|
November 18, 1999--Volcan Pacaya, Guatemala It seemed like a good idea at the time. But as I stand here straddling a steaming vent in the earths surface, with sulfuric gas fogging up my sunglasses and the volcanic rocks very hot beneath my feet, I begin to wonder why am I here, and why should I believe that it is safe? Of course our guide has assured us that it is safe, but how does he know? With all due respect to what I am sure are the very capable seismologists of Guatemala, I just do not get the warm and fuzzies that they are on the case with respect to Volcan Pacaya. Sadly, my recurring mental image is one of a haggard man, dragging himself out of bed each morning (wearing a nightshirt that reads "Seismologist", no less), and putting a tongue-moistened finger to the wind. And each morning, after a bit of reflection, he proclaims to himself that there will be no eruption today...it is safe to take the tourists' money and send them to the crater's edge. Oh well, I better get over it. Given that Central America is dotted with numerous volcanoes, this is not likely to be the last one I shall stand atop. Indeed, it is actually somewhat amusing playing the game, "Ok, if the volcano starts erupting now, where should we run?" Maybe next time I'll get to see lava, and be all the better able to visualize it spewing forth in molten balls, scalding and eating at my flesh. November 19, 1999--Panajachel, Guatemala While we visited the small lakeside town of Santiago, some little punk pegged Kelly with some mustard colored fruit. Sometimes these sort of events are good, particularly for Kelly. It provides a reminder that the world is often a harsh, miserable place full of loathsome, despicable, evil-doing characters who are neither inherently good nor capable or deserving of your trust and that, indeed, only wish you ill and harm. Well perhaps that is overstating it, but if you know Kelly, and her amazingly effervescent, cheery and energizing view of the world and its inhabitants (no existentialism in her outlook), you know what I mean. November 26, 1999--Caye Caulker, Belize One of the great things about this trip so far is that we continue to be amazed. The extraordinary seem to become the ordinary. Today for example. Snorkeling in the wonderfully warm and clear waters around Caye Caulker and Ambergris Caye, with breathtaking visibility and an over-abundance of coral and other marine life. Oh yeah, and we were able to swim with sharks and stingrays. Couple today's experience with the experience of snorkeling with sea turtles in the Galapagos, and it is difficult to imagine doing anything quite that wonderful in the water again. But we shall wait and see. November 27, 1999--Punta Gorda, Belize My teeth are still chattering and my head hurts. We had an 8 hour bus ride today from Belize City to Punta Gorda. Little did we know that after leaving Dangriga, with roughly 3 to 4 hours of bus travel to go, we were also leaving paved roads. Nothing but dirt, bumps, and potholes. It was very much like going out into the country, finding a isolated dirt road, and driving on it forever. Or so it seemed. Our view of the dirt, and the thick forest on both sides of the dirt, was interrupted only rarely by a house or two every so often. At least we think they were houses. No electricity in these parts, so not much light by which to see. I think they were houses. As night fell and our travels along these isolated roads continued, I could not help but think about the legendary bandits that prey upon buses at night from time to time in Central America. Indeed, in many parts of Central America, buses generally do not travel at night, in part because of this very problem. It was at about the same time that the notice in the Belize City bus station, informing passengers that the 6:00pm bus from Dangriga to Punta Gorda was being suspended in consideration of the "safety of passengers" began to make sense. We were in the middle of nowhere...a pretty easy target. I wondered how skilled our bus driver was at using the rather large machete he kept next to his seat, and then quickly realized the better course of action for him was simply to lead the bandits to the rich Americans sitting in the middle of the bus. Fortunately, a succession of large potholes and other inhospitable terrain took my mind off these dreary thoughts, as they were superseded by pain and aches. I think I chipped a tooth. December 2, 1999--Gracias, Honduras The spontaneity of our travels has been quite enjoyable. For instance, it was not until last night that we decided to head to either Santa Rosa de Copan or Gracias, and it was not until we got off the bus in Santa Rosa that we decided to push on to Gracias. We are glad we did. Gracias is quite beautiful, as it sits in a valley surrounded by mountains. It also retains a good deal of colonial charm, with its churches and cobblestone/dirt roads. On top of this, what is really great is the place we are staying. The hotel Guancascos, owned by a Dutch turned Hondurian named Froni, enjoys a beautiful panorama over the city. The rooms are all new, have a private bathroom, comfortable bed, and a TV that allowed me to check stock prices on CNN fn. What else could one ask for? And all for less than $10 a night. While staying in nice rooms that are pleasing in and of themselves is never a priority (price, cleanliness, and safety are), when we stay at a nice place like this it really is a treat. December 3, 1999--Gracias, Honduras Today I enjoyed the finest cup of coffee I have ever tasted. Rich, deep, full and heavy, it was downright sensuous. Freshly ground coffee beans, themselves freshly picked, strained (barely) with hot water (gathered from a nearby stream) through a filter that looked to be