On The Road Again

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imageHello fellow bloggers and readers…it’s been awhile! My partner Bev recently pointed out that I’m not blogging much anymore, only when I’m struggling or travelling it seems. Well, I’ll be travelling soon, so here we go! I’m heading to Thailand and Cambodia for 3 weeks to work as a volunteer in these countries. For me, this is the most rewarding and exciting way to travel.

I’m going with Bamboo, a well-regarded “voluntour” organization that makes a positive impact on the many countries and communities its volunteers travel to. I will be volunteering on community development and teaching projects in several villages, as well as in an elephant sanctuary. I would also like to help over and above my volunteer and financial contributions to the program. This could include helping students by providing school supplies or buying home supplies for families (e.g. mattresses, mosquito nets, or toilets)…wherever the need is greatest.

If this interests you in any way, perhaps you would consider making a small contribution to my modest $750 fundraising campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/JonathanInThailandandCambodia

If you are interested in following the story as it unfolds, I will be posting blog entries here on http://www.servingothers.com and on Facebook.

Many thanks for your time and interest. Merry Christmas to you and yours!

God Help America

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no-fear-year-image1

I woke up the morning after the US election feeling out of whack and completely off kilter. Soul-weary exhausted. I had so hoped that this would mark the day that he would just go away.

If politics is a reflection of our collective spirituality, how is it possible that my American neighbours could enable such a massive step backwards?

This presidential campaign preyed on anger, fear, and powerlessness. It revealed the chinks in democracy’s changing armour and a palpable shift in consciousness. It was one of the most divisive campaigns ever, and will be one of the hardest fractures to heal.

CS Lewis must have seen this coming 75 years ago when he wrote his insightful and prophetic Uncle Screwtape Letters:

“Make sure to keep the patient in a constant state of angst, frustration, and general disdain towards the rest of the human race in order to avoid any kind of charity or inner peace from further developing. Ensure the patient continues to believe that the problem is “out there” in the “broken system” rather than recognizing there is a problem with himself.”

15032688_1577828872230912_4162241211964790966_nIf you believe that we each have our own day of reckoning, he will certainly have a whole lot of explaining to do. He brought out the worst in many of us. I was shocked at the intensity of the anger he brought out in me. But I know that I alone am responsible for what comes out in me. Not him.

He has given a voice to people who are angry and fed up, but really those people and those feelings have been there along. He just happened to be the opportunistic lightning rod to channel it. He is only the symptom of a much bigger dis-ease in almost half of the American people. Had the other side won, those people would still be out there. Still angry.

Judgement is one of the ugliest and most destructive human traits, and one of the hardest to overcome. The judgement we have piled on him and his supporters because they do not think or behave the way we think they should has only served to further divide us. In a democracy, there will never be absolute agreement on everything–some will be happy with the outcome and some will not. So maybe “agreement” should not be the goal. Maybe the goal should be to let go of our insatiable need to be right, and try to find a better way to coexist despite our differences. Where does one person’s rights end and another’s begin? Yes it’s complicated.  Yes it’s a very delicate balance. Yes it’s much easier said than done. But it is the only way or we will destroy each other.

“We must mature into people who are, first and foremost, citizens of Earth and residents of the universe, and our identity and core values must be recast accordingly.” —Bill Plotkin

As messy and imperfect as democracy is, this is the process we have. At the very least the people have a choice, and some degree of influence over their own governance and future. Many countries do not have this privilege. America has chosen him, and now they must hold him accountable. I hope that there are enough decent people in his circle to balance him out, and that there are enough checks and balances in place to keep him in line. I hope that what he said after he won about “uniting the American people and healing wounds” represents the real person and intention, and that the hate he has spewed for months was only a tactic to get elected. Maybe I am naive.

Will he rise to the occasion? Will he win over his critics, or has too much damage been done? Will he succeed or will he implode? How much of what he said he would do, can he actually do? Only time will tell. I will try to reserve judgement until I have seen him in action.

Now that the choice has been made, the next steps are clear. If he works to truly and humanely improve the lives of all Americans, he should be supported. If he works a hateful, self serving, exclusionary, irresponsible, fear-based agenda in any way, shape, or form, he must be exposed, opposed, and conquered at every turn. On this there can be no compromise. He is being scrutinized like no other, and must be kept on a very short leash. The US could be on the precipice of a very dangerous, destructive, and revolting era, and it could get very ugly for a very long time. This is our wake-up call.

Of one thing I’m certain: hate cannot combat hate–many wise people have said this, and we know this to be universally true. Continuing to hate him and his supporters will get us absolutely nowhere.

We humans have a tendency to fear the unknown, and avoid that which is different from us. That fear and ignorance can often turn into hate. That’s the real war we should all be fighting.

We have survived other natural and unnatural disasters, and we will survive him. Nature has a way of taking care of itself. He is impermanent and containable. The sun will rise again tomorrow, and the day after that. In the meantime, we need vigilance but we must not be driven by fear. And we ALL need to listen, to try to understand, to self-reflect, and to be open.

If we can do that, then some good can come from all this. Maybe he’s here to teach us something about ourselves and to show us where we’re very clearly stuck. Maybe he’s here to shake us up and help us evolve. Nothing ever changes when we are too comfortable. Now that the fear has been exposed and the anger is out of the shadows, maybe the journey towards healing and civility can begin.

A Reason, A Season, A Lifetime

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photo_hands-1They say that people come into your lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.

It seems like it has been more “reason” and “season” than lifetime for the last little while. And it’s those I thought were lifetime that are really throwing me for a loop.

Relationships that I thought would always be there, but for whatever reason, seem to have run their course.

People who I thought had my back, but who really don’t.

Love that is conditional.

What does it say about them? What does it say about me? Why does it happen? Have I changed? Have they changed? Or is this just the natural flow of life and relationships, and I have trouble accepting that?

Lots of questions. Not many answers. And more questions.

What defines a relationship? What is the glue that makes it strong?

Is a shared past powerful enough to keep a relationship together? Or does it need ongoing maintenance and nurturing? Getting together with old friends is fun and nostalgic, but how many times can we recount the same stories over and over again? If the relationship is to continue to be meaningful and current, it feels like it needs more.

What about the ups and downs? The ups are easy. The downs, not so much—but how we navigate these speaks volumes about what you truly have together. The only way through the rough spots is when two people decide to work together—two people who care and are engaged, and who choose to do the dance of friendship together.

I have had, and continue to have many wonderful people in my life. Some I think will be brief, become meaningful. Some I think are forever, end up not being that.

And some of them crush me. The ones I think are rock solid that aren’t. How fragile they are, and how little it takes to break them. This is what surprises me the most.

The intense feeling of loss makes me feel untethered, as do all the emotions that come with it: anger, hurt, betrayal, sadness, abandonment, devastation, and despair. Why are they so hard to let them go? Is it because my expectations are too high? Or because I imagine them to be more than they actually are?

To me, relationships are ultimately about two people who, to varying degrees, care about and appreciate each other. Two people who somehow make the other one better, and are willing to put in the time and do the work to try to understand and help each other.

For most of my life I have fought to save relationships at all costs. But that’s changing. It takes two people to make a relationship work—we’re in it together or we’re not. And perhaps there are other changes taking place as well. My tolerance for bullshit is dropping. My idea of what it takes to maintain a good relationship is evolving. And maybe I am starting to realize, albeit begrudgingly, that some relationships have simply run their natural course.

There are very few I can count on to be truly forever. In the end, everyone is temporary and everything ends. There is an ebb and a flow, and the reality of life is that people come and go.

As hard as it is, I cannot allow myself to continue to be crushed them. It messes up my head and makes me sick. I know deep down that what I must learn to do is appreciate the “reason” or the “season” I have been given with them, think about what I may need to change moving forward, let them go, and wish them well. And carry in my heart the good they have brought to my life.

I need to stop resisting, trust that things are as they were meant to be, hope that the pain and anguish will fade, and that eventually I will feel some measure of peace.

I need to get out of my own way.

But it sure ain’t easy.

Who Are You?

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imageA friend of mine, Austin, recently asked me this question. He has a habit of asking thought-provoking questions.

Who are you right now?

What surprised me was how easy it was for me to answer it. This sort of question would normally have me panicking, fumbling around, and scratching my head.

But not this time. And that must be a good sign.

I am with the flow. I am doing what nature intended. I am with those I need to be with. I am happy with who I am. I am becoming me.

Through Another’s Eyes

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looking_backDear readers…it’s been awhile. A long while. It seems that I am inspired to write on the road…less so when I’m home.

 

But I received this from a reader recently, Cecile, who I have never met. She began following my journey several years back. My life looks a whole lot different than it did four years ago, and although I know deep down that I have made much progress in so many ways, day to day the evolution feels tiny, incremental. I found her note to be very powerful because it summarizes my journey quite succinctly. And although I try to remain present and forward looking, it reminds me of the critical importance of occasionally looking back and tracking my journey over longer periods, with a view to recognizing and celebrating the key milestones along the path that have led to growth. Sometimes it takes someone else with an objective perspective to help you see them. Thank you Cissy for this incredible gift that you have given me.

