When I was eight years old, I saw the movie Blue Crush. You know, that one where Kate Bosworth lives in Hawaii and surfs in competitions until she gets into an accident and becomes truamatized but eventually finds the inner strength to win Pike in Oahu? Yeah, well ever since I saw that movie, I´ve wanted to learn to surf. There´s just something inherently cooler about a girl who can stand sideways on a board in the middle of the ocean, and Kate Bosworth was certainly no exception. I dreamed about being just like her; listening to Bob Marley in my Volkswagen van with the board rack on top while driving to the beach, getting bleached hair and tanned skin, and being better than every boy in the water. But since I wasn´t even four feet tall yet, I knew I´d have to wait a little while before putting on that wetsuit and paddling through the frigid seas of Half Moon Bay or Santa Cruz.
Three years later, I finally had my chance. I was in Hawaii, on Kate´s turf. It was the perfect setting; the water was warm, the waves were small, my instructor was hot, and my rented board was huge, stable, and spongy. It didn´t take me long to stand up. To this day, I can´t even describe how good that felt. I began to get up every time, smiling and cheering as I rode the baby waves all the way in. My mom clapped from her towel on the sand and my instructors laughed while I continued to show off. I was envisioning myself winning Mavericks and basking in the excitement of my newfound talent when the tide came in and a rogue wave knocked me off my high horse. Suddenly I was underwater, getting pummeled and smacked by a force I´d never felt before. My leash was wrapped around both my ankles, and I felt the weight of my board dragging me into the depths of the Pacific. My lungs burned as my air supply began to run out, and I tried frantically to rise out of the sea. Finally, I felt my foot brush against the ocean floor. I pushed myself upward, realizing with simultaneous relief and embarassment that I had been about two feet away from air the entire time. My eyes burned with saltwater and the fresh cuts on my legs stung. This was not what I´d signed up for. Kate Bosworth had betrayed me. Surfing was no longer a dream, but a sham. Looking around, I said goodbye to the world I had so wanted to be a part of, the world that, I felt, had almost been the cause of my untimely death. Without hesitation, I grabbed my board and marched out of the water, throwing it down in front of my mom. "Return it," I commanded, "I am never doing this again."
Despite my fierce, eleven year old conviction never to return to the waves, I tried about four more times over the years, and each time it was the same. I´d get up, I´d feel confident, I´d think about maybe pursuing it more, and then I would get slammed and upset and kick myself for thinking that I could ever learn to surf. So, when we traveled to San Juan del Sur, I was a little nervous to get back out into the water. The same desire I had when I was eight stuck with me; despite all the times I´d gotten thrashed by the ocean, I still wanted to be Kate Bosworth. Nevertheless, I couldn´t help but wonder if something would happen again to make me give up. Well, the ocean was reliably rough, and I came out of the water with a rash on my stomach, bruises on my hips, and arms that felt like lead, but the difference this time was that I couldn´t wait to get back out and try again. So, for a couple days in San Juan, I rented a board and kicked it in the baby waves, standing up almost every time and getting back in the water even when I fell. I don´t know what changed this time, but for some reason I wanted to keep going despite the fact that I felt inches away from death. I don´t know if I´ve gotten better at surfing or better at coping, but something has definitely changed. Maybe while we´re in Puerto Viejo, I´ll rent a board and go out once more. And if I don´t, I can always console myself with the fact that the gold coast will always be waiting for me if I ever get the urge to be like Kate again.
Emily
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
The Truth About Turtles
Hey everybody. Maya here, broadcasting live from the beautiful beachside town of Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, our chosen free-travel destination. Our week on la Playa Camronal was harder than most of us expected, with killer bugs and long, often fruitless nights of turtle work. A fair ammount of our time during the day was spent relaxing, and the rest performing various seemingly meaningless tasks-- we picked up garbage on the beach, gathered wood into a huge pile (a tedious, almost depressing activity, seing as how no matter how much wood we moved, it never seemed to make a difference on the stick-littered beach), and carving steps into a hillside (we just can't seem to keep away from shovelling mud, can we?). At night, we split up into groups and took three hour shifts. The schedule was like this.
