Adult on a Bicycle

"When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race."
-H.G. Wells

I can't remember where I found this quote, but it makes me smile whenever I think about what it means. In a lot of ways, bicycles are toys for children. Not that I agree with that notion, but I think that is what he is getting at. When adults are able to slow down and act like children, it is a sign that everything will be alright.

I'm not sure why, but it just seemed like it was time for me to move on from my Xanga account. Maybe I am just dumb, but it didn't seem like it was all that easy to do what I wanted to with it. Starting from scratch just seemed like the easiest thing to do. You will notice that I have moved over a ton of my old blogs to this new site. I wanted to be able to add photos to go along with a bunch of my old posts, so that is what I have done. Also, I hope to write a bit more frequently than I did with the Xanga. If all goes as planned, Adult on a Bicycle will be more than just a travel blog, but a place for me to write down some thoughts on what is happening with my daily life as well. We'll see how I do with that.

Sunday, March 14, 2010 - Central American Loose Ends

Well, I'm back in the United States. The cold and wet of Spring in the Midwest has greeted me with open arms. For just a moment, though, I want to think back to just over a week ago when the sun was still shining and the temperature was still around 75 degrees. There are just a couple things left to wrap up about my last days in Central America.

Our bus made it back into Honduras without the issues we experienced getting into El Salvador. This was fine with me, as I'm sure that lightning doesn't strike twice when it comes to free beer. The main objective while back in Tegucigalpa was to pick up the rest of Tezra's belongings and for her to say a final goodbye to some other volunteers. It's funny how familiar Tegus had become to me. In some ways, it feels as though it was the hub from which many of my trips left from. I used my time there to get one last coffee at Cafe Americano, and knock McDonald's off the list of fast food from the States which I had yet to...enjoy?

In the name of saving time in transit, we ended up catching a bus that went directly from Tegucigalpa to San Jose. This meant a solid seventeen hours on the bus. Now, we did spring for the King Quality bus line, which gives you food, shows movies that are not pirated, and has more seat room than any vehicle I have ever seen. It's still a damn long ride though. There wasn't too much memorable that happened during it either. I managed to knock the lid of a coffee pot off the pot and splatter hot liquid down the front my pants. Luckily, I misplaced my pride a long time ago, so it didn't really bother me. Besides, there was no time to cry over spilt coffee. Our friend Kat, whom I had stayed with at the very start of my trip, was picking us up!

We spent a final few days in Costa Rica, laying low so to speak as to not spend much money. However, I have mentioned before that Kat works for a school. She was kind enough to let Tezra and I go along on a field trip into one of the low income neighborhoods that some of the students were visiting. I also got to sit in on a presentation she gave on culture shock. Both were fun experiences. Tezra left the day before I did, so I went with her to say goodbye as well as for a "practice run" of getting myself to the airport on public transit. My last night in San Jose was spent with Kat and Anthony. We went out to what you might call the bar district near the university. After eating the largest slices of pizza I have ever laid eyes or hands on, we went across the street where I had a liter of green beer, followed by a liter of purple beer. They both had had Kool-Aid powder added to them. I'd have the lime again, but probably not the grape.

That's basically all she wrote. I was up early the next morning to shower, throw the rest of my things together, and head back to Chicago. Kat saw me off, and I made it to the airport without a hitch. By seven that night, I was back in the United States. Chicago would be my home for a few days as I caught up with friends and prepared for the last bus rides to Minneapolis, and then back to Sioux Falls. As I pulled into the Sioux Falls bus station, I felt good as I grasped the end of a great nine month adventure!

Tezra and I spent about two weeks in Guatemala, but just over 24 hours in El Salvador. Turns out, it was on my birthday! And what a day it was...

Our bus left the station in Guatemala City at 7:30 in the morning. Like so many other travel days, we were up early. I really felt as though my brief time in the city had only shown me parts of town which were quite a bit more updated from how it had been described to me. As a result of the location of this bus station, we got to see a part of town that was much more raw. The streets were full of people and the buildings seemed in need of some serious repair. It wasn't the sort of neighborhood I would have wanted to take a stroll through after dark.

There was a bakery across the street from the terminal, so I had a rather plain muffin for breakfast. Consumption of the coffee looked as though it might be tempting fate, so I stuck with the water we had with us. The bus left basically on time, and I was anxious for the five hour ride to be over so I could eat something of a bit more substance. Well, about an hour into the drive we pulled over to the side of the road and came to a stop in front of a small store. Tezra informed me she had heard the driver say there was something wrong when they shifted gears and he wanted to check it out. We had sat for about an hour when I decided to step off the bus and get some fresh air. Just like anywhere else, a mechanical problem seems to draw a crowd. There were three or four men standing around the engine in the back of the bus, with one covered in grease. I´m going to guess that at least half of those men didn't know the first thing about engine repair, but thought that their advice could be valuable nonetheless.

Two hours after we pulled off to the side of the road, a second bus came by from the same company, and we piled in. It´s funny how one adjusts to the different ways of thinking about time. Tezra and I talked about how back home people would have been furious over a two hour delay. Here it is taken as no big deal by most everyone. I can´t say that the wait bothered me in the least.

This new bus already had passengers on it, and it turned out that there were exactly enough seats for everyone to have one. We ended up in the back of the bus where three people could sit next to the bathroom. After another couple of hours, we finally made it to the border. While waiting to get into El Salvador, or seat mate climbed off the bus and returned a few minutes later with a black bag. He opened it up and pulled out a cold, local beer. I must have been staring at it, because he offered me one from his bag. Then Tezra was offered one. He introduced himself as Ernesto, and we started to small talk. His English was very good, and it came up that it was my birthday. As we were still at the border, he stood up and told us that he was going to go and get more beer.

Ernesto came back with a six-pack, which meant that there were three beers each for us. It was a warm day, and they tasted great. Maybe too good. Mine went down really quickly...along with one Tezra didn't drink. Half an hour out of San Salvador, I sat in the back of the bus with a dumb smile on my face and gratitude that this was how I would remember my 25th birthday.

As we pulled into town, Ernesto made sure that we had an idea of how to get to a hostel from where the bus would drop us off. Once he felt that we understood the directions he was telling us, he jumped up, told us goodbye, and quickly excited the bus. Tezra looked at me and started to laugh. ¨Do you think that guardian angels ever show up bearing beer?¨ She asked me. I wasn't in any state of mind to contemplate such notions.

