Category Archives: Guatemala

Lago Atitlan: Laking around San Pedro La Laguna

23 Wednesday Mar 2011

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Arnaud on our bike ride to San Marcos

Lake Atitlan, at 1573 meters/5238 feet, is a volcano fringed high altitude lake that is dotted around its shores with a series of villages that contain largely indigenous populations. Arnaud and I were very fortunate to have great weather on the morning we awoke at Gran Sueno, and we decided to forgoe the extremely expensive guided bike tours (at $55 a person) and just rent a few bikes and make our way along the northern “road” towards San Marcos where we planned to stop for lunch. The bikes were not the most modern, but they worked ok. What was a little cause for concern was hearing a grave warning about the road between San Juan La Laguna and San Marcos. Apparently there was a stretch of this route where tourists can be targeted and robbed by bandits. We were given two options: either get a pick-up to drive us through that section, or, if we saw shady looking characters, we could just ride extra fast to get by them.

Hmmmm…?

The "Las Rocas" Jumping Platform

As it turned out, we didn’t see any shady looking characters, just a bunch of farmworkers and locals walking between towns. Maybe they were bandits, but what exactly do bandits look like? More importantly, however, the road was full of very steep inclines that I struggled to push my bike over, sometimes being forced to jump off and heave my bike uphill on foot. If I were a bandit, I’d pick a nice spot at the top of one of these inclines, and then robbing me would be a piece of cake.

“Ride fast through these sections.” Yeah, right. This person had obviously never ridden a bike to San Marcos.

We made it  without any issues other than being exhausted and a little sunburnt. Dropping our bikes and our daypacks off at a hostel for an hour, we set out in our swim wear to find a spot on the lake where we were told it was possible to jump off the rocks into the lake. It was called “Las Rocas”- and it doesn’t appear in any guidebook. Sure enough, just to the right of the boat jetty, we found several wooden platforms, one of which had a “gate”, that you could open if you dared make the easily 30 feet/10 meter jump into the Lake. Arnaud jumped with no fear; I needed some more time to work up the courage. It was a long way down! After Arnaud made his second leap, he waited in the water below shouting encouragement. Someone said to me: “You can’t look, you just have to do it”.

So I did.

The road to San Marcos

What a rush! Not to mention having to re-assemble my bikini after hitting the water. After buying some yummy empanadas on the street, we elected to continue heading east to the last town accessible by the “road”, Tzununa, and then take the boat back to San Pedro from there. Cycling back to San Pedro was not an option for me, I was spent. The next section was unpaved and made the ride a little more fun and challenging. Plus it was mostly downhill. Score. On the boat back to San Pedro I was pleasantly surprised to meet up with a group of travellers from Poland, and I happily chatted to them in Polish about their trip. It always astounds me just how I always run into another Polish person no matter where I am in the world.

On our second and last day, we elected to climb Volcan San Pedro. We paid 100 quetzals each including entrance to the National Park and a guide. We were told that it was a 3 hour steep ascent, however, that didn’t include the hour it took to walk steeply uphill through San Pedro La Laguna to the park entrance! The climb was primarily in forest and it was unrelentingly steep. After 3 hours since departure, I was seriously feeling pain and hunger (especially since we hadn’t had a substantial breakfast). However, once emerging onto the rocky outcrop at the summit, the pain became all worthwhile as the vista revealed itself. The shining lake and surrounding mountains, thankfully free of clouds. We stayed on the summit until clouds rolled in about twenty minutes later, and completed the knee-jarring descent to the park entrance in two hours. Having adopted another hiker to our group, Nico, from Switzerland, we opted to pay for a tuk tuk directly to the Zoola restaurant to down some seriously needed nosh. After a quick shower, it was time for Arnaud and I to grab a shuttle and head back to Antigua in time for his flight home (sniff sniff) the following morning.

At the summit of Volcan San Pedro, 3020 meters

When: 13th and 14th of March

Where: Hotel Gran Sueno, San Pedro La Laguna and Casa Amarillo in Antigua

How: Shuttle from San Pedro La Laguna to Antigua.

A Shuttle, Three Chicken Buses, A Boat, And One Lost Lunch

18 Friday Mar 2011

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Another great Guatemalan mode of transportation, The Pick-Up

Wanting to cram as much as possible into the short week that Arnaud was traveling with me in Guatemala, we decided to try and get from Lanquin all the way to Panajachel on Lake Atitlan in one day.  It’s a long journey.  Though it was one that made me reconsider my earlier opinions about shuttle buses! They are not necessarily faster or more comfortable than chicken buses.  But more importantly, they are far less entertaining!

