A Peruvian Expedition

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.

– Mark Twain

My sister-in-law and her family had visited Peru a few years ago, and ever since we heard about their trip, we’ve been wanting to go.  Unfortunately, we had considered skipping it on this adventure, mostly because we were running short on time but also because it was very expensive to fly into and out of the country.  With Covid, most land borders are closed, and flying is your only real transportation option.  But, Henry had been dying to try a guinea pig on a stick (we can thank Henry’s cousin for sharing that tidbit), and Brian and I had been really wanting to go.  So, we bit the bullet and booked our flight from Bogota, Colombia to Lima, Peru.

If you’ve been following our blog, you may remember that we were robbed in Bogota on Saturday morning on the way to the airport, so it made for a pretty crazy travel day.  While we were at the bus stop, a car pulled up and the men inside pretended to be police.  They took Brian’s phone, my phone, and a dead debit card from us before they sped away, but by the grace of God, no one was hurt.  Thankfully we still had our passports, Henry’s cellphone, and our credit cards, so we could get by easily enough.  We were all okay, but we were pretty shaken up.  After filling out our police report, we boarded our plane with no issues.

We arrived in Lima and took a taxi to the Passion Hostel in the Barranco neighborhood.  We rang the doorbell from the street, and a man stuck his head out the window to check us out.  After a moment or two, we must have been deemed safe enough, and he opened the door to let us in.  The manager of the hostel, Luis, was very nice, and after a few minutes chatting with him, he let us know that he would make an exception for us.  He typically didn’t allow children in the hostel, but he would allow us to stay there.  We apologized because we had completely missed that their website said they were an adults-only lodging.  I’m not sure that Luis could ever fully understand how grateful we were that he bent the rules for us.  We’d had a horrible morning, and emotionally, we were very much on edge.  I’m sure we could have found another place to stay, but not having to do that then and there was a huge blessing.  Luis showed us to our room which had two sets of bunk beds and a private bathroom.  It was warm and comfortable, and after a very rough morning, it gave us peace to know we were finally somewhere we could drop our guard a little. 

We spent the next two days not doing much of anything other than trying to recover from the robbery.  We changed every password we could think of.  We called our insurance to report the theft and called our cell service company to stop service on the phones.  We knew that the thieves had our phones and that they were gone for good, and we assumed they’d use them for parts, or wipe them and resell them. Unfortunately, we missed most of Lima because of this.  Aside from getting food each day, we spent most of our time cooped up in our tiny little room trying to get back on our feet. 

Although we missed seeing much of the city in the first few days, we did get to enjoy a wide variety of Peruvian cuisine. Peru is known for being a culinary hotspot, and it didn’t take us long to understand why. We drank fresh fruit juices from the central market each morning. The restaurants were very good and had a wide selection of foods. My favorite meal was a delicious roasted chicken. Brian had been eagerly awaiting a chance to try Peruvian ceviche, and he wasn’t disappointed; he ate more ceviche than is probably advisable. Henry tried tuco tuco, but wasn’t excited about it. After that, he ate his weight in chicken wings and burgers. We were also able to try a Pisco Sour, a local favorite cocktail; Brian really liked it, but I decided to stick to my standard pina colada.

Lima is on the Pacific coast, and the city itself sits on top of cliffs overlooking the ocean.  We managed to make it down to the beach one afternoon, but it was too cool to actually swim.  The weather was strange in Lima.  We were very near the equator and at sea level, and the temperatures were cool enough to be comfortable in pants and long sleeves.  The surfers on the beach all wore their wetsuits as they enjoyed the waves.  I don’t know if I just had a misguided view of what the equatorial regions of the world were supposed to feel like, but Lima completely upset my perceptions.  I’m pretty sure I learned in school that it was supposed to be very warm around the equator all the time, but here it was not. It was cool to comfortable during the day and chilly at night.

We flew out to Cusco on Tuesday night after spending four days in Lima.  Cusco is a hub of sorts for visiting Machu Picchu and the Sacred Valley.  It is also at 3,400 meters elevation, so it’s a great place to visit for a few days to acclimate to the higher elevation before you head out to the ruins and begin climbing.  The high elevation makes Cusco that much colder, and we found ourselves bundling up in the evenings.

We landed around 11 pm, and our taxi driver took us to our Airbnb.  We stayed in a cute little private room above the Wasicleta Restaurant in Cusco.  The place was adorable.  It was bicycle themed, and there was a bicycle rental shop in the building as well.  The courtyard was brightly decorated, and when we arrived, they were playing 90’s alternative music.  Brian and I liked it immediately.  Our room was on the second floor of the 100 year old building.  It was spacious and bright, and we laughed at how every board in the floor creaked as you walked across the room. 

On Wednesday, our first day in Cusco, we explored the city and found ourselves at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Plaza de Armas.  We were the only patrons on the rooftop, and because the sun was so bright, we were given sombreros to wear while we dined.  We enjoyed the scenic view and laughed throughout the meal at how silly we must look.  Henry and Brian decided to try some alpaca dishes, but I was less adventurous.  My meal was good, but theirs were divine.  I picked at Henry for eating the cute little alpacas, but he had decided that cute or not, they were delicious! 

On Thursday, we walked up to the Sacsayhuaman ruins (when pronounced, it sounds similar to Sexy Woman).  Cusco is the second largest city in Peru, and it was one of, if not the, main Incan city.  It is located in a large valley and surrounded by beautiful hills.  On top of one of the hills, the Incas built the Sacsayhuaman facility as a lookout post to guard their city.  On the way to the top, we met three men who were from Lima and were visiting the area for the first time.  They were excited to meet people from the United States, and although we couldn’t understand each other well, we had a nice conversation.  I asked them if they wanted me to take their picture together, and they quickly agreed. But instead of giving me their camera, they took turns taking pictures with us.  In all the countries we had been to before, people would nod when we said we were from the US.  The men from Lima seemed thrilled to meet people from the US.  It was a humbling feeling to remember just how blessed we are to be from such a great place.

As we wandered, we admired the stone work and the sheer will it took to move the giant stones into place.  Henry got distracted by a group of 8 alpacas on the other side of the field from where we were.  We were walking towards them when a small dog got loose from its owner and decided that it needed to keep everyone safe by running the alpacas off.  We watched as this little bity dog chased off 8 grown alpacas, and I nearly peed on myself watching them run.  They were adorable.  They finally stopped running a few hundred yards later, and the satisfied little dog went back to its owners.  We decided to walk over to the alpacas again, and Henry was able to get much closer to them this time.  Eventually, we steered him back to the ruins, and we finished exploring the area.  The view from the ruins was beautiful.  You could clearly see the Plaza de Armas, and it seemed that there were buildings covering every square inch of the valley floor below.

On Friday, we were ready to head to Ollantaytambo to start our Machu Picchu adventure.  We went to a local restaurant across the street from our hotel for lunch before we headed out of town.  The locals seemed to love it despite it only having a few tables, so we decided to give it a shot.  The server quickly told us what she had to offer for the day, and when she realized we didn’t know what any of it was and couldn’t speak Spanish well, she recruited the help of another customer sitting beside us to help her communicate.  He recommended that we try their milanese, so we did.  While the server and her mother prepared our food, he talked them into giving us a plate of samples so we could try the local fare.   The server brought us a plate with several types of meat and a boiled corn dish for us to try.  While we didn’t care for much of it, we ate it politely and were grateful for their hospitality.  We talked with the man about local sights to see until our food arrived.  The man was very polite and was eager to share his culture with us.  I thought about how foreigners may be treated in my hometown, and I am sad to say that he probably would not have been received quite so warmly there. 

After lunch, we checked out of our room and headed for the Colectivo to catch our ride to Ollantaytambo.  As she gave us directions, the server at Wasicleta had warned us that when we got close to the station, it would get scary.  We had no idea what she meant until we got close to the station, and it got scary.  A block from the station, four or five taxi drivers saw us coming, and each one started offering us their deals to get us to ride with them.  So, we are walking on the sidewalk with this group of men walking backwards shoulder to shoulder and shouting over one another to try to convince us that each had the best deal.  At some point, Brian and I just looked at each other and laughed because, even if we’d wanted to hear them, we couldn’t have because of the others in the group.  Someone said ‘Colectivo’, and I said Yes!  Immediately the other men backed off while the one steered us to the waiting Colectivo van.  We took the last three available seats, and then we relaxed a bit when the van took off.

The ride was only about an hour and a half long, but on the bumpy road with music blaring in the van, it seemed twice that long.  When we finally got out, we found ourselves in a sleepy little community with  only a one way road through the middle of it.  Police officers were directing traffic to keep things moving, but most people simply walked to get to their destinations.  After walking a few blocks through the meandering alleys, we found the Rumi Sonqo Hostel nestled in a group of buildings very close to the base of the Ollantaytambo ruins. 

Ollantaytambo is also in a valley, and overlooking the city are the beautiful Ollantaytambo ruins.  There is a little debate about what these ruins were in their heyday.  The design appears to be militaristic, but there are religious aspects high on the mountain.  The leader of the Incas lived here at one time as well.  Even without knowing the details, these were amazing to look at.  The ruins are in very good shape, and the town itself is worth the visit as well. 

On Saturday morning, we got up very early in the morning, ate our breakfast at the hostel, and made our way to the Ollantaytambo train station.  We had bought our tickets online, but we didn’t have a way to print them, so we checked in at the office.  After getting our boarding passes and filling out health questionaires, we waited on the platform to hop aboard our train car.  The train was very nice, and the three of us sat around a table for the hour and a half ride.  It was beautiful riding beside the river, and we saw several different groups ruins on the journey.

When we reached the Aguas Calientes station at 9:00, we hopped off and explored the town while we looked for some food.   With Covid, Machu Picchu has changed their visiting procedures, and when you purchase your tickets, you purchase them for a specific hour you can enter the park.  We knew we had a 30 minute bus ride up the mountain before our 12:00-1:00 timeslot.  We had a little time to kill, and we didn’t want to go up on an empty stomach. 

Our lunch was delicious, and we stepped out of the restaurant just in time to get in line for the bus.  The buses leave every 5-10 minutes, but the length of the line when we walked up was worrisome.  We watched the time tick by as we waited and waited and waited.  Finally, the bus arrived, and shortly after 12:00, we finally got on board. 

The ride up the mountain from Aguas Caliente to Machu Picchu was absolutely beautiful.  The pictures simply do not do it justice.  The mountain is huge, as are all of the other mountains in the area.  In Tennessee, the mountains are broad and tall so when you look out at the horizon, you see several squatty triangles staggered across the horizon.  Here the mountains are very narrow and tall, so they appear more like jagged teeth.  It’s hard to imagine anyone could even climb these mountains 500 years ago much less that they could build a city on one!  The road up the mountain is full of switchbacks, and the cliffs on the side are dizzying. Through each stretch, we’d pass a set of stairs coming out of the woods that hikers can use to climb to the top instead of taking the bus. The gentleman sitting beside Brian on the bus was from Peru and had visited Machu Picchu several times. He told him that when he’d first come to Machu Picchu back in the late 1980’s, the village children would use the stairs and race the buses to the top of the mountain – and win! At the top, they would ask tourists for tips to celebrate their winning the race. We didn’t have any racers, but our bus made it to the top with no issues. After getting through the gate, we hurriedly walked to the check in for the Huayna Picchu hike.

In most of the pictures you see of Machu Picchu, you see the Huana Picchu mountain in the background towering high over the city.  There is a trail that goes to the top of it as well, but because of the terrain, there are a limited number of tickets sold to go that far.  Typically these tickets sell out months in advance, but three days earlier, when I bought our tickets for Machu Picchu, we were surprised to see that there were quite a few still available.  The hike is strenuous, but apparently, we really like a challenge.  With less conviction about it than Brian, I bought the additional passes, and then prayed that I wouldn’t regret it.

We knew we wanted to do the Huayna Picchu hike first before we explored the ruins because we wanted to ensure we had plenty of time.  So, we headed straight for the check-in station once we were off the bus.  As we walked the path, a tour guide asked us where we were going, probably thinking we were lost, and we told him.  He told us to hurry because if we weren’t there in the next 10 minutes (before the 1:00 window), we wouldn’t be allowed in.  So we ran.  Ok, we walked really fast; I don’t run.  We made it to the check in station and signed the log at a few minutes before 1:00, and then we started the trail. 

I am terrified of heights, but I tend to have more issues at lower elevations.  For example, if I’m 40 feet off the ground, I get vertigo and feel like I’m going to pass out.  If I get 400 feet off the ground, it still freaks me out, but I don’t get the vertigo.  I guess at 40 feet, I feel like its going to hurt really, really bad if I fall.  At 400 feet, once I’m past the few seconds of absolute terror of falling, I know I won’t feel a thing.  But I digress.

We had heard that the hike was not for the faint of heart.  Not only was it strenuous, but because of the steep mountain, there were lots of places that those with a fear of heights may struggle.  Honestly, I didn’t have much trouble with it.  I wasn’t hanging out on any edges, mind you, but it was way better than I expected.  The steps were tough.  There were lots of them, and they just never seemed to end.  The hardest part of the hike to me was near the end, and it was mostly physical.  There are what feels like hundreds of small 4-5” wide steps going up the mountain to the peak.  For these, I got down on my hands and feet and just climbed them like a ladder.  Easy peasy.  It really wasn’t all that bad.

The view from the mountain top was spectacular.  In this region of the world, it is far less common to have beautiful cloudless days than it is rainy, murky days.  We were in rainy season, and it had rained the night before as well as that morning.  We fully expected nasty weather, and we had feared that we would get to the top of the mountain to find that we couldn’t see anything.  But thankfully, that was not the case for us.  We had the most beautiful day to make the climb, and when we got to the top, you could see Machu Picchu and the surrounding mountains very, very well. 

We hung out on some giant boulders for a while enjoying the view and contemplating the impending climb down.  I have a hard time with climbing up because I get winded, but Henry and Brian typically struggle more with coming down because of their legs.  I wasn’t looking forward to it, either, mainly because backing down those steps on my hands and feet didn’t sound that appealing.  For the most part, the climb down wasn’t too bad either, though.  We were tired, and when we made it to the bottom, our legs were all trembling.  But we made it.  And we still had plenty of time to explore the ruins.

We hadn’t paid for a guide because we didn’t want to have to explore at the guide’s pace, but walking through the ruins it might have been nice to have one.  There were a couple of guides walking with their groups near us, and occasionally we would pick up an interesting tidbit or two as they were talking.  It felt wrong to listen to them too much, but where we could, we stood quietly and learned about the Incas. 

There were a few llamas scattered around the ruins, and we found out that they are brought there to keep the lawns manicured.  Henry was able to pet one of them, and that made his day.

On our way out, we stopped at the last viewpoint for a final picture, and while we were waiting in line, the most interesting thing happened.  A group of pre-teen/teenage girls were standing near us, and they were giggling like girls sometimes do.  Finally, one of them came up to me and Henry and embarrassedly asked if they could take a photo with Henry.  I laughed, and we both said yes.  Henry was completely confused as to why three young girls and a grown woman all took turns taking their picture with him.  If he wouldn’t have been wearing his mask, I bet they would have seen his face was beet red.  They thanked him and moved on, but Brian and I picked on Henry about it the rest of the day.

