Getting to know you

Bogota and its surroundings have been home now for almost two weeks. It is a fantastic city, probably my favorite in Latin America. Our host has been a young guy named Jeisson who is a physics teacher and traveller. He has spent the last four years travelling in south america and when we met him he was just coming back to Colombia for the first time. His hospitality has been outstanding; we have our own set of keys and come and go as we please. Our neighborhood, called Chapiñero, is quiet, tranquil and located in the middle of Bogota. It is a short bus ride into the downtown area of the city.

Many of the days are spent wandering different barrios of the city, exploring all sides of the city. My favorite part of the city is by far La Candelaria which is Bogota´s colonial heart. Small cobblestone streets with candlelit cafes, and a very bohemian feel. There are several universities in the area and the streets are filled with youth. On weekends the place is full of steet music and revelry. Zach and I have found ourselves sitting in El Gato Gris, a very tranquil spot where we can sit for hours and sip Colombia´s finest coffee, read, and write.

Other parts of the city, quite the opposite of La Candelaria, include La Zona de Tolerancia (the zone of tolerance). Just go off of the name to get a greater idea of the place. It was Jeisson´s idea to take us there because as he says, ¨It is good to know both sides of the peso.¨ Talk about shady. I went to my first nude bar! It was terrible, absolutely terrible. But we were being hosted and didn´t want to be rude. The streets are lined with prostitutes and brothels. Popular in the zone of tolerance are public ¨swimming pools;¨ we didn´t even want to know. The walk back was not pleasant and it was through a very shady part of the city, but it felt good to know that this place existed. Other favorites of Bogota are the incredible grafiti that is prevalent on any possible open surface, and a multitude of parks. From small stealh art spots to massive murals, the city has very talented street artists. In the center of the city the national park offers great hiking in the mountains and a relaxing break from the chaos of downtown. My favorite park though is Simon Bolivar Municipal park. On weekends the place is packed with soccer matches and families having picnics. There are lots of running trails around a lake, and the coolest playground I have ever seen. Ultimate is quite popular in Colombia and there are a few games hidden among the hundreds of soccer games.

Outside of Bogota the best spot has definitely been Villa de Leyva, an unbelievably beautiful colonial city filled with cobblestone plazas, hidden streets and some of the best Spanish colonial architecture i have ever seen. It is a bit on the touristy side, with many foreignors and colombian tourists too. The hills around the town are some of the most scenic and tranquil agricultural lands i´ve seen on this trip. Unfortunately there is a serious development boom, as wealthy Colombians are flocking there to build second homes. We took a day trip with two friends we met while camping in town to a series of seven waterfalls knows as La Periquera. Talk about amazing! The seven falls are huge and the mountain vally deep. An amazing way to cool off and a great place to relax in a super beautiful place.

Tonight I finally leave Bogota and start the journey north towards the Carribean side of the country. Zach and I are still travelling together and we plan to until I leave for the US in just over three weeks. It is great having a travel buddy like Zach, we have become good friends and travel really well together. I´ll try to write more in a couple of weeks.

One of my favorites

¨Without boss, without client¨

¨Free¨

a change, a loooooong trip, and Bogota

I dont even know where to begin really. The trip has changed dramatically in a way that i had not anticipated, but it has proven to be an amazing one. In David, Panama I realized that there was no reason for me to be riding on a road like an interstate in the US with no shoulder and whizzing traffic. It is not fun, and with 500km left to Panama City, I shuddered at the thought of spending three more days on the road. So i loaded my bike onto a bus for the trip into the city.

I ended up in a backpackers hostel in a pretty decent part of the city, it was one of the last beds in any of the inexpensive hostels in the entire city. It was amazing to see the insane number of backpackers in the city, I dont think I have ever seen anything like it. At the hostel I ended up at, I met and had a meal with an American guy named Aaron who was about to end a 14 month around the world by biking home to San Fran from Panama. A very ambitious trip, especially for someone who was already travel weary and who has never done a bike trip in his life. But, Aaron is super commited and is raising money for Plan USA, an organization that helps impoverished children throughout the world.

