Hello Honduras and all its pretty fishes!

The mouse I shared my room in Tegucigalpa with turned out to be not so friendly – Erik's backpack side pockets had two new holes in the morning (sorry about that; the mouse must have been too, 'cause all it got was perhaps two bread crumbs at the bottom of an old plastic bag).

Three 'staff members'(?) had only a day before confirmed me the bus would leave from a terminal right next to my hotel at 9am, and when I got there I wasn't even surprised to see the terminal closed with nobody around. Typical Honduras. I walked 5 blocks to another company stopping at La Guama (85L, 4h) and was soon on my way to Lago de Yojoa.

I stayed at El Cortijo (200L, 8€) where it looked like I was the only guest around and got therefore a triple suite, with a big terrace and wifi all for myself at the price of a dorm bed. I listened to the birds sing, watched the sun go down on the lake and read my book in this resort of peacefulness and serenity, and could not have felt happier. Well, maybe seeing the excitement of my bird watching friends, if they were there with me, could've even added to that, but I just had to use my imagination to see my dad, Teemu and Jussi jump up and down in front of my eyes as dozens of different birds (of the 400 the lake is a home to) made their appearance right next to my terrace. One of them sounded like an alarm clock though, which made me congratulate myself for having bought earplugs when going to bed.

The next morning I hitchhiked to the bus station and continued my journey to San Pedro Sula (30L, 2h) and La Ceiba (90L, 3h). Having about an hour before my ferry to Roatan on the Bay islands would leave I ran around with my backpacks doing some last minute grocery shopping since I had been told the Bay Islands would cut deep into my travel budjet otherwise, and bargained my taxi drive to the harbour down to 50 l (1,5€).

The ferry was not a pleasant experience, neigher for me nor my wallet (return 1024L, 39€), with a slightly stormy weather and little girl puking right next to me for the whole 1,5h. At Roatan I found out that the last bus to West End, where I was planning to stay in, was already gone and taking a taxi the only option. The taxi drivers tried to get me to take a cab for 25 US$ but I knew locals paid 50L (1,5€) for a collective taxi, so I refused and said I'd hitchhike.

Another traveller going to the same direction looked confused, but didn't want to get ripped off, or to get me raped, so he tagged along and in the end we got a ride for 60L each. This Australian around-the-world-tripper, Rob, also joined me to the hostel I had picked from LonelyPlanet, Milka's rooms. We were both looking for a dorm bed but since the dorm was closed and the idea of walking around longer in the dark with our luggage didn't seem too tempting, we settled to sharing a twin suite with a kitchen for 380L (14€).

So me and Rob shared a room, went out to get to know local beer selling establishments, cooked vegetarian food (I did, and he didn't complain) and tried to stay positive even though the weather was terrible – pouring rain all day long. When it stopped raining for a bit, we planned to go snorkeling to West Bay beach 4km away, but the lovely 45minute walk we were promised turned into a nightmare only after about 15 minutes: we had to walk in the water to pass some cliffs and I stumbled into a sharp rock hidden completely by the muddy water and got a nasty set of, not very deep, but heavily bleeding scratches on my leg. Good thing my handbag just happened to contain the last 15cm of my mum's 1m bandate, perfect to cover most of the cuts.

Rob wanted to learn to dive and I, slightly put off by my first diving experiences in Taganga, had come to the island to go snorkeling, so we asked around the different agencies and found many offering the same package: one-day scuba diving introduction for 100 US$ and snorkeling gear&wetsuit for only 10 US$. Since Rob was going diving anyway, I wouldn't even have to pay for the transport.

It was funny to see how differently everything was done with Rob here than with me in Taganga – I was never asked about my past medical conditions, made to read books or taught technique in shallow water but just told verbally what to do and dumped straight into the deep water. After the first day Rob wasn't at all surprised I had panicked and said he had been nearly ready to give up trying to learn all the initial stuff in the pool too. I snorkeled around happily on a nearby coral reef, floating in my wetsuit, saw funky fishes in all the colours of the rainbow and loved it.

