I always feel empty inside when returning from an intense experience. I was sad to leave Guatemala.
Yes, we left the country for a week. Anton went to Argentina to meet up with his girlfriend, I went to Guatemala. I knew absolutely nothing about Guatemala. And I had never really traveled on my own before. But I would not be lonely. In Antigua, I stayed with Cynthia, a Guatemalan restaurant manager chick, who at the same time hosted German coffee expert Thomas, British DJ Adam, and American teacher Ben. The five of us became what Guatemalans for a long time will remember as The Gang. Antigua is a cute little town full of life. The Gang was invited to have a barbecue at Priscilla’s porch, so we went to the market to buy what we needed: prawns, chicken, avocados, peppers, pineapples, bananas, mangoes, garlic and lemons. All obviously locally produced, and ours for a couple of bucks. Also, to Priscilla’s surprise, we bought a live rooster, who she now keeps as her pet.
There are active volcanoes in Guatemala, and I and Adam decided we’d go climb one. It was actually really cool. At the top, all forces of nature tried to tell us: guys, you’re not supposed to be here. There was fog and thunder and lightning (that once even struck the very mountain top we were on), and of course there was the lava. And then the rain started pouring and I was soaked within minutes. And then Adam slipped on the magma gravel and cut his hand pretty deep. There we stood, trying to tie a piece of cloth around his hand, while nature roared. The only good thing was that as long as we were close to the lava, we were warm. But of course, as we started to climb down, it got really, really cold.
The two-day trip that I, Adam and Thomas made to lake Atitlan, was far more comfortable. On arrival, we had lunch at restaurant Buddha in San Pedro, which might be the most relaxed place on earth. Big sofas on the second floor, overlooking the mountain lake and its surrounding green and lush volcanoes. After lunch, we just chilled and had a couple of beers, until it was time for dinner. We ended up staying until they closed, all the time comfortably horizontal.
On a trip around the lake, Thomas taught us all thee is to know about coffee, which grows abundantly in the region. Back in Antigua, it was time to say good-bye to all these fantastic people and wonderful places. The car was waiting for me at the Dallas international airport, and I must admit that it felt as if I had not seen that car for months.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Monday, May 21, 2007
Sick in Ghost town
What strikes me more and more about the US is that there is nothing here. And the things that are, are all the same everywhere: McDonald’s, KFC, Dunkin' Donuts and Wal-Mart. Host Mark told us that there were so many things around in Panama City, but we didn’t believe him. And we were right. The city was dead. Not only is there no cafés, restaurants or stores, there are no people. The towns are empty. Anyhow, through Mark, we finally met some nice people and had a good time.
In Pensacola Beach, we took in to the fanciest hotel so far. To little use for me, it would turn out. I got sick, and just stayed in bed all the time.
New Orleans, as opposed to Panama City and most other cities here, is very European. European is good. European means diverse and lively. Here, there are stores, cafés and restaurants (which still mostly serve deep-fried grease with gravy), and people out in the streets. And of course bars with live music. We went on a swamp tour, where we saw some alligators, and we went to the Laura Plantations, which is some sort of historic site where the Creoles used to grow sugar. Not being big fans of historic sites, the plantations exceeded our expectations. Probably mostly due to the guide who knew the secrets of storytelling. Some days of jazz and Creole history later, we set off for a new part of our trip: Texas.
In Pensacola Beach, we took in to the fanciest hotel so far. To little use for me, it would turn out. I got sick, and just stayed in bed all the time.
New Orleans, as opposed to Panama City and most other cities here, is very European. European is good. European means diverse and lively. Here, there are stores, cafés and restaurants (which still mostly serve deep-fried grease with gravy), and people out in the streets. And of course bars with live music. We went on a swamp tour, where we saw some alligators, and we went to the Laura Plantations, which is some sort of historic site where the Creoles used to grow sugar. Not being big fans of historic sites, the plantations exceeded our expectations. Probably mostly due to the guide who knew the secrets of storytelling. Some days of jazz and Creole history later, we set off for a new part of our trip: Texas.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Just another week in the south
I had this romantic idea of our car breaking down somewhere in the desert, forcing us to walk for miles and miles, until we ran out of water. Well, the car broke down at a big parking lot outside a Wal-Mart. The ride with the tower was a good experience though. He was a big Nice Inch Nails fan, and I got to hear the latest album at a freakishly high volume.
