Panaboom City

je termine donc ce voyage (quel mot grossier: cette quete, ce periple, ces aventures) en beaute: en francais, la langue de mon pays, de mon chez moi, de mes idees (mais toutefois pas celle des voyages), la langue de Beaudelaire... je ne me contenterai que de le nommer (et non de le citer ou encore pire, de l immiter, faute d opium). terminer en francais fait parti du processus de retour a la maison - vous voyez.

il y a qque chose d errone dans le nom de cette ville qu est "Panama City". "city", traduit en francais, equivaut a "ville", n est-ce pas ? Or, panama city n est pas une ville. c est une citee. c est une lignee de grattes-ciels a perte de vue, a faire rougir les quelques toures du "centre-ville" de montreal. ne vous demandez donc plus "ou sont les grues", elles sont ici (et a beijing... et a dubai). mais bien que panama citee impressionne par avec sa lignee d edifices a pertes de vue, aucune photo ne saurait saisir l esprit de cette mini-megapole (apres tout il n y a que 1.5 M d habitants). car son esprit est invisible. son esprit est sonore. son esprit est rythme, musique ou tout autres sons sachant attrapper votre attention. chaque commerce dispose de son boombox, crachant tous plus fort les uns que les autres salsa, merengue ou bachacha moderne ou retro. cela ne s arrete pas aux rues commercantes. le soir venu, la musique jailli des fenetres de chacun des appartements de la vielle ville.
Parlons en de la vielle ville. panama city, citee de contradictions, avec, d un cote, une vision des plus fututistiques qu une ville americaine pourrait aspirer a ressembler, et de l autre, casco viejo, site du patrimoine mondial depuis 1997, protege par l unesco. la vielle ville est splendide en soit, avec ses maisons colorees, son architecture colonial recemment revitalise, ses petites rues de pierres et ses parcs. mais casco viejo, ou san felipe, offre tout de panama city, car c est egalement d ici qu on apprecie la vue de la nouvelle ville.

mon hotel, dans ce quartier historique situe legerement en hauteur, au bout d une petite peninsule, offre un panorama parfait sur l ensemble de la ville. parlant d hotel, je me dois de parler de Luna's Castle. quoi que j ai toujours eprouve une relation amour-haine avec les societes artificielles remplies de backpackers que ce genre d hotel tend a creer, la recette, ici, a atteint la perfection. le matin, les crepes, sirop d erable, cafe ou the et bananes sont gratuites, oui, gratuites. les ordinateurs et l indispensable internet ? gratuit. les dortoirs petits et non surpeuples. la biere est toujours accessible dans un frigo non barre a clef, et le systeme de paiment fonctionne sur l honneur: on la paye qd bon nous semble. l hotel est situe dans un quartier de reve et offre une vue de reve. les employes ont concocte des guides pour visiter la ville efficacement (ou aller et surtout ou ne pas aller), les restos sympas, les clubs etc. de grandes pieces ouvertes et leurs hammacs invitent a la relaxation et au flanage. j ai succombe a mon premier episode de ce genre cet apres midi, alors que je revenais du canal de panama, une averse, la premiere pluie de mes yeux vus en 31 jours de voyage, m a force a la biere et au hammac, ou, a mon insu, j ai du m assoupir qques instants. j ai du dormir, car lorsque j ai ouvert les yeux, ma bouche etait ouverte (et je respire normalement par le nez durant la journee - vous voyez). bref, chapeau pour l hotel. ils ont meme omi de me charger une nuitee, ce qui m'est arrive pour une deuxieme fois dans ce type d auberge gere par des jeunes trop cool pour etre structure.

parlons du canal. il est gros. il est interressant - sur papier du moins et selon le musee que j ai visite - mais des circonstances personnelles ont fait en sorte que lorsque j y suis arrive, "bof" j ai fait. c est que chez moi, de la rive-sud, d ou je suis natif, nous avons non seulement une ecluse, mais nous avons, en plus, un pont-ecluse. bien plus ingenieux, a mon avis. selon le cite internet de la voie maritime, nos reseaux d ecluses constituent "le système de levage le plus spectaculaire au monde" ! Et vlan le canal de panama. faits anecdotiques au sujet du canal, le prix du passage fluctue en fonction du poid de l embarcation. la somme la plus imposante versee a ce titre est detenue par un certain bateau scandinave, 300 000 $us. la somme la plus infime ? 0.36 sous, paye pour les 150 livres de chaires et d os de Richard Halliburton pour avoir fait la traverse a la nage ( 9 jours d un ocean a l autre), en 1928.

