From underdog to wonder dog

it's a boring photo but i don't have a waterproof camera

D-Day as in diving day was here. And I was going to conquer this diving thing even if kil- whoops, maybe not the best cliché to use. Let’s just say I was determined. Although when I saw the grey skies that morning, a small part of my brain did hope maybe it would stormy and I wouldn’t be able to go out. I may have been determined but I was still scared.

Adrian walked with me to UDC and hung around as I met Anna and we started getting ready for my lesson, until I finally told him it was okay to leave me. The first thing Anna did was ask me to explain what had happened in my own words and what I thought I needed to do. I told her and then she explained step by step how she was going to help me get the mask monkey off my back. And she knew how because she’d had to overcome her own anxiety. Wow, I didn’t realize how common it was and how it was possible to overcome it. I wasn’t a freak after all. (Okay maybe I am a freak but not when it comes to scuba diving at least.)

We got my equipment together and when she heard how much weight I’d been told to use. She immediately cut it down by 30%. “There’s no way you need that much.” Well that will make it much easier to get back in the boat.

Then it was in the water. But unlike Cross Creek, UDC had an area just off shore to practice all the confined dive skills – much less intimidated than trying to do stuff in open water. We started off in the shallows and Anna began just by watching me as I did some of the simpler tasks. She immediately picked up on a couple of things that I could correct. I was still breathing too rapidly and shallow and I didn’t like opening my eyes in salt. We worked on both these little things and then it was time to just take the mask off and put it back on. I was so relaxed and confident that despite getting water up my nose again, I didn’t panic. Victory! I was almost there. No I just needed to add the swim bit to it.

For that we went out a bit deeper. We dove around for a bit and Anna complimented me on my buoyancy and control.

“It’s the not the diving I have a problem with – it’s these silly skills.” I told her.

“Well then, let’s get them over with” she replied.

Rather than anxiety I felt the nervous energy of excitement. I took my time mentally psyching myself up. I did the whole “visualization” thing too. I’m not much of a believer in stuff like that but I thought what could it hurt. Then I slipped the mask off and swam. When Anna tapped me on the shoulder, I began to put my mask on. Not easy with long hair. (diving tip: you have long hair, buy yourself a strap guard thing and avoid the pain and discomfort of getting your mask caught in your hair). I got some water in my nose but just a bit. I concentrated on getting the mask on and clear of water. I knew I could cough as soon as I was done that. I opened my eyes slowly. There was still some water in my mask. I cleared it again and Anna gave me a thumbs up. Ecstatic, I high fived her and we did a little booty shake happy dance (much more graceful now that was wearing a lighter weight belt).

“Thank you so much Anna. I couldn’t have done that without you.” I told her when we were back on the surface.
“Nope you did it. You totally rocked it. Congratulations.” She said high fiving me once again.

During our lunch break, I ran back to tell Adrian I’d succeeded. He was super happy for me. And although my stomach was doing congratulatory summersaults I had something quickly to eat before heading back to UDC. I still had another open water dive to do with another mask off skill. But with my albatross gone, I knew I was free and clear.

“We’re going to one of my favourite site’s here in Utila. Black Hills. You are like so totally going to love it.” Anna told me. The totally was the only give away that she was a surfer first and diver second. She had given up marine biology to dive so she could support her surfing addiction and Utila was close enough to Costa Rica’s surf sites. She must be a phenomenal surfer because she’s a pretty awesome diving instructor. Black Hill is an amazing mountain of coral way off shore. Getting to it involved a tricky entry thanks to the strong current but once under water the current disappeared. I did some compass skills and my final mask off exercise and I then I was done. The rest of the time we just enjoyed the scenery. And Anna was right: I like so totally loved it, dude.

After the dive, the boat took us on a search around the island for whale sharks. Today was not our day as the only thing we spotted was a tree trunk that looked creepily like a lone diver floating in the water until we got up close. But we did get a complete tour of Utila and the cays, including a long stretch of large beach homes on the west end of the island, most of which were for sale. It was tempting but somehow I think they were out of our price range.

Anna and I chatted more about traveling. She and Rob are also planning a trip to Africa. In September they’re going to teach diving in Mozambique where there’s also some grat surfing. We’ll have to hook up. I also chatted to a guy from Mexico who was only in Utila for 3 days so he was diving four times a day. He was very nice and friendly although he did try to convince me that I should try the grasshoppers next time I’m in town – but just the small ones because the big ones taste bad. Good thing I’m not heading back to Mexico City any time soon.

After an hour of circumnavigating the island we pulled up at UDC, where a boat from Cross Creek was also docked (the two schools help each other out with equipment and stuff). On the boat were Itamar as well as Avishai and Carmel. It was like running into your new ex while out with your new partner (who you may or may not have been seeing while you were dating the ex, not that I know, I’m just basing that on tv shows and movies). Awkward, until I decided not to let it be awkward. I told them that I had just passed. And Avi and Carmel let out a huge cheer and clapped. When I looked over at Ita, he was cheering too.

Adrian was waiting for me at the dive bar (erm the bar at the dive school) where he was watching the Olympia and Real Espana rematch with the Honduran staff members. The locals were cheering for the underdogs, Olympia from San Pedro who were playing their arch rivals the arrogant Real Espana. Olympia won. Today all us underdogs ended up on top.
May 24 S U C C E S S that’s the way you spell success.
D-Day as in diving day was here. And I was going to conquer this diving thing even if kil- okay maybe not the best cliché to use. Let’s just say I was determined. Although when I saw the grey skies that morning, a small part of my brain did hope maybe it would stormy and I wouldn’t be able to go out. I may have been determined but I was still scared.

Adrian walked with me to UDC and hung around as I met Anna and we started getting ready for my lesson, until I finally told him it was okay to leave me. The first thing Anna did was ask me to explain what had happened in my own words and what I thought I needed to do. I told her and then she explained step by step how she was going to help me get the mask monkey off my back. And she knew how because she’d had to overcome her own anxiety. Wow, I didn’t realize how common it was and how it was possible to overcome it. I wasn’t a freak after all. (Okay maybe I am a freak but not when it comes to scuba diving at least.)

We got my equipment together and when she heard how much weight I’d been told to use. She immediately cut it down by 30%. “There’s no way you need that much.” Well that will make it much easier to get back in the boat.

Then it was in the water. But unlike Cross Creek, UDC had an area just off shore to practice all the confined dive skills – much less intimidated than trying to do stuff in open water. We started off in the shallows and Anna began just by watching me as I did some of the simpler tasks. She immediately picked up on a couple of things that I could correct. I was still breathing too rapidly and shallow and I didn’t like opening my eyes in salt. We worked on both these little things and then it was time to just take the mask off and put it back on. I was so relaxed and confident that despite getting water up my nose again, I didn’t panic. Victory! I was almost there. No I just needed to add the swim bit to it.

For that we went out a bit deeper. We dove around for a bit and Anna complimented me on my buoyancy and control.

“It’s the not the diving I have a problem with – it’s these silly skills.” I told her.

“Well then, let’s get them over with” she replied.

Rather than anxiety I felt the nervous energy of excitement. I took my time mentally psyching myself up. I did the whole “visualization” thing too. I’m not much of a believer in stuff like that but I thought what could it hurt. Then I slipped the mask off and swam. When Anna tapped me on the shoulder, I began to put my mask on. Not easy with long hair. (diving tip: you have long hair, buy yourself a strap guard thing and avoid the pain and discomfort of getting your mask caught in your hair). I got some water in my nose but just a bit. I concentrated on getting the mask on and clear of water. I knew I could cough as soon as I was done that. I opened my eyes slowly. There was still some water in my mask. I cleared it again and Anna gave me a thumbs up. Ecstatic, I high fived her and we did a little booty shake happy dance (much more graceful now that was wearing a lighter weight belt).

