Oh My! Ometepe!

Hola - Smitty here :)

Leaving the Tree house was easy enough to do, for me anyway. It was a beautiful place and the idea behind it was equally so but at that moment it just wasn’t satisfying my travel taste-buds. We walked out of the forest and across the yellowing pasture of the farm below until we arrived at the main road.  We were a pack of typical gringo backpackers waiting to hitch a ride or jump onto the next passing chicken bus, and the latter was what we ended up doing.  Rounded up like a bunch of stray cattle, we shuffled into the back of the chicken bus and swayed back and forth as the bus bumped along in the heat of the day.  It took us as far as Rivas before we needed to take a taxi to the docks on our way to the island of Ometepe.

The ferry ride was an hour or so and as scenic as ever, but the children on board that didn’t enjoy the swell on the massive lake were reason enough for me to put my headphones on and fade away for a bit.

We learned right off that the taxis on Ometepe are expensive, but on this occasion a necessary evil.  We were happy to get away from the pack after we picked a place that wasn’t in everyone’s budget (the decision making process of the pack was falling apart.)  Just as we were checking in we saw some Swedes we knew from El Tunco and word on the street was that there was a good party “just down the road” that night so, that was the plan.  “Just down the road” was “just a little bit of an understatement” as we walked for nearly an hour and without my headlamp the darkness would have swallowed us up. We drank shots of moonshine (yes moonshine in Nicaragua) and caught up with our Swedish friends.

We had a few rainy days on the island where we caught up on life and relaxed under the thatched roof of the open air restaurant of our Hotel, Santa Cruz which was lazy but much appreciated.  Renting bikes was a must, and made me feel like a kid again as we cruised along the winding roads with volcanos on the horizons in either direction.  “Picinas de las Ojas” was a half hour bike ride that brought us to a luxurious spot in nature where refreshing pools and fresh coconuts made our afternoon completely enjoyable. Our last night was cloudy but we were offered an unbeatable view of one of the two monstrous volcanoes on the island. 

I wish I could say that we did a lot more in the way of activities while there but truth be told we were as lazy as a pair of sloths on a Sunday afternoon, and we had a few Sunday afternoons on that island.

Granada: A Hit and Run

I wish I had seen and done more in Grenada then ended up happening.  Granada is quite a beautiful and quaint colonial city that I found to be more aesthetically pleasing than that of Leon or Antigua (ha you all know how I feel about Antigua). Granada has a busy central park area that I was quite drawn to on our first afternoon in the city. Regan was catching up on much needed hours of sleep and I was itching to move around after the bus ride so I sauntered into town when Regan’s siesta began.  There are some local artisan markets located on the edges of the park and all around it, food and drink stands occupy the outline of the park, making it the afternoon local social mecca of Granada. I bought myself an old school glass bottle of orange Fanta and found myself a park bench from which to people watch and catch up on my journal. 

I didn’t have my journal open more than a minute before I noticed an old man on my right walking his bike right past my bench.  He smiled kindly and said ‘hola’ and I returned the gesture with the same kind of smile.  Before I knew it, we were in the midst of a long conversation, one I didn’t expect to end anytime soon but that was okay. In fact it was great and refreshing to finally just meet someone and have the type of Spanish conversation I had been dying to have for a long time.  His name was Guillermo and he was a genuine, kind old Nica man that sat down on my bench and brightened my whole afternoon with simple conversation and laughter that could be considered contagious. We talked and talked, and in moments sometimes we just people watched and observed out loud our thoughts, he was comical and I valued the slight differences in his understanding of life.  Some people will come in and out of your life on the most unexpected days and make a lasting impression on you that you could never forget. This was the old man Guillermo to me on that lazy Saturday afternoon.

On the day that Regan made her journey to the Tree House Hostel, I stayed at the Bearded Monkey and had a business day.  I washed my clothes, did a little food shopping, made some calls to corporate enterprises in the states via Nicaraguan Skype (terrible experience) and received a whole bunch of new movies from my friends in the hostel doing exactly the same things.  I caught up with her there the next day, but its always nice to reset yourself for a day while on the open road.

