Dotty and Lulu Take on Nicaragua!

I entered Nicaragua full of excitement and energy - more so than normal - for a couple of reasons. The first was simply due to my attraction to the country - I had always felt an inexplicable pull towards Nicaragua, as if something inside of me was gravitating towards it. I never really understood why - it could perhaps be due to its revolutionary history, the international significance it has aquired in the last couple of decades, the dozens of volcanoes scattered throughout the land, or just the temptation of that big lake in the middle - whatever it was, something was pulling me to Nicaragua.

But that aside, there was another, more important and more personal reason for my anticipation. My best friend from my days in Guatemala, Luke, or Lulu as I like to call him (and he in return only refers to me as Dotty, my Yoga House name), was passing through as he makes his way to Colombia by bike, and we had made plans to meet up, and take the country by storm together. With the two of us, adventure, and definitely mischief, are never far away and I was tripping over myself with excitement to see him, and see what we would get ourselves into.

Logistically, we knew things would be a bit difficult, what with him traveling by bike and myself on foot/bus/horse/tractor - you name it (pretty much everything but bike). But in all reality, it was nothing that we couldn´t figure out, and so we set the meeting place for León, Nicaragua´s second city.  León has the privelage of boasting both a strong, colonial heritage and a large university student population, making it a thriving, young, and exciting city. It is also, and has always been, a strong Sandanista heartland, contributing to its interesting dynamic, and for me, its appeal. Not only is it absolutely gorgeous (it has the largest church in Central America) but it´s also very Nicaraguan and doesn´t feel overladen with tourists. All of this combines to make a fascinating mix and a wonderful place to visit....or perhaps live???

The choice to meet up in León wasn´t random - a few days earlier, while chatting it up with some Nicas on the street, I found out that soon approaching was one of the biggest fiestas of the year - the Día de la Purísma Concepción (the Day of the Pure/Holy Conception) - and the biggest party of them all was in León. Never shy to get involved in some good old fashioned Latina fiesta-ing, it seemed like the perfect way for us to reunite.

Just hours before the festivities began, as we were aimlessly wandering the streets, we randomly ran into my couchsurfing hosts from a few nights before in the north of the country. Rudy, the hombre of the pair, is originally from León, and they too had come to the city to get in on the fun. They invited us to come to Rudy´s home, in a poorer part of the city, to celebrate with them and get to see a more realistic, Leónese version of the activities. Of course we followed them straight there.

In describing the Purísma, it´s best to imagine it as Nicaragua´s version of Halloween, with a Catholic spin. Starting at exactly 6pm in the evening (for once Central Americans are on time for something!) groups wander through the streets, stopping at each and every house displaying an alter out front, and yell out, ¨¿Quien causa tanta alegría?¨ (¨Who causes so much happiness?¨), to which someone from inside replies, ¨¡la concepción de María!¨ (¨The conception of Mary!¨). And then follows the best part - they proceed to give you candy, matches, lighters, or any other little gift you can imagine.

Wanting to get in on as much of the action as possible, we assumed both roles - the gift giver, and the receiver- with much vigor. And it was in both capacities that we definitely shocked the hell out of Rudy´s neighbours, who upon seeing two gringos at the doorstep of his humble home, would usually turn away - at which point we would have to yell out, ¨aquí! Tenemos!¨ (Here! We have some!) The night was definitely a blast and we had a great time, and aquired not only a lot of candy, but other useful items too (toothbrushes, hair elastics....).