The rest of the day went quite smoothly. After finding our hostel we got a Frosty at Wendy´s. Then, a few hours later, Tezra treated me to dinner at a Mexican restaurant a short walk from our hostel. It had the best (and loudest) mariachi band that I have ever heard live. Since it was my birthday, we went out for ice cream afterward. Our guidebook told us about a place called Mr. Donut, and I had been wanting to go to one in El Salvador since reading about it. Just our luck, I spied one right next to the ice cream shop. So again, since it was my birthday, we went and had a donut right after ice cream. I slept well in my food coma that night.

There was time for just one sightseeing event the next day, as our bus back to Honduras left at noon. Both of us wanted to make our way to the university to see the Oscar Romero Museum. Oscar Romero was the Catholic Archbishop of El Salvador during the time of the countries civil war. Like many priests, he became an activist for the poor, and spoke out against the government when it became clear that they were killing entire villages just to get one or two people who were suspected of being communist. In the end, he was shot in the head during a church service while preparing communion. He was not the only church worker to be killed, as six Jesuit Priests were also murdered on government orders on the university campus.

The museum is small, with a collection of many of the priests personal things. The clothes they were wearing when they were murdered are also on display. Oscar Romero´s robes and staff are on display, as well as some wonderful artwork. We agreed that is was the most well put together museum that we have seen down here. Tours are run by students, and you also are shown the rose garden that has been planted on the soil where the six priests bodies were found. On top of all of that, the museum is free. I´m glad that so many people have access to it.

From the museum, we made our way on to the bus station and from there to Honduras. Tezra had to pick up the rest of here belongings before we could make it back down to Costa Rica.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010 - More Guatemala

Our story continues in the town of Flores, which is where most people set up who are interested in seeing Tikal. As I mentioned at the end of my last post, we took the overnight bus up from Antigua, and I was fortunate enough that though still a bit unsettled, I was feeling better for the most part. The medicine we picked up at the pharmacy did its job well.

Tikal is one of the great ancient Mayan cities. You will remember that I visited Copan in Honduras. This is the same sort of deal, but only on a much grander scale. Tikal was rediscovered in the early 1880's, and there are some impressive pictures taken then of what the temples looked like before being cleaned of the vegetation that was growing on them. Of course, now the plazas have been completely cleaned up and it is one of the largest tourist spots in all of Guatemala.

This is the one place in Guatemala I really wanted to see before getting into the country. Ruins seem to be a polarizing tourist attraction. You either like them or you don't. I love them. It is just fascinating to me that humans during any time period could build something so grand. The tops of these stone monuments literally stick out above the forest canopy! If you had asked me 48 hours before we actually arrived at Tikal how long I would have wanted to stay there, I would have told you the whole day. Unfortunately, the damp heat of the day along with the fact that I had almost no calories in my body from being sick left me feeling pretty weak and tired after merely an hour. After walking around the Grand Plaza, and climbing a very large staircase to see how the monument tops really do break the tree line, I was in need of getting into the shade. We decided after two hours there that it would be best to head back to our hostel for a bit of food and a nap. If I ever return to Guatemala, I will return to Tikal.

Thankfully, I was hungry that afternoon and the food I ate remained with me through the night and into the morning. In my mind, I declared myself well when I woke up and decided some dairy would be fine for breakfast. No problems there either. This was good because we were headed out on another six hour minibus journey. Our destination this time was a remote ecological wonder called Semuc Champey.

In the indigenous language, Semuc Champey means, "Where the water runs under the land." As the water comes down from the mountains, there is one spot in the limestone deposit where the water has carved its way through the rock and a natural overhang has been formed. The water becomes quite turbulent in this area. However, as the water goes underground, a bit of it remains above and nature has left a series of seven aqua blue pools. This is the draw. The pools are deep enough to swim in, and the fish in them are anxious to check out your toes if you stand still long enough.

I jumped into several of the pools for a swim. The water was crystal clear and much less cold than I thought it would be. It was actually quite comfortable to stay in for awhile. Tezra wasn't feeling well, so she took the photos. Before we left to go back to our hostel, I took a fifteen minute hike up one of the surrounding hills to catch an overhead glimpse of the pools. What a magnificent view! The forest just opens up, and I could see the tiny specks of people swimming in the water below.

After two nights at Semuc Champey, we started to make our way back to Guatemala City so we could head out to El Salvador. There was one last thing to do though. It would be a travesty for a coffee lover like me to leave Central America without touring a coffee farm. The town we were switching buses in had a small scale plantation on its outskirts, and we headed over that way for a tour before the bus left. It was a brief tour, but interesting to see the beans growing and hear a bit about the process. Plus, we were treated to a cup of their coffee at the end of the tour, which was delicious!

That night we stayed in Guatemala City, and left on the morning bus the next day to spend my birthday in San Salvador, El Salvador.

Thursday, February 25, 2010 - A Lot of Guatemala

am sitting here in Coban, Guatemala, waiting for a couple of hours to pass so I can go on a coffee plantation tour with Tezra. It is cold today. I can see my breath, and am wearing a jacket. Not to complain to all of you reading this in the United States, but this seems strange for summertime in Central America.

It seems like a long time since I have last written, and there is much to say. To tell the truth, I was hoping to get this done a few days ago, but first I got violently ill and then once I got better we were staying in a remote part of the country where we did not have internet for a couple days. So here goes what could turn out to be a very long blog.

Tezra and I took the bus up from Honduras last Sunday (about ten days ago). Since we came up through El Salvador, I guess I can now add that to the list of countries I have been to. The journey took a full day, and we got into Guatemala city just as the sun was setting. Lots of people had told us what a hell hole Guatemala City was, but we did not see it. In fact, it seemed much more modern than many other Central American capitols. Our plan for the night was to get out of the city as quickly as possible, so we got off the bus and into a taxi that took us the 40 minutes into Antigua.

Antigua is what many consider the premier colonial city of Central America. It is easy to see why. The cobblestone streets are clean and the buildings well kept. A peek into some of the churches takes one back a few hundred years. The town square is beautiful, filled with park benches, trash cans that actually get used, and a fountain in the center. As a consequence of this, the streets are swarming with tourists, and stores mostly cater to this demographic of people. It seems there are only three businesses in Antigua: restaurants, hotels, and tour agencies.