9-12.........it was pretty likely that you would see at least a few turtles, and more than a few tourists.
12-3.........you probably saw the most turtles during this shift, although you were barely conscious enough to realize you were no longer dreaming when you did.
3-6...........yes, you heard me. 3-6AM. this shift we spent asleep face-down in the sand. Because turtles never lay eggs during high-tide, these three hours were totally uneventful.
We rotated through shifts, each group laughing and complaining in turn about the turtles they saw, and the sand they ate. My first night out, I was lucky enough to have the 9-12 shift. My group and I were astonished when, after what felt like an eternity of patrolling the beach, we came upon two turtles, each preparing to lay eggs. They were small-ish, but strang in the darkness. Apparently, turtles go into a trance when they lay their eggs. For this reason, we were expected to dig underneath the turtles' backsides, stick our gloved hands underneath them, and let the creatures lay their cold, sticky eggs into our fingers. This experience was totally surreal. The turtles made soft, gasping sounds while spurting amniotic fluid and what looked like ping-pong balls from their cloecas (I think this is how you spell it. A cloeca is the one hole that animals such as turtles, frogs and chickens use for all sexual and excretory purposes). After we collected and counted the eggs, we burried them inside a small structure used as a turtle sanctuary on the beach, and watched the turtles struggle back to the sea.
A few times, we got to witness baby turtles digging their way out of the sand and scrambling towards the ocean. The babies were adorable, tiny and quick. We held them once or twice while they tried frantically to escape. At times we were also required to unearth the eggshells as well as the unhatched eggs from their holes in the sanctuary. We were directed to pop open the unhatched eggs, and record our findings. Often times, the eggs were full of lumpy yellow custard. Sometimes, the insides resembled a round pinkish organ, tumor-like in its underdeveloped state. The saddest thing I saw, during our week at the turtle project, was a perfectly-formed baby turtle inside an unhatched egg, literally hugging its placenta.
We were all exhausted and dirty when we rode away from Playa Camronal in the back of pickup trucks at 3AM, telling ghost stories and falling asleep on eachothers' shoulders. After what I believe was 10 hours of travel on busses and in taxis, we arrived in Puerto Viejo de Talamanca.
So here we are, in the land of dredlocks, smoothies, and reggae, riding our rented beach cruisers and soaking up the sun. We failed to celebrate Thanksgiving, seing as how it is more than difficult to prepare a holiday dinner on a bus. But we were all thinking of our families yesterday, a wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving.
12 days left, and until then, know that we are all happy, healthy, and livin it up!
We hope you are all doing well.
*Shout out to my mommy! I miss you.
9-12.........it was pretty likely that you would see at least a few turtles, and more than a few tourists.
12-3.........you probably saw the most turtles during this shift, although you were barely conscious enough to realize you were no longer dreaming when you did.
3-6...........yes, you heard me. 3-6AM. this shift we spent asleep face-down in the sand. Because turtles never lay eggs during high-tide, these three hours were totally uneventful.
We rotated through shifts, each group laughing and complaining in turn about the turtles they saw, and the sand they ate. My first night out, I was lucky enough to have the 9-12 shift. My group and I were astonished when, after what felt like an eternity of patrolling the beach, we came upon two turtles, each preparing to lay eggs. They were small-ish, but strang in the darkness. Apparently, turtles go into a trance when they lay their eggs. For this reason, we were expected to dig underneath the turtles' backsides, stick our gloved hands underneath them, and let the creatures lay their cold, sticky eggs into our fingers. This experience was totally surreal. The turtles made soft, gasping sounds while spurting amniotic fluid and what looked like ping-pong balls from their cloecas (I think this is how you spell it. A cloeca is the one hole that animals such as turtles, frogs and chickens use for all sexual and excretory purposes). After we collected and counted the eggs, we burried them inside a small structure used as a turtle sanctuary on the beach, and watched the turtles struggle back to the sea.
