Santiago, Chile

My year on the road had almost come to an end, and the final stop was to be in Santiago, Chile. Besides the exorbitant prices (compared to the rest of South America), it was a great place to end the trip. A well developed, clean, accessible city with temperatures lingering around 30 degrees all week, a superb hostel, and most importantly, great company.

On Sunday afternoon I met up with Constanza, a girl I got chatting to on Couchsurfing. We went to the nearby Parque Arauco with some of her friends from the United States, and spent the evening enjoying the sunset over a picnic and some beers, gazing at the impressively large moon hanging low over the horizon.

The next day over breakfast I made friends with a few Aussies and Brits, and we spent the afternoon on the city walking tour. We learned about the infamous Salvador and Pinochet governments of Chile's past, but perhaps the most interesting story for me was that of Chile's dog culture. With so many stray dogs to be seen all over the city, our guide explained why they looked perfectly groomed and healthy. It turns out a lot of people in Santiago will care for and feed the dogs, some even going to the trouble of giving them the required vaccines and neutering them. They get enjoyment out of sitting in the park and being able to enjoy the company of a dog for a while, without having to take them home and pick up their poo.

The dogs there really are a different breed (pun intended) however. They look both ways before crossing the street, or sometimes even wait for the green man to light up before walking. They walk around with a focussed look on their face, as if they legitimately have an appointment to make, and I even heard stories of them taking buses to other neighbourhoods.

Another interesting facet of Santiago culture we learned about was the "Coffee with Legs" phenomenon. At some point in the past, someone decided that more men would come to coffee shops if there were girls in short skirts serving them. So, a bunch of these sexy coffee shops sprung up over the city, some even going to the extent of being a strip club, with a side of coffee. Of course, being a group of young boys, we made a beeline for one of these places as soon as the tour ended. 

We walked back to the dodgy looking establishment that was pointed out to us during the tour, complete with black tinted windows and a small neon sign showing "Cafe". We walked in and immediately stood out as the overexcited gringos, and sat down for one of the most interesting, and surprisingly decent coffees I'd had in a long time.

With the Aussies and Brits leaving the next day, it was time to find a new gang. So on Wednesday I went out with two Americans to Cerro Santa Lucía to get a nice view of the city. Afterwards we walked around the Bellas Artes neighbourhood, sampling a few delicious empañadas, and then visited the fish markets. In the evening we went to the upscale wine bar Bocanáriz, and proceeded to down a bunch of incredible Chilean wines. Luckily, one of the Americans was in Santiago to progress his career as a Somelier, so we were guided by someone who knew what he was tasting.

With the Americans at Cerro Santa Lucía

On Thursday I hiked up Cerro San Cristobal, to get an even better view of the city, stopping by the Zoo halfway up the mountain. On the way down I popped in to La Chascona, an intriguingly designed house built by famous Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, for one of his many mistresses. 

The next day I went shopping with Jessica, a girl from Buenos Aires who was staying in my dorm at the hostel, and made good use out of my credit card, replacing many of the clothes that had over the past 12 months become increasingly dirty, small and worn out. We had an ice cream at Emporio La Rosa, voted by one website as one of the best 25 ice cream shops in the world, and spent the afternoon in Parque Arauco taking in the beautiful weather. 

As I was enjoying Santiago so much, I only had time to do a day trip of Valparaíso and Viña del Mar. I'd definitely have stayed longer if I had the time, but I already had plans for the next day.

Funnily enough, I have a relative who lives in Santiago, and so a couple of days earlier I got in contact with them. They invited me over for a barbeque, and some delicious Chilean beer and wine. It was a bit strange to be in the heart of Santiago, and having a barbecue and a chat with 3 strong Scottish accents, but it was a great way to end the weekend and my time in Santiago.

Valparaíso

On the way back, I stopped by Paruqe Arauco once more to enjoy the final sunset of my trip, and briefly reflect on the year that had been. There wasn't one prominent feeling or emotion at the front of my mind, it was more like there were dozens of them floating around, cancelling the other one out. I was sad that it was over, happy that I was going home, dying to see my family and friends again, yet devastated that some genuinely special people I'd met I will probably never see again. I was completely exhausted from the entire trip, yet excited for the next one. I was upset that some of the most incredible experiences of my life were over, but glad the bad ones were too. Having got nowhere on deciding which feeling would win out over the others, I made my way back to the hostel and begun to pack my bag. That was one thing I certainly wouldn't miss doing for a while.

Parque Arauco

Easter Island, Chile

Over the past 12 months travelling around South and Central America, I’d only ever met one person who’d been to Easter Island (Isla de Pascua in Spanish, or Rapa Nui as it was originally named), and he highly recommended visiting. I’ve always been interested by things a little different to the norm, and the idea of setting foot on one of the most remote inhabited islands in the world intrigued me. The problem was trying to find reasonably priced flights. The first time I checked several months ago, return flights were in excess of $1,000.

I kept my eye on the prices, until the start of the new year when I found return flights from Santiago (Tahiti is the only other place in the world that flies to Easter Island) for about $600. This was enough to tempt me and I bought the flights immediately.

Before I begin to cover my time in Easter Island, I need to go over my flight from São Paulo to Santiago. Before I left home last year, I’d spent the previous 12 months racking up up a considerable amount of Frequent Flyer points by signing up to credit card promotions, and so I used up a chunk of them in upgrading my flight to Business Class. This was my first time ever flying Business, and I can now safely say that it’s ruined Economy flying for me for life. Now every time I fly, I know exactly what I’m missing out on behind those curtains.

Excuse the dirty socks...

The differences are incredible. First of all, the hostesses are considerably more happy to see you. You’re first to enter the plane (you want to get the most out of your next couple of hours of luxury), upon which you’re given a glass of water, a small bowl of nuts, and a hot towel to refresh yourself. After taking off, a meal soon comes out, and this is probably the greatest benefit over Economy, because the food is actually a LAND SIZED SERVING. Not crammed into a tiny tin foil container that you have to wrestle your food out of, trying not to not burn or cut yourself in the process. The wine (you get to chose out of 4 different ones) and bread are seemingly infinite in supply and are constantly offered to you before you can finish the previous one.The toilets are nicer, and also include hand wash, body lotion, and aftershave - all of which I made good use of. Whilst only going for a quick wee, the other passengers must’ve though I left a horrible surprise in the toilet, because I came out smelling way too good.

Buen provecho!

You get proper, over-the-ear headphones, and a higher quality screen to watch your movies in. Not to mention, the whole movie experience is enhanced by the fact that your chair (bed) FULLY RECLINES into an almost 180 degrees position. You get a pillow and a soft, thick, fluffy blanket, which the hostess gently drapes over you with a smile. I watched The Martian with Matt Damon, then after a few more wines I drifted off to sleep. 20 minutes later I had probably the second sweetest wake up of my life, as the air hostess slowly stroked my shoulder and whispered “señor, señor” as we begun to descend back to my economy class reality.

I spent less than 24 hours in Santiago, then was back in the air towards Easter Island, some 5 hours of flying and just under 4,000km out from Santiago. Luckily, the adjustment back to Economy Class was aided by getting an exit row seat. The runway was actually extended in the 1980s by the US for use as an emergency landing strip by NASA space shuttles, and since then it's allowed for full size aircraft to move to and from Easter Island.

