using my inside voice |
Lifestyle & Culture | December 21, 2009
It's almost as if I never left, Central America seems a distant memory, closer to a dream than reality. Australia is as real and raw as I always remembered. With sun-drenched beaches, ocker accents an Sunshine Plaza and familiar festive preparations mimicking Christmases past so thoroughly, I could be 20 and home from University again, rather than 28 and about to embark on a spanking new life in Brisbane next year.
There are some things, however, that I'd come close to forgetting about Australia, but seeing and experiencing them once again made me realise what a fantastic country I (now) live in. It all started on Saturday morning, as I began a 3.5 hour drive to Bundaberg for a friend's wedding. I was a little bit nervous driving again on the right side of the road, after four years on the left. On top of that, I was driving a massive Land Cruiser (a girl's got to sleep somewhere after the wedding!). But, Australia's great stretches of greeny-brown land soon rekindled the familiar feeling of a road trip, as I sang to the Dirty Dancing sound track at full volume to keep myself alert.
In my short trip to Bundy and back I remembered a few things that, if you're Australian, maybe you take for granted, and if you're not, maybe you'll find interesting.
1) Driver Reviver
I'd been told multiple times by Mum to make sure to have plenty of stops on the way to Bundaberg. So, I dutifully pulled over near Tiaro at one of the countless Driver Reviver stations that dot Australia's highways. These stops are manned by volunteers throughout the year. They serve free cups of hot Lipton tea in Styrofoam cups to drivers needing a break from the road. As any Australian knows, driving the long, often lonely, stretches can take it's toll, and single-vehicle accidents caused by drivers having 'micro sleeps' are all too common. So these stops are around to help us all stay safe and alert on the roads. Pretty cool hey? And, who could resist a slice of home-made fruit cake for $1 as you bob your teabag in the steaming water.
2) The Warning Flash
As we travelled in convoy from the wedding to the reception an approaching car flashed it's lights at me and I immediately hit the brakes (I was following a bunch of testosterone-fueled hoons I had gone to uni with). In Australia, a flash like that means only one thing - cops on the lookout for speeding drivers. As far as I know, Australia is the only country that has a nationwide system to help fellow-drivers evade speeding tickets. Of course it's totally illegal, but you've got to help out a mate right?
3) The Wedding Flash
A different kind of flash entirely... only in Australia would a wedding guest decide it is an entirely appropriate forum to get nude, walk around a bit, and mingle with their still-clothed counterparts. Yes, there was a nudie run at the wedding. But, sadly it was less of a run and more of a meet and greet, just to make sure everyone got a good eye-full. Enough said.
4) The Flattie
This could mean many things in Australia; a flathead (fish), a flat tire, or, as in my case, a flat white. Australia has a coffee that is uniquely their own (well, they also serve it in NZ apparently, but does that really count?) Where the USA has the Americano, Italy has espresso, and France has the French Press, Australia has the flat white. According to reputable sources, a flat white is 30ml of espresso, textured milk and 1cm or less microfoam and served in a ceramic cup. A latte has more than 1cm microfoam and is served in a glass cup. After waking at 5am cramped and uncomfortable in the back of the Cruiser, I decided it was better to head home that force another few hours sleep with my feet pressed into the door and my head into the back seats. But, to facilitate the long drive a coffee beverage of some sort was required, and when i stopped at a road-side roastery (so awesome!) I saw a flat white on the menu and couldn't resist!
Out on the patio we'd sit,
And the humidity we'd breathe,
We'd watch the lightning crack over cane fields,
Laugh and think, this is Australia
- Ganggajang
Travel | December 7, 2009
6 months - who knew it would all be coming to an end so soon? Well, I suppose that I knew, since I booked the tickets home and all, but still, it does seem to creep up in a weirdly unexpected way.
Today is our last day in Central America. After a mad dash to San Jose to pick up Luke's new passport, we have had some time to relax and reflect on what this trip has brought into our lives and and what it has taken out. I guess the top of the list of things that were taken out would be Luke's Macbook and money belt, but these are simply materialistic things (that we hope to be appropriately compensated for by our travel insurance company).
More philosophically, it has removed a great fear I had of traveling to strange and more 'dangerous' parts of the world. When we were first planning this trip, I figured we pretty much couldn't go anywhere in Central America other than Costa Rica, because the other places all sounded too scary. A quick look at some of the government websites listing the robberies, assaults, kidnappings and other unsavoury activities in these nether countries of the Americas and you may understand some of my hesitation. But, soon after arriving down here, we realised that while you certainly must remain alert and take certain measures to fade the bulls-eye that all foreigners have emblazoned in red across their foreheads as prime targets for pick pocketing and robbery, you can also do almost anything you like in safety and relative comfort.
