1. Being Dirty: Yes, wearing the same clothes for several days consecutively IS less acceptable.
2. What Happened to Freedom?: Life isn’t a 593 day weekend.  And people actually expect diligent work Monday through Friday.  It makes the weekend take on an entirely different meaning.  When was the last time I was dying for Friday?
3. Coffee: while I was in regions both abundant and renown for their coffee, I lived in a world of the “hot water/granulated stir-in.”  Note: That great Colombian coffee is enjoyed by US.  The third class beans and the dissolvable crystals serve the Colombians. Strangely, I really miss the ease and culture of instant coffee.  With all that said, the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru is unsettlingly, awesome.
4. Estranged: Meeting people becomes much more difficult.  The backpacking atmosphere is filled with strangers who want to know you.  How is it that you can feel lonely in a city of millions upon millions?  How is it that a familiar city can feel so unfamiliar?
5. Beer: Quantity – disappointed.  What happened to liter beers?  Economy – Why are beers not $1?  Quality – It’s great to be home.
6. Food: Cheap! Quality? The Argentinian steak was lovely and the ease of empanadas on every corner, very lovely.  Produce: If you can stomach a market clouded with flies and the smell of meat slowly rotting in the heat, you’ll find fantastic things. It’s risky for the unseasoned GI system, but offers rewards if you survive.  However, the ‘menu al dia’ eaten everyday over several months is tiresome…and then there’s the heartburn.  US Eating: yes, the portions are large.  And it isn’t quite the value of the daily menu, but we have really fantastic food.
7. Work: Work Doesn’t = Life! The novelty of the siesta has vanished.  And I hang around an office and do “grown up working things” when I really wish I were giving monkey baths or serving Fernet and Cola.  But this entire idea is too weighted for further discussion at present and deserves its own entry.
8. Accessibility: I do enjoy the ease of life at home, with a little uneasiness.  All of my wants, needs and cravings are easily satisfied. Mexican? Booze? Groceries? Sushi? That amazing deep dish pizza?  Not only available but delivered to your home!  With that said, there’s something even more satisfying about craving that one thing that you can’t quite find, the search, the patience, and finally the joy.  When all we want is at our fingertips, do we appreciate it less?
9. Peanut Butter: On par with the last item of discussion – what happened to all the peanut butter south of the equator?  Don’t believe there is a single jar.  And I don’t think I even thought of crunchy JIF until it was unavailable.  Oddly, I went grocery shopping last week and standing in front of 40 styles and brands of PB just made me anxious and I left peanut butter-less.
10. Bargaining: Not good at it, but I improved with time and practice.  They don’t do that here.
11. Health Care: Could also be an entry in and of itself.  But $450. for a prescription in the US?  And $2,500 for a Peruvian appendectomy? (very aesthetically pleasing closure and no complications, incidentally)  There is the ‘quality of care’ argument’ but surely both sides have ways in wish they could improve.
12. Sport: Where’s the footie?  I’ve become so absorbed in soccer that I could only name 2 to 3 players on the Red Sox line-up when I got home.  Why don’t we love futbol like the rest of the world?
13. Sleeping Arrangements: I can safely say that I do not miss the dorm.  Tiptoeing to the top bunk, in the dark, and then realizing that your lips are dry and burning but your chap stick is on the floor.  The 5am drunk chick.  Inappropriate sexual activity and/or masturbators.  Bed bugs.  And the worst: that snoring guy.
14. Vanity: I slowly started “accessorizing” again.  Bracelets, rings, mascara, lip gloss, toe nail polish.  And I really like it!  Unfortunately, I still look shabby compared with your average person walking down the street, but I feel amazing!  Unfortunately, I lost my tan 3 weeks ago, after 593 amazing days of glow.  What happened to the perpetual summer?

