The time has come

I read an interesting story recently. It involved a Western man heading into a far off tribal village in the amazon region of a Latin American country. He intended to immerse himself into the culture for 12 months for research. He had joined the men on a trip through the jungle when things started to get a bit desperate. The group hasn't eaten sufficiently for a few days and they were still a few days from their destination. Then, as luck would have it, some local wildlife presented itself in range of the tribesmans spears. Shortly after, dinner was served. After devouring every last morcel of the meat, the westerner had a scary though - "what if we don't find any more food for a few more days". So he asked the tribe leader - "why did we eat it all? what about later?" to which the leader replied......"what's later".

You see the tribe had no concept of later, or time for that matter. They ate when they ate, slept when they slept and went about their lives moment by moment. How blissful it must be to live in a world with no time contraints.....no clocks, no alarms, no schedules....Unfortunately for me though, I live in the westerners world and I do have time constraints. So after 7 months, 11 countries, lots of cycling and the occasional rum and cigar, my walkabout is coming to a close. Far from sad though, I am extremely ready and excited to finish up what has been a wonderfully challenging, rewarding and fun period of my life. It's time to get onto the next stage of life and have another go at "reality", whatever that is......

So, after a great few weeks in Laos, I have made my way over to Vietnam for my final 10 days. The first 5 were spent visiting friends from home as they ventured around the central coast of Vietnam. Scooter rides, beaches, tailor made green velvet jackets and far too many 25 cent home brew beers were the theme of this mini reunion with Jim and Alex. Hoi An is a quaint city full of nice cafes, hand made suits and a few too many whiteys. A great time was had though and with a handshake and a hug, it was time, once again to bid farewell to more friends until we pass through each others lives once more.

Apparently the waves were strong enough to require jocks to be pulled right up.....

Speed goggles, although looking cool, don't actually help too much

Hoi An dogs trying to have fun before they get thrown on a BBQ...

Apparently scooters don't handle the sand too well....

Jim being original...

Alex and Jim - disgustingly in love!



Alex cruising a ruins site


Next and final stop, Hanoi. With my bike "safely" stored at the airport I made the bus journey into what is truly a crazy and bustling city. It's not everyday you tilt your head up from your slumber on a bus to see what the hold up is, only to realise the guy in front is riding an old scooter while towing a wooden trailer with a cow in it! Welcome to Hanoi! The most interesting part of an otherwise forgetful and tiring travel day was yet to come however.

Within 10 mnutes of arriving to my hostel, I was being dragged (against my will) out to some bar in the far flung outskirts of the city to go to a "snake village". Apparently we were going to kill, eat and drink the blood of some poor old snakes. Quite unsure how that sat with my vegetarianism, I thought I may as well at least head out there. Besides, some lovely old lady had already poisoned me with a "vegetarian" spring roll earlier in the day, which, after half of one I realised was full of pork.

So off we went, me and a dozen or so backpackers, some of which were uncomfortably keen on the killing part. Now, I am not sure if it was the snakes blood, the bile, the crushed up bones topped onto snake meat spring rolls, the fried snake skin or the 12 shots of home brew rice wine, but something went wrong! I thought I would be safe as I wasn't one of the guys who had actually eaten the snakes heart from its body! Now, I am pretty sure all the vomit landed in the toilet bowl, but given I had no idea where I was, I can't exactly be sure. I don't think the English lesson I was trying to give some young girl in the kitchen of a noodle hut was as successful as her confused Grandmother would have liked. Alas, a ride on the back of some random guys motorbike later and I was safe in my bed, preparing for a monster headache the next day, which duly arrived right on cue!

Fortunately, the proceding few days have been blisfully absent of such adventures as I have spent my time relaxing, eating noodles, exercising and preparing for reality, ie trying to get a job. All this coupled with cruising around a pretty interesting, albeit absolutely manic city. Seriously, lay off the horns guys, you aren't getting anywhere any faster by tooting them incessantly. I thought Central America was bad....

Hanoi by night

Scooter anyone?

So there we have it - in 2 days, on my birthday for that matter, I will embark on a beautiful 3 flight, 30 hour journey back to Vancouver. I guess I better go and buy a decent book for that one! Can you imagine if we actually added up the hours we spent getting to airports, waiting, flying, waiting etc, how much of our lives we have dedicated to this? While waiting for my flight last week I made a quick tally of the amount of flights I have been on in the past 6 years and the total was over 105. That's a lot of time that could have been spent doing constructive things I guess, but for me, it's all worth it.

