It is Finished

It’s strange. That comment just about sums up the entirety of my feelings. Waking up confused as to where I am in the mornings is still the prominent feeling. It still takes a few seconds to figure out where I am. Things have changed yet again, but this time it has been towards something that should feel familiar…so why does it still feel foreign?

For those of you that do not know, or have not figured it out, I have returned to the country of my own origin. Don’t feel bad if you feel like you are the last to know. It was kept a secret on purpose even though I have known since I was in Colombia. I wanted to surprise people and it has been successful. Those that knew before you, only know because theirs and my paths just happened to cross. I will touch a little more on my feelings of being home, towards the end of this, but for now, I do still have a couple of adventures to catch you up on.

I believe I left off still in Santa Lucia Cotzumalguapa, Guatemala at my friend Astrid’s home. After having visited the memories of my mission, Astrid and I caught an evening bus to the Peten area of Guatemala, which basically encompasses all of the northern area of the country. Back in the 1950s it was still considered uninhabitable due to the intensely thick jungles and the dangers that come with it, not to mention the insanely humid heat that is inescapable. Since the fame of the most spectacular ruins of Tikal and El Mirador and other attractions, the population has since skyrocketed. That being said, there are still no large cities to be found. We arrived at Peten Lake at 5 a.m. and quickly found a hotel on the island of Flores with a balcony overlooking the lake. It was a stunning view to see the sun rising over the lake. We didn’t have much time to enjoy it though since the tour van to Tikal picked us up at 6. An hour after that, we had circled the lake and found ourselves in the middle of the wild rainforest with nothing but a sign of a map and a path laid out in front of us. As we passed little lagoons, signs advised caution of the caimans. I wanted to go out searching for them, but was restrained by Astrid, therefore, we never did see one. While pursuing a giant butterfly I was also able to demonstrate to Astrid some of the dangers of the rainforests when it lit on a tree covered in 4 inch thorns. It was a perfect lesson as to why you must be ever vigilant in the jungle.

I had been told that I would see monkeys, though I wasn’t sure how probable it was. No one told me that spider monkeys in the Tikal jungle are more abundant than squirrels in the mountains of Utah. I could’ve spent the entire day taking pictures and following the monkeys, but knew that there were others in my presence that perhaps might not share the fascination. I did have a pretty intense desire to see the iconic ruins as well though. So I didn’t mind paying less attention to the monkeys.

We saw several smaller pyramids and buildings before ascending the tallest temple IV. As the steps broke free of the canopy, the view was breathtaking. We stood at the highest point as far as the eye could see. Within less than a kilometer of us there were several other temples poking their heads above the canopy. It was an artistic break from the canvas of green that surrounded everything else. If you looked carefully below us in the tops of the jungles, every now and again you might see the periodic spider monkey or howler monkey. It was a special experience.

The biggest pest we encountered was also one of the smallest. As always in the jungle you need to be careful not to stay put for too long, or at least be ware of where you decide to rest. All of the ants in the jungle bite, and don’t be fooled by their size, they pack a painful bite. Other than that, we were not bothered too badly by anything, or anyone else. The park was even fairly void of tourists, which was wonderful.

            In some of the structures in Tikal you can enter into small rooms, but be warned that if you have any fear of bats, I would advise that you stay out, since bats are found in almost every room. There are various species, but none of which are too terribly large. The main plaza was spectacular and every bit of it was worth the visit and the somewhat pricey entrance fee. After having wandered and visited the majority of the ruins on the grounds, we were about to return to the entrance when the jungle decided to show us why they call it a rainforest. As the clouds opened up, we were soaked in a fraction of a second. It was pointless to seek shelter. We made our way back to the entrance in the downpour. All in all the trip was well worth it, and I have finally visited the ruins that made the Mayans as famous as they are.

After another day in Flores, Astrid and I said our goodbyes and in spite of the tears she shed, I still had to head my own direction as she returned to her home on the Pacific coast.

            A few hours later I found myself crossing the border into Mexico and on to Palenque. The whole state of Chiapas Mexico is known for its gorgeous wilderness and incredible Mayan ruins. At this point of my trip, I am all but out of funds and time, so Palenque and Chiapas where nothing but a bus station as I made my way to Villahermosa.

            For those of you planning to visit southern Mexico, let me just say, you can skip over Villahermosa. It is the opposite of what its name implies. I found nothing about it Hermosa and the heat was intense along with the hotels being overpriced. I stayed at the cheapest one and while I paid more than I had hoped, I received less. I sweat my way through the night since the fan above me was worthless. You know how if you try to wipe up a mess with an already messy rag, the results are more mess. Now apply that principle to the heat and the fan. I served in the temple the next morning and then made my way around the gulf coast to Veracruz. It took the rest of the day and evening to make it there.