de retour en ville, j ai visite un centre commercial enorme, non, gigantesque, dont les citadins sont si friands. le centre en question n avait rien a envier au carrefour laval - je suspect meme qu il etait plus grand ! on peut y marcher pendant plus d une heure sans voir les memes magasins tout en profitantde la clim :-)

a mon retour, petite pluie et... vous savez la suite.

bref retour en arriere, ou hier soir, louis et moi avons partage un dernier souper. ce joyeux compagnon de voyage m aura suivit pendant presque 2 semaines. il disait que j apportais de la chance... et c est vrai ! j ai pas voulu en parler (pour pas le jinxer), mais tout au long de mon voyage j ai ete chanceux: dans mes transferts de bus, dans mes rencontres avec les gens, dans les hotels etc.). remarquez que je pourrais encore rater mon transfert de vol demain ! (delais tres serre). donc pour notre souper, on s est paye une traite. un resto semi chic super style super gastronomie et sans menu. certes, on s informe sur les grandes lignes : etes vous vegetariens ? aimez vous les poissons ? les fruits de mer ? avez vous des allergies ? Mais c est tout. apres, les assiettes (pas moins de 12, oui douze) arrivent selon l humeur du chef. et ce fut delicieux. accompagne d un superbe vin blanc espagnol de la region de leon, ce fut, vraiment, un vrai regal :-p

j oublie pleins de trucs... mais c est tout le temps que j ai pour l instant.
demain matin, un taxi vient me chercher a 5am (moi et 2 autres jeunes, histoire de couper les frais en 3, le tout booker par le fantastique hotel). j arrive dans moins de 16 heures. et j ai hate de voir mon cafe, mes amis... et surtout... mp.
honey... i'm coming home !
;-)

Panama

we ended up our journey early evening in Boquette, a small but lovely town in the midst of a nice valley. the town is picturesque, calm and quiet, except for the smooth music from the 2 rivers that runs by each side of the village. that calming sound of running water only made the zzzzz time more pleasent, as the hostel was right next to the river. but before going to bed, we had a yummy authentic meal at a local comedor. the plate consisted in 2 simple things: one part was meat in a bbq-gravy style, the other part, more intriguing but deliscious, would have to be described as follow: a mixture between a queue-de-castor and a naan bread.

on our way back to the hostel, we bumped on Zanzibar, a sweet african-influence slash jazz bar that was playing a fine mix of world music. a couple of whiskey on the rock later, i had the pleasure to find my dorm bed overbooked, which gave me the key to an almost presidential suite all for myself.

Boquette is one of the best coffee growing area in panama, so the coffee tour wasn t optional for me. this tour was perhaps the most complete and informative tour so far. it was really inspiring and gave me a lot to think about and to bring back home.

as m-p knows (she suffer from the same illness as i do), sleeping in buses seems unavoidable for us. the ride from David to Bocas del Toro was the single exception. not once i could shut an eye. the views were scenic for the full 4 hour ride, probably the nicest, richest vegetation i had seen so far (one could argue that i was sleeping in prior bus rides :-).

on the next day, we finally got to bocas del toro after a nice 30 min boat ride. bocas del toro is a small archipelago stolen from heaven. it looks a lot like the carrbbeans, only better. virgin islands, prestine and unspoiled beaches, and of course one little party and exuberrant little sea-side city.

on our first day, we went straight for playa de las estrellas (stars), so called for, well, obviously, their numerous bright red and orange star fish that occupy the shallow and hot beaches. the beaches can be found on a remote area of the main island, a full hour away from the town on a bumpy road (nothing new here). the beaches were amazing. we litterally walked 25 meters into the sea and yet the water was not higher then our waste. the water was cristal clear or light blue, which made it very easy to observe the starfishes. yet again, very few tourists were here, so each of the fw of us had a big chunk of perfect white, fine sand. at night, we went for a drink (or two), but as i m officially turning old in this trip, i went to bed kind of early and let my young follower party. we did have a big and complete program for the next day.

i had booked a full tour of the archipelago, so i got up a bit earlier to make sure to benefit from the free coffee and pancakes offered at the hostel. it was a self service self madem, i was quite hungry and made two fat-tick pancake, alla american: with its unseparable but fake maple sirup.

the small motor boat started the tour with the dolphin bay. even if this wasn t my first experience with dolphins, they never stop to amaze me with their playfull, unscared attitude. clearly it wasnt the first time they were dealing with our kind of visitors, as they were showing off all over the place and jumping through the waves.

