Belize and Guatemala: Revisited

Where do I even begin? Sitting back here in one of my favourite places in the world, my last couple of weeks in Central America seem so long ago now, the previous months in Mexico, Cuba and Costa Rica half a lifetime away. Thinking back to all the amazing and inspirational people that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and sharing time with, it seems impossible to think that all that fitted into just six small months.

My last few weeks barely above the equator were spent in Belize and Guatemala, a combination of revisiting places I’d been earlier in the year and loved, and discovering places I hadn’t had time to visit the first time round. This time too I was fortunate enough to be able to share the experience with Evan, who flew down from Canada to join me on my adventure. After a few days waiting around in Dangriga I made my way up to Belize City to meet Evan from his flight at the rather foreboding Novelo’s bus station. Belize City, especially the area surrounding the bus terminal, isn't a particularly nice place so I left it until the last possible moment to go there, arriving just a short time before him. Luck was on our side that afternoon and a flawlessly timed taxi and water taxi connection later we found ourselves pulling up to the dock on Caye Caulker around mid afternoon. Now you may remember that this wasn’t one of my favourite places on my last visit, but Caye Caulker really is a must-see when it comes to getting an overall picture of the coastal area of Belize, especially if you want to go kiting. In fact I have to admit I liked the place far better second time around. Maybe it was because it was the start of low season and virtually deserted and I wasn’t arriving there having just been dragged away, kicking and screaming, from somewhere I didn’t want to leave, but I liked it. To be fair, the island really is a picture book paradise – crystal clear turquoise water, white sand, wooden cabanas and the second largest reef in the world – it’s hard not to like it.


Our time on Caye Caulker was mostly spent walking (the whole length of the island takes barely 20 minutes from one end to the other), kiting (or rather spectating in my case!), watching the World Cup, drinking smoothies, getting sunburnt and eating lobster. We’d decided not to make any plans for our time in Belize, instead making the decision each day as to whether we’d seen enough of the place we were in and then choosing where to go next. After day two on Caye Caulker we’d pretty much exhausted all our options so we decided to catch the (rather expensive) water taxi to San Pedro, on Ambergris Caye, for the day. From what I'd heard, San Pedro wasn’t somewhere that had ever appealed to me, but I was curious to see just how bad it was. I wasn’t disappointed. It reminded me of a run down British seaside town off season. Many years ago I remember visiting Great Yarmouth in the winter, with the hoardings up on its seafront shops, closed down for the winter, the weather grey and drizzly, the residents in hibernation. San Pedro was the same, only warmer. After some breakfast at the aptly named ‘Caroline’s cafe’ and realising there was little to see on foot, we decided to hire a golf buggy - the only means of transport on the island - to explore. Sadly, what we found though wasn’t any more inspiring than the beachfront. We drove through the town from end to end - or at least as far as the toll bridge in one direction, deciding that whatever lay beyond probably wasn’t worth the fee - and found little but suburbs full of beaten up houses, a deserted looking commercial port and a few tourist shops complete with tourist prices. All in all a thoroughly depressing place that we weren’t sorry to leave.


The following day we decided to head inland rather than down the coast and caught a bus across to San Ignacio in the Cayo District. It was the first of many chicken bus journeys that over the months I have grown to tolerate and even enjoy, but that simply made Evan feel very ill if they lasted more than an hour or two. Unfortunately though, in Belize there are few other options unless you can afford to fly between places, so buses it was and we made it to San Ignacio by late afternoon. I was pleased to find that Hi-Et had rooms, even that they recognised me from my previous visit, although this time we went upmarket and took a room with a private bathroom rather than sharing a single bed for US$12.50! San Ignacio is a funny little place, a last stop town for people heading across the border to Guatemala and an obvious base for people wanting to visit Mayan ruins and the ATM caves. We fell into both categories, deciding to spend a day visiting Cahal Pech and exploring the town before heading to Guatemala the following day. It was great to be able to revisit the various food places in the town – the Chinese restaurant with the great salt and pepper fish where a Rasta guy bothered us incessantly until Evan gave in and bought a soap seed necklace he didn’t want just to get rid of him. Last time it was a second-hand shoe saleman peddling his wares at our table as we tried to eat. Then there was Cenaida’s where we had some wonderful fresh fish; in fact we visited there three times on one particular day - a visit for lunch, another for dinner and smoothies in between! Then of course Pop’s for breakfast and Ko-Ox Hanna for their wonderful iced coffee made with ice cream.


Rather than just go to Tikal for the day, we decided that we had enough time to see a little more of Guatemala and so we set off for Flores, a tiny island on Lake Peten. Shunning the expensive and unnecessary direct bus option again, we took a local taxi to the border (the BZ$5 one rather than the chancer who asked for US$25!) and walked across, making sure not to miss immigration this time. We then had a pretty good ride to Flores from the other side of the border crossing in a collectivo van to Santa Elena, followed by a taxi across the causeway to the island. Surprisingly, the potholed road between the border and Ixlu which accounted for the incredibly slow and painful journey last time has been mostly resurfaced and bar a few sections, was a vast and welcome improvement. I’m glad we decided to go to Flores as it turned out to be a quaint, pretty little town and home to by far the best and cheapest smoothies we found on the entire trip. On arrival we followed the recommendation of the taxi driver and stayed in a nice little hotel (US$16 a night!) with a balcony overlooking the lake.


To make the most of the day and to beat the sweltering heat, the following morning we found ourselves on the road at 4.30am headed for Tikal. Although we complained about the early start, once we started climbing up those temples we were very glad we were doing so in the relative cool of the morning. Despite having been there already, the place is awe-inspiring and a second visit was no hardship at all, in fact I saw even more this time than I did the first time I was there. Forget the Grand Plaza with its iconic temples, my favourite place is still the top of Temple IV and its views out over the forest canopy with the tops of the other temples poking through the treetops, a scene made famous in Star Wars episode 4. There’s something strangely contemplative sitting there so high up above the jungle and I was glad I was able to share that experience with Evan. We sat up there for a long time with the place virtually to ourselves until the heat of the sun became too intense, at which point we headed off in search of refreshment.