For the most part, Mexico is dirtier than most of the places I have been, the people are definite Mexicans in their way of speaking and their mentality. No one approves of their government or the Federales. They recognize the corruption, but nobody knows what can be done about it, unless there were to be a civil war, which most of the people I spoke with, would fully support. The streets of every city I went to are blatantly plastered with sin and corruption and filth. In the couple of hotels that I ended up in, in my last few days that had televisions, were used as though no television existed. Once again, if you find yourself in southern Mexico, just don’t turn on the tv. It is not worth it.

Veracruz, as a city has some very beautiful locations and is quite clean, relatively speaking. The heat is still unbearable, but the location is beautiful and the people are kind and helpful. I stayed long enough to serve in the temple and to realize that all the surfing was further than I desired to travel, but the beaches are pleasant.

            My last three nights in foreign countries were spent in Mexico City, in a very shady part of town. Every night I lay in bed listening to the gunshots in the surrounding neighborhoods, and the sirens that followed.  Though I, personally, never felt in danger, I did spend much of those evenings thinking about those that have not been as blessed as I have been to have such an incredible family. I thought about the dangers they’ve grown up with, and the choices they make day in and day out. Many of those choices end up affecting the lives of others in irreversible ways. What a sad way to live. It’s true that many choose that life for comfort, or a certain measure of security, but too often there are those that choose that life out of greed or sheer rebellion, or even the excitement. These are they for whom I fear. I found my prayers directed towards all those involved in the shootings each night, and for their families that live in fear each night that they may never see their loved one again.

The Monday before returning home to the States, I had one last visit to a tourist trap and I’m glad I did, especially because it was surprisingly super cheap. I visited the Mayan ruins of Teotihuacan. Though the ruins do not span the area that Tikal does, they are no less spectacular and awe inspiring. In fact, the pyramids of the moon and sun are truly colossal. The pyramid of the sun stands at over 200 ft high. On its apex you can see your surroundings for miles and with no jungles to impair the view, the people below are truly miniscule. The sites and views are amazing, but perhaps more intriguing is the artwork of the area that is more preserved than that of Tikal due to the cooler/drier weather in Mexico City. The numerous depictions of Quetzalcoatl are fascinating to see. The history of the area of Mesoamerica is incredible and interesting in many aspects. For me there is a religious fascination as well as historical. I love to read and study about all of the people and to be able to see the work of their hands is priceless.

On Wednesday the nineteenth of September I boarded a plane in Mexico City bound for Las Vegas. It was strange to stare out of the window and recognize the moment that I crossed back into my beloved country. Was this really happening? Was I really going home? So long have I been on the road in these other countries that it has come to be my life. The first couple of months I was gone, it was difficult at times emotionally and physically, but now, nearly five months after having begun my journey I find myself accustomed to the lifestyle. While standing waiting to pass through immigrations, a young man behind me told me how much he loved the fact that in Mexico he could do all of the things he can’t do here in the states and that he wanted to head back and stay for like a month. I pity people like that. Aside from the fact that he lives as a servant to his vices, I doubt he understands or appreciates the true value of other countries. Like so many, he may never see the true value. Others will never see the side of the countries that I’ve seen and will be content to be blinded to reality.

From Vegas I flew to San Francisco and on to Reno where I met my parents. It was great to see them again though it almost felt like I had only been gone for a couple of weeks. Now, as I said, I find myself in a familiar land, but with unfamiliar feelings. Where to from here? What’s next? Once again I enter the world of anxiety and stress.  I find myself in a country of loud and boisterous people. A people I love, but see differently, not because they have changed, but because my perception has.

Five months ago I set out to fulfill a dream that I have had since I was a child. Many things have not gone as I had planned, sometimes that has been for the better and at other times it has frustrated me, but more than anything I have learned more about myself than I imagined I would. Many of the plans I had made, I had believed were dreams, but as it turns out, they are no longer even remote interests. My conviction however, remains. If there are unfulfilled dreams in your life…do all in your power to complete them. Always accomplish the goals you set if at all possible. Never settle for less than the best. That goes for the things in your life, but perhaps more importantly it refers to your own pursuits and accomplishments. We all have a potential to reach that is way beyond what most of us will even attempt. Remember the words of Nelson Mandela, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we were liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” So many times have I shared these words with others and somehow I guess they only touched the surface of my own understanding. Only now have I begun to realize that I have lived my life way below my potential. I had never acknowledged until now that it is due to my own fears of the responsibility that comes with reaching my potential. It would be so much easier to find a comfy job and get settled and live a good life, but that is not who I am. I am a God by birthright. My goal and greatest desire now is to live a life worthy of that divine nature. My potential is way beyond what I have pushed myself to. It is time to find the limits of my potential and push beyond them. As you and God are my witness, I will be the man God intends for me to be. I will no longer be controlled by that fear that I once refused to believe even existed. Doubt not, fear not.