Narrator switch- it's Regan now. While Katie had her business day in Granada (a city I found quite charming but overall a bit tourist-meets-university style) I headed off for the Treehouse Hostel, just outside the city. True to its word, the main building is indeed a treehouse, complete with rope bridges and connecting platforms. It was a pretty laid back place, with most of us choosing to read or chat during the day. Night time was a pretty different story, however. We gathered for an incredible sunset, and then the fun began! 

After a family dinner with some of the best homemade bread I've ever tasted, the drinking began with a medley of games, including a race to see who had the fastest time through the obstacle course. You start by taking a shot, chugging a beer, running up the stairs to the upper floor- dodging chairs, a table, and cats- and then sliding down a fire pole and darting to tag the bar again. Given my history of being utterly and completely accident prone, I sat that one out. 

Next came the cicadas. This place is literally abuzz with these flying monstrosities. During the day the level is at a dull roar, but at night the sound is deafening, and their attraction to the lights is absolutely moronic. Being the size of cockroaches, these things are more like kamikazes than bugs as they dive bomb around the open-air hostel. One of the cats, aptly named Lunchbox, catches and eats these things at an appalling pace; I'd say it averages 2 cicadas per minute. We chose to follow suit, except we de-winged (not a word? It is now) ours and fried them in garlic butter. Garlic, as we all know, makes everything delicious. Cicadas are no exception. 

The night ended with ceiling footprints. Yes, ceiling footprints. The ceiling over the bar is covered with footprints and signed names, usually accompanied by a year and/or country. Getting up there is your own challenge. I opted for the easy way out and had two guys lift me while a third person used my painted foot as a stamp and guided me to an open spot. A few of my fellow hostel-goers were more creative, doing handstands or wild swings from the fire pole. Some of these feats ended well. Others... well, at least they were most likely beyond pain at that point. 

Katie joined the next day, and was greeted by a far more subdued hostel than I had walked into. A chill day in the woods, with a short trip to the beach, was followed by an equally low-key movie night. While we enjoyed the relaxation and isolation of the Treehouse, we made moves to head out the following day. 

Life in Leon Part II aka The Epitome of Chill

Hey mates, Regan here! As we've been running a bit behind, let me give you a sense of the time period we're writing about (yeah, yeah we know, shame on us for being terrible blog-keepers. We're trying!) My part of the story starts on January 1st in Leon and ends with our departure to Granada on February 6th.   

So we had an epic time in the city of Leon, but felt we needed a bit of beach and chill time. Enter the Surfing Turtle Lodge, an eco-friendly hostel outside of Leon that also serves as a turtle hatchery and rescue center. Along with our little brother Ieuan, as well as a friend we made who works at Bigfoot Hostel named Tim, and a new Aussie friend named Amer, we headed out for a night at the beach. After a seriously cramped cab ride to Poneloya, we crossed low-tide to the island (shuffling our feet to deter sting rays... they like to hang out at the bottom and do NOT appreciate being trodden on) and then hiked the 20 minutes to the beautifully secluded lodge. We spent a day just reading at the beach and making friends with the girls who worked there. As the only current guests, we had the place to ourselves! The beach was empty, and we spent the day drinking cocktails, swimming, and watching the boys go for a sunset surf. The night was filled with dancing and an awesome poi fire show by Tim. 

For those of you unfamiliar with poi, check out some YouTube clips- serious talent involved in this. We first saw it in Thailand, and have seen a few people with amazing skills along this trip. Tim started with fire poi with a set borrowed from the locals, and then switched to a colorful electric set he had brought, which allowed us the chance to try it safely (although I still managed to bruise my shin pretty well. No one was surprised). It allowed us to gain some serious appreciation as to how these people avoid lighting their own hair on fire. 

We returned to Leon on Friday and were treated to a night out by Breno, a Brazilian working at Bigfoot. He loaded the hostel truck up with a bunch of us and took us to a great bar/restaurant, whose name I can't remember for the life of me. They were having an open mic night, and we heard some serious talent, including the owner of the restaurant, who treated us to a few songs in a truly beautiful singing voice. I learned to salsa a bit (read: followed Breno's lead and tried not to step on his feet) and Katie and I both had an awesome time. We loaded up the crew again and made for Camaleon, a cheekily named nightclub (check the translation, note the double meaning, and have a little chuckle) that ends up being the favorite late-night party spot. Dancing, tequila shots, repeat. 

