TravelStream™ news feed for member teamrees on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/teamrees en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Wed, 09 Aug 2006 07:46:56 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1143367200/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1143367200/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1143367200/tpod.html Wed, 09 Aug 2006 07:46:56 -0400 With belongings and jobs packed away for safe keeping and a wedding out of the way, the Reeses head for New Zealand, stopping in South and Central America for coffee and cocktails.

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Sydney, Australia

The Seniors were still in Sydney when we arrived, and they had very kindly offered us the spare sofa bed in their Apartment in the centre of town, so we headed into town on the train. This was a double decker, of the type that you see in Holland among other places.My first impression of Sydney, was that it felt very American. The airport shops had an American feel to them, and emerging from the train station near the Town Hall, the skyscrapers remiNded me of New York. This is no bad thing in my opinion, as I like New York and America*, so I immediately warmed to the city.Dad came to meet us at the train station, a mere 50m from the Meriton Rialto apartment block on Pitt Street, and very nice it was too. After a slow glass of wine and a quick shower, we headed out for dinner.The next morning, after a nice breakfast at one of many lovely little cafes that line Pitt Street, we ambled through the centre to the Skytower. The view from the top was impressive, but the multi-media extravaganza that our ticket entitled us to was decidedly mediocre.After this we strolled to Circular Key, and took a ferry out to Watson's bay. This is a very picturesque region of Sydney, a suburb of the city, but with a laid-back holiday village feel. After a pleasant afternoon in the sun, crowned with fresh fish and chips, we headed back to the apartment. We bade farewell to the seniors, who were homeward bound, and caught a taxi to the Wake Up! hostel.This was big and busy, very much of the type that we had tried to avoid(mostly with success)throughout NZ, but was clean and the room was nice enough. Everything was in bright primary colours, and exclamation marks must be cheaper here than at home, as they were everywhere.We were still on Pitt Street, but down near the central train station, and on the outskirts of Chinatown where we ate that night at a nice little Thai restaurant.The next day, making full use of our train/ferry combi-ticket, we steamed out to Manly Bay, on the coast to the north of the city. The bay was particularly manly on this breezy Tuesday as due to the effects of a tropical cyclone further north, the waves were fierce, and no swimming was allowed. The only bodies allowed in the water were "experienced surfers", and there were more than a few brave souls out playing their music.We explored "The Rocks" later in the day, an area of town with a good reputation for exciting nightlife, but whether we were there at the wrong day of the week or wrong time of year was not clear, but we sadly found it far from rocking, and retreated to a bar near Circular Quay for some Aussie beer or just "beer" as they call it here.The next day, we did what needs to be done in Sydney: a tour of the Opera House. This was quite a mixed experience. I'd been looking forward to it for quite some time, as it is one of my top 5 buildings/structures (if you're interested [as Andrea won't be] the others in no particular order are: Emirates Towers, Dubai; Severn Bridge (the old one), South Wales; Chrysler Building, New York; National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth. Bonus points if you can guess which is the only one I sketched (badly) for my Art GCSE).The experience was mixed for various reasons. Firstly the positives: The structure itself, up close, was fantastic, and as good as I'd hoped for. It has a lot of intricate details that aren't visible from any distance, eg. the tiling, so it was great to see up close. It was also good to see inside, and the Great Hall is spectacular, so majestic that Andrea said it nearly brought tears to her eyes. Also having got a good view of it from the plane as we approached, I think that it single-handedly (along with its tag-team partner, the Harbour Bridge)transforms the Sydney city skyline (one for Chris Eubank) from a bland one, to one of the worlds most recogniseable.On the negative side, inside it looks quite dated, and in parts unfinished, with lots of bare concrete, popular in the 60s when architects could still fool themselves that concrete would date well. Particularly ugly was the main opera hall, which was lined with private boxes that looked like hanging concrete bathtubs. All a bit disappointing, especially as parts of it are still being developed "in line with the original vision" leading to more exposed concrete.This was our last night in Sydney, and we ended it with dinner at one of the Harbourside restaurants, followed by drinks at Lenin, a lively bar on the waterfront.On our final morning in Sydney, we went for a walk through Hyde Park, and watched some chess players before catching our train to the airport for our flight to Singapore.* No endorsement of Bush Administration Foreign Policy is implied or should be inferred.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1143712980/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1143712980/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1143712980/tpod.html Sun, 21 May 2006 06:39:21 -0400 With belongings and jobs packed away for safe keeping and a wedding out of the way, the Reeses head for New Zealand, stopping in South and Central America for coffee and cocktails.