I hope whomever has read these words, over the past many months, have felt inspired to live their lives a little better ad it is my prayer that we all might live up to our true potential. I leave you with these thoughts and desires.  May we make the world a better place by our actions and not just our desires. God be with you.

Lives Changed

You know what? It’s not very easy trying to keep up with a blog while travelling. Parts of me wish that I could just be completely disconnected from everything and have no worries about anything but myself and what I’m going to do each day. During my travels I have met many people who have done just that and my eyes have been opened to the selfish nature of such desires. I have seen many people just traveling to visit everything, much like the guy I met yesterday traveling by motorcycle around the world. I have met people that have left their own countries just to escape the cares of the world, like the guy I met who only wants to surf and make nothing of himself. I have seen wasted lives time and time again and pray that I might be wiser now in my desires to better myself and the world. It’s true that there is something appealing about certain lifestyles we see, and we each have lifestyles we see and sometimes wish we lived. I will witness to you that the only lifestyles worth emulating are ones that are not self-serving. A life is meant to be used to help others in some way. Remember, this does not mean you need to give up your life to one of servitude, but rather merely that in whatever you choose to do, do it with all your heart and soul and be the best you can. In your life serve others in any way you are capable of. This may mean just being the friend someone needs or just plain having a happy outlook on life. I hope to find ways in my everyday exchanges with people to change lives and bring peace into people’s hearts. In this section of my journey I was blessed to see fruits of a labor long since past. I was honored to be held as a prime source in the complete change of the lives of individuals. I have seen firsthand what I meant to many people whom I had assumed had forgotten me after eleven or twelve years of no communication.
I crossed the border into Guatemala and my heart began to race as I began to recognize buildings, objects, familiar stores and outfits. For my first couple of nights I was blessed with the opportunity to stay in the CCM (Centro de Capacitacion de Misioneros or MTC in English), which is located right next to the Guatemala City Temple. When entering the CCM there were missionaries everywhere teaching one another and practicing their new language. The Spirit that was present amongst so many of the Lord’s willful servants sacrificing time and money was almost tangible. I had planned to only stay one night, but my dear friend Astrid was not able to make it to pick me up until Saturday so I stayed an additional day. Well it just so happened that that Saturday was my birthday.
I began my birthday the way I think one should always begin it. I offered my services in the temple by participating in a session. You can’t start off a day in a better manner. Immediately after exiting the temple and then packing my bags, I was met at the gate by a friend I hadn’t seen in eleven years. Her name is Astrid Figueroa and she was only fifteen years old when I met and taught her and her mother Telma. She later was baptized and continues with a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel. The face had changed, but the smile remained the same, thank goodness because otherwise I wouldn’t have recognized her. After catching up a bit, we were picked up by one of her friends, Irene, who had a car and then we went on to meet up with other friends of theirs, Angel, Max, and Selvin. Irene was funny since after she saw my photo without a beard she was constantly trying to get me to shave. The other three gentlemen are essentially kindred spirits of mine. They are extremely outdoorsy and are continually climbing volcanoes, and we just seemed to get along famously from the start. I loved those guys instantly and I know I will be seeing them again. We celebrated my birthday by visiting downtown first of all with just Astrid, Irene, Angel and I. As we were standing there in the crowds, a man suddenly came running at full speed right in front of me. It didn’t register that he was a thief until I saw the young lady running after him a second later. There was nothing we could have done because of the speed of that man’s flight. Had she yelled in advance I might have been able to do something. In fact I found and continue to find myself frustrated that she did not say anything. I have also thought many times on the instance since then and wondered if there was something I could have done that I didn’t. The answer always comes out the same, that there was nothing I could’ve done. It’s funny how that works though. If I find myself with these thoughts about something so simple, how difficult it must be for those who find themselves in similar situations, but with more dire outcomes. I can see how someone might blame themselves for something, even if there is no fault to claim.
The evening of my birthday was spent with all of my newfound friends and one old friend around a little table singing happy birthday and blowing out a match placed on a donut for my birthday cake. I couldn’t have planned a better birthday! Mostly because I just don’t plan, but also because it was more perfect than I had hoped. The only thing missing was family and all of my other close friends. No gift is greater than the memories we make with the ones we love.
On Sunday I returned to the very first wards I served in on my mission. Though many didn’t recognize me with my bearded face, and many others had moved away, but once the connection was made there was joy all around. The bishop of one of the wards shared what he knew of my very first baptism. The young man’s name I will not disclose, but I will share a summary of his story. At a young age he was caught up in one of the more dangerous gangs in the Americas and during that time had murdered at least three individuals. I never knew that boy. The man I met was a seventeen year old who, upon hearing the truth had grasped hold so tightly his hands would never be pried away. Because of the seriousness of the sins he had committed, permission to be baptized was withheld for a long time. When I was there, we managed to push hard enough and the permission came from the first presidency to allow the baptism. Remember that he was a young adult when I met him, but he was as the people of the scriptures who laid down their weapons and became even more righteous than those who had had the truth all of their lives. Even as a young man he was respected as if he was one of the “village elders” so to speak. When he spoke, the room went silent and all listened. Anyway, when I asked the bishop about this young man, the bishop said with a smile that the young man had served a mission and went on to marry a returned missionary in the temple and they had moved to the states where they currently reside. Can you imagine the joy that filled my heart and even now fills it as I write this? “If it so be that ye should labor all your days and bring but one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy” Truly it is great!
Tears were shed with others who had grown to mean so much to me in those days as we had our brief encounters that Sunday. Sometimes it is hard to see how much we meant or mean to someone until we see them years later and from a different view.
Astrid and I went out to the coast that night to Santa Lucia Cotzumalguapa, to her home where we met with Telma, her mother. I stayed in their humble home for much of the time I was in Guatemala. You know, there are many who live in humble circumstances, but they themselves are far from being humble. This is not the case with Telma and Astrid. Though the house is completely made of tin with a dirt floor and holds one room with two beds and a table in the middle, I found myself with better service than a five star hotel. The shower was with a bucket and the outhouse was a hole in the ground, but I had all of the comforts I need. Throughout the week I was able to visit the Quetzaltenango Temple and each one of the areas I had served in during my mission, many of which no longer pertain to that mission. The main thing I noticed physically about the different locations is that Guatemala, over the past ten years has cleaned up tremendously. The streets are no longer filled with mangy dogs and not nearly as much garbage. Indeed I did not even see one dog in certain streets where before there was a dog every ten feet. Health standards have improved so much in so many ways. There is still difficulty in trying to change the mentality of many of the indigenous pueblos, but with time this will happen. I found that many of those I had taught and baptized were no longer in the places I had left them, but I was able to stay with my last baptism, who has since served as a branch president and is currently in the high council. In fact as I walked in and surprised them, they were with the sister missionaries discussing investigators. Wow! His brother and family, who had also been baptized, continue faithfully in the branch as well. Words cannot express how blessed I feel to have been able to see the fruits of labors of years past.
I think this visit to Guatemala was mostly for my own benefit, to help me realize that our efforts do not go unnoticed and in fact as we change the life of one person, it indeed will have a direct effect on the lives of many. I was told, by a complete stranger, after baring my testimony that first Sunday in Guatemala, that I may never know the effect the testimony of a missionary who had once served in that ward, would have on both the members who remember him and the members who have yet to meet him. He thanked me and said that my testimony has already changed the spirit of the ward to one more desirous to serve. As I contemplated that thought, I know that the truth of the matter is that our testimonies, no matter who they are from or where they are born, should have that effect on all who hear them.