So, thanks for reading and I hope you have enjoyed following my journeys. I will leave you all with something to ponder.......

A piece on travels...

So the question lingers....why do we travel? Where is the need, the drive, the obsession? Some like to fly around and take photos out of tour buses, other's like to volunteer and stay put in one location and others like to deprive themselves of decent food, hot water and sleep as they sweat up mountains on bicycles. What is it that we are trying to achieve? Who is doing it more "intimately" or who is getting more "in touch with the culture"? I can't answer any of this outside of my own opinions, which seem to change daily. All I know is that it is not always romantic and wonderful. As I wrote this, I sat alone out the front of a wooden shack with a squat toilet, no hot water and a rock hard bed to sleep on. I can certainly envisage better places to be. But for me, it's the little experiences and the people you meet that make an experience. I have enjoyed this journey so much based purely on the company I kept and the people I met in the process. These interactions, while fleeting, are what will stay in my memory more than the nice scenery or the pretty temples.

Sure, I can be by myself and sometimes that's fun, but it's the sharing of the experiences that truly makes me smile. Seeing another culture in as raw a form as possible is something that I treasure also. Watching kids play and smile and be as happy as you could imagine kids to be without all the toys, conveniences and crap of our lives helps keep me balanced and keep my priorities in check. While I certainly don't detract from those who prefer to spend their rest time laying on beaches in resorts, I have enjoyed my mode of travel over the past 7 months. Am I "engaging in the culture" anymore, or immersing myself anymore than the tour bus groups? Who knows really.

A wise man once told me that to be truly engrossed in a culture, to truly understand how people live and operate, surely a few days or weeks will never suffice, regardless of how you do it. That takes years, sometimes decades to achieve that type of connection and intimacy. This is something that is hard for me to dispute, as living in Canada has certainly not made me Canadian. I would like to think that I understand the way of life a little bit, but I still feel like as much as a tourist as I did when I first arrived years ago (except now I say cell phone instead of mobile phone). That being said, the little snapshots we get as we travel around, whether at home or abroad, shape our opinions and thoughts on matters that are transferrable to our daily lives and happiness. And for me, the more I can expose myself to, as intimatly as possible, the better. Although, I am looking forward to decent food, a hot shower and comfortable bed....
　　
　

Trip stats

Riding days: 11

Total Riding time: 44 hours

Total Distance: 767 km

Hot showers: 2

Flat tires: 0

Stacks: 1 (Tim)

Noodle Soups:: Countless

"Do you know anywhere to buy water around here?" "go shop there" "hmm, that's far, anywhere closer?" "it ok - take motorbike".....and so describes the wonderful and warm people of Laos. Of course this is just one example of many, depicting the hospitality we have received on our bicycle adventures. But we will get to that, let's re-wind to where we left off.

So after several frustrating delays, we finally arrived in Bangkok, at the lovely hour of midnight. Our plans for a few beers in the city had thus been thwarted as we were due back at the airport in the morning to catch our next flight to Laos. Oh well, cheap hotel and early night was the only option. Arriving in Louang Prabang, Laos, the following day bought with it some emotions and feelings that have been missing of late. Real and true excitement. For the first time in a while during my travels, as we were winding through the dusty back streets from the airport, I had that "buzz" that I so love when you are travelling. The new sights, sounds and smells of a country I have not yet visited. Further excitement was in order as our travelling party consisting of father Graham, brother Ross, sister in law Cristine, nephew Tallin and stand in political and current affairs advisor, Chris, had arrived one day ahead of schedule and where there to meet and greet Tim and I as we rolled into scenic Luang Prabang.

The steeds ready for action

Street food - Luang Prabang

The team had just completed 400km of cycling and were having a few rest days before we headed off on our next leg. This was the perfect chance for Tim and I to try and catch up on some fitnes so we weren't completely lagging behind. A quick 30km warm up ride turned into a 60km ride (read the map better next time please Tim), leading out to some beautiful waterfalls where we could have a quick dip. If only every cycling day could end like this.....