A few times, we got to witness baby turtles digging their way out of the sand and scrambling towards the ocean. The babies were adorable, tiny and quick. We held them once or twice while they tried frantically to escape. At times we were also required to unearth the eggshells as well as the unhatched eggs from their holes in the sanctuary. We were directed to pop open the unhatched eggs, and record our findings. Often times, the eggs were full of lumpy yellow custard. Sometimes, the insides resembled a round pinkish organ, tumor-like in its underdeveloped state. The saddest thing I saw, during our week at the turtle project, was a perfectly-formed baby turtle inside an unhatched egg, literally hugging its placenta.
We were all exhausted and dirty when we rode away from Playa Camronal in the back of pickup trucks at 3AM, telling ghost stories and falling asleep on eachothers' shoulders. After what I believe was 10 hours of travel on busses and in taxis, we arrived in Puerto Viejo de Talamanca.
So here we are, in the land of dredlocks, smoothies, and reggae, riding our rented beach cruisers and soaking up the sun. We failed to celebrate Thanksgiving, seing as how it is more than difficult to prepare a holiday dinner on a bus. But we were all thinking of our families yesterday, a wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving.
12 days left, and until then, know that we are all happy, healthy, and livin it up!
We hope you are all doing well.
*Shout out to my mommy! I miss you.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Greetings yet again from the city of Leon as we wind up week two in this beautiful ciudad de Nicaragaua. Youve already heard from Becca--alright from the open door to my right i just witnessed my first Nicaraguan ¨ding dong ditch¨. I hope everyone else can find this as ammusing as I am, proof that where ever you are life is more similiar then different (atleast in my opinion), and kids will be kids. Monday night was quite an adventure for Ernest, Liza, and I, we set out to get our ears pierced at a local tienda of sorts (cute i know), each adding an additional hole to our lobes (in Ernest´s case 2)..sorry for any families i may be prematurely releasing this news to. come to think of it i should probably buy Ernie some alcohol swabs and help him keep those new studs clean. Wednesday, Eliza and I had the pleasure of killing or our own lunch! honestly, if i could kill my lunch everyday i would. we came home to about 20 crabs scampering around our kitchen, the result was a few knives, hammers, and fresh crab and frijole soup the next day. DELICIOUSO!I cant speak for everyone but Eliza and I are more then thankful for our new family and friends we´ve made here in Leon. our family for lack of a better word is the shit, and we cant wait to stay in touch with our new brothers Carlos and Ryan. My almuerzo calls from down the street. enjoy the pics and now all your chicklings are safe, happy, and lovin the constant sweat mustaches dripping from our upper lip. hasta pronto! (maybe too pronto)
the amazing murals surrounding Leons streets im lucky enough to look at every day
SAND BOARDINGGG
Eliza and I at the beach.. and remind me how im getting college credit for this??
no tears..
our family cookin crabs in the kitchen.
thanks! -Ella
thanks! -Ella
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tienes Que Caminar
Sup guys, it´s Emily. Again. In light of us having about a month left in Central America, I thought I´d share an important lesson that I´ve learned the hard way: that no matter where you are, who you´re with, or what you´re doing, you have to walk.
It seems simple, the act of walking. You put one foot in front of the other, you move yourself forward through space and time. The idea isn´t what´s complicated. It´s the sheer physical effort. And I know I sound like the poster child for Michelle Obama´s campaign against childhood obesity, but seriously guys, walking is HARD.
I hadn´t used my feet as a mode of transportation since all my friends got their licenses junior year. So it´s not even necessary for me to mention that I was utterly distraught by the trek, which turned out to be almost completely uphill, just as I´d feared. However, after it was over I felt wave after wave of relief crash over me; I convinced myself that we were done walking. We had to be. As usual, I was wrong.
Our week in Chicacnab brought about a different kind of walking. The muddy kind. We sloshed and squelched through two miles of sludge, only to arrive at a house sandwiched between two equally slippery hills. I sighed and resolved to make the week go by without falling down one of the increasingly peligroso hills. The only thought that kept me going was there was no way I´d have to walk like that again after Chicacnab. Once again, I was incorrect.
We arrived in Semuc Champey dead tired, but happy. We couldn´t wait to jump into the limestone pools and actually swim for the first time in months. Our tour guide told us yes, you guys can swim, but first we´re gonna check out this incredible view that takes forty five uphill, sweaty minutes to get to. At this point I just laughed as I was reminded again that nothing ever goes as suspected in Central America.
