Torres del Paine

Megan:
After a few days together in Buenos Aires, Molly, Andy, Jon and I flew down south to the small town of El Calafate which would become our transportation hub throughout our time in Southern Patagonia. Except for excellent ice cream, we found little of interest in this town overrun with tour operators and overpriced restaurants.

We did however end up renting a car for a day trip to nearby Glacier National Park to view the Perito Moreno Glacier which was absolutely incredible. Said to be one of the most active and exciting glaciers on earth, the deep blue hued Perito Moreno advances up to two meters per day. We were able to witness its 60-meter high ice-peaks break off and crash into the frigid waters below creating small tidal waves and leaving icebergs floating for miles around - quite a spectacular site.

From there we crossed the border into Chile and spent a day in the small town of Puerto Natales where we were able to stock up on food and supplies to prepare for our first backpacking trip in Torres del Paine National Park.

I have to admit I had some apprehension about all of the trekking we were planning to do in Patagonia. We had mapped out three separate treks of about 4-5 days each with large packs, tents, sleeping bags, cooking gear and enough food for the entire trek. I felt as though the whole month before Molly and Andy arrived I was filled with self-doubt. I was under the impression that everyone else was more prepared for this kind of activity than I was - stronger, more experienced, and maybe more importantly, more mentally prepared. Once we got out on the trail, I was very pleased to discover that almost all of this self-doubt was in my head (as these kinds of things typically are), and that not only could I keep up, but I was able to enjoy almost every minute of it (with a few really steep exceptions).

We spent 6 days trekking along the famous "W" trail where we were blessed with perfect weather (except for a few bouts of the strongest winds I have ever experienced) and spectacular panoramic views of enormous glaciers and snow-covered rocky peaks. During our 6-8 hours of hiking a day we encountered a multitude of glacial lakes, each one a slightly different shade of blue or green than the one before it; watched icebergs lazily float by; witnessed the day's first light illuminate the Torres del Paine (the rock towers for which the park is named); and enjoyed some great conversations.

Jon and I suspected that our time with Molly and Andy would go pretty smoothly, but we have still been pleasantly surprised with just how enjoyable planning the trip and spending large amounts of time together has been. I don't think I've spent this much time with my sister since I was in high school - it's been fantastic. And since Jon and I were packing up our lives at home right around the time Andy and Molly started dating, this month in Patagonia has been our first real chance to get to know him - and what a pleasure it's been.

Our time in Torres del Paine ended up being incredibly rewarding with spectacular natural beauty, meaningful conversations with old and new friends, and a surprising rediscovery of confidence.

A whirlwind update

Megan:
As you may have noticed, it's been quite a while since our last update - this is mainly due to how much we have packed into the past month, but the inflated cost of internet shops lately hasn't helped to motivate us either. In short Jon and I spent the second half of November working our way south through Northern Chile and Argentina in time to meet up with my sister Molly and her boyfriend Andy in Buenos Aires on December 1st. Although a lot of that time was spent on buses, we managed to have some really wonderful experiences in various stops along the way.

Once we were able to get over the completely foreign-sounding Chilean accent, we realized how nice it was to be in a country that is much closer to first world standards. After leaving Peru, our first destination was Arica where we joined a tour to the small town of Putre and the nearby Lauca National Park. We have been making a point lately of doing tours completely in Spanish - a nice addition to just getting an informative explanation. The wildlife in this region of the Atacama Desert was fascinating. We saw llamas and three other related species (vicuñas, alpaccas and guanacos), a large rabbit-like rodent that has a long tail (viscacha), some huge ostrich-type birds (ñandús), an andean condor with a nine-foot wing span, and flamingos.

From there we made our way west to San Pedro de Atacama. Our first impression of San Pedro was that of an incredibly over-priced dusty town that had been stuck in the middle of the desert solely for tour operators and the tourists that supported them. Once we discovered that the next available bus didn't depart for another five days, we decided to give the town a chance and settled in. It took us a full two days to decide that this town had some nice things to offer. As it turns out the only tour we decided to do was fantastic. We began by exploring a geyser field at dawn - an incredible site to witness despite the unbelievable chill that rolls through at that time of day up at 14,000 ft. Once the sun began to shed its warmth, we were able to soak in a thermal pool fed by the geysers. After a number of short stops to become familiar with local flora and fauna, we went on an unexpected hike following a stream into a beautifully sculpted canyon.

After our five-days' wait, we happily crossed into Argentina and stayed at a charming little hostel in the town of Salta. The guys who ran this establishment had a knack and love for cooking and offered to make dinner for whoever was staying there that night. We thought they were making a simple meal of pasta and sauce, but this turned into a four-hour production of making pasta from scratch and a carefully simmering fresh vegetables, meat and spices into an artful sauce. Somewhere in this cooking process, I no longer felt like I had been traveling and without roots for 10 months - I felt like for at least one night, I had come home.

After this delicious home-cooked meal, we slipped away to the quaint town of Cafayate known for its small-scale vineyards and beautiful canyon lands. We spent our first day here attempting to stay hydrated in the heat of the desert red rock as we wandered through the phenomenal layered rock formations. Our second day we enjoyed touring and doing tastings at a few of the local wineries. Our favorite discovery was Torrontes - a crisp white wine exclusive to Argentina - luckily we still have another month in Argentina to continue enjoying this one. We also had the interesting opportunity to tour a local goat cheese factory where we actually ended up acting as translators for the rest of the tour group as we learned about everything from the goat's strictly regimented diet to the classical music they listen to during the milking process - fascinating.

After this whirlwind tour through the north of Chile and Argentina (and a 20-hour bus ride), we arrived in Buenos Aires with a few days to spare before Molly and Andy's arrival. Since we are planning to return and spend the month of January in this bustling cultural center, we spent the last few days of November researching Spanish schools and getting an apartment lined up. While there we also enjoyed meeting up with numerous friends who we had met earlier in our travels and had a great spur of the moment visit from a friend of Jon's from high school.

We were delighted to see Molly and Andy when they arrived safely in Buenos Aires at the beginning of December and spent our first two days together showing them around the city and beginning to catch up. Since then, the four of us have headed south where we've been thoroughly enjoying the Patagonian wilderness. Tomorrow morning we are beginning our third backpacking trip this month, and as you may have guessed, we have a ton of photos and stories that we're looking forward to sharing in the days to come.

Wishing you all happy holidays!

The road ahead

Jonathan:

Megan and I have both been surprised by the underlying tone of negativity our writings have had lately, and it's motivated us to step back for a day or two and reflect on why.

A few days ago we took a gorgeous road trip between the desert oasis of San Pedro de Atacama in northern Chile, and the lush green valley's of Salta in northwest Argentina. For much of the journey I found myself staring out the window wondering why so much of the beauty we've encountered over the past several weeks had been so difficult to enjoy. I was trying to pinpoint the moment that things had shifted for us. What had happened that had caused us to switch so decisively from our spirit of tranquility, to feeling so victimized and targeted?

We had really been enjoying our time in Peru up until Cusco; the northern coast and the Cordillera Blanca had been amazing; and even the initial difficulties we experienced in Cusco hadn't been enough to kill our spirits. Two weeks into our time there we were enjoying ourselves well enough to change our plans and stay an extra week. We were planning a backpacking trip to nearby Ausangate, and... that's when my bag was stolen, from the very agency where we had been planning that trip. Yesterday it occurred to me that I never really let it sink in how difficult that was.

It's pretty normal for me to try to handle difficult situations rationally, but I don't usually do it to such an extent that I completely deprive myself of the emotional experience and the invaluable learning process that inevitably ensues. Regardless, in this case I think I did.

When the dust had settled after the bag was taken - the police reports had been filled out, the insurance claims had been filed, and we had given up hope that anyone would be able to find anything - I sat down to write about the experience. Knowing this blog has served as an excellent tool for processing the powerful and sometimes trying experiences that have defined this trip for the two of us, I fully intended to write about the intense frustration I was feeling in the midst of my tremendous sense of loss - my brand new camera that had just been delivered a few days before, eight months of notes and countless hours of effort I had poured into my Spanish notebooks, my travel journal... my drawings, my reflections, my cultural observations, my goals for when we return home... everything was lost for good. I intended to write about the sense of vulnerability we were feeling, and the distrust we seemed to have developed toward everyone around us, even those who were just trying to help. I titled the post "Reality Check," and I began to write.

