like pulling teeth

I'm pretty sure that where we left off I was planning on heading into the jungle to see some monkeys the next day. As I was preparing for my trek into the unknown I decided to fortify my caloric intake with some Cool Ranch Doritos. I'm not a huge junk food guy but occasionally I like to slum it with some Doritos. So I was holed up in my room, just chilling out, eating some chips when I feel a big chunk of one of my teeth fall out. Yep, I am not kidding, about 20% of one of my lower molars just popped out. No pain, no warning, just came out like it was totally normal. I wish I could say was teaching the locals about the subtlties of street hockey cross checking or maybe breaking in my new machette against a wild puma, but no, just eating tortilla chips. Needless to say I was freaking out, not only because my tooth fell out but because I was in absolutely no pain and to be honest, after 20% of your tooth fell out, wouldn't you think you'd be in pain? This side note kinda freaked me out a little more. I have to admit I was not having an easy time falling asleep later that night. I got up early in the morning and made my way to a computer machine and started thinking about getting a flight back home. For laughs I did a google search about dental care in Central America and wouldn't ya know it, Costa Rica is getting pretty well known for high quality dental care with up to 75% lower costs. Most of the doctors are educated in America but practice in Costa Rica where the cost of living is sizably cheaper (I feel like a late night infomercial guy right now). I can only imagine that the Costa Ricans (Ticos) have not mastered the art of sueing in the way we Americans have, so liabity insurance has to be loads cheaper as well. So Sunday I made my way down from the mountains in to the lowlands of Managua, Nicaragua. Most international routes depart from Managua and I purchased a ticket for the following morning on a bus bound for San Jose. At this point I have to talk a little about Managua. Managua is a dump! The people I ran into were very nice, but there is tons of crime here. When I got out of the taxi near the bus station, I bought my ticket for the next days bus. As I exited the small terminal the local crackhead named Harold (who reminded me of Bubbles from The Wire) asked me if he could lead me to a hotel for a small donation of change, if I could afford it. Given, my hotel was only four doors down, but I didn't want to get stabbed so I agreed to let Crackhead Howard lead me four dours down, besides I was feeling generous and if you have seen The Wire you know that Bubbles is a good kid who has gotten into bad things, not violent, just lost. And Howard couldn't have been his real name, by the way, I mean how many Howard's have you heard of who are Latino? This was a first for me. The hotel was actually a house that also had some rooms and the people were very nice but apparently very concerned for my safety because they locked me in the house as soon as I entered. I decided to get a really late lunch and go to bed early to prepare myself for the 9 hour bus ride the following day. As I headed out into the wild Managuan concrete jungle, the owners of the hotel told me not to walk to the right, but head left and a good place was about 3 blocks away. This was 4 in the p.m. mind you. As I passed the bus station I gave ol' Crackhead Howard a few coins in my pocket and thanked him for his guide work. He thanked me and suggested that I don't go right or straight, as bad people lived down those streets. With wide eyes I asked him if it was OK to go left, which was putting me off my track in a fast way. He asked what I wanted, I told him food. He told me to go into the house that was right next to the bus terminal, only 3 doors from my hotel. He yelled at the lady who owned the house and she came out and let me into her breezeway area and gave me a menu. It seems that the locals provide a few basic services for bus travelers. As soon as I entered the breezeway she locked me in. I was beginning to wonder. Now, I might be a little naive in big city situations (I got a city guy named Rob that does all my city stuff for me) but I was beginning to think that this was not all that safe of a place! Feeling pretty good at my sloth like city reflexes/intuition I ate a delicious plate of chicken and mango coconut curry. I was shocked at how good everything was! When I finished, the nice lady unlocked the door for me, let me go and promptly locked me out. The sun had still to go down and I felt like I was in The Nam. I think the moral of this part of the story is don't go to Managua. I was loving Nicaragua before this, and will definitely make my way back up here but i'm gonna do everything I can to stay out of Managua in the future. An hour after this I was getting thirsty and wanted to buy a 2 liter bottle of water. The local store was a house that was two doors down from my hotel, so as the sun was setting I bought a 2 liter bottle of water holding my machette. I'm not kidding! Even Crackhead Howard saw me and hot stepped it to the other side of the street. When I retune to the hotel and the door was locked behind me once again, I decided to not tempt fate and I stayed in the hotel for the rest of the night. I have been bookless for almost a week now so I watched Nicaraguan cable, which was suprisingly delightful. The next morning I got to my bus and took off with a painfully raw tongue from french kissing the sharp edges of a tooth that there a mere 36 hours prior. The trip was long, but I had heard back from a few Dentists offices via email and was hopeful about getting this problem taken care of. Tuesday morning I hit up the US Embassy to see if they could recommend a dentist or help me in any way. They were suprisingly unhelpful, but a 60ish expatriate British/American citizen helped me out a bit. He heard me talking to the Embassy official and offered to drive me to his dentist who he gave rave reviews on. We took off, had a great conversation along the way about how good the British were at colonizing (he did most of the talking) and got to his dentist but they were quite busy. He was nice enough to come out in to the lobby and do a quick peek in my mouth but could not tell me anything until he could evaluate me fully, which couldn't happen until next week. Obviously I could not wait this long and called one of the people who had gotten back to me via email. I did a little research and the Dr graduated from UCLA med school and was highly touted on random past client testimonials. I went in for a consultation later in the afternoon and felt very comfortable with the professionalism of his staff, the entire office, and most importantly, the good doctor himself. He took some pictures, did some x-rays and gave me his diagnosis. Root Canal, OUCH! Good thing was he said we could do the prep work that day and do the actual procedure on Thursday. The estimate was also quite a bit lower than I expected although a random tooth falling out after eating Cool Ranch Doritos is a first for me so what do I know?! So, off I head to the dentist... in Central America... where I don't know a soul.... man, this doesn't sound good, does it? I suppose I can chalk this up to life experience.

o mama, mama look there, children out playing in the street again

Hit play on the video, then read on, it is merely a soundtrack for this post. This was the song stuck in my head as I headed for the border. Enjoy!



