Nicaragua - August 2006:After several days of suffering through an oppressive heat wave with no water or electricity, Catherine and Jocelyn finally find reprieve.
The deep blue waters of the volcanic Laguna de Apoyo are the perfect therapy for body and soul. The girls enjoy countless hours floating on tubes and reveling in peace. Intermissions are spent sipping beers on hammocks before pursuing afternoons of kayaking or sailing.
Their spacious room at the Monkey Hut provides the ideal resting spot for their vacation getaway. Finally, after a week of travel they feel detached from the hassles of home. No phones, no email, no worries.
To celebrate, Catherine and Jocelyn decide to treat themselves to a meal at the local lakeside restaurant. They walk down the road about ten minutes from the Monkey Hut and sit down for an abundant feast of Nicaragua's best - rice, beans and meat.
Sated, they pay and hurry home to slumber's call.
The girls wake up with the birds in hopes of catching the early bus to their next destination. A review of belongings reveals a missing wallet. The peace of the previous two days immediately becomes hurried panic.
"Where the hell is Catherine's wallet?!?!"
They frantically search the room, the hostel, the road, the restaurant, and yet no wallet shows up. With little money and no contact with the outside world they hurry to the nearest town in hopes of canceling Catherine's card before any damage is done.
Luckily, their speed in the early hour proves beneficial and the only damage is canceled cards for Catherine. They use Jocelyn's cards and enjoy the last few days of vacation before heading to the normalcy of home.
Nicaragua - June 2008:
Eight months of travel and finally Catherine and Jocelyn decide to revisit a destination. Originally, Nicaragua was to be skipped altogether. But, nostalgic about the Laguna de Apoyo's serenity, they decide a revisit is worthwhile.
Overtaken by excited memories they grab a cab to the Laguna and are not disappointed. Even before checking into their room they don swimwear and bake in the morning sun while floating aimlessly on tubes. Perfect. Just as they remembered it. The rest of the day is spent lounging on the grounds enjoying the lush surroundings. A long kayak across the Laguna allows for a beautiful sunset view before a late evening storm cools the night.
The girls wash up and go to work on whipping up a meal. Unfortunately, the day's peace is interrupted by the party intentions of the ill focused receptionist. She and a group of friends overindulge in alcohol and ridiculously loud music while the rest of the guests try to prepare and eat dinner in the sole communal space.
Catherine and Jocelyn's happiness is not affected. They make due with the irresponsible revelers and after a few hands of rummy they are off to the solitude of a quiet room. A perfect day for the girls albeit an unnerving sense of recklessness from some of the other guests.
Catherine must have sensed it strongly because all night she struggles to sleep. The first drops of light are welcome reprieve from her tossing and turning. She "awakes" at around 5am and quickly wakes Jocelyn up for a glimpse of the sunrise. Although reluctant to shake her slumber, Jocelyn complies with Catherine's wishes and soon they are headed to the lake's edge. As they descend the stairs of the deck Jocelyn notices a "backpacker" Catherine had met the previous night. He and his buddy had slept on the deck and now he too is awake. The eye contact is fleeting and Jocelyn soon catches up with Catherine.
The morning light is soothing although the sun's emergence lacks the spectacular. The girls giggle and joke with each other and soon sleep calls again. They head back to their room but to their surprise their door is locked. Immediately Jocelyn notices the missing "backpackers" that had slept on the deck the night before. Something is not right. Before the sunrise they had left the door unlocked feeling quite safe in the communal style setting.
The girls try to find the receptionist to open the door but in the early hour of 6am she is still in bed nursing the countless drinks of the previous evening. With each passing minute and the continual disappearance of the "backpackers" Jocelyn senses an urgency to get into the room. After several failed attempts they finally find a spare key behind the reception desk.
Once in the room they find two missing credit cards, $200 missing in cash and a missing brand new iPod that they purchased just two weeks earlier. Panic and mayhem set in. Catherine promptly and unabashedly wakes up the receptionist with demands for assistance.
Unfortunately the peace of the Laguna is achieved with no phones and no internet. The girls pack up their gear and within twenty minutes are back in Granada, the closest civilized outpost. By the time internet and phone connections are accessed it is already 7:30am, over two hours since the robbery. The credit card companies confirm the worst. The "backpackers" diligently charged over $800 at gas stations and supermarkets.
The girls are completely dejected. Many times during the ordeal wishes of going home are uttered. Plans of visiting organic chocolate farms are quickly discarded. The girls decide that Nicaragua is not a friendly host and by the following day they are meeting Victoria in San Salvador.
Nothing like family to make things better.
June 21, 2008
June 16, 2008
Top Models are Back!
If Bogota was not prepared for the NYC divas then Bocas del Toro could not even compete for their attention. Carl and Efrain decided to try their luck again and joined us for a beach getaway the first week of June in the Panama archipelago of Bocas del Toro. Unfortunately for them Bocas was a bit overrun with gringos with a spring break mentality and peace was hard to find unless one was willing to pay a lot of money.
And since no one wants to visit Latin America to spend a lot of money we passed most of our time at small beaches or at our beach house. Oh yeah, the beach house. Be careful what you reserve over the internet. Our "beach side" house "near a village" was actually smack in the middle of a collection of local homes in a very poor area. The house was very beautiful but the tiny "beach" in front was very dumpy. Literally used by the locals as a dump. Being in a beautiful house amidst such extreme poverty was very difficult for all of us to cope with. Some people may like to marvel in their privilege by seeing the hierarchy firsthand, but others of us actually feel morally responsible for the world's disparities. There is one thing staying at a $10 hostel for the night and knowing that it is still luxury for most locals but staying at an overpriced beach house for a week with locals literally walking by all day is a totally different experience.
The house put a damper on the festivities and even worse was Carl's fever of over 103F for over three days. At first we gave him some Tylenol and hydration salts but after a few days and a peak of 104F we feared the worst - dengue or malaria. In the middle of the afternoon instead of sipping pina coladas on the beach we called our water taxi and zipped to the local hospital. We were dropped off in front of a dilapidated building and made it to the hospital after walking over mounds of debris. At the hospital we were sent away until the next morning because the laboratory was closed for day. Luckily, test results came back negative and the only thing lost was beach time. And, Blackberry time for Efrain.