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Singapore, Singapore

Our BA Flight to Singapore was fine, if a little bumpy.Singapore airport, a hub for many a Europe/Far East/Australasia journey is an epic one, and it took us about 1/2 hour to walk from the gate to the luggage collection. Once outside, we jumped in a taxi, little knowing that the first Singaporean we would meet would be a comically rude taxi driver. All was well initially, we'd booked into a budget hotel, and he drove us there with little fuss, but when we arrived, it looked decidedly dodgy, so we decided to try elsewhere. We asked the driver if he could instead take us to a different hotel recommended by the guide, about 3 streets away. This began his tirade "This is not your car!" he said, and I assumed he was making a little joke, so just laughed. But he continued, telling us that it was not his job to drive us around all day(a strange hang-up for taxi driver to have, maybe he's been in the business a bit too long). Andrea and I looked at each other, a bit baffled at his outburst, having been quite polite, we thought, in explaining our change of plan. He took us to our hotel, which looked fine, and out we got with all the aggro seeming so unnecessary.We were staying at the New Seventh Story Hotel, which must have been new once upon a time, but certainly wasn't anymore, but was clean and the staff were very friendly.In trying to get our bearings the next morning, we found the nearby streets deserted, and felt that our hotel was a bit out of the way, so decided to explore a little, and find somewhere else to stay. We were hoping to stay with Clare and Andy, friends from RR who live in Singapore, but were currently on shore leave back in Blighty, so we would have to fend for ourselves for a few more days. Also, by this time, I had arranged to fly home to go to Cardiff, so if Andrea was to be left all alone for a few days, we needed to make sure we were stopping somewhere fairly pleasant.We first headed to Chinatown, which is not somewhere to go when hungover or suffering from a headache. All five senses, numbed by the sterile Singapore subway are slapped with a wet fish when stepping out at Chinatown station. The heat all over Singapore was quite draining, and here was no exception. The eyes are bombarded by vivid colours of lanterns, posters, shops selling all kinds of silks and fabrics, the noise of street traders and general bustle, and the aromas - from cooking and incense, spices, bustle on the streets.We next headed for Little India, which was like stepping into Bombay (I imagine, never having been). Narrow streets were crammed with little shops selling electrical goods, fabrics and crafts, and every other establishment was a restaurant. Indian tunes blared from all directions and mixed seamlessly into one another as we walked along.Strolling for any distance was draining in the humidity, and escaping into the cool air of the super-clean metro was welcome relief. All the signs on the trains were in Malay, Chinese, English and Urdu, reflecting the cultural milkshake that is Singapore.We ate lunch at the restaurant of Alvin Koh, a 4'8" bodybuilder turned chef, photos of him and newspaper articles about him filled the walls, and indeed he cooked a mean lunch.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1129403580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1129403580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1129403580/tpod.html Sun, 21 May 2006 03:45:50 -0400 With belongings and jobs packed away for safe keeping and a wedding out of the way, the Reeses head for New Zealand, stopping in South and Central America for coffee and cocktails.

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Santiago, Chile

The flight down was comfortable enough, but the early arrival - 4am saw us waiting bleary eyed in an airport café till sunrise. We got talking to an English girl called Miranda, who had also travelled through Venezuela, and we swapped Roraima-ascent tales over cappuccinos. In trying to arrange a hotel for us to stay, I was approached by a tourist official, who was very friendly, and went off and apparently phoned lots of hotels on our behalf. Unfortunately all the ones we suggested to him from our guide book were full, or so he said. He then kindly offered to drive us to a hostel that he knew of, whom he had just spoken to, and confirmed that they had space. This was all starting to sound a little suspicious, and the strong airport coffee was beginning to wake us up. We were a little sceptical that the entire city of Santiago was full, so we thanked him for his "help", said we would consider his offer and took the only honourable course of action - when his back was turned we loaded up our baggage trolleys and legged it. We spotted a taxi driver that I'd earlier made provisional negotiations with for a ride into town, and past the sight of a dodgy tourist official shaking his fist through a cloud of burning rubber, we set off for Santiago.Our taxi driver drove us to a very pleasant hotel that Andrea had stayed in when she passed through here 3 years previously, and it was with great relief that the hotel had vacancies (this was the very first one that our helpful tourist official had told us was full, so we felt fully vindicated by our decision). The Hotel Plaza Londres was elegantly decorated with wood panelled reception and living rooms, and wonderfully high ceilings, and was clean and friendly. We stored our bags, as we were still too early to check in, and set off with Miranda to explore a little of the city, and try to secure ourselves three of the finest breakfasts that the Chilean capital could offer.The city was mostly still asleep, and we walked for almost an hour struggling to find anywhere open. We even failed to get a McDonalds breakfast, an occasional refuge for us in Central America where McMuffins had come to the rescue of an otherwise breakfast-less morning, as they only did the normal burgers, no McMuffin-rich morning menu.We eventually settled for dismal toasted sandwiches and undrinkable hot-chocolate, before heading back to the hotel to get some much-needed sleep. We didn't do much else that first day, but met up with Miranda for dinner that night at a lively restaurant/bar, where the food was excellent, and the wine, as described to me by our waiter, was "espectacular". The next day we strolled around the city, and found it to be very pleasant and nicely set out, with handsome parks, squares and museums, proudly paying tribute to liberators and Chile's indigenous heritage.I went alone one morning to the Concha y Toro vineyard tour, as Andrea had a bit of sunstroke and stayed in bed. This was my first vineyard tour, and was very interesting, despite my bus being late, and missing the English language tour. I felt that I got most of what the tour guide was saying, or at least I was able to imagine what she might be saying, and found that very interesting.We hired a car for a day, which was rather nerve wracking to drive through the manic Santiago traffic, but once out on the open road was a pleasure. We drove up into the Andes a little way, far enough at least for views of snow-capped peaks and crisp mountain air.On the strength of this, we decided to do a day's tour up into the mountains proper.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1127676120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1127676120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1127676120/tpod.html Sun, 21 May 2006 03:30:26 -0400 With belongings and jobs packed away for safe keeping and a wedding out of the way, the Reeses head for New Zealand, stopping in South and Central America for coffee and cocktails.

