TravelStream™ news feed for member hannah.thompson on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/hannah.thompson en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sun, 22 Jun 2008 15:24:41 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1198264080/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1198264080/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1198264080/tpod.html Sun, 22 Jun 2008 15:24:41 -0400 Pura vida

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Santa Ana, Costa Rica

I have created a website to help speakers of different languages in Central America find language exchange partners.

There is a huge demand for Ticos to speak English to get on in their careers, while there are ever-growing numbers of gringos and Europeans moving here, travelling here and wanting practising their espanol. This is fun and free way to improve language skills and make new friends...

See the site at www.intercambiocentralamerica.com
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1212965760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1212965760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1212965760/tpod.html Wed, 11 Jun 2008 16:41:56 -0400 Pura vida

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San Jose, Costa Rica, Costa Rica

Lots to catch up on. Having travel companions didn't leave much time for lengthy internetting until now, so this might be a biggy.

JJ and Farah joined us from London on 20 May. We met them at Managua airport, Nicaragua, and introduced them to Pepita. I think they thought we were kidding. "Yeah right, where's the real car?" I thought Chris might have mentioned to them that they'd be spending their three week safari bumping, sliding and jolting around on plastic bench seats without belts in the back of a jeep. It's an adventure, right?

We brought them straight to Granada, the colonial town in southern Nicaragua that we had visited on our first leg. Reckoned capital cities usually best avoided in this part of the world, and that a couple of architects could get some mileage out of the attractive, colourful buildings in the town. Spent a day wandering the streets, took in a museum, and passed several tense hours watching Chelsea lose to Man United in the Champions league final much to poor JJ's despair. Morale not buoyed by the average Mexican fare we consumed afterwards. Following pizza, rice and beans and disappointing coffee, J and Farah were at this point getting initial suspicions that Central America is not a culinary destination. Hmm, that could be something else we didn't mention. Oh, and the rain? That would be another.

The night's entertainment took us to El Club, a stylish bar, for a first taste of Flor de Cana, Nicaragua's celebrated rum, and moving on to Cafe Nuit for cocktails and the briefest of live music performances.

On Thursday, we visited the town of Masaya, famous for it's artesania markets. (And, boy, does JJ love a market!) Masaya is famous for large and beautifully woven handmade hammocks. One whole sector of the town is just house after house of family hammock makers. We were tempted, of course, but just this once we considered the practicalities and denied ourselves.

We drove on to another part of the town that the guide book recomended as a home of craftmakers, but couldn't find any. Surprisingly, Chris yelling "Donde esta las artesanias?" (Where are the handicrafts?) to passers-by yielded little response except for expressions conveying a weariness with "stupid foreigners".

We headed up to the much lauded Catarina Mirador to get a view of Laguna Apoyo and have lunch. Stunning views, shame about the atmosphere. Desperate restaurant proprietors hounded us from all angles and once we'd chosen a table we were beseiged by guitar trios and vendors of tourist trinkets. I suffered horrible fish "nuggets" and soggy chips, but I think the other's had reasonable meat. Nicaragua still not setting the tastebuds alight, and JJ loves his food even more than he loves a market.

Early the following day, Farah's 30th birthday, we caught a ferry to Ometepe, an island in Lake Nicaragua (Lago Cocibolca) that is formed of two volcanoes, one of which is still active. Much of the island is covered in primary forest and the coastal populations live by farming and fishing. We found a wonderful place to stay, Tresoro de Piratas, on the south side of Volcan Concepcion. The cabins were right on the sandy lake shore, with hammocks, kayaks, plenty of shade trees and owners that went out of their way to do anything we asked, even cook our own food in the restaurant kitchen! Which is what we did that evening for Farah's birthday meal, accompanied by copious amounts of Flor de Cana, several games of cards, and a plague of huge attacking cicada-type insects that kept trying to commit suicide on our candles.

In the morning we took the kayaks out across the lake to another smaller island, and swam in the delicious clear water. Later on I gave JJ (and a half-hearted Chris) a yoga lesson by the side of the lake. All so tranquil. That day, at least, it was sunny and warm. And, result, the home-cooked food back at the cabins was impressive and welcome - tasty whole fried fish and yummy crispy patacones (fried plantains).

After all that relaxing we headed to a farm hostel in Belgue on the north coast of Volcan Maderas (the non-active one, at 1394m) for the night, before hiking up to the summit the next day. We started early, full of rice, beans and enthusiasm. About 10 minutes of steep climbing later we were all dripping wet with sweat and panting furiously. The humidity was intense and the ascent pretty relentless. On it continued, seldom flattening out, but we took plenty of rest breaks and concentrated thoughts on the views, the refreshing crater lake and the sandwiches we had in our packs. And tried not to think about coming back down. With swimwear packed and something of a sweat on, imagine our dismay when we found not a lake at the summit but little more than a muddy swamp, not in the least accommodating for tired smelly hikers. Still, we had done the hard bit, hurrah, and we had our sandwiches to reinvigorate us for the second leg. Or maybe not. Eagerly opening our package prepared for us by the hostel as found one horrible unappetising concoction of tasteless white bread and unidentifiable fillings. Boo.

The descent was slow, slippery (all of us slid and fell at least once) and torture on the knees. JJ and I in partcular hobbled most of the way down, feeling our age in our creaky joints. But the skies were clearer so we enjoyed great views across to the other volcano. Good sense of accomplishment to get to the bottom and the best tasting cold beer I've ever had.