We took the bus ride back down the mountain to Aguas Calientes and had dinner on the patio of a local restaurant.  We were all exhausted, and couldn’t wait to be back.  We boarded the train to Ollantaytambo, and within minutes, Henry and I were both asleep.  The train to Machu Picchu had been buzzing with excitement, and the train back was full of snores; apparently we weren’t the only ones who were worn out.

The next morning, we found a taxi driver to take us to see the Moray ruins.  The ruins are very high on a mountain in Moray, and our taxi driver had a little fun as he raced down the dirt roads and around the s-curves to get us to the top.  Henry was white-knuckled, every time the driver reached a curve and honked his horn to let oncoming traffic know to be on the lookout for him.  With cliffs on both sides, the ride was a little scary, but the view of the valley below was breathtaking enough to keep us occupied.  These were about 30 minutes outside of Ollantaytambo, and they were unique in that they appear to be purely agricultural in nature.  The Incas mastered the art of terraces as they learned to live on these mountains, and the Moray ruins are a testament to their creativity and learning.  The design of the terraces, in conjunction with their location, creates unique climates that vary depending on their depth.  Soil samples taken in the area indicate that soils from other areas were brought in and introduced to these terraces so that they were optimum for plant growth.  Like all of the other terraces from the Incan period, this one was irrigated as well.  There were at least four of the terrace pits in the area, and the stone work was impressive.  Each level was precise, and the steps that were built into the wall were clever and practical. 

We arranged for our taxi driver to take us back to Cusco the following day, and he agreed to stop by the Pisac ruins for us to visit there as we passed through.  That morning, we woke up and enjoyed our breakfast with our host again, and then William, our driver, met us in the town square.  We arrived at Pisac about an hour later.  Pisac is about 30 minutes outside of Cusco, and it was another Incan city on a hill.  I’d read in several blogs that the Pisac ruins were a favorite to see, and I understand why.  They sprawled across the mountains as far as you could see.  Above the terraces were the remnants of homes you could walk through. 

While meandering through the structures on the hillside, we saw a local woman and her baby sheep.  It may have been the cutest thing I’d ever seen.  The little lamb was hopping along and wandering beside its owner.  You couldn’t help but smile watching it play along.

We left Pisac and grabbed a bite to eat for lunch.  William joined us at a local restaurant that he said his mother helped cook at sometimes.  Our meals were good, but the trout watching us from William’s plate was a little difficult to stomach.  Apparently it is common to eat the fish whole here, but Henry and I are a little soft when it comes to that; it was gross.  William told us about some delicacies to try, and that roasted cuy (guinea pig) was one of his favorites.  We had seen it in a few restaurants, but where we did, it was very expensive.  Henry was disappointed that he hadn’t had a chance to try it, and with us leaving Cusco that evening, chances were slimming that we’d find it again.

On the way back to Cusco, we were also able to stop briefly at the Tambomachay, Puka Pukara, and Q’enqo ruins.  These three sites are all significantly smaller areas, but they are located close together on the ridge as you descend into Cusco.  Tambomachay was a water temple that the Incas believed was sacred because of the consistent and pure water stream that flowed from it regardless of the season.  It is believed that the site was used as a ceremonial bathing location for nobility.  Puka Pukara was likely a guard post or lodge for travellers.  The remains of houses and storerooms are still visible, and the hillside view was worth the visit all by itself.  The Q’enqo ruins weren’t much to look at as most of the area was blocked off from walking through.  This area was different than most as there wasn’t intricate stonework there; it looked more like a pile of rubble.  Apparently this area was used for sacrifices, death rituals, and embalming, though.

Henry found a Peruvian cowboy hat at the Q’enqo ruins, and he was so excited.  It cost him all of $3.50, and it’ll probably get destroyed along the way, but he had been wanting one for quite some time. 

While we were visiting the sites, William also drove us by the Cristo Blanco statue.  We’d seen the statue from Cusco, and it was very near the Sacsayhuaman ruins when we visited there.  We walked by to get our pictures, and there was a lady with llamas waiting in the shade.  For a little donation, we all got to pet the big llama, and Henry, the man-child who adores all animals, got to hold the 4-day old baby llama.  He was thrilled.

William dropped us off at the airport, and we flew back to Lima that night.  It was the Monday before Thankgsiving, and we had a lot to do.  After a short rest at our Airbnb, Brian headed back late Tuesday night to the US.  We had purchased new phones and several supplies that we needed, and he needed to go pick them up.  I still can’t believe it was cheaper for him to fly home to get them than it would have been to buy them in Peru. While he was there, he also was able to send home some extra clothes/supplies we had and didn’t want to carry any longer.  While Henry and I spent the day watching movies and swimming in our tiny hotel pool, he took care of business for us.  By midnight Wednesday night, Brian returned with our booty and hit the sack.  We spent Thanksgiving day enjoying country ham and desserts that Brian’s sister sent back for us and opening our bags of supplies like it was Christmas day!  Its funny how the long johns and packing cubes we bought on a normal day would be less than exciting, but after not having anything new for three full months, they felt like a wonderful gift! 

In preparation for our trip to Argentina, we needed to get COVID tested.  So on Sunday we went back to the airport to get our COVID tests, and we decided to use this opportunity to spend some time exploring the Lima downtown area.  Our driver dropped us near the Plaza de Armas in Lima, and within 5 minutes of walking down the sidewalk, we were met by a mass crowd of soccer fans celebrating as they paraded down the street.  The police were in full force, and the crowd was in control, but it was interesting to see them at it again in the middle of the day.  After we grabbed some lunch, we explored the area for a bit.  We found a lovely little park nearby that we wandered through and looked at some ruins within the city of Lima before we made our way back to our room.

On our last morning in Lima, we checked out of our hotel at 10 am, and we had a long day to kill.  We decided to utilize some of that time in the basement of the hotel while we did our laundry so that we’d arrive in Argentina with a full bag of clean clothes.  While we were biding our time in the laundry room, Henry went to the hotel’s gym to burn off some pent-up energy.  After riding the stationary bike for a few miles, he entertained himself with a jump rope.  Apparently, we have failed henry, and until this time, Brian and I didn’t realize that he still didn’t know how to jump rope.  Brian tried giving him some pointers, but he wasn’t having much luck with it.  An MMA fighter named Alfonso was working out in the gym at the time.  He and his trainer, Javier, saw Henry struggling, and they took the time to try to help him while they got their workouts in.  They gave him a few pointers and a whole lot of encouragement, and Henry finally caught onto it.  Henry was really proud of himself, and we were really grateful for these men.  They were busy, and had no reason to even notice our kid was struggling.  Even so, they took their time to help him and pour that support into him. By the time he left the gym, Henry had successfully jumped the rope 26 consecutive times. Not bad for a kid that could barely get two jumps less than an hour earlier.

We had a late flight out of Lima, and after spending the afternoon enjoying an outdoor café near our hotel, we finally headed to the airport.  Our Uber picked us up outside of the café, and the 45 minute ride to the airport began.  About 10 minutes away from the airport, we got stuck.  We were in a 6 lane road (3 lanes each direction) and we were trying to turn left onto another 6 lane road (3 lanes in each direction).  Traffic was very heavy, and instead of using the traffic signals, a police officer was directing traffic.  For some reason, he would not allow our lanes to move forward, so for the 30 minutes we sat there, drivers in our lanes showed their disapproval by honking constantly and yelling very aggressively at him.  Our driver obviously was uncomfortable by the situation as he locked the car doors and told us to keep our phones put away.  Motorcycles here typically weave their way to the front of traffic, and while we were stuck, they worked their way forward in front of the cars in our lane and forced their way through the cars to cross the road.  Those drivers in cars were stuck where they were.  Finally, the car drivers started forcing their way forward too, and finally the police officer allowed them to go.  With all the traffic, we could not turn left.  Our driver took us past the intersection and turned an impressive u-turn to get us back on our route.  Thankfully, we made it to the airport in time and got in line to check in at the airport.

We started to relax as we waited in line thinking that the worst was finally behind us. The line wasn’t overly long, and the agents at the check in counter were processing everyone quickly enough. A young lady agent began walking through the line and asking to see all of the required documentation to ensure that we were all ready for the ticket counter when we got there. We’d gotten the list of requirements from the airline the night before, and we felt like we were ready. Unfortunately, when she got to us, she disagreed. On top of passports, proof of vaccination, COVID PCR test results, health affidavits, and proof of onward travel, we had to show that we had sufficient medical insurance that would cover us if we were diagnosed with COVID while we were staying in Argentina.

We have travel insurance that covers this, but because our policy doesn’t specifically call out COVID, Coronavirus, or anything similar, the agent wouldn’t accept this as proof. Our travel insurance company considers a COVID diagnosis just like any other medical issue, but Argentina requires that your policy specifically state something to that affect. It was 8 pm, and our flight was scheduled to leave at around 11. We had plenty of time, but I began panicking at the thought of not being allowed on the flight. Standing in line for the ticket counter, I called the insurance company, and they said they’d email me a letter of coverage that we could expect in the next 1-3 days. I explained that my flight would leave without me in just a few hours, and they offered to rush the letter. Their office closed at 9, but if I could send an email like they specified, they would expedite my request. If I hadn’t heard anything by 8:40, I should call them back. While I was on the phone, Brian was scrubbing their website, and thankfully he’d found some blurb on their site that said that Covid would be covered under their policy.

We called the agent back over to us, and after a few minutes of pleading, she allowed that to suffice. We made it through the rest of the line with no issue. By 8:50 when we got through security, I had still not received the letter of coverage, and since the insurance office would be closed at 4:00 am when we landed, we didn’t want to risk any issues in customs if the letter didn’t come through. We called the insurance company back, but the person I reached this time couldn’t grasp the issue quite so well. After angrily arguing that they would either be providing the letter in the next 10 minutes or refunding me for my missed flight, they finally helped us out and got the letter to us. We made it on the flight with time to spare and some peace of mind about getting through customs. Spoiler alert: no one in Argentina even asked to see it; all of the effort to get the official letter and all of my panicking was for nothing.

Peru was one of my favorite countries, and I would gladly go back there.  The weather was baffling, but the food was delicious, the people were kind, and the country was beautiful.  I wish we had more time to explore the rest of Peru.  I would have liked to see more of the Sacred Valley, but also I would have enjoyed seeing all the colors on Rainbow Mountain, exploring the beginnings of the Amazon jungle, hiking the mountains of Cordillera Huayhuash, visiting the Chachapoyan ruins, seeing the seals of the Bellestas Islands (Peru’s Galapagos), and exploring the floating islands on Lake Titicaca.  There’s so much to see and do here that it could take months to fully enjoy it all.  We couldn’t swing that kind of time on this trip, but maybe next time!

Exploring Colombia

Resilience is accepting your new reality even if it is less good than the one you had before. You can fight it, you can do nothing but scream about what you’ve lost, or you can accept that and try to put together something that’s good.

– Elizabeth Edwards

I was nervous about going to Colombia. It would be the first country for us on another continent, and this happened to be one that had a reputation for crime and corruption. I can also still remember watching the movie Romancing the Stone when I was a kid and the jungle and the scene with the alligators stuck with me from all of those years ago. I remembered Cartagena being beautiful and the main characters in the movie enjoying the local rhythms as they danced together in the city. Would Colombia be the scary place I’d heard about where I would constantly be looking over my shoulder, or would I be taken in by the beauty and culture? I really didn’t know what to expect, and I was surprised to experience both. Let me start at the beginning.

We’d debated for days on how to get to Colombia from Panama. You cannot cross the Darien Gap by land, so buses were out of the question. Should we would fly, or should we take a boat through the beautiful San Blas Islands? I really wanted to take the boat because I had wanted to spend a few days in the San Blas Islands for quite some time. In the end, we decided that we really didn’t have the 5 extra days to spend on the boat, and the flight turned out to be slightly cheaper.

We flew from Panama City to Cartagena, Colombia on a Saturday morning. Shortly after the plane touched down, we grabbed our taxi and headed for the hotel. We were staying just outside of the historic district which is very near the ocean. Our driver turned off the shoreline highway, and we drove under an arched bridge and through the old city walls. Once we were inside the wall, it felt like we were transported to another time and place. Old enormous colonial homes and businesses replaced the standard big city buildings. These structures were all very well kept and colorful with beautiful gardens and decorative balconies. The streets were cobblestone, and there were monuments and artistic details on nearly every corner. It was crazy how by going through the wall, the whole atmosphere changed. The new city was big and bustling, but the old city was beautiful and serene.

Our driver got us to our hotel, and we entered a high-ceilinged foyer with a single large flight of white marble stairs. The reception area was at the top of the stairs, and we got checked in with no issues. Our room was up another flight, and we had the only room on the floor. This hotel was very small, and each of the 6 floors only had 1 or 2 rooms each. From our floor, you could continue up a modern spiral staircase to the others. On the 5th floor, the hotel had a community lounge area with a balcony that overlooked the street, and on the roof, it had a very nice pool to relax in. Our room was spacious and bright, and we had windows overlooking the hotel’s inner courtyard.

Outside our room, the city was hopping. A main bus terminal was directly across the street from the hotel, and there was a small mall just beyond that. At all hours of the day, people were milling about or walking to their destinations. There was always music coming from one of the businesses, and the environment was relaxed despite the busyness of the city.

On our second day in Cartagena, I talked Henry into going on a free city walking tour of the old town with me. For two hours, we followed our guide, raptly listening to the history of the area, learning how the old city used to be an island (but now is not), learning about the original residents and the Spanish who chose to settle there, and hearing about the criminal/violent history of the region and how Colombia is fighting hard to change it. I loved it. Henry did not. He patiently waited for it to be over, but that was about it. I loved walking up on the old walls and imagining the citizens defending themselves against the pirate attacks, and I enjoyed learning about the men and women who stood up for the defenseless slaves that were brought to be sold in the port and how they changed the course of history by doing so. I really enjoyed the old city.

And we enjoyed the rest of Cartagena also. The streets of Getsemani were colorful and vibrant and full of life. The ‘regular’ people lived here while the upper class made their homes in the Old town. We felt more at home here, and we loved the atmosphere. The art was amazing as well.

On another day, we explored the beaches of the town. We had planned to go for a swim out by the old city, but when we got there, we found that the beaches in that area were closed. Instead, we walked a few kilometers to the Bocagrande area and ventured out into the water there. The water was cool and refreshing, and the sand felt good on my feet. It wasn’t the beautiful crystal blue water I love so much, but in the Colombian heat, it still felt amazing.

After a few days in Cartagena, we decided to move inland a bit, and our first stop was in Medellin. The airport in Medellin is actually almost an hour east of the city and closer to another town we wanted to visit called Guatape. So when we landed, instead of going into Medellin, we got on a shuttle bound for a hotel in Guatape. Guatape was another hour east of the airport, and our driver manuevered the narrow winding roads with ease. The weather was overcast and rainy, so we didn’t get to enjoy much of the scenery. We made it to our hotel which sat atop a hill overlooking a BMX track and a soccer complex. Our room was nice, but it was a little chilly. We had only planned on staying one night, visiting the Piedra del Penol the next morning, and catching the bus back to Medellin. The next morning, we woke up to dreary skies and pouring down rain. We were all disappointed that our one shot of enjoying the scenic panoramas atop the rock was probably a bust. We decided to go have some breakfast and we prayed for a break in the weather. God granted our request, and shortly after breakfast, the skies cleared up. We headed for the big rock.