We ended up staying four nights in the city at a lovely hostel complete with internet, a delicious breakfast, and clean water included in the reasonable price. The showers were hot, which is a huge plus down here. As I had basically been in transit on buses for the three days before getting to Antigua, we took two days to just relax, walk around, and eat some good food. There was even a bagel shop on the corner of the main square! I am not ashamed to admit that I ate a bagel every day that I was in Antigua. In fact, I ate a lot of food in Antigua period. This contributed to a problem that I had later...

Antigua is surrounded by three volcanoes, one of which is active. Climbing the active one, Pacaya, was high on the list of things to do for both Tezra and I. Our third day in Antigua was spent on a tour doing just this. We left at two in the afternoon, spent about an hour and a half driving out to the trail head, and started the hike. We certainly were not the only people with the notion to do this. There must have been at least 70 other people hiking along with us. To start, we climbed a ways up a lush mountainside, stopping every so often to take photos of the mountains surrounding Pacaya and the view of Guatemala City below. Then, all of a sudden, the green stops, and you are faced with nothing but black, hardened, AA lava flows. As your eyes climb the peek, you are greeted at the top by smoke pouring out of the peek.

We walked over these hardened lava flows for about twenty minutes, and were greeted by what I had wanted to see all along: red, flowing lava! Our guide informed us that it was a good day, and as far as I can tell he was right. The cracks in the rock below our feet were glowing, and as we came upon the flow, the heat became intense. Tezra set her coat down on the rock, and after we took a few pictures she picked it up to find that part of the arm melted off! I climbed to the other side of the flow where I got some more great pictures and ate some marshmallows that a few Germans were roasting over the lava. Well, after an hour it was time to leave. We walked back to the transports in the dark, but could see the red glow in the distance whenever we looked behind us.

The next day we headed about three hours north to Lake Atitlan. As it is in the highlands, we gained a lot of elevation, and then seemed to lose almost all of it going into the mountain-rimmed valley that the lake sits in. This may be my favorite place in Guatemala. Our transport dropped us off in the town of San Marcos, about 3000 people. The hostels were all grouped together in what was a very new age, hippie feeling community. We stayed at a place called The Unicorn, and there were paintings of unicorns all over the place. The owner was a bit creepy, but the price was right.

Again, we did a few days of relaxing, but the big event was taking a kayak out on the lake for a few hours our last day there. The sky was clear, the water calm, and the temperature warm. I have decided that paddling is a sport I would like to get into, and I can think of no better place to do it than Lake Atitlan. Only problem was that I thought I would be OK without sunscreen since it was morning and I had a bit of a tan going for me. This ended up being the wrong choice, as by night it was obvious that I had more than a little pink on my body.

Something else interesting happened that night. I mentioned earlier that I was eating a lot. Turns out that when you eat a lot there is something else that you should be doing a lot, and I certainly was not. Well, it all caught up with me, and I got very sick at about 2AM. In fact, I would say that I have never been as sick to my stomach as I was at this moment. It did not help that we had to get up in the morning and travel the three hours back to Antigua, plus get on an overnight bus in the evening. Morning came, and as we were packing up I felt horribly weak and was having doubts if I could make it. Tezra carried my pack for me as it was larger than her own, but as we walked out of the hostel I felt incredibly sick to my stomach. We made it about 50 yards, and I just stopped in front of this restaurant and threw up about five different times on the wall across from it. I will spare you any more details than that, but will say that I felt so much better afterward! A little 7-Up and some other liquids and I was good to go on the bus.

I hate to end on that pretty pictures, time has caught up with me. There is much more to tell about Guatemala, but it will have to wait until the next time I find myself at the internet. We head back to Guatemala City this evening, and on to El Salvador for a quick two days there tomorrow.

Friday, February 12, 2010 - Nicaragua

This past week in Nicaragua has been an absolute blast! I´ve hiked a volcano, spent a few nights on an island, eaten some great food, and slept in some wonderful hostels. But let me be a bit more detailed than that.

The bus arrived at the Managua station as near on time as I can imagine a Central American bus getting anywhere. As usual, I met a few other travelers who were headed the same way as myself, so we shared a taxi to the minibus station right across from the University of Central America. Having been told by several people that Managua was not a city that really had much for tourists, I was keen to head south as soon as possible. These Australians and Norwegians were like-minded. We rode the half hour or so to Granada, an old colonial town, together. One of the Aussies and I struck up a conversation. He was getting a degree in piano performance. I was interested to hear what he was working on.

We arrived after dark and began the mission of finding a place to stay. Our first choice, The Bearded Monkey, only had a mattress on the floor to offer. La Liberdad, just across the way, at least had a bunk. We opted for this crowded hostel with an open courtyard and hammocks.

Granada is certainly a tourist town. Everywhere you look there are white people with packs on their backs and flip-flops on their feet. At times I feel out of place that I don´t own such footwear, except for when Í´m taking a showers down here. Hostels seem to abound, along with people on street corners to change your money for you. And if you want a hot dog, there are just as many vendors around the city here as there might be in Central Park, NYC.

It was a lovely town, but I can´t say that it fascinated me. There were some nice old churches to walk through (I had a conversation with an older gal from Wisconsin there) and the city goes right up to Lake Nicaragua, with an absolutely filthy park one can walk through for a few Cordobas, the Nicaraguan currency. Never in my life have I seem people playing and out enjoying a Sunday afternoon among such garbage. We stopped to buy ice cream and found out why. There doesn't seem to be a single trash bin in the entire park.

I spent two nights in Granada, and come Monday afternoon was more than ready for the four hour ferry ride out into Lake Nicaragua to get to the Island of Ometepe. The island is basically two volcanoes that have come together do to the lava flow which has cooled between them. One of them is active, while the other has been asleep for quite some time.

Again arriving after dark, I got a taxi into the nearest town for the night. Altagracia was just a quick stop though, as I was more interested in getting from the northern end of the island to the southern where the Finca Magdalena Ecological Farm was. This is where I would be staying for the next two days. It was and absolutely wonderful place! The rickety, and I mean rickety, island bus drives you to within a kilometer of the place. After walking up the hill to get the rest of the way there, all of a sudden this beautiful large house shows up along with a few other buildings. Though the rooms are very basic, the setting is absolutely lovely with a huge flower garden out front, view of the lake and the active volcano covered in clouds, and a friendly staff to wait on you. Immediately behind the house is the national preserve for the inactive Maderas Volcano. This is the one that I would be hiking.