We spent the next morning driving around the island in the drizzle searching for the stone carvings, or petroglyphs, that the island is famous for. We paid a dollar to one woman to trudge through her mucky cow field in torrential rain to see some rocks half buried by weeds with a few just about discernible pictures of spiders and monkeys on them. They were very old (over 1,000 years in fact) but we were very wet and very cold so perhaps weren't quite as impressed as we ought to have been. Sightseeing done with, back at the Piratas cabins we got straight into lunch and didn't move from the restaurant for over five hours. Five hours of ordering food, drinking rum and playing cards.

From Ometepe we went to San Juan del Sur, the beach destination of Nicaragua. The town itself sits on an attractive horse-shoe bay, but the bay is full of boats and quite built up. We spent a cloudy day doing chores - internet, shopping, laundry, breakfast and lunch. Then we hired a couple of body boards and set off to the more isolated, attractive beaches to the north. We came upon a great self-catered house in a settlement in the forest near one of the best beaches. Our own kitchen, all mod cons. Shame about the rain. But J cooked us dinner, we had a bottle of wine and hoped for sunshine tomorrow.

Ah, but Mother Nature had other ideas didn't she. It thundered down all night and we awoke to floods all around and the news that Hurricane Alma was a-brewing and heading our way. Apparently, we were told, the roads were already impassable. Our first instinct was to get provisions and ride it out, but then the skies cleared for a bit and we deliberated for hours about wasted days and getting stranded. Finally, we made the decision to run away to Costa Rica that night. Our trip to the beach ruined. Heck, I didn't even SEE the beach! How rubbish!

Still, our spirits remained positive as we got to the border at about 7pm. Pepita obviously realised she was back on home turf and reverted to form by not starting just as we want to pull out of the Costa Rica border post. A mexican dude jump started us and we drove to the Tico town of Liberia, arriving just before 10 pm. In a moment of insanity we fell desperately into a Pizza Hut. Fortunately, good sense prevailed even before we read the menu and the effort to find somewhere a little less crap up the road paid off.

On Friday we made it to the beautiful, rolling hills and lush green rainforest region of Monteverde, Costa Rica, where Chris and I had visited in January. We found another self-catered house, bought loads of good food and wine and settled in for three nights. At last, no driving and chill out time. JJ and Farah did the zipline canopy tour that we did last time (whizzing above the tree canopy suspended from a steel cable - very thrilling!) while Chris and I drank tea and read books. After dark we went on an animal-spotting walk through the rainforest, but it seemed the animals weren't up for it so all we saw were a few frogs and big-ish spiders. Fun tramping through the forest by torchlight though. The third day we had a hike and a picnic (a Thermos and Tupperware kind of picnic no less) in the Santa Elena rainforest reserve where the tantalizing song of the quetzales followed us everywhere but always eluded our gaze. Saw a tarantula too.

Nearly there. Honest. On Monday 2 June, we returned to San Jose and to our home for the next three weeks - Mi Casa Hostel near La Sabana park. Good place - we have a garden, a terrace and a big room, and little tortoises ambling around the garden. Monday night we took J and Farah to a restaurant near our old home of Santa Ana, followed by a "jam session" at the new jazz club in Escazu. Cool venue. I felt strangely proud of good old San Jose and appreciated anew the good things that I'd forgotten the big old city has to offer. (Give me three weeks.)

Tuesday morning, J and Farah caught an early flight to Tortuguero on the Caribbean coast where we hoped their animal-spotting and sun-worshipping opportunities would improve, Chris got up for work and I made a start on promoting my website.

They got back Thursday and, hurrah, they had had a successful, sunny, animal-filled, well-fed trip to the beach! I spent Thursday with them touring the delights of San Jose - two more markets (the souvenir shopping really having taken off for both of them by this point), the gorgeous national theatre, the life-sized cow sculptures lining the main shopping street, and, most importantly, the iced cappuccinos from Pops. The best. For their final evening we went to Tiquicia for typical Tico food, fine-dining style, and amazing night city skylines.

Then, they left. Chris and I are here until 26 June. We're currently sheltering from the familiar daily thunderstorm. Yesterday we were back at the Multiplaza, Automercado and all the usual places doing chores and it felt like we were home. Like we never left. Costa Rica really is a wonderful country. Sad to leave, but excited about the next stage.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1210786260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1210786260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1210786260/tpod.html Sat, 17 May 2008 15:08:22 -0400 Pura vida

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Gracias, Gracias, Honduras

Guatemala turned out to something of a flying visit as we just didn´t leave enough time. Shame, since it´s a fabulously friendly and colourful country. There´s something special about Guatemala, and it felt like a privelege to travel to a country with such tradition, identity and magic. It´s truly latin american with it´s own vibrant culture and personality. I keep making comparisons, but when much of the countries we´ve visited (parts of CR particularly) are leaning so heavily towards all things American, Guatemala offers an enriching, authentic experience. From what we saw of it anyway. Women everywhere are dressed in the intricately woven and embroidered fabrics they have worn for centuries. Men, women and children carry staggeringly heavy loads wrapped in bright cloth, balanced, somehow, comfortably on their heads. Everyone has a bright smile and a "hola".