So…as perpetual summer fades into my first autumn in a while, my backpack into a suitcase, and soccer into American football, I’m trying to enjoy the things I haven’t experienced in a while, and not consume myself with the places I’d rather be or simplicities I’d rather have.  Some days are easier than others; some days I crave the feeling of being out of my skin, and others I’m so relieved to not have eleven snoring, masturbating, drunk people in my room.  I guess it’s best to look forward from here.  So here’s to plentiful peanut butter, drive-thru Dunks, and large fantastic meals.  Viva America!

With South America whisked away, I made my first true trip home after 15 months (this excludes the tumultuous 23 hour Atlanta lay-over the previous September).  As days turn into months, living a perpetual summer, without note of public holidays or work weeks, it’s surprisingly easy to forget that life moves on at home and in other corners of the world.  The updates and the excited news via email or skype are somehow intangible.  Not that you shrug it off, but it’s surreal – it’s difficult to process.

My sister’s pregnancy began not long after her visit to Ecuador.  I didn’t really “get it” until I opened an email 6 months later with a 20-week ultrasound, and a side-profile of a chick with boobs who strikingly resembled my sister.  (My sister never had boobs!)

Though Amanda would never pressure or make me feel guilty for my absence, I had missed one of the biggest and most exciting times of her life.  And all those months away suddenly seemed like a long time.

So I planned an immediate re-route…to Midlothian, Virginia – 8 days post due-date.

Meeting Parker

It was a wonderful experience.  To see the transformation as my sister became a mother, and a couple become a family.  At the risk of sounding horrible, I didn’t know how I was going to feel about having a stranger in the house.  But yes, I did immediately fall in love and it was actually impossible to look at him and even consider selfishness.  My stories seemed less important, even though Amanda would have given her last ounce of energy trying to listen.  Parker is a sweet, content boy, has a smile that lights the room and a cry rarely heard.  And my sister is an outstanding mother, she trouble shoots with humor, is light hearted and graceful.

My post-Patagonia Parker stop was a humbling visit, and in many ways took me away from myself.  I used this homecoming as an opportunity to be the audience.  And the rewards were amazing.

Patagonia is in every way and form, pristine: the air, the land, the towering mountains, and drinkable glacial waters.  I passed several weeks trekking the Fitz Roy mountain range, visiting the stunning Perito Moreno glacier in El Calafate, biking the perimeter of the lakes of Bariloche, and the magical wooden sculpting of El Bolson.

The Interior

Every busy mind needs the soul food of southern Argentina.  And when you get into the quieter regions you can truly feel the pulse of the people.  They’re inquisitive, open, warm, enthusiastic and eager to know.  Without any scientific basis I award “Most Friendly South American Country” to the Argies, for two reasons: the economy, and mate.

The Economy

Many South American countries are relying more and more on tourism for economic stability; Ecuador has become a commonly traveled country and with the growing prominence and popularity of Machu Picchu, Peru has become inundated with tourists.  As a result, the experience has become much more commercial and often less authentic.  Unfortunately, locals tend to have more interest in a wallet than a person.  Argentina, though touristy as well, benefits from greater economic stability than some of its South American counterparts, and as a result, there is less financial incentive in befriending visitors.

The Tea that United a Nation

The entire country is completely enchanted by this bitter yet lovely tea.  It’s a morning, noon and evening staple.  Argentines buy, travel, share and drink the beautiful “yerba” by the pounds and nothing is more uniting.  Shared in elaborate cups, with metal straws called bombillas, it’s designed to drink in groups.  The ritual is deeply ingrained; whether stranger or friend, on the street or at home, Argentines are eager to share, to chat, and to learn.

15 Months in Central and South American – Come and Gone

It was a perfect ending to an epic trip of the “other Americas” – with time to reflect on a year well spent, lessons learned, languages discovered, moments of discomfort, but many more, awe.