The Piedra del Penol is a giant rock that sits all by itself in a region full of lakes and forests. Its roughly 700 feet tall, and its made of materials that aren’t common in the area. The going theory is that the rock was emitted from one of the volcanic eruptions in the area way back when. I’m not sure if that’s true, but it was a sight to see. The rock was first scaled in 1954, and since then, they have built an entire attraction out of it. There are 675 concrete steps to get to the top, and on the very top, there are restaurants, a viewing tower, bathrooms, and gift shops. The view is spectacular from every angle. I was a little nervous about the climb, but it only took us about 20 minutes or so to go up, and although I had to stop several times to catch my breath, it really wasn’t that bad.

We found a crepe restaurant in Guatape that we really loved. The night we arrived in Guatape, we ate our dinner there, opting for lazagnas over crepes. We let Henry order us a strawberry and chocolate crepe for dessert, and he was hooked. We liked it so well that when we came down from Piedra del Penol, we actually had our lunch there as well. We met the restaurant’s owner, a French man who had travelled to Guatape 6 years ago for a 2 night stay and never left. The town was enchanting, and we really regretted that we only had one night to stay here.

But after our lunch, we knew we had to get moving again. So that afternoon, we caught our bus bound for Medellin. Now, of course I’d heard of Pablo Escobar, but aside from him and the drug cartels, I’d never heard anything about Medellin. I was a little nervous about going there because the little I knew wasn’t very good. We picked a hotel in the Laureles neighborhood because it was supposed to be full of restaurants, safe for tourists, and close to transportation. Our bus ran into some heavy traffic, and we were later pulling into the north terminal bus station than we’d hoped for. After grabbing our bags, a few friendly employees helped us navigate the enormous station and get on the metro towards our hotel. Our bags were heavy as we stood in the center of the train, and we were ultra conscientious about the crime in the area, so the ride was both long and difficult. We got off at the Estadio station, and walked past busy restaurants and a street full of people to our hotel. Our hotel wasn’t marked well and was a bit hard to find. Thankfully, Carlos, our host was looking for us. It was a little unnerving when we had to show Henry’s birth certificate at check in so they could be sure we weren’t doing anything underhanded with him. We were safe where we were, but this was a very good reminder that things hadn’t always been so secure.

On our first day in Medellin, I had found a person who could repair my Keen sandals, and we walked about a mile through town to drop them off. It was the middle of the day, so people were out everywhere. We walked past the metro station and past a massive recreational complex with soccer fields, baseball fields, and more, and then we eventually wandered out of the Laureles area to the Zapateria (shoe repair shop). This section of town wasn’t bad, but it was certainly not as nice as the area we were staying in. After dropping off the shoes, we returned to our side of town and caught the metro to the Casa de la Memoria, a museum that honored the victims of Colombia’s heinous past. The museum explained the reasons for many of the civil and political wars in the area, and it talked about the cartel wars and their impact on the country. It was moving, and my heart broke for these people as I thought through the loss they have suffered through for decade after decade.

On our second day, we took the metro north to Parque Explora, a children’s science museum, planetarium, and aquarium in one. For less than $9 each, we were able to enjoy an entire day of interactive exhibits. First off, the place was designed to look like 4 giant red books from above. Each ‘book’ was a different exhibit. Everything in the museum was in Spanish and English except for the 30 minute planetarium show. I may have fallen asleep during that, but that was mostly because I was laid back in the dark and the speaker’s voice was very soothing. We loved it here, and especially for the price, the exhibits were fantastic.

That night was one of the most interesting we’ve had on the trip. Apparently, there was a very important soccer match happening that afternoon in the soccer park near our hotel. When we got off the train after the children’s museum, we started noticing an abundance of green and white striped soccer jerseys. As we walked over to pick up my newly repaired shoes, we saw vendors blowing up green and white helium balloons, and there were green and white souvineers on every cart/stand. On the walk back to the hotel, there were noticably more people as the crowd continued thickening. By the time dinner rolled around, the crowd had gotten massive, and traffic was stalled in the street because of all the pedestrians. Everyone had on green and white clothing, and a whole bunch of people carried green and white umbrellas that were open and bouncing to their chants and celebrations in the street. People were cheering, and chanting, and celebrating what must have been a great game.

We made our way to a pizza restaurant and found a table on the second floor overlooking the street. The crowd continued to grow, and by the time our food arrived, they were shooting off fireworks and dancing in the street. The police had intervened to get traffic moving again, but it didn’t take long for the crowd to overtake the street again. Several of the small businesses lining the street closed up their storefronts as the crowds got even rowdier. We watched in shock as members of the swat-like force came in with their shields and started forcing the crowd to move on. They moved on for a time, but in 10 minutes, most had migrated back to the street. The swat-like police came in a second time, and this time they fired off a smoke bomb and forced the partygoers out completely. We were safe, but the crowd was massive and very energetic, which put us all on edge. The ‘regular’ police were numerous and they continued to monitor the area for the rest of the evening. We were able to walk back to our hotel with no issues.

We later found out that Medellin is the home of the Atletico Nacional, which according to our host, is one of the most important teams in Colombia and in South America. We knew that soccer was a big deal in Central/South America, but we honestly had no idea. These people were all about soccer! Thankfully we were in a safe spot in the restaurant and had a great bird’s eye view to the whole show. By the time we left the restaurant, everything was calm, and most of the street was back to normal.

The next day we toured the Museo de Castillo. In the middle of the city, there is a beautiful old castle that was built in the early 1900s. The castle is open today as a music and arts hub in the city, and its grounds are open to tourists and picnicers. We explored the old house and walked through the immaculately manicured gardens, forgetting that we were still in the middle of one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

Medellin is a huge city of 2.7 million people, and they have a very well developed transportation system to help their residents. There are metro trains, buses, city buses, and cable cars. We had heard that the cable cars were a great way to really get to see the city since you get a view from above, and we weren’t going to miss out on that. So that afternoon we rode the metro and took the cable car system to check out Arvi Park.

For about 3 linear kilometers, we watched the city move under us as we rode on the cable line and then we traveled another 2 kilometers over forest to the park. The park was very large and was full of beautiful trees and hiking trails. We walked a kilometer or two to see a waterfall and check out the camping area before we headed home for the night.

On the way back from Arvi Park, we took a detour and got off of the metro a station or two from our stop. The Parque de las Luces was one of the areas we had heard about as well. During the day, the 300 lighted poles provide shade, and at night, they provide light. Some of the lights weren’t working when we were there, which took away from the beauty, but the park itself was still beautiful.

As great as our time in Medellin had been, it was time for us to move on to our next stop in Bogota. Bogota is almost three times the size of Medellin, and was, by far, the biggest city I’d ever been in. We flew into Bogota and took the public bus system to our Airbnb. We were staying on the outer edge of the Champinero area. This section of town was heavily developed for tourism, and there was plenty to do and see in the area. Getting to our apartment was a bit of a debacle, though, and the money we saved by not taking a taxi was not worth it. The bus we caught at the airport took us to a main bus station hub. This hub had hundreds of busses coming and going each hour, but a helpful attendant helped us purchase a ticket and find the B13 bus to get to our stop. We were able to get on the bus with no issues, but when we got close to our bus stop, we were completely shocked when the bus didn’t stop at it. Panicking a little, we got off at the next bus station (about 20 blocks away) to figure out what to do next. There was a map hanging in the station, and it listed off a boatload of buses and their stops. After a few minutes deciphering the map (maybe more than a few minutes), we finally figured out that we needed to get on bus H13 to go back to our stop. After a few more minutes, we figured out where H13 would pick us up at. But eventually we made it on, and it stopped at our intended stop. About this time, the bottom fell out, and it began raining cats and dogs. We had rain covers for our bags and rain jackets for us. Unforutnately, it was crowded, and everything else we had was packed up super tight. We decided we’d walk the 4-5 blocks and do the best we could to stay dry in our jeans and tennis shoes. Less than a block later, we were all completely drenched. The water was flooding the streets, and there was 4-6 inches of water off of every curb. Since we couldn’t fight it, we just embraced it. It was cold and wet, and we were absolutely miserable. We made it to the address we had in our phone but couldn’t find the apartment. It took us a few more minutes of frantic searching in the pouring rain to figure out that the address we’d been working off of was for the parking garage. Our apartment was another 5 blocks or so. So off we went again. We finally made it to the entrance, and we entered in our keyless code. Of course our apartment was the one on the third floor (with no elevator), so after trudging up the steps, we finally walked in absolutely sopping wet.

The apartment was really nice, and we made use of every square inch of it as we opened up all of our things and laid them out to dry. We used the washing machine in the apartment to wring out our clothes, and we made a makeshift clothes line in the living room to hang everything out on. The apartment was very cool from the Bogota weather, and it had no heat. Henry took a shower to try to warm up, and then he went straight for the covers on his bed. Brian and I tried to get as creative as we could with getting our stuff dry, but we were freezing too. We’d worn our only real set of warm clothes because we knew that it would be cold, and those were all dripping wet. So we put on our best shorts and tees and made do. We ordered a pizza because we were just too miserable to go out again, and that was delicious. We went to bed that night determined to make the next day a little better.

The next morning, Brian and Henry went to check out a local laundry service. Our wet clothes were still very wet, and everything else we had was dirty. We decided to split our laundry into two batches so that we’d have something to wear in the short term. And once we dropped off the clothes, we found a really nice food court near an apartment complex just a few blocks from our apartment. Henry had found some al pastor tacos there, and Brian and I fell in love with some jugo de lulo (lulo juice) that we got unlimited refills on. We didn’t do much that day because it was really too cold to be out the way we were dressed.

One afternoon, after we’d gotten our clothes back, we went into the city to explore and see what we could find to do. After eating a delicious lunch in the garden of a downtown restaurant, we decided to walk to a nearby free museum. While we were there, we learned that you could walk to the top of Montserrat and see the view of the city, so we decided to check that out. We walked up the hill near the edge of the city, and we were able to ride a cable car all the way to the top of the Montserrat mountain. The view was breathtaking, but unfortunately, it was shortlived. The rain came in, and the clouds ruined the views. It was very pleasant up there, but we were cold and tired, and we needed to get back to our section of town before it got too late, so we didn’t stay long.

On another day, we took an Uber to the Catedral de Sal, the Salt Cathedral. In an area about an hour north of town, the native people had learned that salt was plentiful. They would make bread using the salty water that flowed from the mountain. Over the years, people figured out more efficient means of capturing it, and now there is a massive salt mine in the area. In a few of the tunnels on the third level down, the miners created artistic representations of the story of Christ for visitors to enjoy. In the fartherest visitable chambers, there is a massive church, commerce area, movie theater, and more. The caves were a constant 55-degrees, so regardless of the weather, visitors could come admire their work. When we were there, there was a celebration and awards ceremony happening in the church. I’m not sure what was really going on, but it was interesting to see the space being used like it was.

On our last day, we woke up early prepared to head to the airport to fly from Colombia to Peru. We’d figured out the bus system, and since we had a little money left on our transit card, we decided to take the bus to the airport. At around 5, we left our apartment for the bus stop that was about 3 blocks away. We waited together, being very vigilant of the sparsely populated streets. Another man joined us at the stop and waited with us for about 10 minutes. Just before he got on his bus, a second man joined us as well. After the first man got on his bus, a blue car pulled up to the stop, and the passenger rolled down his window. He spoke very quickly and in Spanish, so we really struggled to understand him. He said that he was police, and he showed us his badge. He asked to see our identification, and we all showed ours. He continued to talk quickly, and he asked to see if we had a cell phone. The man who was with us showed him his. The passenger took it, looked at it for a moment, and then handed it back to him. Brian did the same, but instead of handing it back to Brian, the man handed it to the driver. As he was handing it to the driver, he was also grabbing for mine. He continued to look at it for a moment, and then he started talking again. This time it sounded like he was asking for money. We had intentionally spent all of our cash the night before so we wouldn’t have to exchange it again. The other bus passenger handed him a little cash, and the ‘officer’ continued to push Brian for cash. Brian said we didn’t have any and showed the man his empty wallet. Then, the man started asking for cards. Brian ended up giving him a debit card for a closed account so that he would be satisfied. After a few minutes asking us for computers and other valuables, the bus stop passenger got in the back seat of the car, and the car sped off with our phones and a dead ATM card in tow. Brian said he had figured out what was going on when the ‘officer’ handed his phone to the driver. By then, it was too late for his or mine. Thankfully, we didn’t resist them, and we didn’t give them anything else. We walked back to our apartment to figure out what to do next. We were all pretty shaken up, but we were safe. Henry still had his phone, and we were able to use it to help us get what we would need to get out of the country. We tried to call an Uber, but the only driver that was popping up was one who didn’t list their car model or their car tags. In light of what happened, we refused the ride. We called a taxi instead, and after negotiating a rate, we all got in the car very dubious of our driver’s good intentions.

When we got to the airport, we notified a police officer at the entrance about what happened. Several officers later, we were asked to fill out a police report with the attendant in a little tech kiosk inside the airport. The store clerk logged onto the public use computers and filled out our report for us and gave us a copy to keep. From there, we headed over to the international departures to check in for our flights.

We made it to Lima, Peru, with no other issues, and we spent the next three days scrubbing all of our accounts and changing as many passwords as we could. We had turned on the lost mode on our phones, so we got notice when whoever took them connected them to the network. They were stolen at 5:30 am on Saturday, and by 10 pm on Sunday, they had gotten past my passcode and had managed to bypass all the security on my phone. They got into Brian’s the next morning, but thankfully we were able to remotely wipe his.

The robbery was scary, and I hate that it happened. We had been vigilant expecting someone to pick our pockets or to grab a bag and try to run with it. We weren’t expecting them to pose as police. We don’t know if they had weapons, because thank God, they didn’t pull any on us. We could have done so many things different, and we might have prevented this. But I also know that it could have gone much worse, and I’m thankful we all walked away safe with just the inconvenience of replacing our phones.

I also hate that this is the last memory we have of Colombia. We loved our time there, but now it’s hard to imagine ever going back there. Henry has really struggled since the incident with trusting anyone, and I hate that these men took that bit of innocence away from him. We keep reminding him that it’s important to be wary but to not let the few bad people taint your view of everyone. There are a lot of really good people everywhere, even in Colombia, and I’m trying hard to remember them instead. So for us, Colombia carries with it some mixed emotions. It was beautiful, but dangerous. We danced and laughed a lot, but we left with tears and frustration. We have immense gratitude that we all left unharmed, but we all lost a part of our ourselves there as well. We will use our lessons learned to help us in the future, and every day, we will remind each other of the good.

Panama, the Melting Pot of Central America

Life itself is a privilege. But to live life to the fullest – well, that is a choice.

– Andy andrews

I had never heard much about Panama before we started planning this trip. I remember learning about the Panama Canal in grade school, and I know I’d heard of the Darien Gap, even if I had long forgotten where it was or why it was important. That little bit pretty much sums up what I knew of this country two years ago. Since then, Brian and I have read several articles that touted Costa Rica and Panama as fantastic retirement options for American expats; the climate is tropical, the costs are low, the countries are relatively safe, and flights from the US are cheap and frequent. After spending two weeks relaxing in the warm sun on the breezy beaches, I am simply smitten with Panama, and I know that one day I will go back.