next stop was through some very shallow and clear waters. as much as i am not a fan of scuba diving, i must admit that this time around, it was fun. the corrals were colorfull, with vivid colors and bright fishes here and there. the water was perfectly refreshing and balancing out the heat from the sun (although my back will seriously pay for this). i surprised myself having fun scuba diving, touching the plants and trying to catch fishes. after we stopped to a small restaurant that was floating above the sea, we got a full 2 hours to play on the nicest beach i have stuck my feet it: boca del drago. the sand was perfectly white, just enough trees to take a nap, shallow and hot water for several meters, just enough waves to have fun, blue to turquoise water. this, is heaven. one last scuba diving session before heading to town let us discovered a different environment with cliffs and benches of fishes, hugh "oursins" and other marine marvels. by now, my back is seriously burned and hurting.

tomorrow, i m catching a small charter to panama city. this 45 minutes flight will save me 12 hours of boat and buses and will therefore give me all the time i need for this skyscrapers-city and its unfamous canal, before i finally fiond myself at home...

the bus was leaving monteverde at 6h30 am, which made it possible to reach San Jose early afternoon. i walked through the city, snaped som pics and droped my luggage at a cheerful youth hostel. i then took a local bus to a smaller town and from then on, another bus to an even smaller town. i was once more looking for a coffee farm, in San Rafael. although i couldn t find the farm itself, i did end up meeting the owner of the farm, which, for a first on my trip, happened to be a total old gerk. i went to a local coffee-coop and met a much more welcoming crew.

one advantage of being in a major city is that you finally get some variety, food-wise at least. san jose was by far the most city-like of the capital i had visited in central america. i could have been, actually, in any other south-u.s. major city. louis and i hited a fine indian restaurant that evening, which was quite refreshing (inspite of the spicyness !). we had a cool white wine (italian pinot griggio) to wash the meal down, and a surprisingly authentic masala chai tea.
it was only fair that we treated ourselves with some exotic food, as we were preparing for a full day of commuting to get into panama, early morning on the next day.

costa RICA

arriving in costa rica from el salvador, honduras and nicaragua is like a slap on the face. it is no coincidence that in the country name "costa rica", there is to be found the one word "rica".
the differences, in terms of richness, are obvious from the minute you cross the border. the road is paved. not only it is paved, but it also have those nice colored reflectors on the side of the road, for easier night drive. the deli, at the border, was now charging double what i could have on the nicaragua s side. the buses were not the caracterial colorful chicken buses but rather spacious, cushion seated pulman - and their price boosted accordingly. when we took off (louis decided to follow) i saw freshly cutted grass on each side of the road. even the cow seemed healthier, fatter. there were more cars on the streets. the differences are abundant, but in short, what was making it a bargain to travel so far was suddenly not so the case here in this rica costa. i had been warned by previous travelers litterally fleeing the country up to the rest of central america. it is, after all, even when warned, shocking to be paying more then at home for the same goods.

thus, i didn t lose much time and went straight for the adventure. in a single day (today), i had booked 3 excursions. the first one consisted in "eXtreme canopy" (zip-line). the company had just finished intalling the longest zip-line accross the the cloud-forest of Monteverde, which made it appealing. that one metal cable went on for more then a kilometer over this virgin jungle. it s the closest thing to spider man you can get. one surprise over the run: the tour included a tarzan jump, which, i had to admit, was more scary then i d thought. up there, the guy told me to count untill "4". at "2" i had a kick in the butt and off i went "aaaaaa-ia-ia-ia" little tarzan did.
the region has the perfect climate for coffee, so i booked a comprehensive coffee tour with a local coop of small farmers. it was nice and instructive.
late after noon, i escalated a hughe tree, over about 25 meters. this weird natural phenomenon, in short, makes the trunk of the tree empty, making it possible to climb it from inside the trunk all the way to the top. i watch the sunset from up there and my day was off (main pic).

expectations & eggspectations.

when you hear too much good about something - a movie, a restaurant, a touristic landmark - chances are that bringing high those expectations will only let you down, disappointed.
isla ometepe has always been on top of the to-do list in nicaragua as far as tourism goes back in this turbulent slash passionate political country. hence my suspicion of finding a spoiled paradise. au contraire. the island is anormally quiet. the picture on the right was taken from finca magdalena, were i crashed for 2 nights. the finca, at the foot of one of the 2 volcanoes that have created the island, serve mainly as an organic coffee farm but has also dorms and a small restaurant-like place where one* can enjoy some grilled fish, a fresh juice and a beer while watching the opposite twin volcano. to get there in the first place was an adventure in itself. it implies going through the roughest dirt road ever, making it even harder to believe that this island has anything to do with tourism. it s then walking uphill for some time untill you reach the farm.

