research and travelling it has left us with the capacity to remember two card games. One goes by the name of 'shithead" (an international hit with fellow travelling explorer types) and the other being "rummy". Again my lady friend Miss Catherine treats me most kindly by gracefully losing most of the time.
After our short journey on a small minibus we had reached the gates of the park, surrounded by jungle. We had enough time to set up our hammocks in the garden with other riffraff and go into the ruins to view the sunset across the jungle from the top of the sun temple that was quite spectacular. When the sun had gone down it was predictably dark but luckily a warden and a small group of other explorers escorted us out of the park. Park wardens check the grounds every night to make sure people aren't trying to set up camp on the ruins which they had been able to do a few years ago. This is so people are not attacked by leopards and also stop folk damaging the ruins although Miss Catherine was more worried about the wide variety of creepy crawlies and the odd snake. We returned to our camp, ate a small meal and then climbed into our hammocks before the electricity was turned off at 9pm and we were all plunged into darkness. There were six hammocks strung up in total. My lady friend and I were protected from the attack of wild beasts by having other fellow explorers sleeping either side of us. If we were to be attacked, the ones on the outside would be eaten first. So we could sleep soundly or so I thought. Little did I know that the French woman next to me would turn into a Man-beast during the night. Using my knee as a support for her to get in and out fifty times in the middle of the night, she then seemed determined to make a human version of that clacking ball bearing game where the outside two go swinging back and forth all night while the others stay still but just get hit. Once the swinging had stopped the noises begun. Perhaps she was communicating to the other animals in the jungle. I was scared. Luckily Miss Catherine had her earplugs and was unaware of all the night-time activity. When we woke in the morning the beast had gone, hopefully eaten. Morning had broken, there were no blackbirds around but the rest of the jungle made up for that. The whole jungle bursts into life, such noise, from howler monkeys, exotic birds, and everything else letting each other know it was a new day! As soon as the sun is up, the noise declines and by this time we were inside the steamy ruins, ready to explore and discover. We climbed one of the temples and sat down to have an early breakfast of nutritious fruit cake I'd been keeping in my bag for the last week and as we watched the sun climb higher and higher into the sky, the warm light reached the tops of the other temples climbing out of the jungle. It was very beautiful.

With our small breakfast inside us we were ready to explore the rest of the ruins - the sheer scale of which, I have to say, is very impressive. Tikal does not have the same number or standard of hieroglyphs as Copan does but the size of this place is quite incredible. Like many of these sites that have been discovered only a small percentage has been recovered and restored, a painstakingly long process as they return the building from the grip of the jungle, although in many cases some trees cannot be removed as their roots have become so intertwined with the building that they help support the structure. I found no trace of the rebel alliance, nor did I see an X-Wing flying in the sky - I'm sure for any avid Star Wars fan you will know that this was a location for it
It had been a most interesting day and we gathered our things together and were ready to move on to our next site, which would be across the border in Mexico.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1175211480/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1175211480/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1175211480/tpod.html Mon, 02 Jul 2007 23:42:45 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Mexico City, Mexico

On the way into Mexico City our bus broke down, well the wheel blew out actually, but it was sunny outside so we all disembarked and wandered around the disused petrol station in clouds of dusty pollution from the main highway. Its times like these I miss a good old cigarette. When we got to the main bus terminal we shared a taxi into town and got totally ripped of. However we managed to get the last couple of dorm beds in the huge Youth Hostel that overlooks the main Zocalo. With views of the cathedral and square from the roof top bar (which actually never opened) it wasn't bad for a fiver a night even though we had to share a dorm with the dirtiest boys in the hostel who slept during the day and took copious amounts of drugs during the night and managed to carpet half the room with socks and dirty boxer shorts.

Mexico City has an image of being the most dangerous city. Well I'm not sure about that. It is however the biggest. You get a good idea just how vast it is by going up to the summit of Torre Latinoamericana (a 182m tower built to withstand earthquakes) at sunset where the city becomes a mass of twinkling lights with the city slums spreading into the distance. The city is full of Volkswagen Beetles, noise, music, grand colonial buildings, skyscrapers, lakes and parks one of which has the most hectic kids area ever with scary clowns, games, stalls, candy stalls - enter at own risk. Mexico city has also one of the best metro systems with a single trip with as many changes as you want costing 2 pesos! On our first day we took the metro to the lovely bohemian district of Coyaocan, after getting on the metro in the wrong direction of course, an oasis in the hectic city and a centre for arts and culture, where you will find the artists, Frieda Kahlo and Diego Rivera's house and museum a short walk from where Leon Trotsky lived, shaded squares with open air markets, fountains, cobbled streets, cafes, traditional Mexican restaurants and open air cinema. On our way back through the streets full of old Mexican villas we were stopped by a couple of men asking for money which obviously we didn't have any of as we were getting pretty broke by this stage of the trip. I did feel that the situation could have gotten a little nasty down that quiet street if a few more people hadn't turned the corner, still, it didn't stop the men following us for half an hour down the road.

The drawback of staying in dorms is that you have about a 100% chance of catching whatever nasty germs are going around. This time it was flu and the worst sore throat or was it the onset of malaria? I awoke on Friday morning feeling pretty rough but we made it to the ruins at Teotiuacan. They are incredible and have some of the most hard-core sellers of tourist rubbish we've ever come across. I awoke on Saturday morning feeling positively worse. I tried to sit up and failed and felt the day ahead might just be somewhat of a struggle, a real pain as we had to get ourselves four hours up the road to Irapuato where our friend Duncan and his girlfriend Nayeli lived to celebrate his 30th birthday. Our credit cards weren't working in the ATM's again and even my desperate plea to the bank manager didn't do any good. We went to a pharmacy and asked for something 'fuerte' - not sure what we bought but it didn't come in a packet but the suspicious tablets were sure to get us back to normal by the end of the day. Great! Right, next the metro, that we got on in the opposite direction again! After loading up with food and drink for the trip once on the bus we were given lunch boxes, doh! When we arrived in Irapuato's bus station we sat in the car park which is a fun place to wait, with little strawberry stalls, quite a few drunk men wandering around and lots of young folk who want to talk to you. Duncs and Nayeli turned up in a beast of a jeep not long after and it was so cool to see them and Duncan's new beard growth! Well it had been a year.