My first day there was spent mostly relaxing, getting a good start on John Steinbeck´s East of Eden and meeting a bunch of other backpackers. Some of us made a plan to hike Maderas the next morning, so we were all in bed early for the 7AM start we had set for ourselves. Well, we got started by 8. The trail quickly turned to mud and got pretty steep at a few points. It felt good to make it into the crater where the furry of our earth had given way to forests and a muddy lake. We laid in the sun feeling proud of ourselves for about an hour before heading back down. For better or worse, we took a wrong turn and ended up coming down a completely different way that we went up, but saw something new and were never lost. We even got to walk through a few stands of banana trees!

One of the guys I met is an Australian who is now living in Calgary, Canada. He is driving a Jeep from the Arctic Ocean of Alaska all the way to the southern tip of Argentina. He has been driving for seven months now and has had one hell of an experience, with much more to come. He even has painted a map on the car hood of his jeep showing where he has been. Anyway, a few of us were all going to the same place on the island the next day, so he offered us a ride. Of course we couldn´t refuse. Thank goodness I was with a few people that I liked because this next hostel, though beautiful and right on the lake, was an uptight sort of place. They had more rules than an overbearing parent, and the staff seemed less than friendly. But it was a day for relaxation and that is what I did. Laying on the dock getting some sun and a dip or two in the lake along with more of my book was a fine way to recover from hiking the mountain.

Now I´m back in Managua and waiting for tomorrow morning when I will be up by 3 in the morning to get ready to board the bus going back up to Honduras. I will meet up with Tezra and some of her friends for the night (it is her last day volunteering tomorrow, so there will be a party for the departing volunteers) and we will head out the next day for Guatemala. I´m looking forward to it.

Thursday, February 04, 2010 - Mayan Ruins

I've spent the past few days in Northern Honduras at a place called Copan Ruinas. It´s a town that seems to have been specifically designed to house the tourists, as well as the industries that meet tourist´s needs, who are coming to visit the ancient Mayan city of Copan. The Copan Ruins are a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and in my opinion it doesn't take much time there to figure out why.

It took most of the day to get there from Tegucigalpa, and I didn't arrive until after dark. I actually had about a 20 minute conversation in Spanish with my seat partner, which made me feel good about myself. He was understanding of all my mistakes and told me that speaking was the only way that I would learn. In the end, I must have done OK, because he was the one who kept asking the questions.

I met a British girl named Jenna upon exciting the bus, and we walked up from bus station up into the town together. After dropping our packs in the dorm of the Green Apple Hostel, we went out and had some food, sitting next to a table of Swedish study abroad students. It seems to be pretty universal that females study abroad more than males, as there was not a single male student in their group. Jenna and I ended up having a lot in common, and conversation flowed easily from one subject to another. She had been a corporate lawyer for several years before deciding to backpack for a year. Her ultimate goal was to make it to Cambodia to volunteer doing human rights law for several months. We would spend the majority of the next two days together touring, eating, and getting to know other backpackers.

After a good nights sleep and morning cup of coffee, we set out for the short walk to the actual Copan archaeological site. Not knowing much about this place before arriving, I was absolutely blown away! There were so many ancient structures, temples, steleas, and reliefs all over the manicured grounds. It is hard to even know where to start explaining everything that we saw. The temples are basically built like step pyramids, but the lawn is covered with statues that were commissioned by the Mayan rulers (with funny names like 18 Rabbit). There are also tunnels that have been excavated, and they are finding temples under temples, some of which are still standing. Maybe it is because it is so fresh, but I was more impressed with this sight than with the Pyramids of Egypt. Or maybe it is because the sight is so large, and I wasn't having to fight off people trying to sell me things. The guards just left you alone!

The following day was filled with nothing in particular. Some really great Canadians and a German man who had been working as a medical student in Guatemala City moved into the dorm. We all hit it off and ended up cooking supper together. We also had a good joke of all five of us being basically six feet tall or more. In a place where most people are shorter, we felt like a tour group of giants going around buying or supplies for that evening.

After a full day on the bus, I am now back in Tegus. Tezra will meet up with me tomorrow for a day, and then Saturday it is off to Nicaragua for a full week!

Saturday, January 30, 2010 - NPH in Honduras

Nuestros Pequenos Hermanos (Our Little Brothers and Sisters). That's the name of the organization my friend Tezra works for. NPH owns a 2,000 acre ranch where about 500 kids, ranging from newborns to those just leaving high school, live full time. There is even a school on site the kids attend and volunteers like Tezra teach at. They are here for different reasons. Some have come from the state-run orphanage. Others were born into families that had so many children already they just couldn't support another. And some have lost a parent, never known their parents, or been victims of abuse. The kids are sponsored, and the ranch is supported, by a whole host of international donors.

After a two days bus journey, with a night's rest in Nicaragua, I made it to the Honduran capitol city of Tegucigalpa (or, as the locals call it, "Tegus"). Having not seen my friend in what I believe is nearing two years, I was pretty overjoyed to see her when I stepped off the bus. It was her weekend off and she was in town with some of the other ranch volunteers to both enjoy the weekend and pick up some gifts for people back home. We had a good night in the city, eating pupusas and watching the Honduras/USA soccer game at a restaurant close to our hostel. Honduras won, which doesn't hurt me too badly. As both teams have secured their spots in the World Cup to take place in South Africa this year, there was much less tension in the air than I initially expected. We had a drunk neighbor at the table next to us who let us know quite bluntly that he did not like the U.S. though. I didn't feel for him when he was asked to leave.

We left for the NPH ranch the following afternoon, and I must admit I was anxious to see if the picture created in my mind from conversations with Tezra would be the reality of things or not. The physical landscape is definitely different than I was expecting. There are pines with moss hanging from a few of the branches, instead of the more tropical variety of tree that I had anticipated. However, the buildings and construction of the place is more or less what I was expecting. The school building, hogars (homes) where the kids live in family units, volunteer houses, and visitors rooms are made of brick or concrete and centered around a courtyard where community and life can play out. Meals are brought from the main kitchen to the various groups of hogars in coolers and distributed to the kids in the communal dining rooms. There are basketball courts, a field to play soccer, and a little store where the kids can buy things like soda. Before coming here I had envisioned a place that felt like camp. This image has largely been confirmed, but I have to remember that this is where these kids are living out their lives and not just coming for a week getaway.