We left Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica on a Saturday morning. Our shuttle arrived promptly outside our hostel at 8:00, we loaded our bags in the back of the van, and we started our 45 minute long ride to Sixaola, the Costa Rican border town where we would cross over into Panama. The shuttle driver stopped short of crossing the Rio Sixaola when he sent us inside a local store to pay our exit taxes. With our proof of payment in hand, the driver walked us up to the immigration office at the bridge and waited while we quickly went through the exit processing. The Rio Sixaola marks the border between the two countries so our driver couldn’t cross the bridge. Instead, he handed us off to our next guide who was patiently waiting on the bridge for us.

Our new guide walked us over the water and guided us down to the Panama Immigrations. Their office was tucked into a corner behind a strip of stores, and without his help, we would not have easily found it. He waited for us to process through their office and then he handed us off to a third person, a shuttle driver on the Panamanian side.

This driver did not speak English, but thankfully, we picked up another passenger who was from the US and who was fluent in both languages. We settled in for our hour long ride to Almirante. After crossing a border, it’s not unusual for there to be multiple checkpoints where police or immigrations personnel request to see your identification to make sure you legally crossed the border. These are normal, and while they are still uncomfortable, we have grown accustomed to them. On our last border check, though, the police officer didn’t like something about our driver, his vehicle, or both. We were asked to pull over out of the road so they could investigate further. As we sat in the back seat with three cops standing outside my side of the car and two on Brian’s side, I couldn’t help but wonder if we had just become unwitting passengers in some soon to be horrible nightmare. Thankfully, after about five minutes, the officers waved us forward and let us go.

We reached Almirante with no more problems. A young, energetic dock worker grabbed our bags and hauled them from the shuttle to the water taxi dock for us while our shuttle driver arranged the next leg of our transportation. We were heading to the islands of Bocas del Toro, and we would need to take a ferry from the mainland to Bocas Town, the largest city which is located on Isla Colon. Our shuttle driver bought our tickets and pointed us towards the waiting area for our boat. Within a few short minutes, the dock workers ushered us into a 20 passenger ferry boat, and we headed off on our 45 minute ferry ride.

I hated the boat ride. We were going very fast, and I felt like the floor of the boat was just a few hard hits from busting apart. The waves weren’t big, but they were certainly noticeable, and after 45 minutes, I was beginning to feel more than a little queasy. I was grateful to step on solid ground again, so I gladly hopped out of the boat and donned my heavy pack again when we reached Isla Colon.

While we were gathering our bearings, a local tour operator named Bernardo came by to talk to us about his tours. He said he had a group of people going out the following day, and he had room for us to join them. For just $30 each, he’d pick us up at our hotel, take us to see dolphins, to see sloths, to snorkel, to swim at the most beautiful beach in the Bocas, and to see starfish. We thanked him, got his contact information, and politely but quickly walked away.

After grabbing a bite to eat, I began feeling better, and we decided to take our second ferry over to Isla Carenero so we could check into our hotel. Bernardo arranged our water taxi for us, and while we waited, he continued to try to talk us into his trip. We were a little over budget at this point, so I just told him that while his trip sounded fun, we just couldn’t work it into our tight budget. He offered us a deal on the package so long as we agreed to keep it to ourselves. So, I won’t tell you what we worked out, but as you’ll soon find out, we did have fun on his tour.

Our hotel was very nice. Like so many other places we have stayed, this one must have been quite popular at one time. It was big with a restaurant and a bar. I’m not sure if it’s because of COVID, but it, like so many others, is just an empty shell of what it was. The bar was closed. The restaurant only served breakfast anymore. Over half of the hotel was being remodeled and was inaccessible. The building was beautiful, spacious, and well located. It was right on the water facing the marina, and it was a beautiful place to take in the sunset. It was a great place with all the right amenities; they just needed more guests.

We decided to explore our little island a bit, so we wandered out the back door of our hotel and onto the concrete walkways that separated all of the buildings. Isla Carenero is a small island and there are no cars or roads. People get around by using these walkways or by boating to their destinations. The houses on the island are small, stilted buildings that are close set and run down. Dogs and children ran all over, and music can be heard coming from most of the open windows. This island was one of the poorest areas we have visited on this trip, and the living conditions broke my heart. The people didn’t have much, but they were living in paradise and everyone seemed content with what they did have. Even without the conveniences I can’t imagine living without, the families of this island laughed and played freely. It was humbling and refreshing to witness.

We swam at the beach for a while, but as the sun started to go down, we decided to make our way through the labyrinth of walkways back to our hotel. We went out exploring again for dinner, and this time we walked further down the beach. Our walk found us in a few darker stretches of beach where we came upon the larger land crabs as we were walking. Brian and I teased Henry by throwing rocks into the bushes and making him jump. After an enjoyable 10 minute walk, we found a cute little beach side restaurant that, because hardly anyone was there, we worried wasn’t going to be any good. The waiter was at the bar talking with three customers, and a Panamanian woman was in the kitchen preparing food as we took our seats at the bar. The waiter was from Germany and had lived on Isla Carenero for the past 6 years. We were invited into the conversation, and we learned that the couple at the bar was visiting from France and that the third man at the bar was a local. The conversation was lively and enjoyable, and when our food was ready, we continued to be entertained by the company. Another couple joined us about half way through our meal. The husband was from Switzerland, and the wife was half Mexican and half Chinese, but she was from the US. They joined in on the conversation as well, and we all quickly became friends. We enjoyed a few drinks and relaxing music under the moonlight as we ate our delicious pizzas and calzones.

The next morning, we awoke excited to go on the tour. After a wonderful breakfast of fresh fruit and juice, toast, and eggs (ok, that part wasn’t so great), we found our way to the island market to buy a few drinks and snacks for our adventure. Our water taxi picked us up at the hotel dock, and we made our way back across the channel to Bocas Town. We joined our tour group, and after several water taxi transfers, we set off on our first destination to see dolphins.

The boat sailed through the water for nearly a half hour until we came to a rather abrupt stop in Dolphin Bay. Our captain spoke very little English, but thankfully, one of our companions spoke decent Spanish and could interpret for us. We sat still in the water for a few minutes, moved on to a few other areas of the bay, and then the captain announced that there were “No dolphins today.” Now, at this point, I started to worry that our tour was going to be a waste of money. Three of our five activities were viewing wildlife. I know that the tours can never guarantee that you’ll see animals in the wild, but I couldn’t help but wonder if there was ever any wildlife to really see. Disappointed and skeptical, we began the journey to our second destination.

Henry has loved sloths for as long as I can remember, and he had really been wanting to see one here. All through Costa Rica, we scanned the trees with hopes of seeing one but we were never successful. Bernardo had promised us the chance to see the ‘lazy monkeys’ and that was what sold Henry on the tour. So, after seeing zero dolphins, I halfway expected to see zero sloths as well. Thankfully, I was wrong, and we did get to see them. Our boat pulled up to an island where two other boats full of tour-goers were idling. In the trees in front of us, we watched two little sloths for a few minutes. They were adorable, and watching them, we realized it made perfect sense that they were called the lazy monkeys. At their highest speeds, they can move a distance of 1 foot in about 3 seconds. Henry was beside himself when one of the sloths looked straight at him, and that was all we heard about for the next hour.

My faith was restored a little more when we reached our third destination. Bernardo had promised us the best beach in the Bocas, and he delivered. We arrived on the deserted Isla Zapatilla, unloaded our cooler of snacks, and hopped into the beautiful turquoise waters. The white sandy beaches were naturally gorgeous, and the calm waves were relaxing. Henry found a few downed bamboo logs and tried, unsuccessfully I might add, to fashion a raft out of them. Brian I were far less industrious as we just soaked up the sun. The two hours we spent on this beach were wonderful. With nothing to see or do, it was the perfect way for us to unwind and relax a little.

When the boat came back around, we headed out to our fourth destination to snorkel over some of the Caribbean reef. The waves were calm, and the water was crystal clear as we jumped in and explored the waters. Henry enjoyed playing with my phone in the water, and I loved looking for the little shrimp on the ocean floor.

On our way back, we stopped by a restaurant and rest area to use the bathroom and grab a bite to eat. Since we weren’t yet hungry, we opted to enjoy the slide at the end of the pier instead. On our way back to the island, we stopped to see starfish that were quite plentiful in the shallow waters by one of the many islands. We finally made it back to Bocas Town and Bernardo, true to his word, got us back to our hotel safely. It had been a great day, and I’m so glad we took the time to try this.

We went out exploring for dinner again that night, and this time we found ourselves at a restaurant located over the water. The place was packed, and the diners were enjoying the music from a local band. As we sat amongst all the tourists and locals, we watched everyone laughing and dancing and singing along when they knew the songs. The atmosphere was contagious, and we couldn’t help but smile and hum along where we could.

The next morning, we woke up early and caught our water taxi back to the Isla Colon. It was time to move on to our next destination, Panama City. Bernardo had helped us arrange our transportation for this trip as well. After the taxi from Isla Carenera to Bocas Town, he put us on a ferry to the mainland. When we arrived at the mainland, our taxi driver was waiting for us, and he carried us a few miles across town to the bus station where he bought our tickets for us. We boarded our bus for Panama City, and enjoyed the scenery in peace for the next 10 hours.

We knew that we’d be coming into the Albrook bus station in Panama City, but we didn’t know what to expect. The place was huge, and we later found out, it was connected to the Albrook Mall. We were starving by the time we rolled into the station, so we grabbed a bite in the food court before we caught our Uber to the hotel.

We stayed in the Hotel California. It was nice, six floors with a rooftop pool and a fantastic restaurant, and it was only a few blocks from the waterfront. From the roof you could see the skyline of the city, and from our room, you could people watch on the bustling street outside.

Henry loves malls, and we knew there was a good chance that there would be good restaurants there, so on our first day in Panama City, we caught an Uber to the Albrook Mall. We knew this was supposed to be a mall, but we had no idea what we were in for. We walked around for a little and admired their giant animal statues as we explored the stores, and then we found lunch at a food court. We continued to walk. And walk. And walk. The place was huge, and it took us several hours to work our way around the whole thing. Later we found out that this mall was the largest in the Americas and the 14th largest in the world. There were almost 500 stores and over 100 restaurants inside. Because of it size, the mall has dedicated sections to various animals for easier navigation. For example, when we first went to the mall, we went in the pink hippo entrance. The Hippo area has 25-50 stores in its section, and a giant hippo statue stands in the middle of the aisle. The section has pink hippo signs hanging so you easily know where you are. There are 13 of these sections and there are also 3 different very large food courts. And, as I mentioned earlier, the mall is connected to the bus station and its food court as well. We ended up back at the Albrook Mall for the second time on the next day. After hours of walking, we finally found what we were looking for; Henry was thrilled when we finally bought him a replacement camera!

You can’t go to Panama City without going to visit the Panama Canal, so on our third day in the city, we took an Uber out to the Miraflores Visitor’s Center. The visitors center was open all day, but we had read that it was best to visit between 8 and 11 and between 3 and 5. We hadn’t gotten going like we’d hoped, so we were later getting there than we had planned. We bought our tickets, and when we got to the front of the line to go in, the agent held us there to allow the previous tour group to get a head start on us. She let us know that the last boat of the morning was going through the canals, so instead of her walking through the museum and talking us through that, we would head straight up to the observation deck to watch the boat finish it’s transit. We rushed up to the top floor and stepped out on the observation deck just in time to see the last boat slowly make its way out the far end of the canal and into the open water. Brian and I were both very disappointed to have missed it, but because we didn’t know much at this point, we thought we’d just wait around for the next boat to pass. The tour guides informed us that this would be the last boat until about 4 in the afternoon. Just to the northwest of the Miraflores locks lies a 9 mile stretch of the canal that is too narrow for boats to pass one another in. Boats enter the water from the Atlantic ocean and can wait in the manmade Gatun lake for their opportunity to transit the canal. To manage traffic, boats are allowed to travel from Atlantic to Pacific for certain hours and then when the last boats come out of the narrow stretch, traffic is alternated to allow boats to travel from the Pacific to the Atlantic side. The gap between the last boat in the morning and the first boat in the afternoon is where this traffic redirection is carried out.

So we were faced with a decision, we could hang around and see what we could over the next little bit, or we could tough it out and wait until the afternoon boats started coming through. It was 11 am. We would have to kill another 4-5 hours if we wanted to see the boats. We couldn’t leave and come back, the restaurant was closed, the museum was closed, and there was really nothing to do. Even so, we decided that if we’d come that far, we were going to see those darn boats going through. So, we found a comfortable spot on the observation deck and settled in for a long wait. We tried to sneak into the museum to see the few displays that were open, but unfortunately, we just ended up getting ourselves locked out of the observation deck. We were allowed to go to the lower observation deck, and it actually had seats for us to relax in, so it wasn’t all bad. At about 3:30, we could see the first big ships lining up to come into the locks from the Pacific side. These boats were enormous. We watched two ships go through the lock system, and we were completely fascinated watching the boats drop 80 feet in the lock right in front of us. As engineers, we are aware of the massive design and maintenance challenges that this area would demand, and it was amazing to think that it was designed and built over a hundred years ago!

On our final day in Panama City, we walked along the waterfront. Panama City has created a very beautiful paved pathway that runs along its shoreline. There are shaded picnic tables, bathrooms, and bike rentals, and street vendors sell drinks and snacks all along the way. We walked from our hotel to the shore and after grabbing lunch at the fish market, we continued walking all the way to the old town.

The old town was beautiful with its large colonial style buildings and cobbled streets. We explored a few old churches and parks in the area, and then we caught an Uber to the Amador Causeway because we had heard that the views were amazing. The causeway was built in 1913, just before the Panama Canal actually opened. There were four little islands off the coast, and debris from digging out the canal was used to construct the causeway in an effort to help protect the Pacific opening to the Panama Canal. The islands can now be reached from the mainland via the 4 mile causeway. Today the causeway provides a beautiful stretch where you can watch the ships waiting to transit the canal and enjoy the panoramic views of Panama City.

Panama has been wonderful, and it has been the closest we’ve felt to being home in the USA. The population was more diverse than anywhere else we have been. In many of the countries we’ve visited, we have been very obvious tourists. Here, there are people of every color, and we fit right in. The foods are very diverse as well, so we have been able to find lots of options to suit each of us. They even use the US dollar as their currency, so for a time, we haven’t had to worry about exchange rate math. While the US influence is obvious here, the people of Panama have a culture that is very unique. The ‘melting pot’ of Central America, just like the United States, has combined many cultures and traditions into one people, and the result is quite beautiful.

We really enjoyed our time in Panama, but there was so much more we wanted to see and do here than we could work into our trip. We wanted to snorkel in the the San Blas Islands. We wanted to walk the streets of Colon, a beautiful Caribbean city. And, we wanted to climb Volcan Baru, the only spot in the Americas where you can see both the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans. For now, we will just keep those things on our list, and hopefully soon, we can plan our second trip this wonderful little country.

Cruising through Costa Rica

Don’t listen to what they say. Go see.

– Chinese Proverb

Costa Rica has been on my bucket list for a very long time. It consistently ranks in the top three in the list of countries that US expats retire early to because of its tropical climate, it’s position below the hurricane zone, and its relatively low cost of living. Add to that a beautiful mix of mountains, tropical rain forest, volcanoes, and beaches, and the place is simply irresistible. Even our traveling friends who’ve been all over the world have talked at length about their love for this little Caribbean nation. So, needless to say, that this has been one of the destinations I’ve most been looking forward to on our adventure.

