Monday 30 April 2007

Puerto Viejo has crabs

.......there I was minding my own business when this gringo type fecker comes walking straight towards me. I tried getting his attention by waving me big claw at him and nothing he kept coming. Then I tried running out of the way, but you know these damn legs of ours they´ll only carry us sideways and because I can´t see where I´m going I always fall down a hole. I mean you need eyes on top of your head. Thats why I got them. Then this guy, you know what he does he comes and kicks me in the knackers. And do you know what I did, I pinched him with me big claw.........
And that was the most exciting thing that happened to me in Puerto Viejo. This in no way relates to the people or town of Puerto Viejo being rubbish, it just means Montezuma had his revenge on my stomach.
.......cycling is great, yesterday I cycled for 4 hours covering a huge difference from the above mentioned town to Manzanilla. Ambling through dense jungle and across exotic rivers and past monkeys and blonde haired surfers and dreadlocked stoners and drop out 40 somethings from USA looking for a local girl to shag and past empty restaurants begging for high season to return......
......in Panama now, in BOcas Del Toro. I almost prayed as I crossed the bridge into Panama, mainly because it literally is full of big holes an Irishman could be swallyed by.
Costa Rica in one line. Full of package tourist and as an environmentalist I naturally don´t like packaging.
After Adios

Wednesday 25 April 2007

Costa Mucho

....the literal translation for Costa Rica is the Rich Coast. I think this fact has gone to the heads of the tourist industry here. i spent 4 days in Monteverde and went on two trips, each costing around the $40 mark. My budget is $50. I thought it would be tours of the highest quality. But no, a natural history tour of 2 hours duration, where I found little out about natural history and hunted down the elusive quetzal bird for most of it. A shocking waist of money. The second tour was a canopy trek, see below. The price of things here is all due to American package tours. They come here with their dollars and grossly inflate the price of everything. And these are the arrogant Americans, the ones oblivious to what something should cost. They are rude and loud and irk all backpackers. The feckers. I feel Costa Rica will ultimately suffer when Honduras and Nicaragua get their industries in order........
.........a gale blew for most of the night, dissipating cloud from the cloud forest. I lay on my bed, slightly nervous because I booked a canopy trek that day. I thought there was no way it could go ahead with such wind. I was wrong. The van picked me up promptly and drove me the 1 hour drive to the trek. I am not an adrenalin junkie, so this activity is new to me. As the guide strapped me in I felt strangely serene. The first cable was an easy slide 8 metres above ground through densely packed forest. Then I came to the second, some 80 metres above ground and about 45 seconds duration. The camera man went first and got stuck in the middle. He struggle to get himself across. I went next, trying to remember the safety procedures, swimming in my head. ´Just lean back and brake at the end¨was the instruction. As I slid out 80 metres above terra firma the gale picked up and shook me from side to side, causing me to brake unnecessarily. But by sheer positive thinking I made it across, pumped full of adrenalin and screaming madly. ¨that was bleedin rapid.´¨ After 14 more such treks the longest and highest at 1 minute and 150 metres I was only fit for bed. I have the photo to prove it. It cost $6........
.......San Jose, capital, confusing mixmatch of modernity and earthquake ruins, brimming with gringoes in search of the easy life, of 6 foot tall prostitutes with blond hair and an adams apple. There ain´t much here, I leave tomorrow for Puerto Viejo.
Adios

Saturday 21 April 2007

A Friggin American / Lost in Costa Rica

.......San Juan Del Sur, a testament to roughshod planning is infested with Americans. The only place in Nicaragua where prices are in USD and local gringos complain about new developments that they have inadvertently caused. I stirred clear of their shops(second hand book for $17 anyone?) and restaurants and stayed with Martha. She is wonderful. And ate at comedors were the price of a meal costs less than a pint............
A Conversation
......Jo unsteadily asked for her shoe back. An American clad in a pink polo shirt and crowned with a mop of blonde surfer hair insisted on placing them back on her feet. Nick her boyfriend dismissed it as a drunken pass. Jo returned to Nick. The American Caleb came over and started a conversation revolving around Borat. Myself and Julian were present. It went a little like this.
Caleb : I know that Sasha Cohen is a Jewish faggott.
Jo : Is there anything wrong with being Jewish and gay?
Caleb : Look sweetheart, are you saying I`m an anti-semite faggot hater? I hate people who are anti anti semite. They disgust me. Its secular sweetheart. Do you guys understand secularism?
Blank looks.
Caleb : It`s satire darling, you understand satire? Irony? You guys gotta know what irony is? Jonathon Swift? Thats what Borat is.
Me: Nobody said you are an anti semite. Or a gay basher. You are taking it up wrong.
Caleb : Oh sorry I misunderstood. But nobody calls me an anti semite.
Nick : Whats your point?
Caleb : My FUCKING point is
Julian : Calm down man, its only banter.
Caleb : I´m sorry but nobody challenges me like this.......................................
And for the next hour we went around in circles. A testament to America.