To my surprise, I did not end up writing about my intense emotional experience at all. In fact, I didn't even mention the theft. Instead I wrote about how I thought Cusco wasn't such a good fit for the two of us this time around, and we probably just needed to move on. I changed the title to "Then and Now," and I asked Megan if she could casually mention in her post that I had happened to lose all of my most valued possessions. In the second blogging opportunity I had to process what I was going through, "Nine Months Deep," I ended up writing more about how hostile our experience in Peru had felt, and that maybe our trip had peaked and we were just starting to lose our capacity to enjoy ourselves down here. I think there is some genuine truth behind both posts, which is important to acknowledge, but in looking back I think they were both written in an effort to convince myself that the problem was some outside condition, something separate from us.

In my moment of clarity the other day, it occurred to me that a huge part of the negativity we've been experiencing these past few weeks is something we've been dragging around with us from place to place. Peru hadn't changed; we had. That kind of a shift in perception is not something that can be fixed by a simple change of scenery, but it certainly doesn't mean that we have lost our capacity to create meaningful experiences on this trip.

The incredible beauty that has surrounded us since we arrived in Argentina a few days ago has almost forced me to admit that I don't want to finish out these next three months by just going through the motions. I want to be here to experience everything that is waiting for us on the road ahead, and I want to do it with the sense of peace and openness that has already allowed this trip to become the journey of a lifetime.

Nine months deep

Jonathan:
Since We left Cusco, moving on has felt like... well, moving on. We paid a brief visit to the small town of Puno, sandwiched between the Peruvian altiplano and the crystal blue waters of Lake Titicaca. Aside from some breathtaking vistas of the lake and some fantastic restaurant experiences, neither of us were enamoured with Puno itself. We did manage to take a few trips out into the lake on gruelingly slow collectivo water taxis (i.e. 34km = 4 hour journey). One trip was to visit a colony of floating man-made islands inhabited by the descendants of the Uros people, a pre-Inca tribe who began constructing their amazing floating reed homes centuries ago to escape their oppressive neighbors; and another trip was to spend a night with a local family on the remote island of Taquile.

Originally Titicaca was going to be our entry point into Bolivia, where we were planning on spending a significant chunk of time as we worked our way south to Buenos Aires where Megan's sister and her boyfriend will be meeting us in the beginning of December. But, a ridiculous new entry fee (special for US citizens, everyone else enters free), and an escalating political situation in southern Bolivia were enough to persuade us to save that visit for another trip. So instead of crossing the lake, we headed out toward the southern metropolis of Arequipa, the cosmopolitan capital of Peru. While the city remained as handsome and smart as we had remembered from our trip three years ago, our experience there was dampened by two annoying colds (one for each of us), and a strong desire to get the heck out of Peru. After a visit to a local clinic for some industrial strength cough syrup, antibiotics, and a few other drugs (we didn't ask), we bid farewell to Arequipa and Peru. Since then we've been slowly but surely working our way through northern Chile on our way down to Buenos Aires.

Soon after we left Cusco, it occurred to both of us that while the staggering natural beauty of Peru had been some of the most impressive we had experienced on our trip so far, our cultural experience had left us feeling a little bit... played. The vast majority of our personal experiences in Peru were rich with hospitality and cultural exchange. Most of the time we felt very welcome and well looked after, but more than in any other country our experience seemed riddled with little dishonest exchanges - misrepresented services, trick calculators to determine exchange rates, cut corners, theft! - a slew of seemingly shady deals. With the exception of my bag being stolen, no single event seemed exceedingly detrimental. We were cheated out of fifty cents here, a dollar there, we took a few bum tours... nothing epic. But unfortunately it was the dishonesty, not the hospitality that's stuck with us.

Again, we're not sure if it was Peru itself or simply the timing in our trip that drove our experience. For all we know this kind of stuff has been happening to us since we left home, and we've only recently been able to communicate well enough to know about it. Regardless, Peru holds the heavy responsibility of having apprised us of this unfortunate reality, and it holds a slightly tinged place in our hearts as a result.

The grand realization about the nature of our journey which we were hoping to stumble upon on our way south has not turned out to be quite what we expected. We were both hoping to emerge from this past month's doldrums with a renewed sense of direction, motivation, and enthusiasm for travel. Instead we've come to the awkward realization that maybe our trip has already peaked. It seems that for almost 9 months now our time has been filled to the brim with fantastic adventures, rich discoveries, rewarding relationships, and once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I'm not sure how long that can go on before "rich and rewarding" starts to feel normal. It's not that our experiences are becoming dull, it just seems that lately we're more impressed by feelings of solidity than we are by exhillerating new adventures. Maybe we've been trying too hard.

It's funny how similar this sounds to what I wrote about my experience at Lago Atitlan back in May - about not needing to try so hard to create meaningful experiences. The truth is it's exactly the same realization, it's just nine months deep this time.

Then and now

Jonathan:
It's interesting to reflect on what I remember expecting from Cusco before we arrived four weeks ago. On the long twisting bus ride here, I remember our hearts were fluttering with fond memories of this quaint colonial town and the majestic andean landscape we had grown to adore on our previous trip to Peru three years ago. The rich connection we felt with this place back then, with its culture, its history, and the sheer beauty of the surrounding countryside, played a significant role in our decision to return to this part of the world on this year's epic journey.

In a way, I think my personal style of idealized memory-making may have doomed this return trip to be a little unfairly judged. The memories I had taken with me from our first visit to this part of the world had spent the past three years aging into a rich barrage of images, so enchantingly perfect that, this time around, the bustling reality of this tourist Mecca didn't stand a chance.

This city has undeniable charm. As I look around at the narrow cobbled streets lined by impeccable Inka masonry walls, and the richly textured Spanish architecture that towers above the city's Andean foundations, I can't help but let a touch of the warmth and admiration I once felt for this place swell to the surface. But there's no doubt that over the course of the past month, my sentiments toward this place have changed.

Although we've been here longer than any other city on our trip so far, we've struggled to feel settled here. I don't know how much of our experience has been due to the reality of the place, or simply its timing in our trip. In a lot of ways I think we were expecting Cusco to be able to replicate some portion of the enriching depth we've found in so many other corners of this continent. The reality is that this place already provided us with that experience three years ago, and it almost seems unfair to have expected it again.

Instead, our time here has been riddled with challenges, and it's left us feeling a bit raw. Cusco is seeming to be a place of transition for the two of us - a place of difficult learning, personal reflection, and shifts in self-perception. Once again we're feeling a dire need to step back and redefine what we're looking for and what this trip means for us, to try and shift our perspective just enough to shed some light on an opportunity we may not have recognized before.

Armed with optimism for the renewed sense of direction we hope to find in the weeks to come, we will be heading out tomorrow to the high-altitude town of Puno on the shores of lake Titicaca, for some nice cold mountain air, some rest, and hopefully a fresh start.

Missing passion

Megan:
I have been trying to write about our time in Cusco for the past week and have encountered a lot of trouble making any kind of point. I feel like there were some real challenges as well as wonderful moments, but I think the reason for this block is that when I look back on our time there I don't feel any passion. We both felt relatively indifferent about our cumulative time in school, with our local family, and exploring the city - which is probably more closely tied to where we are in the process of this trip than our physical location.

Most of our past month was spent involved in a Spanish school - studying, living with a local family and getting to know some of the other students. We spent a good portion of our first week talking to the director of the school about things that didn't feel like a good fit for us. This began with the first 'family' we moved in with - we very quickly realized that this location was a 50 minute walk from school, it was really more of a small hotel complete with business cards, and all of the travelers ate at a separate (English speaking) table from the rest of the family. Obviously not our style.

Our second family resolved a number of the previous problems, but we still ended up feeling relatively indifferent about the experience. There were a few substantial conversations where we shared our thoughts on the upcoming presidential election or the conquering of the indigenous people in both of our countries centuries before, but we never really felt like part of the family as we had in previous home stays. We also found conversations around the table quickly turned to English since we shared the house with another couple traveling from the UK who had no prior experience with Spanish. We realized this was not an ideal situation when we found ourselves leaving the house so we could practice speaking a little Spanish on our own.

