idsassa.blogg.se

Just look at the world around you, right here on the ocean floor. Such wonderful things surround you, what more are you looking for?

Publicerad 2013-03-28 00:31:11 i Allmänt,

Have you ever dreamed about a place where everyone greats you with smiles and shining eyes? A place were days can turn into weeks and no matter how long you are staying, the people there still make you feel like one in the gang? A place where everyone is welcoming, everyone is open and everyone is easy-going? I am here to tell you that that place do exist. It is called Utila Dive Center.
 
 
The boatride that took us out from Honduras mainland to Utila was on the other hand not too inviting. When the crew started walking around handning out puke-bags I understood that this would be a rough ride. Not handling seasickness too good in my past I was worried. What had I gotten myself into?
 
 
Arriving on the island, one long hour later, I followed a girl with a bright orange shirt with UDC printed on it. She took me and five more others to Mango Inn where we could spend the first night in Utila for free, while deciding what to do on the island. I, together with two swedish girls Emma & Julia and one dutch guy named Jaap (I know! How cool name is that?!), was already sure about our reasons for the visit. And after the first beer while watching the sunset on the dock we were set to start our theory lessons the next day.
 
I spent most of my time in Utila at two places, Utila Dive Center and Treetanic.
 
 
Declan (our instructor) and Jerry (instructor-in-training) took care of us when we were at UDC. Started out being four students and then three (Emma decided she would rather be a bikini-babe sunbathing on the boats roof), to be five students in the end (two new americans joined the group on the second day). They taught us all we needed to know about diving in theory and practised skills with us underwater, all the time with a smile on their faces and a joke never far away. They made it all so easy. Dec and Jerry took us from the first day - when we knew absolutely nothing, til day four - when we all became certified divers. I, Julia and Jaap was hooked. We had to continue. Already the next day we started our Advanced course. Still with Dec and Jerry.
 
 
While the days were all spent at UDC or at sea, the nights were spent at Treetanic. A treehouse with bar. An awesome place. I went there already on my first night with Karen and Menna (the brittish girls I told you about in the previous post) and we all fell in love with the bar and the atmosphere. It also turned out to be one of the mandatory places after the sunset beer at UDC. The nights that didn't end with a beer at Tree were few, one out of nine.
 
 
The last day at Utila was sad. We had four fun dives, which I could only do two of because of a cold. Making me even more bitter. After the last beer at the dock on the dive centre we went to Tree where we shared stories about what had been the best and the worst experience at Utila. It was a great night - making leaving Utila even harder.
 
 
The boatride the morning after was completely different from the boatride to the island. I no longer questioned myself why I went there, instead I was wondering: Why didn't I stay?
 
Kommentarer (3)

Darling it's better, down where it's wetter.

Publicerad 2013-03-18 16:20:00 i Allmänt,

It isn't everyday you wake up, staring at a bus roof while the bus is literally jumping down the street and up a mountain in Honduras. And during those first few seconds of blurriness, you wipe your eyes yawning and thinking: How did I end up here?
 
 
"It's going to be a bumpy ride" the pilot politely informed us, even before we had left the ground. Definetly a bad sign. On the half-full airplane heading for Guatemala City I prepared myself for an awful, unbearable ride. How was I going to survive it? There was only one way and one solution - sleeping.
 
At the airport in Guatemala I was waved through customs without having to scan my 19.4 kg bag and out in the arrival "hall" (which basically was out on the street) I found my guy from Los Volcanes. Five minutes in the car and we drove through some gates with an armed guard and just a bit further down the road was the hostel. I went out to buy water and heard a buzzing over my head. Every building was surrounded by high, thick concrete walls with barbed wire buzzing at the top. It was electrified. What could be the reason for all these safety actions? I got my water and hurried back to the hostel.
 

 
 
The day after I got a shuttle from the airport taking me and a new found friend all the way to a hostels door in Antigua. We shared a private room for the night and spent the day walking around the city, shopping at the market and drinking coffee in the Parque Central. In the evening we made omelette (though since I was in charge of it, it turned out more like scrambled eggs) and planned our travels. The following day she left for Rio Dulce while I hiked up one of the nearby volcanoes, Pacaya.
 
