The Big One

To begin with let me first apologize for the last 11 days without blogging. I've been a bit slack as Internet access has been costly, slowly and generally unavailable. As such I invested the 2 dollars necessary to get a pad of paper and a pen so that at least I could write out what was happening and then post it all in one BIG session once I had access. Today's entry, composed on the 31st of July will attempt to fill in the missing time. It will include, tubing, caving, hiking a hill to put Finlayson to shame in Tevas, cross dressing, hot springs, a very strange religious practice, whitewater rafting, the end of Heather and I travelling together, the death of my iPod and swimsuit in the same day, and a very sobering reminder of the seriousness of travelling particularly solo. In order to break up what I looks like will be a very long blog I am going to divide up by days.

July 20

Arrived in Santa Cruz on the stunning Lago Atilan, its deep turquoise azule waters are the result of it being in the hollowed part of a collapsed volcanic cone and it is ringed on all sides by more volcanoes (2 of which are still active and expected to erupt soonish ((which for us volcanists is within the next 100 years.))) We were staying in a very cool backpacker orientated hostel which served big family style buffet meals. This night was a special party night as a 16 birds on a Contiki tour were coming for dinner and the party. The hostel is also famous for its dress-up parties and had an entire building of fugly women's clothing for people to get there ugly outfit or crossdress on with. Me being me, I joined in the fun donning a rather lovely purple number. Heather's camera holds the evidence right now I trust. The night descended into drunken debauchery as the cheap shots and tasty beer flowed freely.

July 21

The previous night in a wee bit of a drunken stupor I'd signed up for a scavenger hunt, which for 65 Quetzales (there is about 7.29 per Canadian dollar) included transport to the many pueblas on the Lake. Our first stop was to Santiago where our first target was to check out the strangest religious idol I have ever seen. His name is Maxamillion and he is kept in villagers homes, changing monthly. He is about four feet high and of carved dark wood. His preferred offering is of cigarettes and a local harsh whiskey, which more or less makes him the God form of my most recent ex-girlfriend ;-) The room he was kept in was a bizarre spectacle as jade plants and cds hung from the ceiling, all light was either provided by old Christmas lights or candles placed on the floor in 6 groups of 4 double rows. With the walls painted black the room felt tiny. Along one wall in a glass Snowwhite-esque casket was a Jesus...umm I am not sure what word to us here, figurine is too toy-like, mannequin too department store and doll too sacrilegious.. holding a huge bouquet of cheep looking flake flowers. The total effect was exceptionally laughable however, it was very somber as the local shaman was performing a ritual for a mother whose baby was quite sick. The shaman kept taking articles of clothing and waving them in incense and then wrapping the mother in them. The humour was somewhat restored by the articles laid on her which included a funny hat, a dress, a Loveboat type Captain's jacket, and the type of shoes that looked like they would be at home attached to the end of a Village Person.

When we left there we strolled towards the town square where there was a fair being setup. Noticing a group of boys looking longingly at the foozball tables I talked one of my teammates in challenging them to a match on our dime. We were thoroughly destroyed, but must have had about 20 kids gather round to watch the Gringos v. Locals match. A trip highlight and some of my favourite photographs!

After lunch we headed for a dip in the local hotspring where the volcanic vents pressed heat to the surface creating an ideal swim. AS we returned to our hostel and intense tropical rainstorm started to pour down. Our boat began to take on water and our captain was trying to bail water and pilot the boat through big waves. I offered to help but machismo resulted in a pretty certain No. However, he was fighting a losing battle and when I offered again a few moments later he gladly turned the wheel over to me, all on board were relieved when we docked as the bailing had gotten worse and fork lightening and intense thunder had now come out too.

July 22

A full on travel day! 30 minute boat ride, four hours in a shuttle bus, 5 hours on a regular bus and a 30 minute walk to our hostel. All of which only equated to travelling the 250kms (as the crow flies) from Lake Atilan to Coban.

July 23

Up early that morning I realized how much I was missing news when I found myself watching Spanish CNN trying to piece together stories from my limited Spanish and their exceptionally flash logos. We then headed to Lanquin and the super chill El Retiro Hostel. That night at the bar Heather and I decided that it was time to head our separate ways at next stop as we were having some personality clashes that weren't worth risking a valued friendship over.