From León we were headed to a finca in the Masaya region, but as Luke couldn´t cover the whole distance in one day, we had to find a spot in the middle to crash for the night. Using Google Earth we found a tiny little lake (in a country of maaaaany lakes) that seemed just right for our purposes - it appeared calm, peaceful, and devoid of any real development in the surrounding area, meaning we could probably camp there for the night before moving on to the finca. However, as we found out when we got there, camping is strictly prohibited, and few exceptions are made - especially not on our behalf. Not really ones to seek permission to do anything, we decided we would simply make ourselves as inconspicuous as we could (I guess you could use the word ´hiding´) until the security guards left, and then set up camp for the night, and be on our way in the morning, no one any the wiser. Luckily, such measures weren´t necessary, as as we were scouting out a location to be inconspicuous, the owner of a lakeside restaurant spotted us, and not wanting us to spend the night outside alone, offered us his establishment as a place to sleep. He turned out to be an extremely friendly and chatty man, who was incredibly excited about his upcoming trip to Canada, to visit his daughter who lives there. He was so excited that I didn´t have the heart to tell him that his dream of shooting a deer probably wasn´t going to happen in the middle of winter, nor did I think the government of Nicaragua would let him bring the carcass back in the country even if by some miracle it did.

Next, we found ourselves as the privelaged guests on the finca of Don Jorge - such a beautiful and tranquilo place that we ended up spending a few extra days than originally planned. From the gates of his finca we hiked to the mighty, and very active, volcán Masaya - described by the Spaniards as the gates of hell - and easy to understand why, as it omits massive amounts of smoke and the sulphur can be smelt from very far away. We set out for our hike without a map, or any real sense of direction except for the view of the beast and the idea that we wanted to go ´that way´. We got lost, but eventually found ourselves emerging at the edge of the crater, coming from the area cordoned off by a ¨Peligro! No hay paso!¨ sign. (Danger! No entry!)

As the time came closer to when Luke would eventually have to start making headway into Costa Rica, we decided to spend the last bit of time together on little Isla de Ometepe, the majestic island composed of two towering volcanoes rising out of Lake Nicaragua. To really make the most of our last day together, I rented a bike and we set to exploring the island - finding delicious homemade dark chocolate (the first chocolate I had eaten in AGES) and a nice waterfall on the way. At the bottom of the cascade we sat, enjoying a deep conversation and reflecting on all that had happened not only in the last 11 days together, but in the last 6 months we had got to know each other, and on what was yet to come in both of our lives. When he finally had to leave, and I wished him ¨Que te vaya bien¨ surprisingly, it wasn´t a sad goodbye. On the contrary, I felt very excited for him and what is coming down the road for him - and what´s coming for me as well.

(Unfortunately the computer I´m using won´t recognize my camera so I can´t post any photos - I´ll add some later when I find a friendlier machine).

So much more than a couch

I`m really lucky. Why? Because I get to live and travel through a different, exotic and exciting part of the world? Well, yes, for that I´m lucky, but I`m really lucky because I get to meet incredible people and have insightful and meaningful cultural and personal experiences. How do I do this? I open myself up, stay with people and enter their home with the most open mind I can - in other words, I couchsurf.

I stayed with Alex and his beautiful family in the city of Santa Barbara, in western Honduras. I never would have even thought of visiting that part of the country had it not been for the recommendation of another couchsurfer - but the recommendation wasn´t for the community, it was for Alex. He really embodies the whole spirit of couchsurfing - not only did he open up his home to me and make me feel so welcome, but he went to all odds to show me his country and his culture. For 3 crazy days he shuttled me all over the region, showing me everything there possibly was to see, fed me every Honduran specialty dish known to man (homemade - and vegetarian!), introduced me to all his family and friends, and had some pretty deep conversations with me about the country´s history, politics and pretty dismal current situation. Spending time with him and his four daughters gave me a privelaged look into Honduran culture and life that few travelers get to see. At one point, as we were enjyoing the warm thermal waters of a nearby spring, I caught myself thinking, ¨Here I am, in Honduras, surrounded only by Hondurans, speaking Spanish, and learning about what it means to be a Honduran. Could I be any luckier?¨ At that moment I really felt the uniqueness and specialness of what I was doing.

The area near Alex´s house! Qué bonito!

Alex´s beautiful daughters - of course I immediately had four best friends!

