Have Itch, Will Travel

Despite its beautiful beaches and party reputation ("Spring Break!"), I actively avoided Cancún and instead stayed a couple of nights on Isla Mujeres , about twenty minutes by ferry off the coast. It wasn't much different to the mainland though, and I should've figured that out when the ferry ride was flawless and speedy. Almost every time I was headed to paradise, it was fraught with difficulties. The gorgeous Playa Blanca off the coast of Cartagena took all of the better part of the day to get to, while the boat to San Blas was two days of straight sailing on my back or with eyes fixed on the horizon. Bocas del Toro required long bumpy bus rides on shitty roads and all it did was rain the days I stayed. Though the weather was perfect over the Corn Islands, I had no time to endure the days of travel over rough terrain and wetlands , and no money for the alternative flight. I opted to enjoy the Bay Islands instead but had to scrap that idea when the weather got

The ruins of Chichen Ítza were ruined by the presence of souvenir vendors on the site. Apparently the land is owned by a private citizen who makes more than a few bucks by allowing these people to sell shit if they pay a kind of tax. So the place is littered with people trying to sell poor quality souvenirs who hassle you and get in the way of your otherwise perfect shots. If you visit Chichen Ítza (and you should) please boycott this practice by buying your souvenirs at a stall outside of the site. Apart from those annoying distractions, Chichen Ítza was really cool. Not only did it have a stunning main temple, sacrificial temple and massive ball court, but there were so many amazing details by brilliant Mayan design that you have to see and hear to believe. The main temple had a certain number of levels and lines built into its design that corresponded to the stars or moon cycle. Twice a year, during significant times of the agricultural season, the pair of serpents gliding down

During my travels I had visited many gorgeous beaches of fine white sands, coconut trees gently swaying over calm turquoise waters, either fairly deserted, otherwise populated by friendly local folk. From the Caribbean coastline of Colombia to the islands of San Blas and Belize, I thought I had seen the most beautiful beaches in the world already. But then I arrived at Tulúm, on the Yucatán Peninsula of East Mexico. I really only wanted to visit the ruins because I was on a bit of a roll with ancient architecture and it happened to be on the way to Cancún. The ruins themselves were not spectacular after the likes of Tikal, which I had visited only shortly before, and the site was too clean and packed with tour groups compared to Tikal's wonderful peaceful jungle setting, that I would not have rated the place at all if not for one thing. It's location. Far out. Honest to god it was a surprise for me. I walked up the path, through the stone doorway and the incredible view ope

At the hostel, I met Lacey and Isaac who recognized me from Lanquín. I realized later that they were the couple who stayed in the dorm next door, but had left the day after I had arrived. On the island as well were more of the gang from Lanquín and Flores. Caye Caulker was what I had been hoping Bocas del Toro would be. You could see the gorgeous water as you strolled down the sandy main drag while rastas rode by on their old skool white walled bikes and golf buggy taxis trundled about carrying tourists. Though hugely touristy, it never felt crowded and maintained its chilled out vibe. A great part of this vibe had to be credited to the rasta type folk there who spoke their pidgin English. Dreads were worn everywhere, sometimes tucked under big knitted hats. While Isaac spent the day diving at the legendary Blue Hole, Lacey joined me and Nicole on a Raggamuffin snorkeling tour of Shark Ray Alley and Hol Chan Reserve. As soon as we arrived at Shark Ray Alley , the fish appeare

I was warned by everything and everyone about safety in Latin America. Websites, guide books, my family, friends, even total strangers would warn me not to trust anyone, to set cab prices before getting in, to watch my luggage at all times, to keep my valuables within sight... all of the sensible things one should do when traveling. So I was well informed about various scams, guarded about pick-pockets and bag snatchers. It was inevitable that I would encounter at least one loss due to unscrupulous human activities. I had heard many stories, but have been lucky so far. But no one warned me about that which I would end up losing my things to. My forgetfulness. I have a terrible memory. If I just met you, I won't remember your name, even if we've been hanging out for the last four days. I don't remember birthdays unless you're direct family, nor do I remember anniversaries, long weekends and other important dates. I have a terrible sense of direction which is mostly due t