On leaving Flores, we headed south on the morning bus to Rio Dulce, just a few hours away. We were undecided whether to stay in Rio Dulce or continue onwards to Livingston the same day, also whether to make the journey by bus or boat, so when we arrived we made our way to a bar overlooking the water for a cold drink and to pause for thought. Whilst debating our options, a bartender overheard our conversation and promptly called the launch to come and pick us up from the bar’s jetty! As it turned out, the ride down the river to Livingston was one of the highlights of the trip. The river winds north east through the most incredible jungle, dense towering forest on each riverbank, so much so that from the boat you have to crane your neck to see the sky. Imagine the beautiful National Geographic shots you see of small boats running along the Amazon and you won’t be far off. It really was one of the most stunning landscapes I’ve ever seen and I’m so glad we chose to make the journey by boat.


I had a feeling as soon as I arrived that Livingston would quickly become one of my favourite places. Call it the Hopkins of Guatemala. A little more touristy perhaps, but a similar vibe, Livingston is a small Garifuna town accessible only by water. Upon arrival, the boat skipper tried in vain to herd everyone on the boat towards his hostel with promises of free tequila, but we decided to go and look at some of the other options first. The first place we enquired at wanted a ridiculous 560 quetzals a night (US$71), but at Casa Rosada immediately next door we got a nice little cabana for just 160 quetzals (US$20) complete with use of the hammocks on a private jetty stretching out over the water. Feeling lazy, we also ordered dinner there even though we could have eaten far more cheaply elsewhere – hey, sometimes you’ve got to splurge, right? It turned out to be the right decision because we had the best steak that night that I’ve had in a very long time. Lying in the hammocks after the sun had gone down, drinking yet another smoothie was one of those moments where you feel that life really isn’t that bad. Several times during the course of this trip I’ve had those moments where I’ve wondered how on earth I’ve been lucky enough to be doing whatever I've been doing and this was one of them. It’s a feeling that I’ve heard many people talk about along the way, but only one person’s conclusion really stuck in my mind and that was that there is no luck about it. The reason I, and all those other people, were there doing what we were doing is because we got off our backsides and made it happen and that there is little stopping most people living in the western world from making the same choices and sacrifices and doing the same if they chose to. I guess they're right.


The next day, rather than hanging around as we'd first planned, we jumped on a boat to Puerto Barrios. With at least three more places we wanted to visit on our way back up the Belizean coast we didn’t want to leave ourselves short of time. In Puerto Barrios we briefly debated hopping on a bus to Honduras and even trying to make it all the way to the leather markets of Esteli in Nicaragua to buy some custom made cowboy boots, but then sense kicked in and we instead boarded a boat bound for Belize.

Here, a word of advice. If you ever plan to copy this trip, or indeed take a trip in a small boat anywhere in this area of the world, buy a cushion right at the start. In fact buy two, one to sit on and one to tie to the base of your spine. Boat seats are hard and unforgiving and they hurt when you spend any length of time sitting on them while crashing through six foot waves. Luckily we were the only two passengers; the rest of the boat was full of boxes of kitchen cleaner, so we could at least sit at the back on this occasion which slightly lessens the blow. The ride back to Belize wasn’t as bad as the one between Honduras and Belize, but still it was pretty rough and a couple of hours after we left we arrived in Punta Gorda soaking wet, battered and bruised, but still smiling.


Punta Gorda unfortunately was the antithesis of Livingston and in hindsight we both wished we’d either stayed in Livingston another night or got the first bus out of there as soon as we'd arrived. Perhaps the town has more charm in high season (I highly doubt it) but I was genuinely surprised to find it to be such a miserable, desolate and uninspiring place. Punta Gorda was grim. The people were grim, the buildings grim, nothing about it was welcoming. That was, until a young lad cycled past us and handed us a flyer for a new restaurant that had just opened along the waterfront. Later on, having walked a circuit of the town and determined that there was nowhere else to eat that had any appeal, we set off in search of the place. The map on the flyer led us down a dingy, unlit, muddy road heading towards the outskirts of the town and for the very first time anywhere we’d been we questioned our safety. We were actually still discussing whether or not we were walking into a trap when we arrived at Asha’s Culture Kitchen. A brand new wooden building on stilts over the water complete with resident crabs crawling up through the floorboards, we were greeted warmly by the owner and were pleasantly surprised to find a very good menu that included lots of fresh fish and plenty of side options rather than just the usual rice and beans, which was becoming a little tiring. I opted for Lionfish fingers, doing my bit for the preservation of the reef, and Evan had the Barracuda. I have to say, both meals were excellent and I wish the place every success. If you ever find yourself in Punta Gorda, god forbid, then this is the only place worth visiting. On the way home we decided ice cream was in order and stopped at the ice cream parlour. Our culinary luck was obviously out by this point though, as we watched the server recycle used plastic disposable spoons, taking them from a large tub of water where they’d obviously been sitting for some time. Concealing our horror, we decided to pretend we hadn’t seen what he’d done and ate our ice cream anyway. A move that proved the wrong decision as we both had bouts of stomach trouble not long after.

Next stop was Placencia via a boat from Independence to save a couple of hours on a bus. A pleasant enough journey and no real hardship to make, Evan was still suffering the ill effects of something he’d eaten and was feeling pretty rough so our first stop when we arrived was for coffee. Here we met a friendly English/Belizean couple who gave us a run down of the local accommodation options, making our search much easier. Given it was Lobsterfest weekend, we opted for Lydia’s Guesthouse at the northern end of the boardwalk, away from the noise and bustle. A cute little yellow and white wooden building, this was probably the best room we had during the whole trip. It was a shared bathroom, but the only other residents for the majority of the time we were there were a group of three friendly young American lads so it wasn’t really a problem. For the next few nights we checked out the town, watched some more football and generally relaxed, ate and drank coffee. I’d been looking forward to seeing Placencia and I was pleasantly surprised to find it wasn't as developed as I'd imagined it to be. A narrow peninsula sandwiched between mangroves and the sea, I guess there’s only so far things can spread. However, it didn’t feel crowded or overdeveloped (although a little touristy for my liking) and we met some nice ex-pats there, in particular at the coffee shop ‘2 Can B Sweet’ and at the ‘Pickled Parrot’ bar.