Patricia, the owner of the hostel I was staying at, was waiting for me at the airport, complete with a sign and flower necklace which she presented to me upon arrival. We walked back to her hostel, chatting in broken spanish and admiring the incredible view of the night sky. 

On Tuesday morning I hired a bike and planned to ride over to Orongo and see the Rano Kau crater. I rode for a while, stopped when I saw the sign for “Orongo Trek”, locked my bike up and walked the next hour or so to the top, only upon arriving to realise there was a tarmac road I could’ve taken my bike along the whole way. Great. In the afternoon I joined up with a tour group, which took us to Puna Pau, the quarry from which the Rapa Nui locals made the hats for their moai, finishing up at Ahu Akivi.

The moai statues really are incredible to see up close. And they get even more incredible when you learn how they were carved using such primitive tools. Then your mind is blown once more trying to figure out how they moved these enormous and ridiculously heavy things tens of kilometres across the island. I won't try to educate you on the entire history of Rapa Nui, so if you want to learn more, go to the Wikipedia article.

Rano Kau

I had a full day tour take up all of Wednesday, taking us to some of the best spots of the island, such as the moai quarry at Rano Raraku. An incredible place where the moai were all sculpted from, and there you can see moai almost everywhere. We visited Tongariki just before lunch, then spent the afternoon a tthe beautiful Ahakena beach. In the evening I went to a show of local song and dance, and enjoyed a few of the Rapa Nui pale ales.

In between scouting the many moai on the island, I visited the local museum, and spent a great deal of time haggling at the local markets for souvenirs. I don't usually buy a lot of souvenirs, as my backpack is incredibly small for a one year trip, and most of the things you see are cheap and tacky anyway. Yet the same tacky items seem to have a bit more charm when you can tell people you bought them from Easter Island.

On Friday I went scuba diving all morning, which included a dive to see an underwater moai (unfortunately it’s fake and was placed there for a movie. Nevertheless, it was still impressive). The second dive took us through some coral reefs, where the visibility was incredible, however there wasn't much marine life to see.

Scuba diving with the underwater Moai

In the afternoon I visited the post office to get a "Isla de Pascua" stamp in my passport, then went to see the sunset down at the beach, before heading over to a hotel to see a screening of Kevin Costner's 1994 film Rapa Nui. The acting was at times laughably poor, yet it was cool to get an idea of what life might have been like on the island back in it's heyday.

Easter Island is a place I feel extremely privileged to have had the chance (and the money) to visit. However, It's super expensive - I realise just how adjusted I am to South American prices when I baulked at having to pay $6 for a beer - yet you can't blame them, considering the extremely remote location.

It feels more like a country town squeezed into an island, and the way the locals all know each other sometimes makes it feel like you're in the middle of an episode of Postman Pat. It's a place you can quickly slip into the rhythm of. There's little care for time, as most places don't really get going until 9 or 10 a.m., and the fact that the sun doesn't set until 9 p.m. means no one is in a rush to get home either. It's a place I remember learning about in early Primary School, and thinking I'd love to visit, but probably never get a chance to in my lifetime. Now, it gets added to the list of places I've been on this trip, and one that I feel incredibly lucky to say I've seen.

The Brazil Return

It's been a while since my last entry, but I have a good excuse - Carnaval happened. There was little time to sit in front of a computer, editing my photos and trying to turn my thoughts and experiences into words. Now that it's over, I've finally had the time to take a (quick) breather, while I wait at the airport in Rio de Janeiro.

After Quito, I spent an entire day enduring a ridiculous flight itinerary (Quito to Bogotá, Bogotá to Panama City, Panama City to São Paulo), to then fly the next morning to Belo Horizonte. It was all worth it of course, to return to the place where  I made an amazing last year friend in Maria. She invited me to stay with her for Carnaval, where we could once again party it up with her and her friends.

Walking back into her apartment, where I spent over a week back in April last year, it felt like I was returning home. That feeling was helped by the fact that Maria had sent me a key to her apartment back when I was in Recife, so it really did feel like I was opening the door of my own house. I was able to unpack my bag completely, and have my own bedroom and shower. We had home cooked meals, my laundry was done for me and we spent a fair bit of time on the couch watching Netflix. After 11 months of travelling out of two small bags, a break from the traditional backpacking experience was exactly what I needed.

We partied for days on end, then took a few days off to recover, where we ate a lot of Japanese food, watched TV shows, went to the cinema and even adopted an abandoned puppy for Maria on the day I left.

Just as I had expected, it was another special experience with some great friends, and the return to Belo Horizonte only cemented our plans to catch up again somewhere in the world in the near future. I had plans to fly to Sao Paulo for 2 nights after Belo Horizonte, but decided to stay in Belo Horizonte for a couple more nights to recover from a bug I still seem to be shaking off (to be fair the heavy partying didn't help).

Nevertheless my time in Belo with Maria came to an end, and I spent the following 2 nights back in Rio de Janeiro, I place I just can't seem to bypass when I'm nearby. It's such an incredibly picturesque city. Whether it's due to it's beauty, the fact that it was Carnaval, or maybe just because the amount of special memories I have in this city, it always has a unique feeling which to me brings a lot of happiness.

Unfortunately, I only had one full day to enjoy Rio, and being a Saturday during Carnaval, it was impossible to do the one thing I really wanted to do - hang gliding over the city. But, it makes for a good excuse to return again one day. I met up with Lydia, who works in a hostel I stayed at last time I was in Rio, and we walked around the city, eating and drinking our way around Ipanema, Leblon, Copacabana. We finished the day enjoying the sunset on Ipanema beach, then went for dinner at one of my favourite Brazilian restaurants, Fogo de Chão.

We ate way more than anyone should have in one sitting, but the meats are too delicious to say no to, until you've actually reached the point of being in pain from eating so much. Hopefully, the rest in Belo Horizonte and the amount of food I ate in Rio will give me the energy for the last leg of the trip - Chile, and one other surprise destination... stay tuned!

Sunset at Ipanema Beach

My 27th Birthday

The final bus ride, out of Colombia and into Ecuador, wasn't any easier than the previous few I'd taken recently. We were stopped for about 2 hours while a bike competition passed through, so we didn't arrive until about 6 p.m. After starting to stress when the bus driver couldn't find my checked bag, he finally found it and I was on my way to the hostel.

As I was still suffering from some mystery bug or virus, I was quite looking forward to doing nothing in Quito. I'd almost resigned myself to staying in bed on my 27th birthday, until I was convinced by Carolina to meet up with her and celebrate the day. She kindly bought lunch for me at a sushi restaurant, then we went to the Quicentro shopping mall so I could replace some clothes that in truth should've been thrown out months before. We shared some ice-cream and a juice in the afternoon before I headed back to the hostel and in to bed. Considering I'd never met Carolina before (we'd only met and talked via Couchsurfing), and the fact that she'd been up since 2a.m. that day working at the airport, it was an incredibly nice gesture from her that not only made me feel a little better, but made what could've easily been an unforgettable birthday into a really nice day.

Lunch with Carolina

The next day I met up with another friend off Couchsurfing, Keika, whom I met when I was last in Quito in September 2015. For the second time in two days I was spoiled, this time Keika and her boyfriend buying me a birthday cake after our lunch together. Again I was made to feel incredibly lucky by the awesome people that I've met whilst travelling.