Irapuato has some wonderful dancing fountains that magically come alive at night together with a fantastic light display and it seems the whole community come out to see the sight nightly. It also has THE best taco stall in the whole of Central America right next to the petrol station and an English school that was set up by an Irish guy and so this small town has a small community of mad Irish girls who live there as English teachers. Duncs is a teacher at the school and was sharing his birthday party with one of the feisty girls. The party was brilliant even though I felt like crap and had to be taken home early - obviously the suspicious tablets weren't as 'fuerte' as we had hoped. Nayeli, after completing her Psychology degree, set up her own school for children with learning disabilities and the school is a short walk from their house. She is also very involved with indigenous communities, traditions and alternative therapies. Visiting Duncs and Nayeli was very inspiring, their positivity rubs off on you and neither of them is scared to challenge themselves and change their life, move to another country, learn a new language (surprisingly well actually) start a new job, become part of the community - well it must be love. It was very cool to stay with them and their two huge dogs and experience a bit of luxury for a weekend.

We all got in the car and took a drive out into the arid countryside. A popular place to visit is the pilgrimage site for many a devout Mexican who visit the church every day but especially at the weekend when the road leading up to the monastery comes alive with coach loads of people and cars full to bursting point. It is a breathtaking drive, but also a sad one as you pass a lot of poor families and very young children begging from passing vehicles. It takes about an hour to get up the steep dirt track to the mountaintop where the monastery and statue of Christ perch, overlooking the plains below. Christ faces out towards the direction of the town that donated the most funds to the building. When you get to the top you climb some marble steps and are confronted by a huge open circular area between you and the shrine. People take the Catholic religion very seriously here and when some people arrive at the site they choose to kneel at the top of the marble steps and do a sort of knee slide across the concourse, muttering prayers, until they reach the statue of Jesus. It's a rather odd sight and takes forever although one young man was obviously quite experienced at this knee sliding exercise and made it across in under 5 minutes without stumbling over or dropping his three boxes of biscuits - perhaps he was in a rush, perhaps he was the delivery man. No doubt the monks from the monastery would appreciate the biccies later to have with their afternoon cup of tea - they looked good to dunk. Some people had bought other offerings for God and the mixture of ancient Mayan culture and Catholicism can be clearly seen. Huge expensive bouquets of flowers, which people would have probably spent a long time saving to buy, had been left at Jesus' feet with bottles of booze, chocolates and elaborate fruit displays. The emotion that gripped some worshippers was quite amazing and you get a real sense how crucial religion is for some Mexicans however difficult this is to relate to. Before we headed off to Guanajuato, across the countryside, we stocked up on local food from a stall owned by the friendliest women. I didn't understand a word that they were saying to Nayeli but thankfully she translated and the women were wishing Nick and I well on our travels and that God take care of us. Well, the tacos, stew, re-fried beans definitely gave us the strength to go on so thankyou ladies! However all this food wasn't enough for Nicholas and he felt the need to purchase some of the world's biggest pork scratching's. They were quite impressive though.

Guanajuato 'city of frogs' is stunning and you can understand why it's a heritage site. Tiny painted houses make up a quilt of bright colours covering the hillsides, there are gorgeous restaurants and cafes, cobbles streets, beautiful flowers flowing from pots and over walls, the best candy shop ever and a small street named the kissing street where if lovers who pass don't kiss on the 3rd step they will be ill fated so I stuck my tongue down Nick's throat while everyone watched - Dunc's was supposed to take a photo but we ended up with a video, hmmm, pervert. After Duncan got us lost a couple of times and I spotted a few rats along the back streets, we climbed up to the highest viewpoint in the city and had a breather while the sun set over the city.

The next day we had to go back to Mexico City to fly to the States. It was very sad to leave little Irapuato, Duncs and Nayeli and it felt very strange that our travels around Latin America had come to an end. We weren't ready for western civilisation!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1171835640/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1171835640/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1171835640/tpod.html Mon, 02 Jul 2007 23:42:30 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico

San Cristobal is in the highlands of the Chiapas region and it possesses a magical quality. The streets are a maze of multi-coloured churches, mansions and houses with the backdrop of lush, green mountains. The light is intensely clear and the air is crisp and clean. It was very crisp when we arrived from tropical, wet Palenque wearing t-shirts and stepped off the bus to greet minus zero temperatures! The drive from Palenque took us through the highland region, through traditional Mayan villages with their own laws, dress codes and languages. We passed one village that was in the throws of a traditional dance with all the villages dressed in traditional red costume and hats dancing around in a circle and singing. The spectacle in the green forest in the middle of nowhere was somewhat bizarre.


The Chiapas area has become well known in the press since 1994 with the emergence of the Zapatistas (named after the Mexican revolutionary Emiliano Zapata) a small band of rebels who rose up against the corruption and inequality of the government and the exploitation of the indigenous people to fight for autonomy for the regions people. One hundred and fifty Zapatistas were killed in the conflict and even though the government went on to sign a treaty which allowed indigenous people to be self-governing, peace talks were suspended and there followed numerous government led massacres in small villages up until 1998. The road through this region is apparently above averagely dangerous with rebel roadblocks and hi-jacking's occurring. Would you believe it, when we were not far from San Cristobal our bus slowed down as it overtook a huge truck carrying a digger which we had been following for sometime and which was being hi-jacked by a gorilla, a scientist with gas mask, a skeleton and a clown each holding guns and pulling the driver out of the cabin.


