The biggest decision to make was whether to take the 8 day hike in the Cordillera Huayash or the 4 day hike through the Cordillera Blanca. Being as our schedule was a little tight and our lungs barely acclimated to the high mountain air, we elected for the 4 day trip called the Santa Cruz trail. These four days would turn out to be some of the most magical days of the entire trip.

It is well know that the Incans worshipped the highest peaks in the Andes as gods. The made sacrifices of animals and sometimes humans, which were presented as gifts to the mountains. To this day many people blow on coca leaves before eating them, as a sort of offer to the mystical mountains of the Andes. All of this may seem quite foolish, but as is often the case, you have walk a mile in a mans moccasins, to really understand his point of view.

We started the trek at approximately 3,500 (11,375 feet) meters above sea level and hiked a steady four hours to our first camp site at 3,800 meters. On this hike you are immediately impacted by your surroundings as the skyline is full of sharp snow capped peaks gently exposed by the passing clouds. The first night was brightly illuminated by a 3/4 moon reflected off of the crisp white snow all around us. The reality of sleeping through this cold night was a different story, but something you just have to get used to. Our guide woke us up bight and early for a cup' of mate de coca, or coca leaf tea that is commonly believed to energize hikers and help combat altitude sickness.

The second day we would do the majority of the climbing. It was a hard 9 hour hike culminating at mountain pass called Punto Union. The pass is 4750 meters (15,500 ft) above sea level. The view from that altitude combined with the thin air leaves anyone speechless. Which, in my opinion, is exactly how it should be. It is exactly the type of place that leaves you feeling so insignificant, that you instinctively remain silent.

It becomes easy to understand why the natives in their primitive way had so much respect for the mighty peaks of the Andes. These snow capped peaks slowly melt during the afternoon sun to feed a number of high mountain lakes of deep turquoise and crystal blue water. As the water level rises the lakes begin to overflow, enormous waterfalls are created from all sides of the mountain. These waterfalls form the rivers that eventually distribute the life form to the thousands of square acres that surround them. All of this is visible as you begin the descent into the valley. Plant and animal life begin to decorate the landscape, trees and bushes are able to prosper here. The ground has a spongy soft feel as if it had recently been covered by the overflowing water. And this is the good fortune that the Santa Cruz valley receives from the kindness of the giants that guard it.

But the mountains are not always kind to the inhabitants of the Cordillera Blanca. Avalanches and enormous rockslides are common in this territory, and often create barriers along the very trails we were hiking. And the seemingly tranquil glacier lakes represent the most pressing danger. As the earth begins to warm the delicate ice walls of the lakes are starting to deteriorate. In 1970 this danger was illustrated when and earthquake in the valley caused enormous avalanches and destroyed the lakes’ retaining walls. This created a devastating combination. The rapidly falling water from the lakes melted the snow and accumulated into a large amount of land mass that came pouring down the mountainside. The result was tens of thousands of deaths and a virtually destroyed landscape.

The Incans and Pre-Incans obviously experienced both sides of this delicate balance of give and take with their providers. Thus worshiping them as their gods, not only for the life that they provide them, but the imminent danger that they represent. Having spent only four days walking through their terrain, I have developed a new respect for the sensitivity of the ecosystem that supports life in the area. Unfortunately all of the blowing of coca leaves in the world wont slow down the inevitable effects that global warming and man made environmental changes are having on this fragile ecosystem.

The third day of the hike we set out for the glacier lake situated near the base of Alpamayo. Alpamayo was voted the most beautiful mountain in the world in the 1940s, and justifiably so. Unfortunately the cloud cover would make it very difficult to see the magnificent snow capped peak of this mountain that reaches 19,500 ft in altitude. The lake was a rich turquoise blue and set at an altitude of 14,500 ft above sea level. The biggest entertainment came from a Swiss traveler, Mathias, who just couldn’t resist the urge to take a swim. We all stood around the lake, bundled in jackets, gloves and scarves to watch Mathias take the plunge .

The rest of the hike would be through the Valley of Santa Cruz. The valley has two very large lakes and is line with jagged rocky snow covered mountains. Waterfalls are so frequent that they begin to blend into the scenery. Wild horses , mules, goats , and cows can be seen grazing throughout the valley. The ground is so wet that you have check your footing, or you may just sink in! The last think you want is to wake in the morning to frozen wet boots at sub zero temps. The changes had been extraordinary over the 4 day span. We had gradually climbed our way into the silent solidarity of the Cordillera Blanca, where few organisms are able to survive. Later we descended through the rich environment of the Santa Cruz Valley now plush with plant and animal life. If anyone in Peru wants to meet their maker, according to the Incas, this is where they would need to go. Our guide told us that in 7 years he had never taken a Peruvian on this journey, and that most didn’t know it existed. A sad reality, but blatantly evident through the lack of respect or concern that most Peruvians have for their natural habitat.

At the end of the trip we had hiked 48 km (30 miles) in little more than three days, and climbed from 3500 to 4750 meters above sea level, then descended back down to about 3300 to the end of the trail. For me it was clearly the experience of my time in Peru. If I had it to do over again I would have stayed the extra two weeks and hiked the Cordillera Huayash instead of heading to much more popular southern part of the country.

Huaraz and the Cordillera Blanca remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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But that was enough for sunny beaches. It was time to head off for another brutually long journey top the Cordillera Blanca (White Mountian Range) in the heart of the Andes.

Peru remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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After San Cristobal we went to Floreana Island. We walked around the island observing enormous land and sea iguanas, and later a natural spring which provides the drinking water for the Island. Situated in the highlands are old ruins of pirate caves and dwelling of the first settlers of the Island.

Leaving Floreana we headed for Isabella Island to spend the night. We arrived just in time to see the magnificent sunset along the west coast of the island.

Isabella is the largest island and consist of 5 Volcanoes. The following morning we took a journey on horseback to see the largest volcanic crater in the world.

Later we hiked along the surface of the volcanic lava observing the beginnings of life form, cactus and small plants growing through what looks like the surface of the moon. You can see different colors of lava representing different eruptions, craters formed by bubbling lava and hot air trapped underneath. There are also many lava tunnels which are formed from the air rushing underneath the lava as it flows to the sea. The view from the highest point is one of the most incredible things I have ever seen.

The following day we off to visit another turtle creation center where we able to interact a little with the turtles. Feeding the large turtles and picking up the small ones. Holding a baby giant turtle in your hands is impressive when you think that this little creature will actually go on to live about 3 times your life span. Leaving the creation center we hiked through a mangrove area to see the famous Galapagos flamingos, and of course more land iguanas.

Leaving the Island by boat we got an excellent view of the blue footed bobby. A spectacular looking bird with bright blue feet, endemic of course to the Galapagos.

In Santa Cruz we would pass the remaining three nights of the tour. A visit to the Charles Darwin center we saw another Giant Turtle named Lonesome George.

He is the last of his species and they have been searching for over 20 years for a mate. So far no luck, they estimate his age to be around 200. We also got an opportunioty to visit the protected area where the turtles are introduced into the wild. They look amazing roaming around in their natural habitat.

By far the most beautiful island in terms of classic island qualities is Bartalome. The combination of white sand and golden sand beaches, volcanic rock and craters, and crystal blue bays blending into the turquoise ocean. It is from here that the classic propaganda photo is taken, I didn't mind taking one myself.