July 24

That day we were booked into the full tour of Semuc Champey. We started first with a guided tour of one of the cave systems, nothing like one you may have experienced in Canada, instead we were swimming most of it in bathing suits and Tevas. And to truly ratchet up the excitement instead of a flashlight or helmet with headlamps we were given run of the mill candles! One particular 200 meter swim was done with one hand very carefully held aloft.

Afterwards we boarded some tubes for a quick float down the river. Then it was off for an intense hike hike to a lookout on the swimming holes formed in the limestone canyon that makes Semuc Champey a must see for all travellers in the region. The hike up was full on! It was like a steeper, wetter, poorly marked version of Mount Finlayson. Oh yeah, and done in humid 30C+ weather with sandals. The descent was rugged but the view and the swimming the pools was totally worth it.

July 25

A day of clear skies after the most intense rainstorm I had ever witnessed. It had turned roads into rivers and had greatly swollen the river at the foot of our hotel. In other words, perfect conditions for tubing! A Dutch friend name Pieter (who had been travelling with Heather and I since Santa Cruz) spent about 60 Quetzales to get 4 rides to the top of the river so that we could float back down. It was the definition of chilled out!

July 26

This day was all about the Whitewater rafting for Pieter and I. We started off easily with our guide practicing commands, a flip recovery and everyone getting acquainted with paddling in time. The first rapids we hit were called rock and roll and were rated a 4+. Although we avoided flipping for the for the day we had a number of swimmers (those who fall out) including yours truly who had to swim a rather intense 3+, thankful for my helmet and lifejacket. However, at lunch the Billabong shorts I've had since I left Australia were irreparably, and embarrassingly ripped, fortunately I had a backup pair. Then getting home to the hostel I discovered that my iPod had fully given up the ghost. In order to avoid any other harm to others I spent the rest of the night chilling in my dorm room.

July 27

This was the morning Heather and I were both up early to hug goodbye as she was headed North to Flores and Tikal and I chose to get my Caribbean on by heading East to Livingstone (It is the time part of Guatemala on the Caribbean Coast) My journey began with a five hour ride in a shuttle van along bumpy old roads (think logging roads for 5 hours without 4wheel drive or even very decent suspension). Our van was pulled over at one point and an officer approached us to to ask if any us were missing a friend. A rather odd question to a full van I thought. Someone with better Spanish then me took over and it turned out that the body of a drowned backpacker with no ID had been recovered that morning and they had no idea of how to contact his family. It was a very somber moment as the realization that because I was travelling solo it would be awhile before anyone noticed I was missing (apologies to any Moms reading, but I did promise some sober reflection on this blog)

Continuing my journey I hooked up with some travellers from a hodgepodge of Nations enroute. 2 Israelis, 2 Ozzies and 1 Yank. The next ride was a 2 hour bus journey in a chicken bus complete with real chickens. (For those out of the know, a chicken bus is an old school bus that is repainted, often has tinted windows with a crazy sound system and locals and backpackers are often crammed 3 or 4 to a 2 person bench seat, a mandatory Central America experience). Finally we boarded a boat for the two hour scenic river ride down the Rio Dulce. The journey was amazing, seeing a 100 year old fortress, Pelicans, sheer limestone cliffs rising out of a lush tropical jungle and a stop in a splendid natural hotspring.

Alright, enough blogging. That is more or less the exciting parts! Now I am living the chilled out backpacker life on a tiny little island in Belize.
I've uploaded some photos to facebooks, but those of you without an account can access the photos here.

So a guy goes up a volcano...

After signing off from the blog yesterday I headed back to the hostel to prepare to summit Volcano Pacayo. The question one is faced in climbing such a thing is, what the hell do I pack? I decided lots of water was in order.