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Tikal, Guatemala

FloresAn early morning flight saw us gliding over miles and miles of Guatemalan jungle before we'd really woken up, but it was still an enjoyable flight, stimulated as we were by a healthy dose of fresh Guatemalan coffee. Some of the views were just incredible, as we passed over dozens of tiny mountain villages, with blankets of cloud lingering in the valleys between them.Tikal airport was only small, but there were no shortage of shuttles lined up at Arrivals, so we hopped in one and headed for Flores, a nice little island town at the edge of a lake, connected by bridge to the mainland.Our hotel room at the Mirador del Lago (Lake view) was decidedly modest in its presentation, but lived up to it's promise with a nice balcony overlooking the water, and also a massive fan, which tried its hardest to help with the heat, but we found the humidity here quite draining after the springtime feel of Antigua.As a town, Flores was small, we walked right round the perimiter in about an hour, but quite pleasant. It felt very old, with winding cobbled streets, and lots of nice waterfront eateries. As evening came along, we went for a swim in the lake, joining a few local kids diving off a wooden jetty. The water was warm, and as the sun started to set I was struck by the feeling that this was a moment to savour.After drying off, we sat at a lakeside bar for a swift cerveza, and got talking to rather strange a young lady from England, I shall call her Rebecca.It started off on a sensible enough footing, swapping tales of where we'd all been so far, what we thought of different places, and handy hints of future things to do, the normal traveller-type conversations.Rebecca had indeed travelled very widely, all round Central America, and had managed to extract herself from various tricky situations after hitch-hiking across borders, scuba diving with sharks etc. Then her life story started to thicken. She had lived for 2 years in Nepal, as an anthropologist learning a local dialect, which she found quite easy due to her previous language training, but then she moved to another village with ANOTHER dialect, which she then had to learn from scratch. We were impressed, and "wow"ed and "well I never"ed in all the right places. The Nepal posting, she said, was for her PhD thesis which she had just handed in at the 2 universities she was studying at. 2 universities? When we enquired further she replied with a dismissive "Oxford and Cambridge". She also told us that she had to do her research "under cover of teaching english" so that the locals didn't twig that they were being spied on.She then went on to say that she was moving to South America to work with some NGOs. We remarked that we had just completed 2 months of volunteering in Venezuela with an NGO, but she didn't show any interest, or ask us which one, or anything else. She simply carried on to say that she was now going to become a "South American Specialist". By now I was starting to smell something a little fishy. "How does 2 years in Nepal make you a South American specialist?" I asked."No," she corrected me as though I had misunderstood "I was a Nepalese specialist, now I'm going to South America to become a South American specialist". She declined to expand any further on what a South American specialist is or does, and soon afterwards we gently made our excuses and said goodbye, then backed away making twirly signs round our ears when she looked the other way.On our stroll back to the hotel we discussed. Had we just been speaking to a gifted lady of the world, or a bit of a loony with Baron Munchausen as a travelling companion? Who knows. I go for the latter, Andrea wasn't quite sure if it was all true, but certainly concurred that either way, she was very strange. Further suggestions on a postcard please.That evening, we returned to the lakeside and had a gorgeous romantic dinner overlooking the water. Just perfect.Tikal Next morning we were off on an early shuttle to Tikal, gateway to the Mayans...Our shuttle collected a French-Canadian guy who was working in London, and a Swiss girl, who didn't say much, but sat at the back of the bus. We chatted with the Canadian guy for a while, and eventually the German girl joined in for a while then said "I HATE the French-Canadian accent when they speak French, I think it sounds awful". Cue strange looks to each other, then an awkward silence for a while. Quite amusing, and we added her details to our "I-Spy Weird Travellers Handbook" (with a 5 point bonus for being Swiss).Our shuttle dropped us at the entrance to the ruins, now a large national park, and we made our way to our 'lodge' a nice hotel inside the grounds. This was another wedding present, and was a treat indeed, with nice cabins, and an inviting swimming pool, which we noted for later, as first there were ruins to see...The jungle was hot and humid, and we were glad of the canopy of shade as we followed the map to the various temples. Following a path through the jungle, we were very conscious of snakes, but again saw monkeys in the trees. The biggest treat for us however was seeing Coatis - little cute furry things, from the racoon family. We spotted one in the trees, and before long he'd been joined by about 10 more, a huge family just walking across our path, and snuffling around in the undergrowth, completely unpeturbed by our presence. They were very entertaining, with black and grey hooped tails, standing 2ft straight up into the air like periscopes, and we felt very honoured to have spent some time in their company.The temples, when we eventually staggered through the heat to find them, were very impressive, and amazingly well preserved. Some of them had been restored, using the original techniques, and the ongoing maintenance effort meant that visitors were permitted to climb up to the tops of some of the temples. We saw the Central Plaza, the centre of the village, and the site of most of the ceremonial meetings that were held by the Mayans, and it was not difficult to imagine such ceremonies taking place here, a few centuries ago. The tallest remaining temple, Temple IV was the star attraction, and we had booked a trip to it to watch the sunrise the following morning, so after a bit more wandering, we retired to the hotel to get away from the heat and chill out for the afternoon.Alarms are never pleasant to hear, and at 4am, the sound was not a welcome one, but the thought of witnessing an epic sunrise provided sufficient motivation to get us up and out the front to meet our tour group of about 6 others.After our Costa Rican snake experience, our torches were pointed very much downwards as we trudged through the pitch-black jungle to reach the temple. As we got to Temple IV, the blackness was beginning to lift, and I was quite nervous with anticipation as we climbed the wooden stairway to the top.Despite the sapping heat during the day, it was decidedly nippy at this hour, and we sat at the top and shivered as a cacophony of animal noises rang out from every direction as the jungle started to wake up. Birds squawked, monkeys barked, even the odd big cat roared as they all got up, yawned and set about making their first cup of coffee.As the darkness began to lift, the view from the top was astounding, miles and miles of the green carpet of jungle canopy stretched out to the horizon in every direction, and the tops of the temples reaching up through them, only the very tops managing to poke above the trees. Despite the unusual setting, the scene was familiar, having appeared in Star Wars (Episode IV). After absorbing the view for a long while, taking a few photos and humming lots of Star Wars themes, we adjourned to the slightly less inspiring, but equally enjoyable hotel pool for a bit of intensive loafing before catching a bus back to Flores.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1126638660/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1126638660/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1126638660/tpod.html Sun, 21 May 2006 03:25:49 -0400 With belongings and jobs packed away for safe keeping and a wedding out of the way, the Reeses head for New Zealand, stopping in South and Central America for coffee and cocktails.