June 13, 2008
We're bringing Papi back
Crew of Papillon - Mike, Eric, Ally, Captain Tom, Catherine and Jocelyn
For months we have anticipated the sail from Cartagena to Panama. Beautiful Caribbean islands and crazy deceptive captains. We seriously did not know what to expect. In Cartagena we thought we would be savy and visit the local marina to scope out the "backpacker" boats. We left the marina totally sketched out by sleazy Colombian captains and even more horror stories of deception.
Luckily, at our hostel we met American brothers Mike and Eric who teamed up with us to find a decent boat. We hit it off with the brothers and decided that they would be great protection in case of any problems. Our second night in Cartagena we met Tom, Captain of the Papillon. The stereotypical German, Tom was blunt and abrasive. Immediately I knew we found our guy. I forked over our deposit as soon as he informed us that he did not drink and frowned upon drinking while we sailed.
We explored Cartagena for two days enjoying real heat and a terrifically restored old town. Not to mention our most favorite food establishment in Latin America - Crepes & Waffles. Since our first ice cream cone in Bogota we have become obsessed groupies. In each large city that we visit we immediately scope out the local Crepes & Waffles and overindulge. We figured Cartagena would hold the distinction of our last South American city and our last Crepes & Waffles.
Many calories later, on Wednesday morning, with all our gear, we headed to the marina to meet Tom, see our sailboat for the first time and bid adieu to South America. We really had no idea what to expect from the Papillon except that at a mere 31 feet it would certainly be a tight squeeze for six people and gear. We boarded the Papillon and I am sure we all had apprehension about the basic and cramped quarters that would be our shared home for five days. Nothing about the Papillon gleamed of luxury.
As we had hoped our crew bonded immediately and the company became more important than the physical space. We not only shared our sail with brothers Mike and Eric, and Captain Tom, but also with Ally, a British woman who has lived in Africa most of her life. She was intelligent, progressive and absolutely warm. As soon as we boarded stories started flowing and before long there was nothing around except laughter and the open seas. As our tiny vessel floated in the Caribbean we were overwhelmed by the peace that surrounded us. The sun's intensity waned as it prepared for its evening departure. With it came a spectacle of colors and light. The only thing more beautiful was the moon rising that surprised us on the other side of the dark sky. We went to sleep in our tight beds feeling completely satisfied.
We awoke very early the next morning to yet another gorgeous sky illuminated by the morning sun. By mid afternoon we had jumped in the water and reveled in its warmth and clarity. A day spent chatting, lounging and relaxing was only made better by our evening visitors, a pod of dolphins.
We went to bed the second night like kids awaiting presents on Christmas morning. The third day would mark our arrival to the San Blas Islands. The prevailing reason why this sail was a must for us was the visit to San Blas. The archipelago is a protected autonomous zone of Panama dedicated to the preservation of the environment and of the indigenous Kuna people who inhabit the islands. The islands were not a disappointment. Isolated white sand beaches with crystal clear waters and complete peace. There is absolutely no infrastructure on the islands, therefore, other than sand and palm trees, you may only see one or two Kuna and not much else.
We were ecstatic to get off the sailboat and enjoy the pristine beach of the small island we called home for our third night. The island was so small one could walk around it in less than ten minutes. We played in the water for hours, enjoyed a lovely dinner on the beach sharing more stories and then camped out for the night.
The trip was a definite highlight of our year of travel. Not only did we experience spectacular scenery and serenity we also got to share it with a great group of people. We shocked Tom's East Berlin sensibilities but that was just an added treat. I cannot believe that I almost convinced Catherine that flying would be better.
Check out the rest of the pictures from our sail at:http://www.juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/5176253_7vKJv#313648508_7sa3q
May 20, 2008
Sir Edmund Hillary Started Small Too
Once again, it was my "determined" goal to climb a snow covered peak during our trip. For months Catherine skillfully distracted my desire, but finally, billing it as our last Ecuadorian adventure, she conceded. Although my initial wish was to climb Ecuador's 3rd highest peak, Cotopaxi at 6000m, I conceded, and we decided instead on the beginner peak of Carihuairazo at 5100m.
We responsibly prepared with several high altitude hikes including a hike from 4000m up to 5000m at the base of Chimborazo, at 6310m, Ecuador's highest peak. Excited and overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the peak, I walked briskly and unfocused, and within thirty minutes I was spent. Every ten steps I had to stop to catch my breath. I got an intense stomachache and headache and thought, "Shit, I'm not going to make it today and certainly not up that peak tomorrow." Catherine, calm and determined, encouraged me to drink water and slow my pace. Luckily, two hours into the hike we spotted the first refuge at 4800m. A sense of relief coupled with my hydration solution found me re-energized and capably fit to ascend to the first refuge, and then quickly up to the second refuge at 5000m. The towering white peak framed perfectly by the piercing blue skies gleamed brightly under a coat of snow like a blanket gingerly placed over a resting body.
We left Chimborazo feeling completely prepared for our Carihuairazo attempt. Of course, we still had adventure to contend with.
The following morning's hike to base camp was preceded by a stressful two hours working to push our pick up truck out of a mud ditch. "Work" out of the way, we hiked to our barren destination and hurried to set up camp while a steady freezing rain impeded swift progress. Muddy, wet and extremely cold, we got in our tent at 2pm for our afternoon siesta while it was still "warm" out.
Dinner was quick and by 6pm we bundled ourselves in everything we brought in the feeble hope of staying warm. Two pairs of thick wool socks. Long underwear, hiking pants and snow pants. T-shirt, long sleeved shirt and outer shell. Balaclava, wool hat and hood. Wool gloves and mountaineering mittens. Me. All stuffed in a sleeping bag and still, very cold. At 4600m the cold and the altitude joyfully join forces to scare off sleep. Although our official wake up call was at 4:30am, my last toss and turn occurred at 2am. I then waited for our 5:30am summit attempt.
We left the tent and it was completely dark, snowing and absolutely freezing. Our guide fed us and we were swiftly off. Catherine quickly got in her groove working crampons and ice ax to near perfection. True to form, my mountaineering boots were a tad oversized and I soon felt heel pain that prevented me from finding my own groove. As the sun rose over the volcano I struggled with the conditions. Knowing that the summit was not too far up I trudged on keeping in step with our guide and Catherine. For sure, the climb was more challenging than I had anticipated. The harsh conditions and the cumbersome gear made for a difficult climb. After three hours, we made it to the summit. Although exhilarated to meet our goal, within minutes we were ready to descend dreaming of a warm shower and warm bed.