This was yesterday. A week ago or so, we stayed in a house in midtown Memphis. We never really understood who lived in this house. It was some sort of art hippie vegan community type thing, where people just seemed to come and go. You know the type: drawings and poetry on the walls, some old wheelchair as improvised furniture, some old sofa from a dumpster out on the porch. We brought bourbon and nachos, and so we were much welcomed. Also, we installed a shower and ripped out the floor from a room where a new guy was to live together with a bunch of robots. He was a robotics artist hoping to get to Hollywood working with robotic special effects.
In Alabama, we stayed with Curt and Salina. Both of them being white water freaks, we went for a two day trip to the Appalachians. Day one was white water kayaking, day two was rafting. Kayaking is really lots cooler than rafting. Rafting, as our guide put it, is like running down the stream in a Cadillac.
After a night with the mechanics, the car works fine now, and it took us down to Panama City, Florida, with no problems. Although we did get stopped by the police, who thought that we were drug dealers and interrogated us for 15 minutes. Fortunately, we're not drug dealers, so we finally got out of it.
This was yesterday. A week ago or so, we stayed in a house in midtown Memphis. We never really understood who lived in this house. It was some sort of art hippie vegan community type thing, where people just seemed to come and go. You know the type: drawings and poetry on the walls, some old wheelchair as improvised furniture, some old sofa from a dumpster out on the porch. We brought bourbon and nachos, and so we were much welcomed. Also, we installed a shower and ripped out the floor from a room where a new guy was to live together with a bunch of robots. He was a robotics artist hoping to get to Hollywood working with robotic special effects.
In Alabama, we stayed with Curt and Salina. Both of them being white water freaks, we went for a two day trip to the Appalachians. Day one was white water kayaking, day two was rafting. Kayaking is really lots cooler than rafting. Rafting, as our guide put it, is like running down the stream in a Cadillac.
After a night with the mechanics, the car works fine now, and it took us down to Panama City, Florida, with no problems. Although we did get stopped by the police, who thought that we were drug dealers and interrogated us for 15 minutes. Fortunately, we're not drug dealers, so we finally got out of it.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Crazy days
St Louis was two days loaded with experience. Hannah had a tiny dirty apartment, and no less than four guests: her boyfriend, an Australian couchsurfer, and us. Our queen size air mattress came in handy. And took up the entire floor. With Hannah, there was non-stop action. She took us to a dodgy bar god knows where, where we ended up having the best time with her and her many, many friends all night long.
Odd enough for an Aussie, Will was a big baseball fan. So we tagged along to the Chicago Cubs vs St Louis Cardinals game that he was supposed to see with some girl. Me and Anton bought a pair of tickets. Obviously, we had no clue as to the rules and tactics of this all American sport. Luckily, two or three parties of people around us engaged greatly in explaining it all. Again, we had made new friends. And so had they: apparently the joint task of explaining baseball to Swedes overshadowed the rivalry between Cubs and Cardinals fans. We all went out for drinks, and met Al Hrabosky, aka The Mad Hungarian. We had no clue who he was, but as Cardinals fan Matt put it: this for us is what it would be for you to meet Péle. I even got to touch his World Series ring. Yes, he was actually wearing it. As for Aussie-boy Will, that girl never showed up so he never even saw the game.
The following days were not as eventful, and more traditionally touristy. Lousville, Kentucky, was an interesting experience. We came at night, stayed at a creepy motel where we thought we would be killed, and left early in the morning. Without knowing our general direction for the day, we went for a short tour in the Mammoth Caves and to the Jim Beam distillery. This Sunday, however, we could not do the presumably nicest part of the distillery tour – the tasting of bourbons. Illegal, on Sundays. Sweden flashback.
Nashville, Tennessee, the home of country music. Here, there are bars that have live music acts every day. And nothing else. Lucky for us, this is the best motel so far. We’re enjoying the pool, the clean sheets, and the lack of old coke cans and used napkins under our beds.