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Cahuita, Costa Rica

Costa RicaTicabus, the National Express of Central America, runs from Panama all the way up to Mexico, and had been recommended to us as a splendid way to travel. Alas, our 16 hour trip from Panama City to San Jose did not live up to its billing, sat in uncomfy seats with water dripping on us from the air conditioning, next to a whiffy toilet. Not the highlight of the holiday so far. But on the plus side, they did show some English-language films - Ghost and Shawshank Redemption, which at least made the time go fairly quickly.Then another downside - the border crossing into Costa Rica. This is apparently the main route for cocaine smuggling from Colombia up to the USA, so our bags were searched and sniffed (by people and dogs respectively) on the way out of Panama, then again 100m later on the way into Costa Rica. And yet we got off fairly lightly with only cursory searches, an American couple on our coach had everything scrutinised - chocolate bars unwrapped, shampoo bottles opened and sniffed, everything but the rubber glove treatment. All this, coupled with lots of queuing for passport stamps, and lots of waiting around, added up to a jolly 2.5 hour border crossing. Fortunately, our championship series of Lord of the Rings Top Trumps continued as we sat around waiting.The bus arrived in San Jose at the somewhat inconvenient time of 4am, and this was not supposed to be the safest of cities, so we dug in at an all night café until we could catch a bus to the coast at 6am.We got to the bus station at 5.45am and the ticket office for our bus, although not for the others, was shut. We asked at the ticket window next door if we could buy our tickets there. No, we were informed, but the office would open at 5.30. Slightly confused, and questioning our comprehension of the Spanish, we persevered:"Umm... excuse me. Again. The office is closed, can we just pay on the bus?""No," repeated the attendant slightly impatiently "THE OFFICE OPENS AT 5.30"We looked at each other. I looked at my watch. 5.50am. I was starting to think that we´d drifted into some twilight zone, when I was struck by a sudden thought. "Ask him what time it is now" I said to Andrea, and she asked - 4.50am. An hour´s time difference between Panama and here. Doh!Feeling like a couple of divs, we sat down and waited. 40 minutes later, the office opened, we bought tickets, caught the bus, got to Cahuita. No problem.Costa Rica is famous for its two main exports: coffee and bananas. On the journey we ran through the heartland of banana country, passing miles and miles of plantation trees, laden with enormous bunches of bananas. Banana growth was so stimulated that the trees needed to be supported with cables to keep them upright. The biggest name in the area, I was pleased to find, was Dole, followed closely by the Llandre and Tal-y-bont plantations (little joke for the Bow Street posse...).The sleepy little hamlet of Cahuita was set around a few dirt tracks, and was decidedly Caribbean in it's ambience, more Marley than Merengue booming from the beach bars. We got ourselves settled in at a lovely beachside cabin called Jenny's, complete with balcony looking out to sea. Perfect. We didn't try to achieve much during the next few days, but did a lot of reading and general loafing.A golden beach stretched south from Cahuita, and immediately behind the sand was tropical rainforest. Through the rainforest, a few metres back from the beach was a nature trail that made for a good walk, so one sunny afternoon, off we set. There were lots of birds and assorted rustlings in the trees, before Andrea spotted a family of white-faced capuchin monkeys. They were making quite a lot of noise, and we even saw little ones being carried by mothers. It was quite wonderful to simply discover the monkeys in the wild, rather than having them pointed out to us on an organized tour.A little later, as we continued our stroll along the cleared path through the jungle, I noticed a little movement on the ground ahead of us, and spotted a very well disguised snake. Yikes. After leaping back, we composed ourselves and bent down to have a look and noticed that it was coiled up, as if ready to sink its fangs into a tasty pasty welsh calf muscle. We stopped to watch it for a while (from a safe distance) before giving it a wide berth as we continued on our walk. As we strolled, enlivened by our impromptu wildlife spotting, I mused for a while that maybe there are two kinds of people in this world, one that, whilst on a jungle walk will look to the trees for monkeys, and the other will look to the ground for snakes, and that maybe Andrea is one, and I'm the other. It is clear that a combination of both would be ideal, maximising both the wildlife-spotting opportunities and getting-home-alive chances. Does this explain our trip success thus far in having seen lots of good stuff, whilst still being alive? Who knows, but I realised that I'd better get back to looking out for snakes, and mused no more.We later looked it up in a book of Costa Rican snakes, but couldn't find it. From what we could remember of its look, it was similar to some of the poisonous ones (and Costa Rica, we then realised with a gulp, has LOTS of poisonous ones). We also heard later about some South and Central American snakes which are ultra aggressive, and actually chase people! This was a possibility that had not run through our minds, secure as always with the "it's more scared of you than you are of it" mantra. Imagine that, spotting a snake, jumping back a couple of feet to discover that it's actually following you. Sweet Jesus. I think we would have legged it all the way to the nearest travel agent for a one-way ticket back to Blighty.After our David Attenborough walk, we strolled back along the beach, which was nice, but uneventful, except that I carried a small thin-strapped rucksack which left me with a light sun-burn that looked like bra-straps for the next few days, much to Andrea's amusement.After our taste of Costa Rican wildlife, we wanted more, and that could mean only one thing in Costa Rica - giant turtles...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1128971160/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1128971160/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1128971160/tpod.html Sun, 21 May 2006 03:22:10 -0400 With belongings and jobs packed away for safe keeping and a wedding out of the way, the Reeses head for New Zealand, stopping in South and Central America for coffee and cocktails.

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Caracas, Venezuela

Our bus ride back to Caracas was uneventful, and mercifully comfortable, though neither of us slept particularly well. All the hotels in Alta Mira were full, so we allowed ourselves a slightly more upmarket option in Las Mercedes. We didn't do much in Caracas that day, spending most of it just chilling out around the hotel, (it had a pool and <i>everything)although we did stroll out to an English bookshop to stock up for anticipated long bus journeys ahead...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1126465680/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1126465680/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1126465680/tpod.html Sun, 21 May 2006 03:19:56 -0400 With belongings and jobs packed away for safe keeping and a wedding out of the way, the Reeses head for New Zealand, stopping in South and Central America for coffee and cocktails.