 

A few years back, I found out that our whole lives we’d been lied to and deceived, and that lots of unnecessary lives had been lost, and more were being sacrificed. There was so much confusion and sadness in my heart, and all the animals were suffering more and more, and it continues to this day.

 

But one day, I found this website called Tiny Buddha. All the writers there were great, but one stood out to me. His name was Jonathan, just like my own little brother Jon who is lost to me now. So I really began to pay attention to all that he was trying to teach, and little by little the crazy chaos in my head and in my heart started to click, and the brain cells started holding hands again.

 

And so one day the brave and good man did go to Africa, far from home he went, to help the children there. And I followed him closely. He didn’t know me, but I left comments and I continued to learn. Then when he came back home, things had changed, and he had to face some harsh truths that would have broken any good man.

 

But my friend Jonathan hit the slopes when the powder was right, and he shared his pics and his fun. That old dude sings a mean song too, has his own band, and he’s just as cute as they come. Pure goodness and love this one. Tonight he sneaks in the back door in his own endearing way with a modest FB post to get our attention again.

 

He hasn’t lost his MOJO, that’s for sure. Love you Mr. Lareau! P E A CE buddy!–Cissy

Into South America: Week 6

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imageMy apologies for the delay of this posting, but I have been offline for the last week or so. This will be the final weekly post as my South American journey draws to a close, and I make my way back to Canada. Kind of cool that it is also my 100th.

When I last left off, I had spent my first night singing with an excellent band at Smiley’s in Pedasi, Panama. With time running short, I felt I had to keep moving and cram as much as I could into my final days. Although rewarding, moving and packing up day in and day out is very tiring, and I was feeling worn out. Another surf beach beckoned–Venao Beach–but I just did not have it in me. In the end, I decided to stay put for another day and night in Pedasi. And that allowed me to discover this sleepy little beach town.

imagePedasi is not actually on the beach, but several are within a few kilometres of the small town of about 2,000 people. I rented a bicycle on Wednesday and headed North-East through the rain to Ariel Beach. I was reminded that I was in the tropics on the way as I biked past a 5-foot snake that, luckily for me, had been previously run over. Ariel beach was deserted, except for a few fishermen cleaning their morning catch. I then biked South along the sand to El Toro beach, even more deserted and unremarkable. Definitely no surf here. Then back to the road, and another 20 minutes of mountain biking to an out of the way beach called La Garita. Spectacular and completely deserted.image

I spent the rest of the day resting and recharging. I returned to Smiley’s for lunch. It is great little restaurant owned by an American, and attracts many expats who have made Pedasi their home. Really great food, and laid back atmosphere, but there was something gnawing at me. It felt very strange to be in the unfamiliar surroundings of Panama, yet surrounded by non-local people like me. I have felt this expat aversion many times before. I haven’t quite figured out what bothers me so much about it. I decided not to return for dinner, and instead found a small, quaint place called Bienvenudush, run by a very friendly Israeli woman. Little touches of love and caring were evident everywhere, and it felt safe here. After six weeks on the road, I had not had a salad. I just couldn’t trust the preparation of them. But she prepared a beautiful, fresh, and very interesting salad for me along with a yogurt based dip that was bursting with flavour and freshness. At $20 it was the most I had spent on a meal in six weeks, but worth every penny. I had not realized until then how desperately my body was craving fresh veggies, and my stomach felt more settled that it had felt in a very long time.

Pedasi was a very special place, with a comfortable, chill flow. Care and attention to detail were everywhere–the people, the food, and the way of life–and I really enjoyed spending time in this bubble of “normal” life for a short while. I met an older Italian man at the hostel, and for the first time since the beginning of the trip, I was able to easily understand his Spanish. His pronunciation was exquisite, his speech slow and easy to follow, and it felt really good not to be struggling to follow the language.

The next morning I packed up, grabbed some snacks for the road from a local Canadian-owned bakery, and began my trek to Panama City, just catching the collectivo before it pulled out. I jumped on the bus, out of breath and discombobulated, and all the locals on the packed bus seemed to get a kick out of this, and watching a 6′ 3″ gringo try to maneuver his way into the cramped space! Open, vulnerable, and not guarded…people universally seem to respond to this. It was a much different vibe compared to the bus ride to Pedasi only a few days before.

I then transferred to a bigger, but still very cramped 5-hour ride from Las Tablas to Panama City. When I finally arrived, the bus terminal looked less threatening this time around. I checked into Hotel Milan in the city centre area of El Congrejo. It was without question the nicest accommodation I have had in the past six weeks. More than the $15-35 I have been used to, but still very reasonable at $65 in downtown Panama City. Right off the bat, I felt really good in this city. Odd because I don’t really like big city life.image

And it felt really good to be back to “civilization” as I know it. I have been living very modestly (and happily), so it was surprising how much I enjoyed having some of my creature comforts back, things I usually just take for granted: toilets that flush everything, ice, good and safe food and water, salads, wine, hot water, a nice towel, AC, reliable wi-fi, clean streets, decent drivers, and the list goes on. I had adjusted to a different lifestyle, and didn’t realize how much I missed some of these comforts. But people are still crazy about using their car horns here, as they have been throughout South America. It is so unnerving, and continues to rattle me.

But there is something else here. It is a big city, but it does not feel big. It feels relaxed, spacious, cosmopolitan, and friendly. I also really like the way it looks, and the thought that has gone into how it looks at night. It is known as a “beta” world city, an interesting term I have never heard of before. A world city can be designated into alpha, beta, and gamma, based on decreasing impact, importance, and influence on global finance and trade.

I wandered around this neighbourhood and quickly spotted a perfect place to settle in and watch Panama go by. Farley’s Piano Bar. Wonderful staff who made me feel very comfortable. Although they didn’t quite seem to know what they were doing, they were open to suggestion, and eager. I was then approached by a very interesting older American/Panamanian couple who chatted with me about the virtues of Panama City, what to do, and suggestions for dinner. With so many seemingly excellent food choices, I was excited to have a nice meal. I walked into a very cool looking place, most definitely underdressed, and enjoyed an equally cool reception from the very well-dressed staff. I have been wearing the same 2 or 3 outfits for weeks, none of which are dressy. But I didn’t care. I may not have looked like I belong, but I felt like I did. I had a beautifully prepared piece of fish and veggies. No rice or potatoes or chicken…what a relief! And I appreciated how well the wait staff practiced their craft.

Then back to Farley’s for a night cap. I noticed an interesting looking guy who had been there earlier and he recognized me. Bill from New York, who was sitting with Luis the Panamanian. Bill approached me, learned I was from Canada, then went to alert a friend of his at another bar who is also Canadian…Jean Galipeau from Montreal, and he came over to say hi. In fact, I have been stopped several times in the first few hours by people who seemed genuinely interested. And that does not usually happen. I am usually happy to just fly under the radar. I had not tried to actively connect with anyone, but it all seemed to be coming to me. Is it the people? Or is it my own energy that is attracting them? Not sure which, but I can definitely feel a shift.

On Friday I spent the day cruising around the city, getting the lay of the land. I visited the Panama Canal, a wondrous feat of engineering. More than 20,000 built this 100 years ago, many of whom died during its construction. I was lucky enough to watch a ship go through the series of locks while I was there….dropping 18 feet in 8 minutes, with only about 24 inches clearance on either side. Very impressive to see this live. Check out this clip of a cruise ship moving through it.

imageOn Saturday, I toured the city again on one of those hop on hop off buses. They were supposed to come by every hour, but this one was an hour late. I spent the wait time feeling fairly relaxed, and befriending yet another policeman (as has become my custom on this trip). One of the other waiting passengers, an older man, asked me in Spanish why I was so calm. Although I didn’t feel particularly calm, I felt that there was nothing I could do, so I suppose I let the frustration go. “You need to fight,” he said. “But fight who, I answered?” Here is a clip on the bus.

With Conrad in the old town.

With Conrad in the old town.

I made my to Casco Viejo, the old town, established hundreds of years ago about 8 km west of where the city used to be before Captain Henry Morgan (yes the guy on the rum bottle) burned the whole city to the ground. Like the rest of Panama City, what I have seen anyway, the old town was laid back and relaxed, in its own little world. As I was having a beer, an older dude came and sat down with me, Conrad. He spoke English, and was extremely sharp, articulate, and well versed. He talked to me about all kinds of things, including what to pay for things, where to find the best mojito in town, politics, Canadians, Panamanians, Americans, Quebecers, what constitutes a gringo, the fact that locals don’t wear shorts, etc. I think he was a walking tour guide, but he didn’t ask me for anything. And I was happy to give him something. He was 78 years old, but I swear he didn’t look a day over 60. A very cool and unexpected little interaction.

Old and new, in harmony.

Old and new, in harmony.