I was happy to note that we didn’t even have one cocky ex-pat hostel owner running his errands on our shuttle for the return to Antigua.  There was, however, one extra person on the shuttle already present when the other twelve of us piled in from El Retiro.  This was of no consequence until we reached Coban.  There, we were approached by a hostel owner and was told that the shuttle had been overbooked, and since he had two paying customers waiting to get onboard, would the person who bought their ticket last please own up to it and get off the shuttle?  His question was met with silence at incredulity.  I mean, come one! How is it that person’s fault that their hostel took their cash for a seat when there weren’t enough?

Just when I had visions of having both of my butt cheeks slammed by a fourth person in our already crammed three person row, Francesco, a lovely Italian traveler we met, piped up and set the owner straight: “No, nobody is getting off of this bus.” Surprisingly, the owner relented.

My travel mascot, Quatchi, on the Chicken Bus to Solola

After nearly 2 hours on the road and not having eaten anything since waking at 5am, I am not even the slightest bit guilty to tell you that I have never been happier to stop at a McDonalds as I was when we subsequently pulled into its parking lot.  In Guatemala, the drive-thru is called “McDrive” which I thought hilarious.  The quality of the food is also much higher than back home, and I thought it was apt that they also had “Desayuno Tipico” on the menu!

On our approach to Guatemala City, Francesco suggested that it might shave an hour or two off of several of our journeys if we elected to transfer to Chicken Buses for the rest of the journey to the Lake.  The driver kindly agreed to drop us off in Santa Lucia because it was more “seguro” than Guate for a bus change.  Since my McMuffin was but a distant memory at this point, I decided to run over to the market and grab us some street food, which consisted of corn tortillas, guacamole, pico de gallo, and chicken.  Standing with two backpacks and one purse attached to me, I tried to balance my tortilla sandwich carefully as I took a bite.  Delicious.

Not one minute later, but Francesco’s bus to Chichi pulled up and we all yelled our goodbyes and see you in Pana’s! As the bus pulled away, one of the luggage workers yelled at us for our destination, which we’d already told him three times, and when we replied “Panajachel” – a whole bunch of Guatemalans started yelling for the bus that was pulling away to stop while the worker started yanking at my backpack to throw it up on the roof.  Unfortunately, my purse was wrapped over my mochilla’s straps, so no matter how hard he yanked it wouldn’t come free.  My plated lunch subsequently flew in the air destined to become the best meal a stray dog had eaten in weeks on the street.  Amidst the chaos we managed to get aboard while running alongside the bus and being dragged in by a flapping arm.

Approaching Lake Atitlan on the Bus

Once inside the bus, we relearned the meaning of “packing them in tight”.  Just getting past the conductor required bodily contortion, and then once standing happily in the aisles, we were ordered to sit on one of the people who were seated two to a seat. So the next two hours or so consisted of balancing half of my rear end facing out toward the aisle on the seat, trying to ignore the pain in the other half, listening and smelling the drunk guy next to me who kept swilling corn liquor and talking to me in Mayan, holding onto the seat bars in front of me like my life depended on it while the driver cranked the engine to maximum tearing around sharp bends at such velocity it was more excitement than Space Mountain.

Yes, this was far more entertaining than a shuttle.

As a whole, Guatemalans are a relaxed people and they usually operate on Guatemalan time.  Well, this societal norm was given a strict kibosh on this chicken bus.  It was hilarious the way people would squeeze their way to the front, yelling at the driver that this was his or her stop, and then watch in amazement at how the driver would slam on the brakes, the doors would open, and the person was literally flung from the bus mid-air so that the driver could begin accelerating once again.

After having only had one bite of my lunch I eagerly bought a bag of papaya from one of the many vendors who board the bus for a couple of stops to sell snacks.

The boats of Lake Atitlan

The hurrying bus paid off, and despite having to change buses two more times, we arrived in Panajachel in about 1 ½ hours less than the scheduled shuttle.  Sore asses and blistered hands (from holding on for dear life) aside, I’m committed to mass public transit moving forward!

On arrival in Pana, Arnaud and I walked the streets looking for a hostel.  Upon observing the crowds of backpackers and seeing the souvenir-lined streets, we looked at each other and we both knew that we were heading for the lake to catch a boat to San Pedro instead.