We spent a few days in Antigua, then went to stay in the village of San Marcos on Lago Atitlan. It is a beautiful lake, as beautiful as claimed, flanked by three volcanoes, but with a fair amount of development creeping in on its banks. We planned two nights but spent five. We met some good people - a few Irish, an interesting, artistic couple from Montreal, and a IT guy from Texas who ended up being really useful to know for advice on our website (and who has already managed to get us first place in Google for "Intercambio Central America"). We spent most evenings with them, eating in the same local restaurant and listening to a visiting Argentinian musician play tango tunes on his guitar. Then we´d sit in the garden chatting and sharing wine and taking "taki" beer. Days were spent hiking around the lake, going to yoga classes, reading, or kayaking on the lake. Spent a day in Chichicastenango, a town famous for its market. Hell of a market. Huge, bustling, sprawling and piled high, overwhelmingly so, with colourful and cheap textiles, clothes, and crafts.

Couldn´t describe it as a safe country, by a long stretch. We left the car at a police station in Copan Ruinas, Honduras, by the border, and travelled into Guatemala by bus just to make sure we had a plan B. Even in tranquil, hippyville San Marcos someone we met had been mugged on a dark path. Most people experience no trouble, but everyone knows someone who had something happen to them. Very sad, but a very poor, corrupt country. Lots of guns, but we´re well used to guns, big guns, everywhere now. It´ll be strange to walk into a bank, or even a regular shop, in the UK without saying "Buenas" to a guard carrying an enormous pump action shot gun.

After our holiday within a holiday to the lake, we returned via Panajachel, to Antigua for one night before getting a 4am bus to Copan. Collected the car and drove straight to Gracias in Honduras. Boo. Expected more from this town, but it´s just hot, dusty and a bit depressing. Exhausted though so persuaded Chris to spend two nights just to chill out after two days on the road.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1211047440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1211047440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1211047440/tpod.html Sat, 17 May 2008 14:19:26 -0400 Pura vida

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Esteli, Nicaragua, Nicaragua

We´re here again. Staring to feel like home. An accident really, but after leaving Gracias and spending a night in the equally unexciting town of Comayagua we drove straight to Nicaragua. Seven hours including the (again problem-free) border crossing. Stopped by police again on route. Tried to get us for not having a fire extinguisher in the car. Chris just told him we didn´t need it and seems he couldn´t be bothered to argue.

So, the obvious place to stop was Esteli. Checked into the same hostel, Luna, owned by the British woman we met before and decided to stay two nights to get Pepita´s rattles and other bits done as it´s 10% of the cost here than in Costa. Feeling a bit annoyed as we´ve run out of real money, though feel sure we have had a couple of withdrawals duplicated as we´ve been writing everything down and thought we had more left. Either way, it´s credit cards until we get back to Costa to check it out. Was feeling miserable enough about this, as well as feeling pretty achey in head and throat and generally (probably from long, hot dusty drives), when yesterday a woman with a huge rock on her finger swung her arm into mine, smashing the face of my watch - my precious watch that Chris spent two days in Brighton shopping for. REALLY fed up after that, only mildly cheered up by chocolate ice cream.

But I can´t really complain... off to the beach tomorrow to await the arrival of JJ and Farah for the last two weeks of the trip!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1209851220/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1209851220/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1209851220/tpod.html Tue, 06 May 2008 19:28:45 -0400 Pura vida

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Copan, Honduras

When we arrived in Honduras we thought we would scoot through the country leaving as much time as possible for Guatemala, which is what the majority of travellers to Honduras seem to do. But then we started discovering that this country had a lot more to offer. Specifically, we read about the north west region, La Moskitia, described as the Amazon of the northern hemisphere, where a network of rivers wind through a massive area of primary rainforest, an unexpoited, untouristed region without roads, electricity or running water; a place sparsely populated by Miskito and Pech peoples living in timber and thatch houses, and for whom life hasn´t changed much for thousands of years. Tourism is a relatively rare and new phenomeon in the region. Only a very few people head to the area every day, so we figured this would be something special. And it was amazing. Hard travelling but well worth it. Rewarding, real travelling stuff.

People often go to the Mosquito coast on organised tours, but we wanted to do it on our own. Save money, do it our own pace, have more of an adventure etc. We started early on Monday, 21 April to get a bus to Iriona. We waited and waited for four hours until a chicken bus arrived and we piled on, standing room only. (Chicken buses are old yellow school buses that the US sends to Central America to end their days. There are hundreds... thousands of them all over Central America... and poss South America too?)

The journey was slow, hot and incredibly dusty. After a few hours we broke down but mercifully by the side of a clean river where I was grateful to rinse off the thick dust that was glued to my sticky suncreamy skin. The driver did something with a rope and we continued our slow, trudging way. Six and a half hours later we reached a town near Iriona, too late to continue our journey by boat as planned so we checked into Don Tinos for $4 a room including an ensuite tap. The next morning we walked half an hour in the rising heat to Iriona to find a boat to Belen. After various negotiations we arranged a guy to take us. Fuel is double the price in La Moskitia compared with the rest of Honduras and since travel is all by boat prices are fixed irrespective of the number of travellers, so we were glad to have recruited Tom and Michelle.

The two hour speedboat journey by sea was exhilarating and when we arrived in Belen we discovered the haven that is Mario Miller´s Pawanka beach cabins - traditional timber constructions on stilts with thatched roofs, good beds, crisp white linens, and right on the beach. Belen is a tranquil, idyllic settlement of a few houses spread out across a strip of land between the ocean and a lagoon, accessible only by boat. Pigs, chickens, cats, dogs and cows all roam freely around the village.

