Good times
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:Budapest
Monday, April 11, 2011
Raging
Everyone from Carpe Noctem having an awesome fucking night!
Good times
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Good times
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Weekend Recap
Let me preface by saying that this weekend has done nothing but enhanced my unhealthy and borderline psychotic emotional attachment I have with this city. Budapest is an amazing place, and I happily would recommend a visit here to anyone.
Luckily, I did not suffer a case of Jet Lag. I arrived at my hostel, Carpe Noctem (can't say enough good things about them) to discover my two extremely hungover german pals Flo and Dom just awakening from their slumbers. We grabbed a quick lunch and headed over to the Turkish Baths for a relaxing afternoon. (pictures are Dom struggling and Oktogon facing Hero's Square)
My old roomate from my Corvinus days Corey arrived around 630pm; we gathered him and the four of us headed over to one of our old stomping grounds, Trofea Bar and Grill. Trofea is basically what we would call a buffet, just with Much nicer food. However, Trofea takes the buffet concept to a whole new level...in addition to all you can eat food, there is all you can Drink beer, wine, and champage.
Holla.
After dominating the restaurant, we hopped in a cab to Godor Club for some more drinks with the rest of the hostel, however my night ended somewhat early because of a whiteshoegettingstuckinmud incident :(. Sadzees.
Saturday morning was a blur. Corey was pleased he found his way back to the hostel. Flo and Dom had disappeared sometime during the night but were back as well. (The picture is of Oktober 6 Utca; Claire, Hannah, and Erica's old street)
Lunch at my favorite ramen and dumpling restaurant, some sightseeing with the guys and our new pal Sabrina, and a trip up to the Buda Hills rounded out the afternoon.
Sometimes in life, I wish I was required to wear tracking mechanisms and to be followed by cameras to document how nights like how Saturday night unfolded. The hostel organized an EPIC pub crawl, 5 bars in all, four of them being some of my favorite from my time here. Well, smart person that I am, decided a liter of Vodka was a proper pregame for this crawl. Woops. I disappeared after the second bar. I'd love to tell you the details of my 2-3 hour expedition through the city that night, but some is not at all appropriate nor do I remember all of it. I was found face down on the hostels common room floor and woke up at 7am in THE WRONG BED.
I get a kick out of myself sometimes. But it was nice to let loose and realize that I still remembered how to party with the best of them.
After some more sightseeing on Sunday, I said goodbye to the German guys and Corey, and was talked into taking a ride on the Jager Train. The picture speaks for itself.
The Jager Train was at Carpe Noctem's sister hostel Grandio Party Hostel. Underneath the courtyard was a Cave Bar, and it was open mic night. Sabrina, our new Aussie, Canadien, and English friends, and myself were at first somewhat skeptical about how much fun a Sunday night would be, but those hesitations were quickly extinguished.
Without a doubt one of the funnest nights I've ever had. Open Mic turned into "lets pick four random people from the audience and have them play incredible music", beat boxing, Hungarian folk/pop/techno with fiddle/violin, and some pulsating techno to cap off the night.
6 am on Monday morning, instead of waking up for a work week which I have become oh so familiar with, became everyones bedtime and a great cap to the weekend!
---------------------------------------------
Currently, I am sitting on a bus on my way to Vienna. I have never been, but truthfully I had such an amazing weekend and it brought back a lot of good memories, I could care less about Vienna right now. I did everything I could to figure out a way to stay, but from a logistical standpoint I just couldn't get it to work out.
Too any of you from Carpe Noctem, host or guest, if you happen to come across this, you guys were awesome and I couldn't have asked for a better weekend. My new home away from home in Budapest.
Thankfully, the hostess on my bus right now is unefffingbelievably gorgeous, so I am just going to stare at her until my arrival in Vienna to lift my spirits.
Luckily, I did not suffer a case of Jet Lag. I arrived at my hostel, Carpe Noctem (can't say enough good things about them) to discover my two extremely hungover german pals Flo and Dom just awakening from their slumbers. We grabbed a quick lunch and headed over to the Turkish Baths for a relaxing afternoon. (pictures are Dom struggling and Oktogon facing Hero's Square)
My old roomate from my Corvinus days Corey arrived around 630pm; we gathered him and the four of us headed over to one of our old stomping grounds, Trofea Bar and Grill. Trofea is basically what we would call a buffet, just with Much nicer food. However, Trofea takes the buffet concept to a whole new level...in addition to all you can eat food, there is all you can Drink beer, wine, and champage.