The following day, hurting a little bit, Katie and I dragged ourselves out of bed (bit of a struggle... we ain't as young as we used to be!) and made moves to go to Rancho Tranquilo, run by Tina the Gringo, who hails from the US of A and has relocated in Nicaragua to run a pretty chill hostel near the beaches of Jiquilillo. Getting there was quite an adventure, involving a serious trip on the aforementioned Chicken Buses. We hopped a taxi to Chinandega and snagged a bus just as it was leaving. Another way to word this is- we were smushed into a bus that was at least 20 people over capacity and had all its fire exits welded shut.

 Nearly 4 hours later, we had finally made it to what was by far the most off-the-grid and secluded hostel we'd been to so far. No Internet, no TV, no local bars, just us and Crazy Tina for company. We didn't even know who'd won the Superbowl until two days later when we returned to Leon! Most of our days there were started with morning runs in the surf line and then spent reading on the beach, soaking up the sun and utterly oblivous to time and the real world. I cruised through five books in a few days, leading one of the hostel's housekeepers to declare "I'm very surprised that you don't have a bigger head, because you must have a big brain".  Not sure if offended...? 

We stayed in blissful isolation until Tuesday morning, when we headed back to Leon, choosing an alternate route that did not involve aggressive jostling for standing room on an overcrowded bus. After a memorable last night in Leon, we hit the road again, bound for Granada. 

Life in Leon Part 1

Regan and I left El Tunco early in the A.M. and still under the influence. I revived myself with a much needed detox smoothie and fortunately my travel buds allowed me to take shot-gun in our mini-van for the 10 hour ride.  At this point in time, Regan and I were on the road with our friend Ieuan (pronounced Yayan) from Whales and he soon gained the nickname of "little brother" for all his "brother-like" tendencies, both good and...yeah.

It was easy enough to get out of El Salvador; paved windy roads brought us along the coast and eventually navigated inward towards the boarder of Honduras.  The beneficial thing about this particular bus was that 1) it had Wifi so it was a good time for business if you had a laptop or iphone 2) AC = AWESOME and 3) the driver of the van took care of everyone's boarder crossings meaning, we just handed him our passports and boarder fees and chilled in the van while he sorted everything out.  The bus fare for this trip is slightly more expensive for this reason, but it is easier for him and easier for us as boarder crossings can be spread out and confusing for non-native Spanish speakers now and again.

10 hours later, we were parked outside Bigfoot Hostel in Leon, and man were we stoked to check in and get a drink at the hostel bar!  After a late order for pizza and a few brews, the day of traveling, and a hangover that sent me back to my college days, it was official that the day had kicked our ass and so we hit the hay and slept like babies. 

The next week was culture and Mayhem, all rolled up into this detailed summary of events:

Sunday- Cock Fights: For $12USD, you get round trip transport, open-bar and a tutorial from the guide on Nicaraguan cock fighting.  Now, I know some of you readers are not in support of seeing this, totally cool.  I went back and forth morally about this and I still do, however for me it was a different way to see a part of Nica culture and gave me a more well-rounded view of local life down here.  I also believed that judging this without having a better understanding of it would not be cool for me personally so I made moves to educate myself. Overall, I'm glad I learned about it, there's a lot more behind this than people know.

Monday- Kind of a chill day in Leon for us.  Our buddy Ieuan took us around Leon, giving us the tourist tour of the city ("this bar is good" or "best street food is right here" etc.).  We did some errands and shopped, and after building up a sweat - this city gets HOTT - went for an ice cream and played a little air-hockey where I proceeded to kick everyones ass. Thanks dad- for making me such a good air-hockey player.