The locals were all immediately so friendly. Mario´s mother welcomed us with coconut water to drink straight from the shell. Mario himself was the local dude, always in trendy jeans and shades glued to his head. They served us delicious fish coconut stews, as well as the daily diet of mashed beans and torillas. The beach was picture perfect and deserted except for locals line fishing in the early mornings and evenings. We decided to sit back, relax and stay for three nights. We swam, chilled out, read and went for strolls through the villages. One afternoon we walked through Belen and found the football field which doubles as an airstip. Some boys were prepaing for practice so Chris joined in while I practised my Spanish chatting to one of the lads.

On Friday (25 April) we got up early for the next stage of the trip - a journey by motorised dugout canoe, a Cayuco, to the settlement of Las Marias, with our captain and his boatman. We motored across the lagoon and into narrow canals, thinking "this is awesome". Before long, we realised that the engine didn´t have enough oomph and we stopped on two occasions for a repair job. Being the end of the dry season the river is low and about two hours in, disaster struck. We hit a submerged tree and the engine and back of the boat fell into the river. Amazingly the captain kept hold of the motor and we parked up while they bodged another repair job. Back on the river, about twenty minutes later the same thing happened again, except this time the captain wasn´t quite so fast and the engine fell to the bottom of a very deep, cloudy stretch of river with a strong current. Captain and boatmen started diving but we soon discovered that these chaps weren´t the strongest swimmers so Chris, Tom and Michelle dived in to assist. I assessed the likelihood of my helping against the likelihood of my getting into a drowning situation in the fast moving brown water and stayed on the banks to helpfully point to where I thought the engine might have sunk. After a fruitless half hour we agreed to paddle back to Belen and try again tomorrow.

It took four slow hours to paddle back, and Mario was furious with the captain for losing his engine. Not easy to come by or afford in those parts I guess. We tried to defend him, but I don´t think he´ll ever work for Mario again. Shattered from all our sitting, and not having eaten anything all day we sat outside Mario´s house and drank several coldish beers. I soon felt happily dizzy and grateful for my tortillas, beans and eggs.

The second attempt looked like it was going to be another failure when the engine propeller wouldn´t work, but our new captain got it fixed and we made it to Las Marias in 6 hours. Going upriver and the water being shallow made it slow going, several times we all climbed out to push the canoe across the sand and stone banks, but it was a beautiful ride through the jungle. Lots of birds, occasional houses and many women washing clothes in the river.

Las Marias is an even smaller, very remote village right in the jungle consisting of a few houses, three churches, a school and the largest pig population in Central America (I made that up). (We were dismayed to discover five Canadians in our guesthouse. How dare there be other people on our off the beaten track adventure!) Dona Diana´s was right by the river, which was perfect for cooling off after a long hot day in the direct sun, and hey, no need for the bucket bath! Surprisingly great food - fish, chicken, and even homemade chocolate cake and smarties.

The village is all organised for tours. They not stupid. The sacaguia (guide coordinator) came to discuss what trek we wanted to do, and arranged a two day trip. He asked if we had any water purification tablets, which we didn´t, but he didn´t press the matter so we didn´t worry about it... Proved to be a slight error.

The following morning we set off with six guides, all locals from Las Marias, to take the four of us in dugout canes pushed by paddle and pole (pipantes) further up the river. We boated for a couple of hours, through ever more dense jungle, spotting countless birds (no hoped for crocs) before stopping for a couple of hours hiking in the rainforest. Gentle hike but interesting as the guide told us about the medicinal and edible plants and the fauna of the forest. Tom and Michelle spoke almost no Spanish so I got lots of translation practice.

We headed further up river to see the petroglyphs carved in stone. They don´t know much about these except they predate the Mayan civilizations so around 2,000 years old.

Our guesthouse for the night was completely basic and way close to nature. After another hot day Tom and Michelle gulped down a glassful from the bucket of water on the table before we wondered where the water came from. I asked Dona Maria if it was purified and she said no. I asked if it had come directly from the river, and she said yes. Oops. Who´s going to sympathise if we all get sick from drinking water straight from a river! I asked her to boil up a load for us for the following day hoping that might help. All started to feel a bit dehydrated.

Lack of electricity meant we were going to bed around 7 pm and getting up at about 5. Went to use the latrine before bed and discovered a scorpion and a massive spider at the foot of the bowl. Gave it a miss.

On Monday morning we rose early for our longer hike. This was great hacking through the dense jungle with a machete type stuff . Much wilder than any hiking we´d done before. Guide told us lots more stories about the plant and animal life, pointing out tracks of tapirs (like emus) in the ground and the purring of wild cats in the distance. We spotted a toucan, a white eagle, various spiders, wild chickens and several more birds. The guide hacked off a section of a vine, called a liana vine I think(?) with his machete, and we drank the clear water that dripped from inside. The water Dona Maria had boiled for us was utterly rank, tasting of smokey beans. We poured it away and filled our bottles from a sparkling river creek. It was delicious and we knew that water that good couldn´t hurt us.

The walk was steep and in the close jungle humidity we all got just a little damp. Getting back to the river it was the most delicious feeling to dive into the cool water fully clothed. From there, the boys paddled us back down river through rapids to Las Marias. Tom mentioned having seen the guide take his trousers down and check himself at one point on the hike. Realising what this meant, we passed an entertaining half hour together searching for and removing ticks. Horrid little critters.