It has made me realise the value of certain things which I most certainly took for granted in the past, such as a vibrant, safe, fun and beautiful city to live in (yes, I'm talking about you Vancouver). To be able to cycling down a well-known road, with the springtime sun on your back and a bottle of wine in your basket, knowing that in five minutes you will be relaxing on a patio with some of the best people you are likely to ever know is, well, irreplaceable. To arrive at work, knowing that while the job itself may not inspire moments of pure, unadulterated joy, you will more than likely laugh your head off multiple times throughout the day, because the people you have the privilege of working with are just plain awesome, is not only hard to come by, but precious beyond compare.
There is also the flip side of the coin on journeys like ours. We laughed with Mark and Kate as we shared a bottle of rum and watched the rain thundering down on the beach outside, as a bunch of rowdy local teenagers in their underwear screamed and kicked soccer balls on the wet sand, stopping only to pose like juvenile David Beckams when Kate lifted her camera to capture their ridiculous energy. We dove into cool cenotes in the Yucatan, and hassled new-found friends for their fear of the 3 meter plunge. We made a spur-of-the-moment decision to jump on a bus to Yosemite with Mia and the boys who we met just the night before because they seemed like a bit of a laugh. These friendships are epic. They are formed fast and hard, like quick-setting concrete, because circumstance dictates that unless you jump in with both feet the fleeting moment to engage and bond with what were previously strangers will be gone.
This trip has given me the realistion that contrast is the building block of happiness. To travel constantly would degrade its beauty and freedom, because once it becomes normal life, the lustre soon disappears. To know some tedium makes traveling so much sweeter, and the journey so much more powerful. It brings insight and passion back into your daily life, and excites the mind for future adventures to other unknown places that you simply must conquer (but with a smaller backpack next time).
As I sit here in a hostel in San Jose, with sun streaming in the front windows and red taxis rushing past on the road outside, I know already that I will crave this trip before too long. The rice and beans, the completely unsafe (but incredibly exhilarating) adventure activities, the thought of rising in the morning and being able to do whatever it is you feel like that day, whether it be sitting around the hostel, or zipping through the jungle canopies of Costa Rica like a modern-day Tarzan. I will miss the irresponsibility that having no ties can bring, with only a backpack and a vague idea to guide you.
But, I am also looking forward to having a home base again, having my own things around me that are constant and familiar, having more than three sets of clothes to wear on any given day, and having family and friends around at any time, for any reason. I'm not quite sure what to say now that six months of traveling has come to an end, but I would like to think that the adventure is not over, and that as I move to another phase in my life, opportunities of different kinds will present themselves. I hope to have ridiculous stories for future blog entries, that while not as exotic will still challenge and inspire me and, maybe you too.
More soon...
Central American Travel | November 27, 2009
At 10 he was picking coffee beans to help support his 9 brothers and mother - his Dad had run away when he was young.
The money he earned coffee picking after school was enough to pay for school books and the bus to and from home.
At 14 he was still picking, but soon made the transition to many other roles in the coffee growing, processing and roasting world.
At 30, after fulfilling every role on the farm, he testifies that picking is definitely the hardest.
Working his way up through the coffee world, Carlos now leads tours at Cafe Ruiz, one of the leading coffee producers in Boquete, Panama.
With a wealth of information and a sense of humour to boot, he makes 3 hours on the farm, in the processing plant and roasting room fly by.
He calls Nescafe "No es cafe" which means "it's not coffee". He says Starbucks are great at selling milk and sugar. He thinks 4 cups of coffee a day isn't a lot, and says that he's met people that drink 10 a day... before noon.
And, he gave me an opportunity to take some amazing photos of all the beautiful coffee plants throughout the farm.
Arabica coffee must be shade grown, and as you can see from the picture below, it's hard to tell this is even a coffee farm.
With close to thirty different fruit and vegetable plants (other than coffee) growing throughout the farm, the bugs choose the fruit over coffee, some biodiversity is maintained, and the workers can pick as much ripe fruit for their own consumption as they please.
They spray pesticides only once a year, and then only if the plant needs it.