Isla De Ometepe

La Isla de Ometepe in Nicaragua is a beautiful island in the middle of the impressively large Lake Nicaragua. The island itself was formed by two massive volcanoes joined at the hip. The larger of the two volcanoes is Concepcion and the smaller is Madera.

I made my way to the ferry port from where the bus dropped me off a couple kilometers away with my 40 pound pack on my back. The heat there is ridiculous and the humidity will soak you in an instant.  I was told a taxi would cost the equivalent of less than a dollar, but opted to walk, as usual.  Along the way, a bicycle taxi rode by and offered to take me for $2.50. I told him no thanks, while in my mind I was thinking of how outrageous that price was. A while later, I passed by a few guys working on a wall across the street  who yelled to me that they would take me to the port for just 5 dollars. I laughed and said, “You guys must think I’m a gringo?” I could hear them laughing for some time after I passed. When I was well past half way there, a taxi drove by and called out that he would  charge just $5. At this point I was rather annoyed at how hard they try to take advantage of foreigners. I said to him, “You must think I’m an idiot.” He drove off and said nothing in response. Upon arrival at the dock I read a sign saying the last ferry left at 4pm and it was now 5pm. I was about to walk away, but decided to go look at another sign. I wasn’t even able to read the next sign when a couple of gentlemen told me to hurry because the last ferry was leaving. They pointed me in the right direction and I took off running. Good thing I did because I literally had to jump to get on the ferry as it was pulling away. At least now I could rest for the hour or so it would take to cross to the island.