So this past weekend when we went volcano boarding, you can imagine my total lack of surprise when we were told that we would have to walk up Cerro Negro, that it would take about an hour, and that we´d get just as dirty and sweaty as we had been for the past two months. But as I slowly began my trudge uphill and felt that familiar burning sensation in my thighs, my mind didn´t immediately jump to how awful everything was and how I would prefer to be sitting in the shade with jugo de piña. I´d moved past denial and into acceptance of the fact that in order to have fun, I would have to do a little bit of work, and that eventually, I´d be able to stop walking, stand still, and enjoy the incredible vistas that seem to follow us everywhere. And I would say something cliche about how the same thing applies to life and how everyone has to work to enjoy things, but I think that you´re all smart enough to detect the metaphor here. Besides, it´s getting dark, and I need to walk home.
It seems simple, the act of walking. You put one foot in front of the other, you move yourself forward through space and time. The idea isn´t what´s complicated. It´s the sheer physical effort. And I know I sound like the poster child for Michelle Obama´s campaign against childhood obesity, but seriously guys, walking is HARD.
I hadn´t used my feet as a mode of transportation since all my friends got their licenses junior year. So it´s not even necessary for me to mention that I was utterly distraught by the trek, which turned out to be almost completely uphill, just as I´d feared. However, after it was over I felt wave after wave of relief crash over me; I convinced myself that we were done walking. We had to be. As usual, I was wrong.
Our week in Chicacnab brought about a different kind of walking. The muddy kind. We sloshed and squelched through two miles of sludge, only to arrive at a house sandwiched between two equally slippery hills. I sighed and resolved to make the week go by without falling down one of the increasingly peligroso hills. The only thought that kept me going was there was no way I´d have to walk like that again after Chicacnab. Once again, I was incorrect.
We arrived in Semuc Champey dead tired, but happy. We couldn´t wait to jump into the limestone pools and actually swim for the first time in months. Our tour guide told us yes, you guys can swim, but first we´re gonna check out this incredible view that takes forty five uphill, sweaty minutes to get to. At this point I just laughed as I was reminded again that nothing ever goes as suspected in Central America.
So this past weekend when we went volcano boarding, you can imagine my total lack of surprise when we were told that we would have to walk up Cerro Negro, that it would take about an hour, and that we´d get just as dirty and sweaty as we had been for the past two months. But as I slowly began my trudge uphill and felt that familiar burning sensation in my thighs, my mind didn´t immediately jump to how awful everything was and how I would prefer to be sitting in the shade with jugo de piña. I´d moved past denial and into acceptance of the fact that in order to have fun, I would have to do a little bit of work, and that eventually, I´d be able to stop walking, stand still, and enjoy the incredible vistas that seem to follow us everywhere. And I would say something cliche about how the same thing applies to life and how everyone has to work to enjoy things, but I think that you´re all smart enough to detect the metaphor here. Besides, it´s getting dark, and I need to walk home.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
¡Spanish School, Sandboarding y Más!
¡Hola amigos y familia! This is Becca reporting from a scorching hot but beautiful León. It has been a very busy week, what with adjusting to a new location, but I think everyone has officially settled in and is having a great time!
Like Rachael said, we began our time in León by meeting our families. Unlike the homestay situation in Xela, the majority of us are staying two to a family. This definitely makes it easier to communicate and at least attempt to understand what our families are saying. We spent Sunday getting to know our families, eating gallo pinto (mixed rice and beans- the traditional meal of Nicaragua) and exploring the city a little, as well as preparing for another two weeks of spanish school.
Most of the group had a difficult time starting back up at our spanish school, Casa Dariana. We were all definitely a bit rusty with our Spanish, and we were not prepared to talk in Spanish to a native Spanish speaker for 4 hours straight. To make matters worse, Nicaraguan Spanish is not easy to understand- they talk unbelievably fast and don't pronouce 's' sounds at the end of words. However, all of our teachers were very accomodating and willing to meet us at our respective level.