 
Didn't get very impressed. The hike was really easy compared to the ones in Nicaragfua and the lava (that you were supposed to be able to poke with a stick) hadn't been there for three years. But we had a good group and a nice time barbecuing marshmallows. And somehow I ended up being the guides' translator.
 
I liked Antigua, already after the first day. Maybe not as a backpacker but I could see myself living there. And the feeling just got stronger when I found my first real kickboxing club in five months.
 
 
I couldn't leave before I had trained with them, leading me to spend one day extra in Antigua. And the day before my bus to Honduras I had, once again, changed my travel route.
 
4 am is an awful time to catch a bus. Especially when it is a minibus with no support for your head. Leaving sleeping, not impossible, but seriously uncomfortable. I shared the bus with one american, one canadian, two brittish and seven japanese. After careful consideration I decided to hook up with the brittish girls and we spent the day together at Copan. We did the most important stuff, visited the ruins and tried all three of the local beer brands.
 
 
The one thing Antigua was lacking was street food, a thing Copan turned out to have lots of. I challenged my taste buds with some tacos leaving my lips stinging, nose running and mouth burning. But not to worry people! Nothing as bad that a fresh smoothie couldn't set straight.
 
Around nine o'clock the small town was getting ready for the evening. People, all dressed up, was standing on the main square waiting for the event of evening to begin. There were little girls in princess dresses everywhere. We,on the other hand, were getting ready for bed.
 
 
The alarm went of at 5 am, another awful time for catching a bus. (But still better than the hour when the roosters started challenging each others in who could cuckoo the loudest..) We packed our things and headed for the bus to take us to La Ceiba.
 
So here we are, on an insanely bumpy busride, sliding on the seats from side to side. Eating a "bread" (which was supersweet with cinnamon and raisins, not something I would ever call bread after the hours I've spent baking, let's just call it a cake. In a bread form and consistency) imagining myself it will absorb all the fluids in my stomache and make me not needing to pee. 
 
 
Still yawning after my nap I am now very aware of where I am and where I am going. Utila. It is time to discover a new world. The world under the sea.
 
Kommentarer (2)

I lost the Gringo trail and ended up in Charter hell.

Publicerad 2013-03-12 06:08:00 i Allmänt,

 
I never told you about Isla de Ometepe. How we rented bicycles to go really off-road, went horse-backriding on the beach (yes you read right! I actually did it again! Noone could ever have seen that coming - especially not me nor Ida) and went swimming in a swimming pool without bottom. We had a great time.
 
 
But, it is time for me to write about something else than Nicaragua. No matter how much I care for the country I must accept the fact that I'm not there anymore.
 
After a busride to San Jose, Costa Rica, where I got offered a job to dig in Jordaan, I and Mariella jumped on an airplane to Dominican Republic! She needed a break from her studies and work and asked if I maybe wanted to join on a vacation. Me, doing a seven months long vacation, says "of course! I could need a little weekend away!" And off we went.
The first impression was not at all inviting. This country is definetly not a backpackers cup of tea. I went from the Gringo trail straight into Charter hell. We were supposed to spend our first night in Samana, but in a country with big love to their taxi's, that would cost us 200 US$. After much consideration we decided to skip the whales for this time and just head to Cabarete where we anyway were supposed to spend the rest of our stay. If we were lucky maybe we could just stay one night more at the hostel we already had booked.
 
We weren't. Or I guess - it's all just a question of how you look at it. After the taxiride with a former chef of a Playboy House somewhere along road (highway?) 23 in the States, we got to Cabarete Beach Hostel. Here we had booked 5 nights in a dorm. The only teeny tiny problem was that they no longer had dorms. Only privates, and not for the same price we had been promised. On top of this the lady who was incharge really rude. Oh who am I kidding? She was a bitch. It all ended with our driver/playboy-chef lashed out on the hostel lady. You go explayboy-chef!
 
It ended with us staying at a hotel for the first night, since Cabarete is a charter city there simply aren't that many hostels. We spent the night googleing and searching hostels to find a solution. According to CBB they were working together with an other place called Ali's Camp or Cabarete Surf Camp or something like that and they should have our reservation. The following day we went over there, armed to our teeth with arguments to get a discount, only to meet a (at first) friendly lady telling us they didn't have dorms either, only private rooms. When we didn't take the offer of a private room twice the price we were promised she soon turned very aggressive and kicked us out. But at least we got our deposit back.
 