In our last post, we were wrapping up our time in Honduras. Henry really wanted to go to Nicaragua next to do some volcano sledding that his cousins had told him about. Brian wanted to go there because it is very inexpensive, and we could gain some traction on our budget. I was open to visiting it, but if we missed it, I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it. After evaluating our travel options several times at length, we decided that financially, it just didn’t make sense for us to go there. It would actually be less expensive for us to backtrack into Guatemala, and then catch a flight over Nicaragua straight to Costa Rica than it would be to catch a bus into the country. This isn’t normally the case, but Covid has made this, among many things, more difficult.

So instead of catching a bus into Nicaragua, we started a long journey back to Guatemala. We caught the ferry out of Roatan back to the mainland, and then we spent two nights in La Ceiba so that we could firm up our plans and get our laundry done. We decided to take a bus back to San Pedro Sula because no matter how we decided to proceed, we would need to get to there first. We had avoided staying in this town because it’s one of the least safe cities in a not very safe country. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any other options. There is a nice bus (the Hedman Alas) that travels from San Pedro Sula to Guatemala City, but we discovered that we couldn’t get tickets to get us all the way there for several more days. We had found another bus company that could take us to Guatemala City through the east coast, but none of their route/cost information was online. Like many of the bus companies in the area (and there are hundreds of them), you simply have to show up at the station with cash in hand and buy your ticket. By the time we could arrive in San Pedro Sula, we wouldn’t know if their last buses for the day had already gone out. So we opted to stay one night there and leave as early as possible the next day.

Our host in San Pedro Sula, Blanca, was great. She picked us up from the bus station, brought us to her home, and introduced us to other guests staying with her, as well. She showed us to our room and then gave us directions to two shopping malls within walking distance. She said that her neighborhood was safe and that we would be okay walking to the malls. Both had food courts where we could find a variety of options for dinner. We opted to go for an early dinner so we would be safely within her gates by dark.

The mall was very nice, bright, beautiful, and full of stores we recognized, and it was easy inside to forget that the city had a reputation for crime. We ate American foods and shopped around for a replacement camera for Henry for a bit. After a few hours, we walked back to our hostel to shower, pack up for our next day, and get a little sleep.

The next morning, we enjoyed our breakfast with our host and her family. After breakfast she made some phone calls to help us figure out the bus schedules for the day, and then she drove us to the bus station to catch our next bus. Based on their schedule, the bus was supposed to leave at 10:30, and we arrived at their ticket window at around 10:10. The line was excruciatingly slow, but we finally made it to the window. While I dealt with the paperwork, Brian speed-walked to the nearest ATM to get cash for the tickets. We watched the time tick by, anxiously hoping we would still be able to make the bus. When we finally had the tickets in hand, we rushed outside to the bus lanes expecting to immediately board only to find that our bus was not there.

The San Pedro Sula bus station is incredibly massive with hundreds of busing coming and going at any given time. Riders wait out in the heat with their luggage for their bus to arrive. Unfortunately the buses aren’t always labeled properly, and there’s no apparent organization to their locations. In order to find your bus, you have to look for your style of bus (sometimes you can find a picture of them), ask the drivers of each bus, or try to find an attendant (who is not dressed in any bus station uniform) to ask. It’s crowded, hot, and extremely hectic. On top of that, our bus was almost an hour late pulling into the station; we weren’t sure if it was late or if we had missed it altogether. There was one man that seemed to work at the station that kept assuring us that the bus was on it’s way. However, he didn’t speak any English, and we didn’t have phone service to use our translate app. Each time he told us it would only be a few more minutes, our confidence level dropped a little more. It was awful, and we were very stressed standing there trying to figure out what to do next.

Our bus finally did show, though, and we boarded with no problems. We pulled out of the station and had driven about ten minutes away from the terminal when the driver pulled over to the side of the road. At first, we weren’t concerned; we just enjoyed the air conditioning as we relaxed knowing that we would be in Guatemala City by around 8 pm. An hour and a half later, we were still sitting on the side of the road ten minutes from the bus station. We had a flat tire and the driver was having it repaired. With another 8 hours of drive time ahead, we were getting antsy, and it was clear that it was going to be a long day. Oh, but we had no idea!

We hit the road again, and we had a really good trip to the Honduras/Guatemala border. This border was different from any others we’d seen in that it was absolutely packed. The line for each country wrapped around opposite sides of the building. Our driver called each of us by name and had us go to the Honduran immigration line. It took us about two hours to get to the front of the line and spend our one minute with the official. We then moved over to the Guatemala immigrations line to wait another hour. Hot, hungry, and tired, we boarded the bus for the final 5 hour leg of the trip.

At around 11 pm, we were all resting peacefully when our driver slammed on the brakes and we heard a terrible crash. I prayed that no one was hurt, and then I prayed that God would just stop this craziness. All I wanted was to be in a hotel bed and off of this stupid bus, but we were still two hours from Guatemala City, and I had no idea what would happen because of the accident. Lookie-loos got off the bus to check out the damage, but as soon as we figured out no one was hurt, I really didn’t care. We think we rear ended a semi truck, but we still aren’t sure. I don’t know if we did any damage to the other vehicle, but the windshield of the bus was cracked and broken. The bus was functional though, and about a half hour later, broken windshield and all, we continued our journey.

Remember how we hoped to get to Guatemala City by 8 pm? Well, at 1:30 am, we finally rolled into the Guatemala City bus station. We hadn’t had lunch or dinner, we were exhausted, and we had no where to go. We hadn’t booked a hotel because we wanted to make sure we could get to the town first; after we finally got our bus tickets, we never had WIFI to find a place to stay. And I should mention that hotels in Central America are very different from those in the US. In the US, there is almost always someone on duty, and so long as the hotel has vacancy, you can show up, ask for a room, and get a place to stay regardless of the hour. In Guatemala, like all of the other Central American countries, check-in at most hotels has limited hours, and after that, you’re just out of luck. As Brian and Henry retrieved our bags, I talked a local taxi driver out of the WIFI password so I could find somewhere for us to go. Apparently, finding a place to stay at 2 am isn’t an easy task. No one would answer the phone, and I couldn’t book online because the websites recognized the date and wanted to help us find a reservation for that night instead. We were sharing the taxi with a fellow bus rider who spoke a little English and who also didn’t have a hotel. After 30 minutes of searching and calling with no luck, and me doing my very best not to freak out, our taxi driver told us he knew of an ‘economical’ hotel. Thankfully our new friend agreed to coordinate with the driver for all of us to go to the drivers suggested spot.

Twenty minutes later, we parked outside a locked gate, and the driver yelled through the barred windows of the hotel’s front wall to wake the reception attendant. Reluctantly, the attendant let us in and gave us rooms for the night. Of course, he only took cash, and we didn’t have enough Guatemalan money to pay for the room in cash, so while Henry and I waited safely inside the hotel gates, Brian went with the driver to find another ATM.

At around 2:30 am, we finally stretched out in our beds to rest. The sun comes up in Guatemala at around 5 am, and we knew that while desolate and quiet at that time, the street in front of the hotel would be bright, bustling, and loud very early. We were right, by the way, but even with the light and noise, we all slept in until 7 or so.

Early that morning, our next order of business was to get our tickets to fly to Costa Rica and to figure out how we’d get to the airport. We bought tickets for a direct flight into San Jose, Costa Rica, that would leave at 6 am the next morning. We decided to move to a hotel a little closer to the airport so we wouldn’t have to get up quite so early for our flight. Our Uber driver dropped us off at our new hotel at around 1 pm. This hotel was very nice, but it wasn’t close to any restaurants. We took the advice of the reception attendant and had a pizza delivered to our room instead of going back out. She made the phone call for us, thankfully, and we ate enough to make up for the meals we missed the day prior.

Then she dropped the bomb on us. In Guatemala, you have to be at the airport three full hours before your flight departs. We weren’t far from the airport, but in order to make sure we met their requirements, she scheduled the taxi to pick us up at 2:30 am. That night, we were all exhausted, and thankfully we went to sleep with very little issue. The alarm was miserable though, and we all struggled to get moving again.

Our taxi driver was waiting patiently at the hotel gate for us at 2:30 that next morning. He dropped us off, and we started the process of going through the airport. To be fair, this process isn’t much different than in the US, but the line grew quickly behind us and I’m sure wait times grew to staggering amounts throughout the day. The only issue we encountered was at the ticket counter. Costa Rica, like many countries, requires that you show proof of onward travel before you are allowed to come in. We had a letter from Quark Expeditions about our Antarctica trip, but we couldn’t get the clerk to understand that the trip was proof we wouldn’t be in Costa Rica more than our 90 government allowed days. Our only option was to book a flight, show him we had a paid reservation, and then cancel it afterwards. And that’s exactly what we did. While standing in line, the agent watched as Brian booked us tickets to Panama. After we landed and got through Costa Rican immigrations, we immediately cancelled the tickets.

Now, we fly Southwest Airlines quite frequently, and I love flying with them, but the Copa Airlines flight was really great. The seats were very roomy. Each seat had a built in tv in the headrest, and boarding was very easy and very laid back. I could get used to that. Our flight was smooth and enjoyable, and it only took an hour and a half to reach our destination. We went through immigration with no issues, and then we headed to baggage claim to pick up my bag. Unlike Southwest, with Copa, your checked baggage does not fly for free, so in order to minimize our costs, we combined all of our toiletries into one bag so we could only check that one. Henry carried my shoes in his bag, and Brian took my cold weather clothes in his bag. I had all of my warm weather clothes, all of our toiletries, and our first aid kit. Brian had commented from the plane that he’d seen my bag get loaded in the cargo area, so we knew we had it with us. But at baggage claim, we waited and waited, and it never showed up.

A very helpful young man in the baggage claim area helped me fill out a report, and he assured me that my bag would be there within a day or so. They had my information as well as our host’s info, and they would call or email as soon as they heard anything.

After taking an Uber to our apartment, we dropped our bags and went to find some lunch. Our new hosts, Tony and Katherine, were very helpful and pointed us to a nice outdoor mall area with plenty of options. We spent a few hours exploring and then went back to our room to relax. That evening, we walked to the local market and picked up some groceries so we could eat at home and let Henry do some schoolwork.

At around 11:30 pm, true to their word, Copa Airlines called to let me know they had my bag and their driver was bringing it to me. Another difference from the US and Costa Rica is the lack of a well defined 911 address system. I’m sure they have a system, but I don’t know what it is. Our hosts had given us a ‘neighborhood’ name and the instructions to give the driver who delivered us. Now, it was 11:30 at night, I’m half asleep because I was very soundly sleeping when he called, I’m on the phone with the driver who speaks very little English, and I’m trying to explain how to find this apartment in a town I don’t know. Our delivery person was very patient though, and I was grateful for him. At some point, Brian and I unlocked the gate at the garage, and I stood at the gate while Brian tried to flag the driver down on the main road like a crazy person. The driver finally saw Brian, could hear me telling him to look for the man in the blue shirt in middle of the street, and turned around. A few signatures later, I had my peace of mind and my bag back.

The next two days were very low key as we caught up on rest and school. We explored more of Alajuela, the suburb we were staying in, on one day, and we visited Avenida Central in San Jose on another. Avenida Central is a main road in San Jose, and the city has marked off about a mile long stretch for pedestrians only. There are literally hundreds of stores, restaurants, and banks in the area to lure in the tourists.

We liked San Jose and Alajuela, but we wanted to see more. We decided that the best way to really experience Costa Rica was to rent a car and head out on our own. Our rental company recommended that we get a vehicle with four wheel drive after he heard our plans, and I’m glad we did. They dropped the SUV off for us at our apartment, and we began the five hour drive to Santa Teresa. Santa Teresa is a small beach town on the Pacific coast, and it lies on the southern end of the Nicoya Peninsula. About 2.5 hours in, there is an hour and twenty minute ferry that crosses from the mainland to the peninsula and cuts a significant amount of time off the trip. After grabbing some BBQ chicken and beef kabobs from a street vendor outside the ferry station, we drove our SUV onto the boat, and then settled in on the top of the boat for an extremely comfortable and beautiful trip. Once we landed again, we worked our way through the winding roads. At one point, we drove until we stopped at the bank of a raging river. It took us a moment to put together that in the dry season, the path google maps found for us drove straight through the creek. In the rainy season, which we happened to be in the middle of, it’s just a big dead end because the river is far to high to safely cross. So with no other option, we turned around, backtracked to our last turn, and tried another road instead. Thankfully Google maps updated us with a new route, and within thirty minutes, we found the main road in Santa Teresa.

We found our hostel fairly easily and checked in with reception. There were quite a few folks hanging around the open air lounge playing pool, foosball, and cards. Henry was really excited to see that we had a pool and plenty of things to do around the hostel. We walked down the road to find some dinner, and then we were off to bed.

Around midnight, I had been sleeping really good when I heard Henry moving around the room and sounding very frustrated. I asked him what he was doing. He told me he was looking for our iPad because he wanted to do something. Brian asked him what he was needing to do so late, and in true petulant 13-year old fashion, Henry explained that he just wanted to do something, he needed the iPad to do it, and that we just wouldn’t understand. He said all he needed was to go get the iPad from the ‘main’ room in the hotel. He was very angry that we didn’t seem to understand where this main room was, and in a huff, he gave up and decided to just go to sleep. Henry has never walked or talked in his sleep, so this was new to us. But sure enough, we all had a good laugh because at breakfast the next morning, he had absolutely no memory of his little fit.

We were still sitting around the table at breakfast that morning when some guy walks up to Brian and grabs him by the shoulders. Diego, a friend Brian had made during his January trip to Mexico was staying in our hostel and had seen us when he came down for a bite. Diego and Brian had been in contact throughout our trip, with Diego graciously giving us tips and hints along the way. Neither knew that the other was in Costa Rica, let alone the same town and hostel. It was nice to meet Brian’s friend, and I know Brian was really needing a familiar face too.

We decided we’d spend our first full day in Santa Teresa exploring the area. Diego and his friends were planning to go to the Montezuma waterfalls, and we had been talking about that as well. After checking out the Playa Carmen beach, we made our way to the falls only to find that, with all the recent rains, the water was too high to safely make the climb. Dejected, we chose to go find some food instead. We saw a sign for a brewery at a fork in the road, and knowing how much Brian usually enjoys visiting craft breweries, Henry and I agreed to try it out. So we drove. And drove. And drove. We did eventually made it to the brewery, but we backed out of the driveway almost as quickly as we entered it as the brewery appeared to be two barstools and a counter under a lean-to in someone’s back yard. Thankfully we found a decent restaurant just a kilometer or so further into town instead.

When we finally made it back to Santa Teresa, we decided to continue on past our hostel and drive up the coast to check out the other beaches in town. We had made arrangements to have a surf lesson with a local surf shop the next day, and our instructor, Lalo, told us we would need to go to Playa Hermosa, about 15 minutes north of where we were staying, for the lesson. The waves near the beach by our hostel, Playa Carmen, were big and loud, and the contours of the beach make beginner surfing lessons very unsafe there. Playa Hermosa was sandy, wide, and beautiful with gentle and rolling waves. It looked like a great place for us to start.

The next day, we got up and got ready for our lesson. Henry and I were nervous, but Brian seemed unfazed. Lalo was a great teacher, patient and calm. He had been surfing since he was a child, and he loved teaching. After a short lesson on the sand, we headed to the water. Brian stood up on the board on his second or third try, and Henry was just as quick. I was not. By the end of our 90-minute lesson, Brian was consistently getting up, and Henry was doing tricks. I was doing my best not to cuss or drown, but I had stood up a few times, and I really did have fun. We didn’t do much the rest of the night except rest up a bit and contemplate when we might be able to try surfing again.