In front of us lay the island of Ometepe with its volcanoes looming in the distance. Behind me the sun created a spectacular display of fiery oranges and reds. To the south an electrical storm lit up the sky periodically. Every time I attempted to put my camera away, something else drew my attention. Finally, night fell as we approached the dock. Birds of all sorts were saying goodnight in the jungle nearby.

 We pulled in and I walked up the road with no clue where I was going or even what part of the island we had landed on. I found a shop and the lady offered me a bungalow. The price was right so I took it. It was a block away from her place and hidden back in some banana trees. It was typical with concrete walls and a tin roof. I had a fan for relief from the incessant heat.  As I wrote in my journal I heard a loud noise on the roof as if a large animal had just run across it. I stepped outside to see, forgetting I was in my underwear. I didn’t see the source (The next morning I found it was a 3 and a half foot long iguana), but I saw a little gecko hunting by the light. I stepped back in to grab my camera and then back out again. I closed the door to keep the bugs out and immediately realized the mistake I had made. The doors can only be opened with a key, the same key I had left inside. Oops. I knew I would be able to pick the lock if I had a piece of paper, but that too was inside. The extra keys were a half block away and I was not about to walk down the middle of the street in my skivvies if I could avoid it. There were still many people out and about. Wouldn’t want to frighten the locals. My neighbor’s door was open though. I can only imagine what was going through their minds as a barely clothed gringo poked his head in asking for a piece of paper. In spite of the bewildered looks on their faces, they were kind enough to oblige. A few moments later I returned their paper, torn and contorted. I told them what had happened and we all had a good laugh.  

The next day was full of exploration as I made my way to the other side of the island to a village called Altagracia. From there I began my ascent up Concepcion. I followed a road toward the volcano until it turned into a path, which continued upward until it eventually disappeared entirely and I entered pure jungle. For the next few hours I fought my way through the jungle growth. In the near distance I could hear the calls of howler monkeys. I tried to make my way towards them, but was always blocked by impassible jungle. I was not equipped for anything too dangerous and even what I was doing was more dangerous than most people should attempt. I later found that in the previous month people had done the same thing and one was killed by a fall. They were inaccessible for days. The thing is, in the jungle you must be ever vigilant and even that may not suffice. In fact, I nearly fell into a bottomless pit myself. The growth can be so thick, as it was in this case, that it completely covered a drop off. Somehow through the growth I saw a deeper blackness and hesitated. When I looked closer I moved the plants and saw a massive drop. In fact, I could not see far enough to see just how deep it was.  Naturally, I redirected my route. Shortly thereafter I decided I had played with fate long enough and it was time to head down. Sadly I never did find the howlers.

Heading down the mountain, which I had only gone about half way up, I ran across a young man by the name of Benjamin and an older lady that was basically his mother since he had left home long ago. They were on the mountain collecting bananas and some fire starter when we found each other. They looked stunned to see me and thought I was a long lost hiker. They offered to show me back to the town. I told them that even though I did not need the help, I would love the company and offered to help Benjamin with the 100 or more pounds of bananas. The hike was quite the exercise, but I got to know the two of them and indeed they brought me back to their house where I met the rest of the family Villanueva. They have offered their home to me if I ever return. The whole hike back I was lectured on how dangerous it was to be out there on my own and that many had died doing what I had done, blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard it all, but courteously listened. Why is it that people think I don’t recognize the dangers? I am perhaps more aware of the dangers than most. I wouldn’t attempt the things I do without that recognition. Still, I suppose it is nice to see people care.

In the park, while waiting for my bus to get me around to San Jose where I was staying, I chatted with several local guys. The people on this island are super nice and it was actually a breath of fresh air from the other sorts of people. My experience on Ometepe was a memorable and pleasant one.  Sitting on the beaches of the island I saw various species of lizards and birds. Looking out over the lake you can’t help but feel like you are on the ocean, it is that humungous.