as the farm was at the bottom of a volcano, it seemed futile to try not to go up it s crater. a small group ( 4 of us, maud, molly and louis) went up for it. what was believed as to be a walk in the parc quickly turned out to be a stiff, narrow, rocky little path. and as we gained in altitude, the ground became more and more humid and then clearly wet. soon, we had red-clay mud up to the ankles. and as we kept moving up in a hike that never seemed to end (it took a good 6h30 all together) what was then steep became closer to rock climbing. the heights brang wind. maud was starting to feel week (my lower legs still hurts 2 days after). we new, after 3h30 minutes up-hill, that we were getting coser to our objective only when, at the very top, we started going downhill. that meant that we were now inside the crater, the fact that there was no more wind confirmed this. out of the thick green-jungle-cloud-forest-like came an oasis: a little beach with the blue-green crater lake. we ate our sandwiches, we took it easy, enjoying the sun, little bath. we had the crater lake for ourselves and i really wondered, at that precise moment, if nicaragua had any tourism at all. after all, we were, the 4 of us, alone in what is suppose to be nic first attraction.

mini-van, boat, taxi, chicken-bus and a pullman. these are what is needed in order to get out from omatepe and into costa rica. before i start a new post for costa rica, i d have to say at least a word about what has now been the strangest cross-border i have been through so far. priorly, borders have been shared between guatemala, el salvador and nicaragua in good faith and in common sense, making the crossing efficient, practical, easy and fast.
now why the border between nicaragua and costa rica is seperated by a full one kilometer corridor, a no-mans-land kinda experience, is beyond understanding. people are walking frenetically in all directions. you need a first stamp. you need to pay to leave the local community. another desk, somewehere, elsewhere, needed to pay out of nicaragua. then walking and walking. people have luggages over their heads, as if they would be fleeing some sort of heavy warzone. then you get into costa rica and you need to find where about to get their stamp in your already much shaken passport. i m telling ya, this, in itself, was something of an experience out of the ordinary.

N.B.: as a big breakfast fan, those eggs, rice, bean and cheeze that we get pretty much every morning have never been dispointing. sometimes it s just nice to know what to eggspect.

* "one" would be me.

Nicaragua, part 1

From tegucigalpa, honduras, i had baught a direct ticket to managua, nicaragua. plans are as good as long as they can be bent. truth is, i did end up in managua, five days later. what happen between then is the fruit of spontaneity and urges for adventure. in the bus, i open my guidebook. it might be gods act, the page open to a specific page, mentioning a special activity: ash'surfing on a volcano. turned out this was close to Leon, a revolutionary city, where, 30 years ago, a poet, disguised in a vulguar waiter, killed a dictator that was well installed for some 40 years. that was the start of a long and bloody revolution for nicaragua. Leon, therefore, was halfway through where i was suppose to get out. but there i went. and ash-surfing i did. the surf take place on Cerro Negro, one of the most active volano in nicaragua. uppon the seismic activity and it s regular erruption -every 8 years- cerro negro will errupt again this very year. this only adds to the thrill of this extreme sport. extreme because a) we have no protection. b) we take uncontrollable speed along the slope c) they say 'ash' but it's rather 'little sharpy edgy black rocks' and finally because d) 3 people out of our group of 8 ended up bleeding. extreme sport, in this case, might also be a synonimous for 'idiot', 'irresponsable' or, more plainly, 'stupid'. yet it was thrilling. yet it was challenging. yet it was fun. yet, if i'd be a robot and calculate all the pronostic of what to be done in order to maximize my health, i'd still probably be in my room, in montreal - and i couldn t get out of it, for maximized health concern. i'm no robot and i intend to live fully, with all the contradictions that make us what we are: humans.

the hotel were i crashed for 2 nights, in leon, was named lazybones. lazybones, as much as i hate to admit that i did love it, is a backpackers paradise. there are hammocks all over, free internet, free coffee and tea, a nice pool, the vibe is cool and relax and so are the people droping by. on my first evening, i got cought in a restaurant where the special of the day was rose-beef with mash potatoes. i simply couldn t resist to this hommy meal and it was so yummy indeed. inside the restaurant, i noticed a hockey jersey on the wall, only to learn later that the place was owned by a canadian. on my second night, i stopped, with the ash-surfing gang, to a local comedor. the place consist of a tiny room, which is open on the chef s living room. basically, we're sitting in someone's house, and while the big lady is serving us, we can enjoy the baseball game - national sport here- along with her husband which is sitting on the sofa, by the tv. talking baseball, nicaraguans refer to 'el presidente' as to Dennis Martínez, the first Nicaraguan baseball player to play in Major League Baseball, with Montreal' Expo !