The Galapagos Islands give a person a new respect for the world. As the Earths ocean plates shift the islands are moving over hot spots they create volcanic eruptions. Over time these volcanic rock bases begin to break down into surfaces suitable for plant and animal life to survive. The birds of the Galapagos have evolved beak's to be able to penetrate the rough surface in search of food. And the reptiles turtles etc.. to survive extended periods without food or water. There is nothing more substantial to give you an idea how many parts of this planet may have looked millions of years ago. They are some of the youngest parts of land in the world, and they date back millions of years. Sorry George Bush, but knowing this doesn't bode well for your insistence of teaching creationism to the youngsters of our country. Perhaps leaving the country a bit, would´ve done you some good. I know it did for me.

The experience of the trip???
My second opportunity to snorkel with the sea lions. We were swimming along when I encountered two extremely playful sea lions. The swam up to withing inches of my body and spiraled around diving down blowing out air bubbles along the way, I mimicked their tricks and they showed me new ones. Ive yet to see the photos because I had to buy a disposable underwater camera, but I cant wait to see them. It certainly makes swimming in a caged pool with the dolphins seem a little cheap when you do it in the wild
The sea lions are definately the most friendly animals, and the stars of the show in the Galapagos

The Galápagos Islands remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The easy way to start is to say that crossing the border into Ecuador, suddenly everything changed. It was not just a difference of culture or landscape, but also a change in perception. Brenda was required to get a tourist visa for Ecuador, which limited our time to only thirty days. The lazy schedule of Colombia now out the window we would start traveling at an almost touristy pace.

Unfortunately the security of my belongings would also come into play as we would be robbed twice in a little more than a week. The most painful was my memory chip which stored all of my photos from the last 8 months of travel. That was actually stolen from an Internet cafe as I was writing my last blog entry.

Our trip in Ecuador started in a town called Otavalo. A small town in the foothills of the Andes, it was the perfect place to start. Saturday mornings in Otavalo the whole town turns into a fair, and the local people fill the streets dressed in traditional Otavaleño clothing. The women wear long cashmere skirts hemmed with traditional designs and white blouses embroidered by hand with designs of flowers, vines, etc.. They also wrap a cloth around their backs which is usually occupied to carry their children, hens, or a 100lb bag of potatoes..no kidding. When not doubled over carrying an enormous load the outfit is very appealing and accented with a lot of neck and wrist jewelry. The men (but who cares about them right?) dress in linen pants and shirts with a small car and always have along braid.

We stayed for three days with and Otavaleñan family and had a wonderful experience. They still live in a very humble environment, grow all of their own feed and participate in local community projects as their ancestors have one in that community for thousands of years. If someone is building a house, everyone helps. Likewise with community farms etc.. I had some amazing photos of all of this, but you`ll just have to use your imaginations.

Laving Otavalo we headed for Quito to arrange our Galapagos trip. The night we arrived Ecuador was playing a soccer match against Brazil. We got into Quito in time to catch the match in a local bar which fell desperately silent as Ecuador was throttled 5-0. Late wandering around the center we stumbled upon a live outdoor theater and dance performance. It was a collaboration of several different countries and consisted of dancers hoisted by cable lines gliding from rooftop to rooftop which an amazing light show and live music. It was quite simply one of the most spectacular outdoor performances I have ever seen, and free to kick of the international theater and dance festival in Quito. Not bad for an opening night.

Quito turned out to be a cultural city with all of the things you enjoy and hate about a big city. Not surprisingly it would never duplicate the magic of the first night, not that I expected it to. We did take advantage of the opportunity to eat wonderful international cuisine, a warm welcome after literally two months of pot luck.

After a round trip flight to the islands then back to Quito we headed south to town called Baños. For those of you practicing elementary Spanish, your probably laughing to yourselves about a town called bathrooms, but it actually means baths. It is home to several thermal hot spring, and rest in a valley surrounded by mountains, volcano's, and over 65 waterfalls. One day we decided to rent an ATV an head along he trail of the 12 waterfalls. It was a spectacular trip and culminated with a great hike and my first opportunity to swim and bathe in the waterfalls of fresh mountain water in years.
From the viewpoint in Baños

Leaving Baños we had big plans to take the famous nose of the devil train ride, but tit was sold out when we arrived and we had to keep on moving. We took a similar route in bus which provided spectacular views of the Volcano Chimborazo at 6100 meters the highest peak in Ecuador. We traveled all day and arrived at the picturesque arquelogical site of Ingapirca. Unfprtunately the whole town had lost power that night, we used candles and got by. The next day visiting the ruins was spectactular. Here are some shots

Cuenca is in my opinion the most beautiful city in Ecuador, with a peaceful and tastefully designed historic center, as well as a river that divides the old and the new. There is all of the usual fanfare, but we decided to take it easy and relax for a few days. The end of our Ecuador experience would be spent in a place called Vilcabamba.

Vilcabamba is the very south of Ecuador and on the edge of the rainforest and the Andes mountain range. The people of Vilcabamba are famed for living for more than 100 years and taking advantage of the healing waters and exceptional climate. Ironic as it would be, we would experience some of biggest weather difficulties in Vilcabamba. We took an 8 hour hiking, horseback, and canopy tour in the cloud forest. The day started exceptionally with fantastic views of the surrounding valleys as our horses navigated the edges of the mountainsides along steep inclines. Arriving at the nature reserve, we started our hike through the cloud forest. The hike was difficult and filled with muddy steep down hills, complicated by the rain that started to fall. By the time we arrived at the zip lines it was an all out downpour. The hike back was a struggle with just about everyone sliding everywhere and and a 20 river crossing over a tree trunk now soaked and slippery.

The return would be equally difficult as the rain continued to fall and the path was now too slippery to navigate on horseback. Our guide told us the contrary, but while crossing a relatively flat pass my horse slid two legs over the ledge and fell to thew ground. Naturally he started to buck like crazy, thinking he was falling over the mountainside. I was fortunate to free me feet from the stirrups and jump off as he was trying to throw me. Needless to say it was enough of a scare that we all walked the rest of the way pulling our horses along. Scary in itself when you imagine pulling a horse down a hiking trail covered in steep rocking downhills, slippery as hell. More than a few times we had to jump off the trails as the horses slid out of control towards us.

Finally after 10 tough ours we arrived back at the lodge. Just time enough to bathe, change into dry clothes and head to the bus station for an overnight bus into Peru. Anyway that was our farewell to Ecuador. More or less a disaster as far as the mainland was concerned, but that is what happens when you rush things.

Ecuador remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The city of Popayan was our first destination in the south, having skipped the famous party city of Cali. Popayan is an attractive city, but the downtown is similar to just about every Colombian town. The whole town is whitewashed, and has a definite sterile appearance. There isn’t a ton to do, but it serves as a good launching point to the famous destinations of Tierradentro and San Agustin. For many years the territory of San Agustin has been occupied by paramilitary groups, and has suffered as a result. The government has invested a surprising small sum into the development of the territory, and the highway is the worst part.