We begin each day doing "normal" spanish class activities: taking notes, reading article, doing exercises. However, to keep our attention, the teachers often take us on field trips during the second half of class. My favorite field trip was to the Museum of Myths and Legends. The building itself is actually an old prison that they used to hold political prisoners (one of our spanish teachers was actually held there when he was a Sandanista). The museum contains handmade lifesize dolls that each represent a different Nicaraguan myth or legend. One of the more interesting myths was that of "La Chancha Bruja (The Pig Witch)." In this legend, a woman thought her husband was cheating on her, so every night she said an incantation to turn herself into a pig. That way, she could follow her husband when he left the house. Legend says that if a man is cheating on his wife, he will be followed by a black pig, representing La Chancha Bruja. Other activities have included visiting the local cathedral and watching a documentary on the Nicaraguan Revolution.
Since we didn't have class today (it is Saturday after all), the group took a trip to one of the local volcanoes to go sandboarding. We got up bright and early (7:45 to be exact) to take our favorite form of transportation, the open-backed truck, to the volcano Cerro Negro. Cerro Negro is a beautiful volcano covered with black volcanic ash (hence the name) and situated amoung several other volcanoes, including Telica and El Hoyo. With our sandboards strapped to our back, we hiked about 45 minutes up the volcano. On the way to the top, we stopped to see a large crater and the sulfur formations that covered the crater. Once we finally made it to the top, we put on our gear consisting of a bright green jumpsuit, goggles and gloves (we looked like a hazmat crew), and rode down the mountain two-by-two. The ride was exhilirating- we reached speeds of 35 miles per hour! Although the actual ride down the mountain only took about a minute, it was definitely worth the trek up to the top. After a short break, some members of the group decided to go for a second run while the others laid on hammocks back at the rest station. To make a great day amazing, we all received free t-shirts when we returned back to the city!
Tomorrow, we are going to the beach to relax and rejuvinate before we have to go back to school. Hopefully our second week in León will be as exciting and eventful as the first!
Love and verb conjugations,
Becca
PS- At the request of both Meghan and my parents, below are a few photos from the past weeks:
Like Rachael said, we began our time in León by meeting our families. Unlike the homestay situation in Xela, the majority of us are staying two to a family. This definitely makes it easier to communicate and at least attempt to understand what our families are saying. We spent Sunday getting to know our families, eating gallo pinto (mixed rice and beans- the traditional meal of Nicaragua) and exploring the city a little, as well as preparing for another two weeks of spanish school.
Most of the group had a difficult time starting back up at our spanish school, Casa Dariana. We were all definitely a bit rusty with our Spanish, and we were not prepared to talk in Spanish to a native Spanish speaker for 4 hours straight. To make matters worse, Nicaraguan Spanish is not easy to understand- they talk unbelievably fast and don't pronouce 's' sounds at the end of words. However, all of our teachers were very accomodating and willing to meet us at our respective level.
We begin each day doing "normal" spanish class activities: taking notes, reading article, doing exercises. However, to keep our attention, the teachers often take us on field trips during the second half of class. My favorite field trip was to the Museum of Myths and Legends. The building itself is actually an old prison that they used to hold political prisoners (one of our spanish teachers was actually held there when he was a Sandanista). The museum contains handmade lifesize dolls that each represent a different Nicaraguan myth or legend. One of the more interesting myths was that of "La Chancha Bruja (The Pig Witch)." In this legend, a woman thought her husband was cheating on her, so every night she said an incantation to turn herself into a pig. That way, she could follow her husband when he left the house. Legend says that if a man is cheating on his wife, he will be followed by a black pig, representing La Chancha Bruja. Other activities have included visiting the local cathedral and watching a documentary on the Nicaraguan Revolution.