On the bus ride out of Placencia we noticed just how much was being built further out of town...or rather how much had been started and appeared to have stalled. We had decided to get the bus to the Hopkins turn off and hitch from there. We had contemplated just hitching the whole way, but as the bus was leaving when we were it seemed silly not to get on it. Much as we’d tried we couldn’t find a cost effective way to get up the coast by boat. As it happened we arrived at the junction at virtually the same time as a local taxi heading back into Hopkins so we jumped in. It felt a little strange driving down that road again given the manner of my last entry into the town and to be honest when we first arrived at the junction with the main road I wasn’t really feeling it. A little disappointed that maybe the Hopkins magic had been a temporary, fleeting thing that I had been privileged to experience on my first visit, an initial walk around the town didn’t really change my mind. The place seemed suddenly unremarkable and it made me sad. We decided to stay at the Dodo again and my disappointment was added to when I found out that Giovanni was no longer there and that the place was being run by a new manager. Taking a spectacularly shoddy private room with an en suite (of sorts) we agreed to two nights initially but my hopes weren’t high. I’d tried not to hype up the place pre-arrival because I wanted Evan to form his own opinions of Hopkins, but sitting looking at the curtain nailed to the wall (are curtain rails not available in Belize?!), the shredded shower curtain and the broken toilet seat, I did start to question whether this was a budget option too far.


Nonetheless, I was going to make the best of it and suggested that we go and find Tina’s and see if they had gibnut on the menu for lunch, something that was met with a look of disgust. From then on things started to improve, the magic in the town started to weave its spell again. The food at Tina’s was great (yes, they had gibnut). It was better than great, in fact it became our go-to place at every opportunity. After lunch and a wander through town in the opposite direction we hit the treetop bar at the Dodo and met some truly lovely people; an Irish couple - Karen and Simon, a couple of Americans, a few other random travellers and the new manager, Marlon, all with their stories to tell. We spent the whole evening there in the bar - aside from a return excursion to Tina’s for dinner - talking about everything from music to travels to all the other random things a bunch of strangers-now-friends chat about. At the end of the evening when we finally headed to bed, after several failed announcements that that was our intention before getting caught up in the conversation again, Hopkins was very much back in my favours. Evidently it had started to work its charm on Evan too - as we settled down for the night he said ‘I like this place, it has something about it’. I just smiled.


The next day we rented beach cruisers and headed out to the southern end of town, out to the marina and stopped in along the way to talk to the Remax real estate guy. We had a lot of questions in our heads about land ownership in Belize and the implications and pitfalls and he managed to answer pretty much all of them. In fact it was almost spooky how at every turn we met people who could answer our questions from firsthand experience and no matter how hard we tried to find them, there seemed to be very few downfalls or complications. Later in the afternoon after meeting the Irish guys at Innies for lunch (Bundiga – a delicious Garifuna fish stew with made with coconut and dumplings made from green bananas, no flour at all...look it up!) we decided to go back and look at a couple of the plots of land we’d seen on paper. One was a plot a row back from the waterfront on the market for US$35k, the other a house built puzzlingly close to the water’s edge on the market for US$360k. It was interesting to see the damage caused to the waterfront property from the brutal effects of the weather in the few short years since it had been built and really gave food for thought. Our heads full of ideas and possibilities, we headed back to the Dodo bar. Hopkins was getting well and truly under our skin.


Day three (or maybe it was day four, I can’t remember, but it happens when you enter the Hopkins zone) we hung out around town and in the evening we went with Simon and Karen to the ‘posh’ end of town to meet friends of friends of theirs who run a dive shop. We met at an ‘expensive burger place’ as the taxi driver put it that did indeed serve a very good burger and thick hand cut fries. It was an enjoyable evening and yet another insight into how things work for ex-pats in Belize. Yet again, no-one had anything bad to say about the place, people seem to truly love it there. After dinner I remembered that the taxi driver who brought us into town had said there was Garifuna drumming on in town that night and wanting Evan to be able to experience that, we headed for Tina’s where we were told it would be. Luckily we were still in plenty of time to catch the second half of it.

Hopkins is definitely much quieter in the low season, but there was still a steady flow of people coming through the Dodo and still infinite numbers of friendly locals always ready to chat and welcome you to the town. The drummers were no exception. These guys had charisma by the bucket load, circulating during the break, explaining how the drums were made and showing a genuine interest in where we were all from and welcoming us to Hopkins. Belize is consistently the only place in Central America where I have rarely felt that interest is feigned for the benefit of extracting your money. Subsequently, everyone there seemed to stay longer than they had originally anticipated, all commenting that Hopkins just had something about it that made them want to stay.

The following day we decided to rent a trail bike and get out into the surrounding area a bit more and check out some of those tracks you always pass on a bus and never see. Renting a bike was another very simple process that cost exactly what the price on the board outside promised rather than the usual double by the time you've added insurance waivers, etc, and in just a few minutes we had ourselves a bike and were heading off towards Cockscomb Basin Jaguar Preserve, a little way south along the main highway. We decided to go via Sittee River to check out the land at the southern end of town. A bumpy, unmade road with what seemed like hundreds of speed bumps made from either concrete or old rope, it wasn't long before I started to feel much the same way as I do when I get it into my head that riding a horse for several hours is a good idea. Riding pillion hurts after a couple of hours and wanting to make the most of our days hire, we spent many more than a couple of hours on that bike, 200km worth to be precise. After a nice ride out to Cockscomb down a long, winding track, we decided that rather than hike around the park, we'd carry on and find a place for breakfast. Or rather lunch by this time, which ended up being some very good jerk chicken from a little side of the road stand at the junction with Silk Grass. Incidentally, the same junction that Max and I had ended up at on our failed attempt to walk from Dangriga on my previous visit to Belize. Later, on our way back from Dangriga to Hopkins I had the chance to find out exactly how far we did walk that day - 23km!