on the next, i took off for estelli, the main coffee region in the country. i was sort of lucky, as one of the brother of the farm passed by the coop where i was heading to get more info. he drove me to the family's house, where i got to spend the night. i was super well fed with excellent local homa made food. on the next morning, we visited the premisses of this fantastic organic coffee farm with senor canales and his older son, milton. we went back to the house only to eat a gigantic traditional breakfast with rice and beans, eggs, cheese, orange juice, and, is it necessary to mention it, coffee. i then bus-ed around untill matagalpa, another major coffee region where the museum of coffee stand - nothing less then a joke - a few pictures here and there, some documentation, that s it, really. still i managed to visit a coop nearby and chat with them about what is known as 'fair trade' coffee. i got really late in granada, nicaragua's first colonial city, where a comfy dorm bed was waiting for me in a replica hostel of lazybones, hospedaje oasis. i woke up early to stroll around and soke in the atmosphere of this vibrant and colorful city. the city is pleasant, well maintained, the architecture is beautyful, the markets are full and loud, the parque central and its cathedral, majestic.

when the mayan civilization was crumbling apart in mexico, a prophecy came to the hears of the most wise and sacred man. the prophecy mentioned that the mayans would have to flee south from mexico, in search of a perfect land, a land made with 2 volcanoes that would be surrounded by wather. this land is today known as isla ometepql. straight out from a fairy tale, this island could have been drawn from any little 4 year old princess: a big lake, with, at its center, 2 volcanoes that connect through a thin layer of earth. this, is where i am. after a smooth 3 hours boat ride from granada, i am officially in heaven, where there is nothing to do but relax, hike, horseride around and beach buming. an excursion is planed for tomorrow.

you gotta fight. for your right. to...

now i know that i m a gringo. and that for this same reason, i m suppose to have loads of money. and suppose this is true. would that mean that i would have to pay more then the double of what is due ? would that mean that i should get rape by every taxi in town ? would that mean that i d bend uppon stupid rules elaborate tu suck up more from gringo s pocket ? hell no. whatever the taxi says you fight and don t let go untill the final price has been divided by 2. on a boat to a fantazy island, they tried to make me pay extra for a hand luggage. good luck with that. in my guide book, it says that my room is 3 bucks. not for, not five, not six, 3 damn bucks. i ended, after much debate over which yesr my book was published - he argued it was 2 years ago, and he was right - paying 4 bucks, BUT, i ve manage to to pull in a full hour of internet - worth one dollar - of which i am planning to use fully and wisely to WARN future gringos to fight for your right ! we might be gringos, but we re no less dumbsuckers, entiendes ?

traveling and running

traveling around in central america for a lengthy period of time is not unlike running. at first, your excited and primed. but soon, fatigue takes place, you feel like you can t catch your breath. your stumick starts to hurt and burn. after 2 weeks in the isthmus (my rough guide keeps mentioning this term as for central america and i thought i d look intelligent using it), i really feel that my trip as taking off. i feel comfortable traverling around, i m getting better at finding those remote coffee farms and generally take more time to appreciate. in short, i m up and running and the stumick burn - you know what i mean - is chose du passee. this does not mean that one learn from his experience; i m playing it less safe - but more cool - then before, eating more and more in local comedor, grabing stuff on the bus from the annoying vendors, and even using tap water to clean rinse my toothbrush.
i had plan to write more about this country that i love, nicaragua, but as my pancakes with a nasty mountain of fresh fruits are waiting and it is formally forbidden to eat at the hostel s free internet, i ll go straight to the pancakes !
later :-)

Honduras

i won t wright much about santa rosa de copan. other then the town was pleasant, other then we had a fairly nice hotel that included a continental breakfast, writing more about it would be an excercise of creative writing. after all, this was just an over night, en route to copan ruinas town. a friend of mine mentioned, before i left, that tikal was to rome was copan is to florence. i got to know what she meant only on site, where, while visiting the museum of mayan sculpture, we got to learn that copan was the the city where science and arts (therefore all the scupltures) was at the centerstage of all activities. the ruins themselves are not less impressive. they might not have the heights and grandeur of tikal, but they surely rander a very well organized society. there are still at least 3 pyramids that are impressive, plus a channel of underground tunnels makes the experience a travel back in time, where you can see how while constructing newer pyramids over time they managed to preserve older ones.
such a rewarding experience was soon cooldowned with another full journey of chicken-busing. at 7am the next day we were en route to san pedro sula and transiting towards lago de yojola. the hotel we were aiming for was highly considered by my guidebook, and as marie-pierre was leaving soon, we were ready to loosen-up on those lempiras. turned out to be a shady, both nice and horror-picturesque-like in its mood, kind of hotel. the service was crap. the food, horrible. there was less then a handful of people around. i got sick on the next day and i suspect the chef from having done dodgy things to my food. we ask for a chicken sandwich before our excursion. turned out there was no bread. no bread, no sandwich. at night, they had a wine option, which we badly needed after an intense hike. turned out there was wine, but, the guy in charge of opening the wine scellar was not there. no wine. on the next morning, both of our plate lacked ham. it sucked. our loge sucked. fortunately, the view, on the lake, was fantastic. when the sun set, we had an intense orchestra of birds singing, which i taped.