COSTA RICA country #5 A journey.
Buses I thought would improve. They did. But the overcrowding did not. I thought because I purchased a ticket for Monteverde, I would be let off there. I was not. So after negotiating a return to the crossroads for Monteverde I found that no buses were going there. In pigeon Spanish I asked if there was a hotel near. There was not. Only in Monteverde. 35kms up a dirt road. I asked the local carpenter for help. A taxi would cost $50. OK I could handle that to get a bed. 40 minutes they said. 40 minutes later no taxi another phone call. 1 hour they said. The sun dipped reddening the ground. I talked football, women, politics. An hour later no taxi and it was dark. I phoned the hostel, $35 and one hour wait. Ok. Better. More half talking. An hour later no taxi, except for the original more expensive one. I let him go. Another phone call. No taxi. Then at 8.30(there for 4 hours so far) the taxi came. It took 2 hours to travel 35kms. Up and down dirt roads. Then the electricity failed and all went black.
In a great place.
After
Take care.

Monday 16 April 2007

Finca Life

,,,....I sat down on a sunwarped garden chair outside a small comida on a dirt road. The road is threatened daily by shadows from two huge volcanoes, Volcan Madera and the perfect cone Volcan Cocepcion. Green flies formed funnels around my head and my ankles were slowly being colonised by ants of every description. Lazy flea infested dogs lay comatose around the table. I ordered my food, beans, rice, salad and recently killed chicken. (I heard it scream) Then I waited. My cohorts waited. The fleas, dogs and until then unseen pigs waited. For one hour we waited. We were the only ones there, but we waited. I passed the time trying to whipe the green fly from the face of the planet, but those buggers are determined. Then our food arrived, served with accompanying extra black flies. It was damn good. This was one of the better places.,,......
......Finca Zapolita, a eco friendly mecca if ever there was one. They don´t even believe in putting a dirt road up to their shacks. With only the above mentioned restaurant nearby I had to cook for myself for the first time in three whole months. EVERYTHING is grown, milked, blended, composted and recycled there. Which means the selection is limited. Very. I changed my diet from beans and rice to pasta and tomato sauce so fresh it was still warm. The best thing is the fresh bread and yoghurt. Everthing else is bland. Yet sleeping in a hammock did teach me those things aren´t as comfortable as the look. Plus you have the added bonus of being attacked by huge insects who seem to be very found of me,
Good bye
Happy Birthday to the Godson Connall. , and the brudder George.

Wednesday 11 April 2007

Grand Granada

......round here the footpaths look like chess boards, checkered either red and black or black and white, round here the heat makes it impossible to do anything strenuous, even breathing creates sweat, round here gringoes have infested all parts, creating another expensive bubble in a third world country, round here the bright coloured colonial buildings radiate at sunset........
Centro Touristico en Granada.
down the promenade towards Lago De Nicaragua, past a yellow cathedral and ,multicoloured buildings I found myself in the Centro Touristico. The pricely sum for entrance was 25 cents. Its hard to be pissed off about 25 cents but this place is rubbish. It consists of a mock castle entrance which resembles something from the middle ages in Europe. The road (the best bit of el centro) is lined with what looks like Butlins idea to a good time town. The buildings are warehouses with hundreds of seats in them and they seem to be unfinished. The most interesting thing was meeting Romano, who described how Filibuster William Walker tried to claim central and South America for the USA. See note below on this true American nut job.
I must go to sweat all my weight away, but hell at least the food is better here.