The ascent fell into that category of activities we loved accomplishing but would not really consider repeating. Take me to the beach!
Check out the pics:
http://www.juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4925310_hDu8S#294274049_mqQky
We responsibly prepared with several high altitude hikes including a hike from 4000m up to 5000m at the base of Chimborazo, at 6310m, Ecuador's highest peak. Excited and overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the peak, I walked briskly and unfocused, and within thirty minutes I was spent. Every ten steps I had to stop to catch my breath. I got an intense stomachache and headache and thought, "Shit, I'm not going to make it today and certainly not up that peak tomorrow." Catherine, calm and determined, encouraged me to drink water and slow my pace. Luckily, two hours into the hike we spotted the first refuge at 4800m. A sense of relief coupled with my hydration solution found me re-energized and capably fit to ascend to the first refuge, and then quickly up to the second refuge at 5000m. The towering white peak framed perfectly by the piercing blue skies gleamed brightly under a coat of snow like a blanket gingerly placed over a resting body.
We left Chimborazo feeling completely prepared for our Carihuairazo attempt. Of course, we still had adventure to contend with.
The following morning's hike to base camp was preceded by a stressful two hours working to push our pick up truck out of a mud ditch. "Work" out of the way, we hiked to our barren destination and hurried to set up camp while a steady freezing rain impeded swift progress. Muddy, wet and extremely cold, we got in our tent at 2pm for our afternoon siesta while it was still "warm" out.
Dinner was quick and by 6pm we bundled ourselves in everything we brought in the feeble hope of staying warm. Two pairs of thick wool socks. Long underwear, hiking pants and snow pants. T-shirt, long sleeved shirt and outer shell. Balaclava, wool hat and hood. Wool gloves and mountaineering mittens. Me. All stuffed in a sleeping bag and still, very cold. At 4600m the cold and the altitude joyfully join forces to scare off sleep. Although our official wake up call was at 4:30am, my last toss and turn occurred at 2am. I then waited for our 5:30am summit attempt.
We left the tent and it was completely dark, snowing and absolutely freezing. Our guide fed us and we were swiftly off. Catherine quickly got in her groove working crampons and ice ax to near perfection. True to form, my mountaineering boots were a tad oversized and I soon felt heel pain that prevented me from finding my own groove. As the sun rose over the volcano I struggled with the conditions. Knowing that the summit was not too far up I trudged on keeping in step with our guide and Catherine. For sure, the climb was more challenging than I had anticipated. The harsh conditions and the cumbersome gear made for a difficult climb. After three hours, we made it to the summit. Although exhilarated to meet our goal, within minutes we were ready to descend dreaming of a warm shower and warm bed.
The ascent fell into that category of activities we loved accomplishing but would not really consider repeating. Take me to the beach!
Check out the pics:
http://www.juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4925310_hDu8S#294274049_mqQky
RSVP 2010
Our very wet and cold arrival to the Quilotoa Crater Lake.
A better day for our hike to the Black Sheep Inn in Chugchilan.
Quilotoa Crater Lake
Lounging at the Black Sheep Inn
Andy and Michelle have been in Chugchilan for fifteen years developing a true ecolodge supporting sustainability through permaculture design. They have cabanas made of adobe and recycled materials, fully composting toilets for all guests, a net zero waste production, community education projects and countless other measures supporting their vision of environmentally sound tourism.
Of course, being at such an innovative place we met one of the most progressive and chill groups of people in all our travels - Canadian Annie and her Venezuelan husband Rodney traveling for a month in Ecuador with there super cute nine month old Lucia, Australian park ranger and cartographer Joel whose humbling sweetness soothed us all, and Americans Natasha and Jesse who live in a converted school bus and canvas tent on a sustainable commune in Southern California.
We lounged on the vast grounds for two days enjoying captivating and intellectual company. We often meet intriguing people but this group felt perfect for our surroundings. In a few years we hope to invite you to a gathering of the minds at our own lodge tucked deep in the forest of Colombia so brush up on your reading.
Check out our pics of the Black Sheep and our hike on the Quilotoa Loop:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4925203_jvgDj#294266219_28stK
May 19, 2008
I Spoke Too Soon
Sure. After 8 months of travel a horrible day is bound to arise but must it be so bad. Today has been the first day that I have wished to be home. (Even that prospect is depressing since I don't actually have a home.)
Yesterday afternoon we excitedly arrived to Guaranda, happy to be off the beaten path. We checked into our hostel and quickly made it to the town's eccentric and artsy cafe where we enjoyed yummy hot chocolate and games. We returned to the hostel and warmed up while reading our books. A while later I went looking for our iPod to enjoy some tunes before sleep. Surprisingly the iPod was not in my pack. I thought I left it at our previous hostel and immediately called to inquire. I was told to call back in the morning when the regular staff was on duty. I tried to stay positive but could not manage to fall asleep. The iPod is expensive but more importantly it drowns out noise on buses and in hostel rooms. While at home an iPod is just another electronic device, here it greatly contributes to our mental well being.
I awoke early and phoned the previous hostel only to be informed that no iPod was found in our vacated room. We then thought that maybe the staff at our current hostel may have snatched it the previous afternoon while we were gone. When we checked in the owner did warn us that some foreigners just a few days earlier had made accusations of stolen shoes. So instead of leaving our big packs at the hostel and traveling with just a our small daypacks, we left Guaranda fully loaded and quite dejected as we headed to the even smaller village of Salinas. We hoped that the infamous cheese and chocolate of the village would cheer us up.
Salinas was very wet and very cold. Since we arrived the afternoon before May Day, most of the community co-ops on our tour of the town were closed. Instead we walked in the freezing rain looking in through windows as our guide propositioned us with unwelcome overtures. We arrived at noon, by 1:30pm our tour was over, and by 2pm we knew we would be on the 4pm bus back to Guaranda. No amount of chocolate or cheese could make Salinas appealing. The previous day they euthanized their stray dogs and had not collected the bodies off the streets. Around each corner lay dead dogs. For lunch we had unrecognizable meat that Catherine swore was dog meat. I had no proof to dispute her assertions.