Best way to end a cycle

Too soon for comfort though, we were out of the water and back on the bikes, leaving the relatively comfortable amenities and broad food options of L.P behind, for the open road. Graham had finished his leg and sadly we parted ways as we rolled out into the warm sunhine. 99km for our first day of riding was a good introduction for the rigors of the road ahead over the following 2 weeks. With sore hands from continous high 5's from local village kids as we cycled through, and quickly developing saddle sores, we found a nice little guest house in a quiet village for our first night out. Cold bucket washes and squatting toilets were a sign of things to come.

One thing that quickly became obvious is the amount of excitement and curiosity one little white boy can cause. It's understandable to see locals interested in white people cycling through town, let alone 5 of us, then compound that with one skinny legged older brother towing a trailer with their 18 month son and you have what can only be described, as pure craziness. As the days rolled on and the road became more remote, so increased the curiosity in the little prince. The kids would play with him, the elders hold him and laugh and almost everyone seemed to want to have a look down his pants to confirm his gender. Tallin in his good nature took it all in his stride and I can hardly imagine a better introduction to the world around us than these types of trips for a little man.

Tallin and friends

Kids playing by the river - day 3

So the legs kept pumping and the hills kept getting bigger as we entered Northern Laos. After day 2 there would be no hot water, phone or internet access or electricity in many cases, until 7 days later when we exited the mountains. The effect of this was excellent. The lack of power in some villages was a compelling case study in the way we all conduct our lives. Far from put out by the lack of conveniences, most people went about their daily business as usual and the lack of lighting meant more people sitting around fires sharing a laugh, some food and stories, while their children chased chickens and ran about. This all had a great impact on me as, dragged away from my modern conveniences and routine, I was thrown into a new world. One night we took the opportunity to sit around a fire with some local women in a tiny little village of a few hundred people. Far from understanding what each other were saying, the strange whiteys on bikes managed to sign a whole conversation and have a small connection with the way the locals live. As we ride about, passing through towns, these little connections are what makes the trip. The local ladies were more than happy to share their fire and some warm deep fried treats (still unsure what they are), let Tim and I take their motorbike for a joyride before we chatted and relaxed the night away.



Enjoying some fried treats and a warm fire



To steal from Ross' blog..." This kid fascinated me. While the others in the village were fooling around in the river, he stood by himself commited to his fishing task. We didn't see him catch anything in 30 minutes but he was focussed to the job at hand. Amazing for a kid his age. "

The riding meanwhile, was superb. Rolling hills turned into steep mountains and most mornings consisted of an early start, a quick breakfast and then 2 hours of solid climbing. Reaching the top of a mountain pass after 2 hours of hard work, only to realise you have covered 18km, can sometimes affect the psyche a bit. But the group was positive and were all loving the challenge of the climb. Besides, what goes up must come down and all climbs were rewarded with very fast, very flowing and sometimes very cold, descents. Dropping 1,000m over a few short km's while hitting speeds of over 60km/hr is more to my liking! One section wasn't as friendly to Tim however as I rounded a bend at full speed only to see him ahead of me waving me to stop. The flap of skin hanging off his hand was all I needed to see to realise what had happened. Our first fall for the trip - a fast and scary one I am sure, but he was lucky to get out of it with just a few cuts and bruises (and maybe shattered confidence).

Can't help but feel he should of had gloves on...

While we all enjoyed the remoteness of our route, one of the challenges posed was the inaccessibilty of food, well decent foods to fuel multiple hours of riding day after day. I am convinced that after leaving Asia, I will not put another bowl of noodle soup in front of me for quite some time. 3 of the touring party learnt a very important lesson in nutrition on day 5. After leaving the village with little more than a hard boiled egg and an apple in our bellies, we started pedalling in the vague assumption that a noodle hut would present itself when the time was right for breakfast.....how wrong we were. For the better part of 66km, we found no such luck. Villages were a distance apart and when we did roll through one, there was little more than tiny corner stores selling stale sweets to keep us going. So as we watched in envy of the 2, more experienced bike travellers (Ross and Cristine) eating their pre packed cereal and powdered milk, we soldiered on until finally reaching our destination in the mid afternoon. Fortunately, we found a decent restaurant to refuel and then a nice place to stay in a town.

This would be our home for 36 hours as we were giving ourselves a well earned rest day. Bocce, poker and bathing in the local hot springs were the highlight of this section. I can assure you that as we rode out after our rest day, we were well and truly stocked up on whatever food and treats we could find before heading into more remote areas. Lesson learnt.