Floating down the river

However, as my next experience taught me, I don´t always have to stay with a local family to gain that same feeling and depth. Since leaving Guatemala, I´ve really wanted to get as far off the beaten track as possible, and have avoided the big touristy spots like the plague, instead opting for more unknown, low key, and random spots I find on a map. Luckily for me, almost every Peace Corps Volunteer in Honduras is also on couchsurfing, and are based in some of the most random, hard to get to places in the country.

One of these is Jesse, based in the village of Jutiapa, on the north coast of Honduras. From the moment we introduced ourselves to each other, I knew I was going to like him a lot. As one of his projects, Jesse had spent the past few months converting what was essentially a swampland into a pretty amazing fútbol cancha - or, in other words, a soccer field. To my good luck, I turned up just a few days before its inauguration - which was to be celebrated with a big tournament consisting of teams from all the surrounding communities. A couple of days shy of the big event, there were still a few finishing touches to be put on the field and I was more than happy to help in whatever way I could. In addition to painting the goalposts, I was assigned the role of event photographer, one that I assumed with pleasure - evident in the hundreds of photos I took of game day and the preperations beforehand.

As game day approached with increasing excitement, I found myself really getting into the whole spirit of the event. I got to meet all of Jesse´s coworkers and friends in the community and really got a taste of rural Honduran life. And on the morning of the big day, we awoke to find a beautiful rainbow arched right over top of the cancha. What a sign - it was going to be a great day. And it was - from getting interviewed on Honduran television (they were curious as to why a foreigner, not affiliated with the Peace Corps was there in the first place), to cheering all afternoon from the best seat in the house - Jess´ balcony (and it turns out, I like watching soccer, who would have ever thought?!?), to Jesse himself getting in on the action, it was an incredible, unforgettable experience. I felt part of the community and got to celebrate something so special with them. At the end of the day, wen the last game finished, the lights were turned off and everyone started walking back home, grinning ear to ear, you can bet I was as well. Right then, at that moment, I felt not only like a Catracha (Honduran) but a Jutiapan as well.

Painting those goalposts

The field, almost ready!

Morning rainbow

Putting the lines down

The jovenes

Jess getting ready to hand out donated soccer cleats

Watching from the balcony

Jess ready to get in on the action

These are the moments you can´t put a price tag on, or find through a guidebook. And it´s moments like these that impel me to travel, and are why I love the whole concept of couchsurfing (done informally as well!). Because it´s so much more than a couch. It´s a whole new way of seeing the world.

Let's Get Wet!

El Salvador. Done. Next up: Honduras!

After successfully, albeit a bit sketchily, crossing the border into Honduras, and spending a few days in the cute colonial town of Comayagua, I heard adventure beckoning once more. This time, it led me to Lago de Yojoa, Honduras' largest lake, situated in the midst of incredibly lush mountains and abundant coffee and banana plantations. The towering mountain slopes were covered so densely with the berries you could almost smell the delicious aroma. Almost.

In addition to the mountains, red coffee cherries, bananas and the wildlife you'd expect in such a spot, the lake has another big plus going for it - just a short walk from its shore lies one of Honduras' only microbreweries! After drinking pretty bad, monotonous Central American beer for the past 8 months or so, you can imagine my delight at having half a dozen hand crafted beers at my disposal. And, right beside the brewing station was more than enough space for me to set up my little one person tent. Good beer, mountains, a gorgeous lake, hiking and camping - was I ever one happy little lady!

Surprisingly, the real highlight of the trip wasn´t the beer. I made friends with the owner of the brewery, and on my second day there he invited me to come along as he showed some visiting friends the nearby sights. First stop was Pulphanzak Falls - a 43 meter high waterfall. You can hear the falls well before you see them, and when I finally caught sight of them, I was humbled by their force. I was just minutes away from really experiencing their power.

One of the things I love about traveling outside of Canada/USA/Europe is all of the crazy and amazing things you can do that safety and security measures in the north would never permit. And Honduras definitely is no exception. For a few extra bucks, you can pay to go "under" the falls. Everyone I had met beforehand raved about it, using the most superfluous of words to describe the experience. I however, was skeptical. How can going underneath a bit of water be so great? How could it compare to cliff jumping, bungee jumping, motorbike riding? "Give me what you got cascada," I proclaimed, almost defiantly, before embarking out.