Once the weather improved we made our way through the markets, across the river, up a dusty road and through an arch to the Museum of Maya Medicine. We were greeted by a lovely Mexican, who was happy to tell us about Herbalism but with regards to midwifery, which is a very important part of Mayan Medicine, he showed us through to the exhibition. Its quite spooky once you're through the curtain, the rooms are dimly lit and there are plenty of life-like wax works around the place, in real-life indigenous settings; at home, in the field, in labour. We watched a very informative video on the latter which was filmed in a local village and showed midwives helping women give birth using ancient Mayan methods including cleansing rituals and social seclusion in temazcals - a sweat type lodge. The birth involves prayers and ceremony that take place under the supervision of the midwife and the husband is actively involved throughout. The birth is calm, quick and very easy. In reality many women lose their babies through complications so modern medical practices are integrated in conjunction with indigenous methods and more young women are being trained in midwifery in the villages in Chiapas. The Museum has a wonderful medicinal herb garden and a replica of a temazcal. You can also visit the pharmacy and book an appointment to see a member of the state organisation for indigenous doctors, be diagnosed and buy natural remedies to help.


Beautiful Cristobal and is very photogenic and there are lots of tourists taking piccies pretty much wherever you go. If you take a collectivo and travel half an hour up the road to San Juan Chamula with your camera and take photos of this village, there is a big chance that you will be stoned if not shot. Which is exactly what happened to an American tourist a few years ago who didn't take heed of the massive banner overhead as you enter the village which basically asks, 'Please don't take photos, respect our culture.' The culture that this is referring to is that of the indigenous Chiapas Tzotzil speaking people who believe that when you take a photograph of a person, that person's soul is captured. The villages live by a Mayan calendar of festivals and the day we visited the town was celebrating with a week long fiesta which coincides with the date of the Mayan ritual concerning the five lost days of 'Weyeb' at the end of the 36 tun cycle. I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about yeah? Basically the villages' identity is an ancestral religion based largely on agriculture. This is THE place to come if you are interested in Mayan spirituality and culture. As we walked down the hill into town, past row upon row of beautiful weavings tended by Mayan women, a group of men dressed in turquoise cowboy hats, sheep skins as jackets belted at the waist, black trousers and boots, turned onto the street chasing one man brandishing long wooden sticks. The band then started up, a strange, extremely loud sound of guitars, accordions, pipes and horns. The men reappeared cheering, carrying the now unconscious man. This is just one of the rituals that occurs at this particular fiesta and we had no idea what was going on. Another group of young men then appeared round the corner with costumes a bit like jesters with ribboned hats complete with sunglasses and a bottle of posh each (toxic sugar cane and maize drink) performing a type of strange dance and playing instruments. Occasionally they would stop and dance their slow-motioned quirky stumble 'Moosh' dance on the spot while swigging their Posh. From what we could gather they were all out of their heads. The main square is full of stalls selling anything from fruit and vegetables to leather goods, dried fish hanging in rows, tamales (corn flour cakes, steamed and wrapped in maize leaves), drinks, shoes and clothes, but the main focus is the church. The Mexican white washed building, with its beautiful vivid blue and green painted flowers and geometrical designs around the door can be entered but you have to buy an entrance card at the tiny tourist office on the square otherwise you won't be let in.

Once you enter the church you enter another world, somewhere between Catholicism and ancient pre-Hispanic rituals with a bit of Shamanism thrown in for good measure. The villagers have greater faith in the power of local shamans who are the equivalent of priests and one such elder was in the middle of a trance like state as we entered. He looked suspiciously hung over to me but that wasn't surprising due to the number of Smirnoff bottles that were being passed around. Robed saints adorned with white lilies line the walls in wooden glass fronted booths and stand guard over the scene. The elder leads a procession from saint to saint, blessing each one and everyone just ignores the poor man who has passed out under a table. Great clouds of incense smoke billow from pots, candles of varying sizes cover every surface imaginable and fragrant pine needles blanket the floor. The villages pour in, family by family, kneeling, huddled together drinking vodka or fizzy drinks, (Coke and 7 UP seem to be the flavour of the day) to expel evil spirits via burping and stand small thin candles in rows of different colours on the floor; red, white, yellow, green, black, dependent on the individual and the diagnosis of treatment. While everyone mutters incantations, slowly rocking forwards and back, a small band plays melodic tunes on harps, guitars and flutes. I was feeling odd, emotional, moved or perhaps it was just the heady mitxure of scents and visual stimuli - where's a bottle of diet coke when you need one?
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1170366360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1170366360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1170366360/tpod.html Mon, 02 Jul 2007 23:41:42 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Utila and Roatan - The Bay Islands, Honduras

Up & down, uuuup and doooooown, hold it in. Hold it in! This wasn't quite the introduction I was expecting to the Caribbean seas! We were on a catamaran on our way to the island of Utlia. This was our second attempt as the trip the day before was cancelled due to rough seas. That night we were forced to stay in the coastal town La Ceiba. The best way to describe La Ceiba is "pikey." Perhaps a little harsh, as the local Honduran tourist guidebook describes it as a town with great "potential" (rip it down and start again 'potential' me thinks). Anyway, we stayed in a little grotty hostel which was near the beach, it was cheap and the room looked slightly better than the options in the town centre, with a stand up fan with propellers that looked liked they had been ripped off an aeroplane and when switched on you would be blown to the other side of the room. It would come to life and start vibrating its way around the room until it crashed into the bed. If it wasn't for the electric cable plugged into the wall, I am sure the possessed fan would have managed to chop us up. There were some interesting rules pinned to the door of our room too. Our favourites were 'Do not use the fans as dryers and switch off the fans when you leave the room, two rooms caught fire already.' No shit. 'Do not bring prostitutes (aids, messy rooms, stealing and very close with criminal activities) this is not a brothel.' And the last, 'Do not use drugs here, police informers everywhere.' Good advice all round we thought.