Nicaragua didn't leave a strong impression

What I can tell you about Nicaragua is that it's not cold. It's the 'winter', the peak of the rainy season and it's about +30 degrees Celsius and sun shine all day. So complaining about the weather is pretty much out of the question.

Good thing I've got other things to whine over – mainly the Nicaraguan men, who (how would I put this in a nice way...) are uneducated macho bastards. Yeah, that's about it. They seem to treat their own women like shit and foreign women like pieces of meat. Women travelling in pairs or with a male are fine but any female walking on the street alone if game, free to be harassed at least verbally in any way you wish.

After more than hundred daily comments, hissings and whislings (and please don't mistake them for compliments - they mean the guy in question thinks you're easy) in too hot temperatures and too high humidity I told some of them to go fuck their sister like the normally do. Ignoring all the bullshit you hear has its limits too.

Getting to the island of Ometepe goes like this: you take a collective taxi to the San Jorge harbour for 10 cordobas, 0,30€, (not 20, not 60 and not 80 whatever the drivers tell you), then you pay 10 cordobas as an entrance tax and take a boat or a ferry to the island (1h, 30-60cor, 1-2€).

You walk pass the dozens of worn-out hotels offering rooms and dorm beds for 6-10$ (4-7€) and walk to Hospedaje Soma (first 5 minutes up the main road and then 5 minutes to the left) to find the nicest place in town: a German-run garden offering beautiful rooms in cosiest atmosphere spiced up with hard core heavy metal on request.


If you only get two blocks up the main road from the harbour and feel exhausted by the heat, you can stop at Gary's corner house for some freshly squeezed fruit juices or smoothies and stuff yourself with his world-famous ginger cake – the best cake I've ever tasted. Not kidding. These two places are also the only ones on the island that come with a non-sexual harassment & good laughts guarantee.

I got to beautiful Ometepe known for its two volcanos and sandy beaches at a time when all the beaches were completely flooded (read: only for the fishes to see but still for everyone to enjoy). So I went for a swim on both sides of the island with a basque guy from Vitoria-Gasteiz who I met on my first night at Hotel Aly's (single room 132c, 5€) and got to know Nicaraguan heath care system by getting my new tropical friend, an annoying red rash spreading mainly on my back fixed at the local hospital: after 20 minutes' wait I had seen a nurse, a doctor, received an injection on my thigh, had a box of pills and recipe for a cream – all for free.

I bumped into two girls from Uppsala, Ida&Nina, had a nice Swedish vegetarian sallad dinner with them and got rid of one of the eight Swedish pocket books I had carried with me all through South America (no, I don't know what I was thinking packing them either). The next day I finished another one, but the girls had already left the island so I went to a coffee shop selling used books to ask if they wanted it as a donation. Just as the lady behind the counter was wondering outlaud whether they ever had any Swedish guests, the only couple at the cafe raised their hands, and soon these two travellers from Stockholm - also frequent customers of adlibris.com - had something to read for the next couple of days.

After helping my host Zkini finish the beers left in his bar from the main tourist season, I headed to Granada (bus from Rivas 24c, 1€, 1,5h) in the company of Kacie, an american chick travelling in Central America for three weeks. She felt she could use a translator and I noticed that travelling together we got a lot less unwanted attention, or at least less harassment, than both of us alone.

My CS host Pushpanjali, or Doña Conchi as she is known by ALL locals, has a beautiful home which is also a very successful bar&restaurant right in the centre, conveniently only half a block to the Bearded Monkey hostel where Kacie stayed in. Pushpanjali started off by serenading me in Finnish (a little something she picked up living in Sweden for eight years!) and this added to the fact that this incredibly positive, bubbly and affectionate Spaniard who has travelled for months in India and lived in Central America for quite a few years now made sure we'd never run out of things to talk about.


Against all odds, I fell asleep early on Saturday in spite of the party that went on until 3am right next to my room, and got up early on Sunday to go visit the Apoya lagoon only 30 minutes away from Granada (3$ per direction with Bearded Monkey transport) and enjoyed an amazing day of the sun, tubing and cold beer with Roberto and Kacie at the Monkey Hut (entrance and use of facilities 150c, 6€ - included free if you stay the night).