As our "guide" (aka a 14 year old kid) led us through the pools near the base of the falls, and we approached the thundering force of the water, I felt my skepticism running away. Standing no more than 3 meters from the waterfall, deafened by the noise of the water crashing powerfully towards the earth and feeling the mist spraying my body, I began to understand what all the hype was about. The feeling became stronger with each approaching step. And suddenly, there I was, standing directly underneath the cascade, feeling the force of nature pushing down on me. Stepping back into a small alcove behind the falls, I was given a reprieve from the flow of water and was able to open my eyes and take a moment to reflect on what was going on around me. Looking up, I could see the water arc and form an incredibly beautiful, yet surreal liquid curtain just inches from my face. The beauty of it all was almost blinding - standing there in this hidden spot, where many have been before, I couldn't help but feel as if it was a uniquely special experience, reserved just for me.

I came out with a burst of adrenaline that I hadn't felt in a long time - if you would have asked me to skydive, go cliff jumping, or white water rafting, I wouldn´t have even thought twice. Fortunately, the day didn't end there, as our gracious host continued to play tour guide and skirt us around the region. And while I arrived back at the brewery tired after a long and intense day, I wasn't too tired to finish off the day in real Canadian style - as the six game undefeated champion of a beer shuttlecock tournament (mostly thanks to my partner Dave).

And so the next morning, with a well deserved headache, once more I was off, on the road, seeing where it would lead me next.

The falls

Me! While still dry

The group, soaking wet after our adventure

6 time champions!

River flowing out into the lake

Mmmmmm bananas!

View of the lake

Lago de Yojoa

Rainbow from the falls

The Good Ol´ Savior

You know the old saying, ¨good things come in small packages?¨ Well, I can´t find any expression that more perfectly describes the country of El Salvador. The smallest country in Central America, at only 21,040 square kilometers, it is often overlooked by most travelers circuiting the isthmus. However, for those other travelers it is most certainly their loss, as it is really amazing and packs a lot of punch into its little package.

So when the rest of the gang left, driving off in the vehicle held together by masking tape, I found myself standing in the central plaza of the city of Santa Ana, with absolutely no idea as to where I should go or what to do. I knew nothing about El Salvador! Essentially, I was clueless and in need of some guidance.

Luckily for me, I spent that first night in the home of an incredibly friendly and helpful man who was more than willing to share with me his wealth of information about his country. As he sat me down in his living room and spread out half a dozen maps in front of me, going into extensive detail about every city, site and volcano that I just had to visit, I was taken aback by his openness, geniality, and just plain friendliness - something that would become a major element of my time in the country. For the truth is, Salvadoreños are some of the friendliest, most likeable people I´ve met - so much so that I can say without hesitation that they were my favourite part of the country. Everyplace I went I was constantly astounded by their hospitality, outgoingingness and the treatment I received by them - whether it was an older couple coming up to talk to me and find out more about my travels, or the wife of the hotel owner who went out of her way to make sure I was comfortable and that all of my needs were very much met. Now, I´m confident that this characteristic is definitely a Salvadoran trait but I also have my suspicions that it is a result of the lack of tourism and thus, tourists in the country. Whether because of its small size, lack of Caribbean coast, or ill-informed reputation as a ´dangerous country´ (I´ve found other countries to be way more dangerous), there is a very noticeable lack of extranajeros traversing the country - tourism is so low that almost every Salvadoreño that I talked to would ask me what project I was working on, assuming that I was there to work, not travel. And when I replied that I was just ´paseando´, or traveling through, surprise, but also delight would appear on their face and they would begin to ask me a million questions about where I had been, where I was going and my general thoughts on the country. Minimal exposure to brash foreign backpackers has meant that Salvadoreños are still curious and very much welcome to outsiders, and haven´t become jaded to them as can be seen in so many other places.