The next day we awoke early to get the first ferry to Utila praying for calmer seas. Everything went smoothly and we had our seats on the busy catamaran. As the boat left the dock the locals were making the sign of the cross and praying, something told me that this was going to be an adventure. Some people say its best to keep your mind on something else to avoid feeling seasick. Cath excelled at this by chatting up the handsome Dutch cyclist, who had made his way all the way from Brazil. I was awkwardly sitting in-between them watching the crew hand round sick bags and kitchen roll for the bits that got away. Well thanks to my Boots trusty travel calm pills, we arrived on dry land with no spills.

We were in Utila for one reason, to be in the Caribbean and to learn how to scuba dive (isn't that 2 reasons?) It is reportedly the cheapest place in the world to learn and get you PADI certificate whilst learning in crystal clear waters amongst the coral and beautiful coloured fish. We were very excited to be here. Diving here is the only reason tourists really come to Utila and there are plenty of dive centres to choose from with each centre sending out workers to get you to sign up as you step off the boat. We went to the 'Bay Islands College of Diving' as everyone we had met on the travelling circuit had only good things to say about them. We checked in, signed all the papers and Johan, who was to be our dive instructor showed us to our accommodation. We walked in on two Swedes virtually having sex on the sofa, Ahhhh, shared living, you just can't beat it!

Our first day at the college was theory day, averagely boring but crucial for diving and there was a lot to learn. There was also a medical form including a long list of ailments and past illnesses to tick or not to tick, to qualify for the next part, the diving. By the end of the day I had one question left, should I be diving if I had had a Pneumothorax (or popped lung for the rest of us) 7 years ago? A bit of medical research on the old Internet was in order. We found out that yes it could be dangerous and could lead to my death, or as some reports said 'Don't worry mate you'll be fine' but its best to have a CT scan and be signed off by a doctor. Now I was pretty sure they didn't have a CT scan on this little island let alone if they actually had one in Honduras so I wasn't sure if I should be gambling with my life. When we asked the friendly manager, the answer was quickly determined and although he had been drinking all afternoon, he became very sober and said that there was no way, under no circumstances that he would take the risk of letting me dive. With this news Cath took me to sulk over a beer and to watch the sunset but we both felt pretty low. However I trusted the friendly manager and the following description of what can happen when you suffer a second pop under water was a good enough reason why not to risk it for me: When a lung collapses while diving, the air in the chest cavity is at the ambient pressure of the dive depth. Upon ascending, the air in the chest cavity expands, and further compresses the lung and other organs like the heart (tension pneumothorax). This is a life-threatening situation and is one of the main reasons that a history of spontaneous pneumothorax is an absolute contra-indication to diving since most divers and dive boats are not prepared to provide first aid to a diver with pneumothorax. Based on the words of Ernest S Campbell, MD.

So, I very much enjoyed snorkeling instead, watching from above and Cath found another diving buddy although it was a good job it wasn't the Dutch cyclist! She went on to succeed in getting her Padi certification with highlights of holding an upside down jelly fish in her hand while hovering over the sandy ocean bottom, descending to 18 meters down a coral wall, watching a shoal of pipe fish go by and being face to face with rainbow fish oh, and being able to actually complete the dreaded 'mask task' finally and not freak out by the fact she was breathing under water!

Utila town consists of one main drag and everyone gets around on quad bikes, push bikes or golf buggies. The locals are a strange mixture, some having British routes which you can instantly see due to their very pale skin and freckles and some African and they all speak a bizarre type of Spanish, English and Garifunian which means you are never quite sure which language they are speaking since they interchange seamlessly mid-sentence. What everyone seems to enjoy on the island is American Superbowl. The dive center bar was showing the game and intrigued to see what all the fuss was about we went to watch. Not quite what a game on the TV should be about as you only see snippets of the match as the rest of the four hours are taken up with America's best adverts of the year??? Personally, I thought the best part of the game was Prince at half time. Afterwards it was time for Karaoke, Oasis, Frank Sinatra and an empty bar! Rock n Roll!


My 30th birthday was fast approaching, our first plan was to travel to Belize for a bit of birthday beach action, but due to time, logistics and budget, we got a flight to the neighboring island Roatan instead. Some folk tried to stop us going but as the island has the beaches Utila doesn't and the snorkeling is top draw, Cath booked us on the next plane out. It did seem a little extravagant getting a flight over however boats don't travel between the two islands and you'd have to return to the mainland and the whole trip would probably take another two days and I didn't quite fancy spending my birthday in the hotel room with the possessed fan. Utila's airport is interesting. After our taxi (a golf buggy) dropped us off, we headed for the main terminal and by the main terminal I mean the make shift bus shelter. The airstrip was at least tarmacked and our bags were checked in and tagged using different colour tags for different locations, so all very organized really and then the flying minibus came in and with a hop skip and a jump we were in Roatan.

Cath had found us a nice hostel to stay at, a little more expensive than Utila but well worth it with balconies and tropical gardens. We were in a duplex with a private room and shared the kitchen and shower with a couple of others, an Irish girl, a German girl and another crazy Dutchman, which was all very nice. We were expecting Roatan to be a little more hectic than Utila due to having an international airport and cruise ships docking in once a week, however at Half moon Bay it had more relaxed Caribbean ambience to the place and with a quick water taxi you were on a white palm fringed idyllic beach with beautiful turquoise waters and an easily accessible coral reef and amazing colourful fish - my favourite being the huge blue Parrot fish about 1m long!