They don't weed, knowing that the weeds hold more water in the soil for the coffee plants, and they pick all their beans by hand.
Cafe Ruiz also sells 10% of it's coffee within Panama, at prices completely affordable to locals. This is something many top-notch producers in the region no longer do, as they fetch much heftier sums selling their coffee at auction to roasters in the United States, Italy and other countries.
Cafe Ruiz seems to have it going on in more ways than one, and took my passion for coffee to a new level.
More soon...
Central American Travel | November 23, 2009
Any trip to Central America is not complete without at least one trip in the infamous dickie seat. What is a dickie seat I hear you ask? A dickie seat is the oft-loathed, but always-used, fold-out seat that fills the aisles of all and sundry minivans and shuttles throughout Central America and Mexico.
The dickie seat is likely to catch you by surprise if you are one of the later travelers to alight your minibus transportation. As you duck inside the sliding door, you will stare in bewilderment around the already-packed van, wondering where on earth you are expected to sit. Then, as the van driver or door-attendant/money collector dude points emphatically at an empty space of aisle, it will dawn on you that what you thought was a strange-looking arm rest is, in fact, a dickie seat, folded into it's upright position.
As the seat yields and creaks to your insistent pushing and finally slots into place, you resign yourself to the fact that the next six hours will be spent with the bar at the top of the backrest pressing into your spine as you jolt and careen along badly-maintained mountain roads at breakneck speeds.
One minor advantage to the dickie seat on these unfavourable mountain passes is that it comes with it's own built-in suspension. With only the hinged bracket holding your seat mid-air, you bounce along in time to the potholes, as others jolt towards the ceiling at each unexpected highway speed bump.
Oh dickie seat... how I love thee.
My dickie seat brings me just that little bit closer to the music blaring from the two-watt cellphone speakers of the woman next to me. The tinny salsa tunes compete with the DVD being shown on the seemingly out-of-place flat screen TV, which is bolted precariously to the ceiling with a towel as a buffer to the bumps and grinds of the bus's passage.
Only my dickie seat could put me in the path of projectile rubbish the Mayan gentleman next to me lobs past my nose and out the open bus door on one of the many passenger pick-ups along the way.
Oh dickie seat, only you could provide the pleasure of repeatedly standing, sitting, standing and sitting again to let passengers on and off the bus.
Dickie seat, you clever thing you, allowing 30 people on a minibus that is surely only built for 20. And, when passenger number 31 sidles up the minibus steps, only you would provide the added space to cram three people into the space designed for two. If you thought sitting in the dickie seat was fun, sitting with on butt cheek on the dickie seat, and one on the normal seat takes things to a whole different level.
More soon...
Travel | November 14, 2009
Here are five things that rule about traveling. I haven't included the obvious ones, such as meeting new people, seeing new places, trying new food and drinking too much rum/wine, because I think those are all givens of any trip abroad. Instead I have tried to highlight some of the more unusual positive experiences of traveling, in the hope of providing at least a vague picture of what we spend our time doing here in Central America.
Maybe this will also win back some of those readers that decided I was an ungrateful wench after my last post...
1) Riding in the Back of Utes
For those non-Australian's out there, a ute (or utility) is basically a pick-up. And, in most countries in Central America it is a-okay to cram as many people as humanly possible into the back of any old ute (along with their chickens, small children, sacks of vegetables, machetes and other farming paraphernalia), thus creating a viable means of public transport where none exists.
Once the trayback is sufficiently full to warrant a trip to wherever this particular ute goes (which, by the way, you probably have no way of knowing without asking the driver, and even after asking you will probably still be confused). You then get driven at break-neck speeds along narrow and winding roads, stopping occasionally when someone bangs on the roof or whistles at a high pitch to indicate they wish to be let out of the sardine-tin like confines. It's awesome fun.
There's just something about the wind in your hair and a Mayan in your armpit that's inexplicably exhilarating. It's real-life dodgems, where you have no control, no safety-net, and only a machete-wielding, gumboot-wearing young lad for cushioning (and, come to think of it, I'm not sure how effective that machete would be at cushioning in the event of an accident).
In Central America, for the most part, there is no such thing as workplace health and safety, proper road rules/etiquette, or waiver forms.
Where else could you go on a tour through a series of caves, wearing only a bikini and your foot-slappers (tied on with string), swimming and slipping your way through tunnels, waterfalls and wide, deep pools, with only a candle to light your way (that you have to somehow keep lit and above water the entire time).