No sight that human eyes can look upon is more provocative of awe than is the night sky scattered thick with stars. -Llewelyn Powys

So with all the creative strength I can muster, I will start a 10-blog series,  The February – Present Day recount of all things “Abbey.”  I’ll post this in digestible chunks, short anecdotes, and with any luck, at more appropriate intervals.  So if you’ve tuned out, please give me one more chance!  I’ll try to keep it a little bit spicy, intriguing and thoughtful. 

Tell your friends to resubscribe! xx

We shall not cease from exploration!  And at the end of all our exploring, will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.  -TS Elliot

Visa? No.  Experience? No. Spanish? Mas o menos.  Hired.  The under the table pay is standard in the industry, which worked in my favor.  The rest I improvised.  I’m notorious for a badly poured beer but eventually managed a passable pint.  The drinks were inconsistent and sloppy, at best, but I realized that if you make them with conviction, the clientele are more likely to find you credible.  They drank them anyhow.

Stamina

The Argentine have stamina.  I´ve seen more sunrises in Buenos Aires than sunsets.  And the bleary eyed introduction to the morning is abrupt, and often painful.  Amazingly, many take a short sleep for 1 to 2 hours and then go to work, while I sleep most of the day and still wake up disoriented.  Our closing time is their happy hour, their closing time our brunch.  We gently coerce the clientele toward the door at 8:30am, still cracking liter beers until 8:20am.

Public Displays of Affection (PDA)

It´s full on.  While some cultures consider PDA distasteful, Argentines love to express just how they feel, and with zest.  Romance escalates quickly – cheek kisses, to open mouth, tongues splaying, heavy petting, to attempting horizontal positioning in booths.  And those aren´t even the drunk ones.

Managing the drunk Argentinean Man

The men are very forthright, expressive, anxious to throw all their cards on the table.  And in a noisy bar with broken Spanish, I´ve encountered my share of awkward moments.  Some typical situations and funny dialogues:

¨The solo drinker hits on the bar maid¨

I try to appear occupied but with a limited range behind the bar it´s inevitable.  We start with the standard questions: ¨What´s your name?¨, ¨Where are you from?¨, ¨Do you have a boyfriend?¨, ¨Where is he?¨ Afterwards the drinker continues to demand your attention, calling you over to inquire further.  ¨Abbey! Ven! (Come!)…no closer! ¨

¨You´re beautiful.¨ ¨I love Americanas.¨ ¨I keep thinking about your lips on mine.¨ ¨What are my chances?..No, a percentage.¨ ¨I don´t want to make sex with you, I just want you to come to my apartment so we can kiss.¨ ¨Do you want to go to Ibiza with me? ¨ ¨Porque no? ¨

Unfortunately, these situations end poorly with a sulky walk out the door, or my favorite comment, ¨You´ve broken my heart.¨ Occasionally they get the last ¨word¨ in when the customary cheek kiss turns into a rapid head twist and a forceful tongue down the throat.  Gross. 

Last Call

With my time in Buenos Aires coming to a close, I´ll admit that I´m worn out, several pounds heavier on account of too many pints, and anxious to enjoy my days again.  With that said, I invite and encourage you all to experience the city and enjoy all that it offers: cheer at a futbol match, visit the eclectic neighborhoods, meet a passionate Argentine, and consume until morning.  Oh, and don´t forget to tip the staff.

Closing time, open all the doors and let you out into the world. – Semisonic

Bolivia boasts some of the highest South American attractions, the majority above 3,500 meters.  After discovering my natural distaste for altitude, and paying an exorbitant amount for a tourist visa, I decided to find a cozy haven at sea level for an extended stay.  I´d heard about Inti Wara Yassi (IWY) from other travelers on my way south and after little deliberation or planning, I grabbed a van to Villa Tunari and into the world of Parque Machia and the Bolivian jungle.