For the rest of the day we headed out along the Hummingbird Highway towards Belmopan, through the high walls of tropical forest on either side of the road and then, after a brief visit to Dangriga, we headed back to Hopkins via the Sittee River road to refuel. By this time neither of us really wanted to get back on the bike again and every speed bump felt like climbing a mountain. I wasn't sorry when we dropped the bike off and went to find some well earned dinner.

It was quiet in the bar that night, our Irish friends had finally broken the spell and left that morning. We had a pleasant evening though, ever full of surprises, as a man who walked into the bar with his pet raccoon on his shoulder proved. Hopkins certainly more than lived up to my expectations a second time round and still seemed to be capturing the hearts of everyone fortunate enough to discover it. We debated the possibility of staying one last night there, even the taxi driver who ran us out to the junction the following day suggested ways we'd be able to get to Belize City in time for our flight the following morning, but we were on our way and city bound. I honestly have never found a place I love quite as much as Hopkins and I know I'll be back there again sometime soon.


Back in Belize City, we took a taxi to a guesthouse that we'd found online and liked the look of because of its colourful descriptions of its rooms and it was nice enough. We were in a relatively safe suburb as far as Belize City goes, but still the taxi driver felt it necessary to warn us not to be wandering around outside after dark. He also pointed us in the direction of a park nearby where he said we'd find food. Later, deciding that a calculated risk was in order to be able to eat, we found the park was actually a pleasant enough place, nothing like the gangland waste ground that rumour would have you believe. With an outdoor stage - complete with entertainment provided by a bible summer camp group, although not entertaining for the reasons probably intended - and a number of very good food stands, we picked our way around, grazing here and there on very good Jamaican jerk chicken, cheesy fries and Filipino asado siaopao steamed pork buns. For a city that we hadn't been looking forward to spending even a night in, Belize continued to surprise and enthral us to the end.

When I arrived in Nicaragua I thought that maybe Belize had met its match at last, but although a worthy runner up, I think it'll be a long time before I find a place I love quite as much as I love that country. I know it won't be long before I'm back there again. I also can't think of anyone I'd rather have spent my time there with, so thanks too to Evan for sharing the adventure with me.

Now I'm back in Canada for the summer, first in Toronto catching up with some of the people I love most in the world, and now back in Big Bay up on the Bruce Peninsula amongst people I consider my second family. I warned them I'd be back and it feels really good to be here again. As for what's next, at this moment in time I really don't know. Watch this space...

Nicaragua, Te Amo!

Firstly, apologies for my elusiveness in recent months. No real excuse, except that my connections to decent wifi for long enough to upload anything have been intermittent. And then when my connection has been good, my attention span for sitting in front of a computer for any length of time has been intermittent. Truth is, I’ve been too damn busy doing stuff and enjoying myself! That’s not to say I haven’t been writing. I make notes all the time, write little bits and hold on to them. I actually wrote much of this weeks ago. Sorry for not posting it until now…

I was just starting to think that nowhere would capture my heart in quite the way that Belize did...and then I discovered Nicaragua.


Don't get me wrong, the three months I spent in Costa Rica was fun. I met some lovely people, saw some beautiful places and left with some wonderful memories, but the country itself lacked something that almost everywhere else in Central America seemed to have. It was missing the warmth, the vibrancy and the sense of community so typical elsewhere. I mean that of course as a generalisation, there were small villages and communities there that I was blessed to have spent time in, but on the whole I got the feeling that those aforementioned qualities were long gone, chased out by the high numbers of ex-pats opening up shop and the pursuit of the tourist trade.

Nicaragua on the other hand couldn't have been more different, and I must admit I had pretty high expectations. I can't recall speaking to a single person who has been to Nicaragua who didn't love it there as much as I did. 'It's what Costa Rica was fifteen years ago' was something I heard time and again. And long may it stay this way. I hope this beautiful country never goes the way of Costa Rica. Crossing the border from Costa Rica to Nicaragua was like breath of fresh air. Suddenly I was back in Central America again, it was alive and vibrant and it felt so good.


My first stop in Nicaragua was Isla de Ometepe, an island in Lake Nicaragua formed by two volcanoes - Concepcion and Maderas. It was a beautiful place, but very quiet off season and having heard so many positive reports from people who had been there, to be honest I was a little disappointed. Maybe my expectations were too high and I'm ever mindful that impressions of a place are so largely based on the people you interact with there (virtually nobody in this case as everywhere seemed to be empty and dead), but after staying a few nights I decided to move on and headed for the parties and craziness of San Juan del Sur. It wasn't actually my intention to go there, had it not been for one of my travelling buddies leaving their kindle behind in Ometepe and me agreeing to catch up with them to return it. As it turns out San Juan was a much nicer place than I had anticipated. A surf town and much smaller and less crazy than I had first thought, it turned out to be a nice chilled out place to while away a few days.


However, all that changes on a Sunday with the happening of the rather dubiously named 'Sunday Funday', an event dreamt up by a couple of the local party hostels to extract as much money as possible from their guests while making sure everyone participating gets as drunk as they can, tours swimming pools and trashes everything in sight. Maybe I'm just getting old and more respectful with age, but on speaking to local people in San Juan it's clear they're not at all happy about the growth of this event or the effect it has had on San Juan and the thought of being involved in something that goes so against the local culture and upsets local residents isn't something that sits right with me. I'm all up for people having fun and enjoying themselves and I’m no stranger to drunken nights out where I don’t recall how I made it home, but not when it involves riding roughshod over the locals and disrespecting them in the way this event seems to. In addition I don't recall many amazing nights out that I've had that began with me paying $20 to join a glorified pub crawl and being instructed to get very drunk and told I will have a good time. Nevertheless many people do it, 350 the weekend prior to my arrival I was told. One local resort owner I spoke to in a bar told me that he made $3,000 profit from it every Sunday and that this more than made up for the damage caused. Not having any real desire to witness the drunken debauchery, I hopped in a taxi (thank you Emilie!) and grabbed a ride to Granada on Sunday morning.