After my intensive tourism tutorial that first night, I headed north, to the charming colonial town of Suchitoto, where I was incredibly fortunate to run into a young American shortly after arriving. After chatting for a bit, he invited me into the house he was renting with four other friends, and what do you know, I ended up staying there with them for the next three days! They were an awesome bunch and we had a great time together, as the young budding filmmakers showed me the movies and music videos they had been working on and I in turn introduced them to the seductive art of cliff jumping.

Next came the capital, San Salvador. Always a fan of big, noisy and chaotic cities, I loved it and ended up staying a few more days longer than originally anticipated. My first day was spent in the company of a really cool couchsurfer and together we lounged in the park, playing music and singing songs all afternoon. It was through Melvin that I found out that two other viajeros were playing at a cafe that evening, a celloist and a guitarist - which immediately stood out to me - my old roommate from Guatemala, Liz (who plays the cello) and her boyfriend and my old guitar teacher, Hafid, were traveling and playing music through Central America. Could it be a coincidence? I didn´t think so, so that evening I turned up at the cafe and sure enough, there they were onstage, warming up. It definitely was an unexpected, but very pleasant, surprise for all of us, and we took advantage of the situation to spend some more time together while I was in the city.

Through another couchsurfer I got to sneak on a tour of the San Salvador volcano, pretending to be the French/English bilingual tour guide in training. Luckily the Americans who were on the tour were so laid back and cool I really don´t think they would have cared had they found out the truth anyways. But it´s always a little fun to wear a different identity for a while anyways.

From San Sal I went south, to check out some of El Salvador´s 300km long Pacific Coast. Again, the intention of a few days turned into a few more as I extended my stay just a little bit longer. I mean, how many times in your life do you get a whole beach all to yourself, free of other travelers?

As the grand finale, I ended my tour of El Salvador in Perquín, a small pueblo in the northern mountains bordering Honduras. Steeped in history, the area was both the headquarters for the guerrillas and the area most devasted by the brutal 12 year long civil war that raged through the country in the eighties and early nineties. The proximity and abundance of resistance forces taking refuge in the densely forested mountains led to fierce and brutal reprisals on the part of the conservative, staunchly anti-communist military government, who felt no qualms about unleashing their wrath on the civilian population. The remnants of this devastation can be seen everywhere, from gigantic bomb craters in the middle of town to the remains of those bombs that are now located in the town museum. But leftover bombs and half destroyed helicopters were nothing compared to the intensity of the site of El Mozote. On December 11, 1981, government forces took the tiny hamlet by storm and in one evening led a massacre that resulted in over a thousand killed and only one person surviving. While the numbers will never be known for sure, what is known is that the majority of lives taken were innocents - 80% of bodies exhumed have been children under the age of 12. What stands now is a giant memorial to pay homage and respect to those fallen, who lost their lives way too early, and also to stand as a stark reminder of what war really is - a brutal and destructive force that serves no positive purpose whatsoever. For all the glamours that Hollywood or CNN may show of combat and armed force, it is clearly apparent to anyone visiting a site such as El Mozote that those projections are so far from reality. War takes - takes lives, takes innocence, takes any hope of a future and destroys them all, leaving nothing but death and destruction in its wake.

Clearly, visiting such a site was incredibly difficult -  both frustrating and heart-wrenching. On very few occasions have I felt such strong emotions evoked in me, as I felt both pulsating anger that something like this can happen in the first place and overwhelming sadness when I reflected on the fact that this is only one of many places in the world where it does.  But while some may say its macabre to visit, I think it is necessary - by visiting these memorials not only are we paying our respects to those we´ve lost, but we´re also standing up and saying that this can never happen again. Let us hope that we will finally learn from history and these memorials will be our last.

Suchitoto Cathedral

Hanging out in the park of San Sal

Sunset at Los Cóbanos

Rufina Maya, the lone survivor of El Mozote

We must live in peace with ourselves so we don´t lose life´s values. To value what we have, we must know our origin. Those who don´t know their history are condemned to repeat the past.

The El Mozote Memorial - each plaque contains the names of those murdered by the army

Operation Flying Hawk 2011!