Birthday cake with Keika and Mauricio

In between this I spent a lot of time laying in bed and watching tv shows, while recovering. I've been pretty lucky on this trip so far in terms of getting sick, never having needed to go to the doctors. But even the mystery bug/illness aside, travelling for one year certainly takes it out of you.

When I first started this trip, I met other travellers who had been going for months on end, and they would tell me, "I just feel tired all of the time". I didn't get it then, but now I can certainly appreciate the feeling. And not only is my body tired, my clothes and luggage look tired too.

It's been great to settle down in Quito for a few days, see old friends and make new ones, and recharge the batteries. I needed it, because I can't see myself getting much of a rest over the next few weeks during Carnaval in Brazil!

Ipiales, Colombia

Unfortunately, the only way out of San Agustin was back out through the horrible road I came in on. This meant another 5 or so hours on the bus, after which I didn't dream of spending the night on another bus to Ipiales, so spent another night back in Popayán.

I was back at the bus station early the next morning, and again spent the whole day on a bus to Ipiales. Thinking I'd be safe in shorts and a t-shirt during a day bus, I was unpleasantly surprised to find the air conditioning on full blast. I grew colder and colder as the trip wore on, and finally arrived in Ipiales in the early evening. To make matters worse it was freezing in Ipiales when I got off the bus, and I couldn't stop myself shivering as I waited for my bag. I picked the first hotel I saw, which was conveniently located across the road from the bus station, and booked a room for the night.

Hotel Metropol was everything you'd expect out of a hotel located across the road from a bus terminal. It seemed like the place you'd go if you'd had an argument with your wife and got kicked out of the house. The red neon sign out the front flashing 'agua caliente' got my hopes up, only to be torn straight down as I hopped under the shower - a metal pipe protruding from the wall - to receive one thick stream of lukewarm water.

Yet, I spent the night here in order to see the spectacular Las Lajas Sanctuary. And it was worth it.

Las Lajas Sanctuary

Cali, Popayán and San Agustin - Colombia

It's been a while since my last post, partly due to endless late nights in Cali, and partly due to being sick of late. The first of which probably caused the latter.

Known as the world capital of salsa, I thought it would be rude to not sign up for some classes upon arriving in Cali. This was probably my best opportunity to try to improve my dancing skills, and since almost every nightclub in Cali is a salsa club, I didn't really have too much choice if I wanted to go out. Yet, after heading out to a popular salsa club one night, I lost any smidgin of confidence I had in my abilities after my first class, from watching the locals fly through all different kinds of moves at a million miles per hour. I ended up taking a few more classes and improved somewhat, yet still have a lot of work left if I'd ever want to mix it with the latinos.

When in Cali ... 💃🏿

A video posted by Cameron Yorke (@camyorke) on

Unfortunately after leaving Cali I started to become ill, which involved a dodgy stomach (probably from the food/water), and a sore neck (probably from bad hostel beds) which I'm still getting over. It seems as though later on in this trip, its taking longer to shake these kind of things.

On Sunday I took the bus to Popayán, and joined in with the newly started city walking tour the next day. The highlight for me of course being a restaurant we stopped by to try out some local delicacies.

It seemed everyone in the dorm room in Popayán was sick, so I wasn't keen to spend much time there. But unfortunately, the road to San Agustin is underdeveloped to say the least, so I felt every bump, twist and turn in my stomach and neck. Luckily the hostel, Casa de Nelly, was a great place to spend a few days recovering.

Salento, Colombia

I took advantage of another cheap VivaColombia flight to save myself the 8 or so hour journey by bus to Salento. 

Salento is a sleepy little town in the Quindío department, in the Zona Cafetera region of Colombia, where tourists and locals alike stop by to appreciate the incredibly scenic landscapes of rolling green farm paddocks, and the famous 60 feet tall wax palms found in the Valle de Cocora (Cocora Valley).

Cocora Valley

Luckily, I was reunited with part of the gang that made Bogotá so enjoyable in Maria and Jake, and along with Marsy whom I met in a diner during dinner, we set out on the at times arduous trek of the Valle de Cocora. We (Maria) complained all of the way up the "Wall of Pain", a 40 minute or so uphill trek, but the views at the top were well worth it, and some of the most picturesque I've seen in my travels around South and Central America.

Marsy, Maria, Jake and I, with the Cocora Valley behind us

In the afternoon, Marsy and I went on a tour of the Don Elias coffee farm, a small family run farm that undertakes the entire process without the aid of automated machinery. We learned about the coffee process from picking the beans to roasting and grinding, then were treated to a fresh cup of coffee from the farm's produce.

Maria, Jake and I shared a few bottles of wine at Marsy's hostel in the evening, where a Colombian band played some very Peruvian sounding music until midnight. Then we bid each other a final (and slightly tipsy) goodbye as again the gang was to be split up the next day. Fortunately, we're likely to bump into each other again as Maria and Jake have plans to make it to Australia this year, however in the meantime it's a brief bus ride to Cali, the apparent Salsa capital of South America and the next stop on my way towards Quito, where I plan to enjoy my 27th birthday.

Bogotá, Colombia

I arrived in the country’s capital just after lunch on Sunday, and spent the afternoon wandering around the suburb of La Candelaria, stopping by the Botero and Gold Museums. La Candelaria is part of downtown Bogotá, and between the many dive bars, backpacker hostels and cafes, the walls are plastered with some fascinating street art, albeit surrounded by graffiti. Unfortunately, after sunset the area becomes pretty sketchy and whenever I was walking back to the hostel at night with friends we would always be approached by a couple of shady characters.

Monday was a public holiday in Colombia, and I quickly realised how frustrating public holidays are whilst travelling as almost everything worth seeing is closed. So, I took the opportunity to get some exercise in and took a run along one of the main roads which was closed for Ciclovia, a feature of Bogotá where people can run, bicycle or skate along many main or secondary roads in the city.

In the afternoon, Aaron, Satu and I joined up with the Graffiti City Walking Tour, where a guide walked us around La Candelaria, giving us a bit of a history lesson behind many of the impressive murals that surrounded us.

Street art in La Candelaria

On Tuesday I began to wonder whether I am heavily addicted to caffeine, or just appreciate a good cup of coffee, as I went to the effort of taking the Transmilenio bus 25 minutes uptown just to sample some of Bogota’s best coffee at Azahar cafe, a sea container which has been transformed into a hipster coffee shop. Funnily enough after I’d had the coffee I stopped wondering.

Back in La Candelaria, we had now formed a small group of fellow solo travellers from around the world, so whilst Aaron stayed in bed recovering from a dodgy lunch the previous day, Satu, Maria and I had some beers at the Bogotá Brewing Company, and then embarked on a mini pub crawl, which ended with us sharing a bottle of tequila at the only pub open near our hostel and crawling into bed at just after 1 a.m.

The beds at the hostel didn’t lend themselves to a good night’s rest, so after about 5 hours sleep I hopped out of bed and went to the gym (I must have still been drunk). Later on that day, Aaron and I took the funicular (I had no idea what it was either), up Cerro de Monserrate to get a nice view of Bogotá.

Bogotá from Monserrate

We backed up the partying for another night, this time with Aaron joining us, and after several drinks at the hostel bar we found ourselves at the strippers. Satu had never been to the strippers before and well, I didn’t need any more convincing. 