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Panama City, Panama

Panama via CaracasThe next morning we were up at dawn for our flight to Panama City. Although we arrived to check in a good 2.5 hours before our flight, we only just made it through to the gate on time, due to umpteen queues for various things. One last cerveza from the Venezuelan brewery of bureaucracy that had kept us merry during the last 2 months.Panama CityThe heat of Central America washed over our faces as we stepped onto the Panama tarmac, despite our early morning arrival. Guadeloupe, a lady from the hostel we´d booked came to collect us, but before dropping us off, kindly took us on a tour of the town. The approach to Panama City from the airport is quite dramatic. Caribbean landscape - palm trees and green, green grass slowly giving way to reveal a skyscraper skyline in the distance, overlooking the blue of the Pacific. The city on the whole was very picturesque, fine-looking modern skyscrapers, set alongside some splendid colonial architecture, but a good few run-down areas, and lots of construction detracted from the overall splendour.After getting to the hostel (which wasn't as nice as Guadeloupe´s kindness might have suggested) we explored the city a little. The language here is Spanish, but English is quite widely spoken, with the history of Panama being more than a little influenced by Uncle Sam, due to it's geography. Panama spans the very narrow land bridge (or "isthmus" to those with nimble tongues) which separates the land masses of North and South America, and hence the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans. With only about 45 miles of land separating the two oceans, a connecting canal had been a dream for many since the Pacific was discovered by Europeans, and then intensified when the West coast of the Americas became populated. In the late 1800s, the region was part of Colombia, but there was a growing independence movement. In exchange for a treaty permitting the building of a canal, the United States promised immediate recognition of sovereignty (with accompanying military support should it be required), and the Republic of Panama was declared in 1903. Work on the canal began soon after, and the first ship made the crossing on 15 August 1914.As part of this treaty, the canal itself, and the land immediately accompanying it on both sides (known as the Canal Zone) was sovereign US territory, controlled and maintained by the US. The canal was not returned to Panamanian control until 31 Dec 1999, and the American influence lingers still.As we were coming back through here on our way to Chile, we decided to leave a trip to the Panama canal until the way back. Instead we spent our day exploring the city, sorting out our transit north, and... shopping! After 2 months in the consumer-desert of Santa Elena, we marvelled at the oasis of a Panamanian shopping mall. We crawled, eyes and mouths gaping, through the doors of a huge supermarket - uncomprehending at the scale of choice available. 17 different types of Colgate toothpaste! 43 varieties of breakfast cereal! 117 brands of shoe polish! What a treat!Eventually we got a grip, and before we spent too much money, we dragged ourselves out. Next stop Costa Rica.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1128970980/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1128970980/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/teamrees/round_the_world/1128970980/tpod.html Sun, 21 May 2006 03:16:01 -0400 With belongings and jobs packed away for safe keeping and a wedding out of the way, the Reeses head for New Zealand, stopping in South and Central America for coffee and cocktails.