From Lanquín, nearly everyone was headed to Flores , and I took a shuttle with the people from the caves (not cave people, but the four I did the bat cave tour with) to the tiny island. It's a cute touristy place with nothing to do but walk around and go for a dip in the lake. It is so small that if you stand in the main plaza at the center of town, you can see the edges of the island from each of the four sides of the square. The hostel Los Amigos was pretty nice and had amazing vegetarian food. There, I met more people from Lanquín, crazy Canadian girl Cathy, and later met up with Nini again and her friend Asaf. It was lucky that when the shuttle first dropped us off we managed to get accommodation without having booked ahead. Nick and Suzi got their room, but there was only one dorm bed left. Tom graciously gave it to me and took a hammock for the night. If you're headed that way, it might be a good idea to book a bed. Some people recommend taking the pre-dawn shuttle

It was difficult to resist the promise of thousands of bats flying over you as they exited their cave. Maybe I should've gotten my rabies shot. But I joined the Lanquín Cave tour with Nick, Suzi, Caroline and Angel. We explored part of the enormous limestone cavern and our guide pointed out the usual formations in the stalagmites and stalactites. Having seen the Reed Flute Caves of China, I wasn't terribly impressed. If you've seen one limestone cave, you'll have seen this one. But it had bats! So we sat at the mouth of the cave at dusk and the lights were turned out. A few started early and quietly left the cave, but not long after, there was a steady stream of tiny bats fluttering over us. They were so quiet, you could hardly tell that they were about if not for our camera flashes and torch beams. In fact, they were so quiet we didn't realize that they weren't just flying over us, they were also flying about us. But Suzi felt one brush past her head, a

On a tour organized by El Retiro Lodge , the group was herded into the back tray of a truck and headed to the Kan'Ba Caves . We each stripped down to our swimming gear, were given candles, and followed our guide into the cave where an underground river flowed. We started by wading about single file in candlelit darkness, but soon, the floor dropped and we found ourselves swimming with one hand in the freezing water while trying to keep our candles aloft. Submerged rocks scratched at our feet, but it was all worthwhile to be able to bomb dive into limestone pools, slip down into the water on a smooth limestone slide, scramble over rocks and scale a wall with a rope against a waterfall. We emerged from the cave shivering and pleased with the little adventure. After that, we did a bit of tubing in the Cahabón River , all linked up and giggling. Then, it was a short trip to Semuc Champey , the reason we had come to Lanquín in the first place. There was a difficult hike up to th

I jumped into the back of a shuttle headed for Lanquín and when we stopped for a toilet break about an hour or two outside the small town, our driver got on his phone to confirm everyone's room bookings. "It's the weekend, so even if you have booked, it is good to confirm just in case," he said. Hmmm, I thought. I had lost track of the days and knew that I should have booked for a weekend, but didn't realize that it had crept up on me. Fortunately, the driver offered the phone to those who didn't already have a booking. So I spoke the person on the other end, not knowing what the name of the place was, where it was or how much I would be parting with. My only consolation was that it was the same place that several of the other backpackers in the shuttle were staying. I asked the German girls, Christiane and Rebecca, what the place was supposed to be like. They told me it was called El Retiro Lodge and assured me that they heard it was great. And it was.

I visited the beautiful Lake Atitlán a few hours from Antigua. The lake itself wasn't as beautiful as say, Lake Titicaca, but it was surrounded by a landscape of volcanoes , and you know how I like volcanoes. I met a couple of super polite Texan rancher brothers (as in "Yes, ma'am" polite) and a Thai woman who was really nice as well. We visited the towns around the lake, observing the locals in their day to day lives and being hassled by the ones trying to sell scarves, bracelets and the like. If you have ever been to Bolivia and been harassed by the locals who see tourists as walking money bags, then you know Lake Atitlán, though I think they were worse here.