On Tuesday we boated back down river to Mario´s place at Belen. It was a cloudier cooler day and we saw several turtles by the side of the river (and lots more women washing clothes, and smiley waving children).

Had a final meal with the Aussies and exchanged mutual positivity that it had been a real pleasure travelling together. I took it for granted at the time but it´s not everyone you can spend 10 days with, in rough conditions, sharing rooms, and not have any trouble getting on with. But it was easy going and fun. They were grateful for the experience since they wouldn´t have done it if we hadn´t said "Wanna come with?"

The journeys failed to get less eventful on our own. Chris and I woke at 2.30 am to catch a colectivo boat to Batalla from where we would catch a pick up to take us back to Corocito and Trujillo. The "hour" journey took two and a half hours. But at Batalla the pick ups were waiting and one shouty man bundled us into the back of a truck that we shared with one old guy, a young dude, and a little girl. An enormous five-bellied woman squeezed into the passenger seat and three children sat behind the seats. As soon as we starting moving I got nervous. The driver was going at unbelievable speeds through the village. We were ducking to avoid the roofs of houses, tree branches, overhanging bushes. We drove on to the beach where he swerved and sped along like an utter lunatic, through deep waves at times. Only when we broke down the first time did we discover the driver couldn´t have been older than 15.

As we sped along I could barely speak for the air rushing in my face. It was impossible to hold on to the truck and my hat at the same time, impossible to drink water, put suncream on, anything. I said to Chris that this was so awful I wanted to take the bus but after a while we passed a bus going SO slowly that I was seduced by the idea of getting back faster. On the "proper" dirt roads things seemed to be a bit smoother and I hoped for the best.

After a couple of hours, however, for some inexplicable reason the idiot boy drove off the side of a concrete bridge into a river. The truck rolled and landed on its side. Fortunately it was only a metre deep and no one was hurt, but it was pretty shocking. We were sitting on the back right so I was able to hold on until I tumbled into the water and pushed away from the vehicle. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Once everyone was out and I´d recovered from the shock I screamed angry obscentities in English at the driver and Chris leapt back into the water and punched him in the face for being such an idiot! I was so proud that calm, gentle Christopher knows when someone really deserves a good whacking. The kid just looked shocked. Stupid boy! Some of the worst kind of human behaviour. After the large woman forced herself out of the cab, the door swinging down and smacking her on the head as she did so, we saw that she was pushing her way out in front of the three little kids trapped in the back of the cab.

We managed to get another passing pick up to take us on the rest of the journey and as we were leaving, the driver´s mate ran over and asked for our fare. I yelled at him, though in the heat of the anger my Spanish failed me and I said something which translates as "We have luck to be life," and told him he was getting nothing. He told us he wished to kill all our kind and made the cut throat gesture at me. Charming.

Our new driver also drove at alarming speeds but somehow felt safer. We got to Trujillo and hitched a lift back to Casa Kiwi where we´d left Pepita. Me shuffling along with broken flip flops.

As I finish these last two epic entries I am sitting in Copan Ruinas, a pleasant if touristy town near the Guatemalan boder. It´s Sunday 4 May. It took two days of driving to get here so we spent Saturday chilling (well, mostly writing for me, so sorry if any of this is nonsensical - was at it for hours.) Today, Sunday, we explored Copan, a major site of Mayan ruins and tomorrow we hit Guatemala... at last! Only two weeks till we need to be back in Nicaragua to pick up JJ and Farah. How will we fit it all in? Eeek!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1210114380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1210114380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1210114380/tpod.html Tue, 06 May 2008 19:14:43 -0400 Pura vida

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Antigua Guatemala, Western Highlands, Guatemala

Lovely Antigua. Gringolandia of Guatemala sure, but after all our rumbles in the jungle, it´s a welcome spell of wandering cobbled stone streets, taking pictures of rustic colonial style buildings, munching veggie food and cake, drinking coffee in courtyard cafes, watching the world go by, admiring the gorgeous colourful fabrics of the local dress, and... shopping of course. So far we´ve acquired a hand-sewn patchwork bedspread reminiscent of the technicoloured dreamcoat, other overly bright bits of fabric, and a few hand-woven table runners (Chris is like, "What the hell´s going on... I´m buying table runners?" But they´ll look ever so nice hung on the wall too I say.) Perhaps we should save the money for the mortgage before we keep spending on the furnishings, but that would be too sensible.

Hasn´t all been play. Spent 6 hours pounding the streets advertising my website to all the hundreds of language schools here. Tomorrow we´re off to a lake that Aldous Huxley described as the most beautiful in the world, to stay in a place that offers yoga and reiki and all that malarkey for a bit of r n r. Lovely jubbly.

xxxxxx
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1209834480/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1209834480/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1209834480/tpod.html Sun, 04 May 2008 17:11:14 -0400 Pura vida

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Trujillo, Trujillo, Honduras

It´s been ages since my last entry, what with travelling to remote parts, or finding only useless internet cafes etc. But I´m here now with a few hours to spare, and I´ll try and cover the last three weeks briefly, and p´raps fill in a bit of detail later.

So, we left Nicaragua for Honduras on 11 April. Pepita had just had her under bits welded and oil leak sealed, but had come back from the garage with a passenger door that no longer closed and a new whistly whiney noise. After a delay of the kind we are now well used to, we headed straight for the border. Super quick. No bribes, no delays, not even a stamp in our passports (apparently you enter Central America and you´re good to travel).