I have to admit this is a pretty sweet place, and my time here has been a mix of relaxation and fun. I've fallen into what I find a quite enjoyable routine. The morning is mostly time for hanging out in the almost monastic visitor quarters, drinking coffee and reading. At lunch time I join Tezra and the hogar of girls she works with for lunch and some afternoon play. Around five I play a fairly unorganized basketball game with some of the other volunteers and many of the high school kids. In the evening I hang out either reading again where the visitors stay or go to where the volunteers live to chat a bit. But it hasn't all gone down just like this. Once a month, the kids whose birthdays fall within that month get to climb onto one of the NPH buses and head into the capitol for lunch at Pizza Hut and a couple of hours to venture around the square and buy some birthday gifts for themselves with money the ranch gives each of them. Wouldn't you know it, that day was last Tuesday. I don't even have a January birthday and I still got to go! Tezra informed me that most of the kids would use their money to buy food. She was right. I joked with her that the kids would be walking around with sugar highs for a couple of days. She told me that this actually would not be the case, as most of the kids would get back and share their purchases with the others they live with. I think that's pretty cool.

Friday, January 22, 2010 - Cahuita

In a couple of hours I will be leaving for Honduras, but wanted to write a quick blog before going about my time Cahuita. It´s the sort of town where, to use cliche travel guide terms, one could spend a day or lifetime, and you can sit on the beach and let life pass you by. The bus ride out from San Jose takes about three and a half hours, and passes through tropical rain forest as well as banana plantations closer to the coast. The town itself is home to mostly Afro-Caribbean people, though it seems like a few expats actually have decided to stay a lifetime, such as the French fellow who rides his bike around selling homemade bakery items from a basket attached over the rear tire.

I ended up rooming with an Israeli whom I met after getting off the bus in the city. It is a great example of how you sometimes decide to quickly trust people while traveling for the sake of saving a little bit of money. Our hostel was simple, and certainly not sitting on the beach, but we did have a hammock and some great neighbors.

We arrived an hour or so before dark, so there really wasn't time enough for a good look around the beach. Instead, my roommate and I went and ate Casada, a traditional Tico (what Costa Ricans call themselves) dish. It´s rice and beans, a piece of chicken, fish, or whatever type of meat, and salad. It sounds simple enough, but done right is more than satisfying. A few beers at the only bar in town, Coco´s, shared with a couple others and I was ready to call it a night.

I was up fairly early, and ready for a full day. The Cahuita National Park entrance is in the town of Cahuita, making it a convenient and popular day hike for most all who go to visit. The trail runs a good nine kilometers, most all of it skirting the white sand beaches, lined with palm trees and blue water. We of course took time to sit on the beach and take a dip, but some of the real fun of the day was found in watching the various wildlife the park works to protect. Howler monkeys, sloths, blue and hermit crab, iguana, and large colonies of some very busy ants. Though spotting the larger mammals was a treat, I found it much more exciting to see all that was going on right at my feet.

There is certainly more to be said about Cahuita, but time has gotten away from me and I´ll have to cut this one short.

Sunday, January 17, 2010 - Into Central America

After a relaxing three-week Christmas intermission from what I prefer to consider my "real life", I'm happy to be back on the road and finding myself among friends in Central America! As is always the case, the tickets out of Chicago were miles cheaper than flying out of Sioux Falls, so I bused it up to Minneapolis for a relaxing night with my friends Aaron and Kristen, and then on to Chicago for two nights with Libby and Brian. It is funny to note here that the only problem in getting from Sioux Falls to San Jose, Costa Rica (where I now am) happened in the Sioux Falls bus terminal parking lot. The bus had moved about 20 feet when it got it's back tires stuck on ice. We sat there for about an hour and a half, blocking the road, waiting for ACE towing. Luckily none of the passengers went too crazy, and I certainly didn't care since Aaron said my being late was more convenient for them to get me in Downtown Minneapolis anyway. I would also like to note here that Libby and Brian joked that when I come through town it is like a mini-vacation for them (mostly because we eat a big meal out and then get ice cream, coming home stuffed). It makes me feel like a Good Samaritan to bring joy to others like that by simply doing what I like to do. Of course, I'm exaggerating.

I've been in Costa Rica since Thursday night, with all that time spent in San Jose. This is a very comfortable city for me to be in. Initially, it reminds me of Windhoek, Namibia. We are surrounded by hills, one of which is a sleeping volcano! The buildings are bright, and though there are far fewer shantytowns than Windhoek, driving around feels familiar. The one thing out of place is the amount of American fast food. There are so many Burger Kings, McDonald's, Pizza Hut, etc, etc. I'm almost ashamed to say, but I have eaten at both Burger King and Taco Bell in the three days I have been here. However, I am proud to say that I have eaten things on the Taco Bell menu that my brother never has, as they are not served in the USA. But really, if you ask me, we should have "Nacho Steak Fries" back home.

My friend Kat, whom I'm staying with, lives in an apartment attached to he school here she works for. I must admit that I would love to have this sort of living situation. Her backyard is covered in palm trees and tropical plants. When the students are gone on the weekend and the evening, it feels like living in a large retreat center. I'm sleeping on a small couch with a chair at the end and a stack of books so that my legs have something to support them from the knees on down. On weekdays, coffee is made and ready in the pot by the school cleaning lady, and I enjoy it on the apartment patio. My living situation right now seems like it couldn't be more ideal!

On Friday morning I was up and into San Jose. While the city itself contains about 300,000 people, the entire central valley where it is located holds a few million. Kat lives in an area known as Curridabat, so I had to take the bus. My main goal for the day was to walk the central pedestrian market and go to the Museo Nacional. The heat of the day seemed foreign after being in subzero South Dakota, and the humidity seemed even more foreign after being in Egypt. A day in the museum was going to be welcome. I'll admit here that I don't know much about Costa Rican history, but I found it interesting. A rich pre-Comumbian story of natives developing complex societies followed by conquistadors, coffee, bananas, railroads, and much more.

The central avenue did not impress me all that much. For one, I was not in the market for new clothing, and beyond food that seemed to be all that there was. This is also where you are really slapped in the face with U.S. fast food. I had no idea that Quiznos and Wendy's had gone global! There were lots of people, and a fair amount of tourists as well. I spent less time here and more time in the parks on the surrounding streets.

