Working

We have a new principal at school and now it's nothing but work, work, work all the time. So, I can't spend my days blogging anymore. Fortunately not much is going on here. The city is full of arroyos. Brad and I downloaded The Wire on itunes and we're hooked. We bought icetrays and our lives have imporved at least 3% because of that. That's really all there is.

back

car horns, donkey carts, arroyos, geckos, humidity, long lines, maids, fruit juice, empanadas, tiny fridge, tile floors, bootleg dvds, cold showers, telenovelas, fake boobs, tight pants, taxi drivers, motorcycles, loud music, sancocho...yep we're back in Barranquilla.

Tikal

and now and ode to my hiking boot

Oh, hiking boot I will miss you so, but I will always have the memories of the times we've shared together.

The town in Northern Spain where I left my luggage on the bus and was stalked by a creepy old pervert.

Through the Pyrenees and up the mountain in Switzerland where a lady served soup at the top. I was the only flatlander in the group and was seriously winded, but we made it didn't we?

And then grad school, where you patiently waited in the closet.

Two years later we made it up all 12,000 feet of Volcan Santa Maria. The next day my knees and hips ached, but my ankles were fine. Thank you hiking boot.

And I'll never forget our final journey together, Pacaya and its flowing lava. I was worried you would melt, but I should never have doubted your sturdiness. Even as I stood on molten hot ground to roast marshmallows, you kept me protected.

I was going to take you on the Inca Trail, but now you're in the hands of some idiot stranger who probably has stinky feet.

thieves

On the looooooooooooong bus ride from Placencia to the Guatemalan border someone went through our bags and stole:
my green bikini bottoms, left the top
Brad's deodorant
an electric razor
one of my hiking boots, one hiking boot!

So now I have this to say:
Dear thief,
I am hoping you are a person with one leg and a just a butt, because that's the only way your thieving would make any sense. But I didn't see anyone with one leg and just a butt get on the bus, so I know, know! that you are the rottenest, stupidest person on Earth.
Signed,
Sarah

Belize

The boat ride from Guatemala to Punta Gorda, Belize was only about 45 minutes. From there we took a two and a half hour bus ride to Placencia, a southern caye with great beaches. It took us only about 5 minutes to walk to our "hotel" a set of six cabins on the beach. The guy working said the cabins were 60 dollars a night, 55 if we stayed for 2 nights. "And what if we stay for 5 nights?"
"45."
"Deal."
We ended up staying 7.
The first thing we did was walk to a grocery store to stock up on the essentials: beer, rum, chips and salsa. We had a fridge and a coffee maker in our room, which really came in handy.
Belize is s cool place. Pretty relaxed. We didn't do much there besides drink our rum and read books underneath the palm trees. We swam a lot too, but got scared after we both got stung by jellyfish.
One day some tree trimmers came by and cut down all the old branches. One wouldn't come down so Brad and I spent a few hours swinging on it. Another day we took all of our empty beer bottles and constructed a pyramid.
Almost every day for lunch we walked to town and either went to Gloria's for her delicious bbq chicken or had chicken burritos from a street vendor. For dinner we toddled over to the Barefoot Bar, about twenty steps away, which made it even easier to toddle home.
One afternoon we went on a walk and I noticed a sign announcing fresh cinnamon rolls baked every day 7 to 7. The next morning I got up early and wandered over. As I stood outside the locked building that I thought might be the bakery I asked the two guys loitering outside if I was in the right place:
"Is this John's Bakery?"
"You wanna buy?"
"Uh huh."
"Hey John," he hollers, "somebody wanna buy."
So John comes trudging down all disgrutled and opens up his bakery. As soon as he's in he hands me a bag a sliced white bread.
"Um, aren't there any cinnamon rolls?"
"Nope."
"Okay. I'll just come back later then."
"Not till Tuesday."
It was Sunday.
But we fully embraced the relaxed attitude of the locals and had a nice vacation from vacation. It was too terrible to leave. The real world was a shock. More on that later....

Bunch of backpackers on the boat
You're welcome

Belikin beer

Our cozy cabin. I kept telling Brad I felt like I was at summer camp

We each read three books, so our minds didn't totally go to waste

About ten steps from the water

amen

Not till Tuesday

delicious

At the Barefoot Bar

from my cousin

Sarah, Wales, is NOT spelled with an H.
Something you should know about me, I'm a terrible pseller.