Tim enjoying the first hot shower for some time

Up and up we went into seemingly endless mountain chains. The riding was challenging but fun, the tough climbs made easier by chatting to whoever you were riding with and the downhills exhillirating. One of my favourite moments happened on day 7 as we were high in the mountains, half way through a cold and hard day when we cruised into a small highland village. I heard some music blaring from improvised speakers running off an old diesel generator, tables were set and food was being served - the reason.....who knows! All I knew is that it looked like a great place to stop and observe. So there I was, alone and waiting for the team to arrive when some locals started whispering and staring....then in comes Tim and more staring happens, but it wasn't until the little white baby came rolling triumphantly into town in his luxury suite did the real commotion start. The crowd gathered and cheered as we removed Tallin and let him run around. It was as if they had never seen a white baby before.



The unveiling of a Prince...



Pretty soon the village leader, or whoever he was, was inviting us into this grand celebration. We were convinced that it was a wedding but upon reflection, there may have been no specific reason at all for the festivities except to gather the village and have a good time on a Friday afternoon. It was a really great and honourable experience to be so warmly invited into complete strangers lives and pretty soon we were being "forced" to drink a few beers along with a few shots of rice wine. Both of which made the afternoon descents that little bit more interesting.

Tim and I found our way quickly to the beer and rice wine

After a rest and a refuel we were off again the following day, climbing and climbing again. This time, it was a lesson in cold weather that the group was to learn. Now, I was pretty certain that coming to Asia at this time of year was going to extend my endless summer - I certainly didn't expect 8 degrees and misty as we made countless mountain passes. As prepared as always, Tim also failed to anticipate the weather and didn't have any gloves, hats or even a jumper. Until of course he managed to buy a beautifully striking pink floral number which made him easily visible to oncoming traffic! After reaching one high pass, we all stopped to re heat with noodles and hot drinks, only to find a few locals sitting around an inviting fire. Sensing our situation, they quickly and warmly invited us over and pretty soon we were roasting our toes over a fire and sharing a laugh and hot tea with our new friends. Another great moment of the trip that really illustrated for me, the essence of travelling by bike. When I first followed the crazy older brother's ideas and decided to cycle around places, it was with thoughts of these types of experiences in mind. True, I enjoy the exercise, the challenge and the random adventures and sure, we have to work pretty hard to get them, riding all day and such, but they are experiences that we are lucky enough to be absorbed in bought about by our mode of transportation (and maybe some extra confidence in a large group dynamic) alone.

Warming up with some friendly locals



The usual lunch on lookers



Local weaving

The master bike mechanic

So after a few more climbs and descents and a fast, rolling ride into the next town, the trip was quickly coming to an end, for some. After 900km of cycling, Ross, Cristine, Tallin, Chris and Tim (500km for Tim), were to depart on their journey back to civilisation, leaving one long bearded lonely soldier to continue the battle. A rest day, far too much Indian food and some email access later, it was time to wave goodbye to the happy group and continue the journey alone. What a great group trip we had, a short time, but a really great one, made especially intimate and connecting by the experiences we had, the sights we saw and the endless, mindless banter we engaged each other in. It just goes to show that it doesn't matter where you are or what you are doing, it's the company you keep that really makes you smile from deep inside.

The group bids farewell

It was a sad cycle out of town after saying goodbye to family and friends again as I made my way along the quick flat section that lay ahead. When I will be back in Australia to see family again is anyone's guess and it's always hard saying goodbye and again limiting the intimacy of each other's lives. But such is life and I am on my own journey, starting with 270 more km's over a very ambitious 3 days. The location of hotels along the remaining section made the logisitcs tricky as I could only do 45km on the first day, leaving a healthy 215 to do over 2 long and sweaty days.

Top of one of my final climbs

PB for a days work

The following day resulted in my own personal best (worst) day of exercising - 135km in 7:45 including several steep climbs. It's amazing though how the smile and wave from a few kids can keep your spirits high. In one particular village, the kids were either big Doors fans or had only learnt a few words of English as they all shouted "Hello - I love you". By the time I rolled into a small village on top of a large climb at 5pm, it was definitely time for rest! A nice bowl of fried rice and a beer later and I was well and truly fast asleep by 8pm! So this only left one more day, 75km of rolling hills back into Luang Prabang. Although the legs were sore, the spirits were high as I was coming to the end of a very rewarding journey. Celebrating with a beer and pizza, it is now time to have a few days rest before flying to Vietnam for two weeks on my long way home to Vancouver.