I walked a bit up the hill waiting for our transport back to the city and found out pretty quickly where the name Monkey hut comes from; wild howler monkeys jumping from a tree to another kept me company all the way .

When I got back to Conchi's it was karaoke time! I wasn't planning to participate, but the empty house of the early Sunday night and a few beers did the trick – me and Pushpanjali's friend Tristan warmed up with “Imagine”, raised the bar with “Hotel California” and then did a comical duet “I got you babe” getting the crowd ready with for my grand finali with “Ironic”. It probably didn't sound too great, but we had shitloads of fun.

Next morning it was time to head to Estelí stopping for some handicraft shopping in Masaya and to change buses in Managua (in total about 5h of bus travel at 3€). Whole day was full of summer heat, sweaty backpack carrying and plenty of wrong street directions but having Kacie to share it with made it a lot easier. Masaya market place helped to get my souvenir/christmas present shopping on the roll, crossing Managua made us happy we weren't planning to stay there and Estelí was hmm... nontouristy.

Lonely planet describes Estelí also as an unpretentious and very Nicaraguan town, but I'd just call it an unfriendly town without any type of laundry service but with outrageously expensive hotels, kids that like to bug the hell out of tired tourists and a tourist office that is so well hidden it takes you hours to find it even though you're only a half a block away – I wonder why more tourists don't stop here? Well, for a good reason in my opinion.



The only good parts of Estelí were a cheapish handicrafts shop, a half-decent vegetarian juice bar&restaurant Ananda and a cool waterfall 15km from the centre. Our hospedaje Sacuanjoche was cozy and cheap (100c, 3,5€), but that didn't make up for the unfriendly service by a couple that should've retired years ago.

Other accommodation options, like this garage hotel for couples, wasn't still quite what Kacie and I were looking for either. I know, we're such high maintenance.

On Wednesday I said my, not-so-teary goodbyes to Nicaragua by taking a bus to Ocotal (2h, 1€), then another one to Las Manos border crossing (1h, 0,5€), paying up the Nicaragua exit fee, the municipality fee and the Honduras entrance fee (6$ in total) and missing my bus because a machista at the border didn't think I was friendly enough towards his advances and decided to have my bags checked more thoroughly than ever before.

I was planning to spend the night in Tegucigalpa, but after a bus to El paraiso (30min, 0,5€) and another from there to Danlí (1h, 1€) with good one hour waits for both of them, I was ready to give up for the night. Hotel La Esperanza (single for 168lempiras, 9€) with cable tv showing the end of the 24h rescue process of the Chilean miners and a cold beer by the name of Barena was exactly what I needed.

Getting to Tegucigalpa on a direct bus (2h, 58L, 2,5€) was easy, but getting from the terminal in the outskirts of the city to the other ones in Comayagüela, which I had thought would be the most convenient place to stay in knowing that I'd want to continue to the north the next day, was another travelling nightmare with overcrowded buses and tons of bad advice. A big portion of chinese style vegetables with noodles and another Barena helped to ease to pain. I wondered around San Isidro market and found a cheap room at Hotel San Pedro (140L, 6€), sharing it only with a friendly(?) mouse (a mental note: pay more for accommodation!).


My overall view of Nicaragua and Honduras so far is the exact opposite of the most countries I've visited so far: I hate the country for its people. That's a terrible thing to say (and looks even worse in writing), but I'm really fed up with all the harassment and constant lies. I really should've couchsurfed more here and I'm sure I'd feel different. Or just drink more cold beer...

Beaches and pouring rain in Costa Rica

The past two weeks have been just that: travelling from one beach town to another in constant heavy rain.

The best thing about yankee beach resort of Dominical was the wildlife; iguanas and lizards everywhere, in the hostel dorm, in front of the bathrooms, in the kitchen, you name it.


This one wondered around the hostel for about 30 minutes, fell into the trash bin and continued down the stairs after that.

Another new friend sat on my dress for nearly an hour while I was cooking and eating: a huge blue butterfly which I didn't want to bother with my flash.