Holla.
After dominating the restaurant, we hopped in a cab to Godor Club for some more drinks with the rest of the hostel, however my night ended somewhat early because of a whiteshoegettingstuckinmud incident :(. Sadzees.
Saturday morning was a blur. Corey was pleased he found his way back to the hostel. Flo and Dom had disappeared sometime during the night but were back as well. (The picture is of Oktober 6 Utca; Claire, Hannah, and Erica's old street)
Lunch at my favorite ramen and dumpling restaurant, some sightseeing with the guys and our new pal Sabrina, and a trip up to the Buda Hills rounded out the afternoon.
Sometimes in life, I wish I was required to wear tracking mechanisms and to be followed by cameras to document how nights like how Saturday night unfolded. The hostel organized an EPIC pub crawl, 5 bars in all, four of them being some of my favorite from my time here. Well, smart person that I am, decided a liter of Vodka was a proper pregame for this crawl. Woops. I disappeared after the second bar. I'd love to tell you the details of my 2-3 hour expedition through the city that night, but some is not at all appropriate nor do I remember all of it. I was found face down on the hostels common room floor and woke up at 7am in THE WRONG BED.
I get a kick out of myself sometimes. But it was nice to let loose and realize that I still remembered how to party with the best of them.
After some more sightseeing on Sunday, I said goodbye to the German guys and Corey, and was talked into taking a ride on the Jager Train. The picture speaks for itself.
The Jager Train was at Carpe Noctem's sister hostel Grandio Party Hostel. Underneath the courtyard was a Cave Bar, and it was open mic night. Sabrina, our new Aussie, Canadien, and English friends, and myself were at first somewhat skeptical about how much fun a Sunday night would be, but those hesitations were quickly extinguished.
Without a doubt one of the funnest nights I've ever had. Open Mic turned into "lets pick four random people from the audience and have them play incredible music", beat boxing, Hungarian folk/pop/techno with fiddle/violin, and some pulsating techno to cap off the night.
6 am on Monday morning, instead of waking up for a work week which I have become oh so familiar with, became everyones bedtime and a great cap to the weekend!
---------------------------------------------
Currently, I am sitting on a bus on my way to Vienna. I have never been, but truthfully I had such an amazing weekend and it brought back a lot of good memories, I could care less about Vienna right now. I did everything I could to figure out a way to stay, but from a logistical standpoint I just couldn't get it to work out.
Too any of you from Carpe Noctem, host or guest, if you happen to come across this, you guys were awesome and I couldn't have asked for a better weekend. My new home away from home in Budapest.
Thankfully, the hostess on my bus right now is unefffingbelievably gorgeous, so I am just going to stare at her until my arrival in Vienna to lift my spirits.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Frankfurt Airport Sucks
Highlights:
Met a former spy for the CIA at at the bar named Michael who could speak 6 languages.
Delayed departure, and for once it wasnt Philly Intl's fault.
Gay canadian flight attendant hit on me, admired my shoes, very interested in where I was going, what I was doing, and who I was visiting. He also gave me free alcohol. A secondhand compliment? I think so!
Arrived in Toronto with a half hour to spare, breezed through customs as I was hearing my name being called over the intercom for final boarding, sprinted to my plane only to find it smelled like child poo. Sigh.
Watched The Tourist on in-flight on demand. I figured out the twist 15 minutes into the movie.
And of course, Frankfurt airport still sucks. If I wanted to walk five miles from one terminal to the other, well...I don't know what I would have done! But dammit, that is the last thing I want to do after an overnight flight without much sleep!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Met a former spy for the CIA at at the bar named Michael who could speak 6 languages.
Delayed departure, and for once it wasnt Philly Intl's fault.
Gay canadian flight attendant hit on me, admired my shoes, very interested in where I was going, what I was doing, and who I was visiting. He also gave me free alcohol. A secondhand compliment? I think so!
Arrived in Toronto with a half hour to spare, breezed through customs as I was hearing my name being called over the intercom for final boarding, sprinted to my plane only to find it smelled like child poo. Sigh.
Watched The Tourist on in-flight on demand. I figured out the twist 15 minutes into the movie.
And of course, Frankfurt airport still sucks. If I wanted to walk five miles from one terminal to the other, well...I don't know what I would have done! But dammit, that is the last thing I want to do after an overnight flight without much sleep!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Another year, another adventure..
2011 has brought with it more responsibilities than I can ever remember having. Full-time job, student loans, car payments, my dog...everything short of paying rent (however close that may be on the horizon).