I found myself confronting the director of the school again regarding whether one of my teachers was really a good fit for me, and trying to get clear what my curriculum would be for the following two weeks since it was not yet apparent to me that there was in fact a plan in place. By the way, as proof that we are in fact learning, all of these conversations now take place in Spanish. After that meeting, things improved, but Jon and I had enough days of only half-understanding what we were being taught, that we were pretty ready when the last day of classes rolled around.

One of the most challenging events of our time in Cusco is that Jon's day bag was stolen. We were in a travel agency discussing the details of a possible upcoming high-altitude backpacking trip, and somehow a man off the street managed to swipe Jon's bag from beside his chair without us noticing. We both went through a range of emotions...disbelief (surely this didn't just happen to us - we're always so careful), anger, an awareness of our extreme vulnerability, complete acceptance (for whatever reason this is what was supposed to happen), and then sadness for all the 'things' that had been lost. We did manage to remain grateful throughout this roller coaster of emotions that we still had everything important - the two of us had not been placed in any danger - and the stuff (Jon's camera and even his travel journal of the past 8 months) could be replaced or at least absorbed into our memories.

Despite the above list of challenges, we were surrounded by some positive experiences too - like the social scene we found at our school. We quickly bonded with a great group of fellow travelers over a cup of tea at school or a pisco sour at night on the dance floor. It seems we had more nights out in Cusco than any other city on our trip. We also had the pleasure of meeting up with our good friends Mackenzie and Bradley from Boulder who were preparing to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu - how wonderful after eight months to see familiar faces who required no explanation of who we were or where we came from. We enjoyed a few trips outside of the city also, like our fantastic weekend excursion to several Inca ruins in the nearby Sacred Valley. After seeing Machu Picchu three years ago, we weren't sure how impressive these sites would be, but once again we were astounded by the incredible craft and level of detail the Incas used in their architecture.

Overall, after four weeks in Cusco, we were both very ready to bid farewell to the city that initially made us fall in love with South America. Hopefully this change of scenery will bring with it the renewal of energy we are both desperately craving.

Si, lo hablo

Jonathan:

I distinctly remember a conversation I had with a friend only a few weeks before we left on this trip in which I boldly stated that I was on the verge of being conversational in Spanish. I'm not really sure where I got that idea - Maybe it was my impressive ability to fluidly ask where the bathroom was, or my deep knowledge of Spanish numbers and colors that gave me my confidence. I can't be sure. Regardless, It took me less than three weeks of traveling through northern Mexico to discover the vast reality of complex grammar and idiomatic nuances that my 2 years of high school Spanish had somehow failed to touch on.

 

When we decided to enroll in classes in Guanajuato 6 months ago, I genuinely thought that two weeks of studying would be just the kick-start we would need to propel ourselves into a frenzy of high-octane learning on the street - I thought we'd be fluent in no time. Well, it turned out that two weeks were barely enough time for me to learn how to say "the more I learn, the more I realize I don't know" (Mientras más aprendo, más sé lo que no sé)... and I meant it.

 

When I look back on the roller coaster ride of confidence and self-doubt that both Megan and I have been through with learning Spanish over the past 7 months, I can't help but smile. Each school experience has propelled our grasp of the language to new levels of depth and complexity, while at the same time shedding light on overwhelming tracts of unexplored territory. It's been hard to measure our progress because with every milestone we reach, the finish line seems to slip further off into the distance. Days of confident in-depth conversation are almost always followed by days where we barely understand what we've just ordered.

 

I've heard that there are several tell-tale signs of being fluent in a new language - when you start thinking or dreaming in it, or when you start to understand jokes. Normally when people ask me if I speak Spanish, I respond with one of several rehearsed responses like, "well, I speak a little," or "we're still learning." These simple responses are usually enough to solicit an enthusiastic nod of approval and sometimes a comment or two that I can't quite catch.

Somewhere in the north of Peru however, I noticed a distinct change in myself. Lately when someone asks if I speak Spanish, for some reason I've simply been saying, "yes. I do." It's not something I started doing on purpose, but the shift in self-perception feels significant. I'm certainly not dreaming in Spanish yet, so I'm not sure where this milestone fits into the quest to be fluent. We will probably continue to have our ups and downs, good days and bad, but for the first time since we left home the horizon seems to be creeping closer.

After a couple of brief sightseeing stops in Lima and Nazca on our way south, we've just completed our first week of studying Spanish in Cusco, Peru. So far we've both been having a fabulous experience with the program, and our latest local "family." Our conversations are becoming more fluid each day, and I have no doubt that from here on it will only become more comfortable to say, "Si, lo hablo."

 

 

 

Such great heights

Megan:
Almost all of our time since our last post has been filled exploring the natural beauty of the Peruvian Andes. About a week and a half ago, we arrived in Huaraz, Peru which has served as our base camp for exploring the stunning Parque Nacional Huascarán. After checking into one of the most beautiful and well-kept hotels of our trip, we set out to explore this high-altitude backpacker haven. We spent some time talking to a few tour companies and other travelers about various trails and decided to tackle the famous 4-day Santa Cruz trek in the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. We were accompanied by our guide Marco, six other eager travelers with varying levels of wilderness experience, and four triumphant donkeys (Blanca, Carlos, Daniel and Pancho).

The scenery in the Cordillera Blanca was jaw-dropping to say the least. Our days were filled hiking through immense valleys of golden grasses, traversing rivers and climbing closer and closer to the glaciers that soar 20,000 ft above. This was the first time I had seen a glacier, and let me tell you, these magnificent towers of ice and rock created a very different feeling for me than any other mountain landscape I'd seen. The sheer contrast of jet-black rock with blueish-white ice and snow was breathtaking. We spent our second afternoon watching the lighting and clouds that surrounded the highest peak continually change. The scenery just kept getting more beautiful, until the sun lit up the clouds with the last of the day's warmth as it slipped behind the ridge and darkness took over.

Our highest pass of 15,500 ft was enveloped in clouds by the time we reached the top - creating a kind of unknown abyss on the opposite side of the ridge as we began to work our way down. Our next campsite at 14,000 ft. actually felt comfortable and sheltered after being face to face with the rugged glaciers above.

When we were not out experiencing the natural beauty of this area, we were enjoying the comforts of our hotel bed...not so much by choice, but more out of necessity. That's right, Jon and I took turns with a stomach bug, but luckily these latest episodes were relatively minor and well-timed - mine was before our trek and Jon's was after we returned. I am pleased to report that today we are both feeling 'normal,' so I think the worst of it is behind us.

It's a little difficult to say goodbye to such a beautiful mountain backdrop, but tomorrow night we'll be boarding a bus for Lima, the bustling capital of Peru. We're ready to see what this city has to offer, even though I expect it will be a pretty stark contrast to the rugged natural beauty we've come to love here.

Moving on

Jonathan:
Our final days in Quito were a hectic mix of cramming in as much quality time with our Ecuadorian family as we could, and checking off the last few museums and sites around town we'd somehow managed to neglect throughout our time there. One of the highlights was an afternoon we spent exploring the museum & gallery of world renowned Ecuadorian painter and sculptor Guayasamín. We were fortunate enough to be accompanied by a thoughtful and articulate guide who provided fascinating insights into the haunting style, and politically charged subject matter of his work.

Our last afternoon was spent at home with our family making homemade humitas - a rich and flavorful Ecuadorian version of the tamale, and something Guadalupe (our "mom") had been promising to teach us to make since we arrived. We shucked corn, cranked grinders, laughed and played together, savoring the final few hours we had to enjoy each other's company. Megan's and my departure that night brought with it a heavy mix of tears, hugs, fond wishes, and heartfelt promises to stay in touch.

After a long trip on a rough night bus, our first stop was the southern Ecuadorian city of Cuenca. We enjoyed exploring the richly textured cobbled streets, and we did our best to readjust to finding restaurants and hotels again after almost six weeks of not having to fend for ourselves. The primary reason for our stop in Cuenca was to allow a trip into Las Cajas national park - a wildlife reserve that is home to some 2000 lakes and a surreal landscape of high Andean tundra.