Where else could you careen down the side of the youngest, most-active volcano in Central America, wearing shorts and a tank-top, with a board made of plywood, moments after observing the steaming, sulfurous gas rising from the volcano's crater?
There is almost no end to the number of stupidly dangerous activities on offer here, so come down adventure seekers - the risks are abundant and exhilarating.
2) Napping in New Places
Anyone who knows me well, knows I place a high value on a good nap. Sleeping ranks up there in my list of favourite things to do. And, on this trip, I have found a veritable treasure trove of new and exciting places to nap.
There is nothing like going off for a good nap, and waking up to realise you are in Costa Rica with a beach down the road and a monkey at your windowsill.
Number one on my list of new and exciting places to nap would have to be in a hammock.
When you first jump in you begin your napping session with a series of hardy swings, pushing off any available surface to get a serious amount of momentum going. After a four or five intense swinging sessions you lay back, close your eyes, and let the movement of the hammock lull you into a peaceful slumber.
Now, novices out there may think that swinging in a hammock is an easy task, but there are many and varied types of hammocks that all affect your optimum sleeping position. On top of this, not all hammocks are hung at their correct distance and height, which also requires slight adjustments to your napping pose.
But, after a while, all visitors to Central America have got their technique pretty much down pat. I have not met one traveler that has not enthused to me, "I LOVE HAMMOCKS! I am going to buy a hammock and set it up in my living room when I get home, all you need in your house is a hammock, it is a chair, bed, workstation... everything." And indeed it is. All Central American travelers are enamored by hammocks within days of venturing to these hammock-laden shores.
Other good napping places to try out on your next trip include: the beach (of course), beds/chairs/couches that are outside - because napping outside simply rules, buses, planes, airports, but NOT, my worthy readers, bus stations. Bus stations are easily the worst place to nap. Not simply because the chairs are always made of cold, unyielding metal, but also because it is the most likely place for getting yourself robbed.
Happy napping!
3) Learning Patience
Somehow I have become addicted to the game of patience (also known as solitaire). Any spare moment I have, while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, while waiting for the water to boil, while waiting for the bread to heat in the oven (and instead burning it to perfection) I seem to start playing a game of patience on my computer.
I have also learned another brand of patience on my travels, and that is patience to wait out almost any situation. Many people that know me are aware that patience has not always been a virtue I have possessed in spades. But, when traveling in places like Central America, if you don't have patience and the ability to simply go with the flow, you will swiftly and surely lose your mind.
Here are some times when you require more than a small modicum of patience:
So, you learn to be patient. And, while at first you might find these situations frustrating, in the end it is a good lesson that things don't have to happen when you want them to.
You also start enjoying yourself much more. If you can be happy simply sitting waiting for something to happen, taking in all the other things around you that you have probably never seen before, and will likely never see again, then life is a much more pleasant experience, and traveling so much more rewarding.
4) The Moon, the Sun and the Stars
How often do you look out your window, or up at the stars, and marvel at the beauty that is above you each and every day? Not often I'd wager (or at least I didn't used to when the tedium of working life was oppressing me).
Now, however, I find myself constantly watching sunsets, sunrises, moonrises and the stars at night.
I've realised the importance of paying attention to the world around me and staying tuned to what it's doing at any given moment. Each sunrise is a little different, each sunset projects a new array of colours, and it's really a privilege to have the time and leisure to observe it.
Even the rain hammering down on our tin roof carries its own fascination, despite the fact that it's happened each day we've been here. There's something so powerful about an intense downpour, as it fills potholes and drenches you on your ride home. I used to hate getting caught in the rain, but now it doesn't bother me at all, and I only use an umbrella if we're in transit and I have my computer with me.
I'm not sure what started this obsession with being on the beach at sunset or staring out the window at the moonrise. Since leaving North America we've spent close to no time in large cities, and I suppose that brings nature to the forefront, because you're so close to it all the time when you're in a small town or on a Caribbean shore.
5) Spontaneity
Freedom is one of the things I craved so badly in the lead up to this trip. Some mornings, on my Skytrain ride to work, I would find myself wishing that I could just hop off at another station and spend the day reading a book at a coffee shop, wandering round Vancouver, not doing anything of import, but also not going to work. But, that sort of spontaneity does not exist when you have a job to go to. You can't just hop off half-way along your bus trip, grab a coffee at one of the best cafes in Vancouver, and sit watching the world go by.
But, when you're traveling you can.