As I was feeling sorry for myself trekking back to the bus stop with my heavy and wet pack, a truck sped by and dumped mud all over me. We barely caught the last bus out of town which also happened to be the super local bus. That means packed to capacity with loopy loops (folks chewing the coca leaves) and their countless rice sacks. Within 20 minutes my bladder felt close to explosion. 20 minutes later I maneuvered my way over people and sacks and told the driver I had to pee. Shortly after the bus stopped to get gear off the top and I ran to the side of the road, apologized to the driver for my indiscretion, and squatted for relief...which didn't actually come. Performance anxiety! I got on the bus and shortly after had to beg the driver again to stop and let me get off. Painful.
We made it back to Guaranda and immediately realized our Lonely Planet Ecuador was gone. Lost, forgotten, stolen. Who knows. It was the breaking point. Catherine hopped in a cab headed in one direction and I hopped in a different cab in another direction.
Tonight I sleep alone and with a fever. Yeah, I got sick today!
Yesterday afternoon we excitedly arrived to Guaranda, happy to be off the beaten path. We checked into our hostel and quickly made it to the town's eccentric and artsy cafe where we enjoyed yummy hot chocolate and games. We returned to the hostel and warmed up while reading our books. A while later I went looking for our iPod to enjoy some tunes before sleep. Surprisingly the iPod was not in my pack. I thought I left it at our previous hostel and immediately called to inquire. I was told to call back in the morning when the regular staff was on duty. I tried to stay positive but could not manage to fall asleep. The iPod is expensive but more importantly it drowns out noise on buses and in hostel rooms. While at home an iPod is just another electronic device, here it greatly contributes to our mental well being.
I awoke early and phoned the previous hostel only to be informed that no iPod was found in our vacated room. We then thought that maybe the staff at our current hostel may have snatched it the previous afternoon while we were gone. When we checked in the owner did warn us that some foreigners just a few days earlier had made accusations of stolen shoes. So instead of leaving our big packs at the hostel and traveling with just a our small daypacks, we left Guaranda fully loaded and quite dejected as we headed to the even smaller village of Salinas. We hoped that the infamous cheese and chocolate of the village would cheer us up.
Salinas was very wet and very cold. Since we arrived the afternoon before May Day, most of the community co-ops on our tour of the town were closed. Instead we walked in the freezing rain looking in through windows as our guide propositioned us with unwelcome overtures. We arrived at noon, by 1:30pm our tour was over, and by 2pm we knew we would be on the 4pm bus back to Guaranda. No amount of chocolate or cheese could make Salinas appealing. The previous day they euthanized their stray dogs and had not collected the bodies off the streets. Around each corner lay dead dogs. For lunch we had unrecognizable meat that Catherine swore was dog meat. I had no proof to dispute her assertions.
As I was feeling sorry for myself trekking back to the bus stop with my heavy and wet pack, a truck sped by and dumped mud all over me. We barely caught the last bus out of town which also happened to be the super local bus. That means packed to capacity with loopy loops (folks chewing the coca leaves) and their countless rice sacks. Within 20 minutes my bladder felt close to explosion. 20 minutes later I maneuvered my way over people and sacks and told the driver I had to pee. Shortly after the bus stopped to get gear off the top and I ran to the side of the road, apologized to the driver for my indiscretion, and squatted for relief...which didn't actually come. Performance anxiety! I got on the bus and shortly after had to beg the driver again to stop and let me get off. Painful.
We made it back to Guaranda and immediately realized our Lonely Planet Ecuador was gone. Lost, forgotten, stolen. Who knows. It was the breaking point. Catherine hopped in a cab headed in one direction and I hopped in a different cab in another direction.
Tonight I sleep alone and with a fever. Yeah, I got sick today!
Starring Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronyn
Baños is likely the most touristy place we have visited in Ecuador. Hotels and travel agencies share countless blocks in the small town. Take any step outside and you are hounded with propositions for ATV rentals, bike rentals, hikes and even promised volcanic eruptions.
Baños is famous for thermal baths found in and around town. Given their lack of luster they should consider a new name for the town. You can actually only enjoy the baths at dawn on weekdays when the crowds are still in bed. At 5am we pool hopped from one Cocoon group to another in avoidance of two persistent hirsute hippies.
The soaking served its purpose after our 60km bike ride from Baños to the jungle town of Puyo. We encountered dozens of waterfalls en route and after about 20km lost all the other tourists who avoided the uphill climbs. Catherine once again proved her adept capacity for high altitude bike climbing. Although no formidable competition I did manage to keep my bum on the bike on hill after hill.
I suppose my self imposed ban on drinking finally paid off.
Check out the teeth on the guinea pig bbq lunch.
Pics of Baños: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4924891_5wtAx#294242028_Wk26G
Pics of Zamora and Parque Podocarpus: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4925151_v7JF2#294262037_BYVB5
April 27, 2008
Newton's Satisfaction
That little black dot in the middle of the picture is Catherine as she contemplates our upcoming ridge walk.
Vilcabamba is the type of place that solidifies our appreciation of the past eight months. I have had a silly grin on my face for the past five days and as I anticipate our morning departure I cannot help but revel in the delight over our pleasurable indulgences.
Having the freedom to travel a year has allowed us to organically enjoy places and people. Unlike the normal one to two week vacation that is highly orchestrated or basically routine, we are lucky enough to happen upon places that would not ordinarily make the cut on a short vacation. Places where the holistic experience is balanced perfectly. The truth is, even without the constraints of time, finding such equilibrium is difficult.
Here in Vilcabamba we have challenged our bodies to astounding hiking along narrow ridges and panoramic peaks. Catherine, my secret hero, overcame her fear of heights and with courage and patience walked along ridges devouring the exhilarating views. We pampered our bodies with meditative massages and yummy food. Each evening we lay in our hammock immersed in reading as the sun baked our bodies before excusing itself behind the mountains. Music and wine and naps and peace.
I arrived with an injured knee and Catherine with an upset stomach. We leave feeling completely revitalized as we head north and the days on our one year dwindle away.
Check out more pics at:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4924992_zgExz#294249553_S724a
Longing for My Bike
I know we have previously bored you with countless stories of buses and bus rides:
The Worst (and The Dirtiest): Machala to Tulcan, Ecuador - 16 hours
The Longest: Ipiales to Bogota, Colombia - 22 hours
The Worst Breakdown: Santa Marta, Colombia to Maracaibo, Venezuela - who knows how long
The Most Crowded: Sucre to Los Frailes, Bolivia (tied for the Most Crowded was EVERY other bus in Bolivia)
Most Ridiculous (tie): Quito to Cuenca, Ecuador - we departed at 10pm for a 10 hour ride and the bus attendant collected tickets at midnight. Loja to Riobamba, Ecuador - we departed at 9:30pm for a 10 hour ride and the bus attendant handed out snacks at 3am!