Tuesday- Volcano Boarding.  I'm Sorry, I meant VOLCANO BOARDING!! What an epic day! While all you kids where chillin' out in the snow (no pun intended) we were getting our sweat on hiking up the active volcano known as Cerro Negro, where some people have hit speeds of up to 90km/hr. LOCO! *** If you go, I would suggest acquiring a bandana you can rip in two, and tie the ankles of your suit tight to you, so that your legs don't get torn up by the volcanic rocks.  Bigfoot hostel ends your tour with beer, cookies and mojitos :) What could be better?!

Wednesday- Leon does it big for 'El Classico' the annual match(es) between FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. We got some drinks in and watched the game at a popular sports bar with a massive projector screen and plenty of crazy locals in support of both sides.  1-1 result and an afternoon followed by more drinks... :)

Oh Leon, layin' it on us every day and night. Regan will let you in on the rest of our crazy week.

El Tunco Part 2: Tunco Tips and Blips

Hola, Smitty here! Sometimes I think its a little hard to say exactly what you want to say when you find yourself in a place that speaks to you without needing to say anything at all.  El Tunco is a place that shifts in shape, and if you will it, it can be exactly what you need it to be for you in that moment. Regan got a little unlucky in her time there (she is without question a tough chica) but I think she would tell you that without an injury, Tunco is a sound spot to post up and enjoy yourself.

That said, WHAT A WICKED WEEK!

As a beach girl by nature, I was pretty hooked right away.  Getting away from Antigua's city life and getting back to living in board-shorts and beach dresses was essential to my well-being. 

The Beach: They call it 'El Tunco' because the rocks right off shore supposedly look like a gigantic roast pig (the Spanish translation). A few highlights of this particular beach are as follows:
1- No sand flies! that's right people - you can cruise around this beach at sunset and all through the night without getting eaten up and looking like a chicken-pox victim the next day. I wont say mosquitos are completely non existent, but its way better here then most other beaches we've been to.
2- Black volcanic Sand: its pretty lovely stuff, soft and pretty and different, but CUIDADO (careful!) because by 11am - that stuff is en FUEGO (fire) and without sandals, tramping around can prove deadly.
3- Surfing: while Regan and I aren't exactly seasoned surfers, (okay we pretty much suck) renting a board is pretty cheap down this way. $5USD for a 1/2 day and $10 for an hour lesson + and hour after to mess around and test your skillz. WORD!  Also, for the more experienced wave rider, Tunco has a beautiful point break known as Sunzal which gets pretty nice sized waves with a channel to the left making for a white-wash free paddle out.  Enjoy a sunset out there on the water and remind yourself where you are, I guarantee you won't forget it.

ON LEAVING: During the high season, it is very easy to get to El Tunco, but we found it pretty tricky when it came to leaving. Buses OUT of El Tunco book up very fast and only run 4 days a week so make sure if you're on a tight schedule, that you look into out-going buses early on in your stay.  We paid $50 USD to go from there to Leon, Nicaragua and booked our bus 5 days in advance.

Like Regan said, El Tunco is pretty small; 2 main streets are what make up this fun little beach scene. That being said, while I know some people who have gotten stuck there for months at a time, I personally LOVED it as a vacation location, and would go back many times over on somewhat shorter trips. It was a great place to re-connect with people from earlier on in our trip, (since it's such a popular destination within El Salvador) as well as meet a whole slew of crazy new characters we now call amigos.

Enjoy El Tunco! Ladies; VIVA ladies night and fellas, VIVA ladies night too.  Go to Take-a-Wok and get the best Asian stir-fry, rent a board and catch some waves, take a late night skinny dip with your silly friends, and get a ginger shot at the smoothie bar when the hangover kicks in!

Tunco Part I (or- "Why Shoes are Awesome")

So after our exhausting/exhilarating/epic time in San Pedro, Katie and I decided it was high time we got back to the coast. We hitched a shuttle back to Antigua, and spent two "business days" (aka she hunted for necessities like a camera charger, while I was laid up with food poisoning) before grabbing a bus to El Tunco, a beach in El Salvador. We got a bunk at a hostel called Papaya, and immediately fell in love with Tunco.