“Thank you so much Anna. I couldn’t have done that without you.” I told her when we were back on the surface.
“Nope you did it. You totally rocked it. Congratulations.” She said high fiving me once again.

During our lunch break, I ran back to tell Adrian I’d succeeded. He was super happy for me. And although my stomach was doing congratulatory summersaults I had something quickly to eat before heading back to UDC. I still had another open water dive to do with another mask off skill. But with my albatross gone, I knew I was free and clear.

“We’re going to one of my favourite site’s here in Utila. Black Hills. You are like so totally going to love it.” Anna told me. The totally was the only give away that she was a surfer first and diver second. She had given up marine biology to dive so she could support her surfing addiction and Utila was close enough to Costa Rica’s surf sites. She must be a phenomenal surfer because she’s a pretty awesome diving instructor. Black Hill is an amazing mountain of coral way off shore. Getting to it involved a tricky entry thanks to the strong current but once under water the current disappeared. I did some compass skills and my final mask off exercise and I then I was done. The rest of the time we just enjoyed the scenery. And Anna was right: I like so totally loved it, dude.

After the dive, the boat took us on a search around the island for whale sharks. Today was not our day as the only thing we spotted was a tree trunk that looked creepily like a lone diver floating in the water until we got up close. But we did get a complete tour of Utila and the cays, including a long stretch of large beach homes on the west end of the island, most of which were for sale. It was tempting but somehow I think they were out of our price range.

Anna and I chatted more about traveling. She and Rob are also planning a trip to Africa. In September they’re going to teach diving in Mozambique where there’s also some grat surfing. We’ll have to hook up. I also chatted to a guy from Mexico who was only in Utila for 3 days so he was diving four times a day. He was very nice and friendly although he did try to convince me that I should try the grasshoppers next time I’m in town – but just the small ones because the big ones taste bad. Good thing I’m not heading back to Mexico City any time soon.

After an hour of circumnavigating the island we pulled up at UDC, where a boat from Cross Creek was also docked (the two schools help each other out with equipment and stuff). On the boat were Itamar as well as Avishai and Carmel. It was like running into your new ex while out with your new partner (who you may or may not have been seeing while you were dating the ex, not that I know, I’m just basing that on tv shows and movies). Awkward, until I decided not to let it be awkward. I told them that I had just passed. And Avi and Carmel let out a huge cheer and clapped. When I looked over at Ita, he was cheering too.

Adrian was waiting for me at the dive bar (erm the bar at the dive school) where he was watching the Olympia and Real Espana rematch with the Honduran staff members. The locals were cheering for the underdogs, Olympia from San Pedro who were playing their arch rivals the arrogant Real Espana. Olympia won. Today all us underdogs ended up on top.

Diving support group.

On Utila you either dived or you dived. All conversations revolved around what spots you’d been too or how many dives or what course were you doing – especially since we were staying at a dive school. That was fine when we were part of that clique but now that I wasn’t, I wanted to get as far away from it as possible. But I still wanted to overcome my newfound fear.

Feeling motivated and looking for a clean slate, I took Cindi and Donna’s advice to not give up and began looking at dive schools in other parts of the Caribbean – Panama, Nicaragua and even Colombia. They all looked like possibilities. But I also realized that I was here in the student diving mecca with over 20 other schools to choose from. Why did I need to wait? The sooner I conquered this fear the better.

So after breakfast, I headed down to the Utila Dive Centre with Adrian there for moral support. I met Rob, a kinda loud crazy English guy with an equally loud and crazy laugh. I told him that I’d had a panic attack during my mask off skill but had completed all my other skills and was determined to finish off the course. He was immediately up for the challenge and said that he’d make sure I got my certification. Yay! Enthusiasm just what I needed since I wasn’t sure just how determined my heart actually was.

When I asked him about a new place to stay (fresh school, fresh lodging and a fresh attitude), he walked us over to Rubi’s. A small hotel on the sea far away from the bugs of Cross Creek. The walk gave us a chance to get to chat and get to know each other which put me at ease. And Rubi’s was just as great. A bright spacious room, our own bathroom and a great view (photo above). We checked in and rushed back to Cross Creek to check out and get all our stuff. Immediately I felt like a new person.

Back at Rubi’s Rob stopped by to let me know that he’d talked to the head guy at the school and they had decided to give me Anna as an instructor.

“Don’t worry. She’s my girlfriend and she’s a much better instructor than me. And she’s a mask expert. She’s the best.”

He’d recommended a great little place to stay (in fact his sister was staying in the next room) so I trusted his glowing review of Anna even though he may have been a bit biased. And he told me that Anna and I were going to start an hour earlier so I could spend some extra time in the shallow water just off their dock. Cool. I felt so much better that I actually got jealous when Adrian went out that afternoon to do his two free fun dives. If only I had transferred to UDC earlier. I could have been out there with him.

Correction, I hate my diving instructor.

Today was our last day of and my last chance to get my certification. I woke up and the anxiety was still there. The one looming skill I had to complete still scared the bejesus out of me. And unfortunately my biggest ally Avishai, was not coming out with us – he was incredibly hungover. But good thing Carmel was still coming out. I needed the moral support.

Back out on the water. I asked to start off with just getting used to putting my face in the water again. Ita agreed but after 5 minutes told me it was time to go down. Once again the anxiety and panic hit – the dread of having to do the skill was building. Ita made Adrian go first. But as I was sitting on the bottom, I started getting the urge to go back up. But I managed to calm myself down. Plus I knew I could do the last remaining skills and thought maybe doing them would build up my confidence. But when it came time to do the controlled emergency ascent (that’s where you pretend to run out of air and slowly go without air and without inflating your bcd), I had a tiny bit of trouble at the top (couldn’t remember how to manually inflate my bcd at first) which did nothing for building the confidence. It was just a little thing but it was enough.

It didn’t matter that one part of my brain was telling me I was overreacting and being stupid. The other part of my brain telling me to get out of the water was louder and more aggressive. As we continued on the fun part of the dive, I developed tunnel vision and didn’t register any fish or coral. All I could think about was the next dive and that stupid mask off swim. I didn’t trust my instructor and that’s what I needed most at the moment. So I decided that was it.

On the surface, I told Adrian I was done and wouldn’t be going back down. He sweetly said that if I wasn’t going to do it, he didn’t want to finish either. But I told him not to be stupid. We’d spent the money and he was thisclose to getting certified so he should get down there and finish up (photo above). When I told Ita he just sort of shrugged and suggested I do some snorkeling while they were down. Now I don’t think he meant to be a jackass. I just think he couldn’t be bothered or maybe he just wasn’t good with stress. Whatever the reason it made me feel like the freak.

When Adrian came back up, he had completed all his skills and was now a certified diver. And back on land we went into the office to finish his paperwork. Kim was there and when she heard I hadn’t finished, she offered to take me down. But I declined. The whole school now felt tainted and just wanted to get away from it.

I hopped online and proclaimed my diving failure on facebook. Immediately, I heard from lots of people about their own diving panic attacks, including from divemaster Cindi, and fellow rtw’er Donna. Both helped to talk me off the ledge. And (like many of you folks) told me that I should probably get a new instructor. That maybe true but at that moment I just wanted to get far away from diving.

(I just wanted to give another special shout out and thank you to Cindi and Donna. You two were awesome. We’ve never met but your encouragement and kind words were just what I needed at that time. You’re true friends.)

I hate diving.