Just before our ride arrived it started to rain, and rain, and rain. It did not stop until we got home. Not any Victoria drizzle either. This is the type of rain that drives into you, and soaks you through. At first I was okay with it, thinking that the group was hiking the equivalent of Mount Finlayson, and we are in the tropics so the cold will be overwhelmed by the heat and the climb. Getting into the shuttle bus I was nervous, there was a number of people that looked as though walk was a 4 letter word they tried to avoid. My fears were soon realized as we began our ascent. The rain continued and we took frequent breaks to allow (as I dubbed them) weezy, shakey and porkchop to catch up with the rest of the group which was chomping at the bit to keep moving (if only to stay warm)

For the entire climb the top (or cone as we volcano veterans call them) was shrouded in the clouds and hard to estimate the distance remaining because of this. As we got beyond the tree level the landscape became other worldly, suddenly there was a giant flow of cooled lava with and the grass and mud that had been underfoot was replaced with volcanic rock, and ash. Material that had come from 10kms under the surface in the preceding days and weeks. The climb got far more intense and complicated at this part (and weezy, shakey and porkchop brought the group to a near crawl as we all had to stay close together.) We stepped over vents where steam and sulphured warmed us in our places and as we climbed higher a meter under the dried lava we were standing on I could see and hear the magma flowing by underneath. The final 100 metres of the climb brought us to within 50 meters of where there was fresh magma erupting from the volcano. I know I promised photos, but the rain mixed with the heat of the magma mixed to create a fog that ruined any of the photos I took, for this I apologize.

We turned to begin our descent down. The return put the difference between Guatemala and Canada in sharp contrast for me. The sun had set while we were watching the eruptions, the guide led the group off and would occasionally blow a whistle to indicate which way he wanted us to follow and we had been recommended to bring torches. However, we were more or less on our own to pick our way through the dried flow which was prodigiously dangerous as it dries with very sharp edges and rocks that can easily break and give way underfoot... Ohh yeah, and there were pits of magma that if one fell on... well lets just say it would not be pretty. And finally our guide did not even carry a bag, meaning no first aid kit.

Heather was soaked through and having a rough go of the descent, so we held back a little and tried to get her warmed up with some dry things. I also wanted to be on the tail because I did not remember our guide ever doing a head count and I was a little worried that weezy could be lost.

Eventually we all found our way to the van waiting at the bottom of the hill and everyone was in the van... Weezy, Porkchop and Shakey fell asleep before we even made it back to Antigua.

Antigua, Guatemala

Alright, I apologize that I left the last blog half way finished. I didn´t realize quite how many people are reading this thing. I vow to keep it up if I have the audience, maybe if I get a big enough readership I can finance my trip through google ads ;)

To set the scene: Heather and I are in one of Mexico City´s bus terminals, having just waved goodbye to Lee.

We strolled over to the nearby ticket counter asking how to get to somewhere in the far South of the country, a tiny little place called Talisman, where one of the 3 border crossings are into Guatemala. Heather had researched all of them and this one was by far the coolest, as you the border occurred in the middle of the river.

We were told that no bus left the terminal we were at for the where we wanted to go, but one indeed did leave from another terminal from the main terminal in town. The metro system in the city is incredible so we go and hop onto a train which takes us most of the way to the other terminal. When we go to transfer the platform we were on was so crowded that it was 5 deep from the trains as they arrived. And when they did arrive they were already insanely packed out, we let a few go by and I noticed that there was about 3 or 4 dodgy looking blokes doing the same and eyeing Heather and I. She suggested we ditch the terminal and catch a cab the rest of the way. My backpacker´s intuition told me she was correct and so we left the station.

Coming out of the station we were in the middle of some sort of l0cal market selling everything from knockoff superman dolls (you can tell they were fake as the S was facing the wrong way) to batteries, to Croc shoes, to toilet paper. We flagged down a passing cab who stopped in the middle of traffic and we had to race to jump into his cab. It was very amazing race, made all the more so because I kept glancing at my watch thinking we had only 30 minutes to get to our bus. So when he let us out at our terminal after heroic driving forcing his way through traffic, cutting people off, driving in lanes that were little more then pockets in traffic. We ran to the ticket counter with what I thought to be only 8 minutes before the bus left.... Buying our tickets I realized we had two hours more to go and I had done my conversion from 24 hour time incorrectly.... So we spent 2 hours sitting in the terminal preparing for what the ticket seller had told me would be a 12-13 hour ride (confirming the lonely planet´s version of the time required.)