the hotel was, minimally, situated between 2 national parks. at least we had good hikes around. transportation is present in this area but not common nor practical. we hitchiked a ride. susana stopped and drove us to a junction where we had to bride a bus driver to drop us even further at the entrance of this remote area which is parque nacional cerro azul meambar. the road that leads there stop to actually be a road half way through (i took picture of the workies making the cement tracks badly needed to get there). the hike was steap, sweaty, but fun. from up the mountain we had a super view of the surrounding and the lake. on the way back, a small to medium waterfall brang a welcoming breeze.

on the next day, susana, with whom i had exchanged phone numbers, picked us up right from our hotel. the women was a sweety-pie, driving us around to parque las naranjas, walking the walk with us in this swampy mangroove like environement. then drove us to another parc, catarata de pulhapanzak the main attraction here is a fat-ass 43 meters cascade and waterfall. impressive, noisy and wet comes to mind. up the waterfall, theres a nice break where we swimed before falling asleep to a comfortable and steady sssshhhhhhhhhhhh. we went back to a different city and hotel, wich wasn t out of fancyness. on that night, both m-p and i got stumick-sick.

next day was second to last for m-p. destination was tegucigalpa, where she was taking of the day after. we had the whole day ahead to get there and stroll through the city. but. what was suppose to be a usual easy chicken bus ride to final destination quickly morphed into a nightmare. not more then an hour after we took off, the bus stop. and so did everything else on the street. we patiently waited. for too long. after an hour of inactivity and very few info on what exactly was going on (there seemed to have been some sort of accident somewhere, with dangerous chemicals on the ground). small cars were going through, but not buses or trucks. people from every buses slowly started to get out on the street, in little groups, hoping a car would stop. we did the same, but seperated from other groups of people. we were lucky. not less then five minutes later, a young and dynamic couple stoped by: melissa and aaron. better news had yet to come: they were also heading to tegucigalapa ! they were super nice with us, entertaining, curious, two well educated (an architect and a psycho student) early 30ies, wealthy hondurians. what was suppose to be a 3 hours drive took, in the end, not less then 8. to make a long story short, at 4 am that morning, a nonchalant cow passed by the highway. a truck driver, probably fighting between a fried piece of chicken and the weel, saw it one second too late, abruptly turned the weel, with consequence of crashing the truck on the side, cracking the tank, and spreading out its toxic content.

on the next day, i found a newspaper that mentioned that the road we took had been blocked from 4am to 6pm. good thing we didnt waited in that chicken bus... our car got through by passing through a long detour on a dirty, bumpy road along small ugly-bizzare little towns. trucks and buses couldn t go through.

on the last night of our trip together, we booked a nice, leafy hotel, el colonial, right beside the cathedral. we went to a very popular local restaurant, which was loud with live music, heavy on karaoke, and packed with beers (and there drunk acolytes). m-p left on the next day, leaving me alone in honduras. on that day, i hired senor fuentes, a truly honest type with a pick-up truck. we were successful in finding at least one farm, which was very informative. an ancestral house was on the premisses and the farmer, really helpful and pro-active.

that was it for honduras. dunno yet, but not sure it will be my favorite country in central america. this statement is totally unfair, since i ve been here only for a very few days, but it s my feeling.
I ve now been for a single day in nicaragua and yet i love it. very promising.

2 words: beginners. luck.
i tried for 2 hours. blame it on the lack of waves. blame it on stronger understreams, blame it on uneven breakpoint. i say yesterday was ginners luck. i ll try again either in nicaragua or costa rica for sure. what is important is that i have learned something out of this experience. that would be: back of your knees will burn as fast as a baby s but when you are lying on your board. in fact my whole face and ears pealed off due to major sunburn. i d like to think it s my own way to start my thirties with a new skin. we spent the whole day beach-buming. this include pina coladas and dirty siestas on the beach (thanx to a big rock that would allow us some shade). at night, another grilled fish with mushrooms and camarones. definitely not bad since its my second in that many days.

playa el tunco hasta puerto la libertad. puerto la libertad hasta guatemala city. eat, blast through the city. san salvador hasta el poy, fighting with a tuk-tuk driver over one dollar (we one, after marie-pierre rised a menacing finger). el-poy hasta santa rosa de copan. that is the price for blazing through 3 countries in 3 days. not that we feel that we have been missing a lot (as for some of these countries our books were really shallow. el salvador and honduras are difinitely not your tipical touristy hang out. most of the time the infrastructure is just not there). but we did spend an entire day bussing around...
more soon.