Since we didn't have class today (it is Saturday after all), the group took a trip to one of the local volcanoes to go sandboarding. We got up bright and early (7:45 to be exact) to take our favorite form of transportation, the open-backed truck, to the volcano Cerro Negro. Cerro Negro is a beautiful volcano covered with black volcanic ash (hence the name) and situated amoung several other volcanoes, including Telica and El Hoyo. With our sandboards strapped to our back, we hiked about 45 minutes up the volcano. On the way to the top, we stopped to see a large crater and the sulfur formations that covered the crater. Once we finally made it to the top, we put on our gear consisting of a bright green jumpsuit, goggles and gloves (we looked like a hazmat crew), and rode down the mountain two-by-two. The ride was exhilirating- we reached speeds of 35 miles per hour! Although the actual ride down the mountain only took about a minute, it was definitely worth the trek up to the top. After a short break, some members of the group decided to go for a second run while the others laid on hammocks back at the rest station. To make a great day amazing, we all received free t-shirts when we returned back to the city!
Tomorrow, we are going to the beach to relax and rejuvinate before we have to go back to school. Hopefully our second week in León will be as exciting and eventful as the first!
Love and verb conjugations,
Becca
PS- At the request of both Meghan and my parents, below are a few photos from the past weeks:
Our own architectural marvel at Tikal
The group at The Myths and Legends Museum
Some of the dolls at the museum representing traditional Nicaraguan festivals
Monday, November 1, 2010
Hola from Leon!
Hello Friends and Family, this is Rachael blogging from Leon, Nicaragua. This last week or so has been busy since we left Chicacnab, in the cloud forest that you heard about from Kelley.
From Chicacnab we hiked a couple miles down a muddy slippery mountain side (my feet just did not seem to want to stay under me) then took a bus to Coban where we spent the night, showered the grit and dirt of Chicacnab off of our bodies and treated ourselves to delicious ice cream, grilled cheese and whatever else we fancied.
The next day we got up early and bussed to Semuc Champey, the elvish falls, where we would be spending the night. A bus ride of less than two hours and a bumpy half hour standing in the back of a pickup and we were so happy to feel the warm air as we arrived at our hotel.
It felt like paradise, luscious, humid, tropical paradise. The hotel was set right on the river, made up of grass roofed huts and cocoa trees, big ferns and colorful flowers growing everywhere (plants on top of plants, soft cushy moss, things can not grow fast enough in the tropics), chirping cicadas, toothpick trunked chalky white trees with big billowing donkey ear leaves floating in the thick, velvety air. A little girl walked around selling a bag full of the juiciest, fragrant, bursty mandarins!
After we arrived we put our things in our rooms, grouped back up and headed straight to the falls. First we walked around the park a bit then hiked up to the look out point. The walk to get there was a bit strenuous, there were some frusturated sighs to be heard from people who felt they were being tricked into yet another trekk! The thirty minute hike was up a mix of natural and man made steps to where a look out point is built into the cliffs at the top of the climb. We quickly caught our breath there as the sight of stunning jade pools and lush green jungle rejuvenated us. It looked like the view out of an airplane window, a string of chunky turquoise beads flung haphazardly on the jungle floor.
We headed back down the same way we came up, arriving at the river´s edge. We swam in the first pool, the water cool and refreshing, until our guide beckoned us to the rocks at the edge which we jumped off to enter the second pool.To get to the next pool the jump was higher and scarier, He created little challenges, jump in then swim as far as you can underwater, or try to swim under a log laying on the bottom of the pool, his sturdy hands waiting to guide us through the underwater tunnel, he challenged us to climb up a steep little waterfall, hands groping for a pocket to grab as legs kicked their way up. We reached the last pool, where the group jumped simultaneously off a little rock and walked over to look off the edge at the frothy waters so far below.
We reluctantly climbed out of the wonderful water, trudging our sopping, sweaty, hungry selves out of the park and back to the hotel where we ate lunch and waited to begin our next adventure into the Las Marias caves.
Before entering the caves we were given candles to light our way. We left the daylight behind us as we stepped into the cavernous limestone caves, the cool water at first shocking, we held the candles above our heads as we swam deeper into the dark hallway. It was a feeling like no other, eery but somehow sacred, we fell mostly silent besides the occasional nervous giggle as we followed our guide deeper in. We proceeded to climb ladders, scale the sides of rocks,and jump into a deep pool of water from a perch high up on the slippery cave wall. The limestone walls and ceiling were covered in stalactites and some spots in the cave were very narrow and small, we had to crawl through in order to cross, going to other spots involved ladder and rope climbing or jumping across rocks, climbing the rope was particularly exhilirating. It was impossible to hear through the roar of the waterfall that was pounding over your head, onto your back, but the guide was awesome as usual, instructing where to put our feet, and watching us carefully the whole way up.