The trek to San Agustin from Popayan is about 70 miles but takes all of 6 and a half hours. The road is completely unpaved and in desperate condition. I was lucky enough to get the last seat on the bus of the last departure of the day. The trunk of the minibus, now full of potatoes and food goods, didn`t offer space for my backpack. This meant that it would have to ride in my lap. Not so uncommon as the passengers to either side of me also had their children in their laps. If you can help it is best not to sit in the back of the bus on a ride like this, because it is basically like sitting in the back of a rollercoaster. Every bump and dip is exaggerated about 3 fold. Needless to say I was happy to arrive and leave that whole experience behind me.

Fortunately, waiting in San Agustin was the most comfortable hostel I have ever visited. The owner is Swiss (Rene)and his wife (Paloma) Colombian/Italian. The whole place is based around ecotourism and situated on an organic farm. The rooms were both palapa style huts and bamboo cabins. Paloma makes a mean curry, a very welcome flavor after months of unseasoned meat and potatoes. The scenery in San Agustin is amazing and the views are spectacular from every angle. The hostel is called El Maco, if your ever in San Agustin.

A visit to the archaeological park shows an exhibit of one of the lost cultures of Colombia. The are large stone sculptures which are tombs of a former Indian tribe about 3000 years ago. Little is now about, what became of them, or the significance of their sculptures. Information has been extrapolated through anthologist studies of other tribes in the area. All guess work as far as I’m concerned. None the less, a fascinating tour and worthwhile afternoon.

The following day we headed out on a horseback tour of the valley. I had never been horseback riding before, and 4 hours was probably a bit much. The trip took us into the spectacular canyon of Chaquira, and through farmer’s trails to see other tomb sites. It was an excellent combination of natural beauty, archaeological mystery, and extreme fun. The horses were well trained, and knew exactly where to go, when to gallop, and when to trot. My horse had a bit of a complex (probably for being the smallest) and always wanted to be at the front of the pack. Honestly there a few things more fun than riding a horse in full gallop when he takes a sharp turn. With 7 horses behind you, you know your toast if you don’t hang on. After a few days of recuperation, I was ready to get moving again. Knowing we had a rough ride back made it easier to stay and relax a few more days at El Maco, but eventually we had to bid a sad farewell.

In the Chaquira canyon there are stone carvings that are perfectly illuminated at sunrise on one side, and sunset everyday

Before crossing the border to Ecuador, a quick trip to Las Lajas is well worth the time. This is a small cathedral built into the walls of a canyon. The altar is actually constructed from the stone face of the canyon wall. There is waterfall shooting out from the left side, and a base that rises easily 50 feet bridging the river and providing the foundation. The church is known for having delivered in more request for miracles than any other church in Colombia. Along the walk down the walls are lined with plaques and thanks for miracles received. There must be at least two thousand of them. Not sure I buy into all of that, but it is definitely and impressive site, and a beautiful last glimpse at the spectacular Colombian vistas.

All in all it was a spectacular two months in Colombia, and we crossed the border with just a few days to spare. As always I`m about 10 days behind in publishing this blog, if you want to see where I am today check out the map below. In two days I`ll be off to the Galapagos Islands which will slow probably keep me from updating for the next two weeks.

Colombia San Agustin and the South remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The Coffee region remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Medellin and moving south remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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This is probably a good time to talk about that. I always thought Mexico was inexpensive but it can’t hold a candle to Colombia. Most hostels in Colombia charge between 10 and 15,000 pesos per night, or 5 to 7 dollars. They are usually clean and nice, and have free Colombian coffee all day. A good meal is between 4 and 6,000 pesos, or 2 to 3 dollars. Beers go for about 75 cents a pop, but are virtually undrinkable. The food leaves a bit to be desired as well, but is edible. They love to cook with tomatoes here, and apparently haven’t discovered condiments yet. The Colombian tortilla is called an "Arepa" and couldn’t have less flavour. Taking all of the above into consideration I was getting used to the Arepas, and the prices. After 6 months out of the country I don’t even think in terms of what things cost back home, just what they cost here.

For all of those reasons, Villa de Leyva left me shell shocked. The first restaurant I went to didn’t have a meal on the menu for less than 15,000. Dirt cheap in the states, but this is Colombia! My accommodation was double the price, and not much better than what I was used to. I have no reason to spend my time in tourist traps, especially when it’s not enjoyable. On my last afternoon in town I met a local guy named Oscar who is a biologist. He recommended me a couple of great hikes in the countryside that didn’t cost a dime.

The first hike we took was to the Perequeria falls. It is a series of 7 waterfalls on a trail that winds you down into the canyon. The trail is not extremely well marked which leads a lot of people to hire a guide. However, it is perfectly manageable solo. It was a bit too cold to take a swim, but when we made it down to the bottom I was thinking of a taking a dip anyway. From the last fall there is a series of about 400 steps that take you up to the rim of the canyon. From there you can hike back into town along the canyon rim worth views of the entire valley. Really a spectacular time and only cost the bus fare to get there.

Oscar has a mountain house a bit out of town where he rents rooms. We decided to stay a few extra days in his place, and do some more exploring. The following day we rented some mountain bikes and headed out to get to know our surroundings more. It easy to see why some many tourists are attracted to the area, because the surroundings are spectacular. Mountain views are everywhere, forest, jungle, waterfalls, and red rock cliffs line the panorama. We finished our day at the Muisca Indian arqueological park. The Muiscas erected stones in the park to help them observe astrological changes and to aid them to know when to plant and when to harvest. Behind that was a field of tall narrow tones that looked a lot like, well, male genitalia Brenda said I was just being childish, but low and behold there we were in a field of penises. The Muiscas decided to erect sculptures of male genitalia to help the fertilization of the land. Now these are my kind of people. Throwing gold into lakes and worshiping the male genitalia.
Here’s a shot of me contemplating .......

The following morning we headed from the back of Oscars place to another hour and half hike to the lookout. The hike takes you up to another fantastic panorama of the Colombian countryside. Sadly we readied our stuff and headed out from the town of San Gil. San Gil is famous for adventure tourism and boasts the best white water rafting in Colombia.
A shot of the view from the lookout

There are three forms of overland transport in Colombia. You have your first class bus, which takes you just about everywhere in comfort, but is slow. Then you have a collectivo or a minivan that zips through the country side passing everyone on two lane roads with nothing but blind corners. Needless to say you don’t go anywhere in comfort in on of those, but they get you there quick. The third is the "Chiva" which is a Colombian Tradition. They are usually used school buses from the US, painted all kinds of colors on the outside. They are commonly boarded by people travelling with chickens and hens, and take forever to get you anywhere. I usually prefer the colectivos, fast, cheap, dangerous, but usually pretty entertaining. The trip to San Gil was windy, and I got the drift when they gave us plastic bags upon boarding. After a pretty exciting trip we arrived safely into San Gil, dizzy but alive.

Brenda had never been rafting before and was definitely nervous about her first trip down the most dangerous river in Colombia. I on the hand have been several times and successfully convinced here that there was nothing to fear. The Suarez River is about a three hour trip of consecutive class 4 and 5 rapids. The likelihood that the boat will flip is 33%, and that someone will fall out is 100%. Fortunately this was all information I got from an English guide, and I decided not to share it with Brenda. The Spanish speaking rafting guide did divulge all of those stats before heading into the water which was just about enough to send her packing. Too embarrassed to go home, she stayed on.