Unfortunately the peace and tranquility is ruined once a week for two days by cruise ships which dock on the other side of the island and bus all the people over to the beautiful beaches. One day there was a cruise ship that had just come from Texas, some of the passengers didn't even know what country they were in, let alone what country they were going to next; "Shucks some place called Belize! Where ever that is! Hell I don't know! I came all the way from Texas, USA." That's just across the water mate! You might have thought that the crew on the ship would have provided some information on how endangered the coral is and might have advised their passengers not to stand on it! Thankfully they all left by about 3pm so we only had to cope with them for a couple of hours - God, I'm becoming a right traveling snob!

Well, so my 30th Birthday had arrived and it had also been a good six months since I last trimmed my beard. The beard had started to collect food and it hurt sometimes when I chewed on it accidentally when eating. I was getting older I thought and so I believed it was time to start looking younger. You can see the beard trimming experience in our photos however as it was my birthday I left a tash for a more distinguished appearance, slicked back with the crazy Dutchman's hair gel.
Catherine took me out for steak and beers and even arranged a cake and balloons in the restaurant for me, if my tash didn't make me stand out then the balloons definitely did! After dinner we went and found a bar meeting up with some new found friends for a couple more drinks or was it a few more than just a couple? Hmmm, it must be the age, my memory is starting to go.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1172008080/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1172008080/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1172008080/tpod.html Mon, 02 Jul 2007 23:41:26 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Antigua, Guatemala

After another bus ride all the way from Tegiguculpa via Guatamala City, where we had to change buses for the third time, we headed out on the road again and joined THE WORST TRAFFIC JAM EVER! which lasted for 4 hours driving at 10kph. None of us had any water which was lucky as there was nowhere, except for the roadside to relieve ourseleves. I ended up passing out on the floor of the bus while Nick took up 4 seats and the other passengers fell in and out of consciousness to the rhythm of Guatemalan rock. We arrived in Antigua late at night. Even in the dark the town is stunning. Light from intricately crafted lamp posts bounces off cobbled streets and picks up the warm yellow and pink hues of the colonial buildings and women in traditional mayan clothes with their plaited hair piled high on their heads sell crafts on the street. While we were taking it all in and getting abit carried away with it, the couple and the panicked lady who travelled on the bus were already busying themselves with their rucksacks and were trying to ask a local for directions to a hostel. Tired and not bothered to find one ourselves, Nick helped them out with directions and we led them to the inn, which was full. We all trapsed across the road to find rooms there instead. Nick and I got the last double much to the anger of the others. Oooops. In the morning we returned across the road as it was much cheaper. Our room was basically a shed on the roof but was gorgeous with plants outside the door, a beautifully weaved bedspread and views across rooftops to one of Antigua's volcanoes. As we left the hostel we bumped into the couple from the previous night who wanted a room however we'd taken the last one again. Oooops.

Antigua is nestled between three dramatic volcanoes: Agua, Acatenango and the constantly smoking Fuego which still erupts. There were numerous catastrophic eruptions back in the C17 where many buidlings were destroyed and the town was evacuated. Today the city is full of churches, monastries and religious ruins mostly built by the numerous monastic orders who came to live here when Antigua was an important Spanish colony and which provided enough places for the inhabitants of Antigua to pray to God to save their lives and spare them from another eruption. Today Antigua has an international feel due to being a tourist hub and a centre for 50 language schools but the town still retains a laid back feel. It is also a mecca for anyone who wants to climb an active volcano but had we not had enough of all this nonsence in Costa Rica and Nicaragua?? Well apparentley we had not and Nick was adamant that we should climb the one which they call Fire. Suddenly the thought of visiting more churches and religious buildings sounded very appealing. However that afternoon we bumped into some friends we'd met in Honduras who also wanted to climb the volcano and because, as i am sure you all know, i hate to be left out of things, I put me name down on the list aswell. Well it was a bargain at a fiver, a fair price I concluded particularly with the risks involved - the mighty Fuego had only erupted nine days previously. That evening, after cooking another fascinating dish of delcious packet soup or was it the travellers favourite - tuna pasta, we all went out for drinks - a fine idea if we were to climb a volcano in the boiling hot sun the next day we all felt. And so at about 2am we were the last ones to be thrown out of the kasbar and we all stumbled back to our hostels which were next door to eachother. There was some commotion at our door which was guarded by a lovely if rather conservative man who wouldn't let Nick in as he said he did not recognise him and mumbled something in spanish to me along the lines of 'I'm sorry but we're not that kind of establishment madam'.

Bright and early at 11am we all surfaced and borded the combi for the volcano. We were the first on. For the next hour and a half the driver drove us around Antigua over all the cobbled stones picking up various other tourists all bound for Fuego. This wasn't doing anything for my hangover plus everyone who got on the bus seemed to have all had a restful night and were up for bubbly, interesting chat; where have you been travelling? What has been your favourite place? What did you do in London before you went travelling? Are you Ok cos you're looking a little pale? The drive to the volcano took about 4 hours and the village on the slopes of Fuego was very small, very poor and the people were lovely, especially the children. The children make some money by selling walking sticks. We bought one each, by doing the Inca Trail we knew they were an important fashion accessory for the avid hiker, plus a torch but I had somehow lost the enthusiasm to climb Fuego - good job Nick had double the amount for both of us then. Anyway our guide was very informative and told us alot about the area on our ascent including the big thermal power station which now provides electricity to the village. We walked for what seemed like 2 hours and admittedly the gradient was not as severe as on Ometepe, until we reached the lava fields which, surprisingly, were only 10 months old and still warm. How exciting. We still had another half an hours walk to the lava flow, i wondered how hot it would get up there. As we walked across the lava fields up the volcano there was a stong smell of something. Saunas. Hot burning coals and just at that moment, hot air blasted out of some of the 10 month old lava and i could see the glowing embers below the surface. Just keep with the group, keep with the group and follow the white markings which were barely visible by now anyway! We continued up the fields to meet about a hundred other tourists all milling around the lava flows and trapsing over very thin ground. 'Can we go back now please?' No one was listening to me. There was a thunderous noise below us and our guide enthusiastically told us not to worry as it was only the earth expoding miles below us. Oh, is that all? Don't know why I'm panicking. Nick felt the need to go right up to large pieces of lava which were breaking off and rolling into the flow, he even shot a little video of it, fascinating! I think he felt like a scientist filming a documentary. I felt very small and insignificant against nature and wanted to go home, it was getting cold and it was getting dark, plus i had a hangover, did i mention that? How would we be able to see the white markings and find our way across the lava fields now? Nick pointed out we had bought a torch, so helpful, but even our guide was starting to get alittle agitated and started beckoning us back. On the descent I felt glad to have seen something as amazing as an active volcano but i also wished i could stop tripping up over all the tree roots.