There is a relaxed, comfortable, and laid back feeling in the old town, where I wandered around, sang with a street musician, enjoyed the best mojito I have ever had, and tried to soak in the history. And the fact that you can see skyscrapers in the distance makes for a very interesting juxtaposition of old and new.

With Manuel, at Farley's Piano bar.

With Manuel, at Farley’s Piano bar.

I returned to my little piano bar, and Manuel offered me 3 for 1 happy hour, and asked the chef to prepare an off-the-menu langoustine dish that was out of this world. Over the three days I was in Panama City, he made a very special and constant effort to make me feel at home, which I am very grateful for. It was the first place I stumbled into just after arriving in Panama City, and I felt at home here right away.

And with that, my solo journey was quickly drawing to a close as I prepared for a flight to Florida, and then onto Toronto and back to Ottawa. So far, the return to “normal” is very strange and jarring, and I’m not quite sure where I belong: the cold, the snow, the humanity, the language, Christmas, the complete abundance of everything, and the familiar. I need some time to reflect on the past 2 months, and digest everything I have been fortunate enough to experience, and figure out how to incorporate what I have learned into everyday life. I will post a final wrap up of the this expansive adventure sometime before the end of the year.

Thank you for your interest, encouragement, and support over the past 7 weeks or so. You have given me purpose–a reason to track and focus my thoughts–and I am very grateful for that.

Jonathanimage

Into South America: Week 5

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With a "friendly" Cartagena cabbie.

With a “friendly” Cartagena cabbie.

When we last left off, I had just arrived for a brief stay in the walled city of Cartagena. I made the most of my day there, walking around the castle, and different parts of the city, after befriending yet another policeman who helped me get my bearings. It was so hot though. I was had by a very smooth talking Morgan Freeman look-alike who offered me a walking tour. Well we did walk, but he really didn’t tell me much (e,g. “that’s a church”). He would also walk me into places to shop where he clearly already had agreements in place, but after awhile he got the message that I wasn’t buying. He really had only one thing in his mind, and that was to see how much money he could extract from me. The whole experience was disappointing and I found him to be disingenuous and insincere, although he was very, very good at reading people.

First mate Janeiro

First mate Janeiro

I headed to the marina for about 5:30 pm to board the Gitano del Mar, a 47-foot catamaran, for five-day trip to Panama. Captain David, a Frenchman, briefly went over some rules, introduced the crew Janeiro (first mate), and Luis (cook). Fourteen passengers in all including me, all

Luis, our chef.

Luis, our chef.

early twenties to early thirties from Sweden, Great Britain, Holland, and a bunch from Australia. More on them later. Oh…and Mystico, the boxer, who lives on the boat.

imageAll our shoes were taken as we boarded because no one wears shoes on the boat, which makes sense. I did not realize then that my feet would not be dry again until five days later. There is no ice on board, or anywhere in San Blas as it turned out, so all drinks would be luke warm at best from now on. Then our main bags were stowed for the trip (we all packed and kept only a day pack for the trip), dinner was served, and we were shown our very modest quarters. I had a small space on the port side, about 2×6 feet, in a small corridor connecting to small rooms. This will be like camping on a boat, I thought. It also felt a little like being on Survivor. Part of me was also panicking, wondering how I would ever survive five days on this relatively small boat, with all these people that I have very, very little in common with.

The boat gently pulled away, all of us perched on different parts of the deck admiring the night view of Cartagena behind us, and the spectacular lightning show ahead of us, way in the distance. Then I helped the crew hoist the main sail, and we were off on our sailing voyage! I sat over the edge of the bow and noticed a bunch of glowing dots in the churning water. It was some kind of plankton apparently that glows when it’s disturbed. Really cool.

Then it started to rain a little, so we all moved to the seating/dining area in the stern. Then it rained harder and the sea got a little rougher, so we battened down the hatches. Hmm…not quite so cool now, but just another part of the adventure. I really should have taken their advice and picked up some sea sickness pills, I thought.

Then everyone started disappearing to bed, most not looking so good. I tried to go to bed as well, but could not sleep for hours. Not because I was in a tiny little bunk. Not because there was some water dripping on me. Mostly because we had sailed directly into the eye of this storm. Thunder and lightning crashed around us. The boat was rolling front to back and side to side, and crashing into huge waves. With every heave and crash, I could hear and feel the entire structure groaning, and I was sure the boat would break apart. I could hear the captain and crew screaming instructions to each other through the wind and the rain. I could also hear alarms going off every few seconds. This can’t be normal. It all felt like a movie. It was a long, scary night, but I finally drifted off, sometime in the wee hours of Thursday morning, thinking “please Jesus take the wheel.” And he did.

Things were still rough, but not so stormy the next morning. We had, in fact, sailed through a severe storm, and there were some equipment malfunctions that the crew had to cope with. The 30 knot winds were much more that the usual 5-10 on crossings over the last several months. “Like a lake,” was how our captain described the crossings of the past several months. Not today though. Everyone on board spent the second day napping, sitting quietly, and/or vomiting. But I felt some level of group cohesion kick in. Check out this clip.

Captain David

Captain David

I spotted flying fish off the bow all day long. And out of nowhere, many miles from shore, a bird landed on our boat, sat in our hands for a few minutes, and then flew off.

I still found it quite bumpy and it took time to adjust to the constant rocking and lurching of the boat. I bumped my head and fell a few times over the first day or two, but eventually started to find my sea legs. I was fortunate that I never got sick though. And once I made it through that first night, I thought I had probably weathered the worst. Another very stuffy night in the cabin, but the seas were not as rough as the first night, and I slept quite well.

Before we left, the captain had explained the “gypsy toilet,” which essentially involves hanging off the back of the boat and urinating…while the boat is moving! The toilets were not very nice places to be–tiny, basic, and smelly, but I thought there is no way in hell I will be hanging off the back of this boat! But by about day 3, I had found my balance, and was really enjoying the whole gypsy toilet experience. And also by day 3, I had figured out everyone’s name, and had connected at some level with everyone. By day 3, I could really feel a relaxed, nautical groove kicking in. Check out this clip.

Sunny skies, after weathering they storm.

Sunny skies, after weathering they storm.

We were supposed to hit the San Blas islands early on day 3 (Friday), but the crossing took us much longer than expected with a heavy head wind the entire trip. In fact, we set a record for the longest crossing in this boat…about 44 hours. We finally spotted a few birds, and then land in the early afternoon, which was so exciting. I now have a glimpse of how it must have been for sailors hundreds of years ago, who were at sea for months at a time, to finally spot land. Around 4 pm we pulled in between three small islands and dropped anchor. The clouds finally parted and the sun came out as the day wound down. And boy did we need the sun by then!image

Everyone jumped off the boat, basking in the stunning surroundings and warm sunshine. We swam to one of the islands, drank some fresh coconut milk, bought a bunch of fresh lobster, and Luis, our chef, cooked a delicious dinner. The party was going strong, but I was exhausted, so I moved to the front of the boat, away from the noise, and drifted off to sleep lying on the net between both hulls, watching the sky, a few shooting stars, and listening to the water lap gently against the boat. Magic.

IMG_0584IMG_0581We woke up to a beautiful sunny day on Saturday, and after breakfast and a quick swim, we headed off for a leisurely ride to a few more islands where we dropped anchor, swam, snorkelled around the stunning reef…all kinds of fish, even a stingray, and visited a few more islands. There are almost 400 islands that make up San Blas which run along much of the Caribbean side of the Panamanian coast. They are owned and inhabited by the Kuna Indonesian people, part of Panama, but with some cultural independence, and very different from mainland Panamanians. Some islands are small enough to fit a single coconut tree, others might take you 5 or 10 minutes to walk the perimeter.

Greeted by the Kuna

Greeted by the Kuna

imageSome of our gang swam over to a nearby island and spent the day there. I had proposed to our captain and passengers that we give the entire crew the evening off, and that we eat “out” at one of the nearby islands. Everyone loved the idea, so off we went for a traditional Kuna dinner of lobster and tuna. We ate, drank, toasted the crew, and enjoyed each other’s company. And the crew were thrilled with some time off, with Luis saying at one point that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

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A side note again about coconuts (yes I know I seem to be quite obsessed with them). I have mentioned that I have often wondered how many people die every year from falling coconuts. Well, walking around that Kuna island today, a big heavy coconut fell from a tree only about 10 feet away from me! Definitely not the way I want to go!image

Everyone since day 1 had been putting on their music at different times…some really good stuff I had never heard before which was fun. I hadn’t bothered putting any of my own stuff on. But I did have a few ideas brewing as we headed back to the boat on that 4th night, and a few people had learned of my musical background and asked me to play that night. So I came out of DJ retirement for a few hours Saturday night, and I rocked the boat! A wild party ensued with everyone screaming, dancing, and laughing, well into the wee hours. I felt another groove kick in as passengers and crew saw a different side of me that perhaps they had not imagined. And it was fun for me to let that side of me run wild for awhile. Got my MoJo workin’ now.