This was by far the most exiting rafting trip I had ever been on, and also the most physically exhausting. Passing one of the most dangerous rapids (named the labyrinth for the maze of rocks you have navigate to get through safely) the guide shouted "everybody inside" as i slid into the boat a wave swept under me and washed me right out of the raft. Clutching my paddle and the cord on the raft for life, it was a series of waves splashing over my back and my body into jagged rocks before I was successfully back into the boat. The funny thing is that I was more concerned about loosing my shorts than anything else. After having lost about 15 pounds, my trunks don’t exactly fit snug anymore. As it turned out I was the only one to go in, and thus had to by beers for the whole boat when we got back. A small price to pay for the rescue, and an overall fantastic time.

Afterwards were were moving on the othe other side of the valley to the city of Medellin.

Don`t forget to check out the map to keep up with where we are now

It just keeps getting better remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The two weeks in Mexico were extremely relaxing, and I took advantage of the opportunity to go to the local market and buy all fresh meats and produce. I think I fell in love with that place when the butcher hand sliced the bacon right in front of me. It is the little things you start to miss, and I hadn’t had bacon in almost six months. Much less thick sliced! My stomach definitely thanked me for easing up on the picante, and enjoying a steady diet of fresh foods. The apartment I rented was in a laid back middle of the road type neighborhood. Needless to say I stick out like a sore thumb there. And I was quickly recognized by everyone in the local markets, cafes, etc... But after two weeks of that, I was ready to get moving.

We arrived at the airport all set to hop a plane to Lima. It occurred to me that I would rather start in Bogotá than Lima, and so the change was made on the spot and we went to Colombia instead. With all of the negative publicity that Colombia receives, I was definitely a bit nervous to arrive at 10 p.m. without reservations. All of that was quickly resolved in the airport however and off we went to our hotel. First impressions are everything and I was thoroughly impressed with Bogotá. I was expecting more of the same as what I have seen in capital cities of other Latin American countries but this was nowhere close. The city is extremely modern, and dare I say, safe? By Latin American standards that is. It definitely is not the prettiest city I’ve seen, but I was expecting far worse. Little to no street vendors, beggars, or fire eating acts at traffic lights. It seemed almost European, or Eastern European.
This is the Plaza Bolivar, and a young girl chasing the birds. I`d never seen so many birds, and I kind of wanted to do the same thing

The Sanctuary of Montserrat is a traditional church set on top of one of the many hills surrounding the city of Bogotá. Every Sunday there is a precession of thousands who climb the 500+ steps to the top, starting from sunrise until about noon. There is music being played, singing and chanting, and overall a pretty impressive sight to see. It was described to us a typical Sunday in Bogotá so I though we’d check it out. There is a cable car that takes you to the top, but we elected to walk up with everyone else then take the cable car down.
Here is a shot of the hillside

The most famous musem in Bogota is the Gold Museum, with over three floors of gold on display. On the third floor there is a circular room which has thousands of gold objects behind a glass wall. Once inside the lights go downd, and the gold is illuminated from behind creating a three dimesional view, and covering the whole room with a golden glow. As I would soon find out, gold is a major part of Colombian history and would play a major role in their relations with the Spanish.

After picking up a travel guide for Colombia we started forming out a rough itinerary. After Bogotá we headed north to a small town called Zipaquirà. Zipaquirà is famous for its salt mining and to this day exports more than 500 tons of salt daily. The biggest attraction is the salt cathedral which is a series of 14 salt sculptures is a non working section of the mine. The large cathedral is 180 meters below the mountain peek in the mine, and has a capacity of almost 3000. Almost everything is made out of salt, except for the occasional marble floors. Backlights are used to illuminate the dome ceilings and crosses. It is extremely impressive, and an interesting work even to those not of the Christian persuasion. You can only enter by guided tour which gives you a fantastic appreciation for the time and effort. All of the crosses were made by the miners, and some of them way as much as 4 tons.

While having dinner one bight in Bogotá the owners of the restaurant sat with us for three hours discussing the various things to do in Colombia. One of the things they said we had to do was go to the Laguna de Gautavita. This is a sacred lake to the Muisca Indians. The legend of El Dorado (the golden man) says that every so often the head of the tribe would take a boat out to the center of the lake and deposit a hand carved solid gold statue into the water. This ritual was practiced to help restore equilibrium in the universe and was considered a gift to the gods. The Muisca believed that when things started to go wrong in the world, it was because the world was falling out of equilibrium. Often times the head of the tribe would cover his body in gold dust and dive into the lake to offer himself to the gods, thus the legend of the Golden man. Needless to say the Spanish found out about this legend, and set out to recuperate the gold from the bottom.

The lake is unusual in the sense that it is not fed by any river or body of water. It is completely surrounded by hills on all sides. The first attempt by the Spanish was to cut into the hillside and drain the lake, that didn’t work, later teams of divers and excavators arrived from Europe, but still no dice. As it turns out the lake is fed by an underground current that devoured the heavy gold pieces almost as soon as they hit the bottom. This is a source of great pride for the Muisca Indians as only a few small pieces were ever recovered from their sacred lake. The guided hike around the lake was conducted by one of the Granddaughters of the Muisca Indians who did an amazing job describing the significance of the lake, the flora and fauna of the area, and the way of life of the Muiscas in modern times.

Colombia was impressing me more and more as we made or way north. The countryside was spectacular and the amount of organization in and preservation of natural parks, transportation, and tourism in general was unlike any I’d seen in Latin America. I was definitely beginning to question just about everything that I had heard about Colombia. All of those who don’t travel to Colombia for fear of propaganda (usually politically motivated), just leave the country a little less crowded and more preserved for the rest of us to enjoy.

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The trip to Tehuantepec was realatively uneventful as we wound through small villages and thick jungle for the better part of 5 hours. Upon arrival, I wandered through town to the only budget hotel I found in my guide book. The rooms were about $10 a night and were much more like prison cells than rooms. Concrete and block, the highlight was a tornado fan aimed directly at the bed to combat the 95 degree heat and humidity. After a quick look at the bathroom in the moring I decied that that was out, and headed into town to check out my options. The town luxury hotel was not much better, but did have a bathroom that was a bit cleaner.

The town itself was also lacking charm. The highlight is supposed to be the Zapotec culture, and the Zapotec women who wander the streets in their typical dresses, all hand made and colorful. There was a bit of that, but mostly you saw them riding on the back of the street taxis, which were mopeds with wooden platforms on the back where the passengers stand to be transported through town. The two major events in town were the upcoming political elections and the official town holiday of Santo Domingo. The official name of Tehauntepec is Santo Domingo de Tehuantepec. For this holiday all of the local towns women wear elegant Zapotec dresses, which are hand made and usually take the better part of 6 months to make. The cost of one of the dresses is about the equivalent of three months wages. The dresses are paid in monthly payments as they are being made and the patrons make regular visits to the seamstress to check the progress and make changes to the design. All of this for the opportunity to wear the dress to the big dinner at the town square. Here is a shot of my friend Erika in her dress.

I was all set to leave Tehauntepec when I met a friend in the city square. Victor is the owner of an English language school, and came over to make conversation. He invited me to come to his school the following day and make conversation with his students. Afterwards out for a beer, and to introduce me to his friends in town. This completely changed my perception of the town for the better. Victor offered me a hammock to sleep in his language school, and I took him up on in and stayed a few days more.

