Tacuarembó without gauchos

Two nervous people met at the Tacuarembó bus station (in Northern Uruguay) on Monday evening; one experienced surfer who had accepted a couch from a serial-killer looking guy without any previous references and another, CS beginner who didn't know what to expect from his first hosting experience. When I left Gonzalo's place on Thursday morning we were both happy it worked out so well: He didn't kill me and I didn't steal his shit. And we both made a new CS friend and will meet again this Sunday in Montevideo.

Tacuarembó was refreshingly small and quiet town after all these cities I've found myself in lately. If you're ever been to Stureplan in central Stockholm you know the mushroom monument there (the pole you held on to after having too many drinks at the Spybar = Swedish for throw-up bar). Well, Tacuorembó has got one too, and it might not be surrounded with crowds of people with perfect bone structures and outfits that cost more than your monthly rent, but an outdoor pool, a few palm trees and blooming cactus make up for that nicely. MAISEMA Having free wifi in all public parks is a bonus too, especially for a poor traveller who hadn't remembered to call her mum in Skype for more than 7 weeks.

Montevideo (bus 5h, 390 pesos, 14€ from Tacuarembó) welcomed me with a free map from the tourist office at main bus terminal and the adoption to two non-spanish speaking Aussies who I guided to my hostel for the weekend. The Che Lagarte Hostel took my backpack for safekeeping for the night for free and promised I was not only allowed to drink alcohol at the hostel when I checked in the day after, but they'd also provide ice and a bucket for my champagne. Relieved to have it all ready for my celebration I had lunch at the Basque Euskal Herria restaurant, enjoying eating vegetables and salads after consuming probably a whole cow, intestines and organs included, with Gonzalo and his friend the night before. Maybe I'll pop by for txupito of Basque magic potion pacharán tomorrow – for good old times... Then again, after a year of alcohol abstinence, a bottle of Champagne might be plenty for one day.


♫ I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it. I'm about to lose control and I think I like it... ♪

Rosario, Santa Fe and Concepcion del Uruguay

I took an early morning bus from Buenos Aires to Rosario (5h, 50 pesos, 10€) on Monday and was greeted by my host Juan at the bus terminal. After he finished giving virtual Spanish classes to his pupils all over the world we went for a walk to admire the beauty of the flag monument in Rosario, the place where the Argentinian flag rouse into the air for the first time. With a belly full of beautiful empanadas and tasty paella it was sweet to get to bed early.
On Tuesday I met Adriana, who happens to be friends not only with Juan but also my next host Martin, and we took a walk, had lunch and shared many thoughts together. Adri had read on my profile that I consider having a stroke at the age of 27 to be one of the most amazing things that has happened to me – the fact that her best friend died suddenly of a stroke at the age of 27 is definitely far from amazing. Our long talks on that and on some issues I had been battling with lately was great, something I really needed, when all my lovely friends I normally have these talks with are are so far away.



After searching for the best price for Dom Perignon in Buenos Aires (840-900 pesos, 165-175€) I forgot to buy it in the end, but luckily a shop in Rosario offered even a better deal: 880 pesos, but only 750 (145€) if you pay in cash. So I got my precious cheaper but without a receipt, which could cause problems in the Uruguayan border if I was very unlucky. My host, Juan, el viejo, turned 39 the next day so I got him a piece of cake and my Dom Perignon box, filled with something else than my precious though.

On Wednesday Martin picked me up from the Santa Fe bus station and welcomed me to their house known as Casa Babylon. He lives with two other guys, and from the looks of the flat you could never tell that its inhabitants are three males in their early twenties or thirties – everything is spotless and in perfect order (I wonder who'd like that...). And these guys are by no standards boring nerds who would spend their days only studying and polishing the house, but party animals with an active life style; going out every night, cooking yummy stuff every day and having friends coming over all the time.
We watched Nightwish concert videos, many episodes of Little Britain (wasn't even my idea, don't be giving me your evils!) and danced until 4am on Saturday morning, only 5 hours before my bus to Concepcion del Uruguay (6h, 48 pesos, 10€ ). I'll never forget the guys of Casa Babylon and their princess, the bitch Petra, and will be carrying a piece of them with me on this trip; The shoes I bought from the local shoe factory to replace my old sandals worn out from 6 weeks of walking are made from the same fabric as their table cloth!