We spent our last full day in Santa Teresa swimming at the beach and relaxing in the sun. We found out that Brian’s ATM card had gotten skimmed when he went to get us cash. He had gone to the ATM, and an hour later, someone in San Jose tried using a card with the same programmed electronic stripe and his pin to withdraw cash. Thankfully the bank flagged the suspicious activity, and they killed the card. We are able to use my card for now, and the bank is rushing another to us. It’s scary how quickly and easily they pulled our information, though.

The next morning, we packed up the car and headed north to Tamarindo. We got held up for a short while when the map brought us right back to the opposite shore of the raging river shortcut, but we quickly rerouted ourselves and got back on our way. Santa Teresa is a undeveloped small town with dirt roads and a very laid back feel, but Tamarindo is busy, and loud, and while it also has a beachy/surfer vibe, it’s nothing like Santa Teresa. We stayed in an apartment just a few blocks from the beach. On our first full day in Tamarindo, my birthday, we rented surfboards from a beach-side shop and played in the waves. The tide was high when we started, and the waves were bigger than what we’d seen at Playa Hermosa. Brian and Henry did really well again. I did better, but while waiting for the waves, I started getting seasick. I was pleased with my progress and I stopped before they did which gave me time to just enjoy the sun and the sand. Later that evening, the boys took me out to a steak dinner at an Argentinian restaurant. It was phenomenally good, and afterwards, we followed that up with delicious gelato.

We woke up the next morning to head for a different region of the country. We wanted to visit Monteverde to enjoy the cloud forest. On the way through the countryside, we got flagged down by a police officer. He said Brian had been going 85 kilometers per hour in a 65 zone. The officer told us it was a $200 ticket and we would have to pay it in Liberia in a few weeks. He said he would make it a warning with no ticket if we could pay his fine of $100. As sickened as we were to do it, and since we didn’t really have another option, we paid him the money knowing he was just going to pocket it. From then on, we kept a very close eye on the speedometer.

Monteverde is high in the mountains, and the lush green growth is beautiful against the backdrop of rolling mountains. From the road, you could even see the Nicoya Peninsula and the Pacific Ocean. We rolled into our hotel just before the rains came. We stepped out of the car in our shorts and t-shirts and immediately found our jackets and pants. The air was cool and misty. We found information at the front desk on a night hike to see the local wildlife. Henry really wanted to see a sloth, so we signed up for the hike and went to our room to get ready. While we were grabbing a bite to eat before the hike, the bottom fell out and it started raining cats and dogs. All through dinner, we watched the weather with increasing dread. We were already cold, and the last thing we wanted to do was stand out in the rain waiting to see animals that were probably too smart to be out in the rain.

Thankfully the hotel helped us cancel our tour, and we were able to retire to our room and rest instead. Our room was more of a bungalow, woodsy and spacious, and we each had our own extremely comfortable bed to stretch out in. We laid in bed listening to the deluge of rain on the roof and were thankful that we weren’t outside in all of that.

The next morning, we packed our bags again. We would have preferred to stay another day, but the forecast showed that the rain wasn’t going to let up for at least another day or two. The rental car had to be returned, so whether we liked it or not, it was time to get moving. After stopping at a car wash on our way where for $6, a man washed the outside and inside of the car by hand, we returned to Alajuela and dropped the car off. Our plan was to catch the bus to Puerto Viejo de Limon the next morning, so we found a place to stay within walking distance of the bus terminal.

The bus ride was slow because of a lot of construction and traffic, and because it wasn’t air conditioned, it was very hot. But we made it to Puerto Viejo with no issues. Puerto Viejo is on the Atlantic side of Costa Rica, and it’s very much a tropical forest with a beach. The beach is several miles long, and the entire town sits within only a few hundred feet from the shore along the length. Our hostel was a 25 minute walk from the bus stop, and already tired, the walk seemed miserable. But once we made it, we were placed in a very large 5-bed dorm room that we had to ourselves. We joked about feeling like Goldilocks as we all tried out the beds to see which ones we might use.

We enjoyed our stay there, but because it was only available for one night, the next morning, we packed our bags and walked about half the distance back to town to another hostel. This one was family run, and we immediately liked the warm welcome and atmosphere. Our room wasn’t ready, but we dropped our bags off and headed to the beach. It was beautiful and calm, and we had the beach nearly to ourselves. After several hours we wandered back home to find our bags delivered to our room, and our clothes that we dropped off for cleaning were freshly cleaned and folded neatly on the bed. The room we had was easily the smallest one we have stayed in, but there was room to relax on the porch, so we didn’t mind too much. Henry kept tabs on a raccoon in a tree by the porch and worked on his schoolwork as we figured out our next steps.

We really enjoyed Puerto Viejo, but we knew it was time to go and that it would be our last stop in Costa Rica. There were several more places and things we wanted to do, but we just didn’t have time to see it all.

We had heard so much about Costa Rica before we got here, and I’m so glad I got to see it for myself. It most certainly did not disappoint. I can fully understand why Americans are retiring to this country en masse. It truly is a paradise, and the atmosphere is warm and inviting. I’m thinking we will be back to this area for an extended trip one day to fully live the pura vida. Hopefully very soon.

Touring Honduras

The world is a book, and those who do not travel only read one page.

– St. Augustine

I didn’t want to go to Guatemala, but it turned out to be my favorite country. I was more than a little sad to leave it for Honduras, but I hoped Honduras would turn out to be great in the same way. We hit a few more hurdles in Honduras than we have had before, and those made visiting the country a little less enjoyable. Overall, we had fun during our stay, and we’d likely go back if we had the opportunity,

After a 7-hour ride in 7 different buses, we finally arrived in Copan Ruinas at around 4 in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day, warm and without a cloud in the sky, but we were so tired and hungry from our travels, all we wanted to do was to find our room and rest for a moment. We wandered down the street crowded with street vendors, tuk-tuks, and locals going about their business and found our hostel fairly easily. The hostel rooms were hidden behind a bar and restaurant that happened to be closed for the evening. After unloading our heavy backpacks and stretching out on the beds for a bit, we left again in search of something to eat. After spending only an hour in our room, we were surprised when we walked out to mostly deserted and dark streets. The vendors had packed up and gone home, and only a few restaurants even appeared to be open. Having been told how dangerous Honduras can be, especially at night, we quickly settled on a local restaurant just across the street from our hostel.

Copan Ruinas was a quaint little town with cobbled streets, a spacious and inviting central park, and friendly people. It is only about 8 kilometers South of the Guatemalan border. The Mayan Ruins for which it is named sit about a kilometer or so outside of town and provide the main tourist draw to the little village. Locals have learned to capitalize on this location, and there are plenty of tour guides who are happy to show you around for a small fee. We chose not to go to the ruins for a few reasons, but primarily because they were expensive to visit.

While waiting outside the bank on our first morning, we met Luis, a local tour guide. He offered to give us a personalized tour of the ruins if we wanted, or if we would rather, he could set us up for a horseback ride through the city and countryside. We were skeptical at first, but the longer we talked with him, the more he grew on us. He was a businessman out to make a little money, for sure, but he also had a passion for teaching and a strong desire to please his customers. He worked hard on helping us learn the language and the culture in the area even as we stood on the sidewalk chatting with him. We decided to take a chance and go horseback riding with him, so we made plans to meet at the central park later in the afternoon, which would give us time to find some lunch and him some time to get the horses. We gave him a $10 deposit, and as we walked away to get our food, we wondered if we’d ever see Luis or our $10 again.

When we arrived at the park at the designated time, we were thankful and a little surprised to see Luis walking up the hill towards the park. We chatted briefly, and then we walked a few blocks with him to get the horses. Henry had never been on a horse before, and he was a little nervous about this adventure. Luis loved talking with Henry, and he spent a lot of time with him making sure he was comfortable with his ride. Once we were all mounted on our horses, Luis walked beside us and guided us through town, across a long bridge over the massive Copan River, and up to a scenic point overlooking the valley to view the green-blue mountains rolling as far as the eye could see. Throughout the two hour ride, Luis would point out various things and would teach us about them. He taught us about the local farms that were growing tomatoes, peppers, and tobacco as we passed them. He pointed out mango and avocado trees growing wild along the riverbank, and he taught us about the beautiful macaws when we saw them as well. All the while, he helped us with our pronunciation of Spanish words and phrases. When we returned to town, we helped Luis return the horses, and we parted ways never expecting to see Luis again. Throughout the next two days, we saw him several times, and every time we were greeted by name with his huge smile. Luis’ love of his town and people and his warm hospitality were easily our favorite parts of our stay at Copan Ruinas.

On our last night in town, the bar/restaurant in the hostel was having live music. Henry opted to hang out in our room and play on his phone, but Brian and I enjoyed a drink in the bar while listening to Spanish versions of some of our favorite songs along with several songs completely foreign to us. We couldn’t sing along, and we didn’t even know what some of the songs were about, but the beat was good, the enthusiasm from the crowd was infectious, and the atmosphere was fun and relaxed. We went to bed that night feeling more normal than we have in quite some time.

We left Copan Ruinas for the Atlantic coast to visit Utila, an island that several of our new friends along the way had touted. Our first bus was the Casasola Express, a local inexpensive bus that ran several times per day. We walked to the bus stop, an unmarked section of road just outside of town, and one of the gentlemen who had sang his heart out at the bar the night before turned out to be our driver. This bus, like many in the area, picked up and dropped off passengers all along it’s route. The bus was manned by two people, our driver and a doorman. The doorman stood at the door and as we approached people walking or waiting by the road, he would signal to them to find out if they were waiting for the bus. If they were, he would tell the driver to stop, would usher the new riders on board (sometimes without the bus actually stopping), and would accept their money for the fare. The bus was crowded and hot. Passengers got on the bus with machetes, packages, and even a dining table in tow. At different locations, vendors would get on the bus to sell drinks, snacks, and meals, and then they would hop off at the next stop. We even had a preacher get on and deliver a message to us as we traveled, and all of the riders respectfully gave him their attention. The bus was overcrowded, and several stood in the aisles for long portions of the ride, but four hours later, we safely arrived in San Pedro Sula’s main bus terminal.

Our next bus was a much more comfortable ride with air conditioning, reclining seats, and plenty of elbow room. This bus took us from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba. After a night in La Ceiba, we took the ferry over to Utila and found our room there. We had rented an apartment on AirBnB for three nights, and when we arrived, we walked from the ferry to our new lodgings. We weren’t thrilled when we got there; the building wasn’t much more than a run down shack. The washing machine worked, so long as you manually filled it with water for the wash and rinse cycles with the garden hose laying nearby. The stove was broken, but as long as you didn’t need the insulated door, you could heat your food. And the air conditioner would cool the room, but with the windows that were always cracked open and the cracks in the floor, walls, and ceilings, it wouldn’t hold the cool air in at all. Oh, and did I mention the dead tarantula we saw? Yeah. It was bad. We decided to make it work though, and so we carefully and reluctantly settled in.

My first impression of Utila was not very good. It was hot, and I mean suffocatingly hot. The main street was overcrowded with businesses right on top of each other, people walking in every direction, and motorcycles, tuk tuks, and four wheelers driving way too fast and too close as they weaved through the crowds and narrow streets. The water was beautiful, but the town had taken over all the beach access, so you had to walk to the outskirts of town to swim. And, because it was an island, it was expensive. The first few meals we had were overpriced and not great. In addition to that, Brian and I got a stomach bug and got stuck in the shack for most of the time. We ran the air conditioner because it was insanely hot if you didn’t, and our host began telling us that we would need to buy more electricity at the rate we were using it. At this point, honestly, I was ready to leave the island far behind. We had heard that the scuba diving was great as the island sits on the second largest barrier reef in the world, and we definitely wanted to give that a shot. We were miserable though. I had really gotten to the point that I didn’t care if we dove or not, but Henry was excited about it. We decided to move on to another place after our first three nights and see if we could turn things around.

That turned out to be a great move for us, and it changed our impression of the whole island. We rented a two-bedroom apartment above the Utila Brewing Company on the main strip. In our new place, we were still a good walk from the swimming beach, but we could use air conditioning freely, and we were within easy walking distance of quite a few restaurants. The food got better, we got better, and all of a sudden, the island wasn’t quite so terrible. We liked the atmosphere here, and that made a huge difference.

We ended up booking two days of diving with the Captain Morgan dive shop, and as a convenience for their divers, they allowed us to stay in their hotel on those nights. They had their own little private beach, so not only did we have a really nice and convenient first floor room on the main strip, but we had a perfect little swimming hole too.

After a full week on Utila, we decided to take the ferry over to another island named Roatan. Roatan was described as the more touristy big brother to Utila. Roatan island was much bigger and with its large hotels, paved roads, and recognizable restaurants, was much more commercialized than Utila. We stayed in a beautiful bed and breakfast cabin atop a hill overlooking the West End area. Our room was on the third floor, accessed by a spiral staircase. We didn’t have air conditioning, but the constant breeze coming through the windows kept the room very comfortable. The view from the roof was gorgeous, and it was a perfect place to watch the sun set over the bay. At night, the roof provided a cool place to rest and enjoy the breeze and the stars.

We took a water taxi from the West End area to the West Bay area. West End was a strip of restaurants, souvenir markets, and dive shops along the road that skirted the beach. West Bay was the main beach on the island, and it was absolutely filled with hotels, restaurants, and tour companies promising tourists the best the island could offer. The beach was gorgeous, but it was crowded and busy. After we ate our lunch, we took advice from one of the locals and sampled the pool at the nicest of the hotels. So admittedly, this may not have been a good parenting moment for us, but Brian, Henry, and I walked in from the beach like we owned the place, found a couple of lounge chairs, and relaxed the afternoon away in the cool clear waters of the biggest pool I’d ever been in. When it was time to go, we grabbed our bags and headed down to the hotel’s private dock to meet our water taxi driver and go back home.

We knew it was time for us to move on, so we said adios to Honduras after Roatan. We didn’t know what to expect in Honduras, but lush green foliage rolling over the mountains and beautiful beaches with outstanding diving were both pleasant surprises for us. It was a great trip, full of ups and downs, and we will forever remember our time here fondly.

One Month In

Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.

– Gustave Flaubert

We are currently on a bus bound for central Guatemala, but we spent most of the last week in Puerto Escondido in Oaxaca, Mexico. Puerto Escondido is a little surf town on the Pacific coast. We aren’t surfers, but I love the beach, and this town sounded perfect for us – laid back, less touristy, and of course, full of beautiful beaches. We didn’t want to miss it, so we went out of our way to get there, and we weren’t disappointed.

Our last long bus ride was 22 hours of bitter tundra as we climbed from the flat Yucatan Peninsula to the Chiapas mountains. We prepared for our 12 hour overnight bus ride from San Cristobal to Puerto Escondido with that in mind. Bundled up and prepared with additional layers, we boarded the 9:00 pm bus ready to brave the cold. This time the driver kept the bus a balmy 80 degrees and we nearly burnt up. By the time we hopped off at Puerto Escondido, all we could think about was changing into some t-shirts and shorts (or less). We took a taxi to our room and tried to adjust to the warmer weather since air conditioning wasn’t a popular amenity in the area, and our room was cooled only by the ceiling fans and the ocean breeze. After a short walk to grab some lunch, we wandered down to Playa Zicatela, the third best surfing beach in the world. The waves were far too intense for us to safely swim in, and there weren’t many surfers at that time, so we waded a bit and then took a lengthy dip in our hotel pool instead.