As if our butts had not received enough punishment, the boat across the lake this late in the afternoon proved to be rather choppy, and we had stupidly decided to sit at the front of the boat where we could see all the pretty scenery.  Dumb decision.  The front of the boat lifted clear out of the water and smacked back down taking us with it on a seat-losing agonizing 45 minutes during which the wooden benches continued to whack us in our pained rears.

We were so relieved to fall down on our beds at the lovely Gran Sueno guesthouse that evening, a full twelve hours after leaving Lanquin.

And despite the long journey, turned out the only bad thing that happened was that I dropped my lunch.

 

Where: Gran Sueno Guest House, San Pedro La Laguna

When: March 12

How: see above!

Semuc Champey – Guatamela’s Garden Of Eden?

17 Thursday Mar 2011

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At the Mirador, Semuc Champey

Our long and arduous journey to Lanquin turned out to be completely worth it.  Semuc Champey and the surrounding area is simply beautiful and we couldn’t have a had a more invigorating and relaxing time here, staying at the El Retiro Lodge.

The day in Semuc Champey itself started with a visit to the K’anba Caves.  This area is primarily limestone and is a cavers paradise with thousands of unmapped miles of cave to explore: it just so happens that two main caves are open to the public.  This first one is the “wet” cave, so aptly named because you get to crawl, climb, and even swim through them, all the while holding a candle.  How do you swim with a candle?  Very carefully!

In the K'Anba Caves

I loved the experience inside the caves: it was rather unique and reminded me of the caves with glowworms I visited in New Zealand, except there you tubed the entire way through the cave on the water. Swimming through this cave made you feel like a first-time explorer, and the candles created a lovely ambiance such that I didn’t really even use my headlamp, even though I’d brought it.   This kind of excursion would never be permitted back home because some of the access points and narrow footholds meant that one wrong step could result in serious injury.  But this is Guatemala- and there are no liability waivers to sign here…yet.

After the cave splunk, our guide showed us a plant that the Maya used for cloth dye, and proceeded to mark our faces with the bright orange paint.  It certainly made us look strange for the rest of the days pictures.  We crossed the river to the National Park of Semuc Champey, which is essentially an area of pristine mountainous forest where the river cascades through a series of crystal clear and surprisingly warm emerald green pools.  A stiff uphill climb took us first to the Mirador to snap some aerial shots. Later it was an afternoon’s agenda of basking in the sun, diving in the pools, whooshing over rock slides and enjoying the peace of the location.

Arnaud diving into one of the pools

Having said this, it was obvious that tourism at Semuc is growing rapidly: the lodge we were staying at was under construction for an entirely new wing of accommodation , and the “tour” to Lanquin is heavily advertised in Antigua and Lake Atitlan.  I would suggest you come and visit before you are forced to share these pools with busloads of tourists.  Because it just wouldn’t be the same.

The following day we relaxed at the lodge, took a longer tube ride down the river, and then decided to visit the “Dry” caves in Lanquin.   I recommend visiting here in the early evening when you’ll have the opportunity to marvel at the thousands of bats emerging from the cave entrance, flying into the night sky in search for food.  Just make sure they don’t fly into your hair.

Bats emerging from the Lanquin Caves

When: March 9-11

Where: El Retiro Lodge, Lanquin

How: Shuttle bus from Antigua. There are shuttle from El Retiro to Rio Dulce, Lake Atitlan, and Flores.

Photos: You can see more photos from Semuc Champey here.

Death by Minivan

12 Saturday Mar 2011

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Chicken Bus

Traveling in Central America is generally performed by bus.  Pullman buses are comfortable and plush affairs, relatively speaking, and the so-called “Chicken Buses” are decidedly less comfortable, unless you are nine years old because that’s who the seats were designed to accommodate.   The alternative to the public bus system is the Shuttle, or privately-run minivan.   They do get you to your desired destination a little faster, however, they can still be quite cramped and therefore a painful experience on a long journey, especially since they cram people in till you’re seated with a degree of physical intimacy you may not like.

We took such a shuttle from Antigua to Lanquin, and were told that the journey could range from 5-9 hours.  It ended up taking about 8 hours, however this was not due to traffic, but was due to our being forced to wait patiently in the cramped van while two self-claimed British “owners” of a new hostel in Lanquin got supplies, loaded the van, made phone calls etc.  Oh, and when they wanted to pull over to buy themselves a coconut to drink.