Sometimes, good company can just creep up and you and before you know it, you’ve spent the last couple of days with the same people and haven’t had an awkward silence, argument or even a disagreement on where to eat. The only odd thing was that it wasn’t til we were all sat around a table inside the strip club, and the stripper was in the middle of one of her impressively flexible routines, that it hit me (the thought, not the stripper). The fact that we all got along so well was what made the next day possible.

We met up at the hostel at around 11 a.m., all hungover and surprised at each other for making the previously agreed appointment of visiting the famous Salt Cathedral. Being a full day trip in itself, we caught two buses to the nearby town of Zipaquira and then walked up what was nearly too many stairs to explore the salt mines and visit the underground cathedral. On the way back we were caught in traffic, which added another hour to our journey, and in total we probably spent around 5 hours in transit, for about only 1 hour actually visiting the cathedral. Yet, the good company made an otherwise enduring day surprisingly enjoyable.

Zipaquira Cathedral

Unfortunately, the group was split up that night, as Aaron and Satu took the bus to Medellín, and I moved out of the hostel to the upscale neighbourhood of Quinta Camacho, which is much more approachable than La Candelaria, and full of nice restaurants, bars and cafes.

On my last day in Bogotá I met up with Lily, a Bogotá local (Rola) whom I met off Couchsurfing. We met in the neighbourhood of Usaquén, which feels kind of like a separate downtown for the surrounding upscale neighbourhoods. The streets are littered with bars, cafes, restaurants, and street markets. And unlike La Candelaria, you can let your guard down and soak up the atmosphere.

After a beer and some waffles, we headed to the popular Andrés Carne de Res, a mind-blowing multi story bar-pub-restaurant-nightclub rolled in to one, exploding with an in-your-face (yet not tacky) party atmosphere, all sorts of surreal decor and impressive shows. All the while maintaining a traditional Colombian feel. We had some empanadas, a few refajos (beer mixed with soda), and hit the dance floor where Lily taught me how to dance salsa and meringue. It could've been the tequila shots that Maria and her boyfriend ordered for us, but it was probably the least retarded I have ever felt while trying to salsa at a nightclub. Or maybe I'm just getting better.

Colombia is the gift that keeps on giving. I'm continually meeting incredibly interesting and generous people who are more than happy to give me a genuine into their country and culture, and each city I visit just reinforces that feeling. Bogotá didn't come as highly recommended as Medellín, but it's a place I will leave with many fond memories, and certainly a city I'd like to visit again.

Santa Marta, Colombia

I arrived in Santa Marta via the budget airline VivaColombia, which is proving handy in allowing me to avoid many arduous bus journeys around the country, and at a decent price. Yet, you get (or don't get) what you pay for - the check in lines are always huge and you aren't actually assigned a seat on the plane, it's just a free for all.

Yet I did arrive, in one (albeit bigger) piece following the excessive drinking and eating in Medellín over the festive season. Now in 2016, I was about to kick off the year with a 4 day trek to Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City). A good way to burn off those extra calories.

I could perhaps take the easy way out and describe the Ciudad Perdida trek as a poor man's Inca Trail. Let that create the picture for you, but it was much better than that. The trek wasn't as technically difficult, nor exhausting, but still tough. The humidity added a different type of discomfort, and in trying to pack light most of us wore the same pair of clothes (that never dried) each day. As it was high season, almost all of the villages along the way were overflowing with fellow trekkers, so we were resigned to sleeping in hammocks for all but the final night, where we were afforded the luxury of a bed. I say bed, yet mine was merely some planks of wood underneath a mattress the thickness of a slice of bread. Surprisingly, I enjoyed better sleep than I had had in the first 2 nights in Santa Marta. But that's another story.

Along with my ability to sleep in the most uncomfortable of positions, I discovered something else about my body - my bowels have a mind of their own. The sight of the not so welcoming toilets along the trail seemed to render my bowels inactive. I became a bit more forceful after it reached day 3 without a "movement", yet they remained stubborn. And it wasn't until I was back in Santa Marta, with some bathrooms I could actually relax in, that everything returned to normal. Well, I hope I was able to explain that as eloquently as I think I did, but to clean your mind of that image, here's the view we were treated to after reaching The Lost City.

Day 3 - Ciudad Perdida

Following the trek, I arrived back in Santa Marta on Thursday night. I had to make a few trips around the city to pick up my backpack, and my laundry from the previous hostel I was at, then I took a cab 20 minutes out of the city to The Dreamer Hostel. Only to dump my bags at reception and find out that I'd screwed up the booking. Not an ideal situation to be in when every other place in town is booked out, as I learned, as Colombians flock to the coastal towns for vacations during January.

I searched for hostels on my phone and found only one in town that had a bed free. So, I called the dive shop to rearrange my pickup for the next day's diving, then took a taxi to Color Hostel. Upon arriving I was promptly told they in fact had no beds available and HostelWorld was incorrectly displaying availability. Almost resigned to spending $80 on a hotel for the night, I sat down and, whilst playing with the hostel dog, searched for something cheaper on my phone. After about 10 minutes, Veronica, the owner of the hostel, came up to me and offered me a bed in their house at the back of the hostel, an extremely kind gesture that lived up to the reputation of Colombians and saved me a lot of time, money and frustration.

I spent the next day diving in the nearby town of Taganga, which, compared to the amount of incredible diving I was able to experience in Central America, was disappointing. I dabbled with some nice restaurants, cafes and ice cream shops around Santa Marta in the little time I had to relax in the city, but now it's time to tighten the pursestrings a little. Starting with foregoing a VivaColombia flight to spend 16 hours on a bus to Bogotá tonight.

Medellín, Colombia

Medellín's reputation preceded my arrival, as for months prior to last Tuesday I was constantly told by other travellers, "You'll love Medellín, you'll want to move there". Often I take these recommendations with a pinch of salt, yet I never once heard a bad, nor even a mediocre word about Medellín, and Colombia in general. They were all right.

The unique sculptures of Colombian artist Fernando Botero, in Botero Plaza

I made changes to my roughly planned trail through Colombia, as I wanted to spend Christmas in Medellín. I'll admit I was a little nervous about Christmas and New Year approaching - being a solo traveller around the festive period does make you miss your family and close friends, so I wanted to make sure I still had a good time. Luckily however, Sara put me in touch with Alecxa, a girl from Medellín (a Paisa) who was incredibly welcoming in not only making sure I had a great time during my stay here, but also inviting me to a Christmas party at her boyfriend Craig's house in the suburb of Envigado, the same suburb where the famed drug lord Pablo Escobar lived.

I flew in from Cartagena on the 22nd, and on the bus to my hostel I met a few other solo travellers from Melbourne and the USA. After checking in to our hostels, which were conveniently located next to each other in the upscale neighbourhood of Poblado, we shared a few pizzas, some travel stories, and our plans for Christmas and New Year's Eve.

It was going to be a little more difficult to fit in some sightseeing around the festive period, but before Christmas arrived I wanted to check out the Real City Walking Tour of Medellín. It's a little odd that a walking tour comes with such high praise, yet many people had urged me to do it. Again, their recommendations were spot on. We were fortunate in being assigned the owner of the company, Pablo, as our tour guide, and for the next 4 hours he proceeded to deliver an incredibly enthusiastic, engaging and heartfelt performance in telling us the story of Medellín, and it's transformation from one of the most dangerous cities in the world to a friendly, safe, culturally rich and diverse tourist destination.