Back on the mainland I awaited a bus to take me to Masaya. I did, as I always do, and asked the price previous to boarding and I asked it of people who would not gain. Then I approached the bus and asked the price and when he quoted me more than twice what it should be, I scoffed and was about to walk away when he countered himself with a slightly lower, but still outrageous price. I continued walking and said, “I’m a gringo, not an idiot.” He lost my business. I caught the next bus. One thing I can’t stand is dishonesty and being taken advantage of. I don’t appreciate people thinking I am ignorant and don’t believe anybody  enjoys being treated that way.

The rest of my experience of Nicaragua was mostly in traveling. I did find myself wishing I was there with my brother or cousin who served their missions in Nicaragua. To see it all through their eyes and feel the experiences they had while being present at the locations is so much more potent and powerful.

When approaching the border with Honduras we were stuck in traffic for three hours on a country road as the local workers had blocked it off with logs and whatever else they could find for their protest demonstration. I never was able to find out any details. I was mostly just grateful we had air-conditioning.  We somehow were allowed to pass. Honduras was seen only by bus and El Salvador was likewise experienced in that manner for the most part. I did stay the night in San Salvador and served in the temple, but immediately boarded a bus and was on my way to Guatemala. 

As we got closer and closer to where I served my mission, I was filled with emotions. I was giddy as a schoolboy. I have returned. Ten years after leaving this beautiful country and the people I grew to love so much, I have returned.

South to Central

While sitting on a bus waiting for it to leave the station in Liberia, a city in northern Costa Rica, a man in his mid to late twenties came and sat next to me. The first words out of his mouth were, “Where are you from?” in perfect English. As a matter of fact, he didn’t speak much Spanish. His name is Paul and even though he looked Hispanic, and very possibly comes from a Hispanic bloodline, he was born and raised in New York. The next words that came out of his mouth surprised me even more. After I responded that I was from the states, he said, “Good. Then if either one of us falls asleep, the other can watch his stuff.”. What? We just barely met and he already trusts me more than anyone on the bus, just because I am from the states? How often do we find ourselves in similar situations? Am I the same? Do I trust people from my own country more than those in poorer countries? Is it racial stereotyping? I found myself immediately questioning myself as to where I place my trust. I’ve had my trust betrayed many times in this life, more than anyone should. Yet I also have continued to tell myself, at least in regards to relationships, to trust the people until they give you reason not to, or until the Spirit tells you not to. I feel this is good advice when it comes to relationships. The question I ask myself now is, should this same trust be given to all? The actions I have taken throughout this entire trip have implied a lack of trust on my part towards the people of Latino America in general. I hide my cash and cards in different locations. When walking through crowds my hand periodically brushes my pockets to make sure things are where they should be. I’m cautious every time I pull out my camera in public. I have heard many others say that they are the opposite in that they do not trust until they are given reason to. Is that better advice? Perhaps I can justify my actions by saying, when dealing with people one on one, my advice is best, but when looking at a people in general, you should take appropriate precautions. I find following the Spirit and not allowing yourself to be too attached to objects is by far the best route to take.

I’m not entirely sure where I left off last time, since at the time of writing this, I do not have access to the internet nor to my own computer to be able to read my previous post. No worries, I will some up until I get to the interesting stuff. I left Uruguay and crossed the Mar de Plata to Buenos Aires for the last time on this trip and boarded a plane bound for Sao Paolo, Brazil and spent the night on the comfy tile floor of the airport. I had a very long layover until my flight to Bogota, Colombia. The funny thing is that from Montevideo, Uruguay I had called the temple of Bogota and made reservations to stay there two nights in their guest building and they were totally okay with it and even said they’d be awaiting my arrival. Well, as I pulled up to the gate of the temple and spoke with the guard, his bewildered look showed that something wasn’t right. Turns out the temple was under maintenance and would be for several more days. Their must have been some sort of error in communication somewhere, or it was the Spirit preparing the way for me to have a place to stay and catch up on sleep long lost. After some phone calls were made, I was given permission to stay the night anyway. I had the guest building all to myself. For those of you who do not know, for me the accommodations were equal to those of a five star hotel at the price of a hostel. It was the best I’ve had in nearly four months. The view from my window was the gorgeous Bogota temple. The weather was still cool and it was raining the entire time I was in Bogota. The next day I caught a bus to the Caribbean coast, to the famous colonial town of Cartagena. The ride was 25 hours straight in bus.