Friday evening Kat's boyfriend came out with us for sushi, where his sister works as a chef. My first thought was, "won't this be funny to be eating sushi in Costa Rica!" But then I realized that it is no more native to, or ridiculous, than eating it in the United States. The food was wonderful (much of which was given to us free of charge) and so was the conversation. As I sat talking with Anthony, I became amazed at how well he spoke English having never lived abroad. It really gave me hope that with some hard work, I too could achieve a high level of competence in Spanish with some serious study in the U.S.

Saturday brought a hike into the hills which surround the valley. Anthony is a mountain biker, and he took us on trails where he normally bikes. We got a full view of all of San Jose, as well as the volcano whose base the city is located at. What I also loved about this hike was how there was coffee being grown up and down the hills along the trail. Many of the beans were ripe and waiting to be picked. We pulled a bean and I ate the fruit off. It became obvious why coffee beans are cleaned of the fruit and then dried and roasted: it didn't taste very good. Like eating a crab apple almost. The plants looked beautiful (though, when you love coffee like I do, you bring a biased opinion to the table).

On Sunday Kat took me to a poor Nicaraguan community to go to church with a congregation she has been working with. Nicaraguans come to Costa Rica to work as migrant laborers or do other low paying jobs. The way it has been described to me is they are often mistrusted and treated as second-class citizens. This community was living the way so many people in the world do in tin-roof shacks or small concrete homes. But, again like so many people in the world living in these conditions, they were friendly and welcoming. A small congregation where everyone knew everyone, the sermon was told while children walked about the church and prayers were said with everyone holding hands.

That afternoon we went to a soccer game. I'm not an avid sports fan for any sport, and soccer certainly is not something I spend back home watching. However, it was a wonderful cultural experience, and I really enjoyed watching. The field sat at the base of a coffee hill, and the sun was bright and warm. You really couldn't ask for too much else.

Thursday, December 24, 2009 - The Sinai

A trip out to the Sinai takes about nine hours by bus from the station in Cairo. Jon and I rode out on the overnight to the resort town of Dahab. To give you a little geography, Dahab sits on the eastern coast of the Sinai, right on the Gulf of Aqaba in the Red Sea. If you are sitting on the beach and look across the water, you can wave hello to Saudi Arabia. Anyway, we arrived at about 9 in the morning ready for sleep, hiking, snorkeling, and a good bit of sitting on the beach soaking up the sun.

After checking into our simple room at the Auski Camp (literally two beds and one little end table in a white room with no windows and peeling paint - but at $3 a night, who could refuse?) we hit the sun soaked beach with some snorkel gear. I do believe that the last time I had a snorkel on was between my freshman and sophomore year at Valpo while in Brazil. It certainly showed that it is not an activity that I am normally engaged in. I was continually drinking in little bits of salt water and having to come up for air. In my defense, it was a very windy day and the sea was quite choppy. It was a good time though. There were a lot of people out exploring the reef which lies just off the coast, and it was beautiful to be literally swimming with the fishes.

After a very good nights sleep, Jon and I were up earlier than we had been in a while to get on the shuttle taking us out to hike Mt. Sinai! This is one of the few things that I knew I wanted to do in Egypt before leaving, and I was thrilled to finally get to cross it off my list. The trip takes about 2 hours from Dahab to the base of the mountain. Part of the length is due to the number of security checkpoints that all the traffic has to go through as a result of the terrorism in the Sinai a few years back (don't worry, nothing happened the day that we were there). At the base of the mountain lies St. Catherine's Monastery. It looks like a fortress from the outside, and I hear they used to be attacked from time to time. St. Catherine's also claims to house the actual bush that God set ablaze to talk to Moses. Sorry to say, but I'm not buying it. But it is a beautiful place with a lot of history.

To hike the mountain you have to take a "guide" with you, which is a complete joke. Our guide did nothing but slow us down, make us take frequent breaks, and walk in front of us on a trail that Larry King could follow with his glasses off. However, it is good for job creation for the Bedouin people who live in the area, so I can support it for that reason. And part of the reason it felt like we were standing still at times was because Jon and a I were used to busting out the miles from out time in Turkey. Being with the group did help me take in the scenery more than I would have on my own. The view from the top really is beautiful. It is also freezing! I was really wishing that I had brought warmer foot gear with me than just sandals. We got down just as the sun was fully over the horizon, and I was glad to sit in a warm cafe at the base for a while, talking politics with a French fellow.

The following day was one to remember. I had signed up two days earlier to get up at 4:30 in the morning and take a full day trip into Jordan to visit Petra. We were to drive North to the ferry which goes across the sea, get off in Jordan, drive into the desert, and see this ancient wonder getting back around midnight. Instead, I got a nice ride up the coast, but that was about it. I was ready to go at 5, and picked up at 5:45, but there seemed to be a bit of confusion as to why I was getting into the shuttle. After talking on the phone briefly with a tour director though, it seemed I was cleared to go. We drove over an hour up the coast to Nuweiba where the ferry was. A man came up to the passenger door and passed around a sheet that had a number by our names we were to put on our customs card. The tour company was supposed to send our passport information several days early so we could get fast-tracked into the country. Well, guess who wasn't on the list?

I checked twice, and then had the driver look for me. Nothing. The man with the sheet just said "If you are not on the list, you can't go" and walked away as if it was no big deal. Well, I got out of the vehicle and followed him asking him if there was another list, to which he said there wasn't. The drive came out and told me to talk to Mohamed in the tourist processing building, so I went looking for him. The only person I found to help was the same guy, who again told me that I could not go. All I could do was go back to Dahab and see what was going on.

Now, to be honest, I had shelled out some serious coin to take this day trip, and my first thoughts were how to go about ensuring that I got it all back. Though I had wanted to go, my alternative for the day was to sit in the 75+ degree weather and relax, which was something I could live with. But if the travel company was going to try to spin it as my fault, I was going to be furious! The driver stopped half way back to eat breakfast and smoke baksheesh, which didn't help to calm me down. I just sat there sipping my tea thinking about how I might really have to stand up for myself once I got back. Well Alhamdulillah (which mean "praise God" in Arabic, and is a phrase seemingly used every-other sentence) because the travel company admitted to me that they had forgotten to send my passport info along and gave me a full refund without any hassle! And thankfully, some of the friends I had made walking up Mt. Sinai were still around, so I was able to sit around talking with them for much of the rest of the day. Some of them had been to Petra before, and said you really need much more time than a three hour tour to experience it, so I guess I'll hit it on my next trip to the Middle East.