made of cheesecloth. Delicious. Like french press coffee, only with more delicious coffee sediment. All enjoyed at a small, primitive home, within the confines of the Celaque National Park, and served by a gracious, hospitable, Honduran who treated us like family during our 45 minute stay there. Sometimes it is the little things that make the greatest impression. December 5, 1999--Managua, Nicaragua I respect and admire Nicaragua. I really do. At our border crossing today, Nicaragua is kind enough to charge everyone (not just gringos) $7.00usd so that we may all come to their underdeveloped country and support its continued recovery with our tourism-related dollars. Fine. In Central America, we are used to fees the enter and exit countries. In Guatemala, it is the equivalent of $1.35usd, but only to leave. In Belize, it is the equivalent of $3.75usd, but again it is paid only when you leave. Honduras charges the equivalent of $1.25usd per person to both enter and leave. So the equivalent of $7.00usd to get into Nicaragua, while more than elsewhere, is not all that bad. What is remarkable, and what merits my unadulterated respect, is that when you pay that fee, and regardless of your nationality (USA, Honduran, German, no matter) you can only pay in US dollars! The national currency of Nicaragua, the Cordoba, is not accepted! As we waited in line to pay our fee, it was actually entertaining hearing exasperated, first-time visitors to Nicaragua, many of whom had just changed US dollars into Cordobas at the border, struggle with this seemingly absurd concept. "BUT WE ARE NOT IN AMERICA", and "Cual pais es esto" ("What country is this"), were typical of their cries of indignation. But I can respect this. As a country that in the early '80's saw amazing inflation, one year at a rate of 33,000%, it is refreshing to see a complete capitulation to the superiority of the US dollar. Why even bother with their own currency, when their is a reasonable chance it may be worth just a little less the next morning. "Just give us US dollars; the more, the better." No false pride, coyness, or nationalistic fever here; just honest to God pragmatism. You gotta love it. December 9, 1999--Monteverde, Costa Rica I'm not sure how it happened. I'm not sure why it happened. I'm not sure when it happened. All I know is that it has happened, and I'm just now able to admit it. I like bird-watching. There. I said it. Are you happy? Do you insist on breaking me down? JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!! I know that some will be horribly disappointed, while others will claim they saw it coming. Some may be sickened, while others may try to console me, admitting that they, too, enjoy bird-watching. I open myself up to the judgment of all. I should have recognized the warning signs long ago; the signs that I had an inclination toward aesthetically pleasing pursuits. The signs that one day I too could become, as Kelly puts it, a "bird nerd." For instance, several years ago Kelly and I traveled to Walt Disney World with great friends of ours, Chris and Scott Polhemus. While there at Epcot Center, we were admiring the central lagoon and the meticulous landscaping. One part of the lagoon was adorned with large, floating bouquets of flowers. And before I knew what I was doing, I blurted out words to the effect of "those flowers sure are pretty." Scott, a guy's guy if there ever was one, looked at me in disgust, together with a strong undercurrent of heartfelt disappointment. "Pretty flowers" he asked, in a sarcastic and mocking voice. As soon as he said it, I knew I had let him down. Indeed, it has not been the same between us ever since. Surely, the fact that I now admit to enjoying bird-watching, a pursuit as much at odds with being a true "guy" as enjoying pretty flowers, will be no surprise to Scott. Why is this brought to the fore now? Well today we enjoyed a full day in the Monteverde Cloud and Rain Forest enjoying, among other things, bird-watching. For instance, Costa Rica has more than 50 species of hummingbirds, and we saw many today. They are quite amazing to view, with the unmistakable rapidity of the flapping of their wings, their hovering in mid-air, changing position with such swiftness, and the characteristic "humming" sounds made by their wings as they whirl past you. Couple this with their bright colors and their interesting sizes and shapes, is it any wonder that I enjoyed watching them? But today was not the first day I consciously enjoyed it. This trip of ours has really pulled it out of me, seeing all these brightly colored and exotic birds. I really was quite defenseless, as one cannot help but like birding when seeing the variety of birds we have seen. For instance, sitting atop the pyramid of the Mundo Perdido in Tikal, on the lookout for parrots and toucans was a wonderful experience. And actually sighting several examples of each was thrilling. I think that I finally understand the attraction of birding. Birds are so numerous and of such variety, and prevalent in virtually every geographic locale, that they are the most accessible of all wildlife. Further, they are a rather elusive quarry, so there truly is a "thrill of the hunt" involved. And they are aesthetically pleasing, particularly when brightly and interestingly colored, or otherwise exotic. Is there an antidote? I'm not sure. All I know that is upon my return to the States, me and the guys will watch football, drink beers and smoke cigars, scratch and belch, and be as profane as we can be. And then, perhaps, order will be restored.
|
|
2 Go Maps / 2 Go Actual Itinerary / 2 Go Photos / 2 Go Home Page
PLEASE E-MAIL US. . . WE WOULD LOVE 2 HEAR FROM YOU!
©1999-2001 Kelly and Rich Willis. All rights reserved. |
