The monotony of the bus provided an opportunity for our group bond. Probing questions were asked, quizzes attempted and tequila consumed. Laughter and comradeship took over from white line fever and a big thank you goes out to Neil & Liz, James, Ian & Kim, Heike, Denise & Karen, Simon & Ngaire for making the tour memorable.
The chicken bus thunders across the ancient cobblestones competing with horse drawn carriages whose cargo holds photo snapping tourists. The Santa Catalina arch welcomes all and the volcanic sisters of Auga, Acatenango, Fuego and Pacaya ring the city. For 5 days Antigua has been our home; a rest stop on our sojourn. Our abode, the Hotel Posada San Pedro (The West Wing) has been an oasis as we have been the ONLY guests in the entire facility. So in reality we have had a maid, a butler and a doorman and the whole of the top floor to ourselves.
We have wondered the cobblestone streets, descended in to catacombs where the illumination of skeletal remains glowed, we have listened to Christmas carols played on pan pipes and have seen the many beggars strategically placed outside McDonald's with their rotting limbs mingling with the aroma of Big Macs. The sound of Salsa music has lured us an and the rhythm has taken hold and Salsa lessons bear fruit. Margaritas still dance upon our taste buds and fine dining has still been difficult to find. (Frida's has become our local and we were attracted by the monobrow.) Markets tempt us but their call is dwindling after 2 months of travel across 7 countries. We have seen a real life gnome, an albino and sewerage swiming plumbers. Colourful artichecture catches the eye and a volcano spews forth its magna.
It is this volcano, Pacaya that we hike. Evidence of its last major eruption (41 Klms of lava in 2010) covers the landscape. Vapour rises from its pores and a pallatable sulfur taste is present. The heat radiates through our shoes and we stop to toast marshmallows in the mouth of the rumbling giant. As we watch the sunset from our vantage point, excited and animated we see Pacaya's pyrotechnics light up the sky.
An erupting volcano, what else could we ask for.
When travelling never underestimate the value of McDonalds. This fast food chain can be often relied upon for free Wifi and a reasonably clean toilet. With the recent addition of the McCafe you can score a decent coffee and cake too.
Tip curtesy of Neil from the Mayan crew. Aka Big Mac.
We are compiling a list of who we think would be the most useful travelling companions to have on a tour.
1. A doctor
2. A multi linguist
3. A hairdresser
4. A computer nerd
5. Anyone with a bottle opener.
Post in comments if you agree/disagree or have someone to add to the list.
1, 3, 6 & 8 Antigua - Guatemala
2: San Crisobal - Mexico
4: Chichen Itza -Mexico
5: Lago de Atitlan -Guatemala
7: Uxmal - Mexico
Our luggage is thrown Chicken Bus style onto our new home as we continue our journey into Guatemala. Straight away we experience the crash of people, soaring mountains, plunging waterfalls and ominous volcanoes. We baptise our new bus with shots of tequila as we travel to the township of Panijachel. Here volcanoes stand guard, clouds stretch out their fingers providing an illusion that dormant giants are stirring and the shores of Lago de Atitlan are encircled by a potential ring of fire. The islands of San Pablo and San Juan rise from its depths and fisherman search for tomorrows haul.
We have arrived at San Juan on the celebration of their feast day. Beautiful murals adorn walls and decorative tut-tuts zip through tbe streets and submerged houses pay homage to effective town planning. Women co-operatives demonstrate the art of weaving and artisans brightly paint the life of the island. Local wares and foodstuffs pop up on every corner and the sound of local chatter and music fills the streets.
We wander the streets enjoying the atmosphere and the experience that travel provides.
Both cultures rely heavily on staples of black beans, white rice, corn tortillas and fresh fruit. The faire is quite similar although Mexican tends to be more spicy and offer more menu variety. In Mexico, the traditional seafood cocteles looked more like a soup, which according to tour mates was delish. Tacos, fajitas and empanadas are a popular choice. Guatemalan seems to have a more limited spread. Pepian or Hilachas; a meat based stew in a thick sauce. Choice of either pollo or carne with vegetables and a side serve of rice and tortillas.