Happy travellers we drove merrily into Honduras. But, within four hours we were stopped by the police, twice. In an unfortunate spot of timing, the wind caught my sun shade and flipped it out the window just as we were approaching a police checkpoint. They pulled us and accused us of committing an infraction. Here we go, I thought. They were accusing us of littering, and uttered the hilarious sentence, "You might litter in your country, but you can´t do it here." Hilarious because Hondurans are world class litter bugs. (On one bus journey we took through stunning countryside we stopped at a restaurant for everyone to get their lunch served in polystyrene boxes. After 15 minutes 40 polystyrene boxes, coke bottles and assorted plastic bags were thrown from the windows.) Anyway, I explained repeatedly that it was an accident and I wanted my sun shade back, and walked back up the highway to get it. They muttered again about our ¨"infraction", tried to get us on a couple of other things, and one of the coppers walked away, seemingly to make it easier for cop no.1 to extract a bribe, but we held fast and eventually we got away without losing any money. Aha!

Couple of hours later we were stopped again, but this time they just checked Chris´s licence and gave us an "esta bien". We´ve since discovered that police checkpoints are everywhere in Honduras, identifiable by the oranges cones down the middle of the road. The "Cones of Power".

Our stop for lunch was in a quaint colonial town set on a hill called Santa Lucia. Cobbled streets, red tiled roofs, pretty church. Then we moved on to Valle de Angeles, another similarly beautiful colonial town with an attractive plaza, and outdoor cafes to idle away a few hours with a cold beer and watch the world go by. Town like this don´t seem to exist in Costa Rica. Costa has raced ahead, modernised, developed and lost much of its colonial charm, by comparison with Nicaragua and Honduras anyway. And the earthquakes haven´t helped, admittedly.

Lots of quality artesanias in the town, so we bought some pottery made by the women of the local indigenous Lenka tribe. Airline baggage allowance having been busted long ago we are no longer holding back and leaving that problem for another day. Chris bought another scary mask to add to his collection that I hope will remain wrapped up in a box until in imagined large future home it can be placed in Chris´s own playroom.

Spent the night in a cheap, dark and dank room with no windows. As we were driving out of town next morning we spotted a funky little hotel where the French Canadian owner gave us a beautiful room with mezzanine and spotless hot water bathroom for just $15 because he was not yet fully open. A spot of luxury we stayed two more days and visited another pretty town with cobbled streets and red tile roofs called San Juan de Flores where we tasted our first baleadas, tortillas filled with mashed beans and crumbly cheese, and a delicious licuado (ubiquitous natural fruit shakes in Central America)

On Sunday we visited the nearby La Tigra national park and hiked a few hours to a waterfall On route met a friendly bunch from the states and their Honduran friend, who were "Like, wow, omg, you´ve come all the way from England, wow." La Tigra is in a former important gold and silver mine region that boomed in the 1920s to 1950s while managed by a US mining company. The miners lived in a town below the mine called San Juancito, from where they walked four hours up a steep hill to the mine. During the time of mining activity all the surrounding mountains were entirely deforested to provide timber fuel for the mine machinery. Since the Americans moved on the forests have grown back but San Juancito has crumbled into a rather dejected ghost town.

Moving on, Monday 14 April, we drove to Lake Yojoa about half way up the country where the highlight has to be the string of 40 or 50 fish restaurants by the side of the lake where for $4 you choose your fresh fish from a plate and then eat it freshly cooked straight off the bone with deep fried plaintain chips. Scrummy yummy delicioso. Stayed the night near the lake at D&D brewery, a hostel owned by a bloke from Oregon that set up here and brews his own beer. The first pint of IPA Chris had in while. Happy lad. While enjoying beer and food and chatting to a few Canadians, we heard a few gunshots. Looked at eachother bemused. Should we be alarmed? A few more gunshots. Uh oh. Much conversation about the gun culture in Central America ensued. (There are guards with pump action shotguns in the most unlikely, safe-seeming places. Guns are everywhere. Takes a bit of getting used to.) A few minutes later one of the staff came in holding three dead chickens. In the morning we found out the owner´s wife had been shooting at a stray dog that had killed all of her 15 chickens.

Tuesday we drive on. It´s wet and getting wetter all the time. We reach beach town Tela where we had planned to stop, but it´s wet and miserable. We drive on to La Ceiba, a bigger town, but it´s underwater. The rain is falling hard and the street with the hotel we´d chosen was knee-deep in water. I had visions of Pepita swimming away while we slept. Driving around in thick rain, Pepita is leaking badly, it´s rush hour and it´s dark, we pull into a smart looking hotel. Turns out to be "5 star" and $60 a night. We walk out. Then we walk back in again, tired and a bit desperate. We look just a little out of place in our dirty, torn clothes and flip flops as we follow the porter pushing our backpacks on the brass trolley to our room. But the shame was worth it. Proper comfy bed, clean white sheets and a real hot shower. Everywhere else a hot shower means electrical wires taped to the shower head. We call them suicide showers, although the shocks they give are not fatal, apparently.