On the way back we blew out all the candles, save for a stub at the front of the line and made our way back in darkness. We had the option of lowering ourselves through a little hole to the next level, rushing water pounding our ears, no idea what is through the rabbit hole, blind trust in the strong, sure hands of our guide, reemerging on the other side, treading water in complete darkness for a minute, no idea how large the space we are in is, until the guide emerges with his headlamp and points us in the right direction.
Finally, emerging into the day, now darkening into dusk. The muggy daylight seems alien, we blink our eyes, adjusting to outside the cave. It seems like we could have emerged in another time, like we only would have been half surprised had a dinosaur come rustling out of the forest.
The next day we boarded a bus to Flores expecting a ten hour trip. Travels went smoothly for a while, with most of us sleeping spread out on unoccupied seats, heads on eachothers shoulders, or bouncing against the vibrating bus window. The trip was pretty uneventful until the bus screeched to a stop, in front of us boulders were laid across the road to stop traffic. We were informed it was a protest, people moved the rocks and we were able to pass but it was not long until we were again stopped, a long line of cars stretching in both directions. This time we exited the bus and walked through the protest, we met Ari on the other side where he had flagged down a van that we were able to ride in the rest of the way.
We arrived in our hostel in Flores which was really nice and overlooked the water. We rose bright and early at four the next morning to set out for Tikal. You heard from Em a little about that, including the massive tarantula that some psycho members of my group actually touched. I could actually imagine tricking myself into holding it if I just pretended it was a little rodent or other type of mammal, it was that giant and hairy, alas I still didn´t touch it, just stood there whimpering as I watched my brave and crazy friends let it crawl on their hands and arms.
The ruins of Tikal were gorgeous, the remains of huge temples that tower over 230 feet high in addition to all sorts of other ancient buildings We spent the morning climbing ruins and wondering around Tikal before heading back to enjoy the rest of the day in Flores.
The next morning we headed to the airport where we flew to Nicaragua (a process of 4 different flights in all, each about an hour long)
We spent the next four days in a lovely hostel in Grenada, lounging by the pool, hanging in hammocks and just generally roughing it and living a hard life. We are finally in the sunshine! It is hot and humid, we sleep under a sheet, if that, and are finally starting to get tan! (but yes mom, I will be careful and wear sunscreen)
We are now in Leon, we met out families yesterday afternoon and had our first day of Spanish classes today. We are excited to spend two weeks here! Hope everyone is doing well ! We send our love!
From Chicacnab we hiked a couple miles down a muddy slippery mountain side (my feet just did not seem to want to stay under me) then took a bus to Coban where we spent the night, showered the grit and dirt of Chicacnab off of our bodies and treated ourselves to delicious ice cream, grilled cheese and whatever else we fancied.
The next day we got up early and bussed to Semuc Champey, the elvish falls, where we would be spending the night. A bus ride of less than two hours and a bumpy half hour standing in the back of a pickup and we were so happy to feel the warm air as we arrived at our hotel.
It felt like paradise, luscious, humid, tropical paradise. The hotel was set right on the river, made up of grass roofed huts and cocoa trees, big ferns and colorful flowers growing everywhere (plants on top of plants, soft cushy moss, things can not grow fast enough in the tropics), chirping cicadas, toothpick trunked chalky white trees with big billowing donkey ear leaves floating in the thick, velvety air. A little girl walked around selling a bag full of the juiciest, fragrant, bursty mandarins!
After we arrived we put our things in our rooms, grouped back up and headed straight to the falls. First we walked around the park a bit then hiked up to the look out point. The walk to get there was a bit strenuous, there were some frusturated sighs to be heard from people who felt they were being tricked into yet another trekk! The thirty minute hike was up a mix of natural and man made steps to where a look out point is built into the cliffs at the top of the climb. We quickly caught our breath there as the sight of stunning jade pools and lush green jungle rejuvenated us. It looked like the view out of an airplane window, a string of chunky turquoise beads flung haphazardly on the jungle floor.