Traditional desserts tend to be banana breads, sweet tortillas with fruit and rice pudding. The favorite fruit is the mighty banana which seems to feature at every meal. The opintia or prickly pear is another popular, versatile fruit.
The coctele menu was well and truly sampled on our Mayan adventure along with quiet a few deadly tequila shots. Hibiscus flower or rose of Jamaica was a delicious detox drink with many medicinal quailities on offer.
If you are travelling inland in less developed countries, it is probably best to avoid the seafood menu. Health and safety standards can leave a little to be desired. Fresh is always best!
Sometimes the thoughts in my head get so bored they go out for a stroll through my mouth. This is rarely a good thing.
To overcome boredom on a long bus trip a litre bottle of appropriately named tequila of top quality is recommended.
We wonder the streets of San Crisobal breathing in the atmosphere. Furries in their black alpaca skirts hawk their wares and street urchins with shoe shine hands look constantly downwards at our feet. We see the Vegas Madonna taking pride above the altar framed with Neon Lights whilst merchants sell chips, and beer to accompany the euchrist and a vengeful God glares downward. Our feet echo on the cobbled streets as we explore alleyways of brightly painted houses and stores that provide a kaleidoscope of colour.
Cakes galore are devoured whilst frozen margaritas and local beers are sampled from the many bars. Lookouts are conquered and we are rewarded with panoramic views. Conversations are shared and laughter booms loud; music floats along the airways and traveling companions share stories and transform into best drinking buddies which in turn makes for hilarious times and thumping headaches the next morning!
Mexico is one big country and hours on a bus can testify to that. The tyranny of distance has been endured by the magnificent Mayan Ruins we have seen. A new wonder of the world, Chichen Itza stood imposing it's authority around the surroundings. Serpent sculptures guard the stairway to the Sharman's altar; bird like music echoes from the many clapping hands and the Mayan calendar clicks forward watching the rays of the sun fall across the many temples.
In all honesty, if we had to cast our vote for the new wonders of the world, we would have gone for the ruins of Uxmal. Struggling figs, a canopy of mist, the humidity that suffocates and ruins that jettison from the jungle floor capture the senses. Uxmal and Palenque are tangible experiences whilst Chichen Itza stood sterile like.
It is the great debate as to whether Mayan's practiced ritualised human sacrifice but they did observed the skies above and pioneered an understanding of time. They built temples, observatories and playing fields where ceremonial ball games were played and the captain of the winning team was honoured by offering up his life to the Sharman via beheading. Like most royalty, they practiced the art of incest and body mutilation. Heads were flatten by wooden boards so that they resembled corn and in breeding led to deformities and dwarfism.
It is little wonder their civilisation collasped.
We would like to invite all past travel companions to contribute to our book list. Just post into comments with your 2 top recommendations. Cheers!
Bring a double adaptor to plug into your universal charger, so two for one recharges can occur.
Tip courtesy of Ian ( Mayan crew)
Never take photos from a bus at a road blockage where armed and masked protesters are demanding money to pass. The reason for the blockage is that the Mexican government wishes to privatise all education and have no government run schools.
We have decided to ask all our tour mates for book recommendations.
Our Mayan crew top reads are as follows:
Collapse (civilisations) by Jared Diamond
Notes from a small Island by Bill Bryson
The Assyrian by Nicholas Guild
After you'd gone by Maggie O'Farrell
The devotion of suspect by Keigo Higashino
The world according to Garp by John Irving
Cat's cradle by Kurt Vonnegut
Cat's eyes by Margaret Atwood
Lost in a good book & The Eyre affair by Jasper Fforde
Are you Dave Gorman? & Dave Gorman's googlewhack adventure by Dave Gorman
Yes man by Danny Wallace
The historian by Elizabeth Kostavo
The house of silk by Anthony Horowitz
Ice station by Matthew Reilly
All Stephen king books.