Adios to G'day

Greeted by a screaming boy for, through his own poor behaivour, was being denied the gift of a bag of skittles from a pair of embarrassed parents, I slumped depressed into an airline lounge seat. Seeing that boy stretched out, kicking and screaming and marching aorund in offensively loud protest of the sugar deprival, was a sharp reminder that i am re-entering the world I now live. Only days before, I had watched village children of his age, with loads of timber strapped to their young backs, trudge up hillsides on a routine and daily delivery of firewood to their households. Remembering those children, hunched over and practising a routine that they would unknowingly continue for 60 more burdomesome years and watching their bright smiles as they did so, compared to the well dressed sugar baby in front of me was a stark reminder of the chasm of wealth, education and living conditions that exist in our world.

Space....it seems that in our world of high personal demands, the comfort of our own circle of space is both
revered and expected. I noticed as every second seat was taken in the airline lounge, with people trying not to sit directly adjacent to each other until all other options were exhausted. How dare we not feel comfortable sitting within elbows reach of our temporary neighbour. How many buses did i get where not only did you share a seat, you quite often shared half of a part of a seat. Personal space is a different concept.

So welcome to culture shock....months travelling around Central America has certainly skewed the lens in which i view life through. Enjoying a relaxing 3 weeks in a lakeside village, spending time with special people was the perfact end to a wonderful introductory trip in this part of the world. The journey home to Australia proved to be an arduous one, as my luck, or lack there of, continued with airlines. Cancelled flights, missed connections and delays all heightened the anticipation of arriving home for the first time in a year to a pair of surprised parents. I still can't bring myself to talk about the bus journey(s) from Atitlan in Guatemala to Mexico to make my connections. I will just say though, that just because it hasn't rained for 3 months, doesn't mean it won't monsoon while you are sitting helpless ona  bus with your luggagge and CARDBOARD box containing your bicycle sits precauriously on top........

Quick visit to Pamela and her new puppy in Mexico on the way home

So home I went. There really is nothing like arriving back to where you are most familar. Surrounded by familar and loving voices, hugs and words, it truly makes a man feel wonderful about life. Home felt more like home this time too which was nice. Busy as usual, the month flew by with already fading memories of time spent surfing, spending time with quality family and friends and celbrating others' milestones as I reconnected with people who are so important in my life.

Celebrating Warfey's wedding

The family tribe

With itchy feet, a sore head and slightly depressed liver, it is time to get moving again now. So here I sit, somewhere between Melbourne and Bangkok, bound for my next little adventure. 2 weeks cycling around Laos with brother number 1, sister in law, nephew and 2 friends promises to be another great experience for me. anoither new adventure for me awaits, as I have only seen asia in passing for 1 week many years ago.

Immersing myself in the culture this time, on bikes, with some great people and experienced travellers, promises to be an eye opening experience. So break out the noodles and tofu, cause here i come!
Following this is another 2 weeks of unplanned adventures before making my triumphant return to my adopted home of vancouver (hopefully minus the 3 christmas kg i have adopted). Apparently I need to get back to reality at some point.....we'll see how that goes.

Living Guate style

So there I stand again, with the same confused look on my face, somewhere between boredom and acceptance, as my new host explains something to me in Spanish. It’s only a 5’ by 4’ rectangle after all – what can possibly warrant us standing in the doorway for more than a moment. But I oblige to the customary questions and looking at the bed and room before agreeing to accept my new home. You see, this won’t just be another lodging for me, for there has been so very many over the last 5 months, this will be a home for me – for a few weeks at least. Mine and our first time staying with a local family, in a very rural and tranquil village on the shores of Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.



Melissa with her 2 helpers



Repairing one victim of the incident

After my hospital escapades and a quiet few days recovering in a hostel, we agreed that I indeed fell in quite a fortunate part of the country, on our descent to the lakeside village of San Marcos - a beautiful, sunny, quiet and traditional village that sits on the shores of Central America’s deepest and arguably most beautiful lake, flanked by 3 volcanoes and ridges of mountains stretching into the distance. So I guess if I had to choose where to dismount my bike so gracefully and thus be compounded to rest, this wasn’t a bad place to do it.