Most Dangerous: Torotoro to Cochabamba, Bolivia - Kamikaze driver that was likely legally blind and would speed up at turns. We seriously almost flew over a cliff causing the five of us in the van to demand that he stop.
Honestly, buses are the ONE thing that we have not adjusted to. We absolutely loathe buses and the painful rides that leave our bodies aching for days and try our patience to the brink of breakdown. With accommodations and food we have options and control. If a place looks like a dump we leave. If the menu serves the same white rice and cheap cut of beef we leave.
Bus companies though surreptitiously lure you in.
"Does the bus have a toilet?"
"Si, claro que si."
"Is the bus direct?"
"Si, claro que si."
"Is the bus 1st class?"
"Si, claro que si."
The ticket sellers are ALL evil liars. We have stopped asking questions and instead make sure to do a thorough walk on inspection before purchasing tickets (sadly, this is not always possible). This guarantees a clean bus and a decent seat, but that is about it. Nothing can save you from the smelly passengers sure to keep their windows tightly shut or the frequent breakdowns. Let's say all of these things miraculously fall into place, nothing, absolutely nothing can prepare you for the dismally dangerous road conditions coupled with the perilous race car speeding called driving.
In Ecuador we are lucky because bus rides are "short," five to eight hours max. We are horribly unlucky because the buses are horrendous! From Cuenca to Vilcabamba we took a six hour day bus that managed to encompass all the worst - breakdown, stench, cramped, terrible road conditions, blocked bathroom. You name it, we experienced it.
Fortunately, the peace and beauty of Vilcabamba helped us forget the pain within moments of arrival. Our lovely cabana overlooked a lush mountain scape and our hotel spoiled us with massage service, hammocks, a pool, great food and ideal tranquility.
Not even the prospect of the return bus can spoil this.
The Worst (and The Dirtiest): Machala to Tulcan, Ecuador - 16 hours
The Longest: Ipiales to Bogota, Colombia - 22 hours
The Worst Breakdown: Santa Marta, Colombia to Maracaibo, Venezuela - who knows how long
The Most Crowded: Sucre to Los Frailes, Bolivia (tied for the Most Crowded was EVERY other bus in Bolivia)
Most Ridiculous (tie): Quito to Cuenca, Ecuador - we departed at 10pm for a 10 hour ride and the bus attendant collected tickets at midnight. Loja to Riobamba, Ecuador - we departed at 9:30pm for a 10 hour ride and the bus attendant handed out snacks at 3am!
Most Dangerous: Torotoro to Cochabamba, Bolivia - Kamikaze driver that was likely legally blind and would speed up at turns. We seriously almost flew over a cliff causing the five of us in the van to demand that he stop.
Honestly, buses are the ONE thing that we have not adjusted to. We absolutely loathe buses and the painful rides that leave our bodies aching for days and try our patience to the brink of breakdown. With accommodations and food we have options and control. If a place looks like a dump we leave. If the menu serves the same white rice and cheap cut of beef we leave.
Bus companies though surreptitiously lure you in.
"Does the bus have a toilet?"
"Si, claro que si."
"Is the bus direct?"
"Si, claro que si."
"Is the bus 1st class?"
"Si, claro que si."
The ticket sellers are ALL evil liars. We have stopped asking questions and instead make sure to do a thorough walk on inspection before purchasing tickets (sadly, this is not always possible). This guarantees a clean bus and a decent seat, but that is about it. Nothing can save you from the smelly passengers sure to keep their windows tightly shut or the frequent breakdowns. Let's say all of these things miraculously fall into place, nothing, absolutely nothing can prepare you for the dismally dangerous road conditions coupled with the perilous race car speeding called driving.
In Ecuador we are lucky because bus rides are "short," five to eight hours max. We are horribly unlucky because the buses are horrendous! From Cuenca to Vilcabamba we took a six hour day bus that managed to encompass all the worst - breakdown, stench, cramped, terrible road conditions, blocked bathroom. You name it, we experienced it.
Fortunately, the peace and beauty of Vilcabamba helped us forget the pain within moments of arrival. Our lovely cabana overlooked a lush mountain scape and our hotel spoiled us with massage service, hammocks, a pool, great food and ideal tranquility.
Not even the prospect of the return bus can spoil this.
April 2, 2008
Saving the World, One Wolunteer at a Time
Tomorrow we leave the "comforts" of Quito. Catherine managed to convince me to volunteer one month to help protect a cloud forest reserve in Mindo, a town two hours west of Quito. We will volunteer with Milton, an Ecuadorian activist from Mindo that has worked locally for over 20 years. Back in the 80s he organized the community to fight logging companies and they won the right to preserve 20,000 hectares of primary cloud forest in the surrounding area. We do not know our specific assignments but we know they are currently building an information center, clearing hiking trails, cataloging birds (Mindo is Ecuador's birdwatching capital) and building a sustainable eco-village.
What we also just found out is that we will be without electricity during our stay at BioMindo. I was totally game on sharing a tree hut with other volunteers, using a composting outhouse and living in the boonies - but NO electricity?!?! When they told us to bring lanterns I thought it was to illuminate the path to the outhouse, not to illuminate our "room". I know Catherine is secretly rejoicing at our now justifiable 8pm bedtime.* * *
Rustic is something backpackers talk about. It is something they think they know. Until this evening we were those backpackers.
BioMindo IS rustic.
Barbara, BioMindo's German co-founder, walked us up to our tree hut room and suggested that we settle in quickly before it got "too" dark. It was only 6pm and already night had fallen. Although the darkness obscured our vision, we did see the space which we would occupy for the next four weeks - the thatched roof top floor of a basically built bamboo structure. It looked more like an open air tepee than a room that would protect us from the multitude of creatures lurking about and the persistent precipitation of the rainiest month of rainy season. We graciously unloaded our bags and quickly descended hoping for better.