Whenever I have spoken with people about Cartagena, the first things out of their mouths are how beautiful it is and how I will never want to leave and that many foreigners never do. I will say this much about the country of Colombia, it is stunningly beautiful. The jungles throughout the countryside are dotted with perfectly landscaped farms. This was my television for the daylight hours of the trip. Cartagena is hot and muggy as the tropics can be. Cartagena itself is rich with colonial history, itself  being one of the first and main ports for the Americas. It was a prime target for pirates and was attacked multiple times until the people built a large wall around the city, complete with a fort and cannons surrounding it. It was a success and the wall and fort still stand to this day as one of the main tourist attractions. They were quite impressive to behold and the colonial influence is thick in the “old town” portion of the city. Unfortunately, as often is the case, there are a lot of unattractive things that come with locations that thrive. My guess is that the people who have told me how incredible this place is, probably stayed in the fancier richer portion of the city where everything is top-notch and upper-class. I am one who enjoys to stay amongst the people for the culture and because it is a lot cheaper. Normally, I don’t mind the beggars and street venders, but in Cartagena there is a completely different mentality everywhere you go. There is an attitude that they should receive something for everything. Nothing is free and therefore acts of kindness and service cannot exist. Everywhere I turned, someone was asking for a tip because they pointed me in the right direction, or because they opened the door for me or bagged my groceries. I blame the rich tourists. Even though I stayed in Cartagena for a few days, I was very anxious to leave.

While in Cartagena I took the opportunity to go bathe in a volcano. Not something that many people can say they have done. The volcano is called Totumo and is an interesting phenomenon where instead of lava being ejected, it is a very fine mud. It is not a very powerful explosion when it erupts, but over time it does grow. This particular one is the largest in Colombia, but only reaches about fifty feet high. The crater, which is completely full of the actual mud still liquefied, is about twelve feet in diameter. The locals have certainly figured out how to capitalize on this natural attraction. Aside from the entry fee, there is an “optional” (obligatory) 3000 peso massage while in the mud, and an “optional” (obligatory) 3000 peso payment to the person who will hold your camera whether you like it or not, and finally the “optional” (obligatory) 3000 peso bath that they will give you in the lagoon afterward. The reason I have phrased this the way I have is because your tour guide will tell you these are optional, but unless you are extremely firm and downright rude to them, they will force these services on you, and if you receive these services even if you did not ask for them they will hound you and do all in their power to make you pay. One kid wanted me to pay him for directing me to the lagoon and another man wanted me to pay him for getting the door of the car for me even though I wasn’t even getting in it. Honestly, we couldn’t leave there soon enough. The experience of bathing in a volcano and standing suspended chest high in a liquid clay without touching solid ground and not sinking even though you are not moving, is pretty incredible and unforgettable. So my advice to anyone wanting to do this in that particular location, just plan on accepting the “optional” services and all will be fine.

The crossing of the Colombia/Panama border was an interesting one. For those that do not know, there are no roads crossing the Darian Gap that is the border. The only ways to cross are by plane or by boat. I opted for the boat route, but wanted the cheapest boats possible. This took me southwest of Cartagena several hours across bumpy dirt roads in terribly uncomfortable buses and minivans. Due to the infrequency of the transportation and the length of time of travel, it took me two days to get to the small port town of Turbo. Unfortunately, boats toward the border only leave in the mornings. So I had to stay a third day to wait. Finally I boarded the small two engine motorboat along with about twenty others bound for a coastal town near the border called Capurgana. The boat is one solid piece of fiberglass and is not very comfortable as it slaps down on the water when crossing over swells. Luckily the swells were small for this little 3 hour trip. As I arrived, I had to purchase another ticket for an even smaller boat to cross over to the Panamanian border entry town called Puerto Obaldia. On purchasing the ticket I found that I had just barely sufficient money for the ticket. The bad part is that there are no ATMs in these tiny towns that are isolated from the rest of the world. Not maintaining sufficient cash on me was my first rookie mistake on this section of my trip. They told me that Puerto Obaldia would have an ATM. The boat ride took about a half hour around the next point. First thing on arrival was, of course, immigrations. After that, I found out there are no ATMs and that this town consisted of about 80 to 100 people and that includes the military presence. The nearest town with a road is Carti and is a four hour boat ride further up the coast and the nearest ATM is in Panama City. The cheapest way out is the plane from Puerto Obaldia to Panama City, but that is only the cheapest if you leave upon arrival and do not have to stay for days because there are only three flights per week. On my arrival the next available flight was not for another week. I was met by 5 others waiting to get enough people so the owner of the one boat in town capable of taking us up the coast would feel it worth taking us. Some of them had been waiting five days already. I explained my situation and there was one Columbian there who redeemed my view of Colombians as he offered to spot me the $150 it would cost to get me to Panama City. I thank God for the trust this man had in me that I would pay him back. There were two other Colombians that were to join us and a family of Ecuadorans along with one other young Colombian. With these, we had enough and the captain said we could leave in the morning. I attempted to make the best of the afternoon by exploring the surrounding jungles and beaches. My intentions were shot down as I was leaving the town and a military man told me I was restricted to about a quarter mile of beach and zero jungle and the town. What!? Now I did feel like a prisoner! Don’t give me rich jungle and beautiful coasts and tell me I can’t partake! I made the best of what I had and still saw several different species of lizards and birds. I even saw a couple of Jesus lizards, so called because they run across water. Sadly I did not see them use their faith, though not for lack of trying to get them to. The crystal clear Caribbean waters were as warm as a bath and rich with life as well.