I really liked Antigua. It is a beautiful place, tranquil, bathed in warm colours and being a UNCESCO world hertiage site has also received funds to clean up its streets. The main square, the heart of the town, is where everyone comes to have a drink or an icecream, flirt, chat folk up or have a snooze on a park bench under the cool shade of the trees or by the pretty fountain. People are so so friendly here, good humoured and there is not the usual hard sell that we have experienced in other places even though people are just as poor. The craft market is vast and you can buy some really beautiful things. I am not a natural bargainer at heart but even I thought 70 quid for a hammock was alittle steep. I was really trying to get the guy down little by little, feeling guilty about it but doing alright then Nick came round the corner and said another chap would do it at a third of the price and that seemed to do the trick and we bought a beautiful stripey hammock for my friend Willow who we were going to visit in San Francisco. Just near the craft market is the local fruit and vegetable market which is tradtionally situated next to the bus terminal. Aswell as the array of fresh fruits and veggies, you can get a variety of very cheap snacks here from fried chicken to Pepián, a filling thick meat and vegetable stew and a common dish in the area of Antigua and lots of donuts which look a little unappetizing covered in flies to tell the truth but Guatemalians have very sweet teeth. The bus terminal is an interesting place to hang out and is void of your run of the mill buses and full of colourful chicken buses similar to those in Panama in the way they are each individually decorated but instead of being given a name they have their destination elaborately designed in the top of the front window - although the one in our photo says 'California' and I'm not sure it was going that far. There is a very well stocked supermarket in Antigua aswell for all your grocery needs and it was very nice to be able to buy some shampoo and conditioner atlast instead of having to use shower gel. The shelves in this place were incredible and resemble Andreas Gursky's Supermarket photograph, if anyone knows that photo, in their vivid colours and precise placing on each shelf and the sheer amount of products was quite surprising as we hadn't seen consumer culture on this scale for quite some time. Could it be because we were getting closer to America or was it all because of the foreigners who make Antigua their home and demand this level of consumerism?
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1169760900/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1169760900/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1169760900/tpod.html Mon, 02 Jul 2007 23:40:55 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Granada, Nicaragua

Granada is a UNESCO world heritage site and a beautiful town, on the edge of Lago Nicaragua. Thanks to funding from the organization, many of the old buildings have been painted, cathedrals refurbished and historic districts renovated. There are so many lovely old colonial buildings here and a church on nearly every corner. We spent many an hour strolling around the cobbled streets and market places chatting to folk. The tyrant William Walker, from Tennessee occupied the city in the C18 and then set fire to it when he departed. No one really likes him much here. Or in Honduras, where they executed him.

Nicaragua's GNP is slightly below Bolivia but foreign investment is being accepted with most property being bought by Americans. Although Nicaraguans are realising the potential their country has for tourism a lot of the tour operators, hotels and hostels are still unfortunately owned by foreigners, the one we stayed at included. However it did have a pool was nice as it was so unbelievably hot and sweaty.

We visited an art centre that had no art, except a huge papermache form with numerous breasts dotted over its torso. We tasted some typico cuisine in the stunning main square which is the hub for anyone and everyone looking for a snack or just to watch the world go by and then we bumped into the lovely American lady and her English husband we had met on the island who insisted we come round for dinner at the house they were looking after. When we got there, mucho rum had been consumed so it was off to the local for some pollo con gallo pinto - chicken, beans and rice, a Latin American staple that lots of people also have for breakfast with white cheese. Yummy. We also tried the local brew, Toña that Nick says is a more superior beer than that of Panama or Costa Rica and has a rather nice label aswell for all you packaging nerds out there.

I didn't, sadly, feel too well in Granada, due to a suspicious rash that took over my whole face, neck and lower limbs. The only thing that I could find at the local pharmacy was Calomine lotion which when applied to skin took on a mauve hue and would stubbornly not absorb. I got a few looks I can tell you. However apart from that, I had had only one bout of the world's worst diarrhea in Brazil so I shouldn't really complain. Nick had also been having problems. He was finding it hard to swallow, which I think was due to heartburn and a particularly spicy meal we had. So we went to the pharmacy to get him something as well. By now we were on first terms with the friendly pharmacist who recommended some rather large white pills resembling something you might put in your other end - even harder to swallow.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1165542360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1165542360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/cathandnick/lady_and_tramp/1165542360/tpod.html Tue, 22 May 2007 02:54:12 -0400 Michael Palin, Phileas Fogg, Alan Whicker, pluuurgh, who needs them when you can read our glitzy blurb, if we get round to writing anything that is.