El Tunco is a little surf town with two main roads, a few clubs, a long stretch of beach, and not much else. The closest main town is La Libertad, which is a 30 minute ride by "chicken bus". We haven't quite decided why they're referred to as "chicken buses"... perhaps because they cram you in there like chickens in a truck? Or it may be the fact that it wouldn't be entirely surprising to find someone transporting a chicken or two with them. Either way, these buses are retired (read: didn't pass inspection) school buses from the US that have been painted ridiculous colors and utilized as a form of hectic public transport here. All in all they're fairly cheap and efficient, if ridiculously crowded, loud, and unpredictable.

Anyway, our second night there a few of us decided to cook a family style meal at Papaya. Into the chicken bus we piled, and proceeded to hang on for dear life as we cruised into Libertad. We opted to hitchhike  in the back of a pickup truck on the way home, just to round out the experience. Two hours later, about ten of us were dining on veggie pasta, garlic bread, ginger stir fry, and more than a few bottles of wine. Dinners like those are definitely our favorite parts of hostel living!

A few hours after dinner everyone had moved onto a club called La Bocana, right on the beach. It was an equal mix of travelors and locals, and the place was packed. Everyone was dancing away to local pop music (with Gangnam Style thrown in for good measure), and overall having a great night. And then I decided to stomp on a broken bottle. Barefoot.

[SIDE NOTE: As a rule, we never go barefoot unless we're at the actual beach. We see it all the time, even in cities like Antigua, and think it's idiotic and unhygienic how many of our fellow travelers refuse to wear shoes, even in restaurants or grocery stores. Sorry if that offends anyone, but this is our blog so... we win.]

The events of this fateful Friday just added to reinforce that belief. I broke my own personal rule and kicked off the Havianas I kept tripping over as I made a pathetic attempt to salsa with a local on the dance-floor. Everyone else was doing it, why not me? Less than 30 seconds later I was sitting on the side of the club holding a sliced right foot and apologizing to the security guard (who was incredibly sweet and helpful) for bleeding all over his bar. Once I got over the shock of what I had just done- okay and stopped crying, I admit it- I hobbled my sorry butt back to our hostel, where luckily two of our friends were hanging out in the kitchen. Tanis helped me clean and bandage my foot while Greg ("because I have no idea what else to do") made us some epic grilled peanut butter and honey sandwiches.

Unfortunately, this was probably my most memorable event of Tunco. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time (as you'll soon read from Katie's post) trying to surf and meeting some truly amazing people. However, the memories of Kings Cup games with 15 people from 7+ countries (be a gecko!), gorgeous sunsets, and beach bonfires are sadly mixed in with memories of supergluing my wound shut, walking like a Crip, and changing the bandages and athletic tape 2-3x a day to keep the dirt and sand out. Summary of this post: Tunco is incredible, but keep your shoes on!

Livin la Vida at Lake Atitlan!

Hola -Smitty here, keeping things rollin' on...
We took a full day to recover after our New Years Eve night, it was necessary and we spent the day lounging around on bean bags and watching Guatemalan pirated DVD's at the hostel. I think I made a run to subway later that day too- the Italian BMT sub is Hangover Heaven!

The following day, we left with a friend and took a 2+ hour bus ride to Lake Atitlan.  Our shuttle took us on a winding road to the town of Panajachel, and from there we went to the docks and caught a water taxi across the lake to the town of San Pedro.  While en-route, I had the luxury of becoming a human shield for Caitlin and Al so that they would not get splashed on. (This was NOT a voluntary move and I was not pleased about coming out of the boat looking like a wet dog). 

When we got there, we followed our amigo who had been to San Pedro before, and wound up at a place called Café Atitlan.  I had a great first night out flying solo as my companions were dead tired and total party poopers. We moved the next day to another spot called Mr. Mullet's Hostel which became our home away from home.  For only 30Q/night (that's $3.70 USD!) we had a 4 person dorm, free Wifi, HOT SHOWERS (yes - few and far between) brand new mattress that allowed me to sleep like a baby, Kitchen, etc.  More then all the fabulous amenities,  what won me over was the atmosphere and the overall friendliness of the staff. The owner Tim aka Mr. Mullet himself, is a very chill guy and has put together a solid place for the weary traveler to rest his or her head. I highly recommend anyone passing through San Pedro to stay at Mullets- its cheap, its cozy, and its a real, real good time.