For those not keeping score at home, we had already spent 7 hours travelling that day and then had to wait 2 hours for the bus.

When we finally got on board and settled in the driver (doing his best airline pilot´s impression, full on with the pauses and the "uhhs" informed us that it was going to be a 16-18 hour journey.... Damn it! So we settled in Heather watching some terrible movies in Spanish and me reading Romeo Dallaire´s Shake Hands With The Devil. Granted my experience is only anecdotal, however, maybe there has been some research on the subject. What the hell is up with Mexicans and bad movies? So far on this trip I´ve seen: The Jaguar (crap), Spiderman 3(Western Blockbuster Crap), Centennial Man (Robin Williams Crap) and Wayans movie with a jewel thief who pretends to be a baby (do I even need to say how bad that is?)

When the interminable terrible movies were over and the bus went more or less dark, I tucked away my book content to watch the country side roll past and ponder. As tends to happen in the wee small hours of the night i had a lot of things going through my mind. I was missing my friends back home (odds are if you read this blog I spent a little time considering our friendship that night), I was also struck with an overwhelming desire to really get my head around the language here and wanting to be able to read a Spanish newspaper and understand it before I head home.

Finally the next day at about 2 in the afternoon after travelling for almost 30 hours we got into our tiny hamlet of choice. I was ready to find any hotel, shower and sleep as I don´t do well on buses. Heather, who does much better at sleeping in those seats, had a bit more energy and urged me on to the border. She was right and we jumped in a cab for the 30 minute drive.

The border was not anything like we are used to when crossing into Canada. I had to ask around to find where we emigrated from Mexico! Finally having our passports stamped we started walking across the bridge that divides the two countries and had dozens of people sauntering around offering to change money and just hanging out. When we crossed over to the Guatemalan side it was even harder to find where we had our passports stamped for entry! It was in a small little shop off the main street, it would have been incredibly easy to simply walk right past it. Finally ¨processed¨we found a cab and took it to the nearest place listed in my Let´s Go travel guide that had a bed. By the time we arrived it had been 35 hours of travel and we went lavish with a glorious room with a hot shower, HBO and air conditioning. Which we promptly cranked to make the room 17 Celsius. Man oh man was it nice to need a blanket.

The next morning it was back onto another bus. (SOB) This time 6 hours to Guatemala City. The journey which is less then 200kms ended up taking 7+ hours as we got stuck in some crazy traffic jam on a tiny back country road. At one point some locals hopped on the bus and started selling ¨Tortas con Carne,¨which literally means tortillas with MEAT. (not beef, not chicken, not pork, MEAT.) Impressed by the hustle of flagging down a bus to sell your food and then getting off at some distance later I bought some. It wasn´t great cuisine, but it hit the spot and on the plus side it didn´t kill me. Although I didn´t eat the weird white pasty stuff that came with it and that I´d never seen on another plate before or since.

Finally arrived in Guate (that´s what the locals call the capital city and I want to blend in as much as a 220lb 5´6 white dude can) and it was cold, ugly and from all accounts dangerous as all hell. So we got one of the employees of the bus terminal to tell us how to get to tiny little Antigua about 45kms away. He offered to take us in his cab for about 15$. Exhausted with buses the only concern was how soon we could be on our way.

We should have shopped around more. His cab redefined shunky! The headlights were dull and near useless in the driving rain, as goes for windshield wipers. And then there was the defrost to try to take the humidity off the windows, it was completely useless and our driver had to frequently use a rag or newspapers to wipe them so that he could see the road. On top of all this I am pretty sure it was his first week as he had to read street signs to find the town! It was rather terrifying, particularly when he would take take phone calls and try to wipe the windows at the same time drifting from lane to lane. The terror turned into hilarity when we arrived in Antigua as we spent about 20 minutes of driving around the old cobblestone streets trying to find our hostel (he must have asked about 10 different people for directions) before the eagle eyed Heather spotted it driving down one of the streets.