We headed back down the same way we came up, arriving at the river´s edge. We swam in the first pool, the water cool and refreshing, until our guide beckoned us to the rocks at the edge which we jumped off to enter the second pool.To get to the next pool the jump was higher and scarier, He created little challenges, jump in then swim as far as you can underwater, or try to swim under a log laying on the bottom of the pool, his sturdy hands waiting to guide us through the underwater tunnel, he challenged us to climb up a steep little waterfall, hands groping for a pocket to grab as legs kicked their way up. We reached the last pool, where the group jumped simultaneously off a little rock and walked over to look off the edge at the frothy waters so far below.
We reluctantly climbed out of the wonderful water, trudging our sopping, sweaty, hungry selves out of the park and back to the hotel where we ate lunch and waited to begin our next adventure into the Las Marias caves.
Before entering the caves we were given candles to light our way. We left the daylight behind us as we stepped into the cavernous limestone caves, the cool water at first shocking, we held the candles above our heads as we swam deeper into the dark hallway. It was a feeling like no other, eery but somehow sacred, we fell mostly silent besides the occasional nervous giggle as we followed our guide deeper in. We proceeded to climb ladders, scale the sides of rocks,and jump into a deep pool of water from a perch high up on the slippery cave wall. The limestone walls and ceiling were covered in stalactites and some spots in the cave were very narrow and small, we had to crawl through in order to cross, going to other spots involved ladder and rope climbing or jumping across rocks, climbing the rope was particularly exhilirating. It was impossible to hear through the roar of the waterfall that was pounding over your head, onto your back, but the guide was awesome as usual, instructing where to put our feet, and watching us carefully the whole way up.
On the way back we blew out all the candles, save for a stub at the front of the line and made our way back in darkness. We had the option of lowering ourselves through a little hole to the next level, rushing water pounding our ears, no idea what is through the rabbit hole, blind trust in the strong, sure hands of our guide, reemerging on the other side, treading water in complete darkness for a minute, no idea how large the space we are in is, until the guide emerges with his headlamp and points us in the right direction.
Finally, emerging into the day, now darkening into dusk. The muggy daylight seems alien, we blink our eyes, adjusting to outside the cave. It seems like we could have emerged in another time, like we only would have been half surprised had a dinosaur come rustling out of the forest.
The next day we boarded a bus to Flores expecting a ten hour trip. Travels went smoothly for a while, with most of us sleeping spread out on unoccupied seats, heads on eachothers shoulders, or bouncing against the vibrating bus window. The trip was pretty uneventful until the bus screeched to a stop, in front of us boulders were laid across the road to stop traffic. We were informed it was a protest, people moved the rocks and we were able to pass but it was not long until we were again stopped, a long line of cars stretching in both directions. This time we exited the bus and walked through the protest, we met Ari on the other side where he had flagged down a van that we were able to ride in the rest of the way.
We arrived in our hostel in Flores which was really nice and overlooked the water. We rose bright and early at four the next morning to set out for Tikal. You heard from Em a little about that, including the massive tarantula that some psycho members of my group actually touched. I could actually imagine tricking myself into holding it if I just pretended it was a little rodent or other type of mammal, it was that giant and hairy, alas I still didn´t touch it, just stood there whimpering as I watched my brave and crazy friends let it crawl on their hands and arms.
The ruins of Tikal were gorgeous, the remains of huge temples that tower over 230 feet high in addition to all sorts of other ancient buildings We spent the morning climbing ruins and wondering around Tikal before heading back to enjoy the rest of the day in Flores.
The next morning we headed to the airport where we flew to Nicaragua (a process of 4 different flights in all, each about an hour long)
We spent the next four days in a lovely hostel in Grenada, lounging by the pool, hanging in hammocks and just generally roughing it and living a hard life. We are finally in the sunshine! It is hot and humid, we sleep under a sheet, if that, and are finally starting to get tan! (but yes mom, I will be careful and wear sunscreen)
We are now in Leon, we met out families yesterday afternoon and had our first day of Spanish classes today. We are excited to spend two weeks here! Hope everyone is doing well ! We send our love!
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