After having enough of the outrages prices (1,5€ per an hour of internet or a single tomato) I took a bus to another beach village called Manuel Antonio (1900col + 250col; 3€; 2h) with this colourful creature laying on the dashboard of the bus nearly the whole way.





I stayed at Cabinas Piscis (a room for 4000col, 6€) and was planning to visit the National Park the place is known for but the unending rain turned the paths way to muddy for my slippery sandals and being soaked in the jungle alone for the whole day didn't seem too tempting.


So after only one night at this beach place I continued to San José, in the pouring rain of course, and spend a few days there (Hotel Musoc, 5000col; 7€) trying to get my travel plans and other stuff sorted out.

Many of the travellers I had met didn't really recommend going to the capital at all, but I have to admit that for once in my life I preferred a big city to the fishing villages – at least it wasn't as touristy as they were!

I took an unplanned trip back to Panamá for the weekend to visit some more beaches and enjoy of the Panamanian type of rain (quite similar to Costa Rica but nothing like the few drops we get in north every now and then).

Hanging out with people I already knew and whose company I enjoyed was totally worth getting up at 4am, the 12h trip (8900col, 15€) there and back and having to deal with the 'pleasant' border officials at the Costa Rican border again. Don't take international buses if you don't want your stuff searched on both sides of the border.

After some successful cooking, and horrible baking, I said goodbye to Panamá again – this time for good – and started a tiring trip first to San José for one night and then off to Nicaragua the next morning (6h, 8€).

By the time I got to Rivas in Nicaragua I was sweaty, tired and pissed off after dealing with the officials, paying 13$ as fees for just wanting to come to the country to spend my money here and turning away dozens of hagglers trying to sell me everything from official entry forms to hot dogs. Without bumping into a friendly expat, meeting up with some CSers and having a few local beers, my first day in Nicaragua would not have left a pleasant memory behind.

Now, after a long cold shower and well slept night in Hospedaje Lydia (160 cor, 6€), I'm ready for new adventures. Only four weeks left – stick with me!

Bocas, Boquete, Bryan and byebye Panamá

Hello from rainy central America! Hope you're all well and putting on plenty of pounds to survive the winter (or summer if you're reading this in Australia, in South Africa or in some other upside-down part of the world)!

Bocas del Toro was as touristy as can be. Pretty, but completely americanised, and you would've known you were in Panamá if they didn't tell you so. I took a boat to the closest island for a dollar and rented a bike to visit the beaches on the main island (2 us$ per hour). Without the Chilean reggae dudes in my dorm and their concert followed by a nice nightly jam session the day before I left the island I would've have felt at home. Seeing sea stars right under the hostel terrace/quay and hundreds and hundreds of crabs running around the whole island was pretty neat though.

I got off the island on the same boat (4$, 3€) with a middle-aged German man also on his way to Boquete, and fought our way to the bus station without paying the gringo price 1$ for the 50c collective taxi ride. 50 cent would've have made any difference to either one of us but accepting the 50% skin colour tax didn't suit my mood.

After the 4 bus ride (7$, 5€) where the temperature of the bus went from freezing cold - when the ac was on full speed - to hellishly warm - when the windows were open, we got to David and took another humid bus (1,5$, 1€) to Boquete less than 2 hours away. I gave my COOL friend Bryan a call and he came to pick me and my two backpacks up with his motorbike. In the pouring rain of course.

The weather didn't get any better during the next two days when I got to enjoy Boquete and Bryan's COOLness, but I had to good time anyway eating our delicious home made sandwiches and trying local sea food. Seeing Bryan's COOL house project and some pretty landscapes from his bike would've been cooler if it wasn't pouring the whole time, but hey - next time!

Then I was off to Costa Rica: first the same bus to David and then another one from there to the border (2h). After being convinced that the 1$ passport stamp I was asked to purchase at the border was not only a tourist rip-off, or at least not an unofficial one anyway, I managed to leave Panamá. Since it was only midday I figured it wouldn't do any harm if I queued to the only working cash machine to get some local currency instead of getting ripped off by dollar exchangers. That, and then being left behind a big group of Panamanians travelling together without a passport on some sort of joined visa, took about an hour and by the time I got off the bus at Ciudad Neilly bus terminal my last bus to Dominical had already left.