So, with the decision made to leave, it was just a matter of when and where. With my birthday approaching it seemed like the perfect opportunity to really exit in style, and after much debate and discussion, it was decided that myself and three good friends and roommates (Javi, Aida and Luke), would be roadtripping it to El Salvador. (We later picked up a fifth member). Nevermind that the whole Pacific Coast of Central America was feeling the wrath of a vicious tropical storm - our minds were made, we were determined, it was going to happen. And besides, lemons can always be made into lemonade right? (The chante ¨limonada¨ would later become the slogan of our trip).

So, a roadtrip it was. Now, for regular people, planning might start off with such logistical details as finding a car, planning a route, all that boring business. Not for a Yogamigo! Instead of wasting our time on such minor logistical details we focused on the really important stuff - such as creating a secret mission for ourselves. Under the code name Operation Flying Hawk 2011, we quickly got to work creating aliases for ourselves (Bobby DeNiro - Money Extortionist Extraordinaire, Bomba Jackson - Explosives Expert, Leroy Brown - Team Pimp and Trixie Hawk - Pigeon Fender Numero Uno), identification cards, and even a team mascot for an important member that couldn´t be with us. By the end of the day we had all we needed: new names, objectives and roles, a stove made out of a beercan and minor explosives. Everything except for an actual car. Or food. Or a map.

However, that proved to be a small bump in the road, easily overcome by a highly trained team such as ourselves and we soon found ourselves off, cruising down the Central American Carretera #1. Nothing but adventure ahead!

Well, it soon became apparent that the news reports of landslides, collapsed bridges, uprooted trees and other disasters that occur in less developed countries after 10 days of continual torrential rain had a lot of validity to them. We encountered a number of shocking things on the road but the real test for Operation Flying Hawk came when we were just 50km from the border - a huge, gaping chasm in the highway at least 20 meters across and 20 meters deep. We were slightly suspicious when they told us it would be fixed in an hours` time.

Now, most people would feel defeated at such a sight, and perhaps turn back or contemplate a change in plan. Not for Operation Flying Hawk! In fact, this is the type of situation Operation Flying Hawk thrives off of - and it`s what it was made to do - surmount the insurmountable. And once again, the team proved its worth and after a short delay of 3 or 4 hours, once again, we were off.

Despite all the odds working against us, we made it to El Salvador - tired and hungry, but happy to be there and happy to be there together. And lo and behold, shortly after, the rains stopped. Thank you Mother Nature, you couldn´t have given me a better birthday present.

Having already spent many, many hours in our slowly falling apart Mazda SUV, we decided to carry forth the rest of the operation along the banks of a beautiful crater lake - Lago de Coatepeque. In fact, through our covert list of international contacts, we were able to stay por gratis on private lakeside property, got to meet a bunch of incredible people and have a private pizza party in a closed bakery. Can say you limonada? 

Any successful mission requires excellent planning

And we`re off!

A common scene - where are we going again?

How does the road just collapse?

Lago de Coatepeque

Operation Flying Hawk

Our vehicle by the end of the trip

Xela who?

Now that I´m restarting up this blog, I find myself at a loss as to where to even begin or how to accurately summarize my time in Guatemala. The past 6 months have been some of the most memorable, meaningful, profound and enlightening of my life. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic or a bit dramatic, I feel overwhelmed when I reflect back on all that I´ve experienced and learned - and in all respects - pertaining to not just Guatemala, but about myself, other people and life in general. I´m just beginning to appreciate how lasting and formative this experience has been - something that as time progresses will become more and more apparent.

So down to business. Now that I´ve emptied the depths of my soul on to this webpage, what exactly happened in this little Central American republic this past half year that left such a deep impression on me? Well, a lot, and even I´m not so idealistic as to think that I can even scratch the surface of six months in one blogpost, so what follows is a very brief outline. Not satisfied and want more details? Shoot me a line! I´m always open to good old fashioned emails!