Granada was an interesting place. A beautifully kept colonial city, it reminded me a lot of Trinidad in Cuba. However, it lacked something, it was sleepy and I didn't connect with the place. The hostel I stayed in on my first night there was empty, I had 14 beds all to myself, save for a few American Lutheran Christians, who I think were there doing missionary work and were staying in private rooms, who kindly invited me out to dinner with them that night. The following day I moved to a more lively place...well, there were other people there at least. This place had a pool, a small bar and rabbits! In fact Nicaragua seems to have a thing about rabbits, they popped up everywhere. In hostels as pets on more than one occasion, being carried on buses, you name it they were there. I think my most memorable rabbit encounter was with a guy trying to sell me cigarettes from a basket balanced on his head while stroking his pet rabbit as I sat and tried to eat the Vigoron (google it) I had so stupidly decided to try in the main square one lunchtime. In the hostel I met another English guy travelling on his own so we spent a couple of days hanging out, went on a boat trip to the Isletas and cycled up to Laguna de Apoyo, a crater lake about 8km from the city. It really was a stunningly beautiful place, warm water, sheltered around the edges, a perfect paradise location and we we're pretty much the only people there bar a couple of locals who came to bathe their horses nearby.


When we got back to our rented bikes though, which we'd dutifully chained to a fairly secure fence, we discovered that we hadn't been as alone as we first thought because each bike was missing a wheel and the seat, the only parts not protected by the lock. Our much anticipated freewheel all the way back down the volcano destroyed, we started the long walk home, half carrying, half wheeling what was left of our bikes. Walking through the villages on the way back made it all worthwhile though. Deserted on our way there, these places were now full of locals sitting around enjoying the cool of the evening and we were well received, the adults for the most part clearly annoyed and embarrassed that we'd been put in this situation, kids pointing and laughing but meaning no harm. One young lad even stopped by on his horse and offered to go and get horses for us so we could ride back. Only one person, a sulky teenage lad, eyed us suspiciously from his seat high up on a wall as we passed him. I suspect he was the culprit. On arriving back at the bike rental the guys there were very reasonable, lots of apologetic smiles and phone calls to various people to try and find replacement wheels and we eventually left $90 lighter. We'd had a great day though and nothing was going to spoil that.


After a few days in Granada I had planned to move to Leon, but realising I had more time that I first thought, I decided to head north to Esteli with a couple of Aussie guys I'd met who also found themselves with time to kill. This was probably the best spur of the moment decision I made in Nicaragua as Esteli was by far my favourite city there. As soon as I arrived there the positive 'can do' energy of the place was obvious. There is a strong, creative grass roots movement in the city and the hostel I stayed in, Hostal Luna, was run as a not-for-profit. It was also connected to a not-for-profit cafe and the 'Treehuggers' free tourist information office. Not really knowing much about the place we decided to support this local initiative and go on a couple of their tours, one of the hundreds of colourful murals that have been created all over the city since the revolution and another of a local cigar factory. Given that the tobacco industry in Esteli employs 80% of the town’s residents it seemed only right to find out more about it and I have to say it was far more interesting than I had imagined.


The highlight of my time in Esteli though had to be a visit to the Tisey National Park to meet Don Alberto. Following a dream he had at the age of 9, he carved his first rock in 1977 and for the last 47 years Don Alberto has been carving pictures into the rock faces all over his land. He spends around three hours a day with the most basic of hand tools carving everything from elephants to reptiles, Samsun showing his strength, lions, rum, helicopters and jaguars. Rather bizarrely, even the twin towers make an appearance. For the last 8 years he hasn't even left his property, but welcomes visitors with open arms, explaining animatedly his carvings, interspersing his ramblings with ad lib poetry...all in Spanish of course that even our local guide had trouble translating at times. He did however manage to tell us that he is finally teaching himself to read and write and proudly showed us his visitor book where he had neatly written his name over and over along the top of a page.



After a short diversion to Matagalpa for just one night, my last stop in Nicaragua was Leon, a city that I'd repeatedly heard from people was 'nicer than Granada' but I don't know, the jury's still out on that one. Granada is definitely more beautiful, Leon perhaps more genuine. I liked both places, each had its merits for different reasons. Leon certainly had some interesting characters, not least of all in the hostel I stayed at. Unfortunately Leon will also stick in my memory as one of the only places I lost anything on my travels. In my case it was only the loose change out of the pocket of my shorts one night while they laid on the end of my bed, but for another guy it was $500 from his bag and another girl had her iPhone snatched. I'd spoken to someone a few days earlier who had had her camera stolen from her bag at another hostel in town so it seems Leon has a bit of a problem in that respect.

Nevertheless, Leon was interesting enough. I spent a few days there, the highlight was climbing Volcan Telica by moonlight with the local not-for-profit Quetzaltrekkers. Run by volunteer guides with all proceeds going to benefit local kids, every month they organise a hike to climb Telica by the light of the full moon, arriving at the crater around 3.30am and then watching the sunrise before the hike back down. This seems to me to have several advantages, not least avoiding the punishing daytime temperatures and relentless sun. I've spoken to so many people who have climbed various volcanoes in this part of the world and all complain about how difficult the heat and exposure is, in many cases for very little payoff at the top, usually arriving just as the clouds descend. Why anyone would want to do such a hike is beyond me. This hike, however, was pretty amazing. I can't think of too many active volcanoes that you can walk right to the edge of the crater on and look down into the lava with no safety barriers and H&S rules. It's hard to describe the feeling you get when you stand there looking down into the abyss, the sulphur burning your eyes and nose and feeling the ground underneath you rumble, but I can highly recommend it if ever you get a chance to do anything similar and it provided a perfect end to my time in this beautiful country.



As much as I was sad to leave Nicaragua, I was excited to be heading back to Belize too. In order to spend as much time as possible in Nicaragua, sadly I'd left myself no time for Honduras or El Salvador on my journey north and instead took the Tica bus (for the first time), rather than chicken buses, north to San Pedro Sula in Honduras.