We spend the following two days at Omega Tours lodge near the Rio Cangrejal in the Pico Bonito national park near La Ceiba. On arrival we are given the "Tours book" to choose from. We can go on a "4WD adventure" up a nearby hill to local villages for about $50 a person. Having spent the last few months on 4WD adventure of our own, we chuckled at the price and thought we´d try this one for ourselves and invited a couple we just met who were from the English-Scottish borders to join us. It was a great drive, with great sweeping views and lots of smiling waving children on the way. We stopped at one village ( a few houses along the road) and bought some beers from a pool house. Every village, no matter how poor or small, seems to have a few pool tables. The locals taught us their rules, then Chris challenged the local champion to a UK -rules match, beat him unashamedly and we left).

Another tour the Lodge offered was a guided walk through the national park for $45 per person. Shocked at the price, we wandered down to the park entrance and paid our $7 each and hiked to the beautiful B.... waterfall (forget the name, will add when I check the book). Beautiful rainbow greeted us at the falls. Good hike. Pretty wild, and dense forest. I got stung by some beasty right between the nostrils. Nose and lip swelled a treat. Looked like I´d had some dodgy botox accident for a day or so. Saw a little snake. Chris saw a toucan but it flew away before I clocked it. Darn elusive toucans. My goal on this trip is to spot my own toucan. After the hike we climbed down to the river and cooled off in the cool waters. Lush.

The following day, Friday 18 April, we travelled to Casa Kiwi, a hostel on the beach outside Trujillo, another north coast beach town. Run by a Kiwi, obv, but turned out she was on holiday in Peru and had left the place in the not necessarily so competent hands of four individuals: Boy 1 from the states, Boy 2 from the Bay island of Roatan where they speak English, Girl 1 from the states and Girl 2 from London.

Had a chilled, uneventful Friday night. Chris taught me to play pool. Turns out I´ve been doing it all wrong
all these years, hence my refusal to ever get involved in pub pool, and with a few simple tips I´m now, er, ever so slightly less rubbish at it than I used to be. Day spent in hammock by the ocean. Managed to scorch my chest and lower legs even though I was in the shade of a tree. The expected tropical tan has strangely refused to take hold on my stubborn Irish complexion. No comments along the lines of "Aren´t you meant to have been to hot countries?" when I get home please.

Anyway, Saturday night, slightly different story. The staff are getting pretty merry by the time we have dinner, and by the time we´ve all had a few beers, Staff Boy 1 is dong a yard of ale (really badly) and then vomiting it all back again. He is challenged by one of two female guests from the States who does a much better job of it. We, and an Aussie couple decide we´ll join the staff on a night out in town to experience a bit of Honduran nightlife. We head out at about 10pm with the US girls and one quiet lad from California.

At the discoteca we walk in to a sea of stares. Admittedly few of these are in my direction since the girls from the states and Staff Girl 2 are all hanging out of their tiny weeny tops. I hate that it´s true, but in this country where machismo rules, where white girls in particular get stared at, but girls generally get hollered at, hissed at, and
often treated sin mucho respeto it wasn´t the best way to discourage the lewdy comments! The bar, right on the beach was the hangout of lots of gangster looking types sizing up the clientele. Michelle, Staff Girl 2 and I got up for a bit of a dance, but quickly found that we didn´t really know how to move to Reggaeton, which basically involves not moving very much but trying to look a bit sexy while you´re at it. After about 4 and a half seconds in which some bloke unsubtly attempted to grope me, we headed back to the table. I accepted a tequila to liven things up a bit, but soon decided not to drink anymore as I couldn´t face using the only toilet available for the whole bar, which was dark, flooded and used more often by men going in in pairs or threes to carry out transactions. Before long the quiet Californian boy started vomiting on the table. Then an enormously enormous Honduran man staggered out of the loo and fell down hard, timber style, smashing glass everywhere. It´s all a feast for the eyes. At about 3 am Chris and I thought "Nah, let´s go home", but couldn´t get a taxi. Staff Boy 2 and Staff Girl 2 (from London) sloped off to the beach together, so we waited while the bar slowly died until 5 am. Finally fell gratefully into bed around 6 am. So that was our experience of Honduran nightlife. Wicked!

Slept it off in sand fly infested hammocks, and got an early night before our early start for our adventure to the Mosquito (La Moskitia) Coast, on which we had persuaded Tom and Michelle to join us.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1207419780/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1207419780/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1207419780/tpod.html Sat, 03 May 2008 14:42:01 -0400 Pura vida

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Esteli, Nicaragua

Hola amigos.
The first leg of the road trip has begun. The three of us: Chris, myself and our trusty old car Pepita (like an adorable but troublesome grandparent) left Santa Ana early on Monday, quite sad to leave the place, its birds, trees, and friendliness. Has been a good home for the past five months.

We drove for about six hours, right up to the very north of CR into the "wild west" region of Guanacaste. A hot arid area (especially in April) that we had not yet explored and where relatively few tourists venture. Arriving mid afternoon we had just enough time to head down to the beach. Utterly deserted, and one of the most beautiful we´ve seen, and would be perfect if not for the stings in the water. Can´t remember what causes it (remember the same in Thailand).