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Baeza, Ecuador

We found ourselves travelling from Quito to Las Palmas on a cold and rainy Thursday not quite knowing what we were in for. Somehow we had agreed to look after a hostel and all its various pets including 3 dogs, 3 llamas (one pregnant and soon to be in labour), 3 geese, 8 cats, countless chickens and chicks and god knows how many bats for a week. Now I am under the belief that bats are not strictly proper pets and only live in the rafters of buildings, dive at you when you enter the room and poo everywhere mostly at night and always in your hair, still it was a cunning plan of the owners Ali and Meg not to put us off. We would be staying at the Magic Roundabout in Las Palmas, a small community made up of a few families but mostly mad, extremely viscious dogs. Its in the middle of nowhere in the cloud forest where bears, tigres (big long jungle cats) and even vampire bats reside and it was going to have to be a pretty damn magic place for nothing to go wrong and for me not to freak out!! Luckily Ali and Meg didnt trust us much and so got a couple of lads studying ecotourism in from the nearby town who knew how to do things properly and weren`t scared of things like the jungle, the dark and mammoth sized moths. Feeling alittle bit more relaxed we slipped into our week at the Roundabout very easily. Cards on the balcony, beers, game of pool, a real live washing machine, walks to the waterfall, scimming stones on the river, and a DVD to finish it all off? Why not then. We had to do our own food shopping in Baeza the nearby town and our first grocery trip there was interesting. Some folk were friendly, some were down right rude and obviously hated tourists but most just laughed at us. Was it our Spanish, did Nick still have that tattoo on his forehead or was it my flowery cagoule from Millets? Well we managed to buy lots of food but nothing we could actually make a meal out of. Brilliant.

Through the lovely, English, dreaded, eco-warrior couple Ali and Meg at the Magic Roundabout, (www.magicroundabout.info) we had arranged to stay with a family for 3 weeks until New Year. As a community, Las Palmas is now thinking of ways to attract more eco-tourists and visitors to the Quijos region as it is of direct consequence that the area will become protected, respected and visited and so positively impacting on the local people in return and earning them more money than they get from the evil exploitative Nestle. One of their ideas has been to set up a `home stay programme` with neighbouring families. Travellers have the opportunity to live and experience daily family life in the countryside, be part of a well established community, join in with traditional farming, artesania, gardening and agricultural techniques, cook Ecuadorian food and practice their Spanish. We forgot to read the part that asked for a `good level of communicative spanish necessary`and set off early Monday morning to the Molina family's finca. Ali and Meg had thought of sending us to another family but the father apparently drunk alot and tended to be alittle letchy. Our first task was milking. Milking begins at 6am and is quite possibly one of the most difficult things to master at that time in the morning by hand. Well Estalin showed us how to do it, grasping those teets in his muscly, bronzed hands and managing to milk one cow in 5 minutes with 4 teets at once. Quite impressive but then he had been doing it for some 35 years. Our attempt was not surprisingly, pathetic, judging by Estalins reaction and the meagre amount of milk we had collected in one hour in the blue bucket. When I was asked to go and get some water from the stream I couldnt even manage this. Apparentely Estalin had said to go to the second stream with fresh water but due to not reading the `good level of communicative Spanish required` bit I went for the first stream with muddy water and what looked like some dead animal floating down it. Poor Estalin, his work was really going to be cut out.

Although the Molinas have a finca in Las Palmas, their house is in the nearby town Baeza. There is a church, a school, a few bars with some dodgy characters, a couple of tiny supermarkets which sell mostly huge bags of sweets, fizzy drinks, pasta, hair gel and cleaning products (one with the most terrifying meat chopping rooms I have ever seen covered in blood from floor to ceiling) a panderia, a shop which sells anything from fake perfume and shoes all in the same size to plastic boxes and glitter pens, an experimental farm with adorably scary goats, a football pitch, there are lots of men walking around carrying machetes and alot of very poor people with lots of very expensive cars all bought on credit. We were extremely lucky to stay with such a warm and friendly family who very much liked to take the piss out of our Spanish. Estalin (although his name gets shortened to Stalin, which I like alot) is a pillar of the local community and in the New Year would be starting his job as the equivalent of local MP for the region. His wife Raquel is wonderful and basically holds the farm, the house and the family together with the help from Mary a law student at Quito University, Boris (also, love the name!) a gentle and sensitive 15 yr old and the adorable Coralia, I'm not sure I have met a more clumsy 12 yr old. Without going into the family dynamics too much what Nick and I noticed straight away was how the family and local community pull together, something which is probably missing back home these days, and which is best seen at 'Mingas'. These are not occasions where everyone makes those less fortunate in the looks department feel better about themselves but where if something is needed done, from building a house or in our case building a football pitch, then all the families get together to get it done, the men mostly doing all the labour and the women cooking a huge free meal for lunch. Our first experience of a minga was knackering and involved breaking up rocky ground and lifting boulders for 9 hrs with the help of peach wine which is revolting. I'm not too sure what everyone thought of Nick and I but they seemed to find the fact that we found the work very tiring extremely funny. Nick became a regular at the local mingas while I stayed at the farm with the women making lunch. On one particularly rainy day Nick didnt come home, nor did Stalin. Apparently due to heavy rainfall someone decided to crack open the rum and everyone drunk it neat for about 6 hours straight. There's nothing quite like male bonding is there. So, while I was getting dressed after my weekly shower the first I heard of Nicks return was Coralia and Boris rushing into the room shouting 'Nick es barracho! Nick es barracho!' And much to granny's disaproval Nick was sick on the lawn while Raquel helped him to the house. He didnt surface for the next 18 hours. Ali from the Magic Roundabout got lost in a ditch but Stalin, being the macho hombre and a pillar of the community had to do one better and whilst drink-driving his motorcycle home got stopped by the police without his papers and was put in prison for the night. The house that night was full of weeping women and I spent many hours making cups of coca tea. Boris was quite happy about his Dad being behind bars and said it would teach him a lesson. How mature Boris.