With its dubious title of 'most dangerous city in the world' due to it having the highest murder rate, I must admit I did feel a little nervous about going there. It was all unfounded of course, as most travel advisories are, in fact my overall impression of Honduras from my long bus ride through it was that it's a beautiful country, lush and green and very undeveloped. I actually spent only one night in San Pedro Sula, but it is well worth a mention. I was lucky enough to pick The Guaras hostel as my place to stay and I couldn't have chosen a better place. Rocky, the guy who owns the hostel came to meet me from the bus, happily offering to stop in at a supermarket on the way home (and being extremely patient while the people with me debated endlessly their dinner options!) to enable us to use the ATM and buy groceries for dinner to save us having to go out again later in the evening. In the evening he made sure we all knew exactly how we were going to get to our next destinations complete with times that we’d need to be ready for him to drop us off at our respective buses the following morning. Rocky was one of those guys you instantly like, nothing was too much trouble for him and talking to him later he explained to me how he’d built up the hostel and his transport business from scratch and the numerous pitfalls he’d encountered along the way. He also explained the stark realities for Hondurans when it comes to work opportunities. The guy was a true fighter, salt of the earth and I was sad that I’d not left a few days in my schedule to spend a few days with him and some of the surrounding area. Looking at it as ‘glass half full’ though, it gives me a good reason to return both to there and to El Salvador at some point in the future.

And so the following morning I found myself on one of the craziest local buses I’d encountered thus far heading for the rather charmless town of Puerto Cortes to catch the weekly boat to Mango Creek in Belize. Following a fun game of cat and mouse with the Honduran immigration guy…he wanted $5 exit fee, I didn’t want to give it to him…and a catch-up with my Venezuelan friend from the Tica bus the day before, I was finally on my way back to Belize. It was with some trepidation for several reasons, not least of all because I know how often revisiting much loved places ends in a crushing anti-climax. Apprehensions were soon forgotten once the boat left port though, my mind suddenly fully focused on how the hell I was going to survive the next couple of hours without losing my breakfast over the side. Not one usually to suffer from seasickness, this ride was clearly an exception, the sea horribly rough and focusing on the horizon not even a possibility because of the swell. I’m still not sure even now how I made it, but it’s not a journey I want to do again in a hurry.

Upon landing at Mango Creek however, I knew instantly that my fear was unfounded. I felt the country’s charm envelope me immediately, right from the dry humour of the immigration guy who boarded the boat to stamp my passport, to the ride north to Dangriga in a taxi van than can only be fittingly described as long past ready for the scrapyard, to the friendly welcomes and interest from the locals. Belize wasn’t going to disappoint a second time round, I could feel it.

Northbound - onwards and upwards!

In a few days I'll be leaving Costa Rica, headed north. I'll be travelling through Nicaragua and Honduras for the next month or so on my way back to two of my favourite places - Belize and then Canada. I'm excited!

"We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place. We stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there. We travel to ourselves when we go to a place."     Pascal Mercier - Night Train to Lisbon

Things I learned in Costa Rica

It feels like a very long time since I wrote anything at all, yet arguably I've had plenty of time to. I've no excuse really, except that perhaps I haven't really had that much to write about. When you stay in the same place for an extended period, especially fairly remote, isolated places, there's only a very small percentage of your time that's spent doing anything particularly unusual or exciting. Although I guess being randomly interviewed (in Spanish) for a local tv series while eating a trout I'd just caught ten minutes previously might count.


The last couple of months, aside from my visit to Corcovado, I've been at the beautiful Casa Marisposa in San Gerado de Rivas on the edge of the Chirripo National Park. A tiny mountain village, it gave me the chance to experience a unique slice of local Costan Rican village life and to meet some wonderful people as they passed through the area. It would be hard to pick one favourite thing about my time there, but honourable mentions must go to the Trout Farm, Secret Gardens and of course the Cloudbridge Reserve where I spent so much of my time. Having a place so beautiful and serene right on my doorstep was an incredibly lucky coincidence. I did a lot of hiking, sitting and thinking in that forest, alone for hours with just the occasional coati stopping by for a curious glance.


It was time to move on though and explore new places and although I didn't think it possible, I've been lucky enough to find a place even more beautiful than the last. Cascada Verde in Uvita is a hostel right in the jungle, owned and run by a wonderful German family - Julie, Stephan and their little daughter Luzie. Entirely built out of wood and bamboo, I think it'd be hard to find a better location to stop and chill out for a while. Totally opposite in climate to where I was previously, here it's hot, humid and very wet. My days are spent, again, sitting, thinking, drawing and reading, interspersed with a few hours of cleaning rooms in exchange for my bed in a rather cute little volunteer house. If it wasn't for my visa running out in a couple of weeks time then I think I'd probably stay here forever. As it happens I can't...90 days is the limit before you're ejected from the country, so I'll soon be heading up to Nicaragua (via the cloud forest at Monteverde) on my way further north in pursuit of some exciting new ideas that are in the pipeline.


In the meantime though, in the absence of any exciting tales full of adventure to tell, here are a few things I've learned during my time in Costa Rica...

• Chocolate brownies are an accepted form of currency
• Bus fares vary a dollar or two from day to day for the same route depending on a set of undisclosed criteria
• Just when you think it's as hot as it could possibly be, it gets a degree or two hotter
• Monkeys and toucans dropping in to say hello never gets old...unless they're howlers ten feet from your window at 4am
• Receiving anything by post requires a plan, plus several backup plans, of military precision and an awful lot of patience and persuasiveness
• Don't save lizards from cats by picking them up by their tail...
• Tang is a staple dietary item
• Patience
• There are scorpions here
• Steak is better in Costa Rica than anywhere else in Central America
• To shuffle my feet as I enter the Pacific Ocean to avoid stingray strikes
• Mosquitoes here are vicious little bastards
• Batteries drain much quicker at altitude and in humidity
• Nothing ever really dries in the tropics
• One pack of dried black beans, once rehydrated, makes enough beans to feed a small army (if Costa Rica had one) for about a month
• Strangler figs don't actually strangle
• I don't think I'll ever want to eat pasta or rice and beans again after I leave Central America
• There are few places you can't go with just Teva sandals or crocs
• Ticks don't carry Lyme disease
• Even the banknotes here are pretty
• You pay more for a No.2 than a pee in public bathrooms
• Children under 18 are exempt from the law
• The boldest criminal element here, especially on the beaches, are raccoons
• You often have to pay to go to the beach
• Glass frogs make a sound like someone's mobile phone alarm going off which has caused confusion on more than one occasion...
• You need to take out a bank loan to buy pesto
• In fact you need to take out a bank loan even to buy your basic food to survive
• There's no recipe that can't be improved with the addition of refried beans
• It's amazing the meals you can make using 'free box' food and a bit of collective imagination
• Everything runs on Tico time
• When they say 'rainy season' they mean it. It rains every day at 3pm. Sometimes it rains from 10am. Often it rains all night too.