Happy reading!
When travelling; It is a great idea to get into the habit of saying farewell to your chair when you leave a restaurant ect. That way you will see that discarded jacket or bag before departing. Also works in your accomodation. A quick goodbye to your bathroom , under the bed and bedside table when checking out; will save the anguish of realising that you left the phone charger behind when you are 300kms away.
Thanks to Sally from vodka shot tour for sharing the tip.
Isla Mujeres
Crystal clear waters,
Lapping the sandy shore
Sunshine, humidity, tropical storms...
Tacos, fajitas,
guacamole, quesadillas.
Margaritas and sangrias.
Ancient Mayan ruins,
Stand magestic
Tales of lives,
Long gone.
San Christobal,
Brightly coloured buildings,
Cobblestone streets,
Village alive.
Red, green and white
The pride of Mexico!
We sit sipping frozen Margaritas as the turquoise water rocks the local fishing boats. Sizzling Fajitas call to our tastebuds, Bee Bee and Lucinda wrap us in face masks, cover us in oil, stretch,manipulate and rub every joint and muscle as we lay in a spa pavillion on the beach. Lea is unsure whether Bee Bee's hands are rough due to the calluses from her work or whether it was a wart infestation. We roam the island in our Golf Cart stopping off at cemeteries, beaches and ruins. We watch the setting sun, and visit the cliffs of dawn where the first rays of the sun caress the Ixahel ruins. We haggle for Lucha Libra masks, knowing we are easy prey, but are happy with our haul. We roam the sea side township with our masks on and a new identity is born. We get lost, argue, but laugh in the end. Brad looks at evey map, a sparkle comes to his eye,and yet at every turn we roam and roam and roam. We find a post office and watch in wonder at the origami manner in which they package our parcel. We also know that it will be a miracle if it makes it to our home. We feel the sand encrust our feet as we wonder the pure white beaches and we are greeted as locals at the Mango Café as we devour our way through the menu. We frolic in the pool at Casa Caribe and Salud the world, the majestic Isla and ourselves with our Pacificos, Coronas and Champagne. We are mighty happy!
Our dining adventure on Isla Mujeres was delightful indeed. Most days we headed to our "local" Mango Cafe where friendly staff greeted us and delivered scrumptious meals to tantilise our taste buds. The signature "Mango salad" was to die for. Fresh lettuce, almond slithers, pineapple, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, feta cheese with an amazing secret dressing. Yummo! We worked our way through the menu, relishing the flavours of fajitas and tacos. Found a new favorite drink; the mighty Margarita. Of course we did not neglect the corona. Mexican chocolate "Ron" went down a treat, only problem was there was never any left for ron.
Off to Mangos for our last supper before departing our fanasty Island. Have to indulge in a margarita or two , Salud!
1: On top of Mt. Kilimanjaro. 2: Serengetti. 3&4: Isla Mujeres. 5: Grand Canyon. 6: Moscow
We are greeted at Cancun and our immigration declaration card is taken from us. We stand in front of a button. Green; we're on our way. Red; bags scanned and searched, interrogation, pat down and even, 'please cough now sir.'
With music resembling" Who Want to be a Millionaire" and a spot light illuminating the button we clasp our hands together and push.
Red! Off we're whisked. First our bags are zapped, then carried over to a sterile stainless steel bench, all contents scatterd. Opps! Beef Jerky in a vacuumed sealed pack is found. Stern looks, animated discussions, re-checking of our entry card. Questions barked, beef jerk confiscated and eaten by the officers at lunch. A finger is pointed to the exit and we are safely on our way.