They say that long term travel can present a roller coaster ride of emotions if you let it. There will be times when you will loose yourself in the untamed freedom to go where you want whenever you want without recourse. Other times you’ll find yourself missing friends and family, or a bit homesick. Longing for your favorite meal, a long hot shower, or a soft comfortable bed. I felt pretty fortunate to have traveled the better part of 6 months without having slipped into the lowlands of the travelers blues. But unfortunately that was about to change.

Before arriving to Tehauntepec I had been battling what appeared to be food related stomach sicknesses. This is said to be normal, and part of your body’s natural adjustment to new food types, bacteria, etc.. But for me it was an off and on for about a month and a half. Unfortunately while staying a Victors school this all took a turn for the worse. After passing one of the most miserable couple of days of my life, I found myself longing for a home cooked meal, and a soft comfortable bed. I decied to head back to Mexico for a little recuperation before continuing on.

I had heard from Brenda that she wanted to travel with me, so I decided to return to the city, rent an apartment, cook my own meals, and just take it easy for two weeks before heading out. Sorry there are not more pictures of Tehauntepec, but there is really not much to photograph.

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Oaxaca is probably the most talked about state in the Mexican republic boasting lots of eco tourism more than 8 active and thriving indigenous communities, and best of all I would be arriving just in time for the famed Guelaguetza. The Guelagutza is a more than two hundred year old tradition of a gathering of all of the native communities of Oaxaca for a week of traditional food dance and arts and crafts. The idea is that the children of Oaxaca will never forget their hertiage and indigenous roots. Needless to say this all sounded fanatastic so I headed off to the bus to station solo, bought a ticket for a 6 hour journey and settled in for what promised to be an exicitig and eye opening adventure.

The 6 hour bus journey turned into 8, but I would have been happy if it had lasted longer. The last 5 hours where magnificent as the bus wound its way throught the varied vistas of the Sierra Norte mountain range. Its is almost impossible to describe the sense of peace I felt to finally be far seperated from the big cities, traffic noise, constant sounding of car alarms, police sirens etc.. and settling into the vast countryside of Mexico. I picked up a magazine at the bus station called " Mexico Desconocido" or the undiscovered or unknown Mexico. I read an article talking about a group of pueblos that had set up multiple day hiking trips at 3000 to 4000 meters through the Sierra Juarez. The only accomodations offered are rustic cabins, and the only restaurant are comedores, which are essentially dining rooms in a small house with nothing but the daily menu to choose from. As the bus was guiding me through cactus forest, rocky ledges and pine tree valleys, I decided that the hiking trip was a must.

Unfortunately my arrival in Oaxaca was tempered by a street riot that had taken place that day. The locals were protesting the commercialization of the Guelaguetza, and threating to block the entrance to the concert hall which they had successfully done the year before. Things got out hand as they often do here. The protesters were violently put down by the police, sparking random riots throughout town, gasoline was poured down the streets then lit on fire. This also led to the explosion of a city bus that was parked unoccupied. Needless to say my thoughts about the Guelaguetza were starting to chage, only to be further dampened by the fact that Ticketmaster were handling ticket sales. I was starting to agree that perhaps it was over commercialized. The ticket prices were the equivalent of about three days salary for the average Oaxacan further limiting participation from the local towns people. Not exactly the Mexican Cultural Experience I was looking for. Especially since the local indigenous community were apparently not behind it.

Travel in the Mexico during the rainy season usually means terencial downpours in the afternoons, and often times makes for some spectacular scenery. I spent my first five days in a small but friendly hostel making friends with other travelers from all around the world. Often times we just wandered the citiy streets looking for good food and a relaxing day. Each day terminated with a fabulous summer storm washing the streets and buildings clean and cooling the evening air. Here is a good shot of the afternoon sky in Oaxaca

I did manage to get early and take a trip to the near by ancient city ruins of Monte Alban. Monte Alban was the most important city during the Zapotec reign, and has been wonderfully preserved. Sitting high on the mountain top, it gives a wonderful panorama of the valley and the Sierra Juarez to the north.

After five days of exploring the town, I finally got my act together to head out to the Sierra Juarez. I arrived at the second class bus station chicken bus to head up to the mountains at 8 am only to find that it was standing room only. There were a couple of Dutch girls in the same predicament so we decided to put our pesos together and go by collectivo or pick up truck with benches in the back. When I arrived I settled into the comedor for a quick breakfast and set off for the two day hike. I was joined by two other Dutch travellers and two German travellers. We set off for a 5 hour hike that would bring us to the overlook of the valley at 400 meters. I was amazed that at that altitude there was still plently of greenery. That afternoon, about three hours into the hike it started to pour down rain. The rain finally stoped when we arrived back to the lodge. Just in time .........Now freeezing cold and wet we went directly to the cabin to get a fire going. Eric had a deck of cards and we spent the night drinking Mezcal, playing cards, and staying warm by the fire.
Definately the peaceful escape I was looking for and it didnt matter that it rained on us all day the following day as well.

The news was heavy with rumors of a potential demonstration to prevent the opening of the Guelaguetza. The strong left wing activitist group The Zapatistas had alledgedly come from Chiapas to support the Oaxacans. For these reasons amd a few personal resrvations I decided not to stay for the Guelaguetza, instead I headed down to a small beach town called Mazunte. I hopped into a small mini van and again enjoyed another magical trip through the Oaxacan mountains to the coast. Mazunte was exactly as I hoped it would be. Nothing but small cabin style palapas, hammocks for rent on the beach and a real laid back beach atmosphere. A friend I met in Oaxaca had arrived the day before me and had arranged for a local fisherman to take us out fishing the following morning at 6 am.
Heres a shof the sunrise before heading out

Needless to say the fishing trip was a success with my friend Mario pulling out the prize a 10 lb beauty. We pulled out 6 in total and were the talk of the beach when we beach washed the boat and unloaded our catch. We managed to make lots of friends with our nightly fish fiest and tasty cerviche to eat on the beach during the day. My friends from the Netherlands showed up as well and we hung out together a few days before I headed out.

During my stay in Mazunte it occured to me that I often take the beach for granted. When I think about losing myself in nature I seldomly think about beaches. I usually tend towards mountains and waterfalls, lakes and rivers. Perhaps that is becuase most beaches are so overbuilt with High Rise hotels and resorts that they loose a large part of their natural appeal. Mazunte is far from over built and definately reminded me how wonderful it can be to be on a secluded beach. And few things compare to taking a swim in the ocean on a hot day. Here's a shot of the sunset from Punta Cometa. Its about a 1 hour hike down the rocky shore line and through a bit of forest to get there, but well worth it.

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After a bit of searching we were able to find some chalet style cabins and settle in for a couple of nights. At about 3000 meters (9500ft) its gets really chilly at night time. Definately a welcome change form sleeping in Cuernavaca in 90 degree heat with a fan aimed directly at me all night long. It was also nice to get a little taste of fall weather from back home, and to build a fire in the fireplace. Unfortunatley they didnt quite have the idea of dryed and seasoned wood, but they were happy to give me a bottle of gasoline to use to start the fire with. Heres me trying to get it going, that bottle on the mantle is the gasoline!