Yet somehow, I've managed to find the time and money for an 11 day excursion back to Europe, trekking through Hungary, Austria, Slovenia, and Italy, meeting up with old friends here, there...hell, everywhere.
My route ill be taking, from right to left...
Budapest, Vienna, Ljubljana, Lake Bled and the Julian Alps in Slovenia, Florence, Pisa, the Cinque Terre on Italy's coast, and finishing in Milan. I'm expecting a good time, and many, many late nights.
Wondering how I am fitting all of that into 11 days? Yea, me too...
Here's hoping I can re-discover my blogging legs.
-E
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Spring Break in Panama
This semester, I am enrolled in a Travel Narrative writing class, and one of our assignments was to write a "letter home" about a recent travel experience we had. I chose to write it on my trip to Central America, and here is the outcome. Hope you like it!
Dear Mom & Dad:
It's always bothered me when people that do absolutely nothing display a sense of entitlement. Like a few days ago, when I strolled out of the airport with Max, Paul, and my new friend Chet to catch a cab to Casco Viejo, and some seemingly kind gentleman took my duffel bag and placed it in the back seat of the taxi, a mere two feet away. Any normal individual would assume this man was the cab driver just going about his business and doing his job, but once I took my seat in the back of the Hyundai, this same man reopened the car door and said, "you have anything for me?" Staring at him blankly, it dawned on me after a few seconds that this man was in fact NOT my taxi driver, but some low-life hustler who manages to post-up outside the airport arrivals hoping to poach on visiting tourists who do not know any better then to throw this man a few bucks. After repeating it four or five times, as I stared, dumbfounded, he became increasingly frustrated and began saying, "five dollar move bags to taxi." I told him he was full of shit and to eff off, threw him fifty cents to make him shut up, and said in my oh-so-nifty Spanish to the driver, "Andele, Andele!" Oh, by the way, I'm in Panama. No, not Panama City, Florida; Panama Central America Panama! You know, where drug traffickers begin their journeys north, and where only twenty years ago was a country that we (the USA) invaded.
Are you nervous yet?
Well, don't be. When I was in Panama City, the bustling, sprawling, cosmopolitan capital, I never once felt unsafe or uncomfortable, and actually felt like I was still in somewhere in the United States. Well, not just somewhere, but Miami, actually. There were American made cars, people speaking excellent English but with that familiar Latin overtone, the towering skyscrapers and condominiums alongside the beaches and water...I honestly felt like my plane did a full 360 and landed back at Miami International and I mistakenly ended up somewhere in Miami Beach. Since I've been here, I have come across or interacted with at least six different ethnic groups, including Chinese, European, the ethnic Kuna, Blacks, and Mulatto's, as well as tourists from all around the world. It is, in essence, a true melting pot, albeit on a much smaller scale than the United States. This got me thinking. Why, in this tiny isthmus connecting North and South America, would all of these cultures converge and live together in harmony? Using logic, reasoning, and some "extensive" research I did pre-departure (aka Google and Wikipedia!), my answer was clear. The Panama Canal, the awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping feat of American foreign influence. One of the busiest shipping lanes in world; one that ships from Asia, Africa, and Europe traverse on a daily basis, and surely over the years have deposited their share of stragglers here in the country. Standing up on that lookout, we watched boats from South Korea, Russia, and England make the trek through the different locks, each one lowered a few feet at a time as the gates swung open and closed behind them, all working in sync to propel the ships out to open water. With a backdrop of green hills covered with jungle and lush vegetation, either coast not far from you wherever you are in this country, and an abundance of turquoise waters and exotic wildlife, its no wonder so many people have decided to call this place home. You don't have to worry about me never coming back, as I doubt I could live here, it is just too bloody hot! Its only the beginning of March for Christ's sake and the heat index has got to be over 105!
This diversity was never more evident then when we ate our first meal at the local blue-collar, buffet-style cafeteria serving up full plates of food for a mere $2.75. Dad, you and I were meant for these kinds of places. Anyway, standing there, looking at the various choices, were items of food that I would NEVER have imagined to see served in the same place. In one corner, jerk chicken, in another, chow-mein noodles, another, fresh ceviche, and in another, red beans and rice; the Caribbean/West African, Asian, Spanish/European, and Native influences all on display in that tiny little hole in the wall food joint.