The person waiting for me in Concepcion (del Uruguay) was a friend of my hosts, Adrian, the first CSer contacted in the city, who also me recommended staying with his friends José and Mariela at Mariela's dads house. After seeing the city centre we took a ride to the beach through the subourbs that were covered with a meter or two of water just this January, when the river flood, with our mate thermos, which is something Argentinians and Uruguayans would never leave behind, even though in my opinion this tea-like herbal infusion tastes like tobacco, not drinkable at all.

Then Adrian and his mother took me to a 1-year birthday party of a little girl in the neighbourhood and the mum reminded me of my mum asking me for example if I knew what digital cameras or pizza are – you never know what foreigners might find exotic, you know! The next day is was time for another, supposed-to-be-a-surprise-but-someone-spilled-the-beans, bday party when José's dad got 50 years older than the little girl yesterday.

In between chicken breast, potato salad and the caramel cake, José and I had a long talk on among other things the Finnish Botnia factory still causing demonstrations in Argentina. When he then asked me if I wanted come to his work at the local radio station later on the same day, I had no idea what I just said yes to. Only when the program was on air and he started by introducing the listeners to what today's show was going to consist of, I realised I was going to be on it! Luckily I didn't have to comment to the factory, since José just quoted some of my previous statements at the dinner table, when he was interviewing one of the demonstrators, but instead the two DJs surprised me by asking about my work, Adlibris and electronic books, 'cause the international book day is coming up next week. This was followed by some music by Jean Sibelius and Stratovarius; just an average night on Argentinian radio, I'm sure...!

I really liked hanging out with José and Mariela, having good conversations and many laughs with them and their friends, so leaving off towards Uruguay the next day was bitter sweet. I was almost holding me breaths in the customs to see if they'd take away my Dom Perignon, but both of us made it to Paysandú (1-3 hours, 15 pesos, 3€ ) and a few hours later to Tacuarembó (4h, 250 pesos, 5€) without a scratch.


Streets and dogs
The streets of Argentina, like in Mexico and Guatemala too, are filled with runaway dogs. My initial reaction was to think this was a problem. But no, people like the dogs, some of them are protected by the city and nobody seems to mind them. Most of the dogs don't bother you in any way, but even the ones that bark and run after cars causing traffic hazards seem to be popular with the locals. My host in Santa Fe actually got his dog from the street; just took it home with him. Now this street bitch is the princess of the household. People's attitude towards these creatures, and perhaps to animals in general, is probably more natural than that of those of us who only see leashed dogs who never run around to smell strangers, unless they are behaving badly of course. Dogs can be even a part of the family dinner, when the guests of a birthday party take turns in throwing chicken bones to the dogs wondering under and around the table.

However, one of the possible difficulties of being able to take a dog home from the streets without paying for it might be that you don't really have to think hard before taking a pet. You can just take it, but abandon it when it suits you, and obviously dogs have their feelings and needs too

Streets and men
The number one thing that has annoyed me in Argentina has been machismo, which is portrayed most clearly in the way men make piropos, flirtations comments, to women on the streets. First I thought it was natural for me to get offended when total strangers feel they have to right to harass me by making comments on my appearance and pathetic that this not only the act of the old and the ugly, but something that even the young and hansom have the habit of doing. What bugged me even more was that the local women, even though they said they don't encourage it, don't react to it negatively either, this way giving their signal of acceptance. Then someone ask me what my problem with people giving complements to each other and I replied this wasn't the case of people complementing each other but men commenting and judging womens' appearance. The reply was that it's not judgement 'cause piropos are aimed at all women regardless of their shape, size or any other feature. And being insincere is supposed to make it better, ey?!