Over the next two days and many beers we came to an arrangement that I would sell,rent,loan parts of my bike to him for his journey. It made sense. I was tired of biking alone after a month coming down from Nicaragua, he was about to buy a bike, racks, bags, and gear in Panama. So he gave me his backpack and I gave him the bike! Just like that we each got what we wanted and were happy with the way that it happened. I decided not to sell him the bike at all, but make it my donation to his cause. At the end of the trip, he will box up the bike and gear and ship it back to me, hopefully all in working shape! I believe in his sincerity to make this journey happen and I wish him the best of luck. He has a blog as well, where you can see his progress and also contribute to Plan USA.

http://lasthillbeforehome.blogspot.com/

There are only a few choices on how to get from Panama to Colombia. In between the two countries is one of the largest unknown jungle regions in the world. There are no roads, hardly any people at all, minus the reported guerilla groups active in the area, and endless jungle so dense it oozes green sludge out into the ocean because there is no more room in the forest. For the traveller there are basically four sane choices: you can fly--BORING--, take a charter sail boat through the carribean, or figure out random connections on cargo ships and small boats through the carribean or the pacific. The easiest things to set up are flights and trips on sailboats. The sailboat is more of a luxury vacation: five days in turquoise waters with a two day stop at tropical isolated islands. I inquired into a trip and actually for some insane reason booked a trip that cost almost as much as all of my airfare for this trip. I figured that it was so easy and that i wasnt going to have to spend any time waiting or looking for other options. Sometimes travellers that opt to hunt for cargo ships wait weeks to find a boat that will take them and then have complete shit shows out at sea making the voyage.

Then as things began to fall into place, as they always do, i completely changed my plan, as i always do. The same day that i handed over my bicycle to Aaron i met another American at the same hostel who was trying to get on a cargo ship to Colombia. Zach is from Austin, Texas and Great Barrington, Mass and right away we hit it off. It was decided that with my new backpack in tow, we were making this journey together. And then theres Dave from Vermont. He rode his motorcycle down from Colorado and is going to Argentina. Also a really fun guy, he completed the trifecta.

Zach and Dave had already found a ship leaving Panama City the next day headed south along the Pacific coast. We had to convince the captain to let another passenger on, but it went smoothly, and before long we were waiting at the docks to board the Victoria C.

This boat was packed to the brim with cargo and passengers alike. We boarded at night in such a chaotic scene as to actually make us nervous. We were about to begin a journey that would take anywhere from four days to who knows how many. The Victoria was to take us 14 hours to the Panamanian frontier town of Jaque, then a small two hour ride to the Colombian frontier town of Jurado, and then the final 30 hour cargo ship ride to Buenaventura. This route is rarely taken by gringo travellers, so we had very little information going into it, but the three of us were commited to the adventure and whatever was going to happen would anyway. That first ride along the Victoria was a blast. We motored away to the midnight lights of Panama City, past the shoulder to shoulder luxury highrises out into the darkness of the Darien. We slept on the deck under the stars, and woke in the morning to dolphins jumping and playing alongside the boat. The sun fried us but we cared little becuase we we out on the open seas, laughing with the rest of the passengers on the boat.

Getting off in Jaque is another story. There is no dock so all of the passengers and cargo has to be unloaded from the main ship into little tiny boats that flock to the sides of the Victoria waiting for the passengers litteraly to jump from one ship to the other. We did this in a storm with huge swells that rocked us hard. Trying to jump into a small boat that is getting airborn is not easy. Needless to say we were very grateful to be on land again. Jaque is a sleepy town, no roads, no cars, and really fresh fish. We had to wait until the next day until we could hire someone with a boat to take us farther down the coast into Colombia. That trip was also done in a storm but this time we were speeding like mad alongside the jungle, grins blazing. The three of us would shoot glimpes at eachother with expressions of holy shit did you see that.