At dinner, we walked down to the beach again and watched the many surfers enjoying the tide coming in. It was cool to watch them, but as a mom, seeing the surfers wipe out in the massive waves was a little hard to take. Of course, Henry was mesmerized by them, and he couldn’t wait to try his hand at surfing too.

We moved into a 2-bedroom apartment we found on Airbnb for the next three nights. It was absolutely gorgeous, and for the first time in a month, we truly indulged ourselves. This is the kind of place we would typically rent for our vacations, and even though it wasn’t very expensive because of the area, it was a hit to our tight budget. But it felt amazing! Henry had his own bedroom and bathroom, and he really appreciated having a bit of privacy while we were there. Brian and I had a fantastic master suite with a king sized bed and a jaw-dropping shower. The bedrooms had air conditioning AND blankets! I know that doesn’t sound like much since everyone at home has that, but for the last month, we haven’t had that. We have stayed in places that provided air conditioning but no blankets (lest you be tempted to turn the air down a little too low). We’ve stayed in other places that provided blankets (only because it’s super cold at night and you’d freeze otherwise). I felt like a queen to be able to sleep comfortably the way I like – in a cold room and cuddled up under lots of cozy blankets.

Oh, and of course, our apartment had a kitchen. We went to the local grocery store and after a half hour of scouring the store in a frantic mess, I found enough groceries to satisfy some of our cravings. Henry really wanted tacos. Tacos? Yeah, I know. This kid is messed up. He really wanted hard shell, ground beef, Ortega seasoned tacos with shredded cheese on top like I make at home. That is a pretty tall order while in Mexico, though, and it didn’t happen. Hard taco shells are just not a thing here, and the young lady at the store just looked at me quizzically when I asked about buying taco seasoning. Instead, we settled for pancakes and bacon (real, US style bacon and not the Mexican version), a Velveeta beef macaroni meal that was far from glamourous, and skillet fried hamburgers.

The best part about cooking was, well, I guess there were two best parts. First, Henry wanted to play chef, so he cooked almost all of our meals for us and second, we were able to eat our meals in the privacy of our place, in air conditioning, and around our dining table. We could eat with our shoes off and our pajamas on! We had Netflix on the tv, but apparently the last users were Chinese, and all of the programming and menus were geared towards their interests. After dinner one night, we managed to find a show about Thai street food (with English closed captioning so we could understand them) that we curled up and watched together. That little bit of semi-normalcy did us all a lot of good, and on top of that, we found a street food vendor in Thailand that we definitely don’t want to miss once we get there.

Aside from that, we checked out three more beach areas. Playa Carrizalillo was in a cove very near our apartment. Once you descended the 168 steps to reach the sand, you were greeted with beautiful tan sand and medium sized waves. This is a great beach to learn to surf on, and while the waves were really strong still, you could swim there. I couldn’t fight the pull of the waves for long, so we moved on to Playa Manzanillo and Playa Angelito. These two beaches were only about a 10-15 minute walk from our apartment. There is a reef system near the edge of the cove that keeps the waves down, so there were lots of families swimming in the mostly calm waters. Because of the calm waters, the sand here is more rocky and shell-y (I’m not sure that’s really a word). Henry enjoyed swimming here until he watched the crabs on the nearby boulders, and then he was done. He’s good with sharks and fish, but apparently crabs freak him out.

We also experienced our first bout of sickness while in Puerto Escondido. Brian awoke with stomach issues on our last full day there, and he was running a slight fever. I went to the market and bought ramen and chicken for lunch, but the heat and my hunger did me in and I ended up throwing up too. Chef Henry came to our rescue and nursed us both back to health, and by our last morning, we were back on our feet again. We were extraordinarily grateful for our private kitchen and the lush apartment while we were recuperating, though. The sickness caused us to miss out on our planned surfing lessons, but at least we were holed up in comfort.

On Tuesday, we caught another 12-hour overnight bus back to San Cristobal, and this one was actually comfortable. Yesterday, we took COVID tests so we could move on to Guatemala, bought our tickets for the journey, and enjoyed San Cristobal de las Casas for that final time. As I write this now, I am on the bus almost to Quetzaltenango. It’s 5 pm, and we have been traveling since 8 am, so we are tired and more than eager to get there now. It’s been really nice to reminisce about our latest beach adventure while on this ride, though.

Since we’re officially a month in, I thought I’d share some of the observations we’ve had since we’ve been traveling (in no particular order). I hope you enjoy.

  • Mexico is not what I expected. I imagined hot, dry deserts and humid beaches. There are parts of Mexico like that, but there are also areas that have beautiful alpine forests and gorgeous mountains. And there are some parts that are very, very cold.
  • Pancita de res is not good. It’s a beef soup and it sounds good, but don’t order it. Ever. Seriously.
  • Mexico is really fond of speed bumps. Very large speedbumps placed inches apart and not well marked.
  • Drivers in the US are really pretty good, even when they don’t use their turn signals.
  • I’m very grateful to live in a society where retiring is an option. I’ve seen many elderly people working way harder than they should have to at their ages. On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve also seen many young kids growing up hard and working at very young ages. I’m thankful for the lifestyles we are able to live at home.
  • If you don’t like mayo, make sure to order your sandwich ‘sin mayonesa’ even if it’s a sandwich that you’d never dream of putting mayo on. Everyone in Mexico seems to really love the stuff.
  • If you order a hamburger here instead of a beef hamburguesa, they will bring you a hamburger topped with ham. It’s surprisingly not bad, but not at all what I expected.
  • ‘Mi espanol es muy malo’ accompanied by an embarrassed smile goes a long way here. It means ‘My Spanish is very bad.’ Most people will laugh at you for a moment, and then will try really hard to help you.
  • Google translate is the best app ever. We would be lost without it.
  • Warm showers are a luxury we don’t appreciate enough. As are toilet seats, free public bathrooms, and access to the entire roll of toilet paper. Most showers here are lukewarm at best, but some have been cold. As for toilets, if you use the restroom in a restaurant, it’s free and generally good. If you are out and need to go, you have to pay a fee, and when you do, you’re given a premeasured allotment of toilet paper to use and most of the time the toilet doesn’t have a seat.
  • If bathrooms in the US were set up like the bathrooms here, more people would wash their hands. You can go to the toilet in private, but the sinks are out where everyone can see them. Its very easy to tell who does and doesn’t wash properly.
  • Written menus are underrated. Many restaurants here don’t have them at all. The server walks up to your table and tells you in the quickest speed possible everything the restaurant has to offer. You have to listen very carefully for something you recognize. I think this is because the menus change daily at these restaurants, but it’s still difficult when you don’t speak the language well. Hence, pancita de rez (see above).
  • I look forward to being able to flush my used toilet paper again. I get that the pipes here aren’t capable of handling the paper too, but I still think it’s gross to throw it in the trash. Ugh.
  • One thing I think we’ve always taken for granted was standard opening/closing times. Businesses here are more, lets call it flexible. Business hours here are a little more of a suggestion than a guarantee. It’s a bit of an adjustment to get used to.
  • Building codes are also awesome. I’ve been in buildings here with super steep steps, no guardrails, open electrical wiring, and handicap inclines that would be downright terrifying. US building codes can be a pain, but they do make things pretty nice (and much safer, generally).
  • The Coco and Pineapple popsicles I’ve been enjoying are perhaps my absolute favorite popsicle ever. I’m not kidding – these things are amazing. If the Mexican grocery stores at home don’t have them, I’m going to be extremely disappointed.
  • I’ve adjusted to this no makeup, crazy hair thing exceptionally well. This may be a tough adjustment when I get back home. Of course, I may not adjust back either.
  • Watching kids laugh and play together is heartwarming, no matter who and where they are.
  • So many times we’ve wanted something, and I know I could have it within an hour or so at home. I miss the convenience of a local Walmart and Amazon deliveries.
  • We have too much stuff packed with us. We’ve been talking about sending some stuff home to lighten our load, but it’s really expensive. And, I’m just to selfish/cheap to toss it or donate it all. So, for now, we’ll continue to haul it around until we come up with a better plan.
  • Thirteen year old boys (and 43 year old men, for that matter) are funny when they see topless a woman on the beach.
  • The Bug Bite Thing is amazing. If you use it right after a bug bite, it gets rid of the itch. Awesome, right?
  • Mountain Dew is not a thing here. I’ve seen a Mountain Dew Melon version, but that’s it. These people just don’t know what they are missing.
  • Gas stations are different here. Some are like ours. Some are stands on the side of the road where you get gas from a 5-gallon container and they use a 2-liter bottle top as a funnel to pour it in your car. It’s interesting.
  • Pets are different here. We saw a kid ride his cow (saddle and all), watched lots of children walking their sheep on leashes, and we have stayed in several hotels with resident cats and dogs.
  • One of the most enjoyable parts of this trip is when we are all laying in bed at night and joking in the dark about how our adventures have gotten derailed and the funny things we’ve seen.

So we have wrapped up our first month of traveling this week, and it’s hard to believe that we have already been gone for that long. I’ve learned so much over the past few weeks, and I know the journey has barely begun. I’m so very grateful that we decided to take this trip. I hope as you’ve followed along with my blog and our posts so far, you can feel the gratitude and appreciation we have not only for the people and experiences we have had here, but also for all of our friends and family and the love and support we continue to receive from home. Thank you!

Moving forward

You don’t have to have it all figured out to move forward. Just take the next step.

– Unknown

Tulum was one of the towns we had been really wanting to visit. Brian had come to Mexico by himself on a scouting trip (of sorts) this past January, and he had really liked it there. When we were about to give up on our dream, he saw this sign on the street in Tulum, and it gave him some encouragement to keep trying. He’s had this picture as a wallpaper on his phone since then. For that reason alone, I would have gone to Tulum, but it helped that Henry was eager to go where his Daddy had been before.

When hurricane Grace made landfall last week, Tulum took a direct hit. We weren’t really sure what we’d find when we got there, but since all of the buses out of Valladolid were heading that direction, we thought we would ride into town and check it out. If things looked ok, we could find a place to stay for a few days. If they weren’t good, we’d move on to plan B and head a little further south.

We ended up staying in town for four nights, and we found the area to be touristy, but mostly in a good way. Our first two nights, we stayed at a cute hotel on the downtown strip. We were only a block away from the bus stop and were surrounded by restaurants and local shops. Henry enjoyed the rooftop pool every chance that he could, and I loved the shower. Our room was small but efficient, and we spent most of our time exploring the town.

Our final two nights in Tulum, per Henry’s request, we stayed at Mama’s Home, a small hostel where Brian had stayed in January. We had a spacious private room on the second floor. We enjoyed our freshly prepared breakfast each morning with the other travelers and we hung out each afternoon in the hostel courtyard hammocks until we went to dinner as a group. Henry was our social butterfly making friends in the kitchen as he prepared snacks for us each day.

On Monday, we rented bikes from a nearby shop and rode a few miles to the beach area. The beach was open, but the rough waters had continued to churn up the seaweed and the shore was a little gross. We played in the sand and waves for a few hours under the scenic cliffs of the Tulum ruins, and I could imagine how beautiful the beach must have been normally. The next morning we walked out of our hotel to find Henry’s rented bike had been stolen. Someone had cut the chain off and taken the bike. Henry had been hoping to ride to breakfast, and while I hated that the bike was stolen, my rear end was relieved to not have to ride bikes anymore.

On Tuesday we ventured a few miles towards Playa del Carmen to a place called Casa Tortugas. They had a hotel and restaurant, but their main attraction was the four cenotes you got access to when you entered their property.

A cenote is a freshwater filled sinkhole and there are thousands of them in the Yucatán peninsula. Some of them are in caves, some are partially open like Ik-Kil, the cenote we visited near Chichen Itza, and some are completely open where the caves that were once above them collapsed. Some of the cenotes served religious purposes in the Mayan days, and gold, silver, jewels, and human remains have been found in the bottom of many (the Mayans believed in human sacrifices to appease their Gods).

At Casa Tortugas, they had two open cenotes and two closed ones (in caves). We had a great time exploring three of the four cenotes there (one was closed to visitors for the day). Tres Zapotes was a long narrow river-like cenote and it was open. Cenote Dorca was another open cenote that was more like a water oasis with a wooden boardwalk surrounding it and a few jumping platforms. Henry jumped in from the 15’ platform at least 10 times. Cenote Wisho was a closed cenote, and it was my favorite. You entered the cenote through a set of stairs that descended into the cave. The water was about 75’ deep, and the ceiling of the cave was only a few feet from the surface of the water. Once we were all in the water, our tour guide dove in and swam under all of us to lead us through the cave and help us find the exit on the other side.

On our last day in Tulum, we rode the Collectivo towards Coba to visit Cenote Carwash. It is called that because at some point in its history, someone had a carwash at the site. It’s real name is Aktun Ha. This is another open cenote and most of the swimming area is around 25 feet deep. The water is cool and refreshing and crystal clear. This cenote is also a local scuba diving spot. At one spot in the bottom, you can access the cave system under the shore that stretches for several miles. Experienced divers can come there and follow the rope guide system to safely navigate the caves. Signs near the surface mapped out the cave and told of how they’ve found remnants of life deep in the cave indicating that it hasn’t always been water filled.

Today we are traveling out of the Yucatán on a 21 hour bus ride to the mountainous region of Chiapas. We could have stayed in Tulum and the Yucatán much longer because there was so much more we wanted to see, but the rest of the world is waiting on us. We want to experience all that we can on this trip, and our time already feels so short. But perhaps we will come back to this area one day.

Choose Joy

Don’t wait for things to get easier, simpler, better. Life will always be complicated. Learn to be happy right now, otherwise you will run out of time.

– Unknown

We really enjoyed the paradise of Isla Holbox, but after 2 nights stay there, we left with a plan of traveling to Valladolid and visiting Chichen Itza. Our bus wasn’t scheduled to leave from Chiquila until late in the afternoon, and since there was absolutely nothing to do in Chiquila, we decided to bide our time on the beach again until it we needed to catch our ferry. We left our bags with the hotel, swam in the warm ocean water, and then we grabbed a late lunch at a cool little pizza and pasta restaurant near our hotel. We all had pasta which tasted amazing (or maybe it was just different from the standard Mexican fare). After lunch we grabbed our bags, changed our clothes, and then headed towards the ferry.

Both of the other ferries we’d ridden had taken credit cards, so at this time, we had no idea that our being low on cash was a problem. Unfortunately, the cell service is very spotty on the island, and the cashier couldn’t get a cell signal to run our credit card. So with 15 minutes until the last ferry left, we hiked 2 blocks back into town to the local bank to withdraw more money. By this time, I began to panic because we had already booked our bus tickets and a few nights in Valladolid. If we missed this ferry, we would also miss the once a day bus out of Chiquila for Valladolid too. While Brian talked to the cashier at the bank, Henry stood outside with me reassuring me that everything was going to be alright. As soon as Brian came out of the bank, we all jogged as fast as we could towards the ferry. Now, I have super short legs, and my pack is about 28 pounds of extra weight. Needless to say, me jogging with a full pack like this had to be comical to anyone watching us, although at the time, I found nothing funny about the situation. We were the last people they let on when we finally made it to the boat, but we did make it. As I sat down in my seat, I thanked God for getting us on board.

