In case any of you were wondering.
I actually got back two weeks ago, but couldn't be bothered to recount my experiences yet again to another group of people in my heavily compartmentalised social network.
It was good. At times very good. Never quite sublime, my present mental state would not permit that. But nonetheless it was a highly memorable experience.
I'll give you a quick rundown of the countries I visited.
Atlanata: I didn't have time to do anything in my night here because the airport security detained me. The lady at the arrival check in took one look at my surname, and knew I was probably some crazy Jihad foreigner, who had an illegal British passport, and was coming to Atlanta to comit some unprecidented terrorist attack. Seriously, she became suspicious of me because my surname doesn't look English (it is in fact Iranian, I am a quarter Iranian, a quarter Azeri and half English), so sent me to some interrogation office for crazy terrorists and turban-bandits who wear stupid cloths round their head, eat semtex for breakfast and shout stuff in some funny language before blowing themselves up, cos' that's all we do, us Arabs. I heard them talking about me, saying I was of Iranian lineage, and might hold certain ideologies. I was furious at the whole thing, but they let me go after a few hours, because I appeared innocent. If they had any sense they would have shot me then and there, cos' us Arabs are crazy and can't be trusted. Next time I'll take my flying carpet.
Mexico:Huge, but slightly disappointing. My anti malaria medication was giving me funny dreams, and making me anxious. I got sick at one point, and didn't eat for days. My travelling buddy went home after a week, upon learning that his grandad had died. Leaving me all by myself. I was slightly relieved actually, as he tended to sit around all day like an inert slug. Although he's one of my best friends, I really learned how much of a nerd he can be. He wanted to spend more time in Mexico City so we could visit Frieda Khalo's house, she had a mono brow and a moustache, that's all I need to know.
Anyway travelling by oneself is an incredible experience. Usually there are other travellers about, so you don't get too lonely. Often you travel with them for three or four days. There were times when I'd arrive in some remote town all by myself, and suddenly feel very dp'ed, but once I found a hostel and some other travellers, I'd begin to feel better. It never ceases to amaze me how well I can coninue to function in spite of my inner mental state.
Belize: Very nice, English speaking and very Caribbean. Spent a week on a paradise island staying with an islander who ran a small hostel. I watched quite a few people come and go at that place, and it began to feel like home. I had plenty of laughs here. The culture clash I witnessed when an islander tried to sweet talk a reserved German woman, was truly cringe worthy.
Guatemala: Beautiful, this was real Maya land, albeit in an opressed colonial form. Saw some amazing jungle cloaked ruins here, real Indianna Jones stuff. Also did some truly thrilling caving, with nothing but candles to light the way.
El Salvador: Didn't spend much time here, I might have seen a dead person in San Salvador.
Honduras: Didn't spend much time here either.
Nicaragua: Wanted to spend more time here, the lake looked amazing.
Costa Rica: The most Americanised of the countries, but still beautiful. Went on a three day hike in what is the greatest wilderness in Central America. It is also, square metre for square metre, the most biologically diverse place on the planet. Saw plenty of wildlife. My most thrilling encounter was with a pack of wild boars, who are supposedly the most dangerous animals in the region. It was a real Jurassica Park moment actually. I was hiking on my own out of season, so there were literally no other people in the region. I was strollign down the path, when there they were grinding their teeth at me, ready to attack if I made any form of moevement. I gazed in horror as more came out of the bushes around me, at least forty. I stood still for a good five minutes before they stopped grinding their teeth and trotted off.
Panama:The last country I visited. By now it was the dead season for travellers, so I ended up on an island off the East coast alone except for the frankly scary islanders. I was staying in hotel, which consisted of a few rooms on stilts on the water, very ramshackle. The first night, an islander who I'd been speaking to earlier that day, and who I had told where I was staying, broke in with a bunch of guys and started banging on my door asking for money. Fortunately I only had a couple of dollars on me, which seemed to satisfy him. What's funny was that at the time I was more scared of how dp'ed and spaced out I felt, seeing as he had woken me up in the middle of the night, than of the imediate physical threat, which I was completely indifferent to.
I actually completely ran out of money before I got to San Jose airport for my return flight. So I could not pay the departure tax. At first the airport staff said that there was nothing they could do for me. This was the first time that I was actually worried. The threat posed by shady characters, robbers and wild animals is nothing compared to the inevitable, ultimate authority of the establisment, when it antagonises your own intentions. Anyway after some negotiating in broken Spanish, they let me through without paying the tax.
There is something incredibly romantic about travelling by oneself, especially when you are young, the older travellers tended not to be as adventurous. I'm twenty now, and intend to do a whole lot more travelling before I become too old.