IWY - Parque Machia

The park is located on the edge of the amazon basin, along the only major highway connecting Cochabamba and Santa Cruz.  The land allocated for the park is far beyond capacity and slowly disappearing due to erosion.  Government owned, the park is under imminent threat, as plans are solidified to build a road through the remaining land as a means to decrease coca trafficking.  And amidst it all, hundreds of animals try to survive the mayhem.

A Look Inside Parque Machia: The Negros (Spider Monkeys)

The park is a refuge for many indigenous animals: monkeys, pumas, a spectacle bear, ocelots, birds, and turtles.  For consistency, each volunteer is assigned a section of the park for the duration of their stay.  And so I landed among 29 spider monkeys (collectively referred to as ¨The Negros¨).  The long days were monotonous at first – preparing meals, feeding, cleaning, walking the corded monkeys, and trying to steer clear of monkey bites (yes, they bite!).  Most of the spider monkeys are rescued from homes, markets (where they´re sold illegally), hotels, and circuses, and given their dysfunctional backgrounds, they collectively form a dysfunctional group.  Some commonly attack other monkeys within the group, wild monkeys constantly threaten the park´s monkeys and volunteers typically find themselves with a sling shot (literally), somewhere in the middle.  At first, 29 black monkeys all look the same and their unpredictability is quite daunting.  Over time, you begin to recognize faces, you learn their stories, become more confident, and the experience transforms.  Dona has almond shaped eyes.  Iggy was a circus monkey.  Ramona, despite being anti-social, is quite maternal.  And Negra loves beets and an afternoon foot bath in the water bowl.

Living and Working in Parque Machia

Where do you find the motivation to trudge through the fourth 11 hour day of torrential rains, in the same set of clothes that never completely dry?  Or the smell of monkey urine and poo that never leaves your clothes and inevitably invades your room and bed?  The moldy film that coats all of your belongings and wet feet that slowly rot over 30 consecutive days in rubber boots?  You discover new emotional and physical boundaries, certainly.  And there are 50 other volunteers who share your scabs, parasites, war wounds, and fatigue.  Beyond that, they also share your passion and enthusiasm.

For every moment of pessimism – the horrendous morning when you can´t get out of bed, when one too many sand flies attack, or you can´t bear to think about cleaning another dirty cage – there are equally numerous occasions that amaze, make you fall in love, and make it really hard to leave.  Unfortunately, this entry covers only a mere portion of the experience.  The pure volume of stories could eventually bore the most patient of listeners (and has!).

A month later, I still hear their voices echo in the strangest places, picture their faces in my mind, and their graceful bounce through the trees.  And I thank them, and all of the wonderful people I´ve met, for letting me into their world.

From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere. -Dr. Seuss

Overland touring comes in all shapes and sizes, colors, and often malfunctions.  It makes traveling all the more edgy.  Central America sports the yellow school bus, or ¨chicken bus¨ as most refer to it.  Luckily, most Central American journeys are 6 hours or less.  South America lends itself to much longer trips.  However, most buses are pretty impressive and have seats with adequate leg room, good reclining properties, and en suite toilets.  Some even meals and full beds!  Despite these commodities, a long bus ride is exactly that…long.

One major discrepancy from buses I´ve riden at home is the entertainment.  While an early evening movie (even if it´s in spanish, which is still challenging to follow) is appropriate, a 3am movie or latino music video marathon at an unreasonable volume, are not.

¨Latin American Time¨

98% of buses pull away from the gates at the exact departure time.  Brilliant!  However, arrivals vary anywhere from 2 hours early to 5 hours late.

Early Arrivals

Early arrivals are usually due to unruly operators, typically driving buses at hazardous speeds, often on winding mountain roads, while passing on blind turns.  My last 24 hour bus from Lima to Cusco was clipped by another bus coming around a corner, shattering all the windows on the left side of the bus!  Aside from scaring the sh*t out of half the passengers (mainly the sound of the breaking glass) and the haphazard plywood repair on the road side which made the remainder of the ride VERY chilly, the incident was minor and of little consequence.