But was is my problem in men giving complements to women really? I don't mind if a friend gives me a complement. Why do I get offended when a stranger does it? Why are we taught even since we are little not to talk to strangers or comment on anything about them aloud, not even anything positive? And the only excuse to break this rule is being drunk, when the drunkards comments are either completely ignored as drunken talk or taken as complements; things that they didn't have to courage to say when sober.

Weather can do that to a nation?
When Julio, an incredibly talkative and passionate Argentinian, a friend of my host Martin first said to me that he believes the weather has influenced the way Nordic and Latin societies have development to where they are today and that our welfare state is only a result of the arctic circumstances we live in the Nordics, I laughed. When he continued to explain how in hot climates people haven't had to plan as much since they could survive by sleeping on the beach and grabbing a fruit from the trees for food, while as in the North not planning ahead for the winter would've resulted in death and survival without co-operation with other members of the society would've been difficult, I still wasn't convinced to the least. But after leaving Julio and Santa Fe behind I continued analysing the differences between the North and the South also with José who pointed out that the most organised country in Latin America, Chile, happens to also be the one with the toughest climate in the area, and I little by little started seeing where Julio was coming from. Maybe. Who knows. Everything is part of it, and past has without a doubt an influence on how we think in the present. Research and endless interviews with to local population continue.

Well, I'm not sure if the climate has allready started affecting my compulsive plannin disorder (actually something has), but I've definately started getting used to the warm.
Yesterday I found myself wearing long sleeves in the temperature of 27 degrees Celsius and 23 felt just plain chilly. So I don't look forward to November in Stockholm but have started dreaming of the soon approaching June in Brazil.

“Tree huggers – be aware!” ->

Buenos Aires - the home of tango and good steaks!

After the exhausting Mexican heat, arriving to rainy and a bit chilly Buenos Aires on an early Wednesday morning was a relief, although I immediately realised that leaving most of my warm clothes behind to Mexico city was a mistake (I'm blaming you, Mike...). I wasn't in a hurry so instead of taking a direct airport coach (45 pesos, 9€) or a taxi (120 pesos, 24€) to the centre about 45km away, I chose the local bus number 8 which took 2 hours but cost only 3 pesos (0,6€).

Instead of couchsurfing I stayed at my old friend's, Pia's, place in their beautiful flat right in the heart of Recoleta. For once I knew I wasn't in a hurry to get to anywhere, so I took some time just chilling in their home, reading emails and news on that goddamn Icelandic volcano and just washing some dishes, which is an activity I've noticed I've started missing. Probably because I feel like a lazy bum for not doing any work or housework in the past 6 weeks; how on earth will I be able to slack off for 7 months...?

On Thursday I took a walk on the famous Recoleta cemetery shedding a few tears on the memory of some people I don't even know but seeing the sorrow of their loved ones in the beautiful statues and writings on their graves touched me. I also shed some angry thoughts towards the tourists posing happily in front of the camera on Evita's grave – yeah, she's famous, but she's dead too, so show some respect, will you?!


The Recoleta cemetery is an impressive but also a very sad place which shows you that no matter how much money you have to build a palace for a grave today, it doesn't mean you won't be forgotten tomorrow, or at least within the next 50 years.


Buenos Aires is a wonderful city for taking long walks (I walked hours and hours every day) and for shopping. If you know me, you probably know I don't really like shopping that much, at least not spending a long time doing it; I buy what I want and escape. But if I'd ever decide to take a shopping trip to a certain city, Buenos Aires might just be the one. The markets are full of completely unique, astonishingly beautiful hand made objects of all kinds and even though the prices are not ridiculously cheap, they are certainly bargains in relation to what you actually get for your money. We went to Recoleta market on Saturday and to San Telmo and La Boca on Sunday, and I had to hard time stopping myself from buying a lot more than I could carry or afford.

One of the strangest coincidences in Buenos Aires was a Argentinian guy called Christian contacting me on CouchSurfing: he had been to my tiny home village, Kerimäki, which 90% on the Finnish population have never heard of! He wanted to practise his Finnish and we went together to a tango concert with another Finnish friend of his, Masi. And just guess where Masi's parents were on the very day we met? Oh yes, in Kerimäki celebrating his grandmother's birthday!