My bus to Cairo left the following day at 12:30 in the afternoon. Jon had left mid-morning the day before to get some things in order before heading home shortly after I would. I myself was down to less than 48 hours in the country. Going to Sinai had been the perfect way to cap off the trip!

Tuesday, December 22, 2009 - Back to Cairo

One of the interesting things about my trip to Egypt is that it feels like this hybrid between backpacking and living in a place. Jon and I had this discussion one very late night sitting on his roof over a hookah. If anyone were to ever ask me the places I had lived in, I would never include Cairo on that list. However, I am most certainly living a more "normal" life here than a backpacker rolling through town would. This may best be shown in the way the week returning to Cairo went.

I have to admit that some people may think that for being in such a foreign place I was just wasting my time. As I had already done most all of the tourist activities in the city which I wanted to do, the week went by much as you might imagine it would for an unemployed fellow with the ambitions to just enjoy himself. We would wake up, make some instant coffee (as it was all that was available to us) and usually sit on the roof in the sun for a couple of hours reading and getting tan. Then, maybe we would get some food and wander over to the cafe where the wireless internet was free and spend a few hours there. If the day was right, we would get on the metro in the evening and head out to the Maadi suburb to play ultimate frisbee with some of our friends. Or, maybe we would walk down to the Makan and hear a concert.

My night life was certainly healthier than it ever has been. Jon was known for throwing great rooftop parties, and as it was his last week there were several. Actually, I believe there was only one night of of the entire week that I was in bed before 4AM. Anyway, Jon had a group of friends who would come over to play music, and we would just sit out by the fire (yep, the fire on his roof) and play harmonica, guitar, drums, mandolin, and udt. And of course, there was the horrible singing from the rest of us on songs ranging from Frank Sinatra to the Eric Clapton to John Denver. If people were still there, it seems that the predawn call to prayer coming from the various mosques was usually a good sign that it was time to start ending things.

Hmmm...maybe not such a "normal" week after all...but the next post on going to the Sinai should prove a bit more interesting.

Saturday, December 12, 2009 - Turkey Leftovers

I've been back in Cairo now for about five days, but thought that I would write a few more stories of how we finished up our time in Turkey.

As you know we skipped out on the last part of the trail opting to spend a few extra days in Antalya, a city located right on the sea. What a beautiful place to kill some time! Our hostel was located in the old city of Antalya, complete with cobblestone streets, and city walls. It is certainly an area catering to tourists, because it has basically been converted to all quaint hotels, markets, and shops. Though we were staying there past the end of tourist season, we were surprised at how dead the place became, especially once the sun went down. There would be a tour group here and there during the day, but it really made me wonder how much money these shopkeepers had to take in during the months of high tourism to keep their doors open.

I can't say that we did anything extra special while here. Most days were spent reading, drinking tea and instant coffee (which is all you can really find in a cafe that isn't a Starbucks or other chain) and eating. I should comment on the restaurants in Turkey. First off, I thought the food was great! Turkish pizza or a chicken kebab sandwich were a staple of my time in the city. But finding a restaurant can be stressful if you don't know exactly what you want. Imagine a row of restaurants on the level of Perkins/IHop, and each one has a man standing outside their doors. You walk by and even without making eye contact, you are approached and an attempt is made to direct you in. "Hello, you want kebab, chips, chicken?" they ask. After kindly thanking them you take a few more steps where you are accosted in the same way at the next restaurant. This time you thank the person less kindly, because it is only the second restaurant in a row of five and the exact same thing is going to happen at the next one. And you had better not take too much time standing outside any one restaurant, because then you will have two people from competing restaurants standing there in what feels like a bidding war for your business. Luckily, I found a place early on that I liked and just headed there.

Our last day in Turkey was spent in Istanbul, and we really didn't see too many of the sites there before it was time to leave. The domestic flights in Turkey do not fly into the same airport as the one we were in on our way over from Egypt, so it took a bit of time to navigate our way into the city (the domestic airport is east of Istanbul). Upon getting in we found our hostel, which was a real treat as it had a wonderful view of the Haggia Sophia from the rooftop dormitory we were staying in. After dumping our stuff we took off down the street to see the famous Blue Mosque and explore a bit. We had an angering experience with a shoe shiner, ate a great meal for half the price it was worth, and went to bed with some anticipation of getting back to Cairo the next day.

Overall I found Turkey a wonderful country, and one that I would love to return to someday to see more of the sites, and maybe even finish the last 100km of the Lycian Way.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009 - Characters

One of the great joys of being abroad is meeting the people of the country you are visiting. This is, at times, made even more of an adventure when you only speak a few words of the same language. As I have mentioned in other posts, Jon and I have been overwhelmed by the people we have met and their kindness. I can think of many instances of hospitality that I wish I could repay. But there are a few people who stick out in my mind for other reasons. They certainly may have shown us brotherly love, but they also surprised us, put us on edge, or made us laugh with their animation as individuals.

There was the old woman who lived with her family helping to run the hostel in Finike. Or maybe the word "helped" is a bit strong. The only thing I actually saw her do was chain smoke (and I mean chain smoke in every sense of the word), drink tea, and hiss at cats that tried to get into the kitchen. One morning she offered me tea by banging on the table she was sitting at until I looked over at her and then threw her arm towards the kitchen saying "Chay" in the deep voice that comes from years of tobacco use. I imagine her as the gruffest old woman I have ever come across. If there was ever a reason on this trip that I wish I spoke Turkish it would be to talk to her.

Then there was the man who desperately wanted Jon and I to stay at his hostel. We were exploring some ruins as the sun was starting to go down, and a bit confused as to where the trail was supposed to be leading us. Then enter this particular dude; probably 40 years old wearing a wife-beater undershirt, army camo pants, and sporting gold teeth and a glass eye. He may have been a nice guy, but his look just screamed "I don`t want to go anywhere with you". Anyway, he kept inviting us to stay at his hostel where he had tea for us. We kindly declined as we were set for camping that night, but the guy would not let it go. We must have told him thanks but no thanks seven or eight times. He finally left, but then drove by in his car and asked us a few more times. When hospitality gets as pushy as that, it can certainly make you uncomfortable.