While we were in San Pedro we had a little fun and brightened our horizons with an array of new activities. We kayaked around the lake, we did an afternoon of horseback riding, explored the local market (where you can stuff yourself for less than $1 US dollar full of delicious local dishes) and we even attended a roaring local Basketball match, where some quetzals were thrown down for bets on the winner of the game.

One of the best things about San Pedro however, is the American Style BBQ that takes place at Deep End Bar & Pool every Sunday afternoon. You can get anything from beef or pork ribs, to burgers, rump steaks, even bacon wrapped fillet minion (and one plate can easily feed two people) They also do 5Q tequila shots on the hour, every hour [interjection from Caitlin: our group of friends teamed up with one goal in mind: DO NOT LET KATIE DISCOVER ITS THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES OF AN HOUR. She had the habit of showing up with a tray with 15 or more shots, and just scanning like a deadly eagle, looking for some poor person to hand a tequila shot to. Even more than she loves tequila, Katie loves making people do tequila shots with her. Especially once she finds out you loathe tequila]. Sunday, fun-day amigos!

I can honestly say that I had TOO much fun here, and eventually, to save myself from mortal peril due to excess enjoyment of life itself, we had to make moves to keep keeping on.

Author switch! So I agree with everything Katie said. San Pedro is an amazing place, probably the stop on our journey where I've felt most at home. There's a ton to do- kayaking, jumping off the "trampoline" at San Marcos, trivia night at El Barrio, impromptu Aussie weddings at Buddha Bar, horseback riding, poolside lounging, and heaps more. And yes, we did do ALL of the aforementioned activities. Our team did abysmally at trivia, I remembered my love-hate relationship with horses, and was a proud bridesmaid in the wedding of Brent and Taighen (our favorite Aussie couple, whom we first met in Lanquin. Fun fact- Brent is responsible for my "Reggie" nickname). Not sure if it'll hold up to Australian law, but it was good enough for all of us!

I also strongly agree with Katie's last statement- San Pedro will eat you alive if you aren't careful. From the deadly happy hour at Zoola hostel (free shot with every drink from 4-11pm), to the late night partying at Buddha bar, to the even LATER night after-party at Psy-House (an uninhabited house that turns into an unlicensed bar and trance club once everything else shuts down) it's easy to let itineraries, goals, and life in general slip away as you fall into a comfortable rhythm with great people. We planned on being there for a few days, and all of a sudden ten had flown by! I fully plan on returning to the Lake for the last portion of my trip, and can't wait to reunite with some truly epic individuals.

Bienvenidos 2013 - Antigua

Picture this- you're riding in a minibus, packed with people from all over the globe trying to speak to one another in 3 different languages; English, Spanish, and Italian. It's loud, it's cramped, you have a hangover that rivals your prime college days, the ride ahead of you is 6 hours too long, and your best friend is possibly in an even WORSE condition than you. This was our ride to Antigua.

Caitlin and I were MORE than ready to exit our minibus when we got to the city of Antigua; we clearly had a great last night in Lanquin, and we arrived at our new destination with thoughts of making the new year even better but first a minor recovery was in order.

We took the advice of a friend we had met on the road and tried our luck at hostel called Dionisio but that may have been the worst decision thus far in our trip... we shall leave the friend unnamed for that reason alone. Lets just say that being woken up at 6am with firecrackers literally outside your dorm door and being torn up by bed bugs was not our idea of a pleasant time so we nixed that place as soon as the morning came.

We moved to a wicked fun place called Jungle Party Hostel and from the second we walked in the front gate we knew we were going to have a good time.  We stayed up in the loft (if your over 5ft tall, watch your head on the rafters!!) and had good mattresses and large lockers to store our gear.  They also include breakfast in their price per night which is awesome. The first few nights were hazy fun and we hadn't even celebrated the new year yet. ohhh boy....

Truthfully for me, Antigua was more of a miss than a hit, if you're into city slickin' it may just be the place for you. Good food, good nightlife, and large markets draw tourists to this destination but if your a beach bum like me, you'll find a way out fast! Caitlin will fill you in on our NYE night though, GOOD TIMES!