Surfing
I've had a different style of couchsurfing on this trip. Normally you send 5-20 requests per city a week or two before your arrival, but so far I've only sent one to every city and most of them less than a week before showing up. The idea hasn't been to find a couch ('free' accommodation) but to get to know a cool person. And in only one place I haven't succeeded in that: the girl I send my request to in Guatemala city still hasn't logged in to read my message.

Most of the hosts I've chosen to contact have been very experienced ones, because having hosted quite a few people myself I'm interested to see how they host and hear their thoughts on CS. Perhaps surprisingly almost all of my hosts so far have been males, women don't seem to be as active CS hosts or log in on the site as often in this part of the world. Since I've been sending request so late, I don't really want to select hosts who might not get me message in time. Also it's been interesting to notice that most active CS people, who probably get the most requests, are also the ones who appreciate good, personal requests the most. I know how they feel, 'cause I've been there; after reading 10 copy+paste requests an original one really stands out.

Budget
I had planned my budget with the help of some guidebooks and online forums and idea was to get by with around 20-25€ a day including everything; food, accommodation, travel and entertainment. In Guatemala and Mexico this wasn't very difficult even though I was travelling pretty fast, and prices mentioned on my Footprint guidebook from 2009 were pretty much accurate. I think I even succeeded in finding cheaper options every now and then. But I made a horrible mistake when it comes to South America by buying a Lonely planet guide from 2007 from a friend and assuming that the information would still be more or less accurate. Somehow I've managed to miss all the news about the terrible inflation in South America, which has increased prices in for example Argentina with about 50-100% in the last couple of years. (I'm painfully aware of what sort of a ignorant twat that makes me.) So, in a nutshell, I'm fucked.

Or well, I can still get by in Argentina, and in Paraguay, Bolivia and Peru I hope, but Uruguay and especially Brazil are going to be tough. Worse case scenario will be having to come home a couple of months sooner than expected, which would definitely also have it's benefits when you think of how much I'm missing all of you and especially a certain Swedish gentleman right now. And then I'm going to come eat at your place...

Being alive rules!
On the first of May, on Walpurgis day in will be exactly one year since my stroke – so the day before will be the perfect day to celebrate being alive! In here they organise big celebrations exactly one year after somebody's died and I'm planning to pop open a bottle of Dom Perignon since that's not the occasion in this case. It's also been exactly one year since I had the last drop of my favourite drink, alcohol, because the doctors recommended a one-year break since consuming alcohol with a brain damage isn't exactly good for you. The original idea was to celebrate this day in Uppsala where I had the stroke and invite my best friend Minna to join me, but this trip made that plan a bit hard to accomplish. So the plan B is getting drunk on the best Champagne we could find on Skype. Minna's bottle was only 140€ but surprisingly mine is going to cost a bit more here in Argentina, about 180€. This might sound strange after what I just wrote about my budget on the last chapter, but since this is the biggest celebration of my life and if you compare these prices to the amount of money I've saved not drinking alcohol in the last year, minimum 50€ per week, it's not that bad. Now all I need to find is a good place with good wifi connection and I'll give you a report on the hangover in the next blog entry.

In the last year, I've talked to so many of you on the importance of enjoying every day of your life, not waiting for the better days. For me, taking this trip was part of that. Not waiting for a better time, but going now. Yet, I've noticed this wasn't really the right choice if the idea is to live every day as if it was your last one. Travelling alone is exciting, fascinating, educational and certainly good for me is so many ways, but how could I ever be happy without having you, friends, the most important thing in my life, to share these moments with?
I'm jealous of every single CS friday meeting and stupid Adlibris office joke I'm missing, not to mention not seeing some precious kids growing fast so far away. In the last year, I've realised I love my life and in the last two months I've come to understand where that life is. There, with the people I love.