In the morning we headed out to check out our surroundings and found that we were really close to the famous Primas Basalticos. A waterfall forming large vertical stones that stand more than 150ft in height. It felt wonderful to finally escape the busy city traffic and noise and make my way back into nature. We spent the entire afternoon hiking around the area and later visiting the ex hacienda de San Miguel Regla. Ex haciendas en Mexico are now almost always converted into enormous hotels with 200 to 300 year old buildings and accomodations. The weird thing is that all of the haciendas were basically slave camps for the indeginous natives of Mexico. Wealthy Europeans,(mostly Spanish) constructed these enormous complexes as farms, ranches and production houses. There are usually quite beautiful but I couldnt see myself staying in one. It woiuld be like turning an old southern plantation into a hotel, and offering accomodation in the old slave quarteres. Maybe they do it, I just havent heard of it.

So after a great weekend out in nature we headed back to busy metropòlis of Mexico. I called the director of the language school in Cuernavaca and reminded him that he owed my a bottle of Don Julio Reposado (very fine tequilla) as a result of the USA winning the gold cup. He acknowledged but said he refused to send me the bottle, I would have to come get it. With Cuernavaca just a 1.5 hour trip I decided it was worth it and set of the following morning. I arrived at the scvhool, collected the bottle, and reunited with some friends who were still there. After a fantastic night out I stayed with the same family I had been staying with previously. Cristina sat down with me in the morning, went over my map, and we decided on a route heading through Puebla. I ruished to the bus station to catch the 1PM and off I went to Puebla.

Puebla is problably the most charming Mexican city I have visited. I`ve seen lots of charming towns, but the cities usually leave a bit to be desired. Puebla on the other hand has the feeling of a small town in a city with almost 2 million people. The arquitecture is a beautiful and unique toi anything i have seen so far. Building are faced with decorative red tiles, and listellos. Wrought iron railings decorate the balconies and heavily detailed cocncrete cornice surrounds widows, doors, balconies and roof lines. I passed many peaceful days just strolling through the city streets and markets and eating Mole poblano in the local comida corrida restaurtants.

One particular day I wandered around the neigborhood behind the old San Francisco convent to eat lunch in a typical food market. After a fantastic meal that set me back a whopping 30 pesos (about $3) I found myself relaxing a park bench underneath a willow tree. Completely relaxed it wasnt long before I dozed off for an afternoon siesta. This is something you could never do in Mexico City becuase you`d likely wake up without any of your belongings. As the storm clouds started to move in I knew that it was about time for the regualar afternoon downpour. I put on my raincoat and headed back towards the hostel through the ceramics market. An unexpected gust of wind tore down the alleyway leaving broken vases, glasses, bean pots, and tazas in its wake. The artisans stood motionless in disgust as they stared at what must of been days or in some cases weeks of work lying shattered in the stone streets. Above the noise of the now pouring rain and flapping awnings, I could hearing the crunching sounds of the cermacis uner my feet and the those of the other pedestrians. Perhaps Im just a bleeding heart, but I decided to return the following day to make a few purchases.

I also made a short day trip to the town of Cholula, which is home to one of the many ancient Mixeca ruins sites. Also on a clear day you can catch a glimpse of the Popocatépetl volcano. I was hoping to take a hiking tour of the olcano, but recently they have limited access due to speculation of another eruption. The volcanoe last erupted around ten years ago. I did the best I could here to get a shot through the clouds.

Heres an Spanish Catholic church built on top of the ruins of Cholula . This is a common practice signifying the Catholic churchs` succesfull conversion of the Indigenous people to Catholocism.

I also managed to make lots of friends in Puebla with other travllers and locals. One of the employees of the hostel invited me out one night with his friends to watch a fe soccer games. He like many other Mexicans i have met, started the night by telling me he was going to teach me to drink tequilla. You can probably imagine how that turned out. After a wounderful time in Puebla I headed back to Mexico to hook up with some friends there who were headed to Oaxaca.

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So I can honestly say that my lack of updates is precisely related to my recent lack of activity. My stay in Cuernavaca provided me the opportunity to do things I haven´t done in a while. I got settled in to a consistent schedule, sleeping in the same in bed and eating three hearty home cooked meals a day. I spent a fair amount of time thinking about how easy it is to get settled into a comfort zone. I was extremely content with my less than 300 sq ft living space, in fact I only used about half of it. I chuckled a bit to myself when I remember my 4,000 sq ft home back in the states, and less than than 10% of that space is sufficient.

The Spanish School, Chac-Mool in Cuernavaca turned out be the perfect choice. The setting was tranquill, and I got a chance to meet a lot of interseting people. The school was not packed full of college students looking for graduation credits, to the contrary it had a much higher percentage of professional students. I was fortunate enough to spend the majority of my time there with the same classmates. I developed a bit of a reputation for contravesial comments during our conversation classes, but those who know me arent surprised by that. Here is shot with me and some classmates and teachers at Trishs´ going away party.

Living in the house with me in Cuernavaca were three other American students, and one Mexican girl who is studying at the University in town. For the most part it was pretty tame, but we did managae to have two pretty full house parties and attend a few others. The atmosphere in Cuernavaca during the summertime is great, but it has the feel of a vacation spot. I decided that that was OK, because in a way my stay in Cuernavaca felt like a vacation from travelling. One night in particular my friend Doug had his friend Mike stop by on his way to Belize. Doug and Mike are both Antropology students at U of H. Anyway, we set out to watch a soccer match and have a good time, We wound up in a little hole in the wall bar listenting to fantastic live music and being pestered like mad by a 50 something drunk Mexican guy who just repeated the same three sentences over and over again. The bar had a set of bongo drums, so Doug went up and gave it a pretty good run, playing the bongos to music he´d never heard before. Later that night, about three AM, we ate what seemd like the best Tacos al Pastor I´ve ever had. Here´s Doug on the bongos

I was able to fill my weekends with the occasional excursion to a nearby locales. One of my favorites was the city of Toluca. Toluca has a beautiful city center that has real colonial feel for such a big citiy.There are mountain vistas from just about everywhere including the famous Nevado of Toluca. It is a Volcano that remians snow capped just about all year long. Unlike Palm Springs there is no tram to get you there, just a windy cliff hanging road. After arriving and heading all the way to the top we were hoping to stay in a mountain refuge and do some exploring the next day. When we payed the toll at the entrance the attendant assured us that we´d find accomodation at the top, well what do you know. We arrived at the top at night time to find that the only refuge was being remodeled.Bad information! Something I´m getting used to here in México. So faced with option of sleeping in the car in sub 0 temps, we decided to head back through the thick evening fog for a lodge in town. Here is a shot of the Nevado of Toluca from a distance. You can get an idea of the fog.

I also headed out to Guadalajara to visit my brother in law(David) and niece(Allison). The night I arrived it was Pepe´s birthday and we celebrated the better potion of the night. The family was extremely hospitable as they had been the time before, and they kept me extremely well fed including a delicious Pozole for Fathers day. Unfortunatrely my brother in law and niece had to leave earlier than I, but on of Davids cousins was nice enough to show me around the city. Here´s a shot of me with the people who took such good care of me in Guadalajara.

I have now left Mexico City and am making my way south. I promise that the updates with be more regular....or I´ll do the best I can.
Thanks to Julio and a victorious USA I also have a full bottle of Don Julio repopsado in my bag, you know for those cold nights on mountain tops.