One side note about Australians…I had heard how they like to party, but this bunch of Ozzie blokes were wild, wild men. I had no idea. It reminded me of some of my younger days. I can’t and don’t want to run like that anymore, but it was very interesting to observe, and “gently” partake.

To bead or not to bead...

To bead or not to bead…

The trip was supposed to end Sunday afternoon, but because the crossing had taken so long, the captain offered to extend it to Monday morning which was very kind. Sunday morning the weather was looking threatening again, and we were moving early while everyone slept. Well, mostly everyone. We dropped anchor next to a small island with a tiny landing strip that serves as a Panamanian immigration for San Blas. Our bleary-eyed, rag-tag crew all marched in, got our passports stamped, and swam or dinghied back to the boat where we continued out magical mystery tour of San Blas. We dropped anchor between two new islands surrounded by reef, went snorkelling (with small sharks!), swam, and relaxed for the rest of the day, with many of our group napping and nursing very sore heads. The crew worked for hours to put on a special final dinner for us: seafood ceviche appetizer, followed by fish tacos and sushi made with fresh caught tuna! Captain David spun a few very cool tunes, the crew picked up their percussion instruments and started to groove, and Luis and I had an impromptu little jam session.

For the final night of the trip, we had made arrangements to have a bonfire on the island next to us and meet up with passengers and crew from another boat, as well as the local Kuna inhabitants. Check out this clip of captain David showing off his great balls of fire!

imageI was hoping for a quiet night to try to catch up on sleep and be ready for a big travel day on Monday, but it was not to be. The Ozzies had arranged a rum run to restock, and had every intention of going out with a bang. So I stopped resisting the flow and just went with it. And I was very, very touched when back on board they had all got together and decided I was “Best On Vessel,” and made a big show of announcing it. And then it felt like the generation gap narrowed a whole bunch. I heard lots of “Good on ya, John-o!” This was followed many shaking of hands, slaps on shoulders, hugging, more music and singing, and general all around merriment until the wee hours, as the lightning rumbled around the night sky.

Another thing I noticed repeatedly about the Ozzies, or at least this group of lads anyway…they laugh easily, whole heartedly, and often. I loved their sense of humour and would spend hours enjoying their banter. Often very crude, but always very sharp, witty, and very clever. I found it to be quite entertaining, and really enjoyed listening to the banter.

IMG_0572Overall the experience was very challenging (mentally and physically), cramped, stuffy, hot, smelly, basic, loud, wet, and potentially dangerous if you do not have your wits about you, particularly during the 30-45 hour crossing. It is not a trip for everyone. But it was also awe inspiring, exciting, expansive, and peaceful. I loved all of it, on so many levels, and it is without a doubt a trip I will never forget. I did not completely click or connect with everybody, but I did with many, at different points on the journey. With some the connection happened early in the trip, some right at the end. And some not really in any meaningful way. Sometimes it’s just not meant to be. But the intention and the effort was there. The trip forced me wide open, perhaps more open and flexible than I have ever been.

The whole island hopping part of the trip was fun and beautiful, and they are certainly quite unique. Many people have referred to San Blas as paradise on earth. I would not characterize them this way, although I’m not sure I would recognize paradise if I found it. Lots more soul searching to do on this clearly.

A final note regarding our crew. Although I have nothing to compare them to, I have heard horror stories about bad and incompetent captains and/or crew on other crossings. Captain David, Janeiro, and Luis were superb. Flexible and professional and always looking for ways to improve the experience for the passengers. I was really, really impressed with these guys and am very grateful for everything they did. I am also grateful to all the passengers who shared their week with me and made it such a memorable trip. Check out this clip from Captain David.

imageMonday morning we packed up quickly, said out goodbyes to the crew, and were picked up by another boat to the mainland where we were met by a few SUVs for the hilly and quite spectacular 3-hour drive to Panama City, where we all dispersed to various hostels. In my case, I continued on to the bus station, in a bit of a daze, where I continued on another 5 hours to the Azuero peninsula in South Panama, finally stopping in Las Tablas. I started my day on the Caribbean and ended my day on the Pacific Ocean, or very close to it. But I felt really tired and travel weary on this day.

Woke up Tuesday morning in Las Tablas feeling like death warmed over and still had wobbly sea legs. What the hell am I doing here, I thought, a feeling that comes over me every few days since I have been on the road. I did not feel good about this place, and I felt like a fish out of water, and that people were looking at me funny. But I suspect it had little to do with the town, and everything to do with me. As I am, so is the world. That lesson is becoming clear.

After a shave and shower, I felt a little more human and decided to continue South to Pedasi to get closer to the ocean. With the help of a few locals, I found a “collectivo” (mini bus) nearby. I know I must have looked like I needed help at that point, and the Canada flag on my bag didn’t hurt. I crammed into the hot bus with all my stuff and about 15 other locals and after about 20 minutes, off we went. I tried to wait outside the bus until we were ready to leave, but I was able to somehow figure out from the driver that it doesn’t work like that. You have to be in your seat or risk losing it if someone else takes it. A little strange. It was only a short trip to Pedasi, and I am happy to say, after five weeks, I have finally landed in a quaint little chill beach town of only about 2,000 people! I stayed at Dim’s, a really nice, clean hostel opposite a grocery store and a tourism agency. Perfect! There are many quality restaurants and shops, and quite a large Canadian and American community here.

imageAfter quickly settling in at Dim’s, I popped into Smiley’s, a decent looking restaurant right next door for a quick bite. They had a full musical set up, and an older dude was fiddling with the sound board, so I asked him if he was leader of the band. “Do you play,” he asked. “No…but I sing,” I replied. Then he asked me to sing with the band, who just happened to be playing that very night. And that’s exactly what I did! We performed a couple of songs together, including the slinkiest, coolest, most laid back versions of Honky Tonk Woman I have ever done. And zero rehearsal time with these guys. I just dropped right into their groove, and let it rip. A very talented bunch of guys who play so loosely, yet are so tight! It was a pleasure to share a stage with them, and I was thrilled to have the opportunity. From feeling crappy in the morning, to singing with a bunch of locals in Pedasi…I certainly could not have predicted this day. You never know what’s around the corner.

‘Til next week,

Jonathan

With Smiley's House Band...what a night!

With Smiley’s House Band…what a night!

Into South America: Week 4

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image When I signed off last week, one of my biggest frustrations was not being able to speak the language. So certainly one of my biggest giggles this past week was being asked at a cafe to be a translator between the cashier and an Australian couple…OMG…the irony!! But I managed to help them. I have also been complemented on my Spanish accent which I find very hard to believe.

Wednesday I spent the day getting my tooth reconstructed by a very good dentist in Medellin (pronounced medajeen), and getting to know the area of El Poblado. Very hip and modern part of the city, with lots of beautiful hotels, restaurants and shops. Very first world, and they know what they’re doing. I also switched hostels, moving right next door for half the price. I had heard of another spot, the Black Sheep Hostel run by a New Zealander, so made arrangements to move there for Thursday and Friday. It’s a very popular spot with young people…so I fit right in (well sort of, not really)! They had a tour going out Thursday, so a signed up for that.

With Rafael

With Rafael

There was an interesting mix of Canadians, Americans, British, Australian, and Dutch. All early twenties. We all piled into a big blue bus, led by Rafael, a local 30-something dude. He and I looked at each other and connected, an immediate transfer of powerful positive energy that was way beyond language. Lots more to say about him.

A troubled bridge over water, in Guatapa

A troubled bridge over water, in Guatapa

The destination for the day was Guatape, about two hours North East of Medellin. But as it turned out, the destination didn’t really matter. There was strong positive energy on that bus right from the get go…singing, dancing, and laughing all the way (ha, ha, ha). Check out this video from about 1 hour in. Samuel, a young musician jumped on the bus and played some tunes for us for awhile. We then jumped off a rickety bridge, that was certainly higher than it looked, at least to me when I was preparing to jump. Check out this clip.

imageThen we arrived at Guatape and climbed a HUGE rock (740 stairs to the top!), that looks like it has absolutely no business being there. About half way up there is a statue of the Virgin Mary. There is a Spanish sign on her that reads “please don’t touch the virgin,” which I thought was very funny, although I was too tired to laugh at the time. imageAfter the climb Raffy prepared a home-made picnic lunch for us. On the way back we stopped at a few quaint little towns along the way. I also got to chat with Raffy about all kinds of things: the people of Colombia, drug wars, how Pablo Escobar basically ran the country, how that was solved, and how the solution may be worse than problem, why most women here get boob and/or lip and/or other cosmetic surgery, and much more. Raffy has no formal education, but is a very wordly wise man. He spent about 10 years travelling South America in his teens and twenties, before settling down and having kids. This has given him a perspective on life and people that no school can ever teach you. At the end of the tour, Raffy invited me to join him the next day to visit the central market and run some errands, so of course I accepted. This turned out to be an incredibly rich day, beyond anything I could have ever predicted.