Tapachula, Oaxaca and Mexico city

After some confusion caused by another couchsurfer cancelling her arrival by sms and my host Oscar thinking I sent the text, he did eventually pick me up from the centre of Tapachula and took my to his home to meet the family. Besides the mum, three sisters and one brother I also met one of their little house guests. I asked mum what the note “Don't turn the light off because of the cuijas” in the kitchen means and she started rumbling around in the kitchen to find one. When she finally asked me to stick my head behind one of the kitchen shelves to see one and I did, expecting to see some sort of a small bug, finding myself eye to eye with about 15 cm long greenish reptile made me scream and jump and Oscars family to burst into laughter.

On Thursday I finally admitted that having an upset stomach for more than three weeks and feeling dizzy every morning is not normal even for a Finn in the tropics and payed a visit to the local pharmacy which offers a doctor's consultation for 25 pesos (1,5€). After talking with me for 10 minutes, feeling and, not kidding, listening to my stomach with a stethoscope, the doc prescribed me three types of pills to get rid of the severe stomach infection as soon as possible. No fruits or juices, but shitloads of pill popping. And so far it seems to work like a charm. But if you ever happen to need to doctor in Mexico and go to see one at Farmacia Similares, keep in mind that these dudes work for the pharmacy – they will prescribe you more stuff that you actually need. So ask the doc which ones are really necessary and which not. I think I also would've had more faith in his diagnosis if it was based on any tests, but maybe that's just the Scandinavian in me talking.

The 12 hour night bus from Tapachula to Oaxaca (380 pesos, 23€) almost left without me on it, 'cause I didn't know they had gone over to summer time the night before, but I made it and froze my ass off as usual. A traveller I met had once asked the bus driver why the air condition is so cold during the night and was told that the windows would get all steamy and they wouldn't be able to drive if the temperature in the bus was higher than outside. Please don't tell this to Finnish bus drivers 'cause a trip home for Christmas in a bus colder than -20 C might not be fun. But I have to say I enjoyed the bus stopping at 3am for 20 minutes, not to use the rest room or buy something to eat, but just to sit outside in the warm, before going back to the fridge for the next 6 hours.

In Oaxaca I was hosted by another busy CS host, Rodrigo. His profile caught my attention by stating fly fishing as one of his favourite hobbies. Unfortunately a sudden hangover after a night of rock concerts stopped us from catching some fishy devils and letting them go free again (Rogrigo has never eaten any of the fish he's caught here and is not sure how good for you that would be anyway), but listening to some proper music after all these latin tingelings was sure nice. I didn't even know I considered heavy to be the proper music before this trip, but hey, live and learn.

Rodrigo's mum was busy preparing to “small” dinner for about 80 locals to commemorate her dad who passed away a year ago; not to cry or mourn, but the celebrate the good memories they have of their loved one. What a wonderful tradition - please promise that if you're alive one year after I died, get some (hopefully very old) friends together and get drunk for me!

Local specialities like tlayudas, tejate and hot chocolate tasted a lot better in the company of Rodrigo's two other guests from Hungary and Germany and the Tule Tree with a trunk diameter of 11.62m gave us shelter from the pouring rain.

The ADO buses to Mexico city take only 6 hours but would've cost more than the 12 hours ride from Tapachula, and that was something I simply couldn't accept, so after some detective work I found a company called Fipsa, not mentioned on any of the guidebooks or travel websites with its terminal hidden on a backyard close to the city's largest market place. The bus was just as good as ADOs (except warmer, thank god), the ride took 20 minutes longer only because of couple of snack breaks and the cost was 230 pesos (14€).

Coming back to Mexico city was nice 'cause for the first time in 5 weeks I knew my way home. Carlos' and Adrian's flat mate Alex was there to open the door for me and we were soon joined by their American and Brazilian CS friends. After being locked inside in the morning 'cause Nate temporarily lost his set of keys I decided to take a taxi to the airport (60 pesos, 4€) to leave my baggage there, since I didn't know how much they charge from lockers (outrageous 100 pesos, 6€), before going out to see the city centre for the first time.