Saturday 7 April 2007

Nicaragua God Damn

..five minutes after crossing the border a distinctive change in the landscape occurred. Instead of lush green mountains and plains the land burned. Brown grass struggled under stinging sunshine, yearning for a drop of rain. trees are devoid of leaves and dust flows freely in the wind, covering everything in a thick coat. People here mirror the nature of the climate and the landscape. They are hardened from cival wars and foreign led coups. They scrounge around the rich, the rich here are obscenely rich compared to majority. The amount of factory new range rovers trundling past shacks on the road, where people sell a dozen mangoes for 25 cent illuminates the difference............
...TRAVEL IN NICARAGUA......
Tip 1 , Be very careful in bus stations, they are hectic places teeming full of people who like to rob, unfortunately you must suspect everyone. A serene old man dipped his hand in my bag as his granddaughter tried to open my back pack.
Tip 2 , Agree price before getting in a taxi, ensure you know what currency the price has been agreed. A sweating bear of a driver drove us from one bus to another, via his car running out of gas because the fuel gauge was knackered and reverse jump starting his car on the motorway. Upon dropping us at the bus he said the fare was in dollars and not cordobas. This cost more than the bus from Hoduras to Nicaragua.
Tip 3, Disregard any need for personal space on all public buses. Get used to sweating armpits hanging over your heads, large bellys slapping you in the face, stinking toilets, squeezing into a space no bigger than a lampost , and locals who have a fondness for falling asleep on you.
A Short Story Confirming Gods Existence :

The Dead heat of Leon rose to its peak. Ochre coloured churches cracked under the strain as people sat inside to escape the worst of the midday sun. Outside I walked west towards the suburb of Subtiavo. Past beautiful colonial buildings painted in bright happy colours. I was searching for a church, the oldest in Leon. And a procession marking Good Friday. Coloured sawdust is laid on the ground as men carrying statues of Jesus and playing great brass instruments perform the stations of the cross. Upon reaching the church I found out the procession was at 3am. Defeated I entered the church to cool down. Once my forehead dried I went outside onto a dusty green to make my way back.On the street another procession approached. A black clad priest wearing a moustache and sunglasses led the group. Women walked either side singing a lament as men took turns carrying the cross in the heat. Behind them about one hundred people sang.
The priest stopped the procession for the final station of the cross. A woman stepped forward to read a prayer. Behind her a twist of dust formed in front of the church. It rotated loosely, at first. More dust joined and a funnel took shape, about 10 foot in height. The congregation began to sing. The funnel grew, towering over the Church and at its peak was about 100 foot. The priest signalled to continue the procession as the mini tornado dissipated over the church.
It freaked the hell out of me.

Happy Easter all.

Sunday 1 April 2007

Cockroaches, Micro Breweries and a Dangerous City.

....everywhere, on the walls, in my bed, in my toiletry bag, under my pillow, in my shoes, jumping from the ceiling, hiding in the toilet pot and leaping, fangs showing directly into my face. Large reddish brown cockroaches who I shared my room with on Utila, I miss those guys.......
......."SanPedro Sula is a functional city. It has a high crime rate with some of the most dangerous gangs in Central America. In the first two months of this year 400 people have been murdered."Normally I would just ignore this kind of information, because it generally does not affect me. But on this occasion I have to say. Don`t go there. After an eventful busride with a Spanish marine biologist I stepped out into this shithole. The hotel was housed in a grim concrete block surrounded by half finished buildings all becoming ruins quickly. Inside the hotel someone had chosen grey as the primary colour. It is everywhere, on the walls, the floors and the curtains. As I walked into the room I noticed a cell like quality, but no cockroaches. Everything that could be stolen, curtains, pillow cases, wardrobes all had a prison style print on the side of them. SAN JOSE HOTEL. At reception I asked how safe it was. "Don`t go out at all after 10.30." Then I noticed the hole a bullet made in the front door. I returned to my room and read a book.............
..............D and D brewery is a little mecca tucked away in the countryside. It is surrounded by rolling hills and quaint villages. Not many travellers come here. If fact, not many travellers venture into Honduras proper. They stay in Copan or the Bay Islands. This probably explains peoples reactions to two pink skinned individuals climbing on a chicken bus. At first they all stare. Everyone. Then they laugh. Then some child will approach and ask your name and where you are from. This opens the gates to multiple questions from all and an odd curiosity with what is in your bag and pockets. The children are obsessed with getting their photos taken and crowd around as soon as you sit down. Kind of makes me feel special..........
After