“You will have great diving experiences. But you will also have bad ones,” the voice on one of the PADI videos had said. After yesterday’s experience I didn’t understand how that was possible. But I was about to find out.

We started the day with Itamar testing us on the final chapters. And when that was done, we were given our final test to complete when we got back from our dive. After our experience with Nico, Adrian and I were both struck by the difference in teaching style. Ita was cold and any attempt at encouragement actually came across as patronizing. But we were almost done so we tried to shake it off when we broke for lunch.

When it came time to get our gear together, I remembered more than I thought I would and didn’t feel as lost on the boat. We jumped into the water and began our descent with Carmel and Avishair helping Itamar off once again. But that’s where the similarities to the previous day ended.

Immediately we were instructed to perform our next task – swimming with the mask off. Ita showed us once and then told us to copy him. This time I had to go first. I got the mask off and swam, concentrating on trying to keep the bubbles from going up my nose. Ita tapped me on the shoulder to let me know I could stop and put my mask back on. No problem. Until I moved my head in the wrong direction. Suddenly I got a nose full of water that started going down my throat. Panic began to set in. I could still breathe so I spend a few minutes trying to concentrate on how to get the water out. With my mask on I would have just coughed but my mask was stuck in my hair and I couldn’t get it on. I tried to breathe out through my nose. But that seemed to make it worse. The water was now burning my nose and throat and I was definitely panicing. My throat seemed to be closing and I didn’t know what to do. I could feel my heart beating super fast and my breathing getting shallower. All I knew was that we were only in 5 metres of water and I could definitely make it to the surface safely to get the water out.

I kept motioned that something was wrong and that I wanted to go up. But when I started to move to go up Ita pushed me back down. And that’s when I essentially lost it. I shook him off and swam slowly to the top. On the surface I began coughing to get the water out. Then the stress and fear all came to head and I burst out into tears. Avishai had surfaced with me and tried to calm me down.

“What happened? You were almost done,” he asked. “Let’s go back down and finish.”

I tried to explain that I was too spooked by the incident to go back down. Just looking at the water gave me a queasy feeling I hadn’t felt since I was four and my mean cousins threw me into the swimming pool. Luckily Avishai understood and was happy to chill with me until I felt ready to go back down. I was just starting to feel more relaxed when Ita surfaced.

“What’s the problem? Why aren’t you back down,” he barked.

Notice he didn’t ask what had happened to me. I told him I didn’t feel confident enough to go back down. Without saying anything or offering any advise, he went back down. I didn’t know how I was going to prevent the same thing from happening again. And at that point I wasn’t even able to figure out how to express what the problem was – not that he asked.

Thank god for Avishai, probably 22 years old but far more mature than Ita. He helped me get back under water, step by step. We started by putting my face in the water, then I breathed through the regulator, next we swam on the surface and, when I felt ready, we went back down.

At the bottom, Adrian was in the midst of his belt test (taking the weight belt off and putting it back on) and he was struggling. As we watched him do everything but what he was supposed to do to get it back on, I wondered why Ita didn’t stop him, show him how to do it the right way and have him repeat it. Same thing when it came time to take off his bcd (the inflatable vest that also holds the tank). Adrian struggled and struggled and struggled, undoing every strap before sort of getting it back on. It took him so long, that I had plenty of time to refocus and calm down and figure out how to do the tasks. So when it was my turn I did those two skills perfectly. But then Itamar asked me to do the swim with mask off test again. And I knew I couldn’t. In fact the thought of it got me hyperventilating and I shook my head no.

Up on the surface Itamar, told me that without it I wouldn’t get my certification. At that point I didn’t care. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go out for the next dive. The thought of being asked to do that skill again terrified me, if only because I didn’t know how to stop anything bad from happening. I had hoped that Ita would talk me through it and help me correct what I had done wrong. But on the boat he sat on the bow far away from Adrian and I. Avishai and Carmel could see that I was upset and despite being only students did their best.

“What do you think you need to feel comfortable again?” Avishai asked. I wasn’t sure but suggested that maybe I had to start with the basic skills again and work my way up to it. They said they’d talk to Ita for me and told me not to worry. But first we were going to do free diving – that’s diving with just a mask, snorkel and fins. Even that was terrifying – just the thought of putting my face in the water made me weak. Knowing that we would be close to the surface helped me out. Ita showed off his skin diving skills, and didn’t even watch as we attempted our skin dives.

Then it was time to go back down. And this time we were going to go 14m deep (well, deep for a newbie like me). That was a lot different than 5m and too dangerous to come up for air like the last time if anything went wrong. I asked if it was possible to go back to a shallow area and try the skills there. Ita seemed irritated by the request and told me that the depth didn’t matter, meaning, no. And that’s when the panic started again. I managed to control it and enjoy the dive and master the last skills. I was good at all the swimming and buoyancy stuff. Actually I was better than good I was excellent. I still loved the diving part of diving. But then it was time to do the mask off swim and I was paralyzed. I couldn’t even go down 1 meter to get to the ocean floor. I felt the anxiety becoming suffocating, as suffocating as the 14m of water over my head. The memories of the throat full of saltwater came back fresh. I tried to calm down but I could feel the tears in my mask and my breathing going too fast and shallow. Then I started having problems equalizing my eardrums from the tears and stuffed up nose, which forced me up to the surface.

Now I was having a full panic attack. I tried to hold it in on the boat but I knew I was going to lose it. By the time we got back to the dock I was shaking and had tears running down my face as I put my equipment away. Carmel and Avishai tried to make me feel better but Ita didn’t come over to talk to me. Instead he told Adrian and I to meet him at the bar across the street at 7pm for a drink and a chat. I assumed this was the neutral meeting place where he’d tell me that I was through.

I told Adrian my fears and after showering and changing we headed over to Babalu for 7pm. Ita didn’t show up until 7:30 and then didn’t even have drink we us. I wasn’t being dumped but I wish I had. Instead he spent an hour critiquing our dives. He never did ask me what had happened during the mask off swim– so I never got a solution to overcome my panic. I got the impression that he didn’t care. For him it was either do it or fail. And since I felt doing it would mean death, my brain was telling me no.

I don’t know how. But I’d gone from loving diving to being scared of the water in just one day.

I love diving.

Today was the day we put all our book learning to the test. But of course there was some more learning to do. We watched the final two videos. Well we started to but then the power went off. So we read the accompanying chapters - they were full of scary things like nitrous poisoning, contaminated air, the bends and other diving disasters. And when the power came back on the videos didn’t do much to make me feel much more comfortable. It’s not really what you want to see before you go underwater for the first time. But that was just me – the videos got Adrian all excited about continuing on to do the advanced diving course. I told Itamar I was really nervous and he once again assured me it would be all clear and easy once we were in the water.

We broke briefly for lunch and then it was time for the equipment briefing. Ita was now accompanied by two assistants Carmel and Avishai, who were doing their divemaster course. The equipment was very intimidating and I was sure I was going to forget something very important – like, um, I don’t know, how about air? In fact it felt rather rushed and I ended up with fins that were too big for me. I asked for another pair but was told they’d be fine. I was given a pair of fins that were too big but was told they were fine. The next time we have to assemble our equipment I know I’ll have to ask for a slower refresher.

Ita had disappeared while we were waiting to get on the dive boat. Nico came over and introduced himself to us – he’s the head instructor and the guy who enthusiastically answered all my email questions. I thought he was being super polite until he explained that he ws stepping in for Ita. Apparently, while we were getting all our equipment together someone broke into his place. She was caught with $1500, his ipod and computer. But now Ita had to go to the police to press charges. Poor him, but glad that the thief was caught.