Hopped on a bus heading for the border of Nicaragua and I could not help The Clash from being stuck in my head. It has been 20+ years since the fighting stopped in Nicaragua's Civil War but there are still political tensions of the different parties that fiercly remain today. Murals of heroes in the war are painted on abandoned brick buildings and words like 'revolution' and 'wanted'

(this mural says, preacher, teacher, poet, fighter, revolutionary)

are spray painted everywhere on concrete walls down here but these words take on a whole different meaning, given the history. The first town I stopped in was Esteli, which was is a stronghold of Sandanista support. Esteli supported the Sandanista rebels during the civil war and payed a heavy price. In 1979 the town was carpet bombed by the Samoza dictatorship. Many women, children and old folks were amung the dead. The Sandanista forces were known to have holdings near the edges of town, but the Somoza forces (with the help of a US Marine airstrike) took out nearlythe entire town. It was an attack that was meant to dampen the spirits of the townsfolk and punish them for supporting the rebels but it actually deepened the support for Sandanistas and became a sort of 'remember the alamo' type of moment for the rebels.

Bullet holes are still visible on a few of the taller buildings that survived the carnage. A few years later the rebels were victorious and a few years after that we got into the Iran-Contra affair that most of us remember (hopefully). To meet the locals it is no wonder that their resolve is as strong as it is. The town (90,000 people) is very much a cowboy town with tons of hat and coot shops. Amazingly all the boots sold in these shops are still made in the shop with the help of very few machines. No factories here, just a bunch of strong men stretching the leather and beating the soles into place. An actual cobbler which intersted me greatly given my last name (insert smart ass comment here). I stopped in a shop to talk with the owner who was nice enough to tell me a little about the process but our conversation was cut short when some actual paying customers came in. Lots of ranching which made me feel like I was in a Cormac McCarthy novel. I made my way to a local musem El Museo de Heroes y Martires (The Museum of Heroes and Martyrs). It is a sort of VFW for mothers of soldiers lost in the civil war. Most have aged into grandmothers who had lost children in the violence and all had stories and strong opinions about the war. Given, they were all Sandanista supporters (in fact, this museum was started by the FSLN rebels although it is 100% funded by donations from visitors) but you could still see the despair in losing loves ones in their eyes. Nicaragua is a very young country (something like 75% of Nicas are under 30) and these museums act as a reminder to the young'uns of the sacrifices their family and friends had made. The museum was filled with head shots of many people who had died during the conflict. I could not help but feel haunted by some of the blank stares at the camera, knowing that they had died in the fighting. The ladies were hanging out and talking with each other and there was a sign in the musem that said if you had any questions about anything to ask. I was planning on it but they were in a heated debate over the lunch that was just served and I didn't want to disturb them. That night I tried to go to a local bar called Rincon Legal. It is supposed to be a very strong Sandanista bar, but I could not find it. As with many things in my guide, the infor mation is wrong or out dated or just put on the maps in the wrong place. Frustrating when you're trying to do a little drinking with a ex-guerilla. Not a whole lot to do in Esteli, per se, so I headed to the next town of Matagalpa. Matagalpa seemed to be an even stronger Sandanista stronghold. Spray painted slogans were everywhere.

(Daniel refers to Daniel Ortega, the current President and face of the party)

In front of a bank I took this photo and the guard walked outside and gave me the ol' fist to his chest then raised it in the air. Obviously he felt happy that I was taking pics of his slogans. In fact, he might have been the fella who tagged the building and was happy that I had stopped to admire his work, I don't know.

(this poster says, "Wanted for Stealing" and then "Did you vote for this thief?" and the picture is someone I don't know but can only assume is the opposition leader)

I spent the day walking around town and taking in the few sights. I'm planning on heading further up into the mountains to do some hiking in the jungle tomorrow. I hear there are monkeys up in them woods and I havent seen any yet.

frustration, playfulness and hope

We had heard from crazy Captain Perry that a pretty significant storm was gonna move in the following afternoon. He made a joke saying that if we were gonna stay on the island that we'd better be prepared to stay for about 6 days, cuz that was how long the storm was supposed to last and the ferry won't run back and forth in bad weather. The girls had to get their flight and I really wanted to stay but not in a storm where I wouldn't be able to swim or snorkle or lay on the beach. Besides, Roatan is a bit more expensive than anywhere I have travelled so far this trip and it wasn't the kind of money I wanted to spend sitting in my room. So we caught the 7am ferry and made it across no problems. I left Sue and Melissa at the bus station where I made my way to the Mayan ruins of Copan. I decided to splurge on a luxury bus for a change and made my way without a hitch. I got a cheap hotel and woke up in the morning to discover the ruins. I found myself really bored. The ruins were cool and all but I was a bit homesick for the first time on this trip. I have been enjoying myself traveling alone so far, but having the company of good friends made me really miss it. As I walked around the ruins and saw the cool sculptures



I found myself wanting to share random thoughts with some friends that weren't there. I know it will pass but at the time I was just missimg my friends. The town of Copan was nice enough, quaint with nice cobblestones and a cool little central park. Its' population is only about 7000 people, so it really has a nice small town feel, but the ruins are pretty famous and well traveled so they are very used to having gringos running all around. I finished a book in the afternoon and went to bed rather early because I was a bit tired from all the walking around. I happened to get up at 4 in the morning and wanted to leave so I packed my stuff and caught the 5am bus towards Tegucigalpa. I think I was just ready for a change of scenery. I had to make a change in San Pedro Sula (i'm so tired of this place by now) and made it to Tegucigalpa by 2pm. The capital city is know for being a bit of a haven for pickpockets and gang members as most Central American cities are, so I made my way towards the border of Nicaragua and slept in a small agricultural town named Danli (pronounced like someone with the name Dan Lee). On the last bus of the day I fell in love with 4 year old Josephina Martina Mercedes Vera Cruz. She was sitting in front of me and we started playing a game of peek-a-boo. Her mom was so happy to have someone else entertain her that she fell asleep. Me and Josephina spent the next hour where she showed me how the seat belt automatically retracts every time (over and over and over), she corrected my pronunciation of her name and made me repeat it until I got it right, and we later regressed into another game of peek-a-boo. After we were about to get off the bus at our destination she made me repeat her entire name just to make sure I didn't forget it. Her mom, Josephina and myself shared a cab into the town center where we said 'adios' to each other about 10 times and I checked into my hotel. That was such a great thing to see a happy, smiling, little Latina firecracker and play with her for a while. My last night in Honduras was spent watching the Denver Nuggets beat the Cleveland Cavs in overtime on a Spanish speaking channel which keptthings in perspective. It was a good contrast of normal vs exotic that put me back into the travel mode and happy to be on the road again. I'm very much looking forward to Nicaragua as I have heard great things about the people, cities and history of the country from many a traveler. Numerous people I have talked to have spoken very highly of Nicaragua, even to say it was the hghlight of their trip so far. I'm not putting any unrealistic expectations on the place, but I am definitely looking forward to discovering it. Hopefully some good stories will be made!