If you arrive in a town that is not to your liking, you simply leave the next day, doing a bit of research to find the next place that might take your fancy.
Luke and I have been traveling for 5.5 months now, and after becoming somewhat travel weary, we decided to sit still for a while. So, I jumped online, performed a few Google searches, found a wee house that was to my liking, booked it for two weeks, and here we are, loving every moment as we sit on the deck with a cup of coffee and jam on toast. If we wanted to stay here until we left for Australia we could, or, we could spend our last two weeks traveling to any place in Panama or Costa Rica that we pleased.
That is the beauty of travel.
Another important thing you learn when you're traveling is to do what you really and truly want to. Sounds simple? Well, it's not actually as straightforward as you might think.
When you arrive somewhere new, after reading your trusty Lonely Planet, you realise there are a myriad of sights to see, activities to partake in and tours to nearby locations that apparently most people at the hostel have already done, and are raving about.
You start feeling obliged to do these things too, even if watching a giant turtle lay it's eggs at 11pm that night isn't at the top of your agenda of things to do while in Costa Rica. What you really feel like doing tonight is sitting on your bum and finishing that trashy novel you've been reading for the past three days. So, that's what you should do.
A friend in Vancouver told us that on his European adventure it took him quite a long time to start doing what he really wanted to do, instead of what he thought he was supposed to do. If you want to sit around the hostel all day eating bakery goods and drinking coffee, then that's what you should do. Sometimes you need time out and you shouldn't have to feel the need to justify it. It's spontaneous not to do the activities too right? You can either not do them at all, or do them on another day, just make sure you're doing what you really want to do.
I had a vague notion of doing my Open Water Dive course here on Isla Colon in Bocas del Toro. Now, I have not only completed it, but also started on my Advanced Open Water course, because I have the freedom to decide what I want to do from day-to-day, with few to no other plans getting in the way.
That's all part of the wonderment of traveling. Once you get a job again, you can't just decide to sit at home on any random day, so do it now!
So... there are my top five rad things about traveling. I hope they have once again restored me in your esteem, and you re-key my email address into your contacts list post haste, re-friend me on Facebook, and feel justifiably bad about judging me so harshly in the first place.
If you have any other things that you love about traveling I would LOVE to hear about them in the comments.
More soon...
Travel | November 10, 2009
When I came up with the concept for this blog post, in two parts, I wasn't sure what should be part 1, and what part 2. If I did the things that sucked first you would all label me an ungrateful wench, who didn't deserve the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of traveling North and Central America for 6 months, and in fact, come to think of it, you never really liked me anyway, so it's about time you de-friended me from Facebook, deleted my phone number from your mobile phone, and just imagined that life had always been devoid of my presence.
On the other hand, if I wrote the things that rule first, you would assume I was blatantly shoving my wonderful trip in your face, aiming to tickle your jealous bone, and now that you contemplate it, I always seem to be boasting about the grand things I'm doing, and truly, you're just sick to the lower intestine of it, so this blog post is as good an incentive as any to delete my email address from your account, poke my eyes out in all the pictures you have of me, and just hope that one day my existence in your life will completely fade from memory.
So, let me just say right now, the point of these posts is to show that traveling truly has both its ups and its downs.
There are good times, when you can barely believe you're swinging in a hammock, in the fading sunshine, with a Flor de Cana rum in your hand and a night of talking, eating and laughing stretching out before you.
There are the bad times, when you've been on a bus for 10 hours already, get stuck in a traffic jam, and realise that there is no way on God's green earth that you're going to be able to find your way to the hostel in the dark, and hence will simply have to trust yourself to one of the many taxi drivers hustling travelers as they disembark at the bus stop.
And, there are the plain old mundane times, when you might as well be sitting on the couch at home, scratching your bum and watching the same bad TV you seem to be watching in the middle of Guatemala on a sunny Sunday afternoon
So, I flipped a coin, and here are the top 5 things that suck about traveling (in no particular order):
1) Border crossings
It's hot.
There is a line of people ten deep that you know will take a good 30 minutes to get through. You're number 11.
You're lugging your giant pack and day pack through the queues, money changers, and plethora of innovative hustlers at the immigration office.
You have to find the damn immigration form somewhere, but where remains a mystery. And, when you finally do find it, you're asked for a "propina voluntario" (voluntary tip) from the person that handed it to you.
Oh, and this is only the exit border.