The chaos continued on the dive boat. There were 20+ other people and all their gear (photo above). I didn’t know where to go or what I was doing. And although there was a routine and protocol I wasn’t clear what that was. Before I could figure it out, we arrived at the dive site. And suddenly, it was time to jump in the water. Just like that? I wasn’t convinced I would float with the very heavy gear on so I made Adrian go in first. Not out of self-preservation (okay maybe a little bit) but because he had no fear or at least no visible fear. He made it so now it was my turn. I hesitated and hemmed and hawed at the platform edge as long as possible, making sure my floatation device was completely filled then jumped in. Although my weights were lopsided and my fins were much too big, I was floating. Woohoo! Step one achieved.

Then it was time to swim to the shallows. It was awkward but easy, actually easier than I thought. But then the hard stuff started – the skills. Skills are the basic tasks you need to be able to do in order to get your certification. Kinda like a swimming test. Including clearing water out of your mask, clearing water out of your regulator, and how to recover a regulator that’s come out of your mouth. All while underwater. Those were easy. Although the wonky weights had me tilting and falling all over the place. Nico was a super instructor. Giving Adrian and I enthusiastic thumbs up and high fives whenever we did one of the skills. The last skill was the one I’d heard was the worst – taking the mask off. Doesn’t sound like a big deal. That is until you realize that your mask is what let’s you see and what keeps the water out of your nose, throat and lungs. But Nico showed us step by step how to do it and it was a piece of cake. We celebrated down below with a happy dance - well more of a happy wobble since my weights prevented any sort of graceful movement.

Mission accomplished it was time to swim back to the boat. My feet started to cramp as I tried to keep my ginormous fins on. And it took me forever to get on the boat with all the weights they’d made me carry. But with the help of Carmel, Avishai and a couple of divemasters I got my fins and then my gear off and was on the boat. On the way to the next dive site, we saw a sea turtle and Nico found a smaller pair of fins for me that I hoped would prevent my feet from cramping again.

The second time in the water was even better. Jumping in was a piece of cake. And this time there were no skills. It was our first real open water dive. And immediately we saw fish and coral and it was amazing. I got the hang of it pretty quick, in fact most of the stuff I was worried about just seemed to take care of itself. I equalized my ears without thinking. I cleared water out of my mask no problem. And was able to control my buoyancy in the water just by breathing in and out. I got so confident that when my mask fogged up (not enough spit, i was told) Carmel motioned to me to fill it with water then clear it – and I did without hesitating. Immediately, my vision improved a hundred fold. We played with these cool umbrellas things on brain coral – when we snapped our fingers near them and they closed and disappeared inside the coral. There were big fish and little fish. Solitary fish and huge schools. There was even a giant crab or lobster thingy. (sorry, no pictures. my camera is not water resistant) I got so engrossed I realized I had no glue where, how deep or how long we were. But I was aware that Adrian wasn’t having as easy a time and probably spent more time on the surface than down with the rest of us. Then it was time to go back up. This time I took my weight belt off before attempted to get on the boat – much easier.

Our first day in the water was awesome. And I couldn’t believe I was ever scared and was now thinking we should do the advanced course. But first we had to finish that last part of our reading. Adrian, had already lost some of his enthusiasm thanks to his inability to equalize his ears or stay down underwater consistently. And the last chapter full of maths, formulas and tables didn’t help. But it was the last chapter and tomorrow we’d be going back in the water. I couldn’t wait.

Hitting the books.

It was a perfect day for studying. Meaning? It was pouring rain. Supposedly doesn’t make a difference in the water but did make a difference above ground. The notorious sand fleas and mosquitos of Utila were out in full force and bug spray was almost completely ineffective. I was beginning to look like I had chicken pox although Adrian remained almost unscathed. It didn’t help that Cross Creek Dive Centre was located on the boggy Cross Creek where the bugs were thickest. I covered up as much as I could in the muggy weather and lounged on our deck plowing through the reading material, briefly chatting to the American couple staying in the room next to us. He already had his certification so she was doing his so they could dive together. Which meant he was a little bored at the moment. They were only on a brief two-week vacation and were jealous of our trip. They were the first people we’ve met that haven’t been on big trips. It seems like everyone and there dog is doing a RTW trip so it was nice to be reminded that what we are doing is special.

By late afternoon the weather cleared up just in time for our first class indoors – of course. Actually it wasn’t a class so much as an oral test of the material. With just the two of us, it went by quite quickly, leaving us plenty of time to watch the accompanying videos for the next four hours. It was a lot to take in and we hadn’t even hit the water. I worried that it would be too much to remember especially when the consequences for not remembering stuff could be death. But Ita told me that once we were actually doing stuff with the gear it would all make more sense.

I was still really nervous about diving. I’m a control freak and relying on equipment to keep me alive underneath the sea is kinda scary because it’s out of my control. Plus all the skills we have to do look scary. It didn’t help that the skills were all things you need to do in case something does go wrong under water – although I kept being told that was very, very, very rare. And Ita insisted that diving was easier than swimming or snorkeling and was going to teach us how to free dive (snorkeling underwater) too. I hoped it would be easier. Because tomorrow we were heading out for our first day underwater. Gulp – I hoped we’d be ready.

Over dinner, we met Ellen, a Swedish girl who was a diving addict. She was just here for some fun dives and was considering doing her divemaster. I told her I was scared and she told me there was nothing to worry about. She’d been on the road for 3 months and was headed in the opposite direction. And she became the third person we’d met to tell us to go to Colombia, especially if we end up loving diving. Colombia is not only beautiful, it’s also another cheap and good place to dive. However, weather money and time will be the deciding factor about Colombia. We were seeing more rain and that could mean the start of the rainy season – which could make roads hard to travel and some destinations hard to enjoy.

Despite all my fears, it was nice to be back in school. At the end of the course, we’ll have accomplished something that we never would have done before and that’s one of the goals of this trip. As well, the course has given me an opportunity to collect more gold stars and happy faces, hopefully that would continue tomorrow.

Going under water, or rather, over the book.

When planning this whole round the world trip, I did a whole lotta research. I found some pretty nifty blogs and exchanged emails and messages with lots o’ peeps who were on or had done or were just about to leave for their own adventures. When a change of plans (i.e. we didn’t have enough money saved up) meant we were starting in Central America, one of those peeps, Cindi, inspired me and encouraged me to consider learning to scuba dive in Honduras. Now I love the water, but I usually shy away from any past time that could end in death. I guess I’m also a bit of a wimp. So I was conflicted. But Cindi convinced me that I’d love it and cautioned that I could even become addicted to it.

This was the reason for our next destination, Utila. The Bay Islands on Honduras’ Caribbean coast are supposed to be the cheapest place to get your scuba certification. Those who know me, know I love a good deal (notice I didn’t say cheap) so how could I resist. The Bay Islands are also one of the best places to learn because of the high concentration of instructors and the amount of dive sites. Quality and low cost - now that’s what I call a good deal. I was, however, still dealing with that whole wimp thing. But one of the schools I emailed were so accommodating and encouraging that on Monday morning we set off to Utila eager to get under the water.

We took a taxi to the ferry dock and paid what the driver asked for – it was too early in the morning (the Spanish part of my brain hadn’t yet woken up and neither had my desire to argue). There was a ferry getting ready to depart in the next half hour which was just enough time to count all the other backpackers waiting to get on board. I guess everyone is after the good deal.

The ferry itself was large and air conditioned – a lot different from the boats we’d taken so far – making the trip one of the easiest ones. As we pulled up to Utila, it bigger than I imagined – it even had a big hill/almost mountain at one end – a lot different from our last island adventure on tiny Tobacco Caye. But it was also very built up around the dock with cute guesthouses and waterfront cafes lining the sea – a lot different from what we’d seen in Honduras so far.