catching up on no internet

I got up today, rolled over in bed and decided to buy a machette. Perhaps it's a strange thought to have first thing in the morning but it just seemed like the thing to do. So I strapped on my flip flops and made my way into the streets. There are tons of machettes around, it seems everyone has one. People use them to mow their lawns (no joke), trim the trees around the house... actually, they use them for anything that you could use any type of blade for. Think of a use and they use the machette! I suppose it makes sense because it's a cheap tool that can multi task for many jobs. I made my way to the block of stores that looked like they had building supplies and started shopping. Alas, no one had machettes. Perhaps they have a different term for a machette that i was not aware of, but I don't think so. I think they just didn't want a crazy gringo with a ridiculous mustache (yes I still have it!) running around town with a machette. After about 7 stores this persistent gringo found the machette store! A few people told me that a place called Maldonado's had what I was looking for, but the only directions I could get was general finger pointing, no cross streets or address. Finally I went into the last shop and they told me Maldonado's was right across the street. I turned around and, sure enough, there it was! The fine gentleman sold me a brand new machette, leather case with tassles and a file to keep it nice and sharp all for only about $18. And i'll tell you what, I thought that people down here were looking at me strangely before... now I am simply freaking them out! It must be their worst nightmare having a super tall gringo running around with a big blade, a terrible mustache and a goofy smile on his face all while speaking broken spanish with a Mexican slang accent. Actually now that I mention it it kinda frightens me, too. No worries, I decided that as soon as I see my friend Sue and there is someone to verify my mustache, I am going to shave it off. That should make the natives a bit less restless. And what did I use to shave the mustache with? Aw, Snap!!

I met my friend Sue in the afternoon at the ferry terminal and was very excited. She is the kind of super happy, super animated, big hearted friend that you can't wait to see and after a long abscence you jump right back into being best buddies again without missing a step! She brought along her friend and coworker Melissa who turned out to be really cool, extremely chill and a lot of fun. We all hit it off right away! Sue asked me, "what you got there?" and I told her the machette story. We laughed and started catching up on what was what. We got the 1 and a half hour ferry ride over to Utilla and arrived in the afternoon just before sunset. After settling into a second choice hotel we walked around, got a drink or two and found our way to a few really cool bars. One called Tranquilla Bar

had a great view of the bay from a boat dock. Another called Babalu had really good fresh fish and a big hole in the dock where they had lights set up and you could see the schools of fish float by. It had a definite fireplace feel as people were gathered around blankly staring at the intoxicatingly mellow vibe.

Then we went to a bar in a tree house called Treetanic that had a Swiss Family Robinson feel all built around a big ol tree. Sue had heard of this one bar that was only open one night a week (this night) so we set out to find it. It was called Bar in the Bush because it is inland somewhere but it had no signs or anything so it was a bit to find. In fact, we just followed the very loud music pouring from the inland part of the island until we came upon it. Too funny as there was no one there and the music was turned up to 11! We made it back to the hotel and could still hear the music in the breeze about a mile away. Glad we weren't too close or there would have been no sleep that night.

The next few days we did a lot of snorkling and sun tanning. We went to a boat dock that had a sign that stated it was a privat dock, no snorkling unless you buy a drink for a buck and a quarter, then you were cool. We had a beer each and jumped in, seeing all kinds of cool coral and little fishes. I don't have many pictures of this stuff because the brand new batteries for my camera that I bought were dead after about 10 pictures. I guess they were sitting on the shelf for a while, oh well. The next day we hopped on a little boat to a nearby caye. We snorkled around the edge of a little island and saw tons more cool stuff. The highlight was an eagle ray with a wingspan of about 4-5 feet. Really graceful and I was reminded quickly that this is not my element. I thought it stopped and looked at me/us and decided not to pounce, but i may have been a bit paranoid on that one. The next morning we hopped on a private catamaran and motored on over to Roatan. It took about 4 hours and was very relaxing. Roatan turned out to be a bit more to my liking, unfortunately Sue and Melissa were scheduled to fly out from the mainland in the morning. We had a lazy day andwent to a few bars in the evening. The highlight was a bar that was actually a ship. This crazy Canadian who lives down here had just finished building it and it was hilarious. It was docked at the time, but he had put a bar and a bunch of tables and stools on a floor over 3 pontoons with 2 bathrooms (port-a-pottys) and even a little crows nest on top of the bathrooms. He swaid he got all the necesary paperwork done and just rolls up to the beach when its crowded, beaches himself and puts out the plank for people to board the vessel. It was hilarious but not as hilarious as Captain Perry, the crazy Canadian who dreamed this up. He told us stories of dealing with the cops and private parties and heading out to more open water on calm days. I can't describe how hilarious this guy was. It was very nice to see someone who had a crazy dream and made it happen. It doesn't happen very often, that's for sure and definitely not as crazy as this guy's dream!