Little did we know that Jurado would be our home for a week because we had just missed the boat that would take us to Buenaventura, on the central coast of Colombia. Jurado is a trip. We were greeted by a huge crowd of police and military that took as back to the compound to register as foriegn visitors and to offer us a campsite on the beach right behind the station. The police there are young kids who basically resent the fact that they were posted in the middle of nowhere while their friends were working in cities throughout the country. It was common to see officers arguing over whether or not Jurado is the shittiest place in all of Colombia. We loved it however. There are no road, no cars, lots of beach, great people, and cheap beer. We had a great campsite with free 24 hour security and plenty of time to do nothing. It didnt take long before everyone in the town knew exactly who we were and where we were from. The police hounded us constantly wanting to talk to anyone other than the other people in Jurado. They love to party even while working and they were fun to hang out with. Every day we ate the same massive plate of food at the same restaurant and loved it.

After a week of it though we were bored as shit and counted the seconds until the boat came. The only problem is though that nobody knew when it would come. It does when it does is basically the only correct answer. It came, we left, gladly.

30 hours later we departed the Correo Del Pacifico in the massive port town of Buenaventura. The city has been notorious in the past as being one of the most dangerous cities in the world, but we loved it! The street food was plentiful and cheap and the people friendly. We had a day to kill before catching the overnight bus to Bogota.

Unfortunatley the cheap food caught up with me on the bus and it made the 12 hours terrible for me. Riding through the Andes in the bathroom of a coach bus is a horrible experience, one i dont recommend to anyone. We pulled into Bogota in the early morning elated to have finally arrived at our destination after 10 days of travel. A friend from one of the boat rides offered to put us up once we arrived, and that is where we are staying right now.

Bogota is a great city. We have only been here for a day, but it is proving itself to be a great place. Zach and I will travel together for a while it seems. The two of us have become close and we make great travel mates.

I plan on staying the rest of my trip in Colombia. Already i love it and have not seen any of it. After a month longer here i hope to really get a sense of the place.

Coastal CR and Panama

Where to begin? Last i left off the road ran south towards the ocean. The road from La Tigre towards San Ramon was very hard, about 30km uphill. The weather though was nice and cool, the perfect conditions for riding. On the road i met a cyclist named Roberto who invited me back to his house in San Ramon for the night. A really great guy with a great family, he spoke english really well and is very well travelled. In his house i noticed that the sceen saver for his computer was the album cover to the Dead's 'Live' album. Turns out that not only is he a huge deadhead, but also of really great music in general. We spent the night drinking red wine and listening to Neil Young and spanish flamenco music. His family treated me to great meals and a really nice time. They had the biggest dog i've ever seen in my entire life, a sheepdog named Pesita.

I took off in the morning with the goal of swimming in the pacific by nightfall. The road was really hard, and i tackled the hardest hills ive ever seen. Not in length, but in grades so steep you can barely peddal even using the granny gear. The weather was nice, but as i approached the coast and bombed down some massive hills out of the mountains, i quickly learned of the heat that the coastal zone holds. I did make the beach and found a nice camp spot right on the sand. The sunset was epic, but the souds of the road and the waves made sleep hard that night.

The road on the coast is mainly flat which makes cruising pretty easy, but the heat is almost unbearable. I passed through the tourist mecca of Jaco which is a pretty grim scene full of highrise hotels, atv rentals, prostitutes, and smog. From Jaco i passed the legendary surf beach of Hermosa which hosts an international surf competition every year. With no goal in mind other than to find a beach for the night and to move forward i pushed on in the blazing sun towards Quepos. The road south of there is not paved and it a giant washboard of a road, so in an attempt to save my body and bike the misery i hitched a ride. Within 5 minutes my bike was on the roof of a car driven by two gringos who own land down here. Nice guys i guess, they bought me lunch, but after a couple hours with them i realized that to costa ricans, most americans must look like complete assholes. On the ride to Dominical, where the pavement picks up again, they told me all about the escapades of buying up land here and building luxury houses and how they find themselves being robbed all the time... no shit i thought. There are parts of the coast here that have far more FOR SALE signs than there are people. The whole coast of this country is for sale.