As we sit perched above the Caribbean sea with the sky putting on its final show before slipping from view; colours burn brightly and the sea below shimmers in the setting light. All is quiet except for the rhythmic call of the sea below and the sound of Corona bottle tops hitting the floor.
We sit and watch Iguanas search out the last of the sun's warmth, the first stars break through the approaching darkness and the waves synchronise their final movements as they reach the shore.
After 6 weeks of constant travel an euphoric rapture engulfs us as we realise we can do as much or as little as we want on our island paradise.
The grandiosity of mother nature.
Awe.
The sun rises,
Shadows move across the canyon.
Serenity.
Layers of colour arch up the walls,
Brilliance of blue, green and orche.
Stunning.
Clear water cascades from the ridge,
Into the sparkling pools below.
Tranquility.
A safe haven nestles at the base,
Of the magnificant, ancient towers.
Calming.
The sky full of far away cilivations.
Silence fills the air as night settles in.
Contentment.
The ignition ignites, gears engage; the throb of the electronic engine is almost orgasmic and suddenly we're off in our 'Doof, Doof' Golf Cart. We hoon around the streets of Isla Mujeres. The speedo maxs out at 25klms and we are like Lynard Skynyrd's Free Bird. The wind forms Picasso style friezes with our hair and inscets bypass the windscreen and land like dental floss across our teeth.
We are searching for the 3000 years old Mayan Ruins on an island that is 7.5klms long and 1klm wide; a piece of cake. Sorry! I forgot to mention that Brad is driving, following a map that he has committed to memory off the wall of our accommodation. After 2 complete laps of the island and with no Mayan ruins in sight, Brad finally admits that there may be a fault in the map back at the accommodation, or early on set Alzheimers had occurred or possibly it was the 8 Coronas he has had whilst driving that has caused the misadventure.
Finally, after some aminated conversation and 2 hours of aimless driving, we find our bearings. Brad has been allocated the position of designated drinker after a run in with an octogenarian on an electric scooter and Lea has taken over the controls of the Golf Cart. Within 5 minutes we arrive at the Mayan ruins which are surrounded by a bizzare series of rusted out sculptures. Set on an outcrop of rocks that hangs over the Caribbean Sea, the ruins stand as a testimony of a a civilisation that lived 3000 years ago. They stand on the Cliffs of Dawn; a place which is the first in all Mexico to be kissed by the sun's rays.
With Lea safetly behind the wheel, the Golf Cart meanders back to our abode ready for its next adventure.
A big word up to our Canyon guide Eddie for providing us with healthy and tasty meals whilst on our hike.
Eddie's tuna special
Tuna flakes
Purple grapes cut in half
Chopped green apple
Almond flakes
2 parts mayo to 1 mustard
Mix everything together and dress with mayo/mustard. Spoon into pocket bread for a tasty refreshing lunch!
Have to say the best meals we had in USA were on the hike.
Bling, bling, flash, flash, scull, scull, chug, chug, bogan, bogan, oi, oi, splash, splash, chuck, chuck, blink, blink, drink, drink, bet, bet, porn, porn, gash, gash. Vegas, Oh! Vegas.
An amazing engineering feat. No matter what slant you put on it, its just a really big hole in the ground filled with water and cement. After three hours driving back from the Canyon to Vegas on our road trip it provides a great opportunity to get out and stretch those legs.
We sit on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, isolated. The vastness stretches outward; the walls textured, layered with hundreds of million of years of history and our presence represents a mere micro second of relevance. Yet as we walk the 12 kms from the Trail Head to Hermits Rest, we watch the changing light mould new images, the vegatation change and a male buck and his harem of elks graze near the Canyon rim. We stand on outcrops hoping to view the mighty Condor gliding on the currents of the wind, but alas, Canyon Ravens present in numerous formations instead.
We pose like tourists, camera snapping trying to capture that all important selfie, a memory, a picture in time. They say a picture paints a thousand words but seeing it makes you realise that no photo can do the Canyon justice.