We made it back to Chiquila in time to grab a snack at the local market and head to the bus station. The station was packed, so we found a good place to stand under the awning where we could catch a breeze and wait. The bus to Merida pulled up, and we watched them load as we continued to wait for our bus. When I had bought our bus tickets online the previous night, I knew our bus would be mostly full, but looking around the station 10 minutes before we were supposed to leave and without the Merida travelers, the station was almost empty. As they closed the Merida bus up, Henry and I went to check the departure schedule board (which was blank by the way) to verify our bus time just in case we remembered the times wrong. The attendant walked in and asked us if we needed anything. I showed him our tickets and he quickly let us know that we needed to be on the Merida bus and that we needed to ‘Go now!’ Thankfully he was able to catch the driver, and they reopened the bus to let us on. Again, I made it to my seat and thanked God we had made it that far!

After two hours of driving through the jungle, we pulled into Valladolid in the middle of an absolute downpour. Our hotel was about a mile north of the bus station, and we debated hailing a cab or walking it. One look at the line for taxis in the absurdly hot station and we decided to walk it. Now, we were prepared for rain but we hadn’t been expecting it, so we found a corner of the station to reconfigure our bags and change into shoes that could get wet. By the time we got our gear swapped over and our bags back on, we stepped out to a wet but no longer raining street. With our bags on our backs, taking off a raincoat is an extremely cumbersome task, so we opted to keep them on for the walk even though we didn’t need them.

We had sidewalks the entire mile route, but sidewalks in Valladolid are much different than the sidewalks I’m used to. The steps were uneven, each home or business had a steep slope to get into their area, and it felt like every single home or business demanded a different height sidewalk. It felt much more like a hike down a rocky trail than a stroll down a city street; you had to watch your footing the entire distance. Also, many of the homes/businesses use smooth or glossy tiles instead of concrete, and those become very slick when wet. The walk wasn’t bad, but in the dark and rain, it felt a little treacherous.

We finally made it to the hacienda where we were staying and our rain jackets were more wet on the inside from our sweat than on the outside from the rain. Our third floor room was nice but we couldn’t get the air conditioning to turn on, so we waited in sheer exhaustion for the clerk to come help us. Thankfully he was able to quickly get it going, and we rested really well that night.

On Wednesday morning, we woke up to an alarm for the first time in a week. We were going to see Chichen Itza. Our plan had been to get up early enough to make the mile long hike and get on the first Collectivo to the ruins. A collectivo is a hybrid between a bus and a taxi. It is a 12-15 passenger van that drives a particular route and picks up/drops off people anywhere along the route. The van leaves whenever they get enough passengers, so you might leave immediately or you might have to wait. They open at 7:00, so if there is enough interest, you may be able to leave immediately and beat the crowds at the tourist attractions. Unfortunately, we were tired from the night before, and we drug into the parking lot at about 7:20 after the first van was gone. The attendant let us know that Chichen Itza was closed because of Hurricane Grace that would be coming through on Thursday, but he said (or maybe we thought he said) the Ik-kil cenote would be open. We had planned to go to the cenote after the ruins anyway, so we decided we would just go there instead.

Apparently there wasn’t much interest in the second van, and it took until around 8:30 before we finally had enough passengers for them to leave. Thirty minutes later, we saw the gates to Ik-kil and asked the driver to stop and let us out. As we crossed the street to the entrance, we were glad to salvage our day, but as we drew near, we were informed that the cenote was also closed that day because of the storm.

At this point, I started laughing just to keep from crying. We were 30 minutes outside of our town and it looked like the day was just doomed. We were still recovering from nearly missing our ferry and our bus the night before, and this wasn’t helping. And did I mention that this was Brian and my 20th wedding anniversary?

As we stood on the side of the road waiting for the Collectivo to drive by on its way back to Valladolid, a couple from Utah was pulling back out onto the road in their little car. They had also come to Ik-kil and had been turned away disappointed. They were on their way back to Cancun where they were staying, and they offered to give us a ride back into town. My parents will probably die to hear this, but we hopped in and talked nonstop all the way back to town. They were students in college who were taking a bit of a break before they completed medical school. We told them about our plans, and they were really excited for us. It was the first time we’d had a real conversation with someone besides ourselves on the trip, and it felt so good to really talk with someone!

Hitch-hiking home from Ik-Kil Cenote near Valladolid, Mexico

We safely made it back to Valladolid, and they let us out near a beautiful church in the downtown area we wanted to see. We toured it and then walked around the downtown area for a while exploring the quaint little town. Once we returned to the room, we swam for a bit, and then cleaned up for a nice anniversary dinner. After dinner, Brian helped me handwash some of laundry in the bathroom sink and we went to bed with our makeshift laundry lines hanging over our heads.

On Thursday morning, Grace hit the area around 4 am. We cracked open the windows and enjoyed the cooler temperatures as we watched the wind whip the trees. Henry caught up on his schoolwork as Brian and I tried to work through our plan and the few items on our to do lists. By lunch, Grace was gone, and we ventured out to find some lunch. We struggled to find food as almost every business was closed that day. The hotel had put out bread, cheese slices, and coffee so that we could at least have that if we wanted. We did find a great meal in the downtown area, though. After lunch, we walked through town in search of a rental car business, but we never could find it. In the process, we got caught in a thunderstorm and got absolutely drenched on our 20 minute walk back home. As Henry splashed in the puddles, I tried to laugh at the absurdity of our situation.

By dinner, most of the businesses were back open again, and we had a really good meal at the hotel restaurant. Henry had pancakes and you might have thought he’d never eaten anything quite so good. After dinner, we sat outside under the breezeway by our room and taught Henry how to play Hearts and laughed about how much misadventure we’d been through during the week.

On Friday, we had a lazy day at the hotel, and we found a plan B on our laundry. Due to the humidity, our laundry that we worked so hard to wash wasn’t drying, and we needed to get on the road again. We found a laundry service that would wash our remaining clothes for us, so we dropped those off and hung out at the hotel most of the day. We picked up our laundry that evening, and it was like Christmas in August to get my stack of freshly laundered clothes back. We decided to stay in Valladolid another night just to try one more time to go to Chichen Itza. Thankfully, this time we were able to make it!

Saturday we toured the ruins and spent the afternoon at the Ik-kil cenote, and it was worth the wait. Henry’s favorite thing about the cenote was jumping in from the platform; he probably jumped in 50 times. The cenote was absolutely beautiful, and we swam with the fish in the freezing water for a few hours.

On Sunday, we packed up and left Valladolid behind. It was bittersweet for me, though, I must admit. There is so much more I want to see, and I know we’ve got to get moving if we want to see it all. However, I really liked this little town. It was beautiful with its colorful buildings and wide doorways, and the people were very kind to us. I remember a posting that I had shared on Facebook recently about Choosing Joy, and I decided that it was a perfect quote for this week. The past few days haven’t worked out like we had planned at all, but if we can find a way to choose joy through the chaos and disappointments, we can remember this as the adventure it was instead of the ordeal it could have been.

Traveling Well

You don’t have to be rich to travel well.

Eugene Fodor

When we first started telling people about this idea of traveling the world, there were two questions I got asked repeatedly. The first was ‘Did you win the lottery or something?’ and the second was ‘How can you afford that?’ I tried to answer the questions the best way I could, but at the time, I didn’t really know if my answers had much truth to them or not. We’d read about people traveling the world on the cheap, but we had no idea how to make that happen. I imagined them sleeping in their cars, not showering for weeks on end, and living off of ramen noodles for every meal. If that’s what traveling cheap meant, I didn’t want any part of it.

About two years ago, we made the decision that we wanted to travel long term. At the time, we didn’t really know how we could make that work, but we knew we had to change our lives in order to make it happen. So we did what we knew to do at the time. We tightened our budget – we stopped spending money on things we didn’t really want or need and started whole-heartedly saving what we could. This helped a little, but at the rate we were going, it was still going to take forever to save up enough to travel for a year. We both had good paying jobs, but we spent enough money each month to not have much left over at the end for our savings.

We started reading blogs and watching videos on how to manage our money differently. For years, we had one checking account, one savings account, and one credit card. We put our monthly expenses on a credit card and paid it off at the end of the month, which allowed us to use the credit to live on while our money was in the bank earning interest. This strategy had worked well for us for a very long time. Several ‘travel hackers’ that we learned about advised playing the system to take advantage of extra points or bonuses that you could earn to help pay for travel. There were lots of different checking/savings accounts and credit cards out there that offered significant sign up bonuses and rewards on specific items. We took their advice and opened several strategic accounts so we could earn more on our normal every-day purchases. We weren’t spending any more money than we had been, but we became very strategic about where we put the expenses.

Dining expenses were charged to one card because we earned 3% back on those. Groceries went to another card because we earned 5% at grocery stores on that card. Gas was charged on a third card because we got 2% back on fuel charges. We also took advantage of our grocery store benefits when we could. If we had a big expense coming up at Lowe’s Home Improvement, we’d buy a gift card for Lowe’s at our grocery store and then use it to purchase our items at Lowe’s. This allowed us to earn extra fuel points through the grocery store and 5% back on the expense through the credit card (grocery stores earned 5% whereas home improvement stores only earned the standard 1%). We’d also fill up both vehicles with gas at the same time so we could max out our earned fuel discounts. To be completely honest, I thought Brian had lost his mind when he told me about his plan, and I wasn’t crazy about it. I knew he’d done the research, but it just seemed like a complicated mess to me. I’m still not loving the idea of it, really, but now those points are coming in very handy, and I’m glad we tried it. For example, our Southwest flights to Cozumel would have cost us almost $600 if we paid for them outright. Because of the travel hacking, we only ended up paying $105 for all three of us to get to Mexico. We had to use up some of our banked points, but the flights cost us only a few of the points we earned just for signing up for the cards and saved us quite a lot of money.

By the way, there is a lot of information on travel hacking available on the web. If you are interested in learning more from us, please leave us a note in the comments and we can add a more in-depth post later.

So we saved our money, and we earned a lot of bonus points in the process, but traveling is still expensive, isn’t it? Well, it is and it isn’t. Vacationing is expensive, or at least it is for us. When we would go on vacation, we would want to go everywhere and see everything while we could. We’d splurge a little every day because, well, we’re on vacation. The travel that we are doing now isn’t really a vacation, though. Neither our budgets nor our waists could afford for us to vacation for a year, no matter how much we wanted to. So we are living here more like we might live at home. For us, that means eating moderate meals and splurging only occasionally, staying in decent lodgings that may not be overly luxurious, and visiting free/inexpensive sights where we can. We are living well, but because we are in this for the long haul and not just a week’s vacation, we have to maintain on a modest budget.

Playing cards after dinner

We had read that you could travel the world on $50 per day, and while we initially thought the guy who touted that had to be crazy, we hoped he wasn’t. Fortunately, over the past 11 days, we have managed to easily keep our expenses in the same range. With travel insurance, lodging, transportation (including our flights to Mexico), food, and all our supplies, we’ve averaged $146/day. When you consider that is for 3 people, the $50/day number feels pretty real. Today, for example, we spent $35 on our hotel, $45 on our food, and $8 to have our laundry done. We have been resting by the pool and catching up on Henry’s schoolwork, so it’s been a bit of a lazy day for us. Our travel days are more expensive, but bus fare for all of us from town to town has been about $35 so even that isn’t too bad. The rest of the world won’t be like it is here in Mexico. Some areas will be much more expensive, but some will be significantly cheaper as well. We’ve found it pretty easy to live at this range here, so long as we stay out of the touristy areas mostly. We are eating very well, we’ve had nice private hotel/hostel rooms everywhere we’ve been, and we’ve gone and done quite a lot.

Money is important for traveling, but it can be an excuse that keeps you from enjoying it also. We could have worked longer and saved more, but how much is ever really enough? One day we may return to our jobs and work a while longer, but for now, this is what we need. We aren’t living in the lap of luxury, but we are well fed and happy, and we are together. I’m glad we had the courage to try something new and to invest in us. We might not be rich financially, but we have each other, and for today, that’s enough.

Enjoy the ride

Life is like a roller coaster. Sometimes you close your eyes and hold on in shear terror, and other times, you just have to raise your hands up in the air and enjoy the ride.

Unknown

The past week has been a complete whirlwind, an emotional rollercoaster like I’ve never experienced before. All week, I have been flitting around as fast as I could trying to get everything that we needed done before our departure. At times, I’d think through how amazing this trip will be and how lucky we are to get to do it. More often than not, though, I could barely breathe because the anxiety would creep in and my joy and excitement would be overpowered by fear – fear of the unknown, of missing my family, of not getting all my ducks in the row in time, of the million and one things that could go wrong. I would remind myself constantly that this opportunity is worth the short term struggles, and that when we actually get going on the trip, everything will be much more calm. Sometimes it worked to calm me down, but not usually.

I know Brian and Henry have been going through this as well. When Henry gets nervous, he talks more than usual (and that’s saying something). When Brian is anxious, he gets cranky. I become like a drill sergeant barking orders with no sense of humor. Through all of it, thankfully, we’ve clung to each other and we’ve pulled closer as a family instead of letting the stress pull us apart. And as I think about it, that’s part of the reason we are going on this trip anyway – to pull together. So maybe it has been a little good for us.

Our last day in Nashville was chaotic, at best. We had the last of our stuff to take to storage, family to see, two cars to sell, and we had to get packed for a 6:00 am flight the next morning. We went hard all day long, each of us trying to divide and conquer the chore list. If it weren’t for the help of our family, we wouldn’t have made it. Heck, even with their help, we ended up flying out this morning on 2.5 hours of sleep. There were tears and nervous laughter last night as we packed our bags, anxiety as we worried that the zippers on our bags might not be able to hold against the stress and wondering what else we might have missed, sadness as we hugged our family for the last time for a long while, and excitement about what our next days would hold.

We woke up at 3 am this morning, quickly dressed and repacked our bags, threw out everything that we had left in the apartment, took out the garbage, and left two boxes of stuff for my sister-in-law to pick up later just as our Lyft driver pulled up. The airport was buzzing even at 4 am, and my anxiety along with the big crowd and the general chaos of checking in were enough to raise my blood pressure and make me nauseous. We felt unprepared as we went through check in trying to answer all of the questions and supply all the documents they needed. Apparently Southwest had sent us an email on Monday with a link to a form we would also need, but since we were running crazy all day, we’d missed it. The agent was fantastic, and she helped us through it, but we could feel the glares from everyone in line behind us as we held them up. We finally made it through security and to the gate with plenty of time to grab some breakfast to try to settle ourselves and catch our breath, but the hurricane of emotions continued to batter my heart. On the way down the corridor to the plane, I began crying like a baby at the thought of not seeing home again for a year. The time will fly by, but I’ve never been very good with goodbyes, and this one was hard. As I sat on the plane, Henry and Brian did their best to calm me, and they helped me remember that my home is wherever they are. Since the moment we took off with both of them holding my hand, I’ve had a peace again about this adventure. This is what we are supposed to do, after all.

As I type this, Brian is asleep in a hammock in our room, and Henry is passed out on the bed. We’re all beat, but now that we are here, we can rest a little easier. We’ll find some dinner soon, and tomorrow, we’ll figure out where we go from here. We don’t know what’s in store for us now, but we’re going to do our best to raise our hands up in the air and enjoy the ride.