You have to then walk through the hot, hot heat, usually for 10 minutes or so, with all your junk, avoid eye contact with a new batch of hustlers at the entry border, find the form you're supposed to fill in, maybe buy a ticket out of the country that you don't need, to somewhere you don't want to go, because that is a requirement of entry, buy a tourist visa, and then, finally, line up behind all the other weary travelers doing the exact same thing.
ARGH!
2) Organising
I know, not everyone feels the need to be as organised as me. But, I would assume, everyone must do at least some organising to get where they're going.
Which bus to get on? Where to get off? How many buses to get where you're going? Where to buy a ticket, and for how much? What hostel to stay at? How to get there? Where to go next?
I know, I can hear some of you groaning that if these are the worries of my life at the moment, then I haven't got it half bad. But, after 5 months of doing this every 3-4 days, it's started to make me feel like my head is going to explode. This is part of the reason we have chosen to sit still for two weeks at a lovely little apartment in Bocas del Toro.
3) TAXI!!!
If I had a dollar for every time that has been yelled at me while I'm walking down the street, and CLEARLY don't need a taxi, I'd be a rich woman (or at least a woman with maybe $100 extra in my pocket).
The other thing is, even though I CLEARLY don't need or want a taxi, I'm still unsure what my reaction should be.
Some of the people yelling TAXI!!! at me are people I know have yelled TAXI!!! at me for the past 3 days, so if I recognise them, surely they recognise me?
Do I need to say no again? Can I just ignore them and hope they go away? Do I shake my head? Smile politely and shrug? Give them the old hairy eyeball?
You'd think after 4 months down here, I'd know the appropriate response, but alas I do not. Instead I rotate randomly through all the above responses, hoping one of them is the right one.
Sometimes I wish I knew how to swear in Spanish.
4) Finding food
The search never seems to end. You feel like a pioneer striking your way through uncharted territory, with only your nose and a subtle sense of what's right and wrong in the food world to guide you. You sniff a little to the left, see a bunch of locals entering a seemingly innocuous-looking comedor. You hover near the door, glancing at the chalkboard menu that lists neither prices nor ingredients, hoping for some sort of sign. But, the other locals leaving the seemingly-innocuous comedor all seem to be in good health and spirits, so you figure you might as well give it a try too.
At each new town it's the same problem.
What and where to eat.
There is a subtle mix of factors that come into play when finding the ultimate place for a bite; price, location to hostel v.s. how hungry you are, menu selection, who you are going to eat with and what they like.
I, personally, get so sick of searching for places to find food that I starting blessing the hostels that provide dry toast, weird jam and black, instant coffee for breakfast. Not only does this save money, but it also removes one meal from the constant search for food.
Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE trying new things, and have adored almost all the food I have eaten on my travels. From tacos in Mexico, to comida corrientes in Nicaragua, beans and eggs in Guatemala and barbecued lobster in Belize, I've scarfed down my fair share. It's just the constant search that starts to get me down.
After eating at one good place in a town, you find yourself wanting to go back over and over for the familiarity of having a constant in your life and the ease of eating there over finding another place to dine. Once again, another reason for stopping for two weeks at an apartment with a kitchen - the search has ended (at least for a little while).
5) The Lonely Planet
The Lonely Planet is both the bane of my travels and my essential travel companion.
How is that possible? I hear you ask. Let me explain.
The Lonely Planet lets you know how to get from point A to B, what buses to catch and where to catch them. It provides hostel listings that are safe, and even a selection of relatively cheap places to eat. It also provides inspiration for choosing your next destination.
The thing I don't like is how it does it.
Lonely Planet authors write with whimsy and wonderment. They express excitement at the most boring and mundane towns, and seem to find a positive in almost every tour and activity on offer.
Why can't they just say when something is, let's be honest here, completely and utterly crap?
Why can't they let you know in plain terms that a town is dull in the extreme and not worth visiting?
Why do they omit the fact that while a hostel may have a good 'vibe' the rooms are veritable prison cells, the toilets need a good clean and the staff a surly and sullen?
I've been misled too many times to count by the Lonely Planet.
I've eaten at unauthentic, overpriced restaurants, stayed at dark and dank hostels and visited towns whose main attraction is a run-down church and a smelly market place.
Oh Lonely Planet, how I love you and hate you.
My advice for travelers in the age of the internet is to get a netbook, ditch the Lonely Planet, and have Google as your travel companion of choice.