one dump to the next

After a pretty rough day of travel and a dodgy hotel for a night I was ready to take care of business and get to movin' on. First things first, I went to the bank and got some Lempiras and was feeling like a bite. As I was walking around I realized that there were a ton of fried chicken places. At first I thought it was just a coincidence (which I don't believe in) until I became more aware of my surroundings and realized that there are multiple chains of fried chicken places all ove Honduras! Some of the local chains include Pollo Indio (Native Chicken), Pollo Rey (Chicken King), Pollo Sabroso (Flavorful Chicken) and my favorite Pollo de Mi Gente (either 'Chicken of My People' or 'Chicken for My People' depending on the exact translation). The particular intersection I was standing on had a Church's, a KFC, some sort of department store and a Popeye's. Of course the New Orleans Saints had just won the Super Bowl (i'm a few days behind on the blog, give me a break) so I decided what better way to celebrate than with some fried chicken from a New Orleans chain. It was just as one would expect, greasy, juicey and tasty as all get out! I immediately thought of my friend Brian who is a big Saints fan and toasted a chicken thigh in his honor. Then my thoughts moved to my friend Colin. Colin would hate this country because they only give you one napkin per meal down here. On one hand you understand that paper goods are expensive and deforestation is a huge problem down here. On the other hand you have greasy fried chicken hands and there is no way that one little picnic napkin is gonna take care of one finger much less two hands. The reason this reminds me of Colin is amore than one napkin guy, much like myself. Perhaps this is why he holds his residence in Austin, Texas. You see in Austin BBQ (especially brisket) is huge.... I mean huge! There are BBQ joints on nearly very block down there. And when it comes to BBQ joints, they get messy with all that beef and pork and sausages flying around, so they just put rolls of paper towels on every table and let you have at it. Colin being who he is probably loves this although we have never gotten into the strategies of how to manage the non food inventory of restaurants in the greater Austin metropolitan area. My bet is that he would like the idea of paper towel rolls on every table of every restaurant. It is clear to me that the Popeye's chain does not share this philosophy as pertaining to its' Honduran franchises. Even when I asked for more napkins they stalled (clearly a corporate training tactic) until after repeated begging they gave in. But it's not just Popeye's (who dat!) but every restaurant that I have encountered in Honduras so far. Anyway, I digress. My next plan was to go to the beach town of La Ceiba which was 3 hours away. I found my way to the town and found it similar to San Pedro Sula in the fact that it too, was a dump. So far I am not overly impressed with the Honduran towns I have come into contact with. It's not that La Ceiba is all bad, in fact it really isn't even their fault, it is just one of those towns that plays second fiddle in almost every way possible and has a chip on its' shoulder because of it. You see, the capital of Honduras is Tegucigalpa and it is known for politics and the governing of the nation. San Pedro Sula is all about industry, labor and business and it is known for that. La Ceiba is the third town down Honduras' list and its claim to fame is that it knows how to party. In fact, a funny but true saying that I have heard is that Tegucigalpa thinks, San Pedro Sula works and La Ceiba parties. The only problem is that most people use La Ceiba as a jumping off point to go to the Bay Islands of Roatan and Utilla. Both are known for excellent and cheap diving with a great vacation atmosphere. So most people (tourists at least) who want to vacation/party go to these islands and use La Ceiba as a transit center. My point is that La Ceiba has no real identity and because they play second fiddle to everyone, they resent everyone for it. Tough to visualize without having been here but, no doubt, true. So I had found my way into another town with a penchant for crime and grit, great if you're looking for a Dashiel Hammet novel setting but bad if you are on an extended vacation, which my life is. Needless to say, I layed low in my hotel and took it easy once again. No worries, mon! Tomorow my friend Sue is flying in for 4 days and it should be tons of fun and quite different that traveling solo, i'm really looking forward to it!