View of the lake from the hillside

So for half the price of all other accommodations in town, our new host Patty, along with her 2 excited children, friendly husband, Mayan sauna in the yard, assortment of chickens and one hungry dog, was happy for us to rent one of her spare rooms. Mud brick homes, dirt laneways and the clap of tortillas being made by smiling local women characterized this part of town. Up on a hill in a neighborhood and a short stroll to the “centre of town”, we were excited to immerse ourselves in Guatemalan culture for a few weeks while we took some Spanish lessons and taught some local kids English (or at least tried to). Having access to our own kitchen was going to be a treat right from the outset as we decreased our dependence on restaurants which varied between too expensive and delicious or cheap and rice, eggs and beans. Time to hit the fresh veg and fruit market and tune up my cooking skills again!

View from the dock before boarding our daily boat

Our adopted helper

Travelling and living in Guatemala…..a 2 word synopsis.

Having now spent a total of 2 months travelling, cycling and now living in beautiful and crazy Guatemala, I will try and surmise the experience.

2 words – Noise and Time……this is how I describe Guatemalan culture as succinctly as possible.

Noise…..where to start, from the buzz of tuk tuk taxis, the roar of diesel powered chicken buses ascending high mountain passes, the incessant hooting of horns for unknown purposes to un comprehensibly loud music blaring from any device unfortunate enough to plug into a sound system, the noise doesn’t stop, EVER.

Now having the pleasure of living with a family, we also have the joy of waking up to a variety of charming alarms. The cackle of roosters at insane times (I counted 12 crows per minute this morning as I lay awake), the chorus of local dogs singing to each other all night, the radio wars of Christmas/rave/church/ballad music at all hours of the day and my personal favourite – fire crackers – any time, any place, there is always fire crackers….this is all before the alarm goes off to get us up and ready for our Spanish classes. Now I am not complaining, for every experience is just that, an experience, I just cannot get in my head the complexity, variety and diversity of all the sounds that abuse my sensory system daily.

It confuses me to say the least, people’s reactions to all of this, but more of that shortly.

This brings me to time…..a simple word, so eloquently used to convey a sense of need, urgency and significance to all of life’s details, both small and large. What time is lunch, what time is it, what time do you finish, what time will you be homes……no-one can argue that time plays an important role in their daily lives. Time is, well, just not important here. At all. Ever. It’s crazy really, the lack of time being a bounding constraint on social and business matters. If people are late, they are late. If the bus doesn’t run on time, it doesn’t run on time. No problem, no concern. If the store is closed, then so be it. No big deal. The striking variance between how our North American culture values time and how it is of such utter insignificance here borders on comical. But guess what – everything still works – late, but it works. There is no rush, no hustle and bustle, no urgent running for this and that and shockingly, everyone still smiles. Who would have guessed that….

However, as charming and alluring the complete separation from the importance of time can be, it can also be, let’s face it, bloody infuriating at times. “The bus leaves a few times in the afternoon and a few times in the morning” is not an uncommon response when asking how to get somewhere. If you are in a rush to get around here, or get anything done for that matter, than forget it, you will go crazy – and sometimes I have. But here’s a trick – don’t be in a rush. Life goes smoother that way. The view on time has a somewhat calming effect (most of the time) and a certain way of slowing down one’s thinking and living, creating a present awareness on all things beautiful and interesting as each day passes by. I could get used to it really.

However, as alluded to previously, what really strikes me are people’s reactions to dealing with both noise and time. It really does confuse me to no end. The two are never better illustrated to me than being on the great people and cultural exhibition that is the public bus. You can be stopped dead in a traffic jam, cars tooting all around, people selling who knows what as they stride down the proverbial market that is the bus’ center aisle, church music blaring into everyone’s ears and a preacher at the front selling who knows what faith to whoever would listen and you know what people’s reaction is? NOTHING. Nada, naught. Everyone just sits and waits, patiently or blindly, like there is no hurry in the world to get anywhere and it’s as if everyone is fitted with internal ear plugs to the sensory overload around them. More than once I have turned to Melissa and questioned, with a typical exasperated and confused tone, why no-one says or does anything. Nothing – everyone just sits there and smiles.