On the ferry dock, we all had to wait while the police dogs sniffed all the luggage for drugs. Then it was time to run the gauntlet of dive school reps who were there to greet the ferry. Unlike taxi drivers at bus stops, they didn’t hassle us at all and were helpful when I said I was looking for the folks from Cross Creek. Kim was one of the folks as she walked us over to the school we chatted. Originally from Barrie, she had working in the music industry before arriving in Utila a year ago. Now she was one of the instructors with no plans to leave anytime soon.

As part of our tuition we were getting a free room which had air conditioning and a private shower. No private toilet – that was down at the edge of the dock. It was rustic but clean except for the many mosquitoes and sand flies. There was also a kitchen so we could save some cash by cooking. Once we were settled in, we got our course stuff figured out. Kim wouldn’t be our teacher but Itamar would. He gave us our new PADI books and a whole bunch of reading to do before our first class the next day. Itamar suggested we just do the quizzes at the end of each chapter rather than read the whole thing. But since I still had that whole fear of death thing in the back of my head Adrian and I wanted to read it all. It was a lot to take in and I’m glad we have more than 24 hours to read it.

But after 4 hours of reading it was time for a break so we headed to the grocery store where we got a bit of a shock. Because Utila is an island, the prices were double if not triple. So rather than branch out, spaghetti was on the menu once again. Well, at least we get two free breakfasts during our stay – once we pay. I made dinner and then it was back to studying. Before we go under water we had to go over the book.

Second verse same as the first.

From everything I had read and heard about La Ceiba, I wasn’t looking forward to heading. Crime. Dirt. Drugs. And all sorts of general ickiness. But it’s a necessary stop to get to Utila so we had to do it. On a positive note, it was supposed to be the start of La Ceiba’s carnival, a week-long celebration and street party and that sounded like fun. So we set off in search of a good time.

A nice air conditioned taxi deposited us at the same gas station we had arrived at and 10 minutes later (and 15 minutes early) the bus pulled up. It was another non-airconditioned coach but with the windows open it was fine. Of course, we had to close the windows when it began to pour (photo above). But without the sun beating down it was still bearable inside. It was a short ride to La Ceiba where we were once again let off beside the highway. I guess they spent all their time and money on the giant bus station in San Pedro Sula and couldn’t afford any others in the rest of the country. And it required us to take a taxi which I might add was cheaper than the ones in Tela for a longer ride. We got out at the first cheap hotel on my list and they had plenty of room and two nights cost less than one night in Tela. Sure there was no air conditioning but we had a powerful fan, tv and private bathroom. Well at least we’re back on budget and that alone makes me like La Ceiba more than Tela. Yay we may be able to afford those scuba lessons after all.

Now it was time to find that street party. Our hotel was just a couple of blocks away from the central park. But since we’re in the English part of Honduras there was no cathedral or other municipal buildings. We found those around the corner. There were decorated for carnival but there didn’t appear to be any street party happening today. There wasn’t much of a beach so we looked at doing some nature tours or staying out of town but as the heat beat down the idea of being outside all day seemed less and less appealing. So we went for ice cream instead.

We headed over the bridge to the more backpacker part of town in search of a place to eat with lots of cooked vegetables. There was supposed to be a Chinese food place there but it was long gone (stupid 5 year old lonely planet). And our options looked limited. Most places were bars or looked really expensive which was weird because the area looked dodgy and not very inviting. After walkin as far on the strip as we dared, we ducked into one of the pricier places. I stuck with baldeas which are a Honduran bean and cheese quesadillas served with pickled veg – tasty. While Adrian went for the fajita and chips which interestingly enough came with a visit to the salad bar. Although, I find a salad bar in an open air restaurant in Central American in a town that has a certain stench, a little suspect. The best I could do was advise him to avoid the lettuce.

While we ate we noticed the bars across the street were suddenly very packed and very noisy not with music but with a football game. In fact every place with a tv was turned to the game including security guard in closed stores. Places without tvs had radios blaring out the play by play action. It was obviously an important match but it also meant that there was no evidence of the carnival that night. Actually, besides the bars everything was shut up tight. So we went back to our room where we watched the game. It was the Honduran championship - Olympia versus Real España. We didn’t know what cities they were from or even where the game was being played but when Olympia scored we could hear all of La Ceiba cheering. But there was to be no satisfaction tonight as the game ended in a 1-1 draw, a lot like our experience so far with La Ceiba.

One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish

As the tourist brochures proudly proclaim, the second largest coral reef in the world (and growing) lies off the coast of Belize. So watch out Australia. It was now within a stone’s throw from our cabin porch tempting us from the moment we arrived on Tobacco Caye.

After our communal breakfast, we all headed out with Blinkie to explore it. Joining us on the tour were two more Canadians (this was getting ridiculous) from Vancouver Island. Adrian stared hesitantly at the boat, remembering yesterday’s rough ride. But the seats today actually had backs and cushions and the sea was calm. So he was convinced to get in. Well, that and the snorkeling.

Our first stop was the manatee reserve to look for these large so-ugly-they’re-cute water mammals affectionately known as sea cows. It was mating and birthing season so we were told we couldn’t snorkel but we had a 90% chance of seeing one from the boat. However, seeing was a misnomer. Manatees only pop up for air for a moment or two before going back underwater. Plus they hate boats. Propellers are the number one killer of manatees – I’d hate them too. In an hour we spotted two lumps and trusted they were manatees. Hopefully our sea life spotting odds would improve while snorkeling.

On the way to the reef, we passed by Man o’ War Caye known locally as Bird Island. It was roughly the same size as Tobacco Caye but covered in thousands of birds instead of Canadians, making me feel like I was Tippi Hedren in a Hitchcock movie. But we didn’t have to worry about bird attacks as they were too busy mating and babysitting. We did have to worry about one thing.

“This is the only place in Belize that it snows,” Blinkie said with a smile. Immediately we all pulled our arms in under the boat’s awning.

Unscathed we headed to a spot on the reef, geared up and jumped in the water. Adrian was a little unnerved about jumping into deep water so far from shore so Blinkie lead him to a shallow in the reef. I followed him. Good thing because my snorkel did not fit well so every third breath I was getting a mouth full of sea water which kinda defeats the purpose of a snorkel. Adrian and I switched. That fixed the problem and soon we were both feeling comfortable enough to join the rest of the group.

It was great floating around the sea, looking down on schools of fish in a rainbow of colours. Blinkie pointed out three different types of rays hiding amongst the coral and under the sand. He even swam down and coaxed them out. They swam, erm flapped, um glided away. Even when the fishes thinned out the coral was spectacular, big round brain corals, purple stuff like trees and the rocky main reef. I was so entranced that I didn’t notice a wave pushing me over the coral cutting my thigh. Good thing we hadn’t spotted any sharks nearby.

We spent an hour and a half floating around before heading back to the boat. Getting in everyone grimaced at the blood coming out of my cut – it looked worse than it was. So I pressed my hat up against the cut to stop the bleeding while we headed back to the Caye only 2 minutes away, just in time for the lunch bell.

At $25 US the tour was a bit pricey but well worth it. We signed out the gear until the next day and spent the afternoon exploring the reef around the Caye. The fishes and coral weren’t as spectacular but there was enough to make it worthwhile. It was about this time that I realized that I’d missed putting sun screen on the back of my thighs – there’s always one spot I miss. So I went to hide under some shade and left Adrian. While I caught up on my journal (the blog would have to wait until we had internet access again), Adrian attempted to swim around the entire Caye. He had to give up when it got to shallow on the east side.