Finally, there is Ali. We met Ali our first night here in Antalya. He owns an open-air cafe in the Old Town where we are staying. Jon and I had walked past his place earlier that day and he had tried to draw us in (which is something all the restaurant owners do and gets quite annoying). But on our way back from dinner we decided to stop for a coffee. In broken English he introduced himself to us and asked us our names. We immediately felt at ease with him. The best way to describe Ali is to think Charlie Chaplin. I feel as though all of his movements are over exaggerated as if he had no words to express himself and were trying to do it all with body language. His kind smile and laugh really round off the reasons we find him so likable.

Tuesday, December 08, 2009 - Finishing the Trail

OK, the title of this may be a bit misleading. Jon and I actually did not finish walking all 509km of the Lycian Way. Instead, we walked about 409km of it (just a few miles over 250). We made it to the ancient ruins of the city Olympus. If you don`t count our two rest days, we were out for two full weeks walking. That is nearly 18 miles per day. You may be wondering why we didn't just buck it up and finish the thing. Well, there are a couple of reasons I suppose;

1) Once we hit Finike for Thanksgiving, our perception of the trek changed. For me, it moved from working hard to bust out a ton of miles each day to something more resembling two guys out on a camping trip. Our notion of what a good day walking would be dropped in mileage, and we were both content to take it a lot easier.

2) After walking 250 miles with a lot of weight on your back, your body gets a little soar (all over). We both thought we could use a much more "extended" break.

3) Finishing the trail would have meant very little time to see anything urban in Turkey, and there were definitely some places we wanted to visit (and relax in).

4) Come on, are you really going to fault us for ONLY having hiked 250 miles? A bit harsh, don`t you think?

Anyway, we are both feeling good about what we accomplished. And we learned a few things along the way. For one, even if the entire trail is marked by red and white paint, bringing a map with you is still a good idea (we bought one five days into the walk). Or, even if you have decided to not ride in a motor vehicle, if the police stop you after dark and tell you to get in for a ride, you don`t refuse. Most importantly though, we learned how dependable Turkish hospitality is. Yes we learned this one many times over.

Friday, November 27, 2009 - Giving Thanks

For those of you reading this in the Midwest, you may know that trekking in Turkey Jon and I are eight hours ahead of you. That means that while you were catching some sleep before waking up to Thanksgiving and all the wonderful food and family it would bring, Jon and I were walking the trail and talking about all the food and family we would not be tasting or seeing. Not that we don't love our family, but food definitely won out as far as quantity of talk time. It seems that when you are walking from literally sun up until after dark as we did yesterday, it may be expected that the conversation would drift to caloric consumption.

İ started it off by talking about all the food I could not wait to eat while home for a bit around Christmas. Cracker Barrel, Culver's eggnog malts, Honey Nut Cheerios (which is something I have never craved before)...they all sounded so wonderful as we made the largest elevation gain of the whole trip over the morning hours. We were keenly aware of what was going on back home though, and the conversation inevitably turned to traditional foods of this American holiday. Turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, pie of all sorts, etc, etc (foods that for many of you will be haunting your kitchen as leftovers for days to come). Oh, what a joy it would be to taste any of these things right now!

Of course, it was not in the cards for us to have a traditional meal, but Jon and I are thankful to have made yesterday the hardest fought day of our trip so far and made it to the coastal town of Finike around 7pm so that we could check our aching feet and muscles into a cheap hostel and eat a Turkish Thanksgiving feast all our own. Two huge salads, several loaves of bread, a Turkish pizza, chicken casserole, a big plate of kebabs and a cold beer each was our wonderful late night meal! Looking for ice cream bars but coming up short, we polished things off with a packet of cheap convenience store cookies to take the place of pie.

Now we have a good rest day under our belt and will be heading out tomorrow. Tomorrow marks day fourteen of our walk, and we are basically down to the last 5 days. We have moved nearly 175 miles thus far. Though we now do not plan to finish the whole thing, we should be making around 250 miles by the end if things continue to go well. As cliche as it will sound, I thought I would write down the mental list I made in my head yesterday of the things I am thankful for over the coarse of the past two weeks:

-Safe flights getting into both Egypt and Turkey
-A friend like Jon to travel with as we get along with almost no problems
-A body that, save the aches and pains expected with a trek like this, has held up amazingly well
-The great weather (it has not rained once since getting here)
-The amazing hospitality of the strangers we have run into while passing by their farms and through their towns - and I want to say a bit more about this one to illustrate what I am talking about.

On day seven of our trip we woke up and walked about two miles into a town called Gokchoren. Our map told us that there was a market there where we could buy food, and we were counting on it as we were down to two apples (which had been given to us for free by a man the day before) and what amounted to a few slices of cheese. As we got into town, we flagged down a passing car and communicated what we were looking for to the middle-aged man in the drivers seat. He told us in broken English that there was no market. We must have looked crushed as he then reached into the back seat and handed us a loaf of bread! We thanked him many times and he drove off.
Our conversation turned to how we would be very hungry but could walk a day on the little food we had now that we had this loaf to split. However we still needed to find someone who would let us fill our water bottles. As we continued to walk down the road, a boy came out to the end of his driveway. He greeted us and invited us into his mothers home for breakfast, without knowing how much we could use the food. We accepted and were welcomed in where they filled our water bottles and sat us down for fresh goat cheese, olives, homemade bread, jams, eggs, and tea. We communicated the best we could but I like to think they understood how grateful we were. We payed them for the meal and they let us take more bread as well as olives and some goat cheese with us.

We walked over 30km that day and by the end were hoping to pass a place where we could buy a soda to enjoy after a long days walk. As we neared a place we thought might have a market, I approached a man chopping wood in his yard. I asked about a market and he informed me again that there was no market. He then asked me what I was looking for. I said Coca Cola. He stood silent for a second, and then motioned for me to wait. The man called for his wife and she came out with a half-gone two liter bottle of the stuff. After taking the bottle from her, the man poured himself a small glass and then handed me the rest of the bottle and motioned for me to take it.

That night, sitting around the fire, Jon and I ate a meal that was composed completely on the kindness of the strangers we had met along the way that day. Blessings like this have been an almost daily occurrence in our lives since heading out. Yes, yesterday I was especially thankful for the kindness and giving spirit of the Turkish people.