We have been in town for the last 3 nights, and it has been lovely and warm with many beautiful vistas as we are surrounded on all sides by volcanoes.

And that dear reader brings you up to date and this entry to a close as I must go get prepared to hike one of the active volcanoes this evening. Photos of magma to be posted soon.

In Antigua, Guatamela (and the last few days)

Alright truth be told: for this whole trip I intend to keep a proper travel journal too, which I´ve been pretty good about and from time to time I think I might merely blog my journal word for word (with some editing to either PG it or to protect the names of the innocent)

July 14, 2007

"A little slack on the journal writing- here is my attempt to catch up¨. The 11th Lee, Heather and I headed off for a cable car ride over Taxco, it was rather quiet but the views more then made up for the lack of thrills. The classic colonial town stretch from high up in the mountain it is on down it´s sheer slop to the valley below. When we returned to the town we all split ways to go shopping, lee and I launched into a 3 hour st. Christopher hunt for a dear friend. Apparently he is not very popular in Mexico as every shop I went into I was greeted with blank stares, so I went from asking if they had any pendants with him to: Do you have the Saint walking in water with the child on his shoulder, the answer was repeatedly no, or when it was a yes the silver on offer simply was not up to the standard I was looking for.

That night we hit up a pretty quiet funky little bar and while Lee and Heather worked on Mojitos I was drinking trips on Mezcal on ice. Apparently me and that stuff are good friends, way tastier then Tequila.

...(dull part here edited for my poor reader´s sake)

The next night we found ourselves back in the same bar. I knocked back a couple of more triples and by the time I´d done that they had gotten more Mint so that we could all enjoy some Mojitos.... We were chatting with some locals, and some of the ex-pats and when we went to leave the owner of the bar came over and mentioned that after we´d consumed 17 Mojitos we were the new all time record holders (in fact to keep our drinking going they had to twice send one of the waitresses to run and get more mint.) There were good intentions to keep the party going but as it was only 930 we needed to cool our heals for awhile. Lee started to fade as he was fighting a cold, and pretty soon the 4 hours of drinking we´d already put in had us stumbling our way back to our hostel. (BTW: Cobblestones, steep hills and a solid pissup is a rough walking recipe)

The morning of the 13th was Lee´s last full day in country, so it was time to get ourselves back to Mexico City for his flight. Fortunately Lee is a wonderful pal and he agreed to take my sleeping bag and some other odds and ends that I´d over packed home for me. The three of us parted way in Mexico City´s bus station. It wasn´t teary, but it was emotional. I´ll definitely miss having Lee along for this trip, for his ready smile, sense of humour, third set of eyes to keep a look out, and well because girls dig him and I was enjoying chatting up their friends. (Yeah I was "Turteling his Vince") Also it was more obvious that Heather and I weren´t an item by having another buddy.

All that and I know he heads back to Afghanistan in February and I won´t see him before then... and then I´ll just worry about his safety for the 6 months he´s over there.

I shall continue this story later and fill you in on the 30 hours of busses in two days that got me to Antigua Guatemala.

Those who have Facebook I´ve uploaded a few trip photos.

Leaving Taxco

I am in an internet cafe in what I regard to be the most beautiful Mexican city I have ever seen. Although, I think I´ve dream of a similar place many times, it was always a composite of past travel experiences, fantastic pictures and a healthy dose of imagination. But for the last 3 days I´ve been living that vision.

We arrived 3 nights ago after a long bus ride from Acapulco, winding through intense switch backs and overlooking cliffs that dropped hundreds of feet to valleys bellow. The intensity of that was made all the greater by the fact that we are in Mexico, so people are swerving to pass while honking and considering the double yellow line little more then a warning. Compounding all of this was the fact that there was large cows grazing randomly on the very edge of the road (sometimes while standing on the road too.) Arriving in town it was nice and cool, like a warm Summer´s Victoria night, which let me tell you, after 6 days in the humidity of Acapulco is nice!