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Merida, Venezuela

Staying an extra week in Santa Elena enabled us to find some cheap flights from Puerto Ordaz to Caracas, cutting our journey to Merida down to 2 x 12 hour bus rides instead of 3.The night bus to Merida from Caracas stopped at about 4am for tea break, and I got chatting to a tennis instructor from Caracas called Adrian, while Andrea dozed on the bus.We arrived in Merida, a small town dwarfed by the Andes that surround it, as the sun was climbing, and went for breakfast with Adrian. Two girls said 'buenos dias' to me as we walked past, and giggled. Adrian laughed. 'You stand out here,' he said 'to them you look like Brad Pitt'.'Not just here' I said, 'happens all the time.' I shook my head gravely. Such a burden.After breakfast, we made plans to meet up with Adrian later in the week, and went to our 'posada' a nice guest house with a courtyard and hammocks with a view of the Andes, for a little siesta. For the rest of the day we just relaxed, and later strolled round the town, getting our bearings.The next day, on the advice of the guest house owner, we went by bus to a neighbouring village, to visit some hot springs. The bus ride itself was a pleasure - the countryside here was impossibly scenic, lots of little villages tucked away in wooded valleys, all loomed over by rocky peaks.The hot springs were a steep hike away, and as the route up was deserted, we assumed we would be the only ones there. When we arrived however, it was more like a Butlins family pool in the height of summer, than the secluded mountain-jacuzzi I had been imagining. There was a large rectangular pool, about 5m x 10m, and was full of kids jumping about, laughing and screaming, and adults stood around with plastic cups of beer from the poolside bar. Unexpected.But the water was hot like a bath, too hot to stay in for long in the Andean heat- at least without a couple of cooling beers... We had a nice chat with a guy who was originally from Merida, but now lived in New York selling ice creams. He said he was glad to have the chance to practice his English, as he lives and works there in a Dominican community where people speak only Spanish. On the way back, we stopped in a lovely colonial village called Tabay for lunch, and afterwards sat in their leafy square for a while, watching people go by, in the warm afternoon shade.Merida is home to the world's highest cable car, reaching a whopping 5000m in 4 separate stages. We'd been advised to get up there as early as possible, to stand the best chance of getting good views before the clouds come rolling in, so we'd booked for the earliest slot - oh seven hundred hours.The journey up to the top took the best part of an hour, but the views of the valleys below on the journey were spectacular. An icy breeze greeted us as we stepped off onto the roof of Venezuela, and icicles hung down from the railings. We took some photos, and some video footage for our round the world documentary. This trip up was courtesy of Heather, so our thanks to her went out and echoed down the valleys.Our friend Dave who came here after he left Santa Elena, about 2 weeks previously, advised us that when he was here he was far too cold, and due to the lack of oxygen, couldn't move about too much to keep warm. We'd wrapped up pretty warm, and to prove that I am made of sterner stuff, I hammered out a quick burst of press-ups. Andrea watched with a look of awe, I think, but my vision went a bit blotchy so I couldn't be sure.ParaglidingEmma and Ben, keen paragliders, had bought us a tandem paraglide each for our wedding present, and today was the day. The instructors picked us up from the posada, along with a swiss couple who were also going up up and away.We drove about 1/2 hour out of town, and then up into the hills. Up and up we went, zig-zagging up the mountain, until, several miles past the point where I thought "ok, that´s high enough", we stopped and unloaded the gear. There were two instructors and two paragliders ("wings" to those of us in the