Over dinner we compared our list of underwater spottings. Apparently, I’d missed puffer fish, barracudas and starfish. But since we had barracuda for dinner, I’d say I only missed two out of the three.

A town so sleepy, coma is better description.

After our rough cold night, Adrian and I wanted to leave as soon as possible. So quickly in fact that Adrian agreed to go without breakfast. Arriving at the bus station, I asked for tickets on the next bus to the border town of Chetumal. The attendant told me there was a cheap second-class bus leaving in 10 minutes but we weren’t guaranteed seats. When Adrian heard that he decided we could wait for the next first-class bus leaving in one and a half hours.

“Plus, then we can get breakfast” he added. The breakfast sacrifice could only last so long, I guess.

So I bought the first class tickets and then watched the empty second-class bus pull into and out of the station. Oh well, time for breakfast. I wasn’t expecting much after our first attempt at food in the town, but the restaurant next to the bus station proved me wrong. It was tasty, and a lot less than what we had been paying at Papaya Playa and it had bathroom signage that amused Adrian. Too bad we hadn’t found it our first time around.

We were soon on the bus to Chetumal and after two and a half hours in the bustling border town. The frequent buses to Belize leave from another bus station but I thought I’d at least check if there was one leaving soon-ish from the station we were in. I waited in the slowest moving line for almost 30 minutes only to be directed to another empty line at a tiny kiosk. Then it was time to change speeds. The next bus was leaving… now. I handed a bunch of money (probably too much) over and grabbed the tickets and ran off to find Adrian who has outside smoking. Oh course, I forgot that this was Mexican time and right now is more like in the next 20 minutes so breathless and sweaty we got on the bus and waited.

Before the bus left I changed most of our pesos into Belizean dollars with an on board blackmarket money changer, holding on to some just in case there was an exit fee. I’d read conflicting reports about the Mexican exit fee a) since I’d arrived by plane it had been included in my plane fare b) there was none c) there was only one to get my tourist card stamped for double entry d) that I’d have to pay $20 each. I’m still not quite sure which it is because I paid the $20 each, got my tourist card double stamped and then had to run back to hand it back in since we weren’t coming back.

The border was interesting. It was out of town yet it was it’s its own town. You see, there’s a gap between the Mexican and Belizean borders known as the free zone. In that strip is a mini Las Vegas: casinos, neon lights, shopping malls and all sorts of tackiness. If the bus hadn’t of been waiting it would have been interesting to walk through the decadence. But the bus only paused long enough for everyone to pay their money and get their passports stamped before driving us 1km to the Belizean border station. Here we passed through a cheerful immigration line-up and a cranky customs line-up then back on the bus for the 20 minute ride to Corozal.

I was suspicious when we were the only people that got off and it didn’t take long to figure out why. Situated on Corozal Bay (photo above), a briny semi-circle of water, Corozal is a small town a world away from Mexico. There was a distinctly Caribbean flair here, not just because of the accented English (yes, English!) being spoken but instead of the concrete housing blocks we passed weather-beaten clapboard buildings on stilts as we walked from the bus station to the hotel.

The Seabreeze was located on the bay and even had a dock right outside the front door but best of all it was only $25 US (everything is quoted in US dollars here since the Belizean $ is pegged at two to one) and had a private bathroom with hot non-salty water and a tv with English channels. After 4 days in the twig hut on the beach it was a welcome change.

We showered and spent some time uploading photos, actually a lot of time since the connection was turtle speed (the usual for Belize we were about to find out), before heading out to find some dinner. We hadn’t seen much open on our walk in but Gwyn, the expat owner of the Seabreeze, directed us to Paddi’s around the corner and it was a good reco: delicious sea food, and okay prices.

After dinner we walked from one end of town to the other, accidentally, as we looked for an open shop. It was unsettling that everything was closed up tight but we shook it off as culture shock. Mexico was always bustling and Belize was known for it’s chill laidback feeling. How wrong we were.

A penny, I mean, 10 dollars for your thoughts.

Waking up to the sun rising over the waves did wonders for our mood and we made a pact not to let the price of everything bother us. With that in mind we set off for the ruins. No collectivos on the beach road meant a taxi but thankfully, all the prices were standardized. As did the admission price at the ruins – it was the same as we had paid at Palenque at Teotihuacan but that’s where the similarity ends. There were 10x the visitors to this site that was a 10^th of their size. And there was no shady jungle to shelter us from the blazing sun. The ruins are notable for their position right on the sea (see above) which didn’t disappoint but the small beach attached seemed to be the big draw for most folks. But we had endless beach back at our cabana. And the ruins were tiny and crowded compared to what we had already seen. We were thankfully done in an hour and jumped into an air conditioned collectivo and headed into town.

First stop was the bank to replenish our dwindling funds. And then we stopped in at the infamous Weary Traveller Hostel – infamous for its bedbugs. It’s the cheap place to stay – only $30 US for a private room, well semi-private if you remember that you’ll be sharing it with some 6 legged friends. But it also offered tours that we figured might be better priced. We decided to head to Chichen Itza the next day and the price ($45 US) didn’t seem too bad since it included lunch and a couple of other stops including a visit to a cenote. We also took advantage of the cheap hostel beer before the hostel put up a sign saying no cash bar, guest accounts only. I guess the Weary Traveller was weary of us. It was close to dinnertime so we set off in search of a reasonably priced meal along Tulum’s main street (the creatively named Av. Tulum) but were disappointed and relieved at the same time. The prices were about the same as they were back to Papaya Playa which at least meant the slightly shady owners weren’t completely taking advantage of us. But the food not nearly as good as what Papaya offered.

We ducked into a place that appeared to have a lot of locals in it – usually a good sign. But they were all family members of the owner and the food was mediocre. Even the waiter rhetorically asked “How was the food, so-so?” when we settled up. Oh well, lesson learned. We attempted to buy drinks to take back to the cabana but it being Sunday things were locked up – especially the alcohol so we settled for ice cream before heading back to out to the beach hut.

I caught up on a few emails when the generator turned on for a few hours in the evening – yes the place had wifi but no consistent power supply making a computer hard to use. Adrian played chess with one of the itinerant Argentinian musicians who were hanging around. He and his friend played music at the various cabanas and hoped to make enough money in tips or selling homemade cds to pay their way. They were slightly crazy but they were a nice break from the dance music that the bar pumped out the rest of the evening. Oh and Adrian won the chess game.

Chasing Che

January 23, 2008 - Playas del Este

Adrian and I only had two must do's on our agenda. See Havana. And chase Che Guevara.

You see ever since our trip to Buenos Aires, 8 years ago, Adrian has been somewhat obsessed with Che Guevara. Why? I'm not sure and I don't think Adrian is either. But slowly we've been tracing his footsteps around the world, by accident. First to BA then to Peru and now to Cuba. We can only hope that our trip to Bolivia will end better than his.

In Cuba, chasing Che meant a pilgrimage to Santa Clara, but how to get there was our problem. Car rentals were $300. Buses took at least 7 hours. And both of these options were not working with our time and money limitations. Thankfully, we were staying at a resort.

The next morning we had our first pass at the buffet and met with the tour rep. We were accompanied by the same haggard looking man who'd stumbled off the bus with us the night before. He made sure we knew this was his fifth trip to the Tropicoco and he wanted to drink. Considering the place has the atmosphere of a prison, I can understand the need for alcohol at 10am. But I didn't understand his need to brag about his previous stays. In an attempt to show his superior knowledge, he kept interrupting the tour rep which meant she had to repeat everything twice. By the end of it I think she was deliberately talking very slowly about unimportant hotel features just to annoy him as much he was annoying us.