I arrived in Quetzaltenango, better known as Xela (Shay-la) in the last days of April, geared up to properly study Spanish. As always, I had no real plan of action but envisioned myself there for one to two months. While I remained open to any possibilities, in no way could I have forecast that I would end up spending such a long period of time there. Obviously there was something about that little place that resonated deeply with me.

A few days after arriving I found a great school and signed myself up to start classes the next day. Super keen to  get a better grasp on this language, I threw myself at my studies and it wasn´t a rare sight to see me revising early in the morning or plastering posters of irregular verbs on my bedroom walls. While I only took formal instruction for six weeks, it was a goal that remained (and still does) high on my list of objectives and I kept on top of it in various ways - lots of newspaper reading, intercambios and practice, practice, practice! So where I am at now you ask? Not great - but definitely a lot better than I was six months ago! I´ve also learned that with language learning there really is no substitute for time - you just can´t cram it. So let´s see where I am in six more months.

Luckily the school I studied at was really great and I had the opportunity to meet some fantastic people - both fellow students and instructors. It was a great way to settle into and get to know Xela. But by far the most definining aspect of my time in Xela was the Yoga House. Now, most of you reading this are already probably well-aquainted with this yoga studio-extranjero meeting point- insane asylum, but there will be a few who aren´t so I´ll give a brief introduction. While I did try the homestay option out for the first week I was in town, I soon realized it just wasn´t my thing and began to look elsewhere for somewhere to live. By a chance encounter in the local bookshop, I discovered the Yoga House and moved myself in by the end of the week. What is the Yoga House? Well, firstly and obviously, a yoga studio. But secondly, a communal living space, shared amongst anywhere from 10-14 people, depending on the situation. With 11 bedrooms occupied all by foreigners from all over the world (Spain, the USA, Belguim, Britain, Australia, Canada, Japan, Chile and Singapore were all represented in my time there), and plenty more friends constantly hanging out in what is probably Latin America´s best kitchen, there was never a dull moment. It was so dynamic, that very shortly after settling in I came to the realization that it could easily be its own sitcom. Appropriately named Yogamigos, the idea really took off and it become common parlance around the house to say, when yet another zany event happened, ¨this sounds like an episode of......¨. Some of us actually got pretty serious about it and starting plotting and writing down episodes - which I still have with me, waiting for the perfect time to approach a Hollywood producer with my million dollar idea. My personal favourites include The Goat Lady Benefit Concert, The Love Letter, and Son of Sniffer. Keep your eyes out for Yogamigos!

But seriously, it was through the Yoga House, the adventures and mishaps I had there, and the people I met, that led me to staying so long and feeling as deeply as I do about the place. Above all it was about the people - the community I fell into and the great friends I made that made me fall in love with the place. I was fortunate to meet so many incredible and inspiring people and forge strong friendships with them that I consider myself to be such a lucky girl. So I want to say a big thank you to you all - you know who you are. You have played such an integral role in my life and led me on crazy adventures, had deep discussions with me, and shared many, many laughs with me (and even some tears - but mostly on my part!). You rock!

And then, besides the aforementioned studying, what else did I do to keep myself occupied for 6 months? A lot! I ran a small peanut butter business (Manifico), climbed the highest point in Central America (Volcano Tajamulco), trekked for five days through the jungle to perhaps the grandest Mayan city of them all (El Mirador), learned to milk a goat and make cheese from it, attempted to make yogurt, biked 100km in one day to the coast, learned to weld, helped build a foosball table, jumped off a 20m high cliff, volunteered as an English teacher, went on a human rights mission in the heart of rural Guatemala, and learned guitar, just to name a few.

After all that adventure, and some pretty intense moments, I decided (for the 3rd and final time) to say goodbye. Goodbyes are never easy, especially for me, but I felt ready and knew it was time to move on. And so, backpack safely secured on back, camera in place around my neck, and guitar in hand, I waved and said, ¨Adios Yogamigos!¨ End of series.