I decided to stay in Dominical for a couple of days. It is definitely a tourist spot for both gringos and ticos (costa ricans) alike. The camping on the beach is free and i paid a small sum to a bar to hold my bags and bike for me. I was the only gringo camped on the beach, and i joined a really nice family for my first night there. We enjoyed dinner together and lots of good laughs. The surf at Dominical is huge and there are lots of really good surfers to watch from the beach. I swam constantly and enjoyed cold beer.

My new years was broken into two parts. The first involved beer and a redneck from north florida. You know you are in for a hell of a time when a shirtless sunburnt redneck throws his arm around you and in slurred speech full of spittle yells into your ear, "itth gonna be a longg night ma man, right!" He's a local down there actually and not a tourist. I ditched him as soon as possible and made a new friend somewhere at sometime. Andrew was an older guy, maybe 45, an artist who is living in San Jose, but is a world traveller. We spent the remainder of the night watching shooting stars on the beach using our bottle of rum as a micophone as we spat philosophy into the morning. It was a great night, and it made my departure the next morning a little slow.

I did make it out of Dominical alive though and i peddaled along a gorgeous stretch of coast line full of amazing ceviche stands and tropical beaches. I rode about 65km into the town of Palmares where i found a great spot to sleep at the house of a bike mechanic and his family. I have become really good at showing up at peoples door and using the line, "Hi, I'm travelling on my bicycle and it is getting late. Do you know of any good camp spots around here?" The gate opens up and there is usually a plate of food in front of me within ten minutes. This family was great, and I had a great time talking bikes, travels, the US, and a lot more and watching horror movies. I left that morning with about 100km to go until the border of Panama.

Border crossings can either be really easy or really hard. This one was a pain in the ass. It is in a large duty free zone so people from both sides of the border flock there to shop. It it hot, crowded and the lines to get through customs can be long. I made it through to Panama though and was surprised to find a four lane highway with huge smooth shoulders. The traffic however is heavier and faster and drivers seem to be less courteous. In fact, as soon as i crossed the border i felt imediately a different vibe from costa rica. The people seemed much less friendly. I tried to find a place to camp but the roadsides were basically all massive cattle farms. It was getting dark, i had already ridden about 120km, and nobody would let me camp at there place. I was getting a little desperate until finally, right before dark i met two people on the street and pulled my usual line, this time with a little more desperation. 10 seconds later one of the men named Edgar says oh i have a big house with an extra room you can come stay with me. Putting aside any worry that this guy was about the kill we walked down the dark dirt roads until we reached his concrete shack where he did infact have an extra room for me with a US army issue cot included! We had giant plates of rice and garlic and some tea with sugar cane for desert. He is a dairy farmer who owns three houses but lives in complete poverty. His hospitality was incredible and it came at the most crucial moment.

I rode the last 30km to the Panama's second largest city, David, through a really crazy stretch of road with no shoulder, lots of traffic, and just when i could not get any more flustered, my ipod flew off my bike t(sometimes in situations like that i need some pumping music to keep a raging pace, necessary in traffic like that). It landed in the middle of the lane and i saw the traffic coming. It was one of those -- oh no oh no oh no-- moments but i knew better than to run into traffic to get it. The big SUV just nicked it, only a little bit on the corner, and it still works! I couldnt believe it. Panama has me a little stressed out... Im staying now at a hostel in the suburbs of the city and tomorrow im going to leave my bike here and head north into the highlands to get away from traffic and the heat.

I have heard that the road to Panama City, about 500km from here, is more of the same which has me a little peeved. There's a possibilty that i might take my bike onto a bus and just get to the city. I plan on staying there for about a week, pending on finding a free place to stay, and finding a boat down to columbia. I am having a great time, better than i was, and am looking forward to the next legs of the journey, specifically Colombia. I'll be there before long and the trip should take on a different feel.

Finca Northwoods

Look at my clean face!

Over and over again in my life when i ask the universe for something, even specifically, an answer comes, sometimes within the hour. Last i left off, i was headed around lake Arenal from the tourist mecca of Fortuna towards the backroads to Monteverde. I did leave in that direction, but after riding for 20 miles with a canadian woman i was easily turned back to Fortuna with a new route planned. Monteverde is just another tourist trap hard to get to, way overpriced, and has the same jungle as anywhere else around here, she told me. So, we biked back to town, spent the night there and in the morning i took off to the south towards San Ramon and the pacific coast.