Late Arrivals

One of several things can happen and these are typically not traffic related.  The ´direct bus´is notorious for making 15 to 20 stops – picking up passengers on the road side, police stops which sometimes include everyone getting off the bus, maybe searched and maybe not, drug sniffing dogs, and men with large semi-automatic weapons.  They have designated stops where vendors push all kinds of fried snack, sweet, or new herbal remedy, or 30 minute middle of the night stops at isolated rest stops where you can enjoy a menu al día and toilet (if the en suite toilet is absent).

The ¨en suite toilet¨

These are reserved for urinating only (and typically only for the damas).  Take your additional business elsewhere.  What confuses me are the on-board vomiters.  For children, vomiting is usually unexpected.  Ok.  But the motion-sick adult?  My Cali, Colombia to Quito, Ecuador trip was foul.  The vomiters were directly in front AND behind me, and the vomiting lasted for 5 hours throughout the night.  The next leg to Peru proved worse as my seat mate vomited on herself, the floor, in my shoe, on my backpack, and promptly went back to sleep.  Take it to the en suite toilet!  (or at least use a bag…)

The Night Bus

It´s truly the best option.  It saves a night´s accommodation and you can sleep through the majority of it (aside from the aforementioned annoyances…frequent stops, local entertainment, vomiters, etc.)  Some warn of the additional nighttime dangers including theft, bus raids, and sleepy drivers, but as long as you keep your backpack close and your wit sharp, your typically okay.  The rest is out of our hands.

The bus experience is not to be missed (and hard to avoid).  It adds a special dynamic to travel and makes for some great storytelling.  With that said, glad the marathon trip has come to pass, happy to be stationary for the time being, and am now enjoying the mountain view from the comfort of a hammock.  Signing off…

-And for all of you others who´ve had similar stories or find bits that I´ve neglected…please share!

PANAMA

Most: American Retirees (complete with orthopedic shoes and fanny packs) and food chains; oh, and RAIN!

Best: School Buses - Panama wins the creativity/most artistic school bus award!

Meanest: Coral (I destroyed the top of my foot on a reef!  Pretty snorkel though…)

And the Panama Canal!

COSTA RICA

Most: expensive! (only a 4 day stay…)

Worst: view of a volcano (weather strikes again)

Notables: Xtreme canopy ziplining! Complete with Tarzan swing!

NICARAGUA

Best: Activities!  Cock fighting in Leon (a must see Sunday afternoon activity); tobogganing down Volcano Cerro Negro at 45km/h, and the Bull Run stands alone (see previous blog); and I almost forgot the rum!

Worst: Men (beware of Matagalpa…gross); Journey (8 hour boat ride to the Corn Islands.  Seating: 1 sq. foot of rice sack, stuck between nasty foul mouthed Nicaraguan women, 12 pigs, 1 bull, various bits of cargo, animal waste, and vomit…AFTER, a night’s accommodation in a brothel.)

Cheapest: Mango! 5 cordobas for 3! 25 cents!

Notables: Snorkeling with nurse sharks and eagle rays on the Corn Islands (worth the horrible journey); Surfing in San Juan del Sur!

HONDURAS

Most: Friendly, sand fly bites (they´re sneaky and ruthless!)

Best: Beach Party! (Flor de Cana, the infamous Nicaraguan rum, and cervezas while laying in the crystal blue mar – what´s better?)

First: Coup (With President Zelaya wandering around Nicaragua looking for a bus back home, political tension was higher than normal.  Missed most of the rioting, protests, and the curfew fortunately!)

Notables: World Cup Qualifier between Honduras and Trinidad!  Go Honduras!; After a minor anxiety attack under water, I learned how to dive! (and saw a moray eel and barracuda which frightened me a little.); the Copan Ruins (a lot of old stone, but beautiful.)

A final best: the company.  The stories, whether amazing or uncomfortable, scary or stunning, are always best when shared.  I owe much of my experiences to the free-spirited, generous and warm hearted people who I´ve had beside me.