For more photos: http://s1177.photobucket.com/albums/x349/nmazga/My%20heart%20belongs%20in%20Guatemala/Kicken%20it%20around%20Xela/

Back to Belize

I officially concede and admit defeat - I am quite possibly the world´s worst blogger. I thought that once I was settled in Xela I would have more time and really devote myself to this project - but in reality it was the opposite. For the first time in months I had a life and it pretty much overtook me - class five hours a day, plus a couple extra studying, friends, events, housekeeping - you know, all the normal business most people deal with. I found I had little time left over and what little there was I used for sleeping. But, enough of my excuses, and enough about Xela (I´ll save that for later), and I´ll get on with my story. Maybe in 3 more months you´ll find out what I´ve been doing here in Guatemala ;). Back to Belize......

I last left off with Steve, and how we began our crazy roadtrip together. When I agreed to go with him, I initially had no idea how much fun we would have together. We ended up spending a week together, made it all the way to the south of Belize, and picked up two important things along the way: a tent for me, and Doris.

Both were procured while we were spending some time at the Barton Creek Outpost, a magical little place set on the banks of the Barton Creek. Endowed with an amazing swimming hole (with an equally great ropeswing!) and a delicious orange grove (from which you can pick all you want!), it was a great a place to spend a few days. I wanted to get down to earth a bit, so I rented a tent from them and camped. Steve, with more money, rented their one cabana and lived it up in style. It was a very relaxing spot, and we spent most of our time swimming, eating and juicing oranges, jumping off the cliff into the swimming hole (which I discovered isn't that deep - ouch!), reading and getting high off of their extremely strong coffee.

My tent came to me via one of the volunteers there. I had been itching to do more camping, and asked him if he thought the owners would sell me one of their older tents. Well, it just turned out that he was leaving the next week and they were giving him one. Fortunately for me, he had bought one in Mexico and thus wouldn't be needing it anymore. So, in the amicable travel spirit, he passed it down the line to me. Suddenly there I was, the proud new owner of a cheap, non-waterproof, one-person tent! I couldn't have been happier. Life just got a bit better.

Unlike the tent, Doris wasn't passed off on us but came freely and willingly. She was a fellow traveler at the outpost and also a Canadian - which means I was automatically suspicious of her. Just kidding. She had been spending a lot of time in Guatemala and came to the outpost with a group she had met there. They were all splitting up to go their separate ways, and she liked the idea of coming south with us, so it was soon decided she would join us when we left.

And so there we were, the three of us, the most unlikely of trios. Steve, the born and bred New Yorker with a strong affinity for schedules, Doris, the young new-age hippy who lets the universe guide her in life, and me, the aspiring finca-owner traveling Latin America keeping her eyes open for good farmland. Surprising, we complemented each other incredibly well - Steve was practical, forward thinking and logical. I helped him to live a bit more spontaneously and get rid of his plan. Doris, in addition to cooking us delicious food (and reminding us to always bless it before eating it) kept us filled with positive thoughts and energy. I find one of the great joys of traveling is connecting with those you would least suspect - they create the most energetic and lasting experiences. And boy did these two give me a lasting experience.

We headed south, in Steve´s rented SUV, without any real destination in mind - our only limitation being ourselves. We drove along the Hummingbird Highway - without doubt one of the most beautiful roads I have ever seen - and stopped where we wanted - whether it was a beautiful cenote or a hot sauce factory to take the inside tour. We laughed, we talked and we found out more about ourselves and each other with each passing kilometer. Eventually we reached Hopkins, a little fishing village, and decided to stay there for a few days and soak in the wonderful Garifuna culture, as well as take advantage of the beautiful Caribbean stretched out before us. Within such a short time period we became such great friends and repeatedly remarked at how it felt as if we´d known each other for years. When it came time for me to leave - I was headed off to camp on a deserted island - I found myself filled with such deep conflicting emotions - incredibly happy and appreciative of the time I got to spend with two amazing people - but also so melancholic to have to bid them farewell. And so, after having said my second big goodbye in a matter of weeks, I left my new-found friends and headed on once more - off to an island in the middle of the Caribbean!