He picked me up this morning and we toured the central market, a very different experience because I was with a local. Some random dude stopped and wanted to talk to me…he saw that I wan’t local and was interested. Great chat with him about life and people of Colombia. Had lunch there, and then a massive wind and rain and thunder and lightning storm hit. They say they haven’t seen this kind of rain in 20 years. One of the waitresses thought I was Santa Clause. Now, I realize I have a slightly bigger belly than when I left Canada, but Santa Clause? Seriously? Although I remain a gringo, so far it feels a little different in Colombia…many more people seem interested in the fact that I am not from there.

Pancho gringo

Pancho gringo

Then he invited me to his place for the night. I hesitated at first…the unknown…but then figured I could not experience life in Colombia in a better way, and simply could not say no. So we picked up his wife, one of his kids, and drove about an hour up and through the mountains to his place, where I spent the night. He has a small hostel of his own there, right next to where he lives with his wife and kids. We spent the evening chatting, having a few drinks, listening to music, and enjoying each other’s company, high in the mountains, with a spectacular view of the full moon and lightning storms rumbling around in the distance. I will always remember his kindness and generosity of spirit. Here’s a short clip.

Saturday, Raffy drove me back to the hostel where I packed up and headed to the airport for a quick hop to Santa Marta on the North coast. I had booked a few days earlier with Viva Colombia, a local discount airline. Although the entire experience from buying tickets to boarding is a bit of a shit show, it turned out to be a very lively flight. I got the sense that very few of these folks had flown before, and most of the 200+ on board seemed to be having the time of their lives, finishing the flight with a raucous round of applause. It was surprisingly refreshing, so much so that I almost didn’t mind all the kids crying and screaming, and being treated like cattle.

imageI was in a window seat next to a small boy and his mum (Jennifer). The husband was sitting two rows up. It was clearly a thrill to be flying for both of them, so I offered them the window seat, and suggested ways for them to deal with the pressure change. I also gave the small boy a Canada pin. (As a side note, I always travel with these now…people everywhere really appreciate this small gift, and you can get a bunch for free from your local MP office). Once the husband (John Freddy) got wind of this, he was so happy and appreciative…you’d think I’d bought him a house! He kept shaking my hand and thanking me. Then he wanted to take a bunch of pictures as we were heading for the exits. We were holding everyone up, but no one seemed to mind, and seemed to be as happy and excited about all this as he was!

I seem to be surrounded by lots of positive energy lately, especially the last few days, and everywhere I go it seems. Not sure how or why, but something is definitely happening. Maybe it’s the full moon.

Feeling more comfortable and confident, I decided to take the bus from the airport, and save some money to boot. Beautiful drive at sunset along the coast. I showed the driver the address and he told me where to get off about 20 minutes later. So out I went, quite proud of myself, walking up and down 21st street, but could not find the hostel. Turns out he let me off in the wrong city! Santa Marta was another 20 minutes up the road! Bad man….apparently they often do this to save time and money. With the help of a friendly local, I hopped a cab to Santa Marta.

I was greeted at the Aluna hotel by Luis, who was reading the bible. When I told him my name was Jonathan, he looked at the bible, and then again at me, and made a connection. Not sure if he caught it when I jokingly tried to explain that Jonathan means “gift from God.” Beautiful little hotel, run by Patrick, an Irishman. These Irish seem to be everywhere! Very peaceful and orderly place though. They clearly care about their clients and surroundings, and I love that. It doesn’t matter to me how fancy it is, as long as someone cares.

Santa Marta is a fairly big town of about 700,000. Geographically it’s a very interesting spot where mountains, beach, and jungle meet. So far, very good vibe in this town, but it’s really hot and humid. And on my first night here, I had the best meal of my trip, and perhaps the best fish dish I have ever had. I think it was sea bass, with an interesting combination of veggies…contrasting yet complementary flavours. And mercifully, no rice. At $13, it was expensive compared to what I have become accustomed to the last few weeks, but cheap compared to what you pay at home. I don’t usually write much about food, but this meal was exquisite. I also tried a new drink…beer, rum, sugar, and lime, with salt around the rim. I am not much of a beer drinker anymore, but this drink was delicious and totally refreshing!

Sunday I made the journey into the national park, Tayrona…tropical rainforest, snow-capped mountains and hugged by the Caribbean Sea. The journey started with a cab ride with Irving, the cabbie. We were at a very busy intersection waiting to turn left. There was a guy on a motorbike ahead of us, in the middle of the intersection, on the phone, completely oblivious to everyone around him. “Idiota,” I said (I had learned that with Raffy). Well, Irving roared with laughter for the next five minutes, like this was the funniest thing he had ever heard! Then a 90-minute bus ride in a local “collectivo” to the entrance of the park. Then a short ride in a jam-packed mini bus to where the hike in would begin. Here is a short clip.

imageA fairly easy hike I guess by most standards, but I found it quite tough through the jungle in the 45 Celsius heat. Eventually the trail led to the Atlantic Ocean (dangerous, not swimmable), and continued North along the coastline to Cabo San Juan…about 2 hours hike in total. The trail and park and ocean…all stunning. But the experience was marred for me by the people who work in the park…from the ticket person at the front gate, to the shuttle drivers, to the restaurant staff in Cabo. They are all fully aware that they are the only game in town and treat the visitors with complete indifference. But I did enjoy the surroundings, and when I finally arrived at swimmable beaches, they were magnificent. Beach, jungle, and mountains…all in one spot. I wondered again, as I have many times before when looking up at palm trees: how many people die each year from coconuts falling on their heads? I think I must have been quite delirious.

Lots of young folk here from all over the world. Most people camp in the park or rent a hammock. I was not in the mood to stay overnight, but neither was I looking forward to hiking all the way back for the return journey. So I was very happy when I discovered that I could take a high speed boat back from Cabo to Taranga, close to Santa Marta. The 4 pm departure didn’t leave til 5, and the boat crew were rude and condescending. Again…the only game in town, and they knew it. During the trip back, I tried to push all that negativity away and enjoy the bumpy ride and the spectacular scenery as we made our way West along the wild coastline. Big, fast, safe looking boat, but I was a little concerned when the old dude in the front whose job was to hold the anchor in place and watch the water made the father/son/Holy Ghost sign as we were leaving. But watching the crew do their thing, I did end up appreciating their expertise, even though I had trouble shaking this heavy energy. When we arrived at Taranga, even the dogs picked up on it and were barking madly at me. Very rare, that. Even rarer that I barked back.

I am annoyed with myself that I allowed other people to affect my park experience.

With Luis, like we have been friends forever.

With Luis, like we have been friends forever.

I finally made it back to Aluna Hostel, and was greeted again by Luis, this time very warmly. Not that he was cold before, but something shifted, and it felt like we were old friends. A beautiful spirit, he has. I told him of some of the day’s frustrations and he apologized on behalf of Colombians. He then said ” tu es un persona mas elegante” (or something like that). I was surprised because I certainly did not feel very elegant. But certainly an nstant energy shift. I then ventured out into the town, which was very quiet compared to the night before. Everything was closed and most of the streets were very quiet. I had a quick bite at a cafe I had discovered the night before…another beautiful meal…fresh, exquisitely prepared shrimp ceviche, and the best mojito I have ever had.

Also ran into a young man staying at the same hostel who was just on the Panama-Colombia sail boat crossing. And on the same catamaran I will be on in three days. And at the park today, I ran into a young woman who was on the Ecuadorian jungle tour with me a week or so ago. What are the odds?

On Monday I decided to head to Minca to visit a coffee operation in the mountains. After a short cab ride to the market I found the SUV headed to Minca. I sat around for about 20 minutes with two other people, and with no sign that we were leaving, I lost patience and got up to leave. Then there was some action, and agreed to pay a little more to leave right away (a gringo surcharge?). I learned that if you behave like a wallflower here, you will be ignored.

With Louis and our two very good bike drivers.

With Louis and our two very good bike drivers.

I met a young guy from France who was going to the same place, and he could speak Spanish, so we joined forces and spent the rest of the day together. After 45 minutes up the mountain in an SUV, then another 20 on the back of a motorbike on a very bad road (imagine the, err, challenges with my ongoing intestinal problems?) we finally arrived in one piece. The scenery on the way up was spectacular as we climbed into the clouds, through massive bamboo and other trees. And the air was pure and much more comfortable.

Great coffee farm tour with Jaime...bean there!

Great coffee farm tour with Jaime…bean there!

Then a very interesting and private tour of the coffee facility, where the whole 6-day process was explained, from harvesting to washing, cleaning, drying, and roasting. Made me wonder again, not for the first time, who could possibly have initially figured this out thousands of years ago. Our guide, Jaime, said that legend has it that it started in Ethiopia. Some farmers noticed cows eating the berries and then acting strangely. So they got rid of the berries by throwing them into the fire. And then noticed how good it smelled. I have no idea if this is true, but it sounds plausible.