I took a stroll around the main tourist sites without entering any of them, only visiting a cool photograph exhibition by Sousa, and finally through away my old, very worn pair of sun glasses 'cause I found a new one for only 40 pesos (2,5€). And within an hour from that, I was robbed for the first time in Latin America – not of my camera, mobile or wallet, but of that pair inexpensive sun glasses! I put them down on a shelf at a small boutique while looking at some cool handmade earrings and a minute later they were gone. So I figured that they must look good enough for it to be worth it to walk back to the store to get another pair.

Finding the way to the Mexicana check-in at the airport wasn't easy but after that everything went smoothly. Surprisingly, here they don't even care if you carry liquids as hand luggage, in case you want to take a big bottle of water with you for some reason. In between a dinner served at midnight and a breakfast at 5pm I managed to catch a couple hours of sleep.


A few Latin American concepts I've picked up on the way so far:

“No hay agua”
There's no water - anyone who's travelled in Latin America knows all too well what this means: running water is not available. The officials have turn the taps off so people wouldn't waste water. Since water is extremely cheap, nobody bothers to save it and some can even leave it running (for a reason I haven't quite figured out yet). You can't take a shower, flush the toilet or wash your hands. Unless the place you're staying at has saved some water in buckets when it was still available or a hotel or restaurant has a deal with the water company and they'll come to fill your tanks on request.

“Hay agua caliente”
This is how some hotels advertise their services, 'cause having hot water is definitely not something you can take for granted. In Tapachula my host Oscar said that he doesn't know anyone who would have hot water at home. Why would they? The coldest temperature he has ever experienced in Tapachula is about 20 degrees Celsius when people put on their winter clothes, something with long sleeves. The 36-39 degrees we had during my stay was normal, not particularly hot. And I can tell you I didn't miss taking a hot shower.

“A Mexican heterosexual man”
A man who is married or in a relationship with a woman, but who perhaps sometimes has sex with other men. I'm not saying that all Mexican heterosexuals do this but apparently many of those who do, don't consider themselves gay or bi. Just perfectly straight guys fucking other guys. (This made me laugh almost as much as this Swedish video.)

Travelling is like making a puzzle
You see shitloads of strange things, different pieces that don't seem to make any sense. Then you realise that those two pieces belong together, one cultural difference is result of another, and little by little you start seeing the picture, how everything works and why. But making puzzles with this many pieces takes ages and completing the puzzle would require living in the location for years. Can you tell that I love making puzzles? A shame I don't have the patience to finish them.

Easter without eggs and boating in Atitlan

Easter in Antigua was definitely an experience. Perhaps not something I'd like to experience again but without a doubt worth seeing once. The city has less than 30 000 inhabitants and during tourist season three times more visitors but on Easter week about 300 000 people come to see the huge processions taking place all over the city. Never heard of processions? Here's how it goes: First you close the streets where a procession is going to take place from car traffic and people start making 'carpets 'on the streets. These carpets consist of saw dust in different colours, flowers and all possible ornaments you can think of. The whole distance of the procession (can be more than 12 km) is covered by there colourful creations and if you wish to make one, you'll have to do it for 7 consecutive years. Most of the carpets are absolutely beautiful and watching people make them very fascinating, but from some you can tell that it's their 7th year and they don't give a shit anymore.

Then it's time to destroy the carpets by letting hundreds of people march straight through them. And many of these people will be among those carrying massive sets of wooden statues weighing up to 3000kg. It's a tough task but they walk kilometres in sometimes brutally hot weather, and they actually PAY to do it. Each procession takes hours and hours and people participating take turns in carrying the statues and walking beside them so that they don't drop dead and join their savior's house party too early.

Sides of the streets are packed with people watching and following the procession taking photos and trying to breathe in the overwhelming incense smoke. Rest of the streets are filled with tired drivers trying to get somewhere when almost all streets of the city are one-way and half of them closed because of processions. Taxis and, my personal favourites, tuc-tucs, motorbike taxies, cost double 'cause getting anywhere in or out of the city takes forever.

