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 :-)
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
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.
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...
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