Odd enough for an Aussie, Will was a big baseball fan. So we tagged along to the Chicago Cubs vs St Louis Cardinals game that he was supposed to see with some girl. Me and Anton bought a pair of tickets. Obviously, we had no clue as to the rules and tactics of this all American sport. Luckily, two or three parties of people around us engaged greatly in explaining it all. Again, we had made new friends. And so had they: apparently the joint task of explaining baseball to Swedes overshadowed the rivalry between Cubs and Cardinals fans. We all went out for drinks, and met Al Hrabosky, aka The Mad Hungarian. We had no clue who he was, but as Cardinals fan Matt put it: this for us is what it would be for you to meet Péle. I even got to touch his World Series ring. Yes, he was actually wearing it. As for Aussie-boy Will, that girl never showed up so he never even saw the game.
The following days were not as eventful, and more traditionally touristy. Lousville, Kentucky, was an interesting experience. We came at night, stayed at a creepy motel where we thought we would be killed, and left early in the morning. Without knowing our general direction for the day, we went for a short tour in the Mammoth Caves and to the Jim Beam distillery. This Sunday, however, we could not do the presumably nicest part of the distillery tour – the tasting of bourbons. Illegal, on Sundays. Sweden flashback.
Nashville, Tennessee, the home of country music. Here, there are bars that have live music acts every day. And nothing else. Lucky for us, this is the best motel so far. We’re enjoying the pool, the clean sheets, and the lack of old coke cans and used napkins under our beds.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Champaign
After Chicago, our plan was to go to the small town of Springfield, Illinois. We were advised not to. Instead, we should go to Champaign, where there is actually stuff to do. That we did. And this place is just great! This is a college town. Fifty per cent or so, out of a population of around 100000 people, are students. The town is a big campus, or the campus is a small town. There are young, fun-loving, good-looking people all around. The bars are packed on a Tuesday night. The beers are a dollar each. Except for the studying, it’s like being a college student all over.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Canada horror
Lately, our couchsurfing experiences have not been the best. Or maybe it’s just Canada. Having lots and lots of time, and little planning, it seemed no less than reasonable to take a trip to Montreal. Upon arrival it turned out that our hostess found it to be the weirdest thing she had ever experienced. Why on earth would anybody want to come to Montreal? She discussed the matter thoroughly with her 20 year old son, who pointed out the obvious: either these guys are gay, or they are just in to porn extravaganza. As it turns out, Montreal is the Tijuana of the North. After the mandatory drag show, we finally somehow managed to talk ourselves out of going to some strip joints. As soon as we could, we headed on for Toronto.
Waiting for us in Toronto was an e-mail from our new couchsurfing hostess, asking us to wait another day before coming to her place. Apparently, she had an important day in court. Whether she worked as a lawyer, or she was accused of something, we never found out. We never even met her. She just disappeared from the face of the earth. Hope she’s ok. Instead, we embarged on the journey from hell.
Have you ever wondered what’s in Buffalo? I can tell you there is absolutely nothing in Buffalo. After having looked for lodging for some two hours, we finally found a motel. The only problem, though, was that it was being torn down. So we decided on the good-old 4 am out-in-the-street morning gymnastics, after which we stepped on it and went as far as the road would take us before it made sense to check in to a motel for the next night. 7.30, a cheerful Motel 6 clerk checked us in 30 miles east of Cleveland. In this little undiscovered haven, we had the nicest three or four days you could imagine. Here, we pimped our ride with a Hello Kitty steering wheel cover, which made the next part of our journey happy and gay. We had to leave, because for once, we actually had a deadline. Nobody was surprised that we had tickets to Christina Aguilera in Chicago.
You might also want to check out Anton’s blog. He’s even got a little map there, showing how we’re travelling. And some pictures. Here’s the link: http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog/hmmma/us_road_trip_07/tpod.html
Waiting for us in Toronto was an e-mail from our new couchsurfing hostess, asking us to wait another day before coming to her place. Apparently, she had an important day in court. Whether she worked as a lawyer, or she was accused of something, we never found out. We never even met her. She just disappeared from the face of the earth. Hope she’s ok. Instead, we embarged on the journey from hell.