Adventures in Corcovado

Where do I even start? I've been intending for a couple of weeks now to sit down and write about my trip to Puerto Jimenez and Corcovado National Park. After a week spent in San Gerado de Rivas, I found myself with just over a week to kill, so I decided to head down to the Osa peninsula. Remember in the early 90's when rainforest destruction was the number one topic of environmental concern and statistics such as 'every second an area of rainforest the size of a football pitch is destroyed' were heard on a daily basis? Well this is what was being referred to and as a result Costa Rica became one of the top eco-tourism destinations in the world, and in terms of primary rainforest, you don't get much better than Corcovado. Described by National Geographic as 'possibly the most biodiverse place on earth' they're not kidding. This is the rainforest of those Athena prints that everyone had on their wall, primary forest with a thick canopy and a mind blowing abundance of wildlife.


I started my trip in Puerto Jimenez, a ramshackle little town with dirt roads and a certain wild-west style charm, not dissimilar to some of the smaller villages on the coast of Belize, a cross between Caye Caulker and Hopkins I guess. Picture a nice black sand beach edged with almond trees full of scarlet macaws, a few places to eat, a handful of cabinas and a ton of agencies offering tours to Corcovado and other surrounding natural areas and you have Puerto Jimenez. I decided to stay at Cabinas el Perezoso (perezoso is 'sloth' in Spanish), a sweet little place run by an Italian guy called Omar, right at the furthest end of the main road where all the accommodation is. Tucked away under some cashew trees, it was basic, but a great little spot to chill out for a few nights.


Accessing national parks in Costa Rica is an art. Or a lottery. Most require an entry permit that, in order to acquire one, involves jumping through some hoops and Corcovado is no exception. Since February this year rules have also been changed for Corcovado and it is now compulsory to hire a guide in order to visit the forest, which adds another organisational element to the game. When I arrived in Puerto Jimenez I had no real plans, so I asked around and spoke to a few people and it immediately became clear that guides varied greatly in their knowledge. I spoke to a couple that I wasn't particularly impressed with before I received a recommendation from someone I met who had just come back from the jungle. She introduced me to Rodolfo, a guy the same age as me who has been working as a guide there for 14 years and really knows his stuff.


In order to make a reservation to enter the park and to stay overnight at Sirena ranger station in the heart of the forest it is necessary to visit the park office in Puerto Jimenez. Providing space is available you then have to take your reservation to the bank in town and pay your fees. You then take your receipt back to the park office and you're issued with your permit. Luckily Rodolfo did this for me, but I spoke to many people who had to figure out the process for themselves. Information and straight answers I've found are not very forthcoming in Costa Rica so I'm grateful this is an element I didn't have to trouble myself with. I also spoke to many people who struggled to make a reservation because Sirena was full for the following few nights.

After a few nights in Puerto Jimenez waiting to find a few more people to join me and thus reduce the cost of the trip, we finally set off for Corcovado. An early start and a drive to Carate, the starting point for the trek, gave us the chance to see both spider and squirrel monkeys, American crocodiles swimming in the river, black bellied ducks, a green heron and many other birds. From Carate we walked along the coast, zig zagging in and out of secondary forest. A couple of kilometres past La Leona ranger office we were lucky enough to stumble across the holy grail of Corcovado sightings...a puma, laying behind some driftwood on the edge of the beach. Very few people are lucky enough to actually see one of the big cats, although there are plenty of tracks if you look carefully.


The walk from Carate to Sirena is a shade under 20km, much of it along a sandy beach so the going is a little tough at times. Overall though, not a difficult hike, fairly level and we had plenty of time to stop and see things and to take photos. It was also low tide when we set off so walking on the firmer damp sand helped too. As well as the puma we saw coatis, all four of Costa Rica's native monkeys and a multitude of birds, reptiles and insects including beautiful blue morpho butterflies (which are virtually impossible to get a good photos of!) We arrived at Sirena around 5pm, a very basic but comfortable research station with a number of dorm beds, a camping deck and basic kitchen facilities. There is only generator power available there from 6-8pm so after a simple dinner an early night followed, ready for a 4.30am start the next day.


On day two we got to walk through primary forest and to see the strangler figs, balsa trees and the thick forest canopy. It was then that I really realised how important it is to have a good guide. Unlike many of the other guides we met along the way, Rodolfo had not just binoculars, but a spotting scope. At intervals he'd suddenly stop, set it down and we'd get to see many things I'd never have seen if I was on my own. How he spotted some of the things he did I'll never know. On day two we added peccaries, chestnut mandibilled toucans, tapirs, white faced capuchins and too many birds to remember to our list. It was also a full moon that night and seeing it up close through a telescope was a rare experience too.


On day three, due to a mix up with other bookings, we ended up returning to Carate with another guide. Unfortunately, although a nice enough guy, he spoke no English and appeared to know very little about the forest. We saw virtually nothing on the way back and arrived back in Carate in record time. Still, it was a nice walk and surprisingly easy even with the heat and humidity. A cold beer was very welcome upon arrival back at Carate though!


It's hard to describe how incredible it was to be able to visit Corcovado. Lots of people seem to complain about the heat, humidity, the long trek and the bugs, but none of these things could have taken away from the sheer majesty of the place. Yes there were ticks to pull off each evening and no, they really weren't a problem. Bug spray and sunscreen took care of the other main irritations. This was one of those rare untouched places, a place that lingers in your thoughts for a long time after you leave. It makes you think about how important these forests are and about the impact that our actions have on their survival.

I'm not sure where else I'll visit in Costa Rica yet, but my experience in Corcovado will be hard to beat and if I leave here having seen nothing else then my time spent there will have made this unexpected side trip to Costa Rica worth every penny.