I stayed in Jocotenango, a 30 minute walk from Antigua centre, at Pampa's place. Pampa is Guatemalan CS king who's hosted over 200 people and known by everyone in the local community. And he's cool. Visit the Facebook page of his interesting Europe project here! I spent four nights at his place; first one with a Colombian girl, Diana, and two English girls, second one with Diana only, third one with Diana and two Guatemalan friends of one of Pampa's two flatmates and the last one with an English girl and Kanadian guy. So the place was busy, but there was room for all of us. Not much but enough.

I'm not going write what I thought of Antigua during semana santa 'cause it's not fair to judge the city after only seeing the place so overcrowded, so I'll get back to this after I return to Guatemala later. What was interesting is that I met two Finnish speakers; a Romanian dude who had lived in Turku and a Argentinian guy who had spend time in Tampere. The Romanian Codrut kept me and Diana company all Friday as we walked through the city markets admiring the incredibly handicrafts sold by local people.

On Sunday it was time to leave the city for a bit and go climb a volcano. I felt quite weak in the morning 'cause parasites (that seem to make friends with every travellers belly) and natural remedies recommended to get rid of them and to keep them away don't seem to be quite what my body is used to, but looked forward to the hike; first proper physical exercise I've had since I left Sweden. And the work-out was definitely a good one! Climbing on fairly steep ground for 1,5 hours in high altitude gets you sweating like a pig and takes your breath away in more ways than one. But as you get closer to the top, you'll find it was so worth it.
Lava flows from previous years as far as the eye can see, balancing on breaking pieces of volcanic rock to get closer to the red lava glowing ahead of you and finally roasting your marshmallows there is pretty awesome. The incredible sceneries you see on your way to the lava and the volcanic explosions from the top of the volcano in the dark on your way down aren't that bad either. Damn shame my camera isn't any better than it is.

If you're planning to climb the Pacaya, which I warmly recommend if you find yourself in Guatemala here's some useful info: transport from Antigua and back + guide less than 60 GTQ (6€), entrance 40 GTQ (4€). Take the afternoon trip leaving at 2pm. Things to take with you: flashlight(!), warm clothes (jacket), shoes that won't melt in the heat (read: not sandals!), any kind of gloves to protect your hands from cuts you get very easily from grabbing the lava rock, rain coat, a sandwich or something else to eat, marshmallows to roast on the lava and at least 1 litre of drinking water, a beer if you're into that. If you can be bothered to carry an extra beer someone will without a doubt offer to buy if from you for 50 GTQ as you get to the top. If you happen to have a pair binoculars, you'll see the lava explosions better than anyone else. You won't regret buying a stick from the kids selling at the entrance for 2-3 GTQ (don't pay the 5 they ask for) but remember to give them a hard time as they ask you to donate in back to them as you get down again. Those adorable little bastards.



If you're planning to travel anywhere from Antigua by anything but the chicken buses compare priced you're offered to those of travel agent at 6. avenida norte, 50 next to the Merced. You might save quite a bit. My next stop was Panajachel by lake Atitlan (bus 43 GTQ (4,30€), 3h) where I surfed with Sandra and her son Leo from Monday to Wednesday.




Lake Atitlan is considered to be one of the most beautiful places in Guatemala, and sure it was nice, a big lake surrounded by mountains, volcanos and small villages. It's just that if you grew up in the lake land of Finland, there aren't many lakes that can impress you that much.





But it was fun taking to a boat ride to a nearby town of San Pedro de la Laguna and Sandra and her son very extremely friendly and charming. In two days Leo gave me more kisses and hugs than I've received in the last four weeks altogether.


One of the neighbourhood girls had her 15th birthday party in their garden on the day I arrived and it was fun to see kids playing like kids, trying to hit the piñata to get the candy and eat creamy cake with their eyes sparkling as their parents are run the show and play DJs. I think most kids in Scandinavia celebrate their 15th birthday by getting drunk with their friends as far away from their parents and smaller siblings as possible...



I gave Leo and Sandra big goodbye hugs on Wednesday morning and now after four chicken buses (altogether 51 GTQ, 5€) and 8 hours I'm finally in Tapachula. Disappointingly enough Mexican border control did neither strip search me nor steal the dollars hidden in my backpack – where's the world going to if you can't count on them to do that...