As we motored west across the country, I noticed the trend continued. Yesterday morning, we took a bus from Panama City to a little town in the hills called Boquete. Boquete is one of the top European retirement destinations in Central America, and for good reason. Nestled in a valley with mountains and volcanoes on either side, the pacific coast a mere half hour drive away, and enjoying a much cooler climate then the rest of the country, this little town was filled to the brim with white folk. The hostel we stayed at was run by two English men. Walking along the main strip we happened upon French, Spanish, and German restaurants, as well as those cafeterias with just as diverse a spread as the ones back in the city. Riding through the hills on scooters we even happened upon a few pizza shops run by Italians! Now, its not so surprising to see such varying cultures in a large city, but in a small mountain town with a population that couldn't have been more than 20,000; I believe that native Panamanians, and even ethnic Hispanics were outnumbered by these European transplants. The ride through some of the hills surrounding the town helped me understand why this was, as we passed waterfalls, rapids, beautiful open plains, and rocky cliffs that seemed to jut out of the blue! Some of the views, even if I were to describe them here, would not be done justice no matter how many adjectives I used. I hate to use the cliche, but you really have to be here to truly understand the feeling of bliss the envelops you as you stare out onto the horizon. It is no wonder so many people retire here.
Right now, its four o'clock in the morning and I am sitting somewhere between 7,500 and 8,000 feet above sea level on the side of the Volcan Baru, the tallest mountain in Panama, which happens to double as an active volcano. One of the main goals of our trip (my idea, Max and Paul agreed) was to make our way to the top of this monstrosity, which I will call The Hike, because once at the top, it is the ONLY place in the world where you are able to see BOTH the Atlantic and Pacific oceans at the same time! I went out and bought a brand new Nikon COOLPIX L110 camera before I left for this exact reason (more reasons to worry about my spending habits). We set out on our adventure around midnight after we had met up with three others who were staying at our Hostel that were also looking to scale the Volcan. Jason, a medium-built adventure rat who has been trekking through Central America for the past few months and his friend Lisa, a who has been living in the island town of Bocas Del Toro, our destination tomorrow morning, volunteering at a hostel in return for free Spanish lessons and a place to sleep, were the first to join us for The Hike. Right as we were about to set off in our cab to the national park entrance, Anthony, a British scientist from London who is on assignment in Panama to research shark behaviors for a marine biology firm, hustled out of his room, and our party was complete. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, but I sat mesmerized in the bed of the pickup staring up at the sky, as the millions of stars above me glistened in the black of the night. I honestly could not remember ever seeing a sky that clear with so many stars seeming so close that it felt like I could just reach out and pluck each one of them from the dark canvas. Wow, that was deep wasn't it?
The Hike started out well. And by well I mean awful. I did not do NEARLY enough stretching, and had neglected any sort of training in preparation for The Hike despite constantly reminding myself that it mighttt be beneficial to do so. Laziness to the extreme! My muscles tightened up almost immediately, but after about twenty minutes the pain had subsided and I was loose and ready to rock! Speaking of rocks, I hate rocks. We were told that The Hike would be a good one for beginners, yet the pitch black that we so aptly counteracted with a single flashlight, in addition to the bevy of large, odd-shaped rocks that littered the trail made for one hell of a time attempting to find solid ground to plant your feet on. Throughout The Hike, it dawned on me how people who have just met can share such intimate and personal stories about themselves when they feel so confined from the rest of civilization, because really, on the side of that mountain its your group of hikers and no one else. The seclusion everyone must feel, that I feel, of being separated from reality almost, is unreal. Sexual encounters, politics, travel stories, inside jokes...we touched on all these things and more, as if we were all destined to become best friends because who knew if we'd make it up and back down alive. Long story short, Lisa and I have decided to stop and turn around without reaching the top. About an hour ago, the group separated into two, with the four boys going on ahead at a quicker pace and Lisa and I hanging back climbing at a pace more suitable for us But here, somewhere up in the clouds, my body kept telling me it was not possible to climb any further. My legs feel like jelly. I'm disappointed, yea, but even if I was to make it to the top, I doubt I'd have any energy for The Hike back down. Lisa and I have decided to camp out on a little grassy outcrop we came across and hang out for two hours and wait for the sunrise, recover some of our energy, and then head back down with the aid of a little sunlight. I do hope to come back here someday and try The Hike again; I don't think I will be able to live with myself knowing I've left something unaccomplished.