After some more walking in the rain (for a change) with my backpacks I managed to find a cheap, but judging from my later skin reaction, bedbug infested room in the centre (Villa???, 4000 colons, 6€) and after trying unsuccessfully to find a place to call Mexicana and checking out the local food prices I decided to settle for some DIY tomato & cream cheese sandwiches before reading myself to sleep.

In the morning I took a bus to Dominical (4h?, 2000 colons, 3€) and had to ask around quite a bit before finding a cheap bunk bed at Hostel Piramys(3000 colons, 4,5€). The place was VERY basic but would do for one night.

Then it was time to start stressing about my flights. I had called my airline Mexicana several times; first right when I heard about their flight cancellations for over a month ago and then nearly every week like they asked me to to get the exact details on how I was going to get home. Every single time I was ensured that if Mexicana would not fly me home, they'd get me tickets on another airline - there was no need to buy new flights!

So I waited and waited and finally now after trying without success to call the Costa Rican toll free number I was given earlier, struggling to find a place to make international calls in and finally finding a place that sold international call cards to avoid paying 4$ per minute for my call to the Mexicana U.S. call centre, I got the information I didn't want to hear: I was stranded in Latin America without any flights home at all.

Thanks to the hostel wifi, and the comfy bed and the good signal in my new room at Hostel Antorchas (5000 colons, 7€), I spend the next day searching for the cheapest flights home. And finally, with the help of the world nominated online flight deal searcher Andrew (the guy I travelled with in Cartagena and Taganga), I got brilliant tickets: Guatemala-New York-Reykjavik-Helsinki with two days in the Big Apple for 413€! Now I just hope these flights don't get cancelled and that my travel agency STA travel would start replying to my emails and tell me that they'll pay back the money I paid them for the previous flights.

So far I haven't been the least bit impressed by Dominical which is a village full of Americans. Prices are given in US dollars and everything costs the same as in the States (according to Jonathan, a backpacker from Texas - for me, just pricey enough to go on a noodle-soup-diet). Everything is provided by Americans to Americans - I wonder what they did to the locals...? The fact that it rains constantly doesn't make the place more attractive.

p.s. My Finnish sim card doesn't work in Costa Rica or in Nigaragua, but my Swedish number (+46737068412) seems to be receiving texts. Last night I woke up to that familiour beeping sound and got up to see that Lindex was offering me a discount. I had hoped it was from YOU...

p.p.s. did I tell you that Bryan is really COOL? He wanted to make sure that the readers of my blog are aware of that, and I'm only here to serve - "a la orden"! ;P

How to get to Panamá - one way or another

I found a flight from Cartagena to Panama for only 150 US$ so I figured that it would be a better option than taking a 3-4 day boat cruise for 300-400 US$. Now I'm not that sure anymore.

This is how it started:
*bus from Taganga to Santa Marta; 1h; 1200cop
*bus from Santa Marta to Cartagena; 4,5h; 20000cop
*bus from Cartagena bus terminal to the airport; 1,5h; 1500cop
*flight from Cartagena to Bogotá; 2h
*two hours of blog writing at the airport
*flight from Bogotá to Pereira; 1h

I left Taganga at 8am and arrived to Pereira at 9pm. Having had only one arepa, a local egg pasty, on the way I was hungry and tired. There was no tourist information at the airport, I had no idea where I was going to spend the night and had only 30000 cop (13€) left 'cause I was planning to leave the country the next morning.

I had figured I'd take a local bus to the centre only 5km away and walk around to find a cheap hotel there, but at the airport I found out that the buses had already stopped running and there were only taxis left. So I had to use 10000 for the taxi ride, during which the driver told me there was no way of finding anything for less than 20000 in the city: I wouldn't have any money for food or for the bus to the airport the next morning. The taxi driver's idea of a cheap hotel in Pereira would've set me back about 50000 cop.