The ride was fun, kind of. Big rolling hills through green valleys on a nice rain free afternoon, but my mind was moving faster than my wheels could spin. I kept thinking to myself that what i really wanted to be doing was hanging out with some good people on a farm. I passed numerous internet cafes, at each one very tempted to pull over and check out the wwoof directory. Thats willing workers on organic farms for those who are unfamiliar. For whatever reason i peddaled on until i reached the town of La Tigre where an ice cream cone tempted me off my bike for a while. After the delicious break i was approached by a gringo woman who was intrigued by my bicycle. We got to talking about her brother in law who is currently riding his bicycle alone around the world. He is in India now coming from London. Meghan informed me that she and her husband ran a private school up in the mountains outside of town and that if i wanted to i could spend the night there. All i had to do was push my bike 3km up a rock road. The offer sounded nice, i was tired, and i figured that it is not every day this happens.

Up the hill, an hour later, i roll up at Finca Northwoods. The big beautiful house overlooks the enitre valley with sweeping views. Lush gardens, ponds filled with big tilapia fish, and about 100 acres of private rain forest. In fact the farm abuts hundreds of thousands of acres of protected forest. There house basically abuts the Monteverde reserve.

I was warmly greeted by a number of people at the house, some of which students, some workers. Finca Northwoods is a satellite program from a program in Idaho, with the same name, that is a private boarding school for at-risk teens. There are only four students here right now, but many more are in Idaho, and they usually cycle through in four or five month periods. Here, the kids have school for half a day and spend the rest working on the farm. A lot of the kids have quite troubled pasts and this program is definately a wake up call. There is nothing like working in a hot humid rainforest getting swarmed by giant ants and mosquitos to help woop someone into shape. After spending time with the kids i can tell that the program works.

Dave and Meghan who run the school were so inviting and kind when i showed up that i decided to spend another day here and do some work on the farm with them. I helped clear a plot of land that will be used to plant beans in the near future. The staff i worked with were amazing. Freddy is a local guy who is also one of the host families that house the students. All students live within the local community to get a better grasp on life in Costa Rica.

X-Mas break was coming up and everyone was clearing house so Dave asked me if i would watch over the place while they were gone. I was thrilled of course! So here i am, living up on the hill with the house and land to myself. My companion is Woody, the valiant dog of the finca, and I have the keys to the 1959 land rover which is by far the most fun car ive ever driven. They come back from vacation in a couple days and after that i will head through some big mountains before the coast. I have been warned that the roads are insane from here.

Isnt it amazing that right after i have the thought of stopping somewhere for a little bit i end up in a sort of fairytale land. This place isnt great for just the natural beauty, but also for what it stands for. In a world of corporate boarding schools and programs that are based on discipline and punishment for past actions, Northwoods is a place where kids are given skills to take control of their lives in an open community. The staff here is great and is based around supporting not only the students but also the local community. In the process, the farm is transforming into a place that will make the school self-sufficient agriculturally.

I have a feeling that the connection i have made to this place will last longer than the extent of my house sitting gig. These are good people.

What is even more is the connection ive made to local families here. I had christmas dinner last night with Freddy and his family and they warmly welcomed me. This is what i wish all my journeys were like; getting off the road and into the communities, talking to locals, eating, sharing, laughing. It can be so easy to be trapped on the road and tourist circuits, but when i can make good friends who are real and not in anyway affiliated with tourism it is a great feeling.