I actually got back two weeks ago, but couldn't be bothered to recount my experiences yet again to another group of people in my heavily compartmentalised social network.
It was good. At times very good. Never quite sublime, my present mental state would not permit that. But nonetheless it was a highly memorable experience.
I'll give you a quick rundown of the countries I visited.
Atlanata: I didn't have time to do anything in my night here because the airport security detained me. The lady at the arrival check in took one look at my surname, and knew I was probably some crazy Jihad foreigner, who had an illegal British passport, and was coming to Atlanta to comit some unprecidented terrorist attack. Seriously, she became suspicious of me because my surname doesn't look English (it is in fact Iranian, I am a quarter Iranian, a quarter Azeri and half English), so sent me to some interrogation office for crazy terrorists and turban-bandits who wear stupid cloths round their head, eat semtex for breakfast and shout stuff in some funny language before blowing themselves up, cos' that's all we do, us Arabs. I heard them talking about me, saying I was of Iranian lineage, and might hold certain ideologies. I was furious at the whole thing, but they let me go after a few hours, because I appeared innocent. If they had any sense they would have shot me then and there, cos' us Arabs are crazy and can't be trusted. Next time I'll take my flying carpet.
Mexico:Huge, but slightly disappointing. My anti malaria medication was giving me funny dreams, and making me anxious. I got sick at one point, and didn't eat for days. My travelling buddy went home after a week, upon learning that his grandad had died. Leaving me all by myself. I was slightly relieved actually, as he tended to sit around all day like an inert slug. Although he's one of my best friends, I really learned how much of a nerd he can be. He wanted to spend more time in Mexico City so we could visit Frieda Khalo's house, she had a mono brow and a moustache, that's all I need to know.
Anyway travelling by oneself is an incredible experience. Usually there are other travellers about, so you don't get too lonely. Often you travel with them for three or four days. There were times when I'd arrive in some remote town all by myself, and suddenly feel very dp'ed, but once I found a hostel and some other travellers, I'd begin to feel better. It never ceases to amaze me how well I can coninue to function in spite of my inner mental state.
Belize: Very nice, English speaking and very Caribbean. Spent a week on a paradise island staying with an islander who ran a small hostel. I watched quite a few people come and go at that place, and it began to feel like home. I had plenty of laughs here. The culture clash I witnessed when an islander tried to sweet talk a reserved German woman, was truly cringe worthy.
Guatemala: Beautiful, this was real Maya land, albeit in an opressed colonial form. Saw some amazing jungle cloaked ruins here, real Indianna Jones stuff. Also did some truly thrilling caving, with nothing but candles to light the way.
El Salvador: Didn't spend much time here, I might have seen a dead person in San Salvador.
Honduras: Didn't spend much time here either.
Nicaragua: Wanted to spend more time here, the lake looked amazing.
Costa Rica: The most Americanised of the countries, but still beautiful. Went on a three day hike in what is the greatest wilderness in Central America. It is also, square metre for square metre, the most biologically diverse place on the planet. Saw plenty of wildlife. My most thrilling encounter was with a pack of wild boars, who are supposedly the most dangerous animals in the region. It was a real Jurassica Park moment actually. I was hiking on my own out of season, so there were literally no other people in the region. I was strollign down the path, when there they were grinding their teeth at me, ready to attack if I made any form of moevement. I gazed in horror as more came out of the bushes around me, at least forty. I stood still for a good five minutes before they stopped grinding their teeth and trotted off.
Panama:The last country I visited. By now it was the dead season for travellers, so I ended up on an island off the East coast alone except for the frankly scary islanders. I was staying in hotel, which consisted of a few rooms on stilts on the water, very ramshackle. The first night, an islander who I'd been speaking to earlier that day, and who I had told where I was staying, broke in with a bunch of guys and started banging on my door asking for money. Fortunately I only had a couple of dollars on me, which seemed to satisfy him. What's funny was that at the time I was more scared of how dp'ed and spaced out I felt, seeing as he had woken me up in the middle of the night, than of the imediate physical threat, which I was completely indifferent to.
I actually completely ran out of money before I got to San Jose airport for my return flight. So I could not pay the departure tax. At first the airport staff said that there was nothing they could do for me. This was the first time that I was actually worried. The threat posed by shady characters, robbers and wild animals is nothing compared to the inevitable, ultimate authority of the establisment, when it antagonises your own intentions. Anyway after some negotiating in broken Spanish, they let me through without paying the tax.
There is something incredibly romantic about travelling by oneself, especially when you are young, the older travellers tended not to be as adventurous. I'm twenty now, and intend to do a whole lot more travelling before I become too old.
