Our lack of ridiculous misadventures managed to quickly catch up to us.
- We had to walk home from a friends hostel, in the pitch black, in a town that doesn´t believe in electricity past 9 pm. We walked into several bushes, a ditch, a dog house and a barbed wire fence. Erin also managed to crush her toes on every rock along the way.
- I burned Erin´s hair off with a candle. In all fairness, I was trying to save her as she was tripping (which is a hobby of Erin´s). I, however, managed instead to push her further into a cave crevice while burning her some new bangs.
- This is quite possibly the best of our misadventures . . . . In attempt to enjoy the sunset, we invited our British friend Joe out for a little evening paddle. Being on the Carribean coast, he had this incessent need to say, "Mon," in every possible context, whilst wearing a rasta hat. We sat in the canoe, Joe said, "Alright, mon," and we were off. We decided to paddle out to an anchored boat, to pirate it and demand a beer, or at least some tea and crumpets. We never actually managed to go in a straight line, with everyone rowing haphazardly on different sides. Joe and Erin, being the front and back seats, decided instead it would be better to have a water fight. I sat in the middle cursing them both as they splashed each other, managing to wet mostly me. After I was completely drenched, and had sufficiently cursed them both, the boat (surprise!) had managed to fill with water. I began scooping it out when a man rode by on his motor boat. He asked if we needed help, to which Erin quietly said no and laughed, and Joe said, "No, mon." I, instead, asked for something to get the water that had filled 1/3 of the boat. The guy threw us a jar and I began to save us. However . . . in this saving process, I was leaning left, Joe was overcorrecting and rocking every which way, Erin was reprimanding the both of us while Boat Man kept saying, "Don move, ya gonna sink de boat." Sure enough, we did. During one of Joe´s overcorrections, water came streaming in, and the boat went down. We all started laughing histerically, choking on the water as the boat went down like the Titanic. Joe frantically attempted to stay above water, fearing for his pink and blue rasta hat. Boat Man rolled his eyes and scolded us, as our laughter turned into the silent, gurgly giggles. In exasperation he finally said, "Do you want me to save you or what?" We did. He did. He was able to grap the last inch of visible canoe, and tie it to his boat. We were still laughing as he lectured us on boat safety. When we pulled up to the hostel, in a motor boat with the canoe dragging behind, drenched in our jeans, the hostel owner was very curious. Joe told him that we had just gotten tired after rowing so hard, and the nice Boat Man offered us a lift. Joe then turned to us and said, "I don´t usually get the hysterics like that, mon."
We got incredibly side tracked in our trek back to Mexico. We missed the shuttle for the Mexican coast, so instead thought we would try getting there via Belize. On a bus for the capital city, we ran into friends, rasta imposta Joe being one of them, who convinced us to make the trek to their destination - an island off the coast. We stayed two days on the island, ate excellent fish, caught up on the Olympics, snorkled in some fishless, brown grass, and sunk a canoe. After adding to our collection of bed bugs and tan lines, we booked it up the coast to meet Erin´s parents, who happen to be travelling around Cancun. For our last day, we lived it up in style. An air conditioned house, pina coladas, snorkeling in fish infested, brown-grass-free water, cruising in a golf cart and hanging out with baby turtles. Had Erin and I been on our own that last day, we would likely have been drinking bad, cheap beer and playing Go Fish. All day. Thank you Mother and Fater Schulz for seeing us out in style.
Erin has already left me for her flight, and I am once again alone in Cancun, waiting and sweating. Waiting and sweating with my bad Spanish. Trying to say, " I am very hungry, " came out as, "I have many men."
And speaking of men . . . Erin and I have been amazed at the amount of cat calls we have gotten on the street. We are happy to note it has been more than just whistles, kissy faces and hissing noises. Here are some of our favorites.
"I lo you baby."
"Mary me!"
"What happened baby?"
But the best of all was on Belize Island, when a man barked at us. Oh how we will miss these men.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Bat poop shoes and vomit bags
In this past week, sans internet, we have managed to experience our favorite time thus far, as well as our most ridiculous . . .
Our favorite time was living the life of Indiana Jones, The Goonies, Batman and other possible cave dwelling / adventurous / attractive persons. We floated down a river, jumped off a trecherous bridge (well, Erin did. I was unwilling to plummet to my certain death, but Erin very much enjoyed it), rode in the backs of pickups that sped over potholes hurdling us into the air (where our faces were also whacked by tree branches). Oh yes, and we were chased by a large boulder while indigenous Mayans shot poisonous darts at us.
Well, not the later, but we did explore this amazingly awesome cave. We swam through this cave with candles in our hand, the goal being to keep it lit. Erin and I, however, experienced laughing fits, compounded by clumsiness, and my candle was quite familiar with the water. After so many dunks, it was rather reluctant to light. We climbed ladders, and jumped off into a swimming hole (again just Erin. I prefer to observe and say, "Bravo!"). We walked up a waterfall, and bouldered along walls. We also had to fall backwards down a waterfall / black hole, and it was really scary to trust the guide shoving you down it. It was basically the coolest thing ever! and the Indiana Jones theme was whistled, hummed and shouted a good portion of the way. Harrison would be so proud.