know). I and the swiss guy would go up with the instructors (pilots?captains?skippers?) first, after which we would come to land at the same spot, then Andrea and the swiss girl would go up next.I put on the helmet and harness, and the instructor clipped me to his harness. We were stood on a grassy outcrop, at the edge of what I might dramatically call, "a friggin big mountain". It sloped down gently for about 5m, before becoming steeper, and then disappearing into nothing.I was given instructions on what to do with my hands ("hold here") and what to do when the time came ("run off the edge"). The instructor tugged at the wing to catch the wind, and I felt it tugging. I made a quick sign of the cross, or at least I would have done if I was a) very religious and b) not gripping white-knuckle hard onto my harness straps as instructed, and we were off. "Go!Go!" said somebody stood right behind me.I took about 3 steps, then felt myself being yanked into the air, as my feet dangled uselessly. After a couple of seconds of mild terror, I was able to sit back in my harness, and start breathing again. We flew upwards quite quickly, and the view was, quite simply, amazing. We soared back and forth across the ridge to gain height, and I found it, I was very glad to discover, far more pleasant and relaxing than I´d feared.Unfortunately, soon after we were airborne, the weather deteriorated, and it started to rain. My instructor soared close to those left on the ground, and shouted that we were going to descend to the bottom of the mountain instead of landing back at the same spot, so that they could drive down to meet us at the bottom. So unfortunately, Andrea didn´t get a go that day, and we would have to come back tomorrow. The landing was fine, and the others came down to meet us mid celebratory-beer. I was glad to be back on solid ground, but I had really enjoyed it.So we returned the day after, and the weather was far better, and this time there was just Andrea and I with the instructors, so I got to go again, and we went up together.Andrea said she was feeling quite nervous as she got kitted up, but didn´t seem to shaky. She went up first, and I then followed soon after.We flew for much longer this time, and the afternoon sunlight streaming down the valley as we soared made for a vista that I will surely remember forever. TeamAndrea was much higher than TeamJulian, and we seemed to be struggling to gain height as quickly as they were. "We are too 'eavy" said my instructor Phillipe in his somewhat undiplomatic french way."You must have had a big lunch then" I replied curtly "If I say I´m 10 stone, then I´m 10 stone" and went back to trying to take photos of the valley with my feet in them.At the bottom, Andrea landed first, and lots of local kids were ready to help with packing up the gear, which was quite sweet. She was a little shaky, but had enjoyed it, although perhaps not keen to take me up on my suggestion of learning to paraglide solo. Or do it again ever, for that matter. But we both agreed that it had been a wonderful experience.Our work was done in Merida, bar a trip to the ice cream shop with more flavours than any other in the world (apparently it´s in the Guinness Book of Records). We met up with Adrian, our friend from earlier in the week, and stepped into the record books. They had 3000 or so flavours listed on the wall, but only a few tens of flavours available, so I´m not quite sure how they managed to get that past Norris McWhirter, but they did have some fairly unusual ones like salmon, tuna and shrimp(!?) unsurprisingly looking untouched. Alas, the Viagra flavour was not on today, so I had rose and blackberry, very nice, Andrea had brandy and whisky (verdict - "yuk") and Adrian had some other fruity variety that I can´t remember.We strolled around town a while, drank some coffee, then bade Adrian farewell and caught the bus back to Caracas.
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Antigua, Guatemala

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Roatan, Bay Islands, Honduras