Pablo delivering one of his many animated stories

The tour ended after sunset, where I braved the chaotic crowds of downtown to buy a Secret Santa present for the Christmas Eve Dinner at Craig's house. I made it back to the hostel in one piece and with all my belongings, so after a shower I took a walk around the nearby Parque Lleras. Often the starting point of many nights out, Parque Lleras is only a few minutes walk from where I was staying at the Purple Monkey Hostel, and surrounded by cafes, restaurants, bars and nightclubs and is often full of young people hanging out and enjoying many a cheap drink (less than AUD$1 for a local beer!). Funnily enough, I bumped into Alecxa and Craig there, so we hung out in the park for a while then shared a bottle of Rum at a nearby bar.

On Christmas Eve I first had a beer at the rooftop bar of the hostel with the owner Mark, who I met in Rio de Janeiro during Carnaval back in 2012. Then along with my Secret Santa Present, a bottle of Rum, some bags of ice and two take-away pizzas (my contribution to the pot luck dinner), I took a taxi over to Craig's house to spend Christmas Eve as it should be spent - eating, drinking, and as a bonus - making a bunch of new friends in the process. This continued well into the early hours of the morning where I waited until 6 a.m. to catch the Metro with Alecxa's friend Paula, back to Poblado, as the sun rose over Medellín on Christmas morning.

Christmas Eve at Craig's house

The first half of Christmas day was spent catching up on some much needed sleep. Then in the afternoon I hung out with Jehan (the guy from Melbourne I met on the bus) and some friends at the hostel BBQ with a bottle of red wine. I was also able to finally open the Christmas card from my parents that I'd been carrying around for a couple of months. I went to bed early to get some rest before the day trip out to Guatapé with Alecxa, Craig and a few others the next day.

Christmas Day at Purple Monkey Hostel

With Christmas and Boxing Day over, I had a couple of days to do some more sightseeing. I visited Pueblito Paisa (a reconstruction of a typical village of Antioquia, the state in which Medellín is located), walked around and people watched in Parque Berrío, saw the Christmas lights in Plaza Mayor, took a ride on the MetroCable, visited the Museum of Modern Art, and treated myself to a traditional local dish - Bandeja Paisa. This plate will make your arteries quiver in fear as soon as it's put down on your table with a loud thud, as it's overflowing with all kinds of fried, but oh so tasty food.

A very hearty Bandeja Paisa from the excellent Restaurante Hacienda

Falling more and more in love with this charming city nested within a valley, it's delicious food, great coffee, incredibly nice people, year-round spring-like weather and unbelievable abundance of beautiful women, I wasn't ready to leave, so I decided to stay for New Year's Eve. The night started in it's usual manner - drinking at the hostel with friends and moving to Parque Lleras, then heading to a rave and finally ending by crawling in to bed with a bottle of water and a packet of jerky at 4 a.m.

I'm still not ready to leave, yet I don't think I ever would be. Medellín simultaneously lived up to and surpassed all expectations I had of this place, and I owe a lot of that to Alecxa and Craig, who I'm extremely grateful for having met, and who helped make it a Christmas and New Year's to remember. At times spent in cafés in Poblado, I found myself daydreaming of a life where I did decide to move here, get a job, learn Spanish (properly), and marry a Paisa. It might happen one day, but on the 10 month anniversary of the day I left home and with only 2 months remaining, I'm looking forward to delving deeper into this captivating country that's fast catching up to Brazil as my favourite.

Medellín from Pueblito Paisa

Cartagena, Colombia

It was a late night last night, and a long day, and it's late, so I really can't be bothered writing a lot right now. But, I don't want to do the beautiful city of Cartagena, my first stop in Colombia (which so far has been amazing, just like everyone told me), and injustice. So Instead, just like I did in high school, I'll make it look like I've written a lot more than I really have through the use of pictures, graphs and anything else I can think of.

First of all, Cartagena was HOT:

Cartagena Temperatures °C

Well, that's what it felt like anyway. I didn't check the actual temperatures. It was hot and humid the entire time, but early in the morning or late at night, it was a beautiful city to walk around.

The famous Torre del Reloj, or Clock Tower.

Cartagena's old city is undoubtedly it's main attraction, particularly the inner "Walled City". It is a real gem of colonial architecture, packed with churches, monasteries, plazas, palaces and mansions with their overhanging balconies and shady patios. The old town is surrounded by Las Murallas, the thick walls built to protect it against enemies since the 16th century.

Inside the Walled City.

The weirdest activity of Cartagena (and the whole trip thus far) was the volcano "mud bath" we hopped into yesterday afternoon. I don't know how, or why this is considered a thing to do here, but it is. And so me, Marc and Finna (whom I met on the San Blas Islands cruise) stripped down to our undies and jumped in. With a bunch of strangers.

It supposedly has some healing qualities for your skin and bones, although I'd bet those benefits are questionable at best. There are bits of debris all in the mud, which you don't know (or want to know) what they are, and there are tens of other and legs touching you all at once. There are locals sitting in the mud all day that offer massages - oddly enough they're all men. Then, after you've enjoyed your time in the mud (and we dipped our heads in for the full experience), you hop out and get wiped down (by another man), then walk down to the river, which is about 50 metres away. This was probably the best, and funniest part of the entire experience. You pay a local old lady at the river to wash you down, and it must be said she does a bloody good job. She managed to get 99% of the mud off of me, and I had mud EVERYWHERE. Yes, she saw my penis.

On my way to a wash.

The San Blas Islands

For the past 5 days, our lives on the mainland quickly became a distant memory. The trivialities of day to day living that you usually concern yourself with didn't matter anymore - the time, your plans for the day, or the WiFi password. We were out at sea on La Gitanita, a small sailboat which, along with the 15 passengers onboard, gently meandered it's way through the paradisal islands of San Blas before heading to Colombia.

After spending most of the morning on a Jeep, I, along with hordes of other backpackers arrived in Port Carti, where speedboats were on standby to take us to our respective sailing boats. After I'd made it on to La Gitanita (little sister of the catamaran El Gitano del Mar, which was making the same journey), it became clear quite quickly that we had a good group, which is always important when spending so much time together with strangers, especially when you're confined to such a small space. However, the old saying of "there's one dickhead in every group" was about to reaffirm it's cliché status as we found out there was one more passenger still to join us.

The first two days were spent in and around the San Blas islands. There's no other way to describe them than paradise. Coconut Tree filled islands dotted the deepest of blue waters around us, which we hopped to and from and used as a base to swim, snorkel, or just relax in the water with a beer. Kuna people (indigenous people of Panama and Colombia, who inhabit many of the San Blas islands) came by our boats during the day, offering freshly caught fish, lobster, and octopus which we cooked up for dinner, and in the evenings we anchored down and caught a dingy to one of many party islands.

It was on the second night that the last passenger to join us emerged as the group dickhead, spiralling into a drug and booze fuelled craze which resulted in him being evicted from the boat and sent back to Panama. As he abused and threatened the rest of the group, and finally proceeded to cry, it became obvious the drugs were the least of his problems in life.

Following that fiasco, our captain Jonathan made up for it by offering us an extra night anchored in the San Blas Islands, for us to relax and get a good nights rest before beginning the journey to Colombia. As there was no running water on board, we had to resort to pirate showers (jumping in the ocean), and using a manual pump toilet. Couple these conditions with a group of 14 people sleeping in an overheated cabin for 2 days and you can imagine how fresh we felt when we finally arrived in Cartagena.