And now…back to South America.  More countries to see, more bests and worsts to be had.  Until the next update…xxx.

I said in my heart, “I am sick of four walls and a ceiling.  I have a need of the sky.  I have business with the grass.” -Richard Hovey

After months of travel and a wide expanse of landscapes and experiences, some of the ordinary tourist/backpacker attractions begin to lack luster.  I find myself seeking a bigger mountain, a bluer sea, whiter sand – searching for the thing that defines a place, etches it in your memory.

The 2009 Tour de Toros

By pure chance, I was in town for the annual Bull Run.  Some backpackers heard news of the festivities and word spread through several hostels, generating a sizable gringo turn-out.  The mankini (see previous blog and/or www.internationalmankinichallenge.com)  almost reared its ugly head but another traveler wearing a far more modest lion costume was quickly reprimanded by the Nicaraguan police, rendering the photo shoot a far too risky endeavor.  We also quickly gathered that this wasn’t an ordinary 5K fun-run, but a much more raw untouched part of Nicaraguan culture.

The Bull Run, most popular and infamous in Pamploma, Spain, is an event in which several bulls are unleashed into the city streets.  The streets are gated as a safety precaution, prohibiting spectators from entering the streets.  In Granada, the experience was much different.  At 3pm, expectantly, large cattle trucks opened their gates, releasing bulls into the unprotected city streets.   Men on horseback swarmed the bulls, tethering them, only to then re-release them into the masses of spectators – women, kids, elderly who all lined the walkways.

Onlookers drank beers and cheered, kids filled the trees  overlooking the streets.  Curiosity enthralled us, but within seconds the bulls tore into groups of people, sending stampedes into shops and nearby alleys.

Young strong-headed men swung flags, whipping the animals, agitating them.  And the carnage was unreal.  Men were pinned, thrown into the air, mauled.  Ambulances inched through the masses carrying off wounded while others were carried out, four men clutching the limbs of limp, bleeding men.  A horse was gorged by a swinging bull horn, gushing onto the pavement.

A Solemn Aftermath

The run lasted about 3 hours and many of the backpackers reassembled in the main plaza at its finale, wide-eyed, blank faced.  We recounted chilling stories that evening, safely among 4 walls, over cervezas and sleepiness.  4 dead, 5 wounded.  An afternoon of adrenaline, excitement and fear.  And a tale of Granada, Nicaragua – uncut.

1. I now surf!

After some botched attempts prior to South America, I suspected that I might not take to it – a girl in boardies without any natural affinity for the water.  But alas, after lessons in Máncora and Montañita, Ecuador, I finally dropped the training wheels, and caught my first real waves in Canoa, Ecuador!  (Look for me in the circuit)

2. A typical South American Dialogue (just for giggles)

I´m on a 20 person boat across a small channel in Ecuador, which is over capacity.  A man in his 60´s boards, and finds me.  He has a scar through his left eyelid, which he doesn´t open, and peers through his right cataract.  He has a bound rooster under his arm.  Oh, and a wooden leg.  The boat is silent except for this conversation:

What´s your name? Abbey. What country are you from? The United States.  How old are you? 27 Do you have a boyfriend? Yes. Do you have an Ecuadorian boyfriend? No. Do you want an Ecuadorian boyfriend? No.  Anything is possible.  Do you have kids? No. You should get married and have kids soon.  You´re getting older.  I have 8 kids. Oh. The rooster starts blinking his beady eyes and jutting his head. I bet you can´t carry roosters around wherever you want in your country. No, I don´t think so.

3. Colombia: Overlooked, Underrated

I was re-routed further north based on an overwhelming number of rave Colombian reviews.  While the country has had its share of problems, it has undergone a revival in the last 5 years and opened its doors to travelers and to native Colombians, many of whom are exploring their country for the first time.  While not completely void of annoyances, the majority of people welcome visitors with curiosity and enthusiasm.  The lack of tourism relative to other South American countries gives it an authentic feel.  So fear not, my friends.  And send along the positive Colombian message!