From there we made brief two-day stop to bask in the lush greenery and supremely laid back warmth of Vilcabamba, before heading down across the border and onto the northern coast of Peru. We've spent our past few days in the northern coastal town of Trujillo, giving ourselves a break between long overnight bus rides and a little time to check out the pre-Inca ruins that abound in this part of the country.

It's been interesting to move on from Quito. We had been there for so long, I think in a lot of ways it was starting to feel like home. We had work, we had a schedule, we enjoyed nights at home with our family - we gained a real sense of familiarity with everything we were doing there, and it was comfortable. It was great to let ourselves dig in, but at the same time I think that sense or regularity left us with a lot of space for our thoughts wander onto the things we desperately miss about home. The things we usually rely on to help us ground ourselves and regenerate are tough to find down here - downtime and happy hours with friends, Saturday mornings at home making coffee and breakfast in our pajamas, my bike... We are elated to be doing what we are doing, and we feel a great sense of appreciation for the adventures and challenges that each new day brings, but it is starting to sink in that a year is a long time to be away from the people and places we hold closest to out hearts.

So, with a mix of fond recollections of our time in Quito and subtle sense of longing for the things we love about home, we are continuing to make our way south through the Andes. Our next stop is the mountain town of Huaraz which we plan to use as a base camp for exploring the dramatic glaciated peaks and jade valleys of the Peruvian Cordillera.

A month at the middle of the world

Jonathan:
Somewhere in between the studying, volunteering and an amazing jaunt to the Galapagos, we did end up with a little bit of time to explore Quito, and get to know this town a little better.

One of the highlights was a stunningly beautiful day hike up to the top of Mount Pichincha--a 15,600ft peak that towers over downtown Quito. Accompanied by our Dutch friend Angelique, we set out on the trail from the top of a sightseeing gondola that connects the town center with a breathtaking mirador overlooking the sprawling city. We spent the day basking in the high-altitude sun, and trying to get our lungs to remember how to work at that elevation. Aside from a few exotic plants and some crazy volcanic rock formations, the trek felt just like home.

No time in Quito would be complete without a trip to the "Mitad del Mundo" (middle of the world) complex where the line of the equator streaks through the visitors center as a highlighted row of yellow bricks. There aren't too many metropolitan areas in the world where you can stand with one foot in each hemisphere, so we were glad to have checked that off our list. Evidently the complex was built before modern GPS was available, and the line is about 200 meters south of where it should be. Fortunately there's another museum with the "real" line next door, so we made a point to visit both. The smaller museum had several experiments set up to exhibit the affects of the strange gravitational pull at the equator—a tub of water with a drain to demonstrate how the water spins clockwise on the southern side of the line, and counterclockwise just a few steps away; a place to practice balancing an egg, which I guess is supposed to be easy there (Megan did it but I didn't have the patience); and a few other tidbits of gravity trivia. A quick trip to Snopes.com and we found out that most of the experiments were fixed, but it made for a fun afternoon anyway.

Another highlight of our time here has been basking in the warmth and good company of our host family, la familia Enriquez Pazmiño, whom we have grown increasingly fond of throughout our extended time in this town. Their thoughtfulness and generosity have provided us with the sense of home that felt like it was sorely missing from so much of our transient time in Central America. Our evenings and meals with our family have been spent sharing stories, our thoughts about the world, and our hearts. The connection that we've made with these wonderful people is one that will surely last for years to come. We feel extremely fortunate and grateful to have gotten to know them, and we will look forward to staying in touch in the future.

After spending more time in Quito than anywhere else on our trip, I think we're both feeling ready to move on. We'll be departing tonight for Cuenca, a smaller town in southern Ecuador, where we are looking forward to some hiking in the nearby Parque National de Las Cajas.

The Galapagos Islands

Megan:
Where to begin? I think Amazing would be a good start. It truly is a place unlike any other - a wildlife paradise. Jon and I decided that if we were going to take the financial plunge to visit the Galapagos Islands then we wanted to do it right - on and eight-day cruise with an impressive itinerary to the islands with some of the best wildlife. After visiting a number of travel agents, we decided the Nemo II would be our vessel of choice. And what a good choice it was - a beautiful 14 passenger catamaran sailboat complete with a sun deck, three gourmet meals a day, bedrooms you could stand up and walk around in, each with a private bathroom. This yacht was leaps and bounds beyond anything we could have imagined based on our other two boating experiences this year. And yet again, we were lucky to be paired with a great group of international travelers.

Most days we would begin with a delicious breakfast and a briefing on the day's activities from our knowledgeable guide, Mauricio. Our mornings would typically consist of a casual guided hike on whichever amazing island we had woken up at that day, followed by some snorkeling. After lunch (and usually a nap) the crew would navigate to our next destination and we would explore a new island and a new snorkeling site in the afternoon. I know...pretty tough life.

Most of the islands are uninhabited and all of them have evolved independently from the other each with their own unique variations of cactus, mangrove, iguana, tortoise, or whatever species happened to evolve there. It's no wonder Darwin used the islands to develop his theories on evolution - adaptation is everywhere you look. The park service and the Darwin Research Center has been working for decades to cleanse each island of the influences of humans, which in most cases mean irradicating any introduced plants and animals so that only the original endemic species remain. Due to the reasearch work and vigorous protection programs, the animals in the Galapagos have developed a level of comfort with the presence of humans. They have not been given any reason to fear us, so we were able to get incredibly close to them. From just inches away we were able to watch blue footed boobies engaged in courting rituals, magnificent frigates sitting on a nest of newly hatched chicks, iguanas basking in the sun, and baby sea lions crawling across the beach probably on one of their first solo adventures.

Although our time on land was fascinating and quite beautiful, I think the highlight of this trip for both Jon and I was our time in the water. Unlike the corral reefs we became familiar with in the Caribbean, all of the islands in the Galapagos are formed by volcanic activity so most of what we saw underwater were hardened lava formations. This created a more subtle backdrop for the spectacular animal activity we were able to witness. Swimming with playful sea lions was an unbelievable sensation. We made a game out of imitating each other twisting and turning or blowing bubbles while coasting through the water. The sea lions seemed to be just as excited as we were to have new underwater playmates. We also got to watch Humboldt penguins soar through the water and blue footed boobies (a unique bird that is famous in the Galapagos) powerfully dive into the water for their next fish dinner. Colorful fish, eagle rays and sting rays were abundant as were white and black tip sharks, Galapagos sharks, and Jon had to opportunity to swim with some menacing 3-meter hammerhead sharks as well.

We both feel so grateful to have been able to experience such a magnificent and unique part of the world.

Learning to give again

Jonathan:
It's hard to believe that we've been in Quito for over a month now, especially since we both feel like we've barely had time to get to know this city. Between studying Spanish, volunteering with local kids, two hour-long bus commutes every day, and few hours of homework each night we've found ourselves using every spare moment to either catch our breath or sleep.

After our first week of classes, which was the last time we wrote, we started a volunteer program with a local organization that cares for children whose parents are either in jail, or otherwise unable to care for the kids on their own. After completing a week's worth of paperwork and an extrememly organized orientation process with the program coordinater at our school, we arrived at the project on our first day almost assuming there would be name badges and t-shirts. I don't know what we expected really, but what we found was that the project site looked deserted, the office was locked, and there wasn't a kid in sight. After knocking on doors of the individual houses to see if we could find anyone who might be expecting us, we managed to find a group of about 6 kids who we were able to spend the next few hours with. For the rest of the morning we asked everyone we saw, including the janitor, if they knew what we were supposed to be doing. We ended up leaving our first day wondering the same thing I'm sure they were--- what the hell these two gringos from the States were doing there.

Despite the vigourous efforts of our project coordinator to encourage the project staff to pull it together, our whole first week seemed to follow that suit-- broken plans, missed connections, and a frustrating array of failed group project attempts. After only two days of pulling our hair out trying to work with the organization (or lack of), we began discussing our options for getting out. It wasn't until I was genuinely considering ditching the whole project without notice that I realized maybe my attitude was in need of an adjustment. I was supposed to be there for the kids-- doing whatever I could to support them, care for them, and help them in any way that I could. Instead I was so wrapped up in my own failed plans and expectations that I was missing the point. The kids didn't care how smoothly things were going or whether our "program" was following the appropriate schedule. They didn't care about the art projects or the poorly explained games. All they were looking for was a little affection from a grown-up-- something that has been sorely missing from the majority their time on this planet. I'm not sure what it was that got me feeling so rash, but I think after six months of struggling to take care of myself, I had forgotten how to give.