El Salvador, suite

there is something unmistakably fun, like kid-fun, about sitting in the trunk of a pick-up truck. when this happens on Rutas de las flores, the kid-fun morphs in awes and jaw-dropping moments. we got to the coffee finca after some real hard bumpy roads (the pick up trucks are not only for the fun part, they are also an absolute must to get where you need to go in one piece if you count on taking any other road then the highway). the finca was a very small lot (Blue Bottle had bought coffee here in the past). no chemical, hand picked coffee cheries. in opposition to guatemala, a lots of farms here grows the cherries but do not process it (depulpation, drying, un-shelving, taking out imperfect beans, and finally packaging). they send there goods to recibidos where they do exacactly this. our chaufeur then drove us to Ataco a very small but equally attractive town along rutas de las flores. the town was pleasant, and safe ! it was fun to just hang around. our hotel was a treat, a little jewel pearched on top of a small hill with views on the village. following a recommendation from a local, we went for our first pupesas at a little corner comedor called Las gemeles. didn´t expect much of these but they turned out to be much more interesting to eat. proof of this is that i ordered 2 but ate 5 all together, with a cold beer, this is A1 comfort food. at 30 cents a piece, one can does not have to be shy ordering more and filling belly. a gulp of cold beer will help you sinking one more down even when you think you´re about to explode.

on the next morning (by now i lost track of time and days), we visited a farm and a recibidos, they were doing both. it was interesting to see the different quality standard and control between a batch of coffee for america (starbucks) and coffee for europe (illy). nonsurprisingly, starbucks tolerate considerably more deffects then their european counterpart.

we went back to the village to grab a coffee in the first coffee shop we crossed that seemed to be serious about what they were doing and serving. they had an interesting, locally made roaster which they started for us, we roasted a batch from a fine farm near by. in exchange for sharing this knowlege, i offered a crash course 101 on how to work best with their grinders, machine, hygiene and then some latte art. it was a lots of fun, everyone enjoyed, and it felt nice to exchange knowlege from one end to the other (roasting to actually pouring shots and steaming milk).

we left for the beach, a long trip with a connection at Sonsonate. we got in Playa el Sunzal just in time for the sunset. i had a very decent fish with mushrooms and shrimps, and my all favorite for beaches: pina colada.

march 7. by now i know the date because tomorrow i´m turing three zero. i got a master plan for today: by 30, i´ll be able to surf. that´s right. one day to learn how to surf before i´m actually turning old. we took a one-hour lesson, in which i took 3 waves. the first one, i hate water in every hole where water could fit. the second one, i was up on my board long enough to enjoy the ride. by the third attempt, i was surfing from the wave to the coast :-)
i think by now i´m ready to turn thirty: tomorrow, i´m renting a board for the whole day.

n.b.: i can now legitimily wear my OP (ocean pacific) swimsuit without being a poser.

Guatemala to El Salvador

the day before leaving Lago Atitlan, we were looking quite desesperately for a place to eat. not a place full of gringos. we found a little comedor, not a single white faces in there, not mentioned neither in my Rough guide or marie-pierre Lonely planet. sure, the place looked really authentic and this is what we wanted, but thoughts of spending the next 12 hours or shitting our asses off made us thought twice before actually getting in there. even more so: we knew we were spending the entire next day in buses in transition to El salvador. god knows you do not want to have diaharea in a chicken bus. what the hek, we decided to live dangerously and went up for it. the food was great (chicken broth soup with vege, a full plate of fried chicken, peas, a juice - i´m still not sure from what fruit but it was tasty- all this with the enivitable but so comforting tortillas de mais). The whole thing was ridiculously cheap, and while we were there and eating real food with other natives, we felt quite fulfill, in all its meaning.

we cought a chicken bus early on the next morning. for those whom have never been in such dangerous but fun transportation, here´s how it goes: the outside of the bus is always, de facto, highly colorfull. their run on schedule, but these serves only as guidelines and are not binding. the one we were waiting for got there earlier then expected, totally counter culture, so it cought me in the middle of my coffee, which i had to sink down, cuz they just don´t wait. how they function: one guy is in charge of yelling the directions. he will help people with luggages or stuff to sale for inside the bus, and then collect the money for the ride. the bus driver drives. drives like crazy. drives madly, like there´s no tomorrow. inside the bus are more colours, stickers of all sort, in most cases music latina or hits from the 80 ies. in one case, there was evec a t.v. with the original videoclip from the 80 ies. that was so entertaining it made me forgot that my life was threatned with an eminent accident, fatal car crash.