Then it started to rain and we still had to go back down by bike which worried me. They were good drivers, but still…the road was very bad, and now getting slick and very wet. I was anxious, but at a certain point I started saying to myself “Jesus take the wheel.” And I guess he did.

imageStopped for lunch (the dogs were MUCH friendlier today) and then coffee, and listened to Louis chat up a young Dutch woman running the coffee shop on the science of sex. A long chat. Ahhh…the French! He also told me a little trick he uses to help travelling intestinal issues…he drinks a bottle a day, and swears it kills everything! And I’m ready to try almost anything! Then a long drive back by car this time, spending about an hour driving down the rest of the mountain in 1st gear!

Then back to the hostel where I chatted with Patrick the Irish owner we had been here for about 14 years. He explained how things used to be in Colombia: government, drug cartels, guerillas, how thousands of people were murdered, and how the clean up process began. I still find it quite incredible how quickly Colombia has gone from very dangerous to very livable.

Overall, Santa Marta is chaotic, dirty, poor, and by and large the people are not as open and friendly as other parts of the country. It’s also very loud everywhere, like everyone is desperate to be heard. When I am not well rested, I find it quite draining. And the oppressive heat takes its toll on me. I get the expression “crazy from the heat.” It must also have long-term affects on the people who live here. But almost without exception when I had the energy and patience to push through all that, I could feel temperaments and attitudes changing for the better, and overall I really quite enjoyed them. Despite all the issues I ran into, I don’t regret coming here.

Tuesday I left Santa Marta for the 4+ hour bus ride West to Cartagena where I will begin a five-day sailing trip by catamaran to Panama, through the famous San Blas islands. I met with captain David Tuesday night, and honestly I’m not quite sure what I have gotten myself into here. They are all 20 something, and I am definitely the oldest by far. Not sure how relaxing it will be, but I suppose I must approach this like another adventure. I must keep an open mind. The French captain seemed to be a bit scattered at first, but I chatted with him and feel he is competent, and we connected in French. No real opinion yet on Cartagena…feeling my usual discombobulation when I first arrive somewhere new. And I have arrived here at Carnival time so everything is louder and more insane than usual. I have already been bumped by a bunch of prostitutes who tried to pickpocket me, but I was ready for them. Sorry ladies…not this gringo.

‘Til then,

Jonathan

image

Into South America: Week 3

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imageI keep thinking my updates will be brief, but so far it is not to be. It would appear I have a few things to say! Here’s another long one, but if you don’t feel like reading, you may want to focus on some of the cool pics and videos.

If week 2 was slow and relaxed beach time, week 3 has been the complete opposite. On the move through the Andes as I made my way North towards the Colombian border crossing. When I updated last week, I talked about loud and inconsiderate people. Well the universe has certainly given me a big dose of noise this week. Wednesday we continued through the mountains, and arrived in Banos. We checked into a clean hostel on the main square. The next morning at 6:45 am, a 7-piece band began playing, right below my hostel window! And not even a good band at that! This was followed by fireworks and other explosions. Friday and Saturday mornings, it was parades and fireworks. Sunday, no parades, but a tremendous amount of activity and door slamming and alarms going off beginning at 6 am. Now I just have to laugh, because the universe is evidently sending me a message. What it is ain’t exactly clear, but I can certainly hear it!

I am usually pretty good at going with the flow, but sometimes I get edgy or anxious when things are not going to plan. Little things, like waiting 15 minutes for coffee in the morning, or having a 7-piece band outside my window, or things being consistently done ass backwards (I know….suspend judgment), or how complicated things get if you ask for something a little different. I keep having to remind myself that I’m not in Kansas anymore, that everything moves at a different speed, and that they have their own ways of doing things. I have to keep reminding myself that I do not necessarily create the flow; rather I must simply allow myself to connect to it, whatever and wherever it is. My work in progress continues.

Banos, at the base of an active Volcano

Banos, at the base of an active Volcano

The trip through the mountains into Banos was another very cool drive, in, through, and around various peaks and valleys. Because of the rich, volcanic soil, there are many vertical farms actually running up the mountain/volcano sides. Banos is at about 6,000 feet nestled into a valley, at the base of the active Turgurahua volcano. Really orderly, friendly, safe-feeling little town where people take pride in their surroundings. Lots of stuff to do here…rafting, biking, hang gliding, zip lining, bungee jumping, natural volcano fed hot springs, waterfalls, jungle trips, etc.

Thursday turned out to be one of the best days I have had in a very long time. I took a jungle tour around Puyo, about 90 minutes east of Banos, where the mountains end and the jungle begins. This is also where the rivers from Ecuador (and also Peru, and Colombia) flow into Brazil to form the Amazon River, which then flows out to the Atlantic. Interesting facts about the Amazon River…it is about 6,400 km. long, and used to flow in the opposite direction (from East to West) before the formation of the Andes/Sierra mountains, thousands of years ago.image

imageOur guide, Ruma (whose real name was Richard I found out later…never quite understood this) spent 20 years living in the jungle with no electricity or running water. This dude really was the king of the jungle in every sense of the word. Our first stop was a rescued animal sanctuary…lots of monkeys who had been rescued from various situations. They are so very human when you study them carefully. One took a special interest in me and we stared at each other for awhile, then he curled up and covered his eyes, which I thought was quite rude!

Muddied, with Simon

Muddied, with Simon

Then a 45-minute hike into the jungle. Ruma would stop every few minutes and show us things. For example, leaves when you crumple them release a substance that helps asthma. Or mud from a river bank that is good for the skin. I asked him what he might suggest for a cut on my leg. He walked up to a tree, sliced the bark, collected the resin, and rubbed it on my cut. They refer to it as sangue de dragone (dragon’s blood). He also showed us a very different looking tree (the Devil’s Penis) that can actually move itself several feet in any direction by extending its above-ground roots!

imageWe arrived at a secluded mountain waterfall and pool (Ola Vida). I have never seen anything like it…simply breathtaking. I jumped in, and then under the waterfall until I was behind it. I looked up and could see the water falling just in front of me. I looked down and saw a rainbow. imageI looked through and I could see a misty version of the outside world. In some meditations and therapy, they talk about going to your safe place. This waterfall oasis will be that place for me.

With then king of the jungle, Ruma (or Richard?)

With then king of the jungle, Ruma (or Richard?)

We hiked back, then to the Puyo River, and got into these long wooden canoe-type boats and rafted for about 45 minutes through some very active water. The boat guides maneuvered them expertly using only long sticks, around some very treacherous and rocky stretches. But it was very peaceful, and it makes me want to take a bigger trip down the Amazon in Peru or Brazil. Check out this video.

imageWe then stopped for lunch and climbed up to a lookout where there was a swing that went right off the side of a cliff. Freaking terrifying! I wasn’t going to do it, but I watched the others and decided I did not want to regret not doing it. Plus I was the only Canadian, so I felt I had to swing for my country. So I did it….and what a rush! Check out this video.

Ruma, King of the jungle. Note the shirt.

Ruma, King of the jungle. Note the shirt.

Finally we visited an indigenous community where I learned to use a blow dart gun, and we learned about some of their customs and traditions. These communities are extended families, so it is not permitted to marry inside one’s own community. It is not uncommon for men to have 10-15 children with a number of partners. Ruma himself is in his mid 20s, has been “divorced” once, and already has four kids with several women. No question, he is the jungle version of a ladies’ man. Some of the girls on the tour were swooning over him, and he knew it, and was clearly used to it. And for good reason. He is also somewhat of a prankster. He coated my face with mud, and into my hair for good measure. He also offered us to taste the inside of a certain leaf, and when we asked him what it was, he told us “ants!” He seemed to have a number of side deals going on wherever we went, and had clearly bridged the gap between jungle and “civilization,” but I liked him, and he gave me a day I will never forget. I asked him what life he preferred–jungle or city, and he said without hesitation, “the jungle.” A very interesting response.

I also met a few other cool people that day. A filmmaker from Amsterdam who was shooting a documentary in Quito on gated communities, and how these are rooted in fear. And also a young drama student from London, Simon. He has been travelling the world on and off for the past several years, and his parents have finally stopped asking what he is doing with his life. It seems many of his generation are doing exactly this. Good for them. He jumped into the bus with almost nothing with him, and blissfully unaware of what we were doing that day. He reminded me of the the critical importance of being in the moment and going with the flow.

We spent the next couple of days in Banos, every morning serenaded by some form of early local entertainment outside the hotel window. Halloween night, as I walked down the street chewing on a candy, I felt a hard crunch. I had grabbed a handful of these delicious, chewy, soft, chocolate sweets from the restaurant. The crunch was not the candy, but my FILLING which had fallen out. “What the @&$? am I going to do now,” I thought. That’s what greed will get you. If I had taken only one and not made a pig of myself. Mark thought I was overreacting, and that all would be fine, but I found it quite traumatic, and had a mini meltdown. I was worried about having swallowed silver and mercury. I thought I might not make it through the night. It really is the strangest “filling,” missing half a tooth! Surprisingly, I did wake up the next morning, and it didn’t hurt. I’m getting used to it, but know I must get it looked at soon.

imageOne other note from Banos and other spots along the way. They serve a local “delicacy” called cuye, but really it is a large rat, roasted whole over hot coals, with its teeth and paws sticking up. I am usually a fairly adventurous eater, and will try almost anything, but I simply cannot bring myself to eat that! Yuck!