After that little realization sunk in, the rest of our time in the program ended up being much easier to handle, but not because everything was running smoothly. We still had the missed connections and awkward changes of plans to work around, but we were always there to be with the kids. The rest didn't seem to matter much. Somewhere in there we managed to pull off a day where we all made paper snowflakes, something the children had never seen before--the paper or the real ones; we taught them how to make smores, the only "traditional" American food we could think of; and on our last day we left each of them with their own smiling plastic flower souvenir which we had diligently crafted the night before with a little help from our host family and a hot glue gun.

Overall the process turned out to be an important and rewarding learning experience for us both. After such a long period of only looking out for ourselves, it was refreshing to learn how to give again. We are very much looking forward to the next opportunity we might have to find something we can offer, and some way to give a little bit of ourselves.

Our time at school was a wonderfully rewarding experience as well. Megan and I were both paired with fantastic teachers and were able to pick up right where we left off after finishing our classes in Antigua over three months before. We still seem to have good days and bad with our Spanish-- sometimes we are impressed by how fluidly we can communicate, and other times we feel frustrated that we still struggle to follow simple conversations-- we rely on the moments of feeling impressed with ourselves to stay in good spirits and motivated.

Ecuadorian Culture

Megan:
We have been enrolled Spanish classes in Quito for only a few days, and Jon and I have already noticed a renewed enthusiasm in ourselves. We are looking forward to pouring ourselves into bettering our Spanish, and beginning next week, we will also be sharing some time with local kids who could use a little extra affection. We'll be volunteering for four hours in the morning at a home for underprivileged children, and then going to school for four hours in the afternoon. As we had hoped, I imagine this will keep us quite busy and engaged.

We also moved in with our local host family on Sunday. The mother, father and three kids have been a delight to be around, and they have provided us with a great venue to practice our Spanish. They have also been teaching us a bit about typical Ecuadorian cuisine. We began expanding that culinary knowledge last night in our first cooking class which our school offers each week. We have been very impressed by the organization and personal attention that the Simon Bolivar Spanish School has provided. Tuesday's school activity was salsa dancing. We attempted to shake our hips to the ever increasing speed of the Latin music, and I think we may have even made some progress by the end of the two hours.

Our first few days in Quito, we enjoyed exploring the city before we were committed to a schedule. Over the weekend, we stumbled upon a city-wide festival where performance stages were set up in various plazas around old town to celebrate Ecuador's Independence. We enjoyed seeing the huge crowds of locals dancing to different kinds of music in the streets, and found that we had a perfect view of one of the largest stages from the balcony of our hotel. We decided a bottle of wine would allow us to properly take advantage of our front row seats.

Due to the intense schedule that we have committed to for our three weeks in Quito, this will probably be one of the only blog updates for a while. I'm guessing we will make up for it the first week of September when we share our photos from the Galapagos Islands. That's right...we have booked our eight-day cruise to see some of the most amazing wildlife in the world. But for now we'll try not to let our imaginations wander too far into that aquatic paradise...after all we still have some substantial work to do before then.

Hasta la proxima vez, Colombia

Jonathan:
We haven't really mentioned our "Cities we could live in" list since we left Guanajuato about four months ago, mainly because Guanajuato has been by itself at the top of a big blank page since then. We've visited some amazing places on this trip-- cities rich in texture and culture, small towns filled to the brim with authenticity and charm, stunning vistas and breathtaking natural wonders. We have marveled at the beauty that has surrounded us since we left home, but very rarely have we been so taken by a new place that we feel like we could stay-- as if we've found some piece of ourselves there that makes us feel like we've always been connected. Guanajuato was like that for me four months ago. This past week as we were wandering through the narrow cobbled streets of colonial Bogotá, I couldn't help but smile as I felt that same sensation well up inside me again and again-- like I was home.

Perched on a high mountain plane at about 8600ft, and nestled up against a jagged mountain ridge that dramatically frames the city's edge, we couldn't help but notice the similarities between Bogotá and our own Boulder. On our way into town from the airport, we noticed that half of the city's main parkway was closed to vehicular traffic, and was packed with cyclists. Thinking it was some sort of race or a special event we asked our cab driver what was going on, and he casually mentioned that everyone likes to ride a bike on Sunday, so they close the freeway for it-- isn't that normal? To continue the parallel in a way that was almost eerie, within two hours of arriving in the city we had found our way to an annual vegetarian food festival that just happened to be held in the botanical gardens that day. If you weren't paying close attention, it could have easily passed for the Boulder farmers market or the Creek Festival-- tent after tent boasting impressive spreads, homemade bread, organic tapenades, gourmet honey and yoga supplies. Needless to say, we were enamoured from the start.

It only got better as we explored Bogotá's beautiful centro viejo (old town), stumbling upon gourmet cafes, handcrafted beer pubs, and pastry shops set around pigeon-filled plazas. It was beautiful. Everywhere we went we were met with smiles and warm greetings. Friendly strangers eager to help us find the right bus, or decode our cryptic Lonely Planet map. This was not the Colombia we expected. There were no hoards of machine gun toting soldiers patrolling the streets, no bomb-proof limos or shady drug lords. Instead we found beauty and smiling faces around every corner; parks full of families having picnics and flying kites; and the only camo fatigues we saw were stretched over busty mannequins in window displays.

In Colombia we found all the unspoiled charm we had been promised, and none of the chaos or danger we had feared. I'm sure its darker side is lurking out there somewhere, but we certainly didn't find it. It's doubtful that we'll ever choose to live there, but Colombia will always hold a special place in our hearts. I can't help but feel that we'll be back again someday.

Cartagena in all its beauty

Megan:
I think we can safely say that Colombia has been the most pleasant surprise of our trip thus far. Cartagena, a history-rich town on the Caribbean Sea, is absolutely gorgeous. The historic center of town where we stayed for six days has narrow streets winding through charming and brightly-colored colonial buildings, parks, plazas and churches. Because Colombia has not experienced an overwhelming number of foreigners in its recent past, the people do not seem to be jaded by the idea of tourism. Instead they are very welcoming and quick to ask what we think of their country or where we are visiting from.

We enjoyed exploring Catagena on our own and meeting up with friends from our sailboat trip at museums, outdoor cafes or even just bumping into them around town. One afternoon was spent wandering though an old stone fortress, Castillo de San Filipe de Barajas, and its complex system of underground tunnels that were built to facilitate the supply and evacuation of the fort. Jon and I really enjoyed exploring the dark and sometimes spooky maze of tunnels. This castle, along with a thick stone wall that encompasses the city center, was built in the 1600's to protect the city from pirate invasions.

We also visited a small volcano, Volcán de Lodo El Totumo, 30 miles outside of the city where lukewarm mud bubbles out of the earth. This 'mud bath' is supposed to have therapeutic qualities - it very well may have been good for the skin, but I could not get past how weird the whole sensation was. There was no bottom to the pit of mud, and everyone was just suspended, neutrally buoyant, neither sinking nor floating. I have never felt anything like it - weightless and incredibly heavy all at the same time. And, let me tell you, it's tough to get clean after an experience like that... we are still finding surprise deposits of mud.

From Cartagena, we flew to Bogotá - our first flight since we arrived in Mexico over five months ago - surprisingly, this is the longest Jon has gone without taking a flight in the past six years. It's amazing how quickly you can get from one part of a country to the next when you aren't riding on a chicken bus. We will be posting our experiences and photos of the refreshing and stylish capital city of Bogotá soon, so stay tuned.

The sailboat Melody

Jonathan:
After 6 days at sea aboard the sailboat '>Melody, it's really nice to be back on dry land. The sailing trip took us and 6 other passengers from Puerto Lindo in northern Panama though the San Blas Islands to Cartagena. For the most part the trip was great, but to be honest, getting tossed around by 10 foot waves in the open ocean for a few days definitely has its challenges. Those of us who weren't lying green-faced next to the rail spent most of our time trying to pin ourselves between various crates on the deck to keep from falling overboard, or attempting (sometimes unsuccessfully) to balance ourselves in the galley just long enough to make a sandwich or heat up some water for coffee. The only thing that seemed to help us forget the incessant rocking was that on two occasions we were joined by several dolphins who came to play in our wake.