Apart from some beautiful and interesting ruins a few blocks away (and a touch expensive at Q30 entrance each), and being such a cute place, Antigua offered a popular day trip to Volcán Pacaya , which promised getting up close and personal with the active volcano 's lava flow. Ooh, how could anyone resist at only 8USD inclusive? My roomie had done the tour the day before and suggested bringing marshmallows and investing in a stick that would become handy later. So I signed on. The group was dropped at the base of the volcano by a shuttle where young kids offered us walking sticks for Q5. Our guide led us up, pausing occasionally to allow us to take in the incredible views (we got to see another volcano in the distance give off some fresh black smoke) and our breath. It was a hard hike for me; probably the hardest hike I've been on. Steep, involving climbing over rocks and pushing against loose sand and gravel. Near the top, it started to get warm, then hot as we passed ove

I was out walking in the old town of Antigua , headed towards one of the fabulous ruins within walking distance. Antigua is such a touristy place that I felt quite safe, safer than when in most other places, but a few steps onwards and a bad feeling came over me. I looked around and consciously realized there was only myself and one other person on the street. Usually I feel safe if I'm the only one on the street or if it is busy with foot traffic. When there is only one or two other people around, I get a bit nervous, since my mind likes to suspect them of being potential muggers. Anyway, that was exactly the case at the time. The other person was a young guy who was walking the same footpath as I, in the same direction but ahead. I kept my distance. Unfortunately, he decided to do a 180 and start walking towards me. Though I kept my pace and route to appear cool, I was wired to react to any movement aimed at me. I was lucky to have been so paranoid and prepared, because my instin

As soon as I arrived in the old town of Antigua , Guatemala, I was impressed. Cobblestones, colorful old façades and tile roofs, colonial buildings in various stages of renovation and disrepair. I found El Gato Negro hostel and checked in, quickly dumping my bag and heading out to explore in the perfect soft light of the setting sun. The hostel was decent, socialable and I can forgive the damp dorm (hidden mold set off one of the girls' allergies) because breakfast was included . Not just your marmalade on toast and a coffee kind of breakfast, but big hot ones, of pancakes and fruit, typical Guatemalan breakfasts, French toast and other delicious offerings that cost almost as much as what you pay for each night in total. The next day I dedicated to exploring the old city, looking for photo opportunities of the pretty streets and buildings. As I walked along one of the many picturesque streets, I turned around, wondering if a reverse view would be just as nice. What I saw was an al

I was looking forward to the Bay Islands and diving, but the closer the bus got to La Ceiba on the coast, the wetter the weather became. By the time the bus conductor called out "La Ceiba!" it was grey and partly flooded , I was cold and not looking forward to getting off. So I stayed on. The dreary weather seemed to put me in an apathetic mood. For two more hours I sat on the bus, watching the scenery change from coastal towns to the inner countryside, past banana plantations, farms and tiny villages. Apparently, we were bound for Olanchito , a place that wasn't mentioned in my guide book or marked on my map. When the bus finally reached the terminal where the weather was dry though overcast, I wondered if there was a bus back to La Ceiba since the little town didn't look like it had much in ways of accommodation for travelers. As fate would have it, there was only one daily bus and it was leaving in five minutes. The closer we got to La Ceiba , the wetter i

Like Cerro Negro in Nicaragua, I stopped in the middle of Honduras just to visit it. I had heard that the capital, Tegucigalpa, was a dangerous place and managed to pass through on an international bus from Léon, straight to San Pedro Sula ... reputed to be just as dangerous. I stayed at Tamarindo Hostel which was lovely and friendly, like a homestay, though its location was more than walking distance to any worthwhile places. Planning to head for Pulhapanzak Falls, I was resigned to taking a cab to the bus terminal. The streets around the hostel were quiet and I walked towards the main road, looking for a cab. But a micro pulled up and said he could take me to the terminal. He didn't. He took me to the mercado where he pointed at another micro that could take me to the terminal. There, I asked a random jalador where I could find a bus to "Pulhapanzak". "To Pulha?" he asked. Yes. He pointed, "To Pulha." I had been practising saying the town&#