Another sidebar on services…generally tipping is not expected, and not part of their culture. So if you leave them anything, they are surprised and grateful. I leave modest tips for almost everything, and I can always feel a positive vibe shift. This raises a lot of thoughts in my mind about money…how people view it, what they will do for it, and what it represents. And perhaps now a different way of viewing it for me. More like a form of energy transfer.

Saturday we continued North through the mountains, past Quito, Otovallo, stopping in Ibarra for the night, a non-touristy town of about 100,000. Good vibe here. Why I keep thinking I will arrive in a tiny Ecuadorian village, I have no idea. These are mostly big cities. I am also realizing again that I don’t like big cities! I don’t mind short visits, but I really don’t want to live in one. Too much hustle and bustle and yuck.

In Ibarra with Doris and Jefferson

In Ibarra with Doris and Jefferson

Nothing was booked, so we just drove around near the main square, and happened upon this small family-run hostel. Doris and Jefferson greeted us warmly. They don’t speak much English, but somehow my musical background came up before we left for a quick bite.

..and daughters Kelly and Angie!

..and daughters Kelly and Angie!

When we came back, they were waiting to chat with us, and more of their family had joined them. I had to explain in my halting Spanish that, no I am not a famous musician but that I just like to sing! They wanted pictures anyway, and immediately said they were fans. Really very lovely people. The next morning right on cue at 6 am, slamming doors, loud voices, and lots of noise (this is not Kansas).

We hit the road again for a short hop to the border town of Tulcan. It is also about 100,000 population, and I did not get a good vibe here at all. We splurged and stayed in a very nice place for $36, and I had perhaps the best sleep I’ve had since arriving in Ecuador. This was also my final day with Mark, and we said our goodbyes. I have been so very fortunate to have met him and have really been spoiled travelling by car. I am very grateful to have toured most of the country with him, and have really enjoyed his company.

Monday morning I was up early (no band or parade!), and took a short cab ride to the Colombian border of Rumichaca. I have heard this crossing can get crazy, so I was there by about 7 am. I had my passport stamped by the Ecuadorian immigration, then simply walked across a small bridge and did the same at Colombian immigration. Easy. Too easy actually. There was nothing preventing me from simply walking across and not showing anyone my passport. Or maybe because I’m a gringo. But with no stamp out of Ecuador, and into Colombia, I would not be able to get out.

For the rest of the day I felt uneasy–new country, unfamiliar surroundings. I took a short cab ride to the bus station in Ipiales, the nearest town. The fare was 7,000 pesos (about $4). Nice, friendly cabby, but when we arrived he announced it was 10,000 for no reason I could understand (maybe because I am a gringo, or because that’s how much I gave him?). At the bus station, you have to pay to use the washroom. There is no central ticket counter, and everyone is shouting at you to buy your ticket from them. And I certainly don’t look like I’m local, so I am likely a target. A big target. Then a spectacular 90-minute bus ride through the mountains to Pasto (sit on the right side for best views). It continues to amaze me how these roads were built.

Rather than a 20-hour bus ride to Medellin, I had previously booked a flight for Tuesday, but thought I would try to get a flight that day (Monday). So rather than stay in Pasto, I headed directly to the airport. After a lot of confusion, and befriending a policeman, I learned that buses or cabs to the airport from the bus station was not possible. So I took a cab to another place where a bunch of mini buses were parked. The fare to the airport (about 45 minutes north of Pasto) was 5,000 pesos. But when I gave him 6,000, he announced that that was the fare. Note to self…don’t expect change! Annoying, and I want to argue on principal, but I guess this is how they make money and for the amount, it’s simply not worth fighting about, especially given my limited Spanish.

So far, there is definitely a different feel in Colombia. Not unsafe exactly, but as soon as I crossed over, I saw police and other armed people everywhere..in the towns, and along the roadside, in the middle of nowhere. So far it feels…unsettled…as do I.

Travelling light...

Travelling light…

At the airport I learned that it was possible to fly that day, but that it would cost me more than what I had paid for the ticket. So rather than go back to Pasto, I left the airport on foot with backpack and luggage in tow, and tried to find a place to stay for the night. What a site that must have been, I’m sure. Yes, I certainly must look local! The truth is I am a gringo, and will always be, but there are ways to break down this barrier, in time. I have written about this before…when it comes down to it, we are not all that different, regardless of background or culture. We respond to the same things. And a smile goes a long, long way in any culture.

On the road I befriended another policeman, and he pointed me in the right direction to find a hotel. I stopped at the first place I found, and took a $10 room for the night. Nothing fancy, but clean and the people seemed honest. Not really a town, but there are few hotels and restaurants along the main road. No wifi, and no banks. Note to self: always get what you need whenever it’s available, because you have no way of knowing where you will end up and what will or won’t be available when you get there. And forget about cashing traveller’s cheques. So far, impossible, even at any of the main banks in the big cities.

I dumped my stuff, locked everything up, and walked up the road and had a bite, again very much aware that I stick out like a sore thumb, and feeling everyone’s eyes on me. Then back to my room where I napped for a few hours. I wandered back out around 7:30 pm looking for another snack, but the strip of highway felt very eerie in the dark. I could feel that there were shady things going on. Anyway I found a place, and had coffee. Again I felt everyone’s eyes on me. And that can feel intimidating, especially when I am not in zone. A young man who works at the restaurant, Daniel, took a special interest in me, as did the rest of the staff. I was suspicious at first, but then it started to feel OK. I loosened up and tried to chat with him. I reminded myself again that it takes time to find the flow, or for it to find you. Flow is elusive. Be patient.

Then back to Hotel San Miguel where I flipped through the TV channels, bit my nails, worried, and finally fell asleep. I ended up sleeping alot that first day. I kept wondering what the hell I was doing here, realizing that I really am alone now, with no Mark to ease the way for me.

Deep down I know things will be OK, and that I have been and will be taken care of, but sometimes I forget. In any given moment, I will never have all the answers.

imageI woke up Tuesday to a bright sunny day, feeling refreshed and more comfortable. Everything seems different today, better somehow. I walked back to the restaurant I had found the night before and had breakfast. And this time it felt completely different. What a difference a day makes. I was very friendly and more open with Daniel and the staff, and they were all excited, laughing, and buzzing around me. imageWe even took a bunch of pictures together, all the kitchen staff giggling. As I look back on my first day in Colombia, for the most part I know I was guarded and nervous. And that’s exactly what I got back, or felt I was getting back. When I opened up, that’s exactly what I felt I got back. Funny that.

Then I packed up, and walked back to the airport for my scheduled flight to Medellin, via Bogota. Packing is a struggle every time. Too much stuff, more things to keep track of and worry about. Note to self: don’t bring so much stuff!

imageI still get a buzz of excitement every time I fly, and continue to be amazed that a big metal tube can fly through the air. Also a relatively cheap option compared to a 20+ hour bus ride!

I connected through Bogota, the capital, a large mountain-rimmed city high in the Sierra. I can’t say much else about it, but it certainly looks neat, well-designed, and green…at least from the air! Then a short hop to Medellin (population 4.5 million), a few hundred kilometres West of Bogota. The usual travel hiccups and delays, and I did find myself getting more anxious as edgy as the day wore on (maybe too much strong coffee?). And of course, the usual uneasiness when I arrive somewhere new. No doubt things will look better, and I will be more comfortable when I wake up tomorrow.

Things would have been so much easier the last few days if I could speak the language better. I have the tools…dictionaries and apps, but in the moment they are quite useless. Note to self: you must learn more Spanish!

I arrived in a section of Medellin called El Poblado, and found a boutique room at a place called Happy Buddha, which I thought sounded perfect at the end of a long travel day. Too loud and young and expensive, but it will do for the night. From the little I have seen so far, Medellin is young, chic, hip, modern, definitely has Western standards, and is far more expensive than what I have been used to the last several weeks.

More from Medellin and the rest of Colombia next week.

‘Til then,
Jonathanimage

Into South America: Week 2

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Spectacular views from Isla de Plata

Spectacular views from Isla de Plata

 

Although my updates generally paint a rosy picture, and for the most part it is, there are challenging times on the road. I struggle with anxiety, loneliness, and fear. The unknown can be a very difficult place to be. And although I talk a lot about tolerance and acceptance, that doesn’t mean that I always am. Probably the most difficult for me is being around people who are inconsiderate to others. I fucking hate that. Like the four girls staying at Balsa who got up early and stayed up late. Nothing inherently wrong with that but they talk and yell and laugh loudly together all the time, like they are the only ones here, completely oblivious that there may be other people around who are sleeping, or just want peace and quiet. Or the dog owners who let their animals crap on the beach. I realize these are not big problems in the overall scheme of things, but I do feel strongly here, and everywhere, that being considerate of others would solve many problems. The bigger goal, I know, is learning to suspend judgement. But it’s hard. Having said that, I did make an effort to understand why they were this way, sitting in the dining area on several occasions…watching, listening. I think by nature most Latin Americans are loud and expressive. And there is a certain life and joy in that. By the end it still bugged me, but not as much I suppose. I didn’t really make much of an effort to connect with them, but I tried to understand a little more.