Voluntourism in Costa Rica

After spending a couple of weeks in Mexico City feeling out of sorts...partly emotionally having had to say goodbye to a couple of people in recent weeks and partly physically having come down with a nasty flu like bug that wiped me out for a few days, I finally got my act together and realised I needed to go somewhere or do something. Sitting around in the city without a plan was doing me no good so I did the only logical thing I could do...I booked a flight for the next day to Costa Rica.

My last night in Mexico City I stayed in a nice little hostel right in the city, only a block north of Zocalo and two blocks from the metrobus line that runs straight to the airport for 30 pesos. There I met Celeste, a girl from California who was in pretty much the same position as me and so over a few drinks we cheered each other up. It was nice to be back in a hostel again with random people to talk to and bounce ideas off.

My flight to San Jose was earlyish so I found myself wandering through Mexico City at 5am. It was interesting to see the place sans people. I'm not sure I've ever seen so many police cars patrolling. As soon as one reached the end of the block, another appeared around the corner. How the city is considered to be so unsafe is beyond me.

The flight was uneventful, only about 20 people on the plane which surprised me, but also explained the relatively cheap price of the flight. Upon arrival in San Jose I met a woman from Kitchener as she was waiting to leave, who reinforced yet again that Canadians are my favourite people by giving me her unneeded Costa Rican SIM card with $20 credit on it for nothing. It also turns out that cell phone use here us incredibly cheap...nearly a month later of almost continuous data use and I've used less than $5!

After a couple of days of sitting around in San Jose and a few emails enquiring about possible volunteer opportunities, I found myself on a bus headed for San Gerado de Rivas to stay for a while at a hostel at the foot of Mount Chirripo. Casa Mariposa is without a doubt the most beautiful hostel I've ever stayed at. With six private rooms and half a dozen dorm beds, this place is pretty remote as far as hostels go. An hour and a half on a bluebird bus from the nearest large town, the last few kilometres of road into San Gerado are unpaved and rocky. When the bus ends its journey next to the soccer pitch and the general store (pretty much the entirety of the village!) there's still another 1.2km to walk up a very steep hill to reach the hostel. Climbing 600ft in that distance, the altitude rises quickly.

What awaits at the top is truly beautiful though and I always enjoy seeing new guests walk into the place, most instantly forgetting the hike it took to get there. The place is situated in the forest adjacent to a privately owned reserve that is open to the public for free. Cloudbridge is an area of rainforest at the foot of the Talamanca range with a variety of trails and a huge variety of wildlife. I haven't explored it fully yet, but I'm looking forward to doing so over the coming weeks. For now I'm just happy to be stopping somewhere for a bit and not to be packing my bag and moving every few days and I couldn't have found a better spot to do so.

Which leads me to what I want to talk about: voluntourism.

Having moved around a lot over the last couple of months, I knew what I needed to pull myself out of this rut was to find a place to call home for a while. Therefore as soon as I got here I had a look through the HelpX lists for Costa Rica and talked to some people at the hostel in San Jose about possible opportunities and within a few hours of sending some emails I had four offers of places. Three straight offers of work exchanges (bed with or without food) and a fourth that I'd failed to screen out of the 'voluntourism' kind.

In recent years volunteering has clearly become fashionable. At a risk of generalising, it provides a way for gap year students and people going through a mid life crisis to go on holiday but at the same time feel like they're doing something worthwhile with their time and money. This has led to some of the places providing traditional volunteering opportunities trying to turn it into big business. Now, rather than being grateful for the help of a few hardworking people in return for some food and a bed as part of an honest work exchange, they've realised that there are people who are willing to not only work for free, but they're willing to pay for the privilege. Companies have sprung up all over the world, for example, offering a weeks work in an elephant sanctuary in Thailand, a snip at $1500 including a hammock to sleep in and a couple of meals. All the advertising gives the impression that you'll be contributing to a worthwhile cause, but the reality is often very different.

I decided to ask some questions of the place that offered me a paid-for volunteering position. I explained that I was willing to give my time freely and work hard, but that in return I required a place to sleep and my food provided. I also explained that I could not afford to pay for the 'privilege' of working and that I was prepared to give far more of my time in value than a bed and food would cost.

The reply I received didn't surprise me. They explained that they ask their 'volunteers' to work only 4 hours a day and that most volunteers didn't really work at all. They also pointed out that they can pay a Tico $8 for the same amount of work and get five times more output. They admitted that their 'volunteer' programme was really just an option for a cheap holiday and that the income from this benefitted a private business.

I politely replied explaining that this was not what I was looking for and asked them to reconsider their use of the term 'volunteering'. I also pointed out that there are many people out there, like myself, who are happy to work hard, want to learn and do not consider it a cheap holiday and that it's insulting to be lumped in with all the holidaymakers who choose to slack off whilst on their 'volunteer holidays'. I also pointed out that it's a catch 22 - I've spoken to many genuine volunteers about this and the consensus is that as soon as someone is paying to be somewhere they feel less valued and less like they have to earn their keep and therefore productivity will inevitably be lower.

I fully respect that, in this case, local people are being employed and that should always be top priority. Volunteers should be adding something to the community they're working in, not taking jobs from local people. It's just a shame that genuine volunteers are losing out so often now to the voluntourism sector. To be asked to pay to work goes against everything I believe in. It devalues your efforts and leads people to expect to have to pay in the future. This sector unfortunately is growing though, with more and more extreme examples. I've heard stories about child daycare centres in Asia for example, being touted as 'orphanages' to attract paying volunteers.

It is of course admirable that so many people are willing to give their time freely to help organisations and I'm not putting those people down. I guess what I'm asking is that before you consider one of these types of holidays, please do your research. Find out where exactly your money is going and what it us being used for. Make sure that by volunteering you aren't taking a job a away from a local worker. There are many charities and organisations that would love to have your help in return for providing you with food, a bed and a wealth of knowledge. Check out HelpX, Wwoofing and Workaway for genuine work exchange opportunities in the country you plan to visit. There you'll find plenty of opportunities to do something worthwhile and to fully experience a place by living and working with local people and truly experiencing the place.

Next up...my trip to Corcovado National Park!