Fortunately, we spent most of our 6-day trip cooling our heels in a very remote section of a chain of 300 small islands off the northern coast of Panama, a spot which our fearless Pepsi-fueled captain Mark lovingly refers to as the swimming pool. We spent 4 nights and 3 full days anchored in a reef cove surrounded by 4 or 5 islands, more coral reefs than we could count, and a vast expanse of crystal blue Caribbean sea. The majority of our time was spent in the water-- exploring the numerous coral fields and chasing the reef sharks and amazingly majestic eagle rays that seemed to abound in the area. When we were too tired to swim, we lounged around on the deck of the Melody, or on one of the beautifully green coconut islands within swimming distance of the boat. Like our sailing trip in Guatemala, the other travelers turned out to be great company. We all thoroughly enjoyed making fast friends and sharing travel stories.

Although quarters on the boat were a little tight for 9 people, all of us found ourselves almost constantly reassured that we had made the right decision by going with the Melody. We were fed extremely well (including a dinner which consisted of a giant thanksgiving-style butterball turkey, stuffing and potatoes), and on numerous occasions Mark went out of his way to make sure our trip was as comfortable and rewarding as it could be-- including staying an extra day in the islands at his expense to wait out some rough weather between us and Colombia. The few conversations we had with travelers from other boats along the way were filled with horrid tales of bad canned tuna, stale bread, rigid captains and rough nights at sea (all for the same price we paid).

Having arrived safe and thoroughly satisfied in Cartagena, we've enjoyed the past few days of basking in the sheer beauty and romance of this city's narrow cobbled streets and its breathtaking colonial charm. We'll be here through Sunday before we fly to Bogotá (the capital of Colombia) for a brief 3-day visit on our way to Quito, Ecuador where we're planning to spend a month studying Spanish and working on a community volunteer project.

Taking risks

Megan:
Jon and I have been traveling through Panama for about a week and a half now and have been quite impressed by the variety of climate, landscape and culture. Boquete, a small town in the western state of Chiriquí, has made it on our list of trip highlights. This mountain town remains refreshingly cool during the day, has an impressive restaurant and coffee scene, and offers numerous lush hiking trails that are easy to navigate independently. We took advantage of this opportunity to do a few hikes on our own, crossing over rivers, back country roads, farmland and dense jungle. Our last day of hiking was along the Quetzal Trail, named after the infamous quetzal bird, which connects Boquete to the nearby town of Cerro Punta. We were amazed by the beauty that we saw along the way - misty low-lying clouds, brilliant green fields, a rainbow, and the crystal clear water of the Río Caldera. After hiking for 15km, we arrived in the sleepy town of Cerro Punta where we spent the night before embarking on what ended up being a very full day of travel to Panama City.

This capital city has been a great cultural outlet for both Jon and I. We spent yesterday afternoon at Casa Cor which is an annual architecture and interior design expo showcasing 50 rooms designed by different professionals throughout the country. We have also been enjoying art galleries, historic plazas and many eclectic restaurants. And of course, no trip to this city is complete without stopping by the Panama Canal. What an impressive operation to witness. We were both captivated by the scale of the ships passing through the Miraflores Locks and the detail that must be maintained for everything to run smoothly. We were also pleasantly surprised by the well designed museum filled with explanations, models and photos.

In just a few days, we will bidding farewell to Central America and getting rid of another bulky tour book. We are departing by sailboat for the San Blas Islands off the northern coast of Panama where we will enjoy our last chance to snorkel in the Caribbean, and our final destination will be Caragena, Columbia. Although not originally in our itinerary, we decided to add Columbia to the trip after talking to traveler upon traveler who have recently passed through there and told us not to miss it. We've heard that the cities, the culture, and the people have an unspoiled friendliness, and a welcoming quality that is very unlike anywhere else in Latin America.

This has been a decision Jon and I have thought long and hard about since as US citizens we are told that Columbia is a risky country to be visiting. As we have been sharing this change in plans with family and friends, I have noticed how vulnerable I am to the influence of other people´s opinions. When someone questions this decision, it is easy for me to move into a place of self doubt. Jon and I have both become increasingly aware on this trip how easy it is to operate from a place of fear. It's been interesting to travel alongside people from Europe, Canada, Australia and the rest of the world who have come here without our American sense of paranoia about what might hurt us. They tend to take more risks when it comes to eating, talking to locals, exploring a new area and because of this, they often attract richer experiences. We have come to depend on using common sense and trusting our gut when a situation doesn't feel quite right, but we have also found that if we become too obsessed with what might hurt us, we do not remain open to really experience the places we are visiting.

Still, for the moment, I find myself feeling torn between my intuition and fear. This trip is teaching us both how to take risks; it's teaching us to trust ourselves, and I think our experience will be richer because of it.

What is culture anyway

Jonathan:
Another country down. We've made our way across the border to the city of David in western Panama. After crossing what was undoubtedly the most poorly organized border facility we've seen, we arrived here yesterday feeling a little perplexed by the fact that we fled Costa Rica so suddenly.

Our departure was a bit of a spur of the moment decision, not based on much except that we both felt like leaving. We had originally planned to spend close to a month exploring the vastly diverse natural beauty that has made Costa Rica such a choice destination for so many travelers over the years. Instead, for some reason, after spending just over a week between two different cities we decided it was time to move on.

Costa Rica struck us both as a bit of an anomaly in Central America. Through numerous conversations in neighboring countries, we had been led to expect a sad cultural sell-out of a country where any traces of their rich native history had either been mowed over by steamrollers bearing the Ritz Carlton logo, or turned into a commercial spectacle of roadside "authenticity." It's true that the hoards of camera-toting tourists pouring off of buses in search gift shops, post cards and photo-ops have left their mark-- prices were the highest we had seen on our trip so far, and it was truly difficult to find someone who didn't respond to our Spanish questions in English-- but to be honest, we found it kind of refreshing. The amenities and infrastructure afforded by the millions of tourist dollars pouring in have made Costa Rica... well, comfortable. Taxi's say "taxi" on them, roads are maintained by uniformed workers, and instead of fending off desperate street vendors and beggars as we walked down the street, we were overhearing conversations about dating, movies and friends.

There may not be much left in terms of ties to rich traditions, but surrounded on all sides by nations that have ripped themselves apart with internal conflict and corruption, Costa Ricans have defined themselves by their ability to embrace the New. Throughout their history they've had an ability to roll with the punches, adapt, and redefine themselves. It seems to have left them with a richly cosmopolitan country full of comfort and opportunity, with enough spare time to focus on their families, their schools, and art. I'm not entirely sure what culture is, or what it means when someone tells you a place doesn't have it, but Costa Rica is definitely not lacking.

All that said, I can't really tell you why Megan and I were so ready to leave-- chalk it up to intuition I guess. It wasn't the right time for us to be there. As decided as we were that it was time to go, we are both left with a nagging feeling that we didn't give the country a chance to grow on us. I guess whatever opportunity there might be for us to find a connection with this place will have to wait until next time.

Despite being brief, our time in Costa Rica did provide us with a few important reminders of things we like to do back home which have been sorely lacking from our trip:

During our time in La Fortuna, between the overpriced tours and miscellaneous adventures to nearby volcanoes and waterfalls, we managed to find some time to cook ourselves a few meals in our hostel's shared kitchen. A favorite activity of ours back home, we had not realized how much we missed cooking together until we were doing it again. After doing what we could with the few spices which had been left behind by other travelers, we were both almost giddy as we enjoyed the complex flavors and simple pleasures of our own home cooking. Needless to say, kitchen facilities have moved to the top of the list of what we now look for in a hotel.

A highlight of our time in San Jose was attending the opening reception for a new painting exhibit at the contemporary art and design museum. Megan stumbled into an invitation through a conversation with one of the organizers, and we were both thrilled to go. The exhibit was fabulous, and we both really enjoyed spending an evening surrounded by San Jose's creative elite. It was a pleasant reminder that, despite our dirty backpacks and weathered shoes, the art shows, gallery openings, and performances we so enjoy in our "real" lives are not necessarily things we need to go without.