The next day we did not leave in the morning due to some immigration problems with a Colombian couple. While waiting, another boat came in and we added Mikael More to our crew. Mikael is a Swedish giant at around six and a half feet tall or more. He has one of the sweetest spirits I’ve encountered and loves to talk. His Spanish was lacking, so that left me to talk to. Around noon it appeare3d we were ready to leave, but then the captain suddenly decided he didn’t feel like leaving and that we would have to wait until morning. Can you believe this guy!? The nerve! Not that we could do anything about it. He knew he had us and could do as he pleased. No consideration of others needs and desires. This is something I have encountered a lot as I’ve travelled, especially amongst the less educated and less civilized. So the rest of the afternoon and evening I spent stuck in this Caribbean prison. I guess as prisons go, there are certainly worse places. I hate being dependent though and until I could get my own money, I felt dependent and refused to eat with the others even though I knew I would pay him back, I wanted to owe him as little as possible.

Finally, on the third day in the late morning we loaded up the little two engine boat and were off. With few people on the boat and my being in the front with the swells high and choppy, I was often afraid I would be thrown completely out of the boat. I pressure set myself on my bench by pressing against the bench in front of me with my feet and my back against the fiberglass seatback. For an hour I used all the strength I had to keep myself from slapping too hard or bouncing out. With my muscles exhausted, my backside in pain, and my spine bruised, I felt I was ready to give up and said a little prayer that the seas would be calmed or my strength would endure because I really didn’t want to go back to that town, but didn’t know if I could endure another three hours of this. Moments later, the seas calmed and from that time forward the ride was bearable and in fact sufficiently comfortable to enjoy the pristine San Blas Islands as we passed and even stopped at a couple.

Carti was not what I expected. Indeed it was not even a town. It was a parking lot for those tourists coming to the San Blas Islands. There were a total of about four buildings, a soccer field, and the highway. We then piled into two suvs and made our way through the lush jungles to Panama City. I have never been so grateful for a cushioned seat.

With no time to sufficiently appreciate the next few countries, now that I was on a schedule to get to Guatemala by my birthday, my experience of Panama was such as I have shared and was finalized by watching the sunset over the Panama Canal as large tankers and cargo ships took turns being tugged through the locks. There was something awe-inspiring about watching these colossal man-made inventions cross through this amazing feat created by mans inspired intellect. Rather than use my money on a room and a bus, I caught an evening bus to San Jose, Costa Rica and used it as my hotel as I have grown accustomed to doing.

Costa Rica was a flash. Honestly I didn’t really mind too much either. Everywhere I turned in Costa Rica there were tourists and the cities are such that if I didn’t know better, I would believe I was in the states. The surrounding jungles were the only reminder, along with the tropical humid heat, that I was not in the USA. I was on buses all the way up to a beach town called Playa Del Coco. I arrived in the evening and made another rookie mistake that I was not aware of until the following morning. I ended up paying four times as much as I anticipated due to dividing the cost in half instead of doubling it to figure out the cost in dollars. It was nice to have air conditioning though. That’s what I get for trying to think when I’m exhausted and lacking in sleep. The next morning I explored the town and beach. Upon hearing people say good morning instead of buenos dias,  I realized the town was  full of rich tourists who decided to make their homes there. My intention in going there was to do some surfing, but sometimes the tide has other things in mind. There was zero surf and the ocean was almost like a mirror. Plans foiled again. The town was pretty, but expensive, much like all of Costa Rica seems to be. Around midday I made my way to Liberia to catch a bus to the Nicaraguan border. That is when I met the beach bum Paul whose soul purpose in life was admittedly to surf, drink, and smoke. I can’t imagine a life like that. It seems to have no purpose and no joy. I can barely go a few days without doing something that helps me feel like I’m progressing or benefiting mankind in some way. May we all feel a greater purpose in life than our own thrills. I leave you with that.