We found Barbara eagerly awaiting us for a brief tour of the village. Composting toilet. Actually a trash bin with a seat attached. After each waste deposit one scoops in some wood chips. Once full, the bin is emptied and replaced by a new one. The waste is composted. Shower. Cold water. Barely any cover. The cooking area. Well, since there is no electricity then there is also no refrigerator. Barbara explained that our meals - breakfast, lunch, and dinner - would mainly consist of white rice and veggies.
Luckily we really liked Barbara and Milton, co-founders of BioMindo. Over dinner they talked to us about their vision of a sustainable eco-village that would be used as a learning model for locals interested in living with minimum impact on the earth. With the conservation of the cloud forest, locals used the tourism industry as a viable economic alternative to the logging they had previously used as a means of subsistence. Unfortunately, people quickly saw the very profitable merits of tourism. Mindo went from having two hotels in 1987 to more than eighty hotels with construction still occurring in every direction. The unregulated surge was expectantly void of education in responsible and sustainable ventures to protect the local culture and biodiversity.
BioMindo's goal is to reverse that trend.
* * *Day 3 here at 7pm and we are in bed after another long yet peaceful day. We wake when the sun rises and the birds compete with song. We go to bed when night falls and the critters begin their night time lullabies. Work has mostly consisted of us jumping in and doing our part no matter how inadequate we are with saws and hammers and other manly tools...hehehe. I seriously do not know how much strain I have put into cutting bamboo with the flimsiest saw ever. Yesterday I thatched my first roof and tomorrow more of the same. Catherine built a shelf for firewood and together we made a basket for timber. Today we hiked along an old trail that next week we will help clear and get ready for hikers. If it needs to get done, we do it. Or at least try.
We have already gotten used to the white rice, cold showers, no electricity and room without walls. It has actually been extremely relaxing and refreshing being here.
* * *Now we have to leave Mindo.
Last night while on a booze run with Jimmy, a fellow volunteer, I twisted my bad ankle and fell. The immediate pain occurred in my ankle but soon after the hurt subsided and I was fine to walk back and enjoy a celebratory dinner and drinks with everyone. Unfortunately, within the hour I felt a throbbing pain in my right knee. By the time I went to bed I could hardly walk. Sleep was impossible as I dealt with the constant pain made worse by any minor movement.This morning instead of going with the others to the cloud forest I stayed in bed immobile. I have been here all day. Only dire desires for the toilet have given me reason to endure the pain and move out of bed.
The situation is quite demoralizing. This intense pain leads me to believe that I hurt my knee very badly. The possibility that this trip may be cut short is even more agonizing than the knee.* * *
Today I visited a curandera. She looked at my knee and with a few swift moves popped it into "place." Through my grimaces of pain she deeply massaged my knee. Every time my meditation failed and I complained of pain she continued her rubbing telling me she was working it out.
I have no idea what she did but the pain has slightly subsided and my range of motion has improved dramatically. I left the hut practically carried to the truck and returned walking on my own. Maybe the trick was in the strange purple reddish liquid she applied to my knee with a feather before I left.
At least now I will be able to endure a bus ride to Quito to get "real" medical attention.
* * *
$200 and many desperate phone calls later, my very competent Johns Hopkins educated orthopedist confirmed NO major damage. I practically fell over myself getting home to share the news with Catherine. I had prepared myself for the worse but luckily with rest and physical therapy I will recover in a few weeks. RELIEF!
* * *
By the time we left Mindo we were actually sad to leave the peace we enjoyed for several weeks. The stability of staying in one place and not having to pack and move on every few days was also quite refreshing. Even the German couple we cursed at first for cramping our space turned out to be super chill. Dreadlocked Biggie could not stand getting dirty and her photographer boyfriend Marko was a dedicated hoot. One evening he spent hours trying to photograph frogs but returned covered in bug bites and with only one frog shot. We liked them.
We very quickly adjusted to life at the eco-village. 8pm bedtime was rejuvenating. 6am wakeup...well, one cannot complain after ten solid hours of sleep each night. Barbara proved to be an extremely creative cook. Super Babs is seriously BioMindo's superhero - she can do it all. The cold showers were exactly what our bodies needed after long days of work in the sun. The composting toilet actually makes a lot of sense. It is super clean and odor free and most importantly extremely friendly to the environment. No electricity just meant that no one ever forgot to shut the lights off.
The coolest thing about Mindo was the sublime nature. The place was simply spectacular. Over 500 species of birds. You may not realize what that means but after just one hour of birdwatching I spotted an exhilarating diversity of birds in all colors and sizes. I loved it so much I even awoke at dawn one morning and sat on a stool checking out birds for hours. And the insects were just something out of this world. Nathan would have been in bug heaven checking out the array of colors and sizes.
Mindo was exactly what we had been looking for. Like spoiled Americans we did complain but like seasoned travelers we appreciated the experience.
Check out our pics at:
http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4619936_Lc8nt#272884123_v8WzY
April 1, 2008
Too Lazy for Quito
We have finally made it to Ecuador. Tons to say but pictures will surely tell the tale.
Pics of:
Pics of:
March 30, 2008
TierraMágica
"You must find Fabian and Ana Luisa. They will be sure to help you."We had no intention to venture far from Colombia's beaten path for the same reason most tourists do not even bother visiting Colombia - fear. People imagine being caught in the crossfire of FARC guerillas and government friendly paramilitaries. Hijacked buses, "terrorism", and ransom kidnappings are all possible in Colombia. Yes, stories that may revive a blog but certainly not ideal for a fruitful backpacking journey.
After three months enjoying genuine hospitality from Colombians and catching their love of "their pueblo", I convinced Catherine to bear yet another excruciating journey. For her, excruciating because it involved long buseta rides on dirt roads, and worse yet, it involved visiting ruins. After the grandeur of Machu Picchu I just cannot convince her to overcome her ruin elitism and visit (with appreciation) "piles of rubble."
We decided to visit the jungle interior towns of San Agustin and Tierradentro. In San Agustin we saw hundreds of varied stone carvings 3 to 7m tall. In Tierradentro I fell in love with the best of Colombia. The people and the peace of the small town of San Andres de Pimbala were divinely magical.
Our pictures of:
February 26, 2008
Los Mojados
We met our excited guide Daniel on Wednesday afternoon and within minutes his charm and knowledge convinced us that we were totally game for a Thursday 6am departure to Parque Ucumari and an intense eight hour uphill hike from 1850m to our campsite at La Laguna de Otun at 4000m in Parque Nacional Los Nevados. After two relaxed months in Colombia we were psyched to gather our gear and venture out into nature. Little did we know that the goddess had different plans for us.