Our living quarters, to be shared by 2 people and conveniently located next to the engine

The journey there was relatively smooth sailing (pun intended), we encountered no problems and had the sun on our back the entire time. It became difficult to tell whether I was tanning, already tanned, or just accustomed to seeing my skin burnt, but I did manage to avoid getting sea sick. Packs of dolphins drew us out from a slumber a number of times to put on a show, as did the odd cargo ship or oil tanker in the distant horizon, but for the most part we were the only ones out there, with nothing else in sight. It's amazing how much you slow down in situations like this, with nothing to bother you or interrupt your thoughts. It makes you realise how distracted you become when you're constantly surrounded by TVs, phones and radios. 

Having completely recharged, I won't lie, it was nice to see land again. The view of Cartagena was spectacular as we celebrated, pulling into the harbour and looking back on what was by far the most incredible, relaxing, and easiest border crossing I've ever completed. The best of all rewards was waiting for us on land - a nice shower, some air conditioning and a decent meal out together with the crew and passengers of La Gitanita.

Celebrating our arrival in Cartagena

Panama City, Panama

I perhaps wrongly presumed it would be a smooth travel day, flying from Managua to Miami to Panama, however it probably wasn't any better than my travels on the chicken buses in Nicaragua. Customs and Immigration checks in the USA during my layover were a mess, as they always seem to be at big ariports in that country. And on the flight from Miami to Panama we were caught in a split second pocket of turbulence where for a moment it felt like we were about to go down. But we made it, and following a debate with a taxi driver over the price of a cab to my hostel (frustratingly this is becoming a common occurrence where metered taxis don't seem to exist around Central America), I slumped into my hostel bed at around 11pm.

A couple of days here was enough time for a decent mix between some sightseeing, relaxing, and even managing to squeeze in a workout. On Friday I hopped on the Metro towards Casco Viejo, where on the way I stopped off at the Mercado de Mariscos to sample some fresh Ceviche. Delicious and cheap, yet since I've left Peru it has become clear nothing will ever top the Ceviche I enjoyed in Lima.

Casco Viejo (Old Town in English) is very different from the rest of Panama City. Whereas the surrounds of my hostel is filled with businesses, high rise buildings and apartments, Casco Viejo feels like a purpose built colonial area for tourists. It is beautiful however, and upon entering I immediately regretted my choice to stay at a hostel outside of the old town. I visited the Panama Canal museum, then hunted down a particular cafe recommended on a blog I found online, which serves one of the most popular variety's of coffee in the world - Geisha. Geisha coffee is one of the most premium and expensive coffees in the world and can be sold for up to $170 a pound. Panama is one of the top producers of this special blend of coffee, and just one cup will set you back around US$9.

On Saturday I visited the famous Panama Canal. In the entry line I got chatting to Iraisís, a girl from Venezuela who was also visiting Panama. It was a good thing I had someone to talk to as there wasn't a boat due to pass through the canal for another 3 hours after we arrived. Only there was one problem, she barely spoke a word of English, and my Spanish doesn't extend much further than the basics of conversation.

Ira and I at the Panama Canal

After staying to see a few small, and one incredibly huge boat pass through the canal, Ira and I headed back to Albrook Mall for a late lunch. It must've been a strange site to others in the food court - seeing two people having an extended conversation almost entirely via Google Translate, although the food court also contained a full size carousel you'd see at a fair ground, so maybe our conversation wasn't the strangest thing there.

The mammoth Dalian Highway passes through the Miraflores Locks at the Panama Canal

This morning I went for a run along Cinta Costera, a beautiful long stretch of waterfront park where many people run, bike, walk or just sit on a bench and people watch, and after almost passing out under the intense Panama heat and humidity, I cooled off in the hostel pool. I went back to the local mall to buy a few things in preparation for my boat ride through the San Blas islands tomorrow (taking me to Colombia), then hunted down another cafe serving the Geisha coffee. It's a good thing I'm leaving tomorrow as I can see this coffee quickly making a considerable dent in my daily budget. Yet as I sat back in my chair, feeling no remorse at the exorbitant amount of money I'd spent on only 2 coffees this day, I felt somewhat proud of my tenuous grasp of Spanish that had made my conversation with Iraisís all the more difficult - for it also allows me to sit in a cafe full of people, and yet be completely unaware of the conversations unfolding around me, in my own bubble of quietness amongst the numerous voices competing for my attention.

One of a few Geisha coffee's enjoyed whilst in Panama City

3 Days, 5 Countries - Managua, Nicaragua

Setting a new personal best for countries visited in under 3 days (my only personal best for that matter), I left Caye Caulker on the morning of Monday 30th November. By Wednesday afternoon, I'd made it to León, Nicaragua - along the way setting foot in Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras.

Although it looks good in my passport, I didn't really get the chance to explore too much at each stop (considering I've already spent a bit of time in Honduras and Guatemala, it was really only El Salvador I glossed over). I spent one night in Flores again, and one night in San Salvador, where we were told by a number of locals it was too dangerous to walk around the city after dark. In saying that, I still managed to try a pupusa, one of the local delicacies, albeit at a hygienically questionable food stall at the border crossing.

Pupusas at the border crossing

I arrived in León joined by Patrik, a guy from Sweden who made the same journey from Flores. León is a small University town, the first on the "gringo trail" if you're making your way down through Central America into Nicaragua. Patrik and I sampled some great street food here, but our main activity was to hike up the Cerro Negro volcano not only for the great view, but to sandboard down once we'd made it to the top. It was an easy hike, and an even easier descent, after which we were treated to some vegetable burritos (I ate 7 ... tried to get my money's worth!). It wasn't the most exhilarating of activities, but I was just happy to make it down unscathed after injuring my knee doing the same thing in Huacachina a few months back. 

Atop Cerro Negro Volcano in León, Nicaragua

The chicken bus journeys continued as Patrik and I arrived at our next stop, Granada. Granada is renowned for competing with León as the best city in Nicaragua, kind of like the rivalry between Melbourne and Sydney, but on a much, much smaller scale. After independence, they fought (not literally) for which city would become the capital of Nicaragua. Until in the end neither was chosen and Managua was declared the capital.

I enjoyed Granada more. It was like León, but bigger - more people, more cafes, restaurants and things to see. The central park area was bigger, full of horse drawn carts and somewhat surprisingly, casinos, which dotted many of the surrounding streets.

Granada presented another chance to hike an active volcano - I say hike, yet we were driven to about 20m before the summit - to see plumes of smoke billowing out of the crater of the Masaya Volcano. We took photos at sunset, then after a quick tour through a nearby bat cave, went back to the volcano to see the smoke now coloured a bright red due to lava located some 270m below the tip of the crater. On trying to get a peek at the lava (we couldn't actually see that low), many of us ended up in a coughing fit due to the toxic fumes of the smoke.

The penultimate stop in Nicaragua was the city I'd end up spending the most time in - San Juan del Sur, a beautiful fishing village turned tourist surf town. Although there was supposedly world class surfing beaches in the near surrounds, I opted to stay put, also evading the infamous Sunday Funday weekly drinking binge in order to chill out for a few days. It was the first time in months since I'd been back on my own as a solo traveller again, and after cramming in plenty of diving, hiking, partying and border crossings of late, it was rejuvenating to just do nothing, going back and forth between the hostel and the beach, a cafe or a smoothie bar, often accompanied by my journal, a book or a movie.