Isla de Ometepe y Costa Rica

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There is something about Islands that always attracts me in a very unique way. It is the isolation and the autonomy, the slower pace of life, the tranquility that comes from being always surrounded and protected by water, and the kind of people that settle in such places that are so enticing to me. All the islands I have known (Martha´s Vineyard, St. John, Vashon, Maui, Ometepe) have all left me with a connection to the land and the people there. In some ways i feel like my life in recent years has developed into an island state of being. Tranquility and autonomy are maybe the most important parts of my life, things that help me keep travelling.
La Isla de Ometepe is located in the middle of Lake Nicaragua which dominates the southeastern part of Nicaragua. The island is basically two volcanoes connected by a small strip of land with a road around the perimeter of each. It has become a huge tourist mecca in the country in recent years which makes perfect sense because after the hustle and uber gringoness of Granada (where the ferry leaves from) the island is an escape. Even though there are lots of tourists there is is very easy to not see a single one if you want to.
I chose to head directly for the opposite side of the island from the ports. The paved road quickly turns to a complete shitstorm dirt track that leads across the Playa Santo Domingo towards the Volcan Maderas side of the island. I bumped into two friends of mine, Fernando from Mexico and Toke from Denmark, who directed me to their camp spot, a small very typical backpackers hostel right on the water. It was complete with bamboo huts, thatch roofs, overpriced food, and an open tab which is the enticer to keep people drinking. I have come to know these places from travelling in other places and i usually avoid them. They are usually never owned by locals and are generally backpacker bait. But, we were the only people there! It was really nice actually to have that little tropical place to ourselves. Camping was really cheap and it was right at the base of the volcano which i climbed the next day.
Most people hire guides to go hike up the volcano which sits at 1394 meters, but i would never do that. So i set out under cloudy skies which quickly turned into extreme downpour. Of course i didn´t turn around, hiking up the almost vertical trail through ankle deep mud and water was awesome! I made it up the mountain in a few hours and decended into the crater which has filled with water to form a lagoon, but the visibility was mas o menos ten feet, so i retreated down the hill through dense jungle with bellowing howler monkeys allerting me that i was tresspassing on their turf. The bottom of the mountain is lush agricultural land filled with bean fields, banana plantations, and pasture.
The most amazing thing to me about that island is that it is almost completely self-suffiecient. All of the farms there grow their own rice, beans, corn, fruit, meat, etc. Real homesteading.

From the island i took the overnight ferry to San Carlos which is basically right on the border of Costa Rica. I opted for second class to save a few dollars but i spent most of the night sleeping in a mountain of plantains out on the deck. Inside there are bad american movies being played all night long, my favorite of them was a really terrible movie called the cannibal 3. It was a normal escape through the jungle until the very end when it turns into a gratuitously bloody, violent and sexual film filled with beastiallity and internal organ eating. The whole boat was hysterical. The young boys next to me were in heaven while their mothers were flipping out.

From San Carlos it is a one hour boat ride through the jungle to Los Chilles, Costa Rica. Right away the differences between Nicaragua and Costa Rica are evident. The towns are clean, there are apparent civil services abound, and the people are somehow different too. I think it is pride. The general atmosphere is very proud and happy. Everything costs a lot more here which is hard for long haul travelling, but it just means camp more, drink less.
Yesterday was my first long day on the bike, around 60 miles through rolling agricultural lands. Constant rain kept it cool and the sun broke through to dry me off at the end of the day. I spent the night camped on a beautiful farm 10km outside of La Fortuna which is a very touristy but clean and friendly city.
From here i bike west into the mountains around Lago Arenal and then south to Monteverde. I have realized that my bike is in no way equipped to travel on back roads here which is too bad, but i will be able to put my bike on busses to get me around sketchy roads.
I am excited to actually ride my bike all day everyday for the next little bit, already my body feels great and in shape, yet completely saturated. There is never a moment to dry out here with the constant rain and humidity, but hopefully that will change some in the higher elevations.