Have you ever wondered what’s in Buffalo? I can tell you there is absolutely nothing in Buffalo. After having looked for lodging for some two hours, we finally found a motel. The only problem, though, was that it was being torn down. So we decided on the good-old 4 am out-in-the-street morning gymnastics, after which we stepped on it and went as far as the road would take us before it made sense to check in to a motel for the next night. 7.30, a cheerful Motel 6 clerk checked us in 30 miles east of Cleveland. In this little undiscovered haven, we had the nicest three or four days you could imagine. Here, we pimped our ride with a Hello Kitty steering wheel cover, which made the next part of our journey happy and gay. We had to leave, because for once, we actually had a deadline. Nobody was surprised that we had tickets to Christina Aguilera in Chicago.
You might also want to check out Anton’s blog. He’s even got a little map there, showing how we’re travelling. And some pictures. Here’s the link: http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog/hmmma/us_road_trip_07/tpod.html
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Technotravel
Travelling is tiring. We’re exhausted. It’s funny how vacation somehow can be more exhausting than everyday work. I guess it is because of lack of routines, it’s all new impressions. We live out of our suitcases, so we’re never as relaxed as you are when you get home, change, turn on the TV and open that carton of take-away pizza. And even though it seems like not much work, it takes some energy to plan the basics; where to go, what to eat, where to sleep. Anyhow – it’s lots of fun.
We left our Manhattan couchsurfing (www.couchsurfing.com) hosts Steve and Bill (who by the way were just the most generous, relaxed and fun imaginable), and went to get the car we bought. It’s a little smaller than we thought, and it’s green instead of black. But Ernst, the German car salesman, says it’s the same car as the picture. We decided to believe Ernst. Free as birds, we headed north for Maine – the state of lighthouses and lobsters.
We had no trouble finding 214 Bog Hill Road, where Jack and Marcia, old friends of me and my family, lives. Partly, I guess, because of the brand new GPS we bought somewhere in New Hampshire. Why did we not even think of getting one of those? Preloaded with US maps, it was ours for the facile price of $260. This is becoming such a technotrip. The front seat of our car doesn’t look very different from the cockpit of a space shuttle. We’ve got 2 laptops, 2 cell phones, an external harddrive, an mp3 player with an FM transmitter, a GPS, and an whole bunch of adapters and chords to hook this all up to the little lighter thingy of the car. It feels silly, in a way. Here we’re out to explore the world, and we have all this machinery sort of doing it for us, along with making it seemingly pointless to have left home at all. But as the old-fashioned way certainly has its charm, inventions bring new possibilities.
At Jack and Marcia’s, little has changed. The house is the same, the cows are the same (well, I guess they have replaced the cows with newer cows since I was here 15 years ago), and Jack and Marcia are the same. Still amazingly hospitable, funny and friendly.
Taking a vacation from out vacation, we’re now up in northern Maine, near the Canadian border, snowboarding. It’s a first for Anton, who sits beside me in agony. I myself am pretty tired too. So much for relaxation.
We left our Manhattan couchsurfing (www.couchsurfing.com) hosts Steve and Bill (who by the way were just the most generous, relaxed and fun imaginable), and went to get the car we bought. It’s a little smaller than we thought, and it’s green instead of black. But Ernst, the German car salesman, says it’s the same car as the picture. We decided to believe Ernst. Free as birds, we headed north for Maine – the state of lighthouses and lobsters.
We had no trouble finding 214 Bog Hill Road, where Jack and Marcia, old friends of me and my family, lives. Partly, I guess, because of the brand new GPS we bought somewhere in New Hampshire. Why did we not even think of getting one of those? Preloaded with US maps, it was ours for the facile price of $260. This is becoming such a technotrip. The front seat of our car doesn’t look very different from the cockpit of a space shuttle. We’ve got 2 laptops, 2 cell phones, an external harddrive, an mp3 player with an FM transmitter, a GPS, and an whole bunch of adapters and chords to hook this all up to the little lighter thingy of the car. It feels silly, in a way. Here we’re out to explore the world, and we have all this machinery sort of doing it for us, along with making it seemingly pointless to have left home at all. But as the old-fashioned way certainly has its charm, inventions bring new possibilities.
At Jack and Marcia’s, little has changed. The house is the same, the cows are the same (well, I guess they have replaced the cows with newer cows since I was here 15 years ago), and Jack and Marcia are the same. Still amazingly hospitable, funny and friendly.
Taking a vacation from out vacation, we’re now up in northern Maine, near the Canadian border, snowboarding. It’s a first for Anton, who sits beside me in agony. I myself am pretty tired too. So much for relaxation.
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