If you want the Lonely Planet, you simply look at their website, which contains all the same information as the books. Almost every town has a hostel with wifi these days, and if not, an internet cafe, which you will be using anyway. And, if all else completely fails, borrow the Lonely Planet from one of your fellow travelers - they all have the same edition. Trust me.
So... There's my wrap up of the Top 5 things that suck about traveling. Please comment. Let me know if you've deleted me from Facebook or your email contacts, just for my own peace of mind. Also, let me know if you think I'm a unappreciative wench, truly, I'm really interested.
More soon...
Travel | October 25, 2009
Cuba, a land of contradictions, where hedonism lolls comfortably beside frugality. Where one scantily clad senorita scoffs a 500ml tub of ice-cream and another queues patiently at a ration store for her monthly quota of rice. Where dancing in the street on a Sunday afternoon is commonplace and begging for change in old Havana is a legitimate career move. This country is everything and nothing like I thought it would be. We drank mojitos and smoked cigars, but also learned a thing or two about what life is like for those that are living each day under a regime they call socialism.
Here is a round up of the good, the bad and the propaganda.
The Good:
Mojitos
Yes, they really are as good as you hoped they would be. Sitting at El Patio, a restaurant in Habana Viejo (Old Havana), on a lazy afternoon, sipping mojitos and smoking cigars is really and truly all it's cracked up to be.
Flamenco dancing
Not the traditional dance of Cuba, but catching a live performance unexpectedly on our last night was definitely a highlight. As they clapped and stamped their way through a few hours, and we drank and ate our way through a bottle of red and a delicious paella (chock full of prawns) it was hard to imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
Ice Cream
Apparently Cuba has somewhere in the region of 16 brands of ice cream. And boy, do they know their stuff. It gave me some hope that if people are at least able to afford to eat ice cream most days of their lives then things couldn't be too terrible... right?
Casa Particulars
Having the opportunity to go inside an actual Cuban home is both eye-opening and heart warming. More so when you consider that any
house that is not a Casa Particular must apply for a permit from the government to welcome a foreigner inside (I guess we would start spreading too much capitalist propaganda and create dissent among the masses). Sure, they don't let you totally into their lives, but being somewhat of a voyeur was almost enough for me.
The Bad:
National Pizza
Imagine a McCain's microwave pizza. Now imagine a pizza with a quarter of the taste and toppings of a McCain's microwave pizza. Now imagine those measly toppings being a strange tasting cheese, and a sauce that may or may not be tomato-based, all you know is that it's red. There you have NATIONAL PIZZA. The apparent lunch choice of thousands of Cubans each day, and one of the cheapest options around, costing about 20c a slice.
National Hot Dog
National Hot Dog is the other apparent lunch option for Cubans everywhere. Whether it's meat is questionable, and the mustard is surely more water than anything else, but this daily staple will create a taste sensation unlike any other you have likely experienced to date (and I'm not sure that that's a good thing).
Street Performers
As I said, begging in the streets of Habana Viejo is a legitimate career move in Cuba, with many successful entrepreneurs making more money per month than a doctor.
There are also other lucrative street careers such a singing, performing, and drawing sketches of tourists.
As Luke and I were enjoying what I would probably class as National Pasta, we noticed a gentleman with a clipboard and an intent expression sketching earnestly away for a good ten minutes, with surreptitious glances at Luke every few seconds. We knew we were about to be harassed for some money to pay for the unwanted sketch, but as I thought about it, I figured that if it was a good drawing it would probably be a nice reminder of our lunch in the shade of a giant poisianna tree. When finally the drawing was laid ceremoniously on the table in front of us I had trouble keeping my scoff from escaping and wounding this would-be-artist's pride. The drawing was laughable, something even my 10-year-old niece would not be proud to hang on the fridge door.
Luke's dreadlocks had been turned into spiraling scribbles and were the only consolation to his actual appearance, the pencil was pushed so hard onto the paper I'd imagine it would have been possible to shade over the sheet below and get a negative of the original, and the face could have been that of any old joe in the street.
Sadly we had to decline payment. My guilt didn't last long however, as I saw him wander immediately to another unsuspecting diner.
Casa Particulars
Yes avid reader, you are correct, this was also listed in The Good list, but staying at a Casa did have its downsides. As you may gave guessed from my listings about National Pizza and National Hot Dog, dining in Cuba isn't always the highlight of a trip to the Caribbean Island. But, somehow, Casas manage to source amazing food from somewhere, and we dined on Lobster not one, not two, but four times during our stay.