stupid stupid carnivore

Oddly enough the street food of choice in Granada is a hot dog. Of course you can find gallo pinto y carne asada y ensalada but most often people chow down on a dog. These are serious weeners here: foot long, smothered in everything imaginable. Granada is a latin america tourist mecca which has its ups and downs, one of the ups being the mojito happy hour at la casa blanca. Dos mojitos for 20 cordobas which is 50 cents per one. So i got hammered of course.
In my stupor, with hefty appetite, i hit the streets looking for a meal. It was late and the streets were empty, but i managed to find a hot dog cart. Had i been of right mind i never would have eaten such a piece of crap, but i did and it was fantastic i think. Anyway, i left without my backpack which of course had everything i need to travel inside of it: passport, travellers checks, debit card, camera, cash, my journal, and my bike lock (i was on my bike of course). It took me about 10 minutes to realize what i had done and when i did i booked it back only to find the shadow of a once existing hot dog cart.
I mostly had something like a heart attack with a touch of brain meltdown, but my compatriots here tried to keep me a little more positive. I went to sleep knowing the total shit show that lay ahead of me.
Getting a new passport is a royal pain in the ass. It involves lots of time, money, and waiting. But i started the procedure. First thing was to have an official police report, so i spent many hours waiting to take care of that, most of which was spent talking to a teenage cop holding an ak47 with him asking me lude questions about how american women like to have sex. Ah just give me the god damn papers! They did. I left.
I hit the streets looking for my mystery hot dog lady but she was nowhere to be seen. I thought for sure that I'd never see any of my things again.
BUT THEN!!!!! I spotted a hot dog cart on a street corner with a lady who looked nothing like the lady from the night before... I had described to the police that the hot dog lady was an old lady with white hair... this woman was young and had black hair... and lo and behold strapped to the cart was my backpack. Everything was in order, nothing missing. In fact she would not even open the bag, for she knew that she would see me on the street at some point. Ay que fantastico! i could not believe it. This woman was so kind to watch over my bag and what a warm hearted soul. She didnt even know what was inside of it.
Later, i went back to visit her to try to give her a gift for returning my bag but she refused completely and in return tried to give me a hot dog. I refused as well.

Catastrophe avoided by the skin of my teeth. I feel like an ass still for being so careless, but it goes to show how amazing the people are down here. But here in Granada which is a very beautiful colonial city and full of tourists from all over the world there are two kinds of people: those that are trying to get your money and those that arent. The backpacker scene here is blown up and it bothers me so i leave tomorrow for Omatepe island for some volcano time. From there i can take a boat to a city near the border of costa rica.

Oh and biking, right. It is hot and my bike weighs a ton, which makes things very hard for my out of shape self. I have only biked about 35 miles so far but it gets easier from here.

Preparations

Prepping for a trip is always a busy time for me because I leave everything for the last minute. I'm great at it, but days are full of errands and the business of organizing for many months away from home (home here meaning America, for lack of a more specific residence). The reality of course is that the best trips are the ones that have most of the planning saved for the moments when a decision really needs to be made. In the case of this trip that means route, food, lodging, etc.; nothing important, but things that need to be taken care of at some point.

This journey, my most ambitious cycle tour yet, begins in Managua, Nicaragua and will hopefully carry me down deep into the Andes of Peru. My path will cross Costa Rica, Panama, Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. I am in no rush and am more interested in exploration than speed or distance. Both of those attributes can be nice in a bike tour; more miles equals more country seen and experiences had, but speed also encourages blindness to culture,
In past tours, specifically last year's ride from Los Angles to the tip of Baja, I found myself slave to paved roads, but this time I refuse to remain tied to asphalt. I've beefed up my wheels in anticipation of riding in more rural areas.

My flight leaves in about six hours, and I am scheduled to arrive in Managua around 10AM tomorrow morning. I am excited but also nervous to be doing this trip alone. I know the feeling though: the anticipation of lonliness mixed with the joy of adventure. In past trips the lonliness is just a forethought and never a reality. I hope to be blessed with good company along my ride, be it gringo cyclists or inviting locals.

Seeing as how nobody knows that I have a blog (I always thought they were for dorks) it would be odd to say "Stay tuned for updates!" because there isn't anyone tuned in to begin with... But I'll say it for my sake

Stay tuned!

Jeff


Oh yeah, that sexy creamsicle of a bike in the main page picture is my custom steel CircleA bike, but alas, it remains in the basement of my parents house in NY. All of me wants to take it on this trip but it is just too nice (wouldn't want to go chipping the paint now would I). Instead I am using my beat to shit aluminum green machine, my first touring bike: a trusted friend and great travelling companion.