These guys left rather a bad impression, in my opinion.  If I were an owner of a new hostel in Lanquin, I would try to leave a good impression with backpackers.  The vast majority of van occupants had not made reservations anywhere to stay, but not once did either guy mention anything about The Zephyr, or that we might also be able to stay there when two girls indicated they’d tried to email to hold a bed and were told, “oh, I’ll call ahead for you and make sure they have your reservation”.   I found them to be pretentious.

El Retiro Lodge

We instead opted to stay at the El Retiro Lodge where I had booked a private double room via email and telephone about a week prior.  Not that that mattered when we arrived and were told that they had my reservation, but that it wasn’t until tomorrow and it had been made for a dorm.  Great.  My Spanish may be a less than perfect, but I know what I confirmed.  Basically, the hotel was somewhat full and they didn’t give a crap if you wanted a double room or not: you got what was available.

And so, we ended up in one of their “loft” rooms, which had two twin beds and had to be accessed via a step ladder.  Fun times.   Except for the bugs that could easily fly in and out of the room, the lockless entryway, and the even more entertaining trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night.   The beautiful jungle-like mountainous surroundings replete with hammocks and wooden bungalows next to the river certainly compensated.

As did the yummy bbq feast that was put on in the hotel-run restaurant that night, which we’ve subsequently enjoyed each night we’ve been here.  Generous servings of fresh home-cooked food: frijoles, guacamole, pico de gallo, chicken, tortillas, cheese, various salads, and strangely enough but very welcome: copious amounts of beetroot?

Yes, very happy to be here.

Got Lava?

11 Friday Mar 2011

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Preparing to hike up Volcan Pacaya

This was my second visit to Guatemala, though almost exactly two years ago, my stay was for a mere 24 hours before I headed south to Honduras.  This trip, was to be quite different.  To start with, I have far less resources and therefore less time before I’ll have to head home to find another job (I got laid off from TravelPost in January).  Also, my boyfriend Arnaud is with me for the first eight days, which has required some tricky route planning to ensure we both get the most out of the visit, without too much backtracking on my part.

After our week sojourn in Paris and the UK, I was happy to re-discover the joys of what I like to call “reverse jet-lag”.  Opposed to the painful experience of forcing oneself to get up when it feels like its time to go to sleep, aka US-Europe travel, one feels instead as though one has had a good long night of partying, and is returning home in the wee hours of the morning vastly well-prepared to snooze away till the late afternoon.  It’s a piece of cake for me, especially being the night owl that I am.

Emerging from one of the steaming "caves"

So one hour after grabbing a cab to Antigua from the airport, we wearily fell easily asleep in our comfortable double room at the Casa Amarillo.  We awoke refreshed around 7am and partook of the tremendous breakfasts on offer included in the price: porridge, pancakes, eggs, potatoes, black beans, fruit and delicious Guatemalan coffee.  We spent the morning happily wandering around Antigua’s lovely stone cobbled streets, taking in the many “ruins”, left that way not because they are ancient Mayan relics, but rather because Antigua has been repeatedly ravaged by earthquakes.

That afternoon we decided to tackle the steep slopes of Pacaya, a volcano about an hour from Antigua which unfortunately (for us as tourists that is) was no longer spewing red hot lava since its eruption in May of 2010.  We were met by at least 20 small children clamoring to sell us their handmade walking “sticks”, overwhelming in the sense that even if I had wanted to buy a walking stick, I would have relented due to being unable to choose whom to buy one from.

Unfortunately, we couldn't go all the way to the summit

Our guide, Arturo, a rail-thin but ever smiling man in his 40’s described how he and his family took refuge in their home’s basement as man-sized boulders rained from the sky, emerging later to discover their house was rubble.  Despite the hardship that the volcano inflicted upon him (especially since he essentially lost his job in the months following the eruption when all tours were cancelled) Arturo still proudly declared that he had the best job in the world: guiding people to the top of Pacaya twice a day, seven days a week.

Despite the lack of lava, the scenery was impressive and other-worldly: the path the lava had taken was clearly visible in the black, now hardened, river of solid rock.  There were a few areas that were “venting”, small caves that one could climb inside and feel cocooned by the sauna-like heat coming from the heart of the mountain.  Unfortunately, the summit was still about 200m out of our reach, so after a few hour ascent, we bid goodbye and made our way back.

After an authentic Guatemalan meal of Chile Rellenos (Peppers stuffed with meat and spices), we happily fell fast asleep from all the physical exertion.