4. A note on the challenges of solo travel

No, it´s not always comfortable.  Sometimes it´s scary, and lonely.  And some nights, or on long bus journeys, you can´t help but realize how alone you are in an unknown city or country.  Some days it´s another stifling dorm, or hard bed, or packing the backpack yet again, that can be so exhausting – and it´s easy to crave the known, the familiar.  The hardest thing by far is the bittersweet goodbye, the undeniable energy you find between you and other people and the biting reality that your paths only crossed momentarily.  But at the end of the day, I suppose the challenges make the experience all the more real.  Es la vida.

5. Ciudad Perdida (Lost City): Found

This 5 day trek is one of the best parts of my travels thus far.  The ¨Lost City¨ is tucked up in the jungles of the Sierra Nevada on the Caribbean coast of Colombia, only opened to trekkers in the 1970´s.  Because there is little tourism, traditional indigenous tribes, still thrive and the stunning landscape and ruins remain mostly untouched.  Our team of 7 emerged from the jungle on day 6, a little burnt, a lot sweaty and with mangled ankles.  But our return to civilization included much anticipated beers, proper showers, and a sense of accomplishment.

6. Part-time Volunteer Work: Photographer, Accomplice

I need to send a word of support for my fellow traveler, friend, and entrepreneur, Malph.  Some of his friends from the UK have presented a challenge: that he wear a Borat-mankini in every country he visit, in a location synonymous with that country (ex-Peru/Machu Picchu), and with photographic evidence.  So far he hasn´t disappointed.  And he deserves some credit.  It takes guts – even my small role as amateur photographer is pretty uncomfortable, so I can only imagine!  Please check out his website and follow his global excursions! www.internationalmankinichallenge.com

7. ¨Romance in the Stone¨ 2009 Remake

Only a select few will appreciate this update but I made it to Cartagena, the home of the infamous 80´s film starring Cathy Turner and Michael Douglas…Romancing the Stone!  Visited the spanish fortresses and the old city – que bueno!  Didn´t find the stone but came across a jewelry store called ¨Romance in the Stone.¨   it was probably shot in Hollywood, I imagined I was part of something pretty big:)

8. A fun day in the mud

A notatable day was my excursion to the mud volcano.  It´s not much to look at from afar, it´s a tiny pit, which is full of muddy suspended bodies, weird noises, and bubbling.  You slop in and pervy men rub you.  And afterwards, middle aged women drag you to this pool of wretched filmy green water, and aggressively bath you and remove your bathing suits.  And then they ask for tips. Que raro.

9. Delfinsolo: the Sail to Panama

I´m not a sailor, and vomit fills my throat as soon as we pull in the anchor.  BUT, Captain Tash thinks I show promise at the helm.  The 7 day sail from Cartagena to Panama was brilliant relaxation and the San Blas islands boast the brightest, bluest Caribbean sea I´ve seen yet.  Our motley crew of 9 survived the week´s confinement with few mishaps other than some really slimy conch and a toasted ass (compliments of my new Colombia purchased bikini).

10. Panama City, Panama: little America

I was alarmed by the stark contrast between Panama and South America, but mostly by the strong American influence.  After 7 months on the road, the latin/american amalgam was really eerie.  A Miami skyline, overwhelming numbers of MLB/NBA/NFL jerseys, overweight people, American chains…one of my favorite bits of Panama so far is the wide use of the yellow school bus, but with spice: decals, spray paint, feather boas.  It´s crazy! 

I´m continuing my Central America explorations through August and I promise to make a more spirited effort to keep you informed!  Thanks for following along…kisses!

¨The ship is safest when it´s in port, but that´s not what ships were built for.¨ -Paulo Coelho