So I liked Antigua a bit more than Katie did- I really enjoyed wandering around the town with our friend Mike and exchanging info about the city and Fact-of-the-Day-type knowledge (yeah I know, nerd alert). It's a beautiful city with amazing architecture and great shopping, especially if you know where to look (thanks, Julie!).

The day of NYE we started noticing a lot- and I mean a LOT- of feminine clothing, mostly saucy silk bathrobes and corsets, floating around Jungle Party. Turns out, everyone got free beer that night if the boys dressed in drag. As for the girls, well we just had to wear these gold halos, like the angels we are! Stop rolling your eyes. I'm serious. Katie, myself, and Juliette (one of the Rebel Gypsies from Mirador, you reunite with everyone on the Gringo Trail)  got a group of Aussie guys dressed up reaaal pretty, donned our halos, and started the party.

A bit of an aside: have we mentioned that the people of Central America love their fireworks? Cause they f****** love their fireworks. They set them off at 8pm, 7am, or mid-afternoon. They shout "cuidado!" (careful!) and then throw fireworks AT you. Yes, it's about as funny as it sounds. For a brief moment on Christmas, I thought there was a revolution in progress. That was a huge part of New Years- watching, hearing, and dodging fireworks.

We spent midnight with Juliette at the park watching- you guessed it!- fireworks and exchanging kisses and wishes. After that we went to a local club and reunited with some friends from Jungle, who had ditched the drag queen look (mostly) and were ready to party. The rest, as they say, is hazy. I mean history. The rest, is history. It was a helluva way to kick off 2013- may we all be as blessed in this year as we were in 2012!

Lanquin and Semuc Champey

Alright so after dealing witht two bouts of food poisoning, a sliced open foot, severe chest cold, and bed bugs (ALL in the last two weeks), I've concluded that either I've reaaaaally pissed someone off in the karma system, or I'm being punished for ignoring this blog for so long. My theory is that if I do 1.6 million random acts of kindness, and update this thing, I should be alright.

So Katie provided an epic account of Mirador- truly a life-changing experience. We continue to run into some of the friends we've made there along this Gringo Trail we're traveling, and we couldn't be happier about it! Seeing as how we've been absolutely terrible at updating this blog, we'll work to take you guys up to date bit-by-bit, since no one wants to read a 20-paragraph blog entry.

Once we returned to Flores from Mirador, Katie, Sofia, and I booked a bus to Lanquín, to check out the glorious pools of Semuc Champey. We landed at the Zephyr Lodge, a beautiful spot with sweeping views of the valley and crystal river below. In fact, we spent Christmas Day tubing down that very river with a crew from Zephyr and a bag of beers (props to Brenda the beer wench, nicely done!). Christmas night consisted of an awesome party, complete with tequila shots and one very epic speech by Dieter (a Guatemalan who was taught to drink by Irish guys... this man is a legend).

We took a day off to recover, and then all hopped in the back of a pickup truck and arrived at Semuc Champey after a very bumpy 20 minute ride. The day was pretty action-packed; first we explored a water-filled cave using only candles (easier than you might think... definitely a unique experience). After that it was time for the infamous rope swing. Everyone we'd talked to said they got absolutely WRECKED on this thing, but we all did pretty well. Except for that one girl... but I'm sure she's recovered by now. Because we hadn't had enough action yet, we decided to jump off the 30 foot bridge on our way to the park.

Hiking around the park was awesome, with the gorgeous views being well-worth the climb. Semuc Champey's main attraction is a series of crystal blue pools formed by the Cahabón River. They're stepped, so water flows down from one to another, and there are endless possibilities for jumping and climbing. After we'd exhausted all our energy, it was time to clamber back into the pickup and force our jello-like limbs to cling on for the jolting ride home. 

We spent another day at Zephyr enjoying the views and meeting some fantastic, Jager-loving Aussies who promptly awarded me the nickname of Reginald, or Reggie for short. I've been going by Regan down here, since the whole "Cait and Katie" thing seemed to be confusing for people, and we were both sick of responding only to find that it was the other Caitlin/Katelyn being summoned. Anyway, after our fun-filled stay at Zephyr, it was time to head to Antigua to kick off the New Year! 