 
Not completely desperate but starting to fear we would have to spend a full week at a hotel, we walked on a road for about one kilometre when we saw it. Like a castle at the end of the road there was a hostel. First there was noone but, after a little bit of waiting, a small girl greeted us saying of course they had beds for us! And they also had a pool, wi-fi, lockers and a big kitchen. It was a lot more than we could ask for. And there we could stay for the rest of our time in Dominican Republic, Laguna Park Hostel.
 
Even with accomodation organized nothing really went as planned for the week. We went to Cabarete for sun, swim and kitesurfing. We had clouds most of the days and only got as far as a theory lesson - then the wind disappeared. And it never came back. So I must apologize for all my "OH I am gonna see whales! OH I will try kitesurfing!" It was all dreams that never came true.
 
 
With all that said, we did have an awesome time in Cabarete! We enjoyed both sea and pool, the food was delicious, the white snickers the best, our roomies in the hostel were sweet, found great white wine, not to mention the rum&coke, friendly mototaxi drivers that even drove us for free and superfriendly family when we rented a car. Even though I cant really recommend anyone to rent a car in Dominican Rep. It was simply too much excitement for ones everyday life.
 
Kommentarer (0)

How one month turns into two.

Publicerad 2013-03-04 03:32:30 i Allmänt,

When my travelpartner Ida had made up her mind about going back home and I realized that meant I would either go with her back to Sweden/Norway or I could continue the trip on my own. The choice was simple. I wasn’t ready to go, no estoy lista.

But the unexpected turn made me think of what I wanted to do, now when I was on my own. After two months of Ooooh and Aaaah-experiences I could feel I was getting tired. Not of travelling in itself but of all impressions everywhere. I wanted to continue but I needed a place where I could stay for a longer period of time. So my search began.

After travelling with Peter and Sarah, that had been volunteering their way down through centralamerica, I started with asking them. Where had they been? What country would be best? Which cities are good? Is it easy? Do you need to speak Spanish?


I got a lot of tips, and the one that really got stuck on my mind was the city Leon in Nicaragua. It was supposed to be a good city with the sea not too far away, some happenings and a cinema. Actually, it was the cinema that sold it to me. I wanted to volunteer in Leon, a city where I also could go see a movie.

How would I find a place? Thankfully nowadays, the search is not that hard. I went on Google and typed “Free volunteering Leon Nicaragua” and that's where I found it. Sonati, a non-profit organization where I needed to stay at least one month. Perfect. After an email and a skype interview it was decided. The 13th of January I would start in their reception. And those five weeks I was supposed to stay, somehow turned into seven.

During my first week I mostly hung-out by myself searching for a kickboxing or boxingclub. During my first beer out on the town I tried real chili which made me cry and my first Nica Libre – which made me never look on rum and coke the same way again. The night before I trained my first volunteer, Keely, Nica Libre took the best of me. It still had me in it’s grip during the training until the afternoon. I guess I made a pretty interesting first impression on the poor girl.

Three weeks later we’ve had some of the old volunteers going and new ones coming, making a new part of the Sonati family. I had started Spanish classes which didn’t only learn me more Spanish but also where I could find a boxing club. The cleaning lady Flor started a few salsa lessons with Selena in the speakers after lunch time. Making everyone ready for one or two salsa nights. It was all starting to fall into place.

Time really flies when you are having fun and soon I had to start preparing for a goodbye-dinner and moving on. The last weekend in Leon wasn’t even spent in Leon, but in San Juan del Sur and Playa Hermosa where we camped for a surf/music-festival. Together with my favorite people from Sonati we spent two nights in tents on the beach, with potato cooking by the open fire and emptying bottle after bottle of rum. Actually, a festival on the other side of the world isn't that much different from the ones I've been to in Sweden, just a lot warmer.

It was with a clouded mind and a heavy heart I left Sonati and Leon. I have hiked up volcanoes, shaked ass at clubs with beer for $1, floated through the mangroves, bargained at the open markets, been to poetry nights, went boxing with only locals, layed on the roof watching the full moon and stars and I have met some truly awesome people. If I was to do it all again, I wouldn't do anything different - even though I never got to visit that cinema.


Kommentarer (4)

Senaste inläggen

Kategorier

Arkiv

Prenumerera och dela