bad luck vs good luck

This post is about two things, bad travel and the kindness of strangers. Today they went hand in hand with each other. Let me start with the forme. So I got up pretty early and was at the bus stop for an early bus into San Salvador and making my way east to somewhere close to the border between El Salvador and Honduras. I'm meeting my good friend Sue and her friend Melissa in Honduras in a few days, so I wanted to make my way east to be on time as they only have 4 days down here. While waiting for the bus to come a very nice surfer guy by the name of Javier gave me a ride into San Salvador (we will get to more on him later) and all of a sudden I was making great time (over an hour and fifteen minutes off my trip so far). I decided to go all the way acoss the border since I had a leg up, timewise. I got a taxi to a bus terminal, only to find it only served luxury busses and the next one left in 4 hours. So I got another taxi to the chicken bus terminal and my bus left in less than 3 minutes of me arriving, I love the chicken buses! Settling in for my 3 hour journey to the border I was shocked after one hour when the bus pulled off the side of the road and opened the hood. Of course, the bus had died and I had to wait for another one. A kind chap with a big smile on his face walked up to me as were standing on the side of the road and introduced himself. His name was Jose and he was the Pastor of a local church and had lived in the US for quite some time. As we talked he told me that I should get on the bus that was approaching us at that moment and catch a bus that was heading tio the border at the next junction, as this would be much safer for me. Apparently an abandoned gringo on the side of the road is like finding a $50 bill on the deserted sidewalk. Damn! It must be my lucky day! More on Jose later. I got on the bus that was coming, got off at the next junction and got on the next bus to the border, only this one was packed full, so much so that I had to throw my backpack on some poor guys lap and hold onto the bus as it sped away, with everyone except me inside the bus and absolutely no room to squeeze me in. My foot was in the step well and my hands were holding on for dear life as my core was outside the bus until the next stop. Luckily that was only a mile or two away. As I was getting settled on this next bus, feeling like a sardine, it breaks down. Now there were two bus loads of people waiting for another bus to come. Other buses came and picked us up rather quickly and again, we were off. I was standing in the middle of this bus, in the middle of the isle with about 25 people in the isle on either side of me, all the seats full, wondering why the hell I hadn't waited the 4 hours for the more upscale bus. Finally we got to the border and I got across with no problems. The first town in Honduras was called Nuevo Ocotepeque where I made my way to the bus terminal. I had had enough of the chicken bus drama for one day and decided to splurge for a $5 ticket for the last four hours of my journey for the day. I had just missed the previous bus by 15 minutes so I had to wait around or 2 hours for the next bus. Not ideal, but what are you gonna do, right? We finally get on the bus, I got a nice window seat and the guy in front of me looks at me and tells me i'm pretty tall and not for me to worry, he wasn't gonna put the seat back. Perhaps my luckwas changing for the better. 15 minutes into this leg of the trip my third bus of the day pulls off to the side of the road with a problem. I am not kidding! The driver got out and worked on the engine for 45 minutes, got the problem fixed and again we were on our way. An hour later, guess what happens? You get one guess.... ready... bus breaks down again, nice job on seeing that one coming. This bus was the last of the day to do this route and there was no other bus coming. The driver once again got the bus working and it stalled 100 yards later. This third bus must have broken down 10-15 times over the course of the trip. People were on their cell phones calling loved ones, some making arrangements for friends to pick them up where we were on the side of the road. They finally figured out the problem and we finally arrived at our destination of San Pedro Sula, Honduras (SPS) a few minutes after midnight (only about 4 hours behind schedule. To make things worseI had only changed a few dollars at the border and had only a few Lempira (the local currency) but enough dollars for a taxi and a room for the night. The only problem was, most people don't accept dollars as currency in SPS and many hotels that cater towards foreigners close around 10 pm. SPS is the second largest city in the country and let me tell you, it is a dump! Not the worst city i've been to, but think of Newark at midnight with no local currency (not to mention being a foreigner)... not a good combination. I was starting to become very anxious. This is where my third knight in shining armor came in. Throughout the last bus ride the riders bonded during our many break downs with a bit of 'what are you gonna do' mentality. The gentleman sitting in front of me was named Aldolfo, and he was keeping me up to snuff with the happenings of the bus. He had a very bright flashlight that the driver would use everytime the bus broke down, so he had the inside scoop on the happenings of the bus. He was also the guy who told me he would help me find a hotel in SPS (his hometown) and he was kind enough to change a bunch of dollars for me so I could pay for my taxi and hotel. The bus actually took us all the way downtown (feeling guilty for the 4 hour delay, taking us the extra few miles) so Aldolfo and I walked to the hotel instead of taking a taxi. The hotel was safe but not very clean or charming, but it was a room for the night. Actually this hotel is in my Lonely Planet guide and they say' "...spartan, charmless medium sized rooms...it's a bed for the night and nothing more." At least I was safe for the night. Now to get back to the kindness of strangers part. Aldolfo could see my panic rising as the problems mounted with the bus until he said, "dont worry, my friend, i'll make sure you get a room for the night in a safe hotel.". Of course he got a kickback from the hotel and the rate he gave me for the dollars was crap, but without him I seriously do not know what I would have done. Before the kindness of Aldolfo in looking after my safety there was Jose, the Pastor. Without having met him, I would still be on the side of that road, naked, with no money or backpack, tarred and feathered, still trying to get to Honduras to see my friend Sue. And good ol Javier, the surfer who gave me a ride to San Salvador, saved a hour off my trip and set me up with the info I needed to get to my next city. Javier picked me up at the busstop as I was waiting for the next bus. He didn't need to stop and offer me a ride but he did, and we had a great conversation about his budding Journalism career and how he got a scholarship to a small school in Oklahoma a few years back. He told me about the civil war of the 80's and daily life in San Salvador. Jose told me about his church and the outreach programs that he was doing. Adolfo told me how hard it was to speak English and that if I ever get carsick, coke will do the trick (when you can't get your hands on a Coke, any sweets will stem the tide). I'm not sure of the scientific merit of Aldolfos theory, but it was a good conversation regardless. I guess my point to this whole thing is that even on sucky days, simple things like the kindness of strangers can lift you up. It really impressed me that these three different people with totally different lives touched me on my trip in equally impressive ways. It has defintely given me a slightly better view of the human race. I tend to be a bit pessimistic of the masses when it comes to how people treat each other, too many people giving each other the business. Small things like this are the kind of things that give me hope for humanity. Don't worry about me, my deep seeded cynicism will kick in any minute now... aaaaand, there it is!

playa el zonte

Next stop on my trip was Playa El Zonte, on the Pacific coast of El Salvador. This is a very small, very tranquil black sand beach with pretty good surfing. There is a rocky point break that breaks both left and right, depending on the tides, and a sandy beach break on either side of the point.

The sandy break is much more mellow, but longer and much better for learning. So I gave it a shot and let me tell you what, I am not a natural surfer. I took a lesson from the local shop/hotel and a guide took me out. I had a 9 foot board (which felt like a small boat under my arm) and a little instruction to make my way and I failed miserably. First of all let me say that surfing is extremely hard, for those of you that have never tried it. There is a reason that surfers a super cut and in great shape, because it is tough on your body with all that paddling and jumping up on the board. Besides, most rides don't last but 5-10 seconds so there is a lot of work going on for a short ride. Me being a man of leisure, this was not meant to be a natural fit for me, but I felt determined that I could make it on the board and catch a wave by the end of it all. After I broke the second surfboard of the day I was feeling shame and decided to take a break and lay on the sand for the rest of the day. It wasn't that the boards were beyond repair, but I slightly delaminated one on a small rock and the other I pulled the leash straight out of the back of the board somehow. The waves were a little bigger than I should have been trying but I felt I needed to just jump in and sink or swim.