The next day we hiked into another cave, full of bats and their poop. The attraction of this cave is to wait until dusk, and sit in the entrance while hundreds of thousands of bats fly out. This was really amazing to have them all whooshing past, with their echo locational abilities and all. We waved our hands to try and hit them, while also squinting our eyes fearing they would pummel our face. A few special ed bats did run into us, one into Erin`s head and another into my leg. I wonder if Christian Bale has ever come out of his cave covered in guano. It`s very sticky and won`t likely come off our shoes for ages. Mmmm.
Now for the events of last night. This has been in the works for awhile, as our adventures are usually packed with mishaps and ridiculousness, but thus far our trip has been rather calm (for us). After travelling for ten hours in a van, packed with tired, sweaty people we pulled up to a lake side hostel. Alas, there was no room at the inn. Our tired, sweaty group were too many for the beds, so Erin and I took one for the team and opted for the tent. As it began to rain, we discovered this tent did not zip up, or have a rain guard. Excellent. We moved it to the kitchen area, where staff had to sidestep our room and cascading belongings. As we stood outside the tent whispering sweet nothings, I began to notice a brown substance dripping on the tent. It dripped on my arm, then my head, then chunkes began to fall from the ceiling. I gagged, as Erin repeatedly asked, "What is it? What is that?!" Turns out it was vomit, seeping through the ceiling. As we moved the tent out of harms way, it dripped on Erin`s arm. Also, having no rain guard, the mosquito netting of the tent served as an excellent strainer. The chunks remained on top, slowly sliding down the sides, while bile mercilessly covered Erin`s backpack. Good thing we moved indoors to save us from the rain.
After much more gagging and cursing / laughing at our lives, our tent had been cleaned out.
At 1:00 a.m. we finally sulked into our kitchen room, where lights were kept on and staff were busily working and chatting. The tent was too small, and our legs stuck out the end, essence of vomit was still circulating, and a cockroach crawled on my head. Luckily we had arranged a 4 a.m. sunrise tour (which ended up being a fog tour), so we didn`t have to attempt much sleep with those excellent conditions.
Bat poop shoes and vomit bags . . . who is picking us up from the airport? Lucky you.
Our favorite time was living the life of Indiana Jones, The Goonies, Batman and other possible cave dwelling / adventurous / attractive persons. We floated down a river, jumped off a trecherous bridge (well, Erin did. I was unwilling to plummet to my certain death, but Erin very much enjoyed it), rode in the backs of pickups that sped over potholes hurdling us into the air (where our faces were also whacked by tree branches). Oh yes, and we were chased by a large boulder while indigenous Mayans shot poisonous darts at us.
Well, not the later, but we did explore this amazingly awesome cave. We swam through this cave with candles in our hand, the goal being to keep it lit. Erin and I, however, experienced laughing fits, compounded by clumsiness, and my candle was quite familiar with the water. After so many dunks, it was rather reluctant to light. We climbed ladders, and jumped off into a swimming hole (again just Erin. I prefer to observe and say, "Bravo!"). We walked up a waterfall, and bouldered along walls. We also had to fall backwards down a waterfall / black hole, and it was really scary to trust the guide shoving you down it. It was basically the coolest thing ever! and the Indiana Jones theme was whistled, hummed and shouted a good portion of the way. Harrison would be so proud.
The next day we hiked into another cave, full of bats and their poop. The attraction of this cave is to wait until dusk, and sit in the entrance while hundreds of thousands of bats fly out. This was really amazing to have them all whooshing past, with their echo locational abilities and all. We waved our hands to try and hit them, while also squinting our eyes fearing they would pummel our face. A few special ed bats did run into us, one into Erin`s head and another into my leg. I wonder if Christian Bale has ever come out of his cave covered in guano. It`s very sticky and won`t likely come off our shoes for ages. Mmmm.
Now for the events of last night. This has been in the works for awhile, as our adventures are usually packed with mishaps and ridiculousness, but thus far our trip has been rather calm (for us). After travelling for ten hours in a van, packed with tired, sweaty people we pulled up to a lake side hostel. Alas, there was no room at the inn. Our tired, sweaty group were too many for the beds, so Erin and I took one for the team and opted for the tent. As it began to rain, we discovered this tent did not zip up, or have a rain guard. Excellent. We moved it to the kitchen area, where staff had to sidestep our room and cascading belongings. As we stood outside the tent whispering sweet nothings, I began to notice a brown substance dripping on the tent. It dripped on my arm, then my head, then chunkes began to fall from the ceiling. I gagged, as Erin repeatedly asked, "What is it? What is that?!" Turns out it was vomit, seeping through the ceiling. As we moved the tent out of harms way, it dripped on Erin`s arm. Also, having no rain guard, the mosquito netting of the tent served as an excellent strainer. The chunks remained on top, slowly sliding down the sides, while bile mercilessly covered Erin`s backpack. Good thing we moved indoors to save us from the rain.