San Juan del Sur beach, a mere 100m from my hostel bed

I did on one occasion step out of the 5 kilometre radius I'd lazily imposed on myself, on a hostel organised tour to La Flor Natural Reserve, where the Olive Ridley turtles come to the beach en masse, during so called arribadas in which thousands of turtles arrive at the same time to lay their eggs. This way, the hatchlings will swarm the beach in huge numbers and in doing so they increase their chance of survival.

Although there were far from thousands of turtles at the beach that night, it was incredible to observe these creatures in their natural habitat during such an important phase of their species' survival. While we couldn't use cameras with a flash, I did manage to take a video on my iPhone.

After observing this process, we let off a few recently hatched turtles that were kept in artificial nests to improve their chances of survival. We stood in a line along the beach and, guiding them in the right direction, watched them swim off into the ocean to begin their life in the wild.

The best photo I could come up with using an iPhone and a red light

Not unlike the sea turtles during the arribadas, today I jostled shoulder to shoulder with countless other Nicaraguans on the at times frustratingly slow local buses, back to the sands of Managua. Tomorrow I'll take a more comfortable and unarguably less dangerous form of transport, via a flight to Panama City.

Flores, Guatemala and Caye Caulker, Belize

It's proving tricky to even remember which country I'm in lately, so I'll bundle a few of the last places I've stopped in to one blog update to make it easier to read and follow.

From Útila, Jorden, Victoria and I took a ferry and a couple of buses, making our way to San Pedro Sula, Hondruas. We were aware that San Pedro Sula is regarded as one of the most violent places in the world, having recorded 187 homicides per 100,000 residents in 2013, yet, we still felt (relatively) safe as we walked around the city during the night to find a cheap hostel and dinner.

Having survived San Pedro Sula (one night was enough), we made our way by bus back in to Guatemala and stopped at Flores for a couple of nights, where we could unpack our bags and even spend a day checking out the Mayan ruins of Tikal. Whilst mainly a place to base your visit to Tikal from, Flores was a nice little town where you could also enjoy a nice meal and enjoy a beautiful sunset over the lake.

Flores, Guatemala

Then, it was another border crossing, into another new country - Belize. Having both passed our Advanced Open Water courses in Útila, mine and Jorden's main reason for entering Belize was to visit Caye Caulker and tick off one of the scuba diving world's most talked about (many say it's overhyped) dives - The Blue Hole.

The Blue Hole (image stolen shamelessly from Google)

The Blue Hole is a large sinkhole off the coast of Belize. Circular in shape, it is over 300m wide and 124m deep, with many fish, sharks, corals, and stalactite formations. Even having our Advanced license, we were still technically only certified to dive a maximum depth of 30m. However, as is common with many dive shops around Central America, they'll take you further than you're supposed to go. We were taken down to a maximum depth of 46m, where for many divers, narcosis is known to set in (narcosis is an alteration in consciousness that occurs while diving at depth. It is caused by the anaesthetic effect of certain gases at high pressure).

The stalactite formations are found at around 42m, which means the total time you can actually spend at that depth is quite small - between 5 - 10 minutes. Yet it was incredible. It was probably the narcosis, but it felt like a dream. We stayed close to the stalactites, giving us a natural reference of where we were (when you look away from the stalactites you can't see anything - just blue ... and sharks), so you get this sense of impending doom is just around the corner, and it's easy to understand why there have been many deaths at The Blue Hole due to diver incompetence. I surfaced with more sinus problems (and blood), but with another bucket list experience ticket off the list, I'm now glad to take a break from diving for a while to let it recover.

Jorden, Victoria and I went out for dinner for our final night together and splurged on a huge, delicious, yet way overpriced (as is the norm for Caye Caulker) pizza, then parted ways - Jorden and V heading back up to Mexico, whilst I head back down through Central America and into El Salvador.

La Ceiba and Útila, Honduras

A 17 hour bus ride brought us, surprisingly lively, into Honduras, a minor milestone in reaching my 20th country visited. Fortunately, we lucked out in picking a nice hostel that was virtually empty, allowing us to get a decent night's rest and cook up a big breakfast the next morning. There wasn't a great deal to see in La Ceiba, so after a big feed we took the cheaper (and much rougher) afternoon ferry over to Útila.

Arriving in Honduras with Jorden and Victoria (who took the picture!)

Upon arriving at the ferry docks in Útila, we were met by hordes of locals trying to lure us into their dive shop to secure our busines. Fortunately, we had already been in contact with Rebecca from BICD (Bay Islands Academy of Diving), who helped us through the crowd, took us on a tour of their complex, and showed us to our own private room.

Our home for a week in Útila

Before beginning our dive courses, we had a day to relax and walk around the island, and It only took us an hour or so to realise Útila is an odd place. Most of the locals speak English, yet at first you don't quite realise it. It sounds like a mixture of Irish, Jamaican and Central American accents that you never really get used to, but it's fun to listen to. Then you meet the odd people who don't speak English at all. There doesn't seem to be any rules, and shops open and close at almost any time other than the hours they advertise. But aside from this, everyone we came across was extremely friendly and welcoming.

Local legend says that the island of Utila is the place of the fabled Robinson Crusoe, who shipwrecked on a tropical island, met a man he called Friday, and lived for 24 years marooned and seeking rescue

I began my AOW (Advanced Open Water) course on Wednesday, the first day consisting of 3 dives - a Deep Dive (30m), a Peak Performance Buoyancy dive, and a Night Dive. With no exam to do this time around, it was more about getting in the water and perfecting the skills I learned on my Open Water course in Perth earlier this year. On top of that, there were a few cool things thrown in - such as drinking a can of soda at 30m below the surface, and having a running race on the ocean floor. Unfortunately I didn't come away completely unscathed, as some sinus problems resulted in me blowing a handful of blood out of my nose each time. But I still had a bloody good time (pun intended).

After a much needed day off, I was back in the water for my Navigation and Drift dives with my instructor Donna. The sinus problems hadn't subsided but I was able to finish the dives and as such complete my AOW course, and see a few cool things along the way:

Útila is renowned worldwide as an inexpensive place to earn your dive certifications, yet the service I received from Donna, Rebecca and everyone at BICD was worth far more than what we paid. The price aside, we were extremely well looked after for the duration of our stay, the staff were very professional and friendly, and on top of this we were able to enjoy the entire experience from the comfort of our own fully furnished apartment complete with kitchen, private bathroom and balcony looking out the 3rd floor.

People told me I'd get stuck here, and if it wasn't for the overwhelming desire to explore more of Central and South America before I head home, I'd have definitely stayed longer.

Antigua, Guatemala

After the partying of San Pedro, and a full day spent on chicken buses, Antigua provided a comfortable refuge where we could rest and recharge. 45 minutes outside of the capital Guatemala City, Antigua is a small colonial town littered with cafes and restaurants catering to all types of cuisine. It’s the kind of place you could always stay for one more day.

We used most of our time here for just that - coffee drinking, bagel eating, chocolate sampling, playing cards and also cooking a few meals of our own as we still had our gang from San Pedro together.