Then again, maybe it was the reverse jet-lag.

The next adventure begins

03 Tuesday Aug 2010

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So.  After several frustrating attempts at migrating my 12 year old blog over from blogger to WordPress, I’m finally here and ready to embark on a new travel adventure in Central America.

The look and feel of the blog is by no means finished; I am in “learning” mode and need all the help I can get!

 

Central America Part I

29 Sunday Mar 2009

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I find myself writing this to all of you from the charming colonial town of Granada, in southern Nicaragua. It is a beautiful little town, with colorful stucco homes and cobbled streets, all the brochures talk about its tourist appeal. However, at dinner tonight, the truth of the hardships faced by so many native Nicaraguans painted a much more real picture of this town and land for everyone sitting at my table. We were about half way through our meal when two people, a young male teenager, and an older woman, walked right up to a few of us and stuck their hands into our plates stealing our food from under our noses. We were eating al fresco on the street, and from that point on, we noticed several others lurking behind our table, waiting to be given any leftovers we might have had. After all these years of globetrotting, not much surprises me anymore. This sure did.

 

 

I am just over a week into my trip traveling with Gap Adventures through Central America. I chose this company as they provide accommodation and transport only – leaving you to worry only about activities and areas of interest at each stop along the way. As I mentioned in my last email, this trip was very last minute, so I didn´t even really have time to plan or read up on where I was going. The itinerary looked very appealing- it was called the Volcano trail for one, and promised opportunities to hike, dive off the coast of Honduras, climb volcanoes, observe a lot of wildlife in jungles, and cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time. Sounded like my cup of tea.

 

 

So off I flew from Seattle to Guatemala city via Atlanta. It was a “red-eye” flight and I was very very sleepy when I arrived, especially after having just experienced a grueling 2 day test right before getting on the aircraft. I had a cab drive me to Antigua which was the first stop on my 17 day tour. It’s a beautiful little town and a welcome retreat from the noise, pollution, and horrendous traffic of Guatemala City. I checked into the little “posada” and took a well needed shower. I spent the next couple of hours wandering around the town, which has entirely cobbled streets, narrow footpaths, and colorful buildings. It was also the start of a Catholic festival, and many of the young boys and men were dressed head to foot in bright purple as the town prepared for the afternoon´s procession…which I got to witness right as it began in the town square. One could tell almost immediately just how devout the Guatemalans are, and what a source of comfort their faith is to them. After a long nap, I met up with some of my fellow travelers (unfortunately for me…most of them had already been traveling together for the past 3 weeks and formed bonds with one another…I was the new kid and have had a hard time feeling included) and went out for dinner. By around 9pm I was delirious from exhaustion and passed out.

 

 

This trip has been filled with early morning departures (the second day we left the hotel at 4:45am…its amazing how well I deal with mornings when I´m not at home in the States…I don´t seem to mind them at all!) and quite a lot of time spent on buses, taxis, and ferries. Lots of time to think (not so good for me), and lots of time to read (good because I brought the sequel to Pillars of the Earth – all 1000 pages of it and am loving it). Our first stop was to cross the border into the “Banana Republic” of Honduras (did you all know that?) and deal with the inefficiencies and tedium which has come to characterize many of the customer/service type interactions thus far. Bureaucracy. From there we drove on to the town of Copas Ruinas which is famous for its Mayan ruins of the city of Copas…the militaristic headquarters of the grand Mayan Empire of long ago. After setting down our backpacks and enjoying a wonderful lunch of a burrito the size of my head, a few of us set out to check out the ruins.

 

 

We ended up getting a tour guide by the name of Mario who ended nearly every sentence with “…and things like that” whether it grammatically suited the phrase or not. He was a dear old man, and explained that he had been working at the UNESCO world heritage site for the past 30 years, and had never missed a day. The ruins were impressive from the perspective of the quality of sculptures. It was not as grand as the Mayan sites I´d visited in the Yucatan, but the artwork was vastly superior. We were also lucky enough to get some close up shots of vibrantly covered Macaws.

 

 

It was so strange walking around that day in the relentless heat and humidity, thinking that just a short 36 hours before, I was completing at test at Shoreline community college…so weird. Its taken at least a week for my being here to even really sink in.

 

 

There are 10 of us in the group- from the US, Canada, Australia, England, and Norway respectively. Our tour guide is from Spokane. Small world, eh? I travel to Central America to get a complete change of scene…and my guide is a Washingtonian. Typical. That night we had a wonderful meal and then drank beers on the rooftop terrace of our hostel, retiring early as we had another early start.