29 and counting

Megan:
After spending time in two of Nicaragua's more impressive cities, we found our way into some more remote lake regions of the southern part of the country. The first of these was the peaceful Laguna Apoyo just outside of Granada. The crystal clear water and floating dock were great for swimming and kayaking during the day and even better for swimming and stargazing at night.

From there we crossed the largest lake in Central America, Lago Nicaragua, to arrive at the twin volcano island of Ometepe. The larger of the two, Volcán Concepción, is still active, and Volcán Maderas has a misty crater lake nestled at the top. Our first full day on the island, we decided to tackle the rough and muddy 4,000ft hike up to the summit of Maderas. Surrounded by howler and white-faced monkeys, we passed through abundant cloud forests that kept our focus on the rich wildlife of the jungle.

After resting our legs for a few days, we decided it was time to make our way into Costa Rica. A rigorous day of traveling and border crossing would not seem like a very exciting way to spend my 29th birthday, but I now have a stamp from my birthday in my passport.

I woke up at 4:15am to the sound of Jon wishing me a happy birthday. We caught the first ferry of the day back to the mainland, and as we looked out over the peaceful water, we were able to catch our first glimpse of the peak of Volcán Concepción which had been enveloped in clouds all three days prior. We were met at the ferry dock by an accommodating taxi driver who drove us all the way to the border, conveniently eliminating two buses we thought we were going to have to take. We passed through immigration early enough to avoid the long lines that we had heard horror stories about, and got our first good currency exchange rate of the trip. We then discovered that there was in fact a direct bus from the border to our final destination of the day, eliminating another three buses we were expecting to take. The only catch...it didn't leave till 2pm, so we had six hours to kill at the little diner at the border. Jon took this opportunity to buy me a birthday present...a deck of Costa Rica playing cards (since I lost our previous deck last week).

After hanging out there long enough to outlast two shifts of waitresses, we took off on the five hour bus ride through Costa Rica. And it was beautiful...lush landscape, unfamiliar flowers and a little bit of rain to cool things down. As I stared out the bus window, I was amazed how happy I felt on my birthday this year. This was one of the least glamorous days we've had in four months, but that didn't seem to matter. Yesterday had a flow and ease to it and turned out to be quite a wonderful day.

We arrived in the small town of La Fortuna last night with enough time to go out to a very nice dinner. Jon somehow managed to inform the restaurant that it was my birthday, so our waiter brought out a dessert - complete with a candle, 'Feliz Cumpleaños' written in chocolate sauce on the plate, and the whole restaurant singing happy birthday.

...not a bad way to begin my 29th year. We'll see what the rest of the year brings.

Change of plans

Megan:
As it turns out, sandboarding down the fine debris of an active a volcano requires a pretty different technique than snowboarding, but Jon and I managed to figure it out, and as you can see from the photos, we had a great time. During our hike up Volcán Cerro Negro, we had a very interesting conversation with our guide, Carlos, who has lived in León, Nicaragua all his life. He shed some light on the unstable political and economic situations in this country, and shared some disturbing recounts of the US involvement throughout their history. A serious issue here is the growing number of foreign owned businesses who do not reinvest back into the local community. This, along with other factors, has contributed to a tremendous lack of infrastructure in Nicaragua. Carlos' unique perspective on his own country gave us a lot to think about.

After saying goodbye to León, we arrived in Granada on Sunday prepared to do another week of Spanish classes while staying with a local family. Well, there has been a slight change of plans. At the end of our first day of classes on Monday, it was clear that the school wasn't a good fit for us. We didn't get a good vibe from the place or the people and Jon had some particularly bad experiences with a few of the teachers. They did a really poor job of explaining things, and if you know Jon at all, you can see how this may have been a deal breaker.

When we told the mother of our home stay family that we had decided to not continue with the program, she took it upon herself to tell us how wonderful the school was - most likely the best in all of Central America. Jon and I both feel pretty comfortable taking our chances on that one. This most recent living situation was a little odd too. While we were there, we only ate one out of five meals with the family - the other four consisted of Jon and I eating by ourselves in the quiet dining room. I think going through this process and being faced with a few confrontational conversations (some of which were in Spanish) has really been a good learning experience for both of us. It also feels good to move on.

We are now looking for a new school in a different part of Nicaragua which could begin as early as next week. In the meantime, since we were planning on being in classes anyway, we are taking advantage of the motivation we currently have to practice Spanish with each other and review old notes from our previous schools. It's amazing how much material we have from past classes that we never fully learned. I think Jon and I have spoken more Spanish with each other in the past few days than we did all last month. Here's hoping we can keep that up.

Two names on a list

Jonathan:
It's funny, trying to notice changes in your perspective is a little bit like looking in a mirror every day to determine if you're getting taller. Each day feels pretty much the same, and progress seems dauntingly slow if apparent at all. So, you have to look for the milestones-- moments of distinct gratification when you suddenly realize you can do something you couldn't do before-- like being able to reach something on a top shelf, or unexpectedly bumping your head on a door you've been through a thousand times. My personal process has not been exactly comparable to hitting my head, but the idea is the same.

In this case, our milestones are revealing themselves to us through our reactions to the somewhat repetitive trials and tribulations that seem to be an inherent part of an adventure like this-- The rugby scrum of taxi drivers who maul us as we exit a bus terminal, trying to cement their next fair by ripping our backpacks from our hands and shoving them into a trunk before we can remember how to say "get your f*ing hands off my bag" in Spanish; or arriving at a hotel after 10 long hours on a sweaty chicken bus only to discover that our room's full-size bed touches three of the four walls, and the other wall is emanating a combination of dripping and scratching noises. Three months ago experiences like these were enough to send the two of us cowering into a corner, or at least into a swanky, overpriced, American-style hotel.

It seems that in the past month or so we've developed a tolerance for the not-so-plush aspects of this kind of travel, or at least a sense of humor about them. The bitter arguments with stubborn drivers about overpriced fairs have slowly been turning into friendly conversations about how rising gas prices are tough for all of us; and the weird hotel noises provide us with an opportunity to smile at each other through the darkness before drifting off to sleep.

It's interesting though, this new found comfort with the uncomfortable has left me with a bit of an empty feeling that has been tough to put my finger on. It's almost as if our preoccupation with the trials of travel itself was keeping me engaged. Now that we no longer have to work so hard to get what we need, moving from place to place feels like... well, just moving from place to place. In a way it echos the feelings we were having in Mazatlán a few months ago when we decided the "vacation feeling" was wearing off-- Just being in a different place wasn't really doing it for us anymore. Back then we decided we wanted to make a conscious effort to engage more with the places we were visiting, whatever that meant, and at the time I remember my dad saying, "you know, there's only so much snorkeling you can do." I think he was right. It has taken us just over three months of snorkeling, hiking, diving, caving, and sailing to realize that self-indulgent side of this trip just isn't going to be enough. I think we always knew that, but I'm glad we've taken time to be sure.

We've allowed ourselves to become just two more names on an endless list of travelers who signed up to do whatever it is travelers like us enjoy doing. It feels like it's time to start leaving those two spots for someone else, and once again set out to find new ways to engage-- to shift our focus from what we can get to what we might be able to give. That is, after we go snowboarding down the ashes of an active volcano in the morning... we've already booked that one.

The tourist's tour

Jonathan:
After we moved on from Copán, the rest of our time in Honduras seemed to go by in a flash. We made our way north to the popular diving destination of Roatán where we were pleasantly greeted by my dad's former business partner, Don, who moved down to Roatán to pioneer their expat community about 15 years ago. Don was a tremendous host during our time there. Right off the boat we were treated to a thorough tour of the hard-to-reach corners of the island, and a fantastic lunch. His hotel recommendation was perfect, and our last night in town he took us out for Thai food and karaoke. We were tremendously grateful for Don's company and generosity.

Of course the main reason for our visit to Roatán was to wrap up our open water diving certification, and catch a glimpse of the island's more than famous barrier reef. The certification classes could not have gone more smoothly, a truly admirable accomplish for Megan in particular who had...let's say, mixed feelings about diving. In addition to the underwater course, we were treated to a fantastic array of chiseled reef canyons and exotic sea life-- enough to leave us both pretty excited to find more opportunities to dive on this trip. In addition to the diving we had our fill of Roatán's gringo amenities (and prices), like daily happy hours on the beach, umbrella-laden drinks called "monkey la las," and a tour of the southern coast of the island on a rented Vespa.