When I brought the first board in for repair, the guys said 'it happens' and gave me another board. When I brought the second board in they asked if I wanted to still go out, or maybe try boogie boarding. The guy in charge quickly added that I was too big for a boogie board and it wouldn't be too much fun for me. I got the hint, besides I was exhausted from the waves beating me up for a few hours. But no worries, I feel confident that, in the near future, I will be able to get up and catch a small wave. I've already scouted out a few beaches in Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama that are good for breaking more surf boards. I better be careful or i'm gonna get banned from all the good surf spots in Central America. I will tell you one thing though, I'm hooked, it is really fun! Other than that and a bit of body surfing this was another town that Lazy Brad enjoyed.

los cobanos

I was getting ready to leave Juayua and asked the fella at the hotel which was his favorite beach destination. He asked what i was looking for and what i wanted to do, nothing was my answer, of course, and he suggested a little place called Los Cobanos. It's a super quiet fishing village that wasn't even on my map, but I thought i'd give it a try. It was only an hour and a half away and I figured if i didnt like it, i'd move on to the next place. I got off the bus on the one road in town and was a bit in disbelief as the bus drove off.

I asked a lady on her porch where this hotel i'd heard of might be and she pointed me in the right direction. I walked along the path on the beach in front of and in between the fishing shacks until I came to the end of the path. I asked a bunch of young El Salvadoreans in a few VW busses that were grilling some fish where the hotel was and they had no idea. I showed them the map on the back of the flier for the hotel and an argument insued. Not with me but amongst themselves as to where the hotel might be. There were 5 couples and all five guys seemed to have passionate opinions as to where it might be. Luckily for me, the prettiest gal of the bunch took a shine to me and asked where I was from and the other usual questions. She said she thought it was cool that I was travelling alone, I said thanks as I blushed and lightly kicked some sand while putting my hands in my pockets. By that time the fellas had come to a conclusion that it was the white fenced house that was 2 houses away. I thanked them for their help and made my way to the gate. It had no sign and seemed to be pretty small for a hotel, more like someones house. The exact moment that I was entering, hoping that it was the right house and if it wasn't that they did not own a gun or a dog, I heard a ferocious bark (really, it scared me so much I thought I soiled myself) and a two month old chocolate lab came bounding up to me with its tongue hanging out, ready to attack. Feeling a bit embarrased at my moment of fear, I asked if I was in the right place and, alas, I was. The dog reminded me of a younger, not nearly as much of a pain in the ass version of my friend Brian's dog named Darlene. Darlene is a hellian of a dog that you cannot hope to control, you can only hope to contain her! This dog's name was Ciatsi, which I came to find out means nothing, it was just a litttle pet name the owner, Carla had come up with. Carla was a very gracious host and let me in on little secrets of the town that only locals knew. Actually there were only 2 tourists there, besides myself, so the secrets were out, it seemed. Secrets like a kilo (2.5 lbs almost) of oranges for a dollar, the next door neighbor cooked and delivered food to the hotel for super cheap (I had fresh lobster in a galic sauce, rice and steamed veggies for $6), and the local fisherman would sell you whole fish from the fishing boats for really cheap too. The two times I went to the boats they only had big fish that would feed a minimum of 6 people and they wouldnt sell filets because then the rest of the fish wouldn't get sold, so I didn't get lucky on that one.

There was a reef that was right off shore from the hotel (did I say it was ocean front) where you could snorkle for free during mid tide. Low tide was too low with exposed coral, and high tide had poor visibility. There was also a turtle sanctuary a few doors down but all the eggs had already hatched and been released. Deserted cove beaches with coral rocky outcropings and a western view for the sunsets made this a very relaxing place for a few nights. This was a good find, for sure. Other than that I just watched the ocean alot, read, played with the puppy and sipped on 50 cent beers in the afternoon. But just so you don't think that everything was wine and roses down here, the lobster was overcooked and super salty. Don't feel sorry for me, i'll make it through.

juyaua

Spent a few days in Juayua, El Salvador. It's a pretty sleepy town during the week, when I was there, but they have a weekend food fair that has all kinds of stuff like bbq lizard which I would have loved to try. Sounded fun but the timing wasn't right. Instead I went on a hike where we went underneath a bunch of waterfalls. Most weren't that big, but a few were decent size. Our guide, Mario, pulled off a cliff diving stunt into a man-made concrete enclosure that was only 8 feet deep. He must have gone up 15-20 feet. I wasn't sure how to say 'show off' in Spanish but he understood me when I gave him some grief. The town didn't have too much going on so I had a bunch of down time and polished off another book. Pretty area but nothing really happened these few days, sorry.

off the map

Sorry folks, I was nowhere near an internet connection for the past 7 days. I have a lot of catching up to do on my posts, so sit tight and i'll try to get a few up in the next day or so. I did a lot of nothing (something), but looking at sunsets like this is the kind of nothing I like to do.

january reading list

Not working has done wonders for my reading. It's amazing that having more free time and not hanging around in bars would have such a dramatic impact on my proverbial bookshelf. Books are not hard to come by down here but really good books are. Each hotel usually has some sort of book exchange and the more touristy towns tend to have an expatriate bookworm who has opened up a used book shop. Luckily for me I have run into some pretty good books so far.

The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera
Great explanation of 'litost', a new favorite word.
Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut
I appreciated his writing style but some of the more interesting characters only played small roles. This one never really got off the ground with me, good, but I kept wanting more.
The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammet
Great line in this crime caper, "it's too early for breakfast, why don't you pour me a drink."
Disgrace by JM Coetzee
Made me not want to be a professor.
The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon
Loved this one, you can see how this one influenced generations of artists and performers, noteably Radiohead (and most of you know how I feel about them)
Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
Made me feel a bit like a kid again.
The Natural by Bernard Malamud
Quite different from the movie, both great in different ways but the glory of the movie edges out the disgrace of the book.
All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy
Really enjoyed this one. Haven't seen the movie but i'm curious how they changed it and how my future ex-wife Penelope looks. Just kidding, I know she looks fabulous.

This was a banner month for me, a bumper crop of reading. Usually i'm only good for one or two a month. Hopefully I can keep finding some good ones here and there, we'll see.

las primicias #2

As promised, the video for one of the previous posts. Finally got the upload done for the festival last Sunday. Even this video doesn't do justice to my suprise when I stumbled upon the festival but it gives a glimpse. The pictures definitely don't do it justice. Sorry for the shaky camera but I was laughing too hard. Hope you enjoy it!