Back to School in México remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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After picking up the speed to a near vacationers pace to finish in Germany on May 9th, things have definately slowed down a bit. The original plan was to show up in Mexico on May 9th and enroll in a Spanish immersion class on May 12th. The fork in the road came when Brenda told me that she had resigned her job and wanted to travel to Tabasco before returning home to start interviewing for a new job. A week later they had convinced her to stay, and thus spinning me back to plan "A" I headed south to Cuernavaca to begin the Spanish immersion program.
My time back in the states gave me some more practice at something I have always been terrible at, saying goodbye to friends and family. My friend James is off on an extended trip to Asia, you can read about his travels here
http://jamesholst.travellerspoint.com/[/url]
And my friend Mandy has moved across the USA to Oregon, driving home the well known truth that you can never go home again. It was probably the most difficult saying goodbye to my brother after doing almost everything together the last few years, Ill miss him dearly over the course of my travels.

Getting off on the Central/ South American leg of my trip has proven much more difficult than the first (and much more brief) European leg. Im definately starting to feel like the grass is growing under my feet. And although I have no schedule to keep, I am starting to get anxious to get moving on. My niece and brother in law will be in Guadalajara in a few weeks, so Ill make a trip to visit them and reconnect with some friends made on my last trip there. After that some decisions will have to be made.

But I have managed to pack a little excitement into the last couple of weeks. We somehow managed to get tickets to "The Classic of Classics" a semifinal league championship match between Club American and Gudalajara Chivas at Azteca Stadium. This is far and away the most watched and important soccer match in all of Mexico, and we mixed our way into a stadium filled with over 110,000 fans to see the spectacle. The Club America cheering section or "Barra Brava" was just below us and the entire section rocked to the beat of the constant drum roar, chanting , and waving flags of their fanatical fans throughout the entire 90 minutes. Ive seen soccer matches in a lot of venues, but Im no sure Ive ever seen a stadium match the intensity of Azteca stadium. Its easy to understand why the Mexican National Soccer team has a near perfect record in that stadium, and the US have never won there. The streets before and after the match were lined with police in full riot gear and flag waving fans dancing and celebrating in the streets. America got a 1-0 victory on their way to advancing to the final and losing to Pachuca in the Championship.

The match capped a week which included a trip to Valle de Bravo and a Tepozlan. Tepozlan is one of my favorite little towns around the capital because of its sleeply town center and a challenging climb up the dried river bed to an old indigenoius temple and ruins at the top. It is defiantely more like climbing a rocky staircase than a hiking path and it takes about 1 1/2 hours to reach the top. The locals believe this to be a source of great energy and enduring health, and many of them make the climb once a week. Once at the the top, you can catch your breath and lye down on the ledge of the temple. The view is good, but the peaceful calm, and satisfaction of having completed the trek is worth a rest.

Valle de Bravo was less than impressive and basically a low rent style tourist trap. As if the 5 hour drive to get there wasnt enough, we capped off the evening was the ever so fun collision with another moving vehicle. Fortunately no one was hurt, and before I could get out of the car to see what was going on the other driver screamed "fue tu culpa" (it was your fault) and sped off. I guess thats how they deal with car accidents down here. The good news is that Ive had parking tickets cost more than the body repair.

I feel like something would be amiss if I didnt at least mention my living arrangement. While studying in Cuernavaca I am living with a Mexican family who host students studying in the various Spanish immersion schools in Cuernavaca. This has been a nice change becuase I eat all home cooked meals, and rest my head in the same bed every night. There are also a couple of Mexican students living in the house who study at the local University. It is defiantely lively, and they usually invite me out for nights on the town and house parties, and lots of opportunities to meet locals. Although many times I am employed as a translator between the locals and the other students from the States. At least I know how Oscar and David felt before I could speak any Spanish. Im hoping to participate in soccer match tommorow night with some newly made friends from a party last night.

Cuernavaca is a beautiful little city and the capitol of the state of Morelos. It is home to some amazing musuems and monuments such as the Palacio Cortez with and amazing mural by the international renowned Diego Rivera. A beautiful and lively historic downtown, and you guessed it, lots of Chilanga y Gringo tourism. Never the less it is extremely safe by Mexican standards, and still reasonably priced. In as much as i am enjoying my time here, I have begun to think daily about where im going next. Cleary a sign that its about time to get moving on.

Dissapointment set in when I was not able lock down Copa America tickets, thanks to a little procrastination on my part, and major procrastination on the part of the Venezuelan Government not putting the tickets on sale until six weeks before the tournament start date. This has me reevaluating my trip plans. I may elect to start heading south through Mexico and Central America in leiu of flying to Venezuela. This is the beauty and consequence of not having a schedule. I am constantly enchanted by the stories about Yucatan, Oaxaca, and Chiapas in my culture and history class, thus persuading me to possibly follow the land route south into Central America and eventually by boat from Panama to Venezuela or Colombia. Oh well, these will remain decisions for another day. For right now Ill focus on having a good time in Cuernavaca and making the most of my Spanish program.

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After leaving Sibenik I set off for the city of Zadar to use it as a hub to visit the National Parks of Paklenica and Plitivice Lakes. I didnt intend to stay long but I made some friends the first night who introduced my to some fantastic nightlife, thus making it difficult to get an early start to Starigrad the next day. Zadar was charming and similar the the other coastal cities. A walled interior with old ports and marble streets. Particularly interesting were the different city gates constructed under the rule of different empires. Here is the Roman Gate.

Paklenica is accesible through a small town called Starigrad Paklenica. It is only about a 45 minute bus from Zadar, and the travel is beatiful as you pass through river gorges and over bridges connecting the islands to the mainland. Starigrad is usually a sleepy town, but I was there on the day before an international rock climbing competition, which filled the town and made for some interesting aquaintances.
The hiking in Paklenica is excellent and the park is extremely well preserved. I choose a 6KM hike that took a leisurely start throught canyon and then virtually straight up a long a switchback to the top of second highest peak. The day was a little cloudy but the views were magnificent, just not able to be captured well on film. Here is shot looking through the gorge to the Adriatic from the peak.

As a result of the climbing competition lodging was booked in Starigrad so I headed back to Zadar for the night. The next morning I was able to get an early start and headed for the Plitivice Lakes National Park. The lakes are famous for being fed by waterfalls created through erosion of the limestone rock core of the surrounding mountains. The changing composition of the mineral in the water creates shade variations from crystal clear blues, to dark green to turquoise. The Park is magnificent and includes several hiking trails that make it possible to see great panoramic views over the series of lakes and waterfalls. Unfortunately, my schedule was compressed and I didnt have enough time to spend multiple days.
Here is a shot of small waterfalls and the beautiful color of the lake water.