After much more gagging and cursing / laughing at our lives, our tent had been cleaned out.
At 1:00 a.m. we finally sulked into our kitchen room, where lights were kept on and staff were busily working and chatting. The tent was too small, and our legs stuck out the end, essence of vomit was still circulating, and a cockroach crawled on my head. Luckily we had arranged a 4 a.m. sunrise tour (which ended up being a fog tour), so we didn`t have to attempt much sleep with those excellent conditions.
Bat poop shoes and vomit bags . . . who is picking us up from the airport? Lucky you.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Boy it´s hot here
This won´t be a long update as I am sitting between two frenchmen, whose collective body odor is making the flowers wilt.
We are in a beach town in southern Guatemala, and being massacred by sand fleas. Our feet are just red, raw lumps at this point. Awesome.
Two nights ago we walked on the beach and found two mother sea turtles laying their eggs! It was pretty amazing, but we felt quite intrusive. All the same, we touched the mothers and held some eggs.
Both Erin and I have successfuly, and unintentionaly, managed to have a Guatemalan fall in love with us. Our leaving town is breaking their poor hearts.
We are in a beach town in southern Guatemala, and being massacred by sand fleas. Our feet are just red, raw lumps at this point. Awesome.
Two nights ago we walked on the beach and found two mother sea turtles laying their eggs! It was pretty amazing, but we felt quite intrusive. All the same, we touched the mothers and held some eggs.
Both Erin and I have successfuly, and unintentionaly, managed to have a Guatemalan fall in love with us. Our leaving town is breaking their poor hearts.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Much ado about Erin
I will follow suit with Erin's numbered list approach, as so much happens on this Guaty extravaganza.
1. In response to Erin's getting electrocuted . . . . there were wires attached to the shower head, she was standing in a pile of water, and touching said shower head. After the first shock, she touched it again just to "see." The second shock was accompanied by a scream and, "Courtney come in here! Touch this shower head!"
2. We finally washed our clothes. However, we hung them to dry on clotheslines in a downpour . . . so we are still damp, in another rainy town.
3. While ordering tacos, Erin had a cockroach hanging out on her shoulder. It was huge. After saving her life ( I do this a lot), I laughed a great deal. She continues to spontaneously cringe.
4. We roasted marshmallows over lava. They were pretty excellent, even with the little bits of volcanic rock that came with.
5. We met the most annoying faux-British. This Harry Potter look alike (but nowhere near as cool) is a Virginian, who lived a few years in London and picked up the accent to pick up girls. This accent is believable, but only present 61.7% of the time. He is quite hoity-toity, and while under his British facade uses words like, "bum" and "tele" and "rubbish." Thoughts of him also cause Erin to spontaneously cringe.
6. We shared a romantic candlelit evening while listening to a Guatemalan band that used 6 foot tall pan flutes.
7. We fell in love with a monk, and are contemplating ways to convince him of other career choices . . .
8. Erin is incapable of saying no to children and dogs. This has resulted in her buying a dozen bracelets from every doe eyed child, and using all of my hand sanitizer after touching every doe eyed, flea infested dog. This is probably why a cockroach took kindly to her shoulder.
By the way . . . . you are all getting bracelets as souvenirs.
1. In response to Erin's getting electrocuted . . . . there were wires attached to the shower head, she was standing in a pile of water, and touching said shower head. After the first shock, she touched it again just to "see." The second shock was accompanied by a scream and, "Courtney come in here! Touch this shower head!"
2. We finally washed our clothes. However, we hung them to dry on clotheslines in a downpour . . . so we are still damp, in another rainy town.
3. While ordering tacos, Erin had a cockroach hanging out on her shoulder. It was huge. After saving her life ( I do this a lot), I laughed a great deal. She continues to spontaneously cringe.
4. We roasted marshmallows over lava. They were pretty excellent, even with the little bits of volcanic rock that came with.
5. We met the most annoying faux-British. This Harry Potter look alike (but nowhere near as cool) is a Virginian, who lived a few years in London and picked up the accent to pick up girls. This accent is believable, but only present 61.7% of the time. He is quite hoity-toity, and while under his British facade uses words like, "bum" and "tele" and "rubbish." Thoughts of him also cause Erin to spontaneously cringe.
6. We shared a romantic candlelit evening while listening to a Guatemalan band that used 6 foot tall pan flutes.
7. We fell in love with a monk, and are contemplating ways to convince him of other career choices . . .
8. Erin is incapable of saying no to children and dogs. This has resulted in her buying a dozen bracelets from every doe eyed child, and using all of my hand sanitizer after touching every doe eyed, flea infested dog. This is probably why a cockroach took kindly to her shoulder.
By the way . . . . you are all getting bracelets as souvenirs.
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