we got to guatemala city, but just outside the center. we were more or less lost in a chaotic city of 3 million known more for its crime scenes and gang then anything else. we fought with a bunch of crazy taxi drivers to understand where we were and how much it would cost to get where we wanted. marie-pierre totally lost nerve with them (they are more then anoying) so we opted for public transport, which ended up to be smart, something like 15 cents instead of 30 dollars. Guatemala ciudad is frentic yet ugly. there is one exception with the parque central: nice cathedral, nice municipal building, a fountain, some pigeon feeders...
We ate city food: vegetarian toffu, chicpeas salad and other helathy stuff that we knew would not be available for the rest of our trip.

the bus from guatemala ciudad to san-slavador was suppose to pass every hour or so. not so. we had to wait for 3 hours. again some bargaining. we met a bus driver from the company with which we were traveling and got a considerable discount. great. this interstate bus was nicer then average chicken bus but something was off with the a|c and it felt more like a freezer. we got to santa ana at it was 8h30pm and dark. very dark. the city, was dead. everything: closed, shut down. el salvador is struck with an epidemilogical gang problem. when it s dark, it´s simply time to go to bed. you don´t hang around, you don t walk around, you do not fuck around. we were scared, we saw a lots of military and police patrolling the streets. after a walk that seemed like an eternity, we finally saw an hotel open, with a guard with a hughe gun (bazooka ?). We went up for the guidebook recommendation, wich was shut, there was someone, but the dueno wasn´t there, so no way to open the metallic gate. the second recommendation was a small hostel serving both tourist and as a hub for your 2 hours siesta with your favorite prostitute. it is quite handy has they hang right in front of it. we went to bed, only after fighting with 2 mosquitoes and one hughe, enormous cockroach.

we woke up next morning in a different city. colorfull, lots of action, plenty of tiendas, big market, very nice parque central with the cleanest neo-gothical cathedral scene so far, sparkling white, a nice theatro and a municipal building with arcades. we had a super nice breakfast with huevos, chorizzo, avocados and a malaria pill, as usual. we took off to Rutas de las flores, a nice road rich with farms of all sort, fruits, cereals, flowers and ofcourse coffee. In Ahuachapan, the first city to start the road, we were recommended to go to a particular office as for our coffee inquireies. There we met Ruth, the mother that everyone needs in vacation. Ruth was super helpfull regarding the farms we wanted to visit. more then that: she fed us with cookies, coffee, she placed half a dozen calls to arrange something for us, including a driver with a pick-up trucks, a tour to those specific farms i wanted to visit, and a nice hotel in a beautyfull village nearby. we didn t know ruth. ruth didn t know us either. i don´t think we will see her again either. it´s fair like this. plain generosity. we also took off with two hat from her organization, one blue sky for marie-pierre, one black for me.
will continue this journey shorty as marie-pierre is waiting for me for a pina-colada by the side of the beach...

3 shorts and sweet flashback concerning last post:
1- while we were ascending the volcano, we were also facing the strongest winds. Strong enough to move our little group in big waves
2- the macchiatto (o cortado come se llama aqui) tasted had the strongest notes of vanilla I have ever tasted. I think the fact that it was a single origin (and not a blend) has something to do with it.
3- the guy whom we met randomly and drove us around for hours in search of coffee farms had a name: Dario. He was more then kind, more then generous with his time, knowlege and friendship. It is those people and encounters that contribute to make our trip real and genuine.

u think it s going to be a walk in the park, cause after all, u did sign up with a group. How tough could it be, considering that anyone could be part of this 14 people group (old, young, disabled etc) ? Answer is¨seriously demanding. Ascending Guatemala s most active volcano was much more demanding then expected. The hike was stiff, first through a dense layer of vegetation that was, going up in elevation, scarcing. Way up there is the moon; black sand, pitch black rocks, a non-stop smoking crater and yes, lava and more rocks, spitted-out from the volano s mouth. Very, very impressive. The earth under our shoes was hot. Some people lose their soles.
Antigua. Nice, charming little colonial town. Next: a full day, with private pick-up truck driver, in search of the best coffee farms, fincas. Out of 2, we found one very interesting farm, San Jose Ocana. Learned a bit about the very practical stuff, 101, that we people who work in coffee shops miles away from the land where coffee actually grows have no idea.

Lake Atitlan is a nice sight, surrounded by mountains and many volcanoes (at least 3...). We took a boat to 3 different locations around the lake, onw of which i drank an amazing cortado (macchiatto) and another one (santiago) where we assisted to an incantation kind of ceremony to a Mayan God. That was something...
Now heading to El Salvador...
Later.