On our first night at the hostel, unaware how close we actually were to it, we spotted Volcán de Fuego off in the distance, shooting off some steam and lava. As we stopped what we were doing to enjoy the moment, we decided at that point that climbing up Volcán Acatenango for a better view was our must do activity in Antigua. So, on Thursday we did the rounds of the travel agencies, sussing out the competition and trying to play them off against each other to get the best price. We settled on one and booked it in for the following day.

Come 10:30am on Friday morning, we were still waiting for the tour bus to arrive. When they finally arrived soon after, we told them we wouldn’t be going on the tour as it was too late to begin the trek and we’d miss sunset. We walked over to the tour office and soon found ourselves in the middle of an argument and an unwanted choice over not getting any refund, or taking the tour on Saturday without food included. Still unsatisfied, it wasn’t until we mentioned we’d go to the police until they finally cooperated, and included us on the tour for the next day with all meals included.

Our persistence paid off, as when we woke Saturday morning the weather was clear and we left on time. The hike involved 6 hours of mainly uphill walking through slippery tracks, before we reached our camp and set up our tents and campfire.

Probably the best moments of the whole experience were had during and after sunset, as Victoria, Jorden and I sat out on the grass, witnessing the most surreal (and at times blinding) lightning storm unfold next to Volcán de Fuego, which was shooting off bursts of smoke and lava every so often. The bucket list moment was well and truly cemented when, whilst fiddling around with different exposure settings on my camera, I managed to get this shot:

After much conversation over life, travel and how lucky we were to be sharing, or even just experiencing these moments, we headed back to the campfire where we shared some cheap liquor with our guides and roasted a few marshmallows on the fire.

With 4 of us jammed into a relatively small tent, needless to say there was little sleep had, and any that we managed to get left us with aching bodies from the thin mattresses and cheap sleeping bags.

We were soon up at 3:45am to attempt to climb to the top of Volcán Acatenango, a tempting opportunity if not for the thick cloud and considerable rain that we found ourselves in. As much as I wanted to stay in the tent, I realised it was my only shot at this, so joined the others who were keen enough to brave the conditions and begun the 90 minute uphill climb. Unfortunately for us our efforts weren't rewarded, and as others predicted, the climb was cancelled due to the poor conditions and we ended up turning back.

After a breakfast of an apple and a banana (I ate the rest of my meals the day before after the trek), we descended for 3 hours to where we started the previous day, and our bus took us back to Antigua.

While exhausting, it was an incredible experience that Antigua would have otherwise felt incomplete without enduring. With aching muscles all over, Victoria, Jorden and I then began our 17 hour bus ride across the border into Honduras, a new country to be added to all of our lists.

Lago de Atitlán, Guatemala

For the first time since arriving in Ecuador a couple of months ago, I was able to add a new country to my list of places visited - Guatemala. It took just under 12 hours and 3 different buses from San Cristóbal, but I finally made it to Panajachel, which is located on the northeast shore of the beautiful Lago de Atitlán (Lake Atitlán).

Lake Atitlán is the deepest lake in Central America (with a maximum depth of about 340m) and while considered one of the most beautiful lakes in the world, I didn't find it quite as serene as Lake Titicaca, which I visited from both the Peruvian and Bolivian sides.

Jorden, his girlfriend Victoria and a few other friends were already here, but across the lake in a little town called San Pedro la Laguna. It was late at night so I decided to spend the night in Panajachel with Sara, a girl from Tokyo who I met on the bus earlier.

The next morning started with a superb, the best I've had in months, coffee from the Korean run Cafe Loco, near our hotel. Then I hopped on the ferry to another nearby lake town - San Marcos la Laguna.

Renowned for being a laid back hippie town, commonly used for yoga or meditation retreats, I initially intended to spend a night here before meeting up with Jorden and the gang in San Pedro the following day. But, remembering my time in Vilcabamba, I decided it would be much more fun partying with my mates and so hopped on another lancha (powered boat) to San Pedro.

As is common whenever Jorden and I are together, the partying was inevitable. It started off innocently enough with a few games of Yaniv at the hostel - then we ventured out into the town, bar hopping and cashing in on any promotions for free shots that we could find. We parked down at Buddha Bar for a while, where things escalated before finally stumbling into bed in the early hours of the morning.

For our final morning in San Pedro and Lake Atitlán, we rose at 3AM and trekked up The Indian's Nose, a mountain perched atop the cities of San Juan and San Marcos - giving an incredible view of sunrise over the lake.

Sunrise from the Indian's Nose

After a nap and some lunch, we departed San Pedro, taking the "chicken bus" to Antigua. These buses are old recycled (definitely not refurbished) school buses from the USA. They cram as many people as they can on to these things, and, braving cracked windscreens, bald tyres, wet roads and a sleepy driver, it's probably surprising we made it safely to Antigua.

San Cristóbal de las Casas, Mexico

My final stop in Mexico brought me to the quaint little town of San Cristóbal de las Casas, in the state of Chiapas.

I'm only spending 1 night here, so I took the time to walk around the markets, visit the Mayan Medicine Museum, and hunt down a decent coffee.

It's good to have some quiet time to reflect on what has been an almost nonstop past 4 weeks. I was lucky enough to spend them with 2 of my best friends from home and I couldn't have asked for a better time. Tomorrow I'll take the bus across the border into Guatemala, where the journey continues further down through Central America.

Oaxaca, Mexico

A brief respite from the intensity of Cancún and Playa del Carmen was short lived as I had only a couple of nights in Oaxaca before the festivities of Día de Muertos began. Not only that, I was also due to meet up with Jorden, one of my best friends from home who I haven't seen since the beginning of the year.

Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead in English) is a holiday celebrated throughout Mexico, in particular the Central and South regions, and acknowledged around the world in other cultures. The holiday focuses on gatherings of family and friends to pray for and remember loved ones who have died, and help support their spiritual journey. Oaxaca is known as a town rich in culture, food and tradition, and as such also considered the best place to celebrate Día de Muertos in Mexico.

Arriving by bus on Wednesday evening, I was greeted by a friend from Couchsurfing who walked me back to my hostel. It was invaluable having someone as friendly and helpful as Rubí who was able to provide advice on what to do, where to go, and where to party over the next few days.

True to it's reputation, Oaxaca is littered with trendy artisanal shops, local designer boutiques, cafes and restaurants which make it a beautiful city to casually stroll around. This was done in abundance with the inevitable partying for Día de Muertos, where only 1 in 5 nights was spent without the consumption of a considerable amount of alcohol. 

Much of the alcohol enjoyed in Oaxaca is Mezcal, a distilled beverage made from the maguey plant. It tastes similar to Tequila, but a little more smooth and with a distinct smokey flavour, depending on how long it's been aged. This often went down nicely with a Tlayuda (a handmade dish consisting of a large, thin, crunchy tortilla covered with a spread of refried beans, meat, lettuce or cabbage, avocado, stringy cheese and salsa), many of which were enjoyed at the Benito Juárez market.

From beginning to end, my time in Oaxaca was full of laughs, partying, eating, drinking - everything that's good for the soul. It was great to spend this memorable weekend with my best mate without a care in the world, and we were treated to some more great company in friends that we made at the hostel, and other locals that we met here in Oaxaca. It's a place you can't really find a good reason to leave, and the experiences I've had here I'll never have a good reason to forget.