Up early on Tuesday to head to the border. The dreaded first border crossing. Equipped with numerous documents and multiple photocopies of everything photocopiable, a bit of hope and a smile, we arrived into the chaos that we had read about and had anxiously anticipated. Immediately, we were offered assistance to speed up the process. We accepted (just this once we thought) and were done impressively quickly once the passport lady had finished her breakfast and could turn her attention our way. On to Nicaragua. First lungful of insecticide as a far-from-airtight Pepita is fumigated, and we arrive at the office where we´re asked for some original part of some sticker we have on the windscreen. It´s the one thing we don´t seem to have. Several troubled moments pass before we are sent back, through the smog of idling trucks, to CR to find a lawyer. It´s getting hotter and stickier by the minute. More waiting until it´s sorted, a second lungful of insecticide and we´re back in Nica. I sit cooking in the car while Chris runs around, chasing officials and policeman, and two hours later it´s a high five moment as we get on our way. Lots of inexplicable fees, but no bribing situations, so what was all the fuss about...? Only 7 more borders to cross.

We headed straight for Granada, a beautiful town full of colonial architecture, churches and a peaceful air. There´s really nowhere like it in CR. We´re already impressed by Nicaragua, and thinking about how our Tico friends will be most annoyed to hear of our approval (Ticos and Nicas have a mutual dislike to put it mildly.)

A very pleasant time is spent, wandering, eating, admiring, interrupted only by my decision to get a troublesome tooth checked out. Ended up with two fillings for about 8 pounds sterling. Bit scary to open up for a dentist in a foreign country without anything nearly resembling fluency in the lingo, but I guess I´ve saved a few bills back home.

Spent following two nights chilling by a lake formed by a volcanic crater. Perfect pristine waters for swimming and kayaking, when not lying in hammock reading.

Yesterday we drove all the way to the northern town of Esteli where we are now. It´s a speedy schedule we´re keeping up here. Stopped off on the way here at pretty town of Masaya famed for its crafts and ended up spending on a few paintings for imagined future home.

We meant to go only as far as San Rafael, a village given a good write up. When we arrived at the only hotel we could find I was just a little unsettled by thick cobwebs and general dirt (Nicaragua being spider and scorpion country an´all). Still we checked in and explored. In all the countries I´ve been to I´ve never been stared at quite so much. It was generally a look somewhere between puzzled and gobsmacked. Seems they ain´t seen many like us before (my bright white legs probably didn´t help). There was nothing much in the village worth sticking around for, so we picked Esteli off the map and drove on. Perhaps a mistake. The road was incredibly bad, and it was already getting dark. We drove at 15 miles an hour over rocks and in and out of pot holes for two hours, but through really stunning landscapes, and eye-opening desperately poor villages, where the people really did not know what to make of two gringos in a Costa Rican car driving through their remote settlements.

We made it, but poor old pepites, we´ve pushed her too hard and she needs the doctor again. She´s a bit incontinent with diesel and a bit slobbery with the oil. Chris is nursing her as I write.

Possible plan is to spend the next week volunteering on an organic farm nearby. Always fancied a bit of woofing.
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]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1207692660/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1207692660/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hannah.thompson/costa_rica_2007/1207692660/tpod.html Tue, 08 Apr 2008 18:36:27 -0400 Pura vida

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Esteli, Nicaragua

We´re back in Esteli.

We didn´t volunteer as considered (turned out to be bit of a sham), but we did head up into the highlands of Miraflor reserve and spend two wonderful days on a remote farm, sleeping in a cabin without electricity or running water, and spending our time walking, lazing, reading, breathing the clean air, and enjoying being sometimes just a little bit chilly. Dear me, it IS hot in Nicaragua in April.

We had wandered into this cool cafe in Esteli on Saturday that turned out to be owned by a woman from Leicestershire. She told us all about this agricultural cooperative that had been set up in a nearby protected area. The project is helping farm owners diversify to supplement their income by opening their homes to tourists. Sounded tranquil, insightful and amazing so off we went on Sunday, back along roads of rock and rubble, past striking landscapes of rolling hills, pasture farms. and dry, dry land. Everywhere parched as it is only just now beginning to rain again.

The farm itself, La Posada del Sonador, was a perfect retreat. An escape from the melting heat of the lowlands and silent except for the insects. (Including thousands of amazing flashing insects that lit up the trees like stars.) There were just a couple of other guests, including a gentle young chap from Ohio who was about to return home to run his own organic farm - how romantic! We went on a great long hike through farmland, cloud forest and villages to an icy cold waterfall. And the most amazing and unique thing about the place... wonderful vegetarian food! Peppers stuffed with nuts and mushrooms, curried omelets, wholemeal bread, fried tortillas stuffed with cheese. You may not appreciate my enthusiasm, but I´m so used to a diet that largely varies between rice and beans, beans and rice, or gallo pinto (rice and beans mixed together), so such food is, really, a revelation. After dinner last night we witnessed how Nicas party. It was Dona Corina´s birthday so family and friends turned up, bringing cake and the ubiquitous Flor de Cana rum, and immediately burst into a bawdy singsong that went on into the night.

So, why are we back in Esteli? Pepita of course. She´s getting her leaky bits fixed and lumpy bits welded. We´re taking advantage of the delay to take more Spanish lessons, and to publicize my website (intercambiocentralamerica.com) which is, finally, functioning... more or less, even if it doesn´t yet look as it should.

More soon. Honduras next...
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Boquete, Panama, Panama

A second and final border run this weekend took us to the green hills of Boquete in Panama. Boquete is a long and tedious three-bus, 12 hour journey each way from Santa Ana, but the lush forest, clean air, and stunning scenery made it well worth the effort. Spent all day Sunday hiking in the forest, climbing steep, steep hillsides and making too much noise to spot much wildlife (though did see the elusive Quetzal that attracts the binocular brigade from all over the world and a snake. Brown. Harmless?)
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