 

 

We spent the entire next day traveling on “chicken” buses through the winding highlands to the east coast of Honduras where we boarded a catamaran to the Bay Island paradise of Utila. This ended up a hilarious adventure when we all decided to sit out on deck, and enjoy the fresh air of the crossing, only to also enjoy being constantly pounded by waves crashing over the side of the boat and drenching us all to the bone. We laughed without stopping for about 30 minutes straight, at that point it all got rather cold and our sense of fun was taken away by the knowledge that we were only 1-2 way there!

 

 

We arrived, shivering drowned rats, to this tiny little settlement that the next few days revealed to house an assortment of strange characters seeking escape from the civilized western world in one form or another. The hot shower felt so good that night…and our spirits were all raised by the best bbq I´ve ever had…all for a fantastic $7 which included an ice cold cerveza!

 

 

Utila is on the second largest coral reef in the world and I intended to make the most of it! I got to the dive shop at 6am only to be told that the vis would be pretty bad as the weather was calling for choppy seas. I decided to postpone my dive until the following day and went in search of coffee.

 

 

A few of us decided to go on a snorkel trip which included a visit to a couple of uninhabited “Robinson Crusoe” like islands, one of which was only 200 metres wide by 400 metres long. Fantastic. It was leisurely day where we all got pretty much roasted by the sun, snorkeled to our hearts content, and lay out on pure white sand and drank beer. Very harsh indeed. It was so beautiful: but I found myself just wishing for someone to share it all with (other than my new, somewhat lame travel companions).

 

 

I got to scuba dive the following day : the conditions were perfect. As this was also a prime Whale Shark season, I was told that there was even a decent chance of spotting a Whale Shark for a snorkel encounter. After having had Whale Sharks elude me twice so far in my travels, both on the West Coast of Australia and Mexico…I did not want to hype myself up too much in case I was disappointed again. Alas, the sharkies did not come to us…as was explained by our very eccentric divemaster from the UK, Adam, who insisted on STANDING on the roof of the boat as we pounded the sea at full speed, screaming at the top of his lungs “NO!! NO Whale Sharks today…I know when they´re around coz I can SMELL THEM!! ARRRGGGHHHH!!” Very odd, but entertaining.

 

 

It was great to be diving again; though the memory of Jennifer still haunted me as I checked my regulator, o-ring, second stage, and tank…feeling tears come to my eyes. The dives on Utila were rather shallow…we didn´t go down more than 60 feet. I´ve been horribly spoiled in my diving experiences…I found the reef to be somewhat lacking in fish, though the diversity of the coral itself was outstanding. All the same, I´m still always filled with that momentary exquisite realization when I dive that is outside of the visual stimuli of wildlife itself- its just that blatant realization of “shit! I´m underwater…and breathing air!! This is fantastic!”

 

 

The next two days was almost entirely traveling, again in a variety of long, uncomfortable buses. Something I´m used to thankfully. The highlight for me was after arriving in the Honduran capital of Tegulcipalca, we experienced the kind of hair raising cab ride that made you feel you were living in a Jackie Chan movie. Our driver was completely insane, about as insane as the traffic, noise, dirt, crowds, and general nastiness of this sprawling megatropolis which I think in all my travels can only be rivaled by Saigon or India for its intensity. I could never live there.

 

 

Our driver would not stop for stop signs. Why bother, when you can risk yours and your passengers lives by flooring it through intersecting moving traffic??? And why believe that you should stick to one side of the road? Especially when you´re forced to wait….no! Just pull over into the opposing lane, floor it around a blind corner doing 50 mph, and then simply slam on the brakes for dear life when at the last possible second you see a truck heading straight for you in a near death head-on collision forcing you to put the car in reverse and drive backwards for nearly 3 minutes? And lest I forget, I also learned the importance of short cuts. Why drive a normal street when you can cut straight through an open public market, driving so fast that stall keepers and small children are forced to run for their lives to get out of the way, and there´s barely room for a bicycle to squeeze through let alone a car? Craziness.

 

 

When we got to our hotel, my 20 year old Norwegian companion just looked at me, finally exhaled, and said “Well. They don´t do that in Oslo.¨”

 

 

We arrived in Granada yesterday evening. Today I spent much of my day in this Internet cafe and taking a tour of Lake Nicaragua. Will write again soon!