Before she arrived, I'd picked up a brochure of tours. They had an all-inclusive two day tour of Trinidad, Santa Clara, Cienfuegos and Sancti Spiritus for $150. This seemed like a good deal. Unfortunately, the tour had already left that morning. But the tour guide helped us book with another company. We also signed up for a day trip to Cayo Largo the day after. $600 later we were headed to the beach.

That's right I sat in the sun, tempting fate with only my 30 SPF sunblock between me and certain blisters. It was just what Adrian and I needed a day of doing nothing. I brought a book with me and didn't touch it. Instead I just sat back and enjoyed figuring out the religion of many of the men on the beach a very easy task due to the high speedo ratio on the beach. In fact Adrian was one of a handful of men not wearing tiny pants - it had the effect of making his shorts looking more ridiculous than the fat old men in banana hammocks.

Needless to say we skipped lunch, preferring to munch cuban cheesie wotsits on the beach and drink watered down piña coladas. Very watery, as in we both needed to pee. Unfortunately, there was no loo on the beach and our hotel room seemed oh so far away. So we did what we had to do. We ventured into the sea. Now don't waggle your finger at me. There are millions of fish and other animals that pee in the sea every day so our 4 piña coladas were no big deal. I'm sure we weren't the only ones.

We stayed on the sand until 6, had dinner and some drinks before packing our overnight bag and turning in preparing for our two days of Che Chasing.

January 24, 2008 - Santa Clara, Sancti Spiritus

I woke up at 6 am the next morning and watched the news while packing. Saw that Heath Ledger had died. There's something odd about being far away from home and seeing breaking news stories on CNN or BBC. They feel bigger than they actually are. I guess because they're not buried in the day-to-day chaos. But I digress...

The bus picked us up promptly at 8:15. Getting on I scanned the crowd and guessed the average age was 50. We picked our seats at the back and braced ourselves for the hell that is a packaged tour. Our oh-so enthusiastic tour guide, Rita, pointed out that there was a mix of Spaniards, French, Russian, German, Ukrainian and Australian folks in the group. In other words, there wasn't going to be a lot of chitchat between all of us. Introductions out of the way, we set off.

My worst fears about the package tour were coming true when after a couple of hours on the road we stopped at a roadside park/cafe/zoo/bar/campground for a morning refreshment. But Rita was almost apologetic when she warned us to stay away from the man selling tickets to win rum ("i've never seen anyone win, ever"), pointed out the washrooms, and where to get a tasty cup of coffee. She also walked to the back and apologized for her English explaining it was her 4th language. (frankly it was much better than many people's first) and introduced us to the other native English speaker on the bus: Ben, a young australian traveling around the world.

The three of us wondered aimlessly around the park, trying not to make eye contact with the rum seller, or the cigar seller, or the cd sellers, or the craft sellers.

Soon enough it was time to head out on the road. We spent the next couple of hours chatting with Ben about travelling and looking out the window at the political billboards that dotted the roadway. 

Along the road people were hanging out and waiting. Rita explained that they were waiting for a ride. Because public transportation is scarce, people wait by the side of the road for a ride share. Government vehicles are required to stop and take as many people as they have room room. It's sanctioned hitchhiking. Pretty cool and made me wish that something like this existed elsewhere particularly in Canada. In the winter. When I'm freeing my ass off at a bus stop. 

Within a couple of hours we reached Santa Clara - the epicentre of che chasing. Our first stop was the train memorial, site of Che's bulldozer battle with an army supply train. The museum in the train was tiny and with the arrival of another tour bus it was quickly overrun. Adrian giggled with glee as he climbed over, around and under the train taking it all in in the allotted time while I chilled outside enjoying another non-winter winter's day. Before I started to get burned we were herded back on the bus for our next stop.

The bus dropped us off in the main plaza of Santa Clara. The problem with plazas is once you've seen one you've seen them all. And in Peru we'd seen about 15. So while the rest of the tour took off around the plaza, Adrian and I chilled in the shady park. There was a theatre, an old building that was being restored, provincial government buildings, and another theatre. Oh and there was a fountain of a boy holding a leaky boot, which a guy in the park turned on when we sat down near by and then off as soon as we got up to leave. While we were sitting there we were immediately approached by two guys who wanted to sell us some cigars. Unlike touts we've encountered elsewhere, they were pretty chill. Even when we said no to the cigars they stopped with us and chatted until they had to go back to work at the cigar factory.

Ben reappeared and then the rest of the tour group and was time to get back on the bus. We stopped at a tourist buffet for lunch complete with free beer so I pulled out the camera to add another beer shot to our collection. We were soon joined by Michael, a German consular services employee who was in Cuba on vacation while he awaited notification where he would be stationed next. Both he and Ben had been in Cuba longer than us and shared lots of tidbits. 

After lunch we headed to the Che memorial and mausoleum. Adrian was in the holy land. Giant Che kept watch over an empty plaza. Around the back (no pictures allowed) was Che's mausoleum. Just recently, the Cuban government had repatriated his body from Bolivia as well as that of his fallen comrades. And they were laid to rest in the memorial. Next door there was also a small but extensive museum devoted to the life and times of Guevera - Adrian and Rita had an informal Che factoid competition with Ben, Michael and I caught in the middle of their onslaught. Rita gave up on Adrian and decided to point out to me just how guapo Che was. I agree Rita - he was rather dishy.

Since it was about one million degrees in the concrete plaza, I was quite happy to get back on the bus. The heat had zonked everyone out so Rita was quiet as we drove through the countryside past sugar cane fields, past more political billboards and hitchhiking posts, toward our next stop Sancti Spiritus. 

It was getting late in the afternoon as we pulled up in Sancti Spiritus, a sleepy town where we would be spending the night. It was also getting rather cloudy. Rita took us around the town, through the main plaza, down tight streets where dogs slept in front of shuttered windows, past a second hand shop that had the latest alarm clocks on display, through a market, around beautiful old cars, down tighter streets (remember this), cutting through a pickup game of baseball, and finally stopping at a bar on the river bank.

That's right a bar. Which meant another beer for Ben, Michael, Adrian and I. But I swear it was purely educational since the bar overlooked Cuba's oldest bridge. Finally, the clouds opened and it poured so we hung out until the rain passed. By the time it was clear, it was also dark. Not a problem for us as we found the bus easily. However, the bus driver wasn't so lucky. 

Remember those really tight narrow streets I was talking about earlier. Well apparently the bus driver didn't. While attempting a 378 point turn to get us out of Sancti Spiritus, the driver didn't notice the street sing pushing on the bus window between Ben and I's heads. We also didn't notice the ominous creaking sinking-titanic sounds it was making. Nor did he register Ben shouts of "the window is going to break". Until of course it was too late. 

Suddenly an intricate spider web pattern spread across the window. It stayed in place for what seemed like an eternity - which gave Adrian, Ben and I time to jump out of our seats and across the aisle - before crumbling into a thousand million trillion pieces. 

Despite the Curious Incident of the Bus in the Night (or CIBN for short), the bus driver didn't stop, flinch, look back or acknowledge the CIBN and eventually made his way out of the Sancti Spiritus and on to the highway. 

Adrian, Ben, Michael and I looked at each other in awe as the wind from the now empty window tussled our hair. But no one else seemed to notice. 

It was only when we stopped at our accommodation for the night that Rita and the bus driver came back to inspect the damage, followed by every other person on the tour and their cameras. We were quickly ushered into the checkout with a shrug of the shoulders and offer of cuba libres. 