Parque Nacional Imposible

Went on a hike the other day around Parque Nacional El Imposible. It's a pretty easy translation at The Impossible National Park. They call it 'Imposible' because the steep cliffs and long drops into canyons claimed many the life of a coffee farmer and/or his pack mule that was heading to the coast to drop off the beans for export.

There are tons of wild creatures including pumas and havallinas. We only saw lots of birds and pesotes (small possum/racoon looking guys) and heard a wild pig forraging around the bend. He squealed when he caught wind of us and ran off in the other direction. I headed out at 8am with my guide Miguel. Miguel was no slouch with the machette either as you can see here.

I was the only one on this trek which suited me fine, so we decided to do the hike where we went along the ridgeline instead of going down in the canyons. Miguel told me that this trek was longer and more difficult than the canyon trek because we went for an extra 2 hours and the ridges were quite strenuous. I hope he was telling me the truth because I can't imagine a much more difficult hike. The paths were tiny, if there at all and i'm pretty sure Miguel got lost a couple of times even though he didn't let on, cuz I saw no trail at all at times!

Along the way we stopped at different vistas and Miguel told me that off in the distance was Volcanoes Pacaya, Agua, Feugo and other ones where I had started my journey over a month ago. Although the skies were clear with a touch of haze, it seemed crazy that I had gone so far and only ended up less than 40 miles from my starting point. Of course it's a 4 hour ride to get to the starting point due to the mountainous terrain and impassible canyons, but close nonetheless.

Here you can see a few of said volcanoes in the background. We stopped at a wild orange tree and ate fresh oranges, Miguel cut open a small tree and gave me some plantanillos. He said that plantanillos are great with a little salt and lime and a bunch of beers over a football match. I said we called them sunflower seeds back home but the joke missed its mark. The plantanillo was the core of the stalk that was peeled back exposing the center. The only thing I can describe the look would be a very large scallion where only the center was edible. You had to peel back a few layers to get to the good stuff. They had a nice vegetable taste similar to some greens that I can't really pinpoint. I loved 'em. We also found some wild berries that looked like blueberries but were quite tart and had a big seed that was about half of the berry itself.
We took some strange detours that I could only gather were shortcuts, but by Miguels body language

I felt we were dodging the workers on the coffee finca we were cutting through. The finca was part on National Park land. He said 75% of the park was national land and 25% was private land and grandfather claused in where property owners would retain rights and still be able grow their crops, only they could not cut down any more trees. My feeling about the body language came to be true when another guy with a machette yelled at us to stop and I saw Miguel cower just slightly. It turned out that this guy was a park ranger of sorts and he had been behind us on the trail some ways back. When Miguel popped open the plantanillos he left the leaves and remnants on the trail. The ranger only wanted him to throw the remnants off the trail so that others (who didn't know the rules of the national park) wouldn't come along, see some plantanillo scraps on the ground and chop down entire groves of wild plantanillos. Miguel apologized and we were on our way.
Later we saw the Pacific and some mountains of El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras.
I only fell once but it was an epic fall on the saddle of two small peaks where each side dropped over 100 feet with only a small path to walk on. Luckily there were tons of brush and shrubs to keep me from tumbling.

I think I scared poor Miguel half to death as I did my best impression of a turtle on its back not able to get up. He had to put down his machette to help me up. Besides a few scrapes the only thing I hurt was my pride.

las primicias

Sometimes lady luck is on your side! I got into town on Sunday around noon at a place called Tacuba (ta KU ba), El Salvador. It's a tiny town of a few thousand that is near the northern edge of a national park. I put up my stuff in the only hotel in town, where I was the only guest and the patrona (owner) told me that her house was my house, and she really meant it! I walked around town and got some fresh papusas, which are filled with beans and cheese, around which some sort of delicious bread/masa/potato type mixture that is griddled in a skillet til golden brown topped with fresh cabbage slaw (a sort of cabbage salsa of carrots, cilantro, a little spice and fresh lime) and drowned with fresh salsa on top. The locals eat them by ripping off a small piece with your paws and putting a bit of the cabbage mixture on top, and soaking the bread in the salsa but I failed at that so I got a fork.... weak, I know. Fantastic little things though, and it only cost $1.40 for 2 and a coke (in a glass bottle, no less!!). Then I walked around to everyone in towns suprise. They looked at me in amazement, as if they had never seen a gringo before. The looks of shock and wonder quickly changed to smiles as a simple 'buenoss tardes' really does go a long way around here. There was a three day festival going on and the town was really buzzing. There were street vendors selling all kinds of food, games where you try to throw a ring around a coke bottle to win a small prize and tons of families gathered around the town square.

The purpose of the festival has to do with the harvest, which is why all the trucks are decorated with fruit and vegetables. Each truck later got into line and paraded up the lesser drag, then down the main drag to the church. The festival is said to have Catholic origins, but locals told me that it was one of the few times a year that everyone was welcome to come into the church, more correctly that even though it was religious the excitement of the town transcended anyones particular faith. It was really cool to see the genuine excitement!


The festival is called "Las Primicias" and each adorned truck in the procession carried a princess whom the town voted on at the end of the festival on Sunday night. As the trucks rode by, the beds of the trucks were filled with friends and a small band playing folk songs. The princesses would throw candy to the people on the street as they watched the procession. The excitement of the crowd cannot be described in words or pictures. Luckily, I had my smart cap on and started taking video with my camera. Unluckily for you, this town has had a pretty slow internet connection over the last few days (i'm told it's usually a lot faster) so im having trouble posting the video. When I do, please watch at least two minutes worth, when one of the princesses spies me filming and chucks candies at me. You see the camera shake and hear me laugh. I'm not sure who won, but if I coulda voted, she was my girl! Again, sorry to make you wait, as soon as I can i'll get it working on here.