We unloaded from our bus and looked upon the colonial town that was built into the side of a mountain. Built in this location because of rich silver deposits the whole town is steep and narrow cobblestone streets built around a massive and gorgeous Cathedral. The people are exceptionally friendly, standing lost in the Zocalo (plaza at the center of almost all Spanish towns) and staring at our Lonely Planet map a number of people approached us to offer directions. With such help we soon found our hostel tucked quietly away in one of the corners of the market.

It was a sprawling 3 terraced level 15 room beauty for a rather fair price that looked out over many of the roofs of the city. But none of us were in the mood for views, it was food and drink that we all wanted after 6 hours pent up in a bus.

Wondering lost through the city we paused obviously lost at another zocalo and two pretty american birds came over to offer aid. They pointed out some places on the map, I played dumb and talked them into a guided tour in exchange for some beers. We hit a local hot spot and much food and drink is imbibed while we get the basic background of the town. Apparently it is a big hotspot for Americans to come to study Spanish (that does hurt the charm a litle.)

The charm of the city persisted as I strolled through many markets, and countless silver stores with beautiful hand crafted works.

Unfortunately today is the last day with my good friend Lee on the trip as he heads back to Victoria early tomorrow morning. I am going to miss having him as a travel companion, we made each other laugh throughout the last 10 days, whether playing frisbee in a 12 meter pool, gawking at gorgeous girls, or playing which of these two hot starlets would you rather. The party has now dwindled to two and Heather and I are continuing south this afternoon to either Oaxaca or right to Guatemalan border.

Wow the fun of developing world computers, I get weird accents on my words, lose y good and necessary friend spell check and idiosyncratic touches like this machine won´t let me have a title. So picture it to be Disco Beach Redux

The night of my last blog we had an intense thunder and windstorm that lit the entire sky, rocked my hammock, scared Heather so much that she slept with a pillow over her head and brought a wonderful breath of cool air.

To return to an earlier theme one of the question I got asked a lot was what will you do all day? Yesterday was one of those brilliant examples of how strange a day while travelling can be. We spent the first 4 hours of the day (which I admit didn´t start until 10ish) searching for a Frisbee to play with on the beach, the first one we found was much much to expensive at 4$ so we kept searching, eventually finding one at 2$ at a Bodega Giganete. Another couple of hours was spent find, haggling, buying and returning from getting Sarongs for Lee and Heather.

Being Saturday night we decided it was time to go out in a big way, which in Acapulco means the Legendary Disco Beach. Shocked to be back in Acapulco was one thing, I thought it was crazy to go back to the site of Colin and I´s 19 year old adventures. But I was sure I´d be robbing mi amigos if we didn´t so I strapped on my dancing sandals and off we went.

I apologize that I don´t have photos to share from the night to do the club justice so kind reader you will have to indulge me a moment while I describe the place for you.

Located in the heart of the tourist district it is a 2 floor club with 4 different bars inside, a large dance floor with multiple platforms, walls covered in a stucco finish that is meant to resemble snow and it spills out on to the beach as it is completely open on the waterfront side. Add to this many people getting their drink on, crazy hot Mexican nights and a variety records spun and you begin to get the feel for what the club is.

We talk our cover charge down from 30$ to 25$ with all of us vowing to get our money´s worth and in Mexican Prices that means we needed to knock back about 10-15 drinks each. Starting at 10 we had exceeded that goal by 1am and are starting to debate heading back to the hotel to call it a night. However, this was not what the night had in store for us as the table next to us full of beautiful Mexicanos sends over an envoy of two to say that one of her cousins wanted to meet Lee (Apparently he´s dreamy.) Soon the tables are combined and we are partying until 5am. Lee and I getting Latin dance lessons (yes I lack rhythm even here) and Heather having a rather handsome dance partner for the evening. There was an awkward moment when the girl that Lee and I were both sure was hotter the habanero confessed that she was only 15 (Photos to come guys calm down). The night drew to a close as the sun began to make its intentions to ruin the night known. In the hasty goodbyes that followed we failed to get email addresses for any of their party but did extract a promise to meet in front of the club at 10am.