When I got to the centre, however, there were plenty of cheap places around and I got a clean, private room with my own bathroom for 12000. Next challenge was to find food for the 6000 I had left reserving 2000 for the bus to the airport the next day. I walked around asking people in bars and on the streets and everyone said everything was closed, but my growling stomach wouldn't let me give up.

After four blocks I came to a burger stand with tasty huge burgers with all possible fillings for 3500. The next morning I took the bus to the airport for 1500 which left me the total of 3000 for breakfast: one papita (a fried ball of mash potato and mince) and two empanadas with a 100 discount from the nice lady selling them was more than I needed. Mission accomplished. I thought.

I got to the check-in counter and was told I wasn't allowed on the plain without some sort of an exit ticket from Panama. I had read about before, but didn't think they were really going to require a physical one, and though saying I was going to take a bus and showing my Mexico-London ticket would've been enough. After googling like crazy for a half an hour with airport wifi searching for any sort of escape, perhaps an online bus ticket I could book, I had to return to the check-in helpless.


This time the guys at the counter decided to be really nice to the “blond gringa” and made me an unpaid reservation with their airline for a return ticket which they could print out for me to show to the officials in Panama but which I would neigher have to use nor pay after I got into the country.


Flirting my way out of trouble isn't really me, but I've suffered enough of my sex during this journey and it was about time the latin macho culture gave something back. Value of the gift: 153,10 US$, the price of the cheapest return ticket available. Time spend giving puppy eyed looks to the boys with my pink lip gloss shining: 15 minutes. I feel cheap.

After a very thorough luggage check with x-rays and all, I was finally off to Panamá. When I got to the hostel after 3,5 hours of wondering in the rain with my all too heavy backpack I met a Dutch girl who faced with the same situation I was in earlier this morning panicked and ended up buying a 300€ flight to Costa Rica when the journey with a bus would've cost her 35 US$.

So maybe, and just maybe, it was worth it after all.

Caribbean sun in Cartagena, Santa Marta and Taganga

Arriving to Cartagena centre from the bus terminal took ages in the pouring rain that turned streets into rivers and the bus dropped me off at the opposite side of the city I was heading towards, but for some reason I liked this city from the start. Maybe it was the pretty narrow streets, maybe Erik's raincoat that made me look like Hunchback of Rotterdam, but kept both me and my two backpacks dry.

I headed towards the cheapest Lonely Planet accomodation option, but asked around on the way like I usually do. By the time I got to Hotel Holiday I couldn't be bothered to return to the hostel cheapest dorm bed (13000cop, 6€) though and stayed in dorm for three sharing only with one girl for 15000 cop (6,5€). A cold shower could not have felt any sweeter after carrying my backpack for over an hour in the 70% humidity and nearly 30c heat.

I was soon joined by an american called Andrew just starting his year long around-the-world journey and who ended up keeping me company for my whole time in Cartagena and Taganga. A total bitch, but hey, you got to help the newbies out (ha, ha – I knew you couldn't keep away! ;D)

We had lunch in the town's only(?) vegetarian restaurant, walked around the beautiful streets of the old town and met a monkey in the public park on our way to the hotel. When we told a girl working at a near-by tourist office about the monkey, she said that unfortunately the park was really badly kept, like wild monkeys would be a terrible pest to have around!

When we went back to the same park on the following days we also met two iguanas and about half a dozen other monkeys. Without the prostitutes and thug looking characters strolling around our park in the evenings it might just have been the coolest park ever.

My old Erasmus friend Toby from London had reached Cartagena on his whole continent long electric car race just in time to go for dinner and an overpriced drink with us. Although other, non-touristy and cheaper, options are not easy to find, they do exist even in the old town which me and Andrew went trough pretty much street by street searching for them during our three days there.

The plan was to visit the mud volcano (you read right) El Totumo on Thursday, but after getting wrong information about how to get there, a sweaty bus ride from the wrong market place to the right bus terminal and realising that the little money we took with us being warned off about getting robbed on the way there wasn't going to be enough even for the bus ride there, let alone for the food for the whole day.