And perhaps that is something about travel that I appreciate most. Outside of my usual element, and surrounded by strange and new things and people, forces me to become more patient, tolerant, and accepting. Maybe not always by much, but incrementally more. And that is a good thing.

With Julie who runs Balsa Surf Camp with her husband Rasti.

With Julie who runs Balsa Surf Camp with her husband Rasti.

When I updated last week, I had just arrived at Balsa Surf Camp in Montanita, located a few minutes from the party town at the North end of the beach. I cannot recommend it enough…this is magical place…and I have rarely felt this. It’s worth a little background here. Balsa is owned by Julie, a teacher from France, and Rasti, an Ecuadorian. They are both probably early thirties. Julie came to teach French in Ecuador in 2004 and met Rasti. They got married and decided to open a hostel. They bought the land and spent the next year and half in 2008/2009 building it with about 15 locals. The hostel (although it is much more than that) is beautiful in every sense of the word. Care and attention to detail is evident everywhere. Beautiful, intricate wood and stone work. Quiet music. Hammocks to relax. Good food. Environmentally and socially conscious. Rasti makes his own balsa wood surf boards, and creates wonders with all types of wood. Together, they have created a peaceful, relaxed, client-focused sanctuary. For $25 a night I had my own little cabin. It is a very special place, and a I will never forget it. I had planned to stay a couple of nights and ended up staying a week.

imageI really did not do much of anything for most of the week: swimming, surfing, body surfing, boogie boarding, walking, thinking, and sleeping. It was a restorative week. Fighting a cold (at the equator, go figure), ongoing intestinal issues and adjustments (I mistakenly took a stool softener instead of Imodium…THAT was fun!), and nursing a few minor surf injuries. I used this quiet time to try to mend. But I found it really tough at times to allow myself to just be. One minute I think I am in a perfect beach groove, the next I think I should bugger off and be doing something. But I have no timetable, no agenda, no place I have to be. Quiet time forces you to be alone with your thoughts, and that can be unsettling. And also rewarding.

At night, I would often lie in a hammock and read or write…no TV, no distractions. I slept really well. But there were mosquitoes…not the malaria kind, but still hungry. And they are much more sophisticated here. You can’t hear them buzzing around you, and you can’t feel them biting you. Smart little bastards.

And not one minute of sun for the entire week, with the exception of a day trip I took on Monday. Gray and kind of rainy, heavy, and humid the whole time. The upside? I saved a fortune in sun screen! It was actually a very good time to be there because it is low season, and not too many people. That changes significantly come December where prices go up, it’s hard to get a room, or even a meal without waiting.

With Oscar, my surf instructor.

With Oscar, my surf instructor.

The atmosphere is tolerant and laid back, and Montanita is one of the top surfing destinations in the world. The first few days I did some surf “research” and found a cool dude, Oscar, from Costa Rica. He did not push me, suggesting I wait until conditions are optimal to surf. Which I really need. By Thursday things were looking good, so out I went with very little success. Surfing is the toughest sport I have ever tried, using all kinds of muscles I don’t normally use. Out again on Friday, and this time I got up. Not gracefully or for long, but up nonetheless. I had planned to do about an hour a day, but after hurting my back on the second day, that would be it for me for surfing. I was content to body surf and boogie board for my remaining days, and caught some really great waves.

Toward the end of each day I would wander down the beach to a really cool beachside patio called Dharma Beach Hotel, watching the waves and surfers. Man, the good ones are so graceful, and make it look so easy. I think Dharma is owned by a famous DJ. Everytime I walked in off the beach, they had this chill house music thumping softly in the background…nice funky, low key groove. The servers are friendly. They burn incense, serve nice food. And they make a great 2 for 1 Mojito!

With my Argentinian friends Santiago, Lucas, and Gonzalo.

With my Argentinian friends Santiago, Lucas, and Gonzalo.

It was here on Thursday I think that I met three very cool surfer dudes from Argentina…Lucas, Santiago, and Gonzalo. Very bright, funny, engaging, and real. I really connected right away with two in particular…Santiago and Lucas. We talked politics, education, the environment, sports hooligans, problems in our respective countries, love, and life. We would meet towards the end of each day on the hotel beach patio. They are 30 something guys who go on surf trip every year together. I have a strong feeling we will remain in touch.

Santiago said something interesting about the ocean: “I am not afraid of the waves, but I respect them.” That is absolutely how you have to approach surfing, and the ocean in general. And for me the message was even more relevant. After hurting my back on the second surf day, and my elbow boogie boarding, and sitting on top of a few very big waves and looking down, I am sure that was the ocean’s way of warning me to be careful. Although the waves in Montanita are great for all levels of surfers, it is still the ocean, and Mother Nature is always in charge. I hear you, ocean, and I am listening.

I also learned something about riptides as well. When waves crash and the water travels up the shore, that water eventually travels back to the sea. When there is a break in a sandbar for example, that water can get funnelled together, creating a strong, narrow current back to the sea. The beach patrol told me that rip current can be particularly strong when the tide is receding, which makes sense.

Monday was my final full day, so I decided to do some sightseeing. I took a tour to Isla de Plata (silver island), so named because of the colour of the bird poo when it rains looks silver. After a 45-minute drive North to Puerto Lopez, we took an hour or so boat to the island which is about 37 km. away. There was about 16 of us in the boat, mostly Dutch. Maybe it was me or them, or the situation, but I hardly connected with anyone until the end of the day. The boat stopped about midway, and a few humpback wales pulled up alongside the boat to say hi! Beautiful, majestic creatures, and we were so lucky to see them.

imageAs we anchored near the island, several massive sea turtles surrounded the boat…so curious they were! The island, a protected national park of about eight square km, is desolate. There is absolutely nothing there. I felt like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Oh…and finally the sun came out for awhile. After a week of gray, it felt so nice on my skin. But even with partial sun and lots of protection, I almost burned.

Some people call Isla de Plata a mini version of the Galapagos. It is home to many species of lizards, birds, sea lions, and other animals. But the island is probably best known for a very particular type of bird…wait for it…the booby! This next segment will reveal my sometimes infantile sense of humour, so I apologize in advance.

imageWithout question, the funniest and most memorable part of the day was the search for the boobys. I appeared to be the only one on the tour to find this funny. Maybe it was my sense of humour, or maybe because I was the only English speaking person there (yes of course it must have been that). Anyway, the guide, in all seriousness, kept saying (in English, with a very distinctive Spanish accent) things like: “now we will find some boobys.” OMG…it was freakin’ PRICELESS! We saw more boobys than I have ever seen before, certainly in one day. We saw big boobys, small boobys, single boobys, and even a really nice pair of boobys! No wonder so many men visit this island! I never really got over the hilarity of it all, but the birds themselves are pretty cool–inquisitive and unafraid. And they are real posers as well. Hope you enjoy some of these very up close and personal photos of boobys.

A pair of boobys.

A pair of boobys.

It has been a wonderful stay here, and it was very hard to leave magic of Balsa, but now I feel ready to move on. So Tuesday I was on an early morning bus to Guayaquil where I met up again with Mark the Irishman. Guayaquil is big, dirty, and not particularly safe from what I have heard, so the least amount of time I can spend here, the better. He and I walked around the central area for awhile, and then headed North-East, through the Andes mountains (avenue of the volcanoes) about four hours to Riobamba. It is at about 9,000 feet altitude and is, or at least I thought it was, home to the famous Devil’s Nose train which through an impressive engineering feat, is able to drop/climb 500 metres in a relatively short distance. Anyway, the train actually leaves about 100 km. south of Riobamba, back where we had just come from, so no train ride for me…this time. Nice town, but not a particularly memorable night at the hostel.

Running out of gas in the Andes mountain? Not when Mark has a spare tank!

Running out of gas in the Andes mountain? Not when Mark has a spare tank!

My final thoughts of the week concern the whole issue of connecting, which I suppose I am more aware of in these unfamiliar surroundings: sometimes you connect with a person, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes right away. Other times it may take awhile. But when I travel, I somehow feel that I must try to connect with everybody, which is particularly hard for an introvert like me. But I realize that I can’t always connect with everybody, and I need to learn to be OK with that, while not forgetting the importance of trying. All the people I have met and enjoyed so far happened because I pushed myself to make an effort, even though it was not always comfortable. Connecting and finding the flow in a new place or situation often takes time. And I must remember to be patient with myself.

The journey continues…til next week.

Jonathanimage