By 8am when we commenced our hike from La Cedral the rain had already started to trickle. GoreTex, ponchos, fast drying synthetic fibers, SmartWool - we were two well prepared hikers intent on staying dry. Within the hour we were two soaked hikers with very expensive gear. The previous day when Daniel explained that we would walk along a river basin, a cuenca, I assumed we would walk along side it not actually through it. As the rain pounded us we had to make our way up the rocky river basin as ankle deep water gushed down. Breaks in the water only meant we had to deal with slippery rocks protruding from the ground and messy mud banks.
For over an hour I gingerly stepped from one slightly emerged rock to another diligently determined to avoid wetting my feet. Catherine and Daniel trekked 20m in front of me and I attributed their speed to their longer strides and lean fit frames. I lumbered on until Catherine turned around to wait for me and noticed my deliberate steps.
"Are your shoes still dry?" with an intended hint of disdain.
I proudly responded, "Yes, indeed they are."
"You must be kidding me! We do not have time for dry feet! Pick up the pace!"
Within minutes I reluctantly dipped my feet in the gushing stream of cold water. Soon after mud. My pace improved but my morale was never quite the same.
After two hours of walking we reached a river too high to cross on foot. A week´s worth of persistent rain swelled the river and mightily washed away the footbridge. Luckily, Daniel's (girl)friend Ana was trailing us on horseback and we were able to cross the river one at a time on the poor horse. After our river crossing and with the rain still pounding us, Daniel suggested that the conditions were not in our favor and that we should consider alternative options because he did not think that we would make it to the laguna. It was already 10:30am and he anticipated another eight to nine hours of uphill hiking at our precarious pace. He suggested that we stay at the Pastora which we had just reached and that he would hike up to the laguna to meet up with Ana who was on horseback.
Insistent on making it, Catherine firmly instructed me to pick up the pace and she practically started sprinting up the cuenca. She suspected that Daniel wanted to ditch us to have a romantic rendezvous with Ana at the laguna. I was not happy about a change of plans either, but I seriously doubted that he was conjuring sexy ideas for a night at 4 Celsius at 4000m. Nonetheless, I found myself feebly explaining to Daniel that we would hike on and then foolishly trying to keep Catherine's alpha pace uphill.
"Come on Joc, faster!"
Unfortunately, within 30 minutes I knew that I would not make it to the laguna. I was beat and we still had 8 hours to go. Uphill. Wet. Cold.
"Pick up the pace!"
As Catherine scolded my slowness I reticently refrained knowing that she too would succumb to fatigue and the elements. Catherine is a kick ass hiker in tremendous shape but the conditions were totally demoralizing.
"Joc, I think we'll have to admit that we won't get to the laguna."
"Really? You're probably right," I innocently countered.
Luckily, Daniel suggested his most promising idea: we would hike another 5 hours uphill to a finca owned by local farmers he knew, stay the night, and in the morning we would get up at 5am and hike the final 2 hours uphill to the laguna. All on board, we trekked on.
Those 5 hours kicked our ass. The last 800m alone took us 30 minutes as we labored through steep and slippery mounds of mud. Each step uphill exposed us to the chilly cold of higher elevation. I am surprised I did not break down in tears of defeat because my body ached immensely. I lost circulation in my hands and when we finally made it to the finca, Botero would have appreciated the pudgy red stubs on my hands.
Laura and Juan Camilo, 5 year old twin ambassadors of the finca family greeted us with huge smiles and curious delight. We quickly peeled off the soaked gear and layered on every other piece of clothing we packed. Immediately we were graciously offered aguapanela (a hot water drink flavored with a type of molasses), homemade cheese (which they made on the farm each day and sold at the market in town), coffee and much desire seating next to the stove that doubles as the family heater.
Amidst the poverty and simplicity of the finca, the family's warmth and love towards one another was obvious. We shared stories about the US, Colombia, life in the city, life on a farm. In keeping with finca routine we were all in bed by 7pm.
Sans discussion, we all clearly understood that there would be no 5am walk to the laguna.
We awoke to gorgeous blue skies that revealed beautifully lush green mountains around us.
The blue sky debut was short lived. After a joyful morning of kid games with Juan Camilo and Laura, we started our 10am return hike in down pour mightier than the previous day. Our pained bodies did not make it down until 5pm. The only true motivation was the warm shower and warm bed awaiting us in the hotel.
Unfortunate for us, rainy season has arrived.
More pictures at -
Medellin: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4412998_i5GWw#259253579
Parque Ucumari: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4413116_frWpA#259258407
Salento: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4417463_ybYrc#259543902
El Mercado de Silvia: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4417589_MK5Uq#259550410
By 8am when we commenced our hike from La Cedral the rain had already started to trickle. GoreTex, ponchos, fast drying synthetic fibers, SmartWool - we were two well prepared hikers intent on staying dry. Within the hour we were two soaked hikers with very expensive gear. The previous day when Daniel explained that we would walk along a river basin, a cuenca, I assumed we would walk along side it not actually through it. As the rain pounded us we had to make our way up the rocky river basin as ankle deep water gushed down. Breaks in the water only meant we had to deal with slippery rocks protruding from the ground and messy mud banks.
For over an hour I gingerly stepped from one slightly emerged rock to another diligently determined to avoid wetting my feet. Catherine and Daniel trekked 20m in front of me and I attributed their speed to their longer strides and lean fit frames. I lumbered on until Catherine turned around to wait for me and noticed my deliberate steps.
"Are your shoes still dry?" with an intended hint of disdain.
I proudly responded, "Yes, indeed they are."
"You must be kidding me! We do not have time for dry feet! Pick up the pace!"
Within minutes I reluctantly dipped my feet in the gushing stream of cold water. Soon after mud. My pace improved but my morale was never quite the same.
After two hours of walking we reached a river too high to cross on foot. A week´s worth of persistent rain swelled the river and mightily washed away the footbridge. Luckily, Daniel's (girl)friend Ana was trailing us on horseback and we were able to cross the river one at a time on the poor horse. After our river crossing and with the rain still pounding us, Daniel suggested that the conditions were not in our favor and that we should consider alternative options because he did not think that we would make it to the laguna. It was already 10:30am and he anticipated another eight to nine hours of uphill hiking at our precarious pace. He suggested that we stay at the Pastora which we had just reached and that he would hike up to the laguna to meet up with Ana who was on horseback.