After making our way back to the mainland we worked our way south by way of Lago Yojoa in central Honduras. There happens to be a microbrewery there run by a guy from Oregon, whose raspberry ale was (in his own words) a welcome break from the "mosquito-piss" beers available in the rest of the country. The brewery's guest house was the base camp for our time at the lake, during which we were given a private tour of the brewery's medicinal plant garden where we sampled a number of tasty natural remedies (including a mouthful of termites, which are evidently a highly effective natural anti-histamine). We also enjoyed an early morning rowboat bird-watching tour run by a quirky British migrant named Malcom.

Our entire trip through Honduras was brightened by the company of our new friends Rose & Jochem, a Dutch couple who we met on our sailing trip in Belize. Our paths have been strikingly similar ever since we hit dry land. We have them to thank for the great beachside pictures of our diving course.

From the lake we broke for the border, and after two long days on the road we've made it to the lovely city of Leon in southwestern Nicaragua. At first glance this town (and country) seem like they are going to be a pleasure. We'll cool our heels here for a few days, and next week we are on our way further east to Granada for some more Spanish school, and another family home stay-- a nice break from the fast-paced, activity-driven, lifestyle that has us both feeling a little... well, like tourists.

Honduras... here we come, and there we go

Megan:
Internet cafes must be getting harder to come by, because as we left Honduras and entered Nicaragua on a 'chicken bus' this morning, we realized that we had not yet written anything about our two weeks of adventures in the Banana Republic. Our first stop in Honduras was Copán Ruinas where we enjoyed the charming city center, visited a butterfly preserve and explored the intricately carved Mayan ruins for which this town is named. We wondered how impressive the ruins would seem after seeing Tikal only a week prior, but we were pleasantly surprised by the detail and high level of craft. After a few days in Copán, we set out for the well known reef island of Roatán off the northern coast of Honduras where Jon & I successfully completed our open water diving certification!

We have assembled a slide show from our time in Copán, and we have a lot of photos from the rest of our time in Honduras, but unfortunately our photo server has been down for a few days. We are looking forward to sharing these along with our latest thoughts and experiences soon.

Feet on solid ground

Megan:
We just stepped foot back on land yesterday after six days of sailing from Rio Dulce, Guatemala up to the southern reef islands of Belize. After weathering about three days of a slow moving storm, we finally saw the sun - and what a glorious sight it was! The timing could not have been better because that was the day we set anchor at the most beautiful reef of the trip. I have never seen such interesting coral and beautifully colored fish. We were also able to swim with sea turtles, eagle rays, nurse sharks, barracudas and a massive wall of jellyfish that were luckily not the stinging type. The sailboat was surrounded by crystal clear water and white sand on all sides which meant we could begin snorkeling right off the boat in all directions.

Those of you who know me well realize that I had a little apprehension going into this trip. The idea of snorkeling has always been pretty intimidating - I mean who knows what's lurking in that endless expanse of salty water. During the course of this trip I was able to relax and genuinely appreciate all of the beauty that this part of the Caribbean Sea had to offer. And it was truly spectacular.

Jon and I felt very lucky to have spent our time with such a great group of people on this trip. Eight other travelers from Holland, Denmark, Australia and England - each with their own perspective on life and different motives for being in Central America. We enjoyed sharing stories during meals (which were always quite impressive considering the size of the kitchen the crew was working with), playing an innovative homemade Dutch card game in the evenings, and splashing around in the water every time the boat stopped. We had assumed that the interesting cultural connections on this trip would be with local people, but we've been pleasantly surprised by how much we have gained by getting to know other travelers from around the world.

We spent our day yesterday waiting by roadsides and transferring from one bus to the next, making our way to Copán Ruinas in Honduras. This morning we experienced our first real shower in eight days - it's amazing how the simple things can make all the difference in the world.

...The rest of Guatemala

Jonathan:
After two intense weeks studying Spanish in Antigua, we've spent our last week working our way north through Guatemala on our way to the small town of Rio Dulce where we are now. Without really intending to, within four days we managed to do just about every adventure activity Guatemala has to offer, and this country is an adventure's paradise.

Here are a few of the highlights: We went tubing down a crystal clear aqua-colored jungle river; we descended about 1km deep into a natural river cave with only candles to light our way (many times it was too deep to stand, so we had to swim while holding our candles above our heads); we ascended a rock wall to reach a high ledge above a deep pool, and we jumped off into the water below-- inside the cave; we slung ourselves about 20 meters out over a river on a gigantic rope swing, only to let go and fall into the river (sometimes gracefully, sometimes not); we went tubing again in a different river; we descended a waterfall on a rope ladder to explore a dramatic natural cavern behind the water; and we spent an afternoon swimming through a tranquil series of natural limestone pools. To cap off our action-packed days, we spent our evenings hanging out at our youth hostel with other travelers, drinking Moza (our favorite Guatemalan beer), and playing a giant Jenga game made out of 2x4s before going to bed in a bamboo hut with a grass roof.

Yesterday we took a sunrise tour to the Mayan ruins at Tikal. Having gotten up at 3am to make our way from Flores to the ruins before dawn, we arrived at the top of the tallest temple just as the fog was lifting to reveal the absolutely massive series of dramatic temple pyramids peaking out of the dense jungle below. We watched the sunrise in silence, and basked in the rich energy of this ancient Mayan capital.

This afternoon, we will depart from Rio Dulce on a seven-day sailing trip up through the southern reef islands off the coast of Belize. We'll see how it goes since it's been raining here for a solid two days, and evidently there's a decent sized storm on the way... but we are looking forward to trying out our sea legs for a few days, and getting our first glimpse of the abundantly rich sea life of the western Caribbean.

Antigua... within reach

Megan:
So much has happened in the three weeks since we last wrote. We spent most our time in Antigua, Guatemala taking in four hours per day of intense one-on-one Spanish lessons for two weeks. The colorful city of Antigua is nestled between three active volcanoes and filled with cobblestone streets, rich textures, and wonderful little restaurants - I think the only down side was that almost everyone spoke at least a little English.

Jon and I stayed with a local family again while in school which was a very rewarding and educational experience in itself. We spent every meal around the kitchen table with the mom, dad, three sons and one other student from the school. We enjoyed chatting with Sylvia, the mom, about the variety of Guatemalan meals she prepared for us each day; and with the boys we enjoyed discussing all the homework we had to do each afternoon - for us it was Spanish and for them it was English. It was refreshing to see that even in the relatively traditional country of Guatemala, the father of the house, Marvin, often helped his Sylvia with everything that needed to be done to keep the household running smoothly. I was pleasantly surprised during our first meal together to realize that I know a lot more of this new language than I did when we were sharing meals with our host family in Guanajuato.

The one-on-one teacher experience that our school offered provided potential to learn a tremendous amount of material in a small amount of time since everything was tailored specifically to our level of experience with the language. Jon was able to take advantage of this situation from the beginning as he and his instructor, Gustavo, hit it off quite well. As you can imagine, if the dynamic between student and instructor is not a good fit, it becomes apparent pretty quickly. I seemed to fit into this second category the first week, struggling to resonate with my teacher´s slower pace and style of interacting. For some reason it was really challenging for me to decide how I wanted to handle this tough situation.

After deliberating for hours over whether to request a new teacher for the second week - asking myself "what if the new teacher isn't as good? what if it's awkward to see my current instructor in the hall on Monday?" you know, the typical questions you ask yourself when breaking up with someone - I decided I needed a change! The second week I got a fresh start with a new teacher - I told her specifically what I was hoping to cover that week, and low and behold that's exactly what we went over and she was able to answer all of my questions quite concisely and thoroughly.

It felt pretty empowering to have facilitated a positive outcome for this unhealthy and seemingly unproductive situation. It´s amazing how obvious the solution seemed once I experienced a more rewarding alternative. I was reminded that when something doesn't quite fit, I need to take the initiative to change it - it's not worth settling when something better is within reach.