We caught an early morning water taxi out of Livingstone on the Rio Dulce (Sweet River) near the Guatemala/Honduras border. After a fairly sweaty series of buses, and a fairly dodgy border crossing, where we got ripped off about 5 times by various people (to the tune of about 3GBP in total) we made it to La Ceiba, on the Caribbean coast of Honduras. Alas we made it just too late to catch the afternoon ferry to the Bay Islands, so had to spend the night here.Our first taste of Honduras was not an overwhelmingly pleasant one. The countryside was beautiful, as with everywhere in this corner of the world - roads cut through lush rainforest, which periodically opens up to give tantalising glimpses of golden beaches, but the people were less welcoming. In Venezuela, off the gringo tourist trail, we had been an amusing curiosity to many, and people were keen to chat. As we travelled up through Central America, people were more used to seeing tourists, but were still friendly, even if a little overbearing at times with offers of taxis, hotels, tours etc. Here, the reception was noticeably different, what I would describe as a hostile indifference. Also people spoke very quickly, and/or with a very different accent, and we really struggled to understand even the simplest conversations. This was a bit of a blow as in Guatemala we'd begun to feel comfortable speaking in Spanish, and perhaps had been deluding ourselves as to our level of fluency. As a result people lost patience quite quickly, and in restaurants, for example, random plates of food were slapped on our table with minimal ceremony.Despite having seen many around by this stage, I still didn't feel comfortable with the prevalence of guns on display. Like Guatemala, every other shop had an armed security guard on the door, most with discretely holstered pistols, but a sizeable majority brazenly caressing pump action shotguns, with the odd Uzi to be seen. On one of our buses to La Ceiba, I looked up from the book I was reading to see a pickup truck overtake us, and a man sat in the back wearing an IRA-style balaclava, holding what appeared to be an AK-47. The colour drained from my face, and I imagined that we were about to be pulled over and robbed. But no, just a couple of everyday joes on their way to who knows where. I decided not to mention this to Andrea, and went back to my book. One thing I loved about travelling on the buses, was the wave of vendors that washed around us at every stop, selling water, cold drinks, fruit, sandwiches and anything else you could think of. They would tout their wares with tuneful chants, delivered so quickly that it took us a few goes to work out what they were actually saying. Soft drinks are called "refrescos", or "freco" for short, and water is, of course agua, thus the commonest chant was: "freco-freco-freco-freco-freco-freco-freco-agua-agua-agua-freco-freco-freco-agua-agua-agua" whilst holding a basket aloft, sometimes coming on to the bus and going up and down the aisles a couple of times, seemingly without drawing breath. There were various others, but I think my favourite was by the ladies selling fresh prickly lychees who would wail "leechee-leechee-leechee-leechee-leechee-leechee-leechee-leechee-leechee-leechee". Haunting. I can hear it in my mind to this day.We sensed something slightly menacing in the evening atmosphere of La Ceiba's streets after dark, so after a quick dinner, we retreated to our hotel room, and treated ourselves to a 3 hour Friends marathon on satellite TV. Wonderful!The next morning, after a fairly bumpy 3 hour ferry crossing (you wouldn't believe me if I told you the name of the film they were showing, but it had a nautical theme and starred Kate Winslet and Leonardo di Caprio) we arrived in Roatan, the larger of the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras.We caught a taxi to our lodging, a wooden cabin a full 20m from the beach in little village region called the West End. We had realised that after this trip, we might not get the chance to laze on a Caribbean beach very often, so had decided to make the most of it, and thus had allowed ourselves a week of chilling out here, and that after noon, the chilling commenced.Over the next few days, we got up early to ensure maximum lounging around on the beach time, and strived to prioritise our time to allow for afternoon snoozes. The rest of the time, we just relaxed.The weather was lovely, not too hot, and we spent many an evening at a beach bar called Sundowners, an ideal place, as the name suggests, for watching the sun set. We even came 3rd in a quiz night, which we were quite proud of, as most of the other teams featured 5 or 6 regulars. We were just 3: the TeamRees Two aided by an American woman who owned a bar in Belize, but had come here for a few days holiday. I use the word 'aided' generously, as at best she didn't know any answers, and at worst was a bit of a nuisance, eg. for one of the 'arithmetic' questions, (number of players in a netball team plus etc.etc. ...)(insistantly) "there are 52 states in the USA not 50, don't forget Alaska and Hawaii! I should know, I'm from the US..."I managed to do a few scuba dives. The reefs around the Bay Islands are great, the visibility was really good, and it's one of the cheapest places in the world for diving (about $20 US per dive). Banzai! Andrea tried diving but didn't like it much, so instead we did quite a lot of snorkelling together.The island wasn't big, long and thin, about 30km x 5km, and one of our best days was hiring a scooter and exploring, which was really great fun. We both vowed to buy a scooter for commuting purposes when we got home.Then, one evening, something very strange happened.We were walking through the village on our way out to dinner. The evening was mild, and quiet, with only a few people out strolling along the sandy beach road. As we were about 100m from the restaurant, Andrea stopped walking, and was pinching her trouser leg, about half way up the thigh. "Hmm... I think I've got something in my trousers" she said, slightly puzzled, and tried to work it up her leg, thinking it was a piece of tissue. After a couple of seconds, her expression changed from puzzled to concerned to mildly traumatized, and she said "It's moving!" as she stamped up and down to try to shake out whatever it was."WHAT IS IT?!?" she kept saying, now jumping up and down. Out of her trouser leg dropped what looked like a baby sweetcorn, about 4cm long, yellow, tapered at one end. But this was no sweetcorn, it was WRIGGLING!We both stared at it with equal portions of shock and disgust."WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" said Andrea, looking like she was about to be sick. It looked just like a huge worm or severed tentacle, and then, much to the amusement of two passers by, Andrea took her trousers off, to check for any companion Alien invaders.Eventually, after we'd calmed down a little bit, we investigated a little further, and found that it was most likely a tail of something, probably a lizard.We ran through a few scenarios of what could possibly have happened, and the only plausible (if unlikely) explanation we've been able to come up with is that a lizard ran up Andrea's trouser leg as we were walking. When Andrea felt something, she grabbed it by the tail, thinking it was a tissue, at which point the lizard, feeling threatened, detached the tail, and made good it's escape, down the same trouser leg. The tail, due to electrical nerve impulses, continued wriggling for about 30 seconds after detachement.Implausible? Got a better explanation? We're waiting for suggestions...
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