So we went back to the city and ended up finding “our private” sandy beach right next to the old town walls before sharing a bottle of rum and making friends with the very few other travellers staying in our hotel.

The slight hangover on Friday morning was cured by another dip on “our beach” which gave energy for a whole day of walking around the city in exhausting heat that made me take about cold five showers per day and still feel like a sweaty pig for about 23 hours each day.

On Saturday it was time to head towards the scuba diving mecca of Taganga supposedly four hour bus ride away from Cartegena. I haggled the bus tickets to Santa Marta down to 20000 cop (8,5€) and was pleased with myself for about three and a half hours when we arrived to Barraquilla, situated only half way to our destination, and were told we'd have to pay 10000cop (4€) more for the rest of the journey. I explained, wanted to contact company's office, then added a few exclamation marks to my expressions, took my backpack starting to walk away and finally told the guy asking us to pay more to fuck off. And all of the sudden we got seats on the bus without paying another peso for it! Don't fuck with a bitchy Finn, I'd say.

When we finally got to Santa Marta nearly three hours later, we missed the bus terminal and had to take a taxi to Taganga (7000cop, 3€) and to the only hotel the driver was familiar with, La Casa de Felipe. After getting a big laugh as a reply to their offer of a double room for 70000cop (30€), they said they might have dorm beds for 20000cop (8,5€). I decided to ask a smaller hotel, Casa de Maria, next door before deciding and we got a nice and completely empty dorm there for 10000cop (4€) each.

The beautiful little village of Taganga was a disappointment because even though it was pretty it could not have been any more touristy: pizza places, hotels, diving schools and bars one after another. Our escape to Santa Marta next day to find cheaper sun screen and bug repellent – both very much needed in these parts – turned into a long boring trip to the bus terminal since the bus driver decided to be an ass and not to let me know when we reached the centre, perhaps because I had only asked him three times on the way.

Back in Taganga the walk from the dirty and overcrowded main beach to the second one didn't make things much better, but offered beautiful views over what one day was a quiet little shore and must have seemed like a paradise to the ones who first set their eyes on it, and that still looked picturesque from a right distance.

After a dip in the warm water we walked back to find an affordable diving course for the next day and to have some super cheap (1000cop, 0,5€) and delicious portions of chicken for dinner.

Yeah, chicken is not really a vegetable even though many here don't consider it meat either. I'm definitely not planning to abandon vegetarianism for good, but I've noticed I can't stand being hungry either. So during the rest of my journey I will eat meat, preferably fish or chicken, when nothing else at least half-decent is available on my budjet range.

My one month try period was a success in a way that I didn't miss meat at any point and don't see it a necessary part of my daily diet in the future, but circumstances seem to bit too tough to continue being as strict as I have been right now.

The reason why I wanted to come to Taganga was to go scuba diving for the first time in my life and on Monday it was time to do the minicourse including two dives in the open water (at Vida Marina 120000cop, 52€). I had always imagined diving in the Caribbean to be something wonderful, peaceful and colourful, but after my first dive, or perhaps more accurately my first attempt to dive, I was ready to give the whole thing a pass. Getting salt water in my eyes, my ears and in my throat wasn't really the idea, but I couldn't get the hang of the right technique for breathing and equalizing my ear pressure and the terrible pain in my ears made me panic under water and start trying to breathe through my nose, which is impossible with the diving mask on. I was dying to dive and see the pretty fishes so I gave it a few tries which all ended up in panic and feeling I was going to die. Good thing tears don't show too much when you're in the sea.

After a lunch break on the beach I decided to give it one more try, this time entering the water from the beach instead jumping right into the depths. The wonderfully professional and nice diving master held my hand the whole way and guided me little by little to only 5 metres' depth – and I learned to equalize the ear pressure and didn't panic! We followed a small coral reef and were surrounded by beautiful fishes and amazing plants in all the colours of the rainbow, and I was happy scuba diving didn't leave a bad taste in my mouth after all.

I was too busy to take pics with our underwater camera, but see here to see what it looked like.

Will I try it again? Maybe if someone else is paying...