The CIBN would be replayed second by second over the buffet dinner and many beers by Adrian, Ben, Michael and myself. And managed to upstage the evening entertainment provided by the hotel. Of course considering the entertainment was some guy with a mullet pony tail doing magic tricks and riding a unicycle it wasn't that hard. 

January 25, 2008 - Trinidad and Cienfuegos

The next morning we set off for the next two stops on our tour - Trinidad and Cienfuegos. The broken window from the CIBN had been half-covered in cardboard and the curtains pulled across to disguise the damage. That lasted for about 15 minutes before getting blown out on the highway. No worries it meant fresh air on the bus and great views of the countryside around the Sierra del Escambray. 

After about two hours on the road, the bus pulled into an old sugar mill in Manaca Iznaga - just outside of Trinidad. The mill still had a watch tower that could be climbed so of course before I could blink the boys were running up the stairs to take in the same views the foreman would have had of the sugar cane fields where the slaves worked. I stayed firmly on the ground and checked out the handmade linen on display in the wind and the manor house which was now a simple tourist shop. 

Soon we were back on the bus and pulling into Trinidad. Trinidad is one of those post card cities of Cuba. A small colourful colonial town that seems perfectly preserved. There aren't any sites to search out, instead, the whole town is something to take in. It reminded my a lot of Cusco in Peru but unlike Cusco I actually wanted to stay there longer. 

Rita took us on a walking tour around the town, over cobblestone streets and around the the main plaza. She then took us on a tour of an old colonial house of a former wealthy landowner in the area - it's now a museum full of pretty nice things, however, I thought the views from the top floor was the best part. 

Next we stopped in the church before heading for a music break at one of the many cafes in town. Rita tried her best to get everyone to dance. The music was awesome so I was content to sit and take in the show Rita and the band where putting on. By  this time, Ben and Adrian were plotting something else. Both had seen a club mentioned in the Lonely Planet that was built in a cave and despite it being the morning they were determined to find it. 

Michael and I tried to talk them out of it over drinks at the Canchanchara and later during lunch. "you don't know where it is" "it won't be open" "we don't have time". We thought they were over it. We had lunch serenaded by more musicians. Ben sat and talked to Rita for 30 minutes about politics. And Adrian and I probed Michael on his experiences living in China and Turkey. Suddenly Ben appeared, turned to Adrian and said "let's go". Before Michael and I could object, they were off. It was only minutes later that Rita appeared to gather us all up for the ride to Cienfuegos. 

"But Adrian and Ben, they just left to go to the cave club," I panicked.

"What!? I told Ben it was too far. I thought he was a good boy. He promised," replied Rita before launching into a stream of Spanish that wasn't in my dictionary or most polite conversation. 

Michael ran off to try and track the boys down not knowing what direction the mythical cave club was in. He came back a few minutes later when everyone was on the bus. Rita requested a volunteer to wait for them while we transferred our luggage to a new bus. I tried to volunteer but Rita refused telling me my husband was not my fault. And it seemed that the trip of chasing Che had turned into chasing Adrian and Ben. 

After 20 minutes of waiting, the Russians and Ukrainians were revolting; they no longer wanted to stay with the tour and were going to catch a bus back to Havana themselves. Rita tried to convince them to stay but their lack of any of the 4 languages Rita spoke and her lack of either Russian or Ukrainian meant an unsuccessful negotiation - the mutineers had bought bus tickets to head back on their own. Finally 10 minutes later, Adrian and Ben appeared unaware of the grief they had caused. We set off  three people less, on a new bus headed to a new city. 

I gave Adrian the old stink eye for the journey to Cienfuegos. Unfortunately, I think Ben was more affected by it. Sorry Ben. Good thing it wasn't that far away. 

Our first stop in the city was an old stretch on the Bay lined with beautiful old colonial mansions. We were let out for a quick pit stop at one which had been converted into a restaurant. Michael, Ben and Adrian wandered off, perhaps still a little apprehensive of me while I walked over to the malecon to take in the view of the bay. I had one of my toy cameras on my wrist which caught the attention of a guy hanging out on the sea wall. He laughed at it and wanted to know why I had a toy with me. When I explained that it worked and took four pictures in one, he immediately wanted one. So I took a shot. He motioned that he wanted to see it and I had to explain that it was film. He looked disappointed so I took out my digital and got another shot of him. He was quite pleased with how he looked and gave me his address to mail him a copy of the shots. Here it is Luis. When I develop the film in the toy camera I'll send you your copies. 

By now the bus had pulled up and we were back on it and driving into the city. After the rest of our trip, Cienfuegos seemed a bit anticlimactic. We walked along a prado to the plaza which was like other plazas; there was a church, some government offices, a theatre, and a college set around a square. It was nice enough but I'm glad we didn't stop there overnight. 

Back on the bus, we drove back to the hotel. It was a 3 hour drive in the dark. So Adrian pulled out his PSP to kill some zombies and I put on my iPod. Just before Havana we exchanged contact info with Michael and Ben and wished them luck on both of their travels - hopefully with no more Curious Incidents of Buses in the Night. Who knows maybe we'll cross paths again some day.

It was after 9pm when the bus pulled up to the Concrete Monstrosity™. We quickly said our goodbyes and grabbed all our belongings from the dark bus (or so we thought) and went right to bed exhausted from a very full two days. 

Staging an intervention

Hi my name is Liz and I am a travel addict.

Adrian and I have had a moratorium in place on travel while we save for our planned round the world adventure (from this point forward known as the Big One). However, we are addicts and we had a relapse. 

It's been 6 months since we've been anywhere and over 13 months since we've been on a real trip and it's another 9 months until we leave on the Big One. So we looked at some prices did some math and chose Cuba. I know, I know, what's a melanin-challenged girl doing chasing the sun? Well, sunburns are my childbirth - the hurt like hell but as time passes I forget the pain and just remember the good times. Plus, it's minus one bazillion in Toronto so a sunburn seems more desirable than frostbite. 

We checked the usual suspects on the net - itravel2000, redtag, selloffvacations, exit - finally finding a $600 all inclusive just outside of Havana, far away from the tourist hell, i mean mecca of Varadero. 

So on January 22 we left for a week. Yes, that also happens to be Adrian's birthday. Good thing, since I'd forgotten to buy a card but could tell him that this trip was my present to him. (phew, that was quick thinking). Here's our day-by-day. Oh and this is going to take forever, so be patient. 

January 22, 2008 - Toronto to Playas del Este

I haven't flown on a charter in probably 10 years. And the last time I stayed at a resort was 5 years ago in West Africa. Not because I'm a snob but because I'm cheap. I've found regular airlines to be just as cheap and with better flight times than charters and resorts often more expensive than going on your own. However time was also a factor so here we were about to fly a charter to an all-inclusive resort. 

I'm not sure what I was expecting in Cuba. Bread line-ups, miserable people, poverty, pushy folks who'd do anything for a bit of money. Guess what, it wasn't like I expected, except of course for our hotel. After 7 hours of travel time (1 hour to the airport, 3.5 hour uneventful flight, 1.5 hours on a bus), we arrived at the Concrete Monstrocity™, known in tourist brochures as Hotel Tropicoco. 

In the unflattering midnight light, it was less tropical paradise and more soviet hospital (most fitting since it was used as a convalescent centre for Venezuelan eye surgery patients last year) - completely devoid of all personality. I wish I could say it looked better in the daylight but that would be a lie - we weren't surprised by it's lack of style. But who cares - we were only 20 minutes outside of Havana which was what we came for not the resort. 

And when you're trying to cure a travel addiction, it helps if the relapse isn't comfortable.