Though I had only gone to Léon for Cerro Negro, I enjoyed my stay in the little colonial town. It had a great vibe about it, which reminded me a little of Trujillo in Perú; a friendly place for exploring by foot that felt safe. Every other way, it was completely different. Messy main plaza, a dozen-odd old churches, and most significant of all, evidence of the town's revolutionary spirit in the murals around the main square. I stayed in Sonati , a quiet little hostel big on the environment. It had a cute courtyard with hammocks, a good kitchen, übernice staff members and it was super clean. At only 5USD a night, it was a bargain. I recommend Sonati if you're looking for a nice clean and friendly place to stay in Léon.

What about that doesn't appeal to you? I first heard about the activity from Ruairi, who I met in Bogota. He had the beginnings of an impressive scar on his forearm, nearly extending from his elbow to his wrist. "Right now it looks like I have psoriasis, but it was actually a burn," he told me when I asked what he did to himself. I learned that he had been sandboarding down Cerro Negro in Nicaragua when he sustained the injury. A post-it fluttered into my brain. A lack of time meant I had to meticulously plan my movements and omit many sights I originally wanted to see. But the post-it note had long been transcribed with permanent marker somewhere between Colombia and Costa Rica, and I stopped in the nearby city of Léon just to tick it off my list. The popular hostel Big Foot offered sandboarding , but in the sitting down position, like, sandsledding. But I wanted to stand up. I checked out Tierra Tours and they offered it standing up. I signed on. The first pa

I wandered about the small town, sitting on the black beach and wondering what was so special about the place. I had only gone there to see the baby turtles hatching in the nearby national park, but there were never enough people who signed on to the tour that I left disappointed. But as a consolation, I took a shuttle from the hostel to Playa Madera and spent the day on the gorgeous beach there. The majority of the surfers used the main beach (quite flat that day), while swimmers crossed over the layered rocks to a section where water was clear, green and so calm you just float on it, without fearing a wave would crash over you. As the tide came in, the waves became larger and some decent surfing action could be seen. Soon, we were treated to a beautiful sunset over the horizon before the shuttle returned.

Still sleep deprived from New Year's Eve celebrations, Nini and I pulled ourselves from bed before dawn, making an early start for Isla de Ometepe . The chicken bus ride to the port town of San Juan kept us awake as we each fought for room to stand in, never mind personal space. It was a relief to take advantage of the two hour ferry journey for a nap, as the bus trip to Playa Domingo once we reached the island was bumpier than the minimal bumpiness required to keep a tired person awake. It was destined to be a lazy day, especially since the weather turned grey as soon as we arrived. The wind was incessant and cold, and sometimes a light sprinkling of rain would force us indoors. That evening, as Nini and I relaxed in the dorm, we talked about all the things we'd seen on our long trips and how it was about time that something happened to inspire another great blog entry. Buses getting stuck in lava pits and other such disasters entered the conversation, but there was a

Nini and I had lunch with a friend of hers from her earlier travels, Yair, and his current traveling buddy, Onn, and we agreed to all go out that night to celebrate the coming of the New Year. So, with another friend of Yair's and Onn's, Ali, we hit La Calzada to find something to eat. The place was alive with people, waiting out the end of 2009 with drinks in the alfresco cafes. We ran into the super nice American Peace Corp couple that Nini and I met in our dorm and had a few drinks with them. Since the clubs didn't really start until well after midnight, we decided to check out a local place, Cafe Nuit , for the countdown. The band stopped playing a few minutes to the hour and we waited in anticipation for the emcee to begin at diez . The seconds ticked on and there was no one leading the party. Suddenly, fireworks and cheers could be heard outside and everyone in the place blinked. Had we missed it? We were sure we had. So Nini began, "Five, four, three, two,