My favourite example was when Quiche and I sat patiently in Honduras as the bus driver pulled over and went into the front yard of his house to play with his kids and get a drink from his smiling wife. Charming I thought, to see the kids during a work day, but wasn’t he forgetting something? The bus full of passengers who had paid to get to where they presumably needed to be? We waited and waited for someone to hang out the window and question his motives but nothing – the bus load just sat there and waited for him to return, like nothing was happening. Now let me ask you this, if you were sitting on a  bus at home and this happened, how long before someone would complain?  How long til someone’s shouts how important it is that he immediately gets to his meeting, or appointment, date or whatever? Is it that in our over padded and coddled environment that we are more important and thus our destination requires a more prompt delivery service, or should we just chill out like the folks in this part of the world? I am sure everyone had to get somewhere that day, it’s just the time they arrived was of less significance. And they were better off for that.

Or, how about a few nights ago, when the local basketball court decided to blast power schmaltz rock through the entire village (we live at least 500m from the court) to the wee hours in the morning in celebration of a win at an inconceivable volume – something that represented the feeling of a marching band playing in our bedroom. The raw sounds interspersed only by the shrieks of roosters and crack of fireworks as we rocked to sleep. I wonder what the neighbours reaction would be at mine or your home to such a display of exuberance. I have had police show up to parties that emitted less auditory assault. Do our precious bodies require more sleep, are the locals used to it or does everyone just accept it as part of life and hence doesn’t let it bother them…..I am still wondering.

One thing is for sure, people are close here, they live close together, work close together and play close together. They walk through each others homes, squash 15 deep into pickup trucks and 3 wide on bus seats without the flutter of an eyelid. And they chat, laugh and smile as they do it. Maybe this closeness brings an acceptance of the noise and tolerance of the concept of time, creating a more laid back culture. Or maybe everyone resents it all, wishes for a “better” life and is brooding with rage underneath their smiling faces……somehow I think it’s the former.

Now excuse me while I reach for my earplugs and set the alarm for – oh, let’s see – the morning sometime….

Launching into the lake

The good, the bad and the bloody

An epiphany struck me lately....maybe it was in an overcrowded rickety bus, jammed in Guatemala City peak hour traffic with ancient piano music blasting in my ear as we fought our way around the city in search for bike boxes. Or maybe it was when I was wincing in pain as my Guatemalan nurse "gently" scrubbed copious amounts of Highway CA-10 out of various limbs. I'm not sure, but the question is still lingering for me......"maybe this cycling thing isn't for me"

But wait, let's back track to where we left off as we try and ascertain the fate of this whole cycling gig.
After a beautiful few weeks in Nicaragua, surfing, cycling flat roads in warm sunshine and marvelling at volcanoes, it was time to head back North. A forgetful 2 days of buses, rip off taxi drivers, endless discussions of why I don't think we should pay extra for bikes and coaches later, we found ourselves in a remote Western part of Honduras, La Esperanza. The highest town in Honduras at over 2,300m, you could have excused us for thinking the next few days of cycling was going to be predominantly
downhill. This little nugget of information was of no comfort to us at all as we climbed up and down the "road" out of town and into the Western Honduran highlands. Bumpy is not an adequate adjective for the first few hours of riding on day 1 and there were more than a few smiles when our track morphed back into some type of bitumen.

Local traffic

Hills and hills

crossing back onto a road



wasn't much conversation happening up this hill

Sweat and sore legs aside, the scenery was spectacular as we dipped and climbed through small villages escorted by smiling children, confused elders and over excited teenage boys eager to test their charm on Melissa.

The change in terrain from Nicaragua was stark. No longer were we greeted with picturesque volcanoes in the distance, flat roads and lakes, replaced by green rolling mountains, coffee plantations and mud shack villages. The incessant honking of car horns that is so prevalent in this part of the world remained though. It was difficult to discrimnate between the encouraging toots and the sleazy toots coupled with kisses and hisses directed at the female half of the group. I like to believe some of the latter were directed at me also....

So after a few hard days cycling, we arrived in Copan, right on the Guatemalan border. Home to ancient Mayan civilisations, the town draws tourists from all around to visit the famed Mayan ruins site. Quite a sight it is, I must say. It was quite surreal to be marching around through the lush green forest and through the remains of an ancient civilisation. Relaxing and memorable, to say the least.

From Wikipedia...

Copán had an occupational history that spanned more than two thousand years, from the Early Preclassic period right through to the Postclassic. The city developed a distinctive sculptural style within the tradition of the lowland Maya, perhaps to emphasize the Maya ethnicity of the city's rulers.^[4]

Mayan ruins

Copan wildlife

Ruins

With that experience in the bank, so was our short foray into Honduras. Next up was a crossing back in familar territory for me, Guatemala.