The Trek to Mirador

Aloha Amigos! Katie here- we are alive and well after spending the turn of a new era at the ancient Mayan City of El Mirador! We have been cruising around the beautiful country of Guatemala ever since and we've made a truly great start to 2013!

El Mirador: I will start from the start: (as that is usually a good place to do so)
On our first day, we woke up early -gear packed, and said goodbye to our friend and hostel liason Francisco. We made our way onto a chicken bus designated for our trip and left our big packs behind - taking only a few days worth of gear with us. Making new seat-mates and friends right away was made possible by our over-excitement as well as the lack of space on the bus. Right away we met the infamous "Party Mike" of San Diego (who dresses like Aladin, and parties like Jim Morrison), as well as the lovely Debrow Brothers and tricksters from the Midwest. Caitlin happpend to sit down next to a guy who looked like he had just seen a ghost, or eaten a bad bowl of chili, and I must admit I was a bit worried about the sensitivity of his upchuck reflex.  (We later recommended him to the smaller van and he -Josh- ended up making a speedy full recovery. What a trooper!)

The ride out took us from Flores to Carmelita, and was a bumpy 2 1/2 hours of our lives. Upon crossing into protected Mayan lands, we were met with strange glances, and local boarder gaurds were taking photos of us, as they had never before seen such a large group at one time enter through the gates.  When we rocked up to Carmelita, we were all given breakfast of coffee, beans, eggs, and tortillas and after organized our gear onto the mules with the help of the locals.  Some time passed before our group of 45 was summoned into a large circle where we had a ceremony where a Mayan time keeper by the name of Tatajuan, blessed our journey into the jungle.

And then we were off!  The group quickly broke up into fast, medium and slow, and Regan and I became part of the leading pack.  We had gotten a late start on day 1, which was filled with excitement and conversations of everyone getting to know each other.  We ended our hike in the dark, and some frustration mounted as we continued to wait at the campsite at Tintal, for our gear and tents that we had packed on the slow moving mules.  Dinner, drinks, and smokes were shared and soon enough we were crashed out in our 2 man tent.

The second morning was a decently early start, and a healing circle with the notorious Doctor "Gato" was formed by people in our group (myself included) who wanted to continue the positive flow of energy on the second morning. Good vibes kids.

Onward through the forest we went, and because of our morning promptness, we arrived at our campsite by midafternoon with plenty of sunlight left! Again, waiting for the mules was a necessary evil and so a small fellowship was formed and moves were made to catch the sunset on one of El Mirador's half unearthed pyramids known as El Tigre. The sunset was beautiful and as we climbed down we came upon the start of a Mayan ceremony in which chanting, fire spinning (not to be confused with fire dancing) and the burning of offerings to Mayan gods took place.

That night we bonded with our group, drinking and hanging out around the campsite and went to bed in pretty great moods.

The following morning was early, and full of walking around the different sites at El Mirador with the help of our local guides, Juan Pablo and Alex. I wish I had counted the number of stairs we climbed, honestly it was daunting. My favorite site was La Danta, a complex temple that supersedes most other pyramids in the world in both mass and volume. You can see the surrounding unearthed Mayan cities as well as how far you trekked and the vastness of it all is simply unreal.

Back to El Tigre for a Sunset ceremony with our 3rd guide Jen, and this was the moment that I was truly moved by my experience at El Mirador. It hit me like a rogue wave and I was aware of myself and everything I felt in that moment. It was wicked and something I wont ever forget.

Meeting a group of "rebel gypsies" that hiked in without a guide (which is almost impossible to do) made our last day/night tons of fun, and left a good taste in our mouths - minus the fact that we needed to hike all the way back, a wopping 55 kilometers. Not much to say in this regard, we were ready for a swift return to a more thriving civilization and had fresh beers waiting for us after the first days trek back. LOVELY how a cold, shitty beer can taste so good after a long day of huffing it through the jungle.

Finally, we made it to Carmelita and then back to Flores and our time being sweaty and dirty chicas was over. It felt nice to shower and put on a dress, but it felt even better knowing what had just accomplished and seen.