However, there is sometimes quite an intense amount of pressure to take up the owner's kindly offered breakfast and dinner services as they try and squeeze as many tourist dollars as possible from their foreign guests. So, we ate at the Casas a lot, especially for breakfast.
And, because I do know how hard it is to source food in Cuba, I found myself politely swallowing whole a variety of foods that were not to my liking. For example, a plate of guava washed down with fresh guava juice so thick a straw would stand up unaided in its pink depths, mounds of glistening papaya (paw paw for the Aussies), swished down with a mammoth glass of dark-orange papaya juice, and bread so stale it could probably be classed as a crouton. But, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and by the end my aversion to papaya had decreased immensely.
The Propaganda:
Signs
While in Cuba there is no real advertising of any kind, for that next pair of jeans you have to buy, the shampoo that will make your hair oh-so-silky-smooth or the tea that will slim your waist in a matter of weeks, there is advertising of a different kind.
Slogans like Patriotism or Die really rammed home the reality of a life in Cuba, where poets, artists and nouveau-revolutionaries that dare to question the socialist word are locked up in jail like murderers and common thieves.
Images of happy workers, in blue shirts and hard hats, lined up side-by-side, loving their country and it's repression truly hit a nerve.
The propaganda lined the streets for all to see.
Dual currency
For those that don't know, there are two currencies in Cuba: the Convertible (CUC) and the National Peso. National Pesos are only supposed to be for Cubans, and it's the money in which their wages are paid.
Convertibles were created for the tourists, and any product or service worth having in Cuba is paid for in Convertibles.
Technically tourists are not supposed to have pesos, but you can easily change CUCs for pesos at the Cadeca (change booth). However, all you are likely to buy with your pesos is National Pizza or National Hot Dog.
Tourism itself, and the CUC to add insult to injury, have created a situation in Cuba where locals flirt dangerously close to capitalism, but never with any real follow through.
They need the CUC's to buy shampoo, electronics, anything other than basic food items, and so much more. But, to get them they either have to exchange their precious pesos (they only get paid about 300 pesos a month), open a Casa, have a market stall, beg on the street, or partake in some other endeavour which is purely capitalistic in nature.
They are hugely desired and make the local currency pretty must useless (and also worthless, there are 25 pesos to 1 CUC).
Casa Particulars
Yes, Casas feature once again. Part of the reason for the insistence on eating at your host's house has to do with the regulations that are enforced on Casa Particular owners in Cuba.
They must pay between $100CUC and $250CUC per month to the government for this privilege, whether they have guests or not. They are allowed only two rooms in their house, and only two people in each room. Plus, Casas are banned from resort areas such as Varadero, a 22km stretch of pristine sand east of Habana that is crowded with all-inclusives.
They need all the money they can get, and they will politely insist, with a smile on their face and their intentions on their sleeve, that you partake in another huge lobster meal to keep them afloat.
Museo de la Revolucion
The museum of the revolution recounts the history of Cuba's emancipation from Spain, as well as the subsequent rule of Castro and his entourage.
This is an intensely interesting topic for many, and for the most part you can get some sense of how it all transpired through a visit to the majestic building.
There are, however, some things that just don't sit right.
For example, Americans are constantly being referred to as yankees, the enemy, and the imperialist invaders. They are accused of many questionable acts, all of which could not possibly be true.
Sure, we know they didn't play nice, but the museum, which sees crowds of school children through its halls each day, really takes it to another level, in what could only be considered brain washing to those young, innocent minds.
You do get to see a pair of Che's pants though, so maybe it's all worth it...?
So, what did I think of Cuba?
So, from what you can see, Cuba left an indelible print on my mind. People keep asking me if I liked it, and I truly haven't been able to answer that question. Maybe I need more time to absorb it, and figure out how sometimes the world can get it so wrong, while at the same time the people do seem legitimately happy (at least to an outside observer). But, imagining what it might be like to live and work in Cuba would run the risk of trivialising it, so I won't try.
I think a fellow traveler summed it up best. In Cuba, you feel like a spectator. You can see what's going on, and maybe even why, but it's hard to imagine really feeling like part of that life.
Bay's career has been many and varied due to a penchant for traveling the world. After completing a double degree in Business Management and Journalism at the University of Queensland in 2002 she was lucky enough to land herself a job at Brisbane's Quest Community Newspapers. A year of roving reporting brought the epiphany that journalism and Bay didn't jive.
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