Plitivice is half way between Zadar and the capitol city of Zagreb. In Croatia you can pick up long distance buses on the side of the highway, you just have to flag them down and climb aboard. So I grabbed the next Zagreb bound bus and may my way to the city. On my way to the hostel I saw a bar called "Vagabund" I decided I would stop in for a beer the next day. After a day of sightseeing and walking tours I dropped in for a beer. The bartender was the son of the owner and a great guy. I wound up talking to him for hours, getting introduced to his friends and and invitation to go out and enjoy some Zagreb nightlife. After several beers and a Vagabund Pizza, I headed back to the hostel. My roommates were and Austrailian and an American that had just arrived. I invited them for the night out and we made the most of it. After a couple hours of sleep I rushed to the train station and grabbed the next train for Osijek.
One of the many beautiful parks in the "Green Horeshoe" of Zagreb

Osijek is known for being a major river port and formerly one of the most diverse towns in Croatia. Its proximity to Hungary, Bosnia, and Serbia led to an extremely mixed population which also included Austrians, Italians, and Germans. That is until 1991, when its proximity to Serbia and prime river location made it a major battle spot in the Homeland War. I met a nice girl in Osijek who was generous enough to take me out and show me around the town. Her family fled to the United States during the war. She later told me that she is Serbian, but everyone thinks she is Croatian. This is the way it has to be if she is to live in Osijek without the resentment and discrimination of her peers who believe that her relatives are responsible for the death of theirs. The city is mostly rebuilt but buildings everywhere show the pock marks and exterior damage of the street fighting that took place 10 years ago. These are constatnt reminders for the residents that keep the war fresh in their minds.
The exterior of a historic building in Osijek

The cuisine in Osijek is fantastic, much spicier than other parts of Croatia as a result of their locally grown Paprika and the Hungarian influence. The most impressive town monument is the St Peters and St Pauls cathedral shown here

Leaving Osijek I headed north to Pecs, Hungary then on to Budapest and Munich. I had schedule to keep and I didnt get to see much. Only enough to know that an Eastern European trip is my future.
The town square in Pecs

Croatia, The Parks and Slavonia remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Dubrovnik then Northbound remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The first thing that struck me when I arrived was the immense difference in hospitality between the Croatians and the Italians. I was greeted at the boat dock by several older Croatian women offering Sobe or Rooms at a reasonable price. (This would become a staple of my accomodation in Croatia) I chose one and followed her back to the family apartment where she showed me to my room. Afterwards her and her husband invited me to morning coffee, turkish cofee freshly prepared. It was only 8am but I was feeling good so I went for a shower and to explore the town. They wouldnt let me leave without taking a sip of Croatian plum brandy, a traditional sharing between Croatians and there guest. 8 am or not I had a few sips, bumbčled thrpough some rough conversation and went on my way.

The city center of Split is the old Diocletian Palcae that the Roman Emperor had contructed in 300AD. It was later used as a Roman Army fortress and later inbaited by the people of Salona when thay were forced to flee there city in the 7th century. This is ironic because the Salonians were persecuted by Diocletian himself who personally saw to the execution of the Martyr Domin and all of his followers. There are still Salonians living in the palace to this day. even though a UNESCO world heritage site, this palace is far from preserved. The locals fraternize bars and restaurants, stores and shops. There are lots of great pubs and night life throughout the palace. The whole time I just couldnt wrap my mind around having a few beers in a 1700 year old palace.

I actually got stuck in Split for a little longer than planned. I met some great people including a young fotographer named Ivana. In the pub where I met Ivana, she has managed to decorate all of the walls were here signature photos of black and white nudes. Also the owners of a great restaurant who had met on a Croatian Yacht sailing around the world, made for lots of great conversation. By my last day, I coulčdny walk through the center without being greeted by people I had met. Its a big city but the center is small and you see everyone there. All in all I could have easily stayed for quite a while, but I was feeling the pinch of a May 9th departure from Munich and I decided to press on.
Heres a good shot of a typical alleyway in Split passing through Diocletians palace. Late a night and after a few, well, you can imagine

So I headed off to the Isalnd of Brac for a little relaxation where I rented a one bedroom apartment for $12 a night. Got in some good R and R and headed for Dubrovnik

Central and Southern Dalmatia remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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I made up my mind Friday night that some time in the mountains would be just what the doctor ordered to clear my mind and provide the relaxing atmosphere I was looking for. I absolutely found it in the Dolomites of South Tyrol. I knew from the first 20 minutes of the train ride that I had made the right choice. The window of the train could not have really done the view justice but it was breathtaking nonetheless. We passed through old Italian villages carved into the rocky mountainside, vineyards as far as the eye could see. Then everything started to change.

I knew I wasn't in Italy anymore when I started to recognize the distintly Bavavrian architecture. The signs were all in German now. We passed by a lake, and families of blonde haired fair skinned children were chasing eachother around the shores. I didn't know anything about South Tyrol before I got there, but I was about discover an ironic example of colonization in modern day Western Europe.

The people of South Tyrol used to have their own quiet settlement at the foothills of the Austrian Alps near Switzerland, but that was 400 years ago. They were eventually assigned to Austria, and then after World War 2 to Italy. A brief trip to Bolzano will reveal that they don't consider themselves Italian at all, they don't even recognize the language. Italians even told me they don't feel welcome there, and the Tyrolese are desperately clinging to the remnanats of their culture. The town of Bolzano is losing the battle, but the nearby mountains have still preserved what they can. I took a visit to see for myself.

On Sunday I took the cable car up to the top of nearby Mt. Rittenbaun. There were men dressed in customary green vest and hats and women in traditional overall style farm dresses returning home form Church. The restaurants were serving uo sausages and rump roast, and white wine was staple drink of the afternoon. All along the mountainside are vineyards, not professional but private. These vineyards are for the families that occupy the land and their guest. A few restauranteers have started bottling their own wine as well, but it is mostly private.

The mountains surrounding Bolzano or Bolzen are littered with ruins of old Bavarian castles, hiking trails, lush green valleys, land pyramids, and breathtaking views of the Dolomites. I have limited storage space, but I've posted a couple photos here.

After two relaxing days in South Tyrol I decided to move on to Verona. I had plans to spend another week in Italy travelling the Adriatic Coast but that was all about to change. I discovered a book store in Verona selling Lonely Planet travel guides for Croatia. After some reading I went to bed early and made my plans to head for the coast in the morning. After a hearty breakfast and some good conversation with the owner of the bed and breakfast I was on my way. I arrived in Ancona in the afternoon and caught the next ferry boat across the Adriatic to Croatia. I was leaving Italy and heading to Croatia. All of the sudden my dreary day of train travel and endless walking took a new turn into optomism.

South Tyrol remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Well this race started as more of a sprint than a marathon. Just one week before I left, my brother organized a fanatastic going away party and and just an awesome weekend of great company. Following I spent the rest of my final week, donatining items to charity, selling off what I could and consolidating my belongings into a 5' x 8' storage pod.
All of that frantically accomplished by Friday, or plane took of on Saturday for Venice.

I spent the first two weeks of my travels with my brother, and two other friends Dave and Matt. We managed to pack a lot of adventure into those two weeks including visits to Venice, Paderno, Bassano, Florence, Rome, Pompei, Sorrento, and Amalfi. The most memorable times however were not the Collosseum, the ruins of Pompei, or the stunning Amalfi Coast. The memorable times were organic from our group, and the numerous late nights, or early mornings (It depends on your opinion of 5 am). The random strangers who popped into our lives providing entertainment and comedy material for those two weeks, and many more to come for sure.

Most of all , I want to extend grattitude to Dave for planning and coordinating the bulk of the events. They were two weeks full of great times that won't soon be forgotten. Sorry to summarize, but that is what happens when you have a lot of catching up to do.

A shout out to: The girl in the samrt car and the Italian traffic director, The Roman bar bouncers, Carter, Jade for a great Easter, a $400 cheesesteak, and heey guyzzz here's to the Creepers

Italy remains copyright of the author natewhd, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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