Insistent on making it, Catherine firmly instructed me to pick up the pace and she practically started sprinting up the cuenca. She suspected that Daniel wanted to ditch us to have a romantic rendezvous with Ana at the laguna. I was not happy about a change of plans either, but I seriously doubted that he was conjuring sexy ideas for a night at 4 Celsius at 4000m. Nonetheless, I found myself feebly explaining to Daniel that we would hike on and then foolishly trying to keep Catherine's alpha pace uphill.
"Come on Joc, faster!"
Unfortunately, within 30 minutes I knew that I would not make it to the laguna. I was beat and we still had 8 hours to go. Uphill. Wet. Cold.
"Pick up the pace!"
As Catherine scolded my slowness I reticently refrained knowing that she too would succumb to fatigue and the elements. Catherine is a kick ass hiker in tremendous shape but the conditions were totally demoralizing.
"Joc, I think we'll have to admit that we won't get to the laguna."
"Really? You're probably right," I innocently countered.
Luckily, Daniel suggested his most promising idea: we would hike another 5 hours uphill to a finca owned by local farmers he knew, stay the night, and in the morning we would get up at 5am and hike the final 2 hours uphill to the laguna. All on board, we trekked on.
Those 5 hours kicked our ass. The last 800m alone took us 30 minutes as we labored through steep and slippery mounds of mud. Each step uphill exposed us to the chilly cold of higher elevation. I am surprised I did not break down in tears of defeat because my body ached immensely. I lost circulation in my hands and when we finally made it to the finca, Botero would have appreciated the pudgy red stubs on my hands.
Laura and Juan Camilo, 5 year old twin ambassadors of the finca family greeted us with huge smiles and curious delight. We quickly peeled off the soaked gear and layered on every other piece of clothing we packed. Immediately we were graciously offered aguapanela (a hot water drink flavored with a type of molasses), homemade cheese (which they made on the farm each day and sold at the market in town), coffee and much desire seating next to the stove that doubles as the family heater.
Amidst the poverty and simplicity of the finca, the family's warmth and love towards one another was obvious. We shared stories about the US, Colombia, life in the city, life on a farm. In keeping with finca routine we were all in bed by 7pm.
Sans discussion, we all clearly understood that there would be no 5am walk to the laguna.
We awoke to gorgeous blue skies that revealed beautifully lush green mountains around us.
The blue sky debut was short lived. After a joyful morning of kid games with Juan Camilo and Laura, we started our 10am return hike in down pour mightier than the previous day. Our pained bodies did not make it down until 5pm. The only true motivation was the warm shower and warm bed awaiting us in the hotel.
Unfortunate for us, rainy season has arrived.
More pictures at -
Medellin: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4412998_i5GWw#259253579
Parque Ucumari: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4413116_frWpA#259258407
Salento: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4417463_ybYrc#259543902
El Mercado de Silvia: http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4417589_MK5Uq#259550410
February 15, 2008
What is the root out of here?
Again, we invaded the Rees family. A month after our initial departure we showed up with a pack of dirty clothes and major tooth problems.
In mid December when we first arrived in Bogota, Catherine visited a dentist that filled a cavity that had caused her persistent pain for weeks. Unfortunately, two months later the pain had returned with even more intensity. Efrain and Carl left early Friday morning on 2/8 and hence started our week long affair with Drs. Gamboa and Vera. On Friday afternoon they both confirmed that a root canal was needed and one was scheduled for Monday afternoon.
Our possible one night at Liz and Matt's quickly became a minimum of four nights.
On Monday afternoon, Dr. Vera started the root canal with a clamp, a clockwork orange mouth opening contraption, and a dental dam. All officially necessary equipment. I was allowed to sit through the procedure that after an hour went painfully awry. Catherine had an unexpected shooting pain in her head and a stressed out Dr. Vera postponed the rest of the procedure until Wednesday.
Now, at least six nights.
Tuesday we took a dental break and wondered if dentists had worked on the wrong molar. Wednesday we returned for a smooth end to the root canal after "confirmation" that they had in fact worked on the correct molar. Wednesday night while having an chunk of one of my molars fell off. The dental fun was not to be monopolized by Catherine.
Seven nights.
Thursday, Dr. Gamboa sealed up Catherine's root canal and fixed my newly discovered cavity. Lots of time but less than $300 later our dental problems were gone. Within 24 hours we finally bid farewell to the Rees family and Bogota.
Unfortunately, molar pain for a certain patient continues and we anticipate that in fact the wrong molar was treated to a root canal.
February 9, 2008
Top Models Hit Colombia
Giddy up.
Group shot.
Chango!
Spelunking.
Top Model Carl.
El Paseo del Angel.
Parque 93.
Villa de Leyva.
The Village Boys.Bogota was not prepared for two old-soul NYC queens. Catherine and I were hardly prepared.
We found a sweet deal for accommodations - a modern apartment with ample space and amenities within walking distance to La Candelaria and shops. Satisfied? It took prodding to admit satisfaction.
The boys arrived, freshened up, and off we were. Karaoke at Brokeback Mountain found us in a shady gay neighborhood and with singing setups we were unaccustomed to. We (well, actually Carl) managed a rendition of "Like a Bird" that quickly cleared the bar.
We visited some other late night establishments that proved victorious over our simpleton East Coast sensibilities. Naughty "dancers" and even naughtier Colombians of the fluid persuasion sent us home in the wee hours yearning for domesticity.
We climbed a "mountain" on Sunday with throngs of Colombians making it up to church service at Montserrat. We were enthused about a Sunday evening outing (since we crashed by 8pm on Saturday) but Bogota´s throngs of youthful revelers apparently rest with the lord. Proud products of globalization, we watched the Super Bowl while downing beers and burgers. Carl was unamused.
Villa de Leyva found the boys rappelling into caves, getting their shoes dirty with a little spelunking, climbing trees, riding horses (in fabulous clothing choices), and swimming chango in piercing blue waters. Efrain I knew had it in him, but Carl surprised us. We still don´t know if it was the Monty emerging or a desire to take the best photo.
We are now ready for the next visitors.
Check out more pictures at: http://www.juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/4331846_vMCLY#254083037
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