This festival happens only in Tacuba and nowhere else in the world. It is not the kind of thing that people seek out but as a clumsy traveller, I felt like the luckiest gringo in the world to have stumbled into this town on this date. I later found out that the festival was delayed a few weeks due to "problemas" which made me feel even more lucky. The people seemed to welcome me into their festival which made it all the more special. My new friend Manolo, who runs a tour agency down here, was so excited to see the video that he copied it to his computer after we figured out that the connection was not allowing us to upload the video. He said that he was very excited to share this video with 300-400 people whom he wanted to show a little piece of his hometown. Hopefully I can get it on Youtube today, but until then, a few pictures will have to do.

suicide showers

No, this is not a post about further guerilla conflicts, but simply a short post about day to day life down here. Having hot water is a pretty big deal here, those who can afford it have it, those who cant make do with water. Most hostels offer hot water as an immenity but whether they actually have it is another thing altogether. The best part of each day is when I step out from under the wetness, covered in cold or hot water, and find that i'm still alive. For hot water down here does not mean that you have a hot water heater, but that there is an electric device with wires protuding from it directly wired into the shower head. Not only this, but you are lucky if the wires are covered completely with no copper exposed. To make things worse, sometimes the circuit breakerbox is next to the shower, as in this case. This is the reason I usually take cold showers and just leave the electricity to itself. Day to day life that one takes for granted but is hilarious, nonetheless.

the ex FMLN pal o' mine

Got up early in the morning to head to my next city. On the chicken bus a very nice man offered his paper for me to read and smiled. I read for a while, what I could, but then the bus started filling up fast and I couln't stretch out the paper. Soon we hit a small town that was having its' market day and almost everyone unloaded. The nice little man was still on and told me to move back a seat or two because I was tall and was sitting on the wheel well, my legs could stretch out more that way. Then a kid came on the bus selling candies, my little old guy bought a few and gave me two to enjoy. Then he asked where I was from and what I was doing, where I was going, the usual stuff. We got into a nice little conversation and he told me his name was Jorge Luis Matas, he even showed me his identification card, ha! Then we got into his story, which was amazing, and not in a good way at times. He is maybe 50 or a bit younger and had fought in the civil war back in the day. FMLN was the moniker for the left wing rebel group that opposed the ruling party. When in 1981, the US trained elite forces unit called Atlacatl Battalion killed an estimated 757 men, women and children in El Mozote, the FMLN kicked into full action. The exact number isn't known because almost everyone in the village died, even the babies and pregnant women were shot and piled into a mass grave. The war that encompassed all of this included rebels blowing up bridges followed by government backed death squads that decimated entire towns. And so on and so forth and lots of people died. The problem for me with all this was that Jorge was fighting for survival against US backed troops. He lost many friends and family he told me, but he blamed the government at the time, not me. "You are my friend", he said "why would I have problems with you?". He also said that he had no problem with the US government since the war had ended. Now he runs a small shop where he said, 'it's small, but it's mine'. He smiled the entire time we were talking except for the part where he told me he lost friends and family. It was incredibly hard to listen to him (as I asked him to repeat every other sentence) as he described how my country, my government had supported the people who killed his loved ones. And in the same sentence was smiling and calling me his friend. I mean how do you respond to something like that and what do you say to someone who tells of losing friends while calling you one. That was a tough one but i'm pretty sure that he really did think of me as a friend, crazy! We reached his stop, he said goodbye and took off. After he hopped off the bus he waved to me through the window, still smiling ear to ear. I was shocked at how genuinely friendly and excited to meet me he was!

hola el salvador!

Got through the El Salvadorean immigration, hopped on a chicken bus and made my way to the smallish mountain town of Metapan. Only about 10 miles from the border, Metapan (pop 20,000ish) greeted me just as the sun was going down. Even on the bus into town I could immediately see some huge differences between the countries. The people looked at me with much more interest andwere geniunely shocked at a gringo on the bus, especially one that was sweating profusely in the heat, sweat dripping down my overly red sunburned face with the omnipresent deer in the headlight look that has become my "style" down here. The people seemed mostly friendly and very smily. I had heard from many travellers and naysayers alike, that parts of El Salvador are quite dangerous so I wanted to get a room before dark, get a bite and hit the sack after reading a bit. I got a room and decided to take a walk to the town center to nibble on some local fare. I didn't get a half a block when a crazy guy in a tuk-tuk (three wheeled covered motor powered cab that is popular in Central America) hit his brakes skidding to a halt right in front of me and said, "hey man! how you do? all good? you have to write down thompson twins for me. i love this group and no one here can find them for me cuz i don't know how to spell it. here write here. oh man, i need to take advantage of you! i love thompson twins! write down lynyryd skynyrd, i like them to, how you spell? ok, before you go, write down more, who else, oh yeah dire straights and and and bruce springsteen man write him down. oh man, thanks so much man, soon i be rocking up, man thank you so much!" the passenger was shocked and laughing hysterically because he was having a tough time beliving what was happening... but not as tough a time as I was. Then as quick as he came he was gone, but not before I told him about yelling 'Bruuuuuuuuce!'. I was laughing at that as I made my way to the center of town that was only 3 blocks away. I saw a bunch of locals around a food cart and gotthe specialty, which seems to be popular all over here so far, which is fresh cut french fries squirted with a spicy and sweet ketchup type of dressing, mayo and sprinkled with some kind of dry parmesean type chees. deliscious and only a buck. Oh yeah, the currency here is the US Dollar, so no trouble figuring that one out. Then I heard a whistle and ended up right next to a soccer field so I bought a ticket and ended up watching the local team in a professional El Salvadorean League match. Good stuff! It had some soccer hooligans yelling at the sideline judge, locals out on a Saturday night trying to look good and a game tying penalty shot in stoppage time for the local team to tie it up. Fantastic time that I just stumbled into, which are the best.
After the game I walked the streets home with some young fans that tought me one of the Metapan fight songs, to which I have already forgotten all the words. I do remember the 'ole ole ole ole' cheer but already had some practice at that one. About four pick up truck full of fans that passed me yelled, "what up man? how you do?!" and "see you soon friend!". I got to my hotel and was astonished at how nice everyone had been to me. The people here seem super friendly so far! And I missed all the photo ops because I was a little afraid of what i'd heard. One night down in El Sal, and one really good night had!