Lee woke me up this morning for that meeting with a slap to the leg, quickly springing into action I raced to get ready to meet the birds. However, the whole time I had a vague sense that it wasn´t the best idea. Arriving at the agreed location at 1015 (Yeah we are on Mexican time here) the girls were nowhere to be found. Foiled, but it did reinforce the old rule that sometimes it is best to let a night stand as it is, and to not try to chase yesterday´s fun.

Hope you are all well. Let me know what you want to hear more about in the comments.
-FiveSix

In Acapulco again

So since my last entry things have really Mexico-ed it up. We left Mexico City yesterday in the early afternoon. But before departing we had our first street meat... Yes thats right, I´ve lured my innocent travel companions into eating from Vendors whose idea of foodsafe means washing the disposable cutlery under cold water before re-using it.

Going through the mountains to Acapulco was worrying because we seemed to be driving straight to the rain clouds, and rewarding as Mexico City really has to be seen from the surrouding mountains to appreciate its granduer and elevations (2500 meteres over sealevel.)

I couldn´t believe I had aquised and come back to Acapulco. Colin and I had been here when were 19 and I was so over it. Damn you Disco Beach! Sure enough though we were strolling through the main strip last night and they were offering 20$ (Canadian) cover and an open bar. We ended up rocking into a live music venue ordering buckets of 5 beers for 12 each! A good pissup ensued and it was 330 by the time we were back at our hotel.

The hotel and area we are staying in is gorgeous. For 5$ each a night we have a great room with balcony, hammock, and access to a pool. Topping that off we are 100 meters from some of the nicest beach I´ve seen. Last night sitting in the pool at 330 in the morning I couldn´t help but appreciate how truly wonderful life is.

Today we were up pretty early as it 35+ C and humid as all get out. Straight to the beach we body surfed some massive waves. Getting fully and completly ragdolled. Swimming is best done when there is at least some risk for drowning anyways.

Will post more soon, and upload some pictures once I get a decent internet connection as this appears to be an exagerated dial up and the machine... yeah not so quick

Mexico City

I have safely arrived. Unfortunately the same can not be said of my backpack which is somewhere between Seattle and Mexico City... Yeah wearing the same clothes for 3 days is great, especially when travelling.

Heather, Lee and I enjoyed a lovely italiam meal this evening as we couldn´t find much in the Old Town part of Mexico City to eat after 8 and just kind of wandered into a place that had meals in the 20 or more range.

Lee and I headed out for a walk tonight in the light rain and saw some amazing architecture, photos to follow soon.

Will blog more soon.

-Five-Six

Final Day in Victoria

Warning: This first blog post is more about thoughts and feelings in the final moments before I take off, and therefore lacks the wild stories and cool pictures that I promise future entries will have.

The to-do lists are as done as they are going to be, I've packed everything I think I need (and probably more), the money belt is loaded with ID and I am wearing my travel outfit. On top of all this I have a general sense of ... well I guess that is what this first blog post is about.

Everyone I know talks about how excited I must be to be going on this trip. And I am, I absolutely am, but it is about more then a vacation, chugging beers, or chasing international skirts.(Fear not lads, there will be plenty of those stories to go with the deeper thinking on this blog.)

The idea really stems from a rather rough month of March. I was overwhelmed with school, and then my girlfriend Elise (of several years) and I split up, I had my 26th birthday and then to top it all off I didn't get the job I had long pictured myself getting at CSIS (Canadian Security Intelligence Service, basically our CIA.) I really felt lost and like running away from it all to re-evaluate things. But I had to finish off the classes I was enrolled in at the time as the drop date had passed. When that semester was done I was able to finish my degree with just 2 summer classes so I felt compelled to get those done. Two days ago I finished that second class and I have now completed all my degree requirements. But have not regained the sense I had of a very clear and obvious progression.

To a large part I have to give credit to my travel partner Heather Fitton for this trip actually getting off the ground. The idea, hatched over a late night's drinking, turned into much more with Heather's encouragement and my following of an old drinking aphorism: "Always do sober what you said you would do drunk." In late April we began to seriously look at this trip and by May we had booked one way tickets to Mexico City from Seattle for 200$ (Cheap if anyone else wants to come down).

I appologize but this has to be cut short and published late as Heather showed up and we had to mozzie to theclipper.