Again regretting cycling this section as we climbed several hundred meters out of Coban, I was quickly regretting my promise of "all downhill to the border".....we did however get rewarded with some stunning views back over the valley and were eventually rewarded with a very fast descent to the border town where we would pay our fees, get our stamps and continue climbing mountains to our next destination, some 60km away in southern Guatemala. What was turning into a fast and rewarding day took a turn, as Melissa's derailer cable decided to snap. 2 towns, 14 different directions and one very good bike mechanic later, we were back the road and finally made it to town for our first night in Guatemala.

lunch break

And this is where the fun starts again. After a long bus ride, we arrived in Antigua where we planned to stay for one night. The plan was to find a local bike store, get some boxes for our bikes in preparation for shipping, store them and continue on our journey into the Highlands where we would live for a few weeks, volunteering and exploring. Quite simple I thought.....wrong!

After several loops of town we had to bite the bullet and catch a bus back to Guatemala city in order to find our boxes. Although some locals in Antigua were keen to help us "make a box that would work", we decided that the city would be the only place to find the required box. Now, for those who haven't had the pleasure of a crowded chicken bus ride in Guate City, you are not missing anything. Crowded, hot, smelly, bumpy, slow and downright annoying would be the best way to describe it. And that is BEFORE you have 2 massive boxes to load on also. A day I would like to forget....

So with our boxes stored for future use and spirits renewed we were back on the bus and heading to Lake Atitlan, a wonderful volcanic crater lake where we would chill out for a few days, do some riding and then keep heading North. So after a few hours on multiple buses, I decided it was time to jump off and cycle the last 25km or so as I knew it was a really steep downhill.

Now this maybe where my epipany struck me.....Now, we can't be sure of the exact sequence of events, but as we were rolling down towards the lake, descending from 2,300m to around 1,000 over a very short distance and somewhere between "oh" and "shit", I ran into a few issues. My front wheel, who had faithfully been serving me quite well, decided that enough was enough and it was time to leave my bike for a while. This would have been fine.....if I wasn't on the bike at the time and the bike wasn't travelling at a breezy 40 km/hr!!! The force and speed in which I hit the ground was something I haven't been through before and I am thankful that I am still in tact enough to be writing, let alone riding.
It all happened so fast, something like....

''Gee this is a fun and fast section''.......''hmmm, that wobbling is odd''........''why do I have 20 people standing over me asking if I am ok?"".......''why can't I feel my arm?''.......''I hope my bike is ok''.

So there I was, shorts ripped open, bare knees and thigh similarly ripped up, both hands scraped and bloodied, a numb forearm ripped open and with nice big holes in my gore tex jacket wondering what the hell just happened. Luckliy, I guess, I happened to be coming into a town at the time and there were dozens of onlookers keen to help. Thankfully Melissa was there also as I alternated between trying to see if the bike was ok and laying down to avoid vomiting and fainting. Our new best friend, Mr Spanish / English speaker must have thought everything was serious enough because before I knew it I was
in the back of an ambulance bound for the hospital. And that is where my lovely nurse came in.

Now, I don't scrub the toilet very often, but if I had to, I would scrub with more finesse than she used on my open wounds as she told me to "relax"..."lots of road in there" she said in Spanish and she scraped and dug sections of highway out of me. Thankfully her help was soon over and after a quick exam by the doctor, I was on my way.

Guatemalan ER

New shorts will be welcomed for Christmas

All patched up

Casualty list

ripped elbow, forearm, knee, right hand and thumb, left hand, gore tex jacket, favourite shorts, dry storage bag,
ripped up handlebars, water bottle and last but not least.....dignity.

Of course now I couldn't ride and the road the bus takes was closed, so there we were, in the middle of nowhere, in the dark,with a half broken bike and a fully broken me trying to get to the oasis which would be our hotel. We made it...eventually and I have never been so happy to see a warm bed. 9 hours, 2 buses, 1 ride, 1 ambulance, 2 taxi's and a boat and we could finally relax again and plan the rest of our journey to the highlands of Western Guatemala.

So now I sit, dabbing aloe vera in various places and readjusting my bandages, pondering.....is this cycling thing really for me.....

My private nurse hard at work.....