Most days we worked on the farm and this involved milking, feeding/killing the pig and chickens, feeding the rabbits, weeding the veggie plot, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes (by hand for hours by rubbing them on a stone surface) and general bits and bobs. The family have an amazing small Oyster mushroom business which is bringing them in more money as they send them into Quito to one of the big backpacker hostels restaurants. However a huge box of the most beautiful organic mushrooms is still only the equivalent of 30p! They also have an amazing fruit and vegetable garden which included just for starters the following; 4 different types of lettuce, cabbage, carrots, green beans, artichokes, tomatoes, beetroot, onions, potatoes, spinach, figs, raspberries, blackberries, limes and passion fruit. They were totally self sufficient with regards to vegetables and cooked the most amazing meals. One of our first meals was breakfast after milking and consisted of trout (from the family up the road) fresh lettuce, boiled maize, egg, rice and a trusty plantain. Plantain is a South American staple and we know how to cook it in at least 48 different ways now but mostly we had it as fried patties, sliced lengthways, sliced across, whole in soup, half in soup, whole on side of plate, mashed, with breakfast, with lunch, with dinner. Their diet was quite bland in general so when Nick and I offered to cook a whole meal for them it didnt quite go down as thought. The kids wanted pizza, Raquel insisted on lasagne and an English desert. Although never having had lasagne, she was adamant that everyone would like it. Lasagne it was then. Trying to find the ingredients to make it though was near impossible and trying to get minced beef at the supermarket was an experience and involved getting out a rusty mincer from the 1930's but we made what we thought was a pretty tasty dish. Unfortunately the family didnt think so and it was just so awful to see them push it round their plates and not even want to taste apple and blackberry crumble - I guess our western palettes can just take richer food. Raquel had amazingly got in in a turkey for Christmas lunch however the Ecuardorian way of cooking is slightly different and we had it chopped up into tiny bits in a lime marinade boiled, fried and reheated twice. Delicious. The rest of Christmas Day was pretty normal though with Dad getting competitive in the afternoon games, Mum falling asleep on the sofa and the kids watching tele.

Christmas in Ecuador however is totally void of the commercial nonsense that you find in the west with the emphasis being much more on the fact that it is religious holiday. Everyone makes a special effort with their nativity scene and no one spends ridiculous amounts on presents because no one has any money and the only presents we did see were those given to school kids by the local oil comapanies to spread a little joy while they continue to pollute water supplies and increase cancer cases in the region. We did visit church with Raquel, Boris, Mary and Coralia and it was full of Catholic hell, fire and brimstone, repent your sins or die. The priest himself was something of a local celebrity and shouted his sermon into the congregation. Although I couldnt understand everthing he said, I started to feel very guilty myself and wondered where the confession box was. Nick was enjoying himself though, with lots of people queing to shake his hand and wish him well, by the state of his beard I think they thought Jesus has made a personal visit to Baeza. At least I could join in with the hymns which has been composed to Simon and Garfunkels 'Bridge over Troubled water' and Bob Dylans 'How many roads' I knew the words to those.

Our last day was the big New Years Eve party in Las Palmas. New Year is much more celebrated than Christmas and sees big street parties in Quito and everyone wears fancy dress and dons scary lifelike masks. For the Las Palmas community, it is a special time of new beginnings where they look back on the year but also to the future and what it will hold for them and what they will need to do to prosper. A speech was made by Stalin and Nick and I were made to do our own speech thankfully translated sentence by sentence by Meg and then the effigies which people had made were judged and burnt on the fire. The dolls symbolise things that need to be changed - my favourite was the local radio presenter with the annoying voice. The day of partying begins with a inner-tubing race down the river which was great fun and Nick came 4th out of 20 which everyone agreed was very good for a beginner. While the women prepared the evenings feast and the men set up awnings, the dancefloor and a sound system on the football pitch (which was only half-finished due to the rum incident), Nick and I helped Meg with her mammouth treasure hunt around the village. Nick was one of the clues hiding in a tree and I had to stand, after quite abit of fuss, petrified, opposite the house with 8 viscious dogs ( I found a big stick with spikes on it which made me feel abit better). The meal was amazing and consisted of trout steamed in plantain leaves, roast chicken, soups, salads, potatoes, rice and in the background could be heard forgotten classic 80's hits like 'One night in Bangkok' by Murray Head. Awesome. I got up to dance to Madonnas 'Like a Virgin' but I dont think anyone was impressed. Then it was time for all the kiddies games which Nicholas and I had organised and which thankfully went down well due to a few old favourites; Egg and Spoon race, pass the balloon, sack races, apple bobbing and musical chairs. Some of the adults got slightly over-competitive with a few of the larger ladies breaking four of the plastic chairs during musical chairs while saving seats for their kids. However the highlight had to be Nick stacking it, twice, in the mens sack race. After some odd Ecuadorian dancing (a faster paced version of the dancing you do as a kid at a party when you dont know what to do so you step from side to side) everyone huddled round the fire wishing eachother a Feliz Anyo and thanking Nick and I for coming to live in their community and sharing in their lives.
It was a very humbling experience and when we said goodbye to the family the next morning it all got abit emotional. Raquel started the tears off and we pretty much all followed, Nick was particularly moved although he said that he had an insect from the shower in his eye.
After our 4 hour bus journey back to Quito, which we spent standing, which wasnt that bad actually, what was hard to ignore though was the amount of people being sick out the windows after the New Years merriment, even a small child joined in and threw up all over his mother. It was the next day back in Quito that the itching started and we discovered we had caught fleas from one of the dogs on the farm.
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