So, Panama. You may be wondering that of all the places that I could have ventured off too, why did I pick here? I honestly don't know...I imagine it was a combination of things: cheap flights, inexpensive food and accommodation, warm weather, and tequila. Was I interested in Panama's rich and diverse culture and history, or the need for another adventure after spending four months gallivanting through Europe? Yea, sure, I do my nerdy research on Wikipedia, Lonely Planet, and Frommers so I am prepared for what to expect before I arrive, but I do that before I go anywhere really, even four miles up the road to a new restaurant. What was I really after? My best guess was that I just needed to GO somewhere! My thirst for travel and adventure had me nearly dehydrated back in the states, and could only be quenched by plane rides, by the reinvigorating feeling of backpacking and crashing at hostels, and by the exhilaration I experience from interacting and connecting with new cultures.
From here, we go to Bocas Del Toro for some R&R at the beach, before heading back to the capital to fly out. My flight gets into Miami Friday night with a connection back to Tampa getting in around Midnight. I'll be sure to call you and let you know when I am home safe and sound.
All of my love,
Eric
Dear Mom & Dad:
It's always bothered me when people that do absolutely nothing display a sense of entitlement. Like a few days ago, when I strolled out of the airport with Max, Paul, and my new friend Chet to catch a cab to Casco Viejo, and some seemingly kind gentleman took my duffel bag and placed it in the back seat of the taxi, a mere two feet away. Any normal individual would assume this man was the cab driver just going about his business and doing his job, but once I took my seat in the back of the Hyundai, this same man reopened the car door and said, "you have anything for me?" Staring at him blankly, it dawned on me after a few seconds that this man was in fact NOT my taxi driver, but some low-life hustler who manages to post-up outside the airport arrivals hoping to poach on visiting tourists who do not know any better then to throw this man a few bucks. After repeating it four or five times, as I stared, dumbfounded, he became increasingly frustrated and began saying, "five dollar move bags to taxi." I told him he was full of shit and to eff off, threw him fifty cents to make him shut up, and said in my oh-so-nifty Spanish to the driver, "Andele, Andele!" Oh, by the way, I'm in Panama. No, not Panama City, Florida; Panama Central America Panama! You know, where drug traffickers begin their journeys north, and where only twenty years ago was a country that we (the USA) invaded.
Are you nervous yet?
Well, don't be. When I was in Panama City, the bustling, sprawling, cosmopolitan capital, I never once felt unsafe or uncomfortable, and actually felt like I was still in somewhere in the United States. Well, not just somewhere, but Miami, actually. There were American made cars, people speaking excellent English but with that familiar Latin overtone, the towering skyscrapers and condominiums alongside the beaches and water...I honestly felt like my plane did a full 360 and landed back at Miami International and I mistakenly ended up somewhere in Miami Beach. Since I've been here, I have come across or interacted with at least six different ethnic groups, including Chinese, European, the ethnic Kuna, Blacks, and Mulatto's, as well as tourists from all around the world. It is, in essence, a true melting pot, albeit on a much smaller scale than the United States. This got me thinking. Why, in this tiny isthmus connecting North and South America, would all of these cultures converge and live together in harmony? Using logic, reasoning, and some "extensive" research I did pre-departure (aka Google and Wikipedia!), my answer was clear. The Panama Canal, the awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping feat of American foreign influence. One of the busiest shipping lanes in world; one that ships from Asia, Africa, and Europe traverse on a daily basis, and surely over the years have deposited their share of stragglers here in the country. Standing up on that lookout, we watched boats from South Korea, Russia, and England make the trek through the different locks, each one lowered a few feet at a time as the gates swung open and closed behind them, all working in sync to propel the ships out to open water. With a backdrop of green hills covered with jungle and lush vegetation, either coast not far from you wherever you are in this country, and an abundance of turquoise waters and exotic wildlife, its no wonder so many people have decided to call this place home. You don't have to worry about me never coming back, as I doubt I could live here, it is just too bloody hot! Its only the beginning of March for Christ's sake and the heat index has got to be over 105!
This diversity was never more evident then when we ate our first meal at the local blue-collar, buffet-style cafeteria serving up full plates of food for a mere $2.75. Dad, you and I were meant for these kinds of places. Anyway, standing there, looking at the various choices, were items of food that I would NEVER have imagined to see served in the same place. In one corner, jerk chicken, in another, chow-mein noodles, another, fresh ceviche, and in another, red beans and rice; the Caribbean/West African, Asian, Spanish/European, and Native influences all on display in that tiny little hole in the wall food joint.
As we motored west across the country, I noticed the trend continued. Yesterday morning, we took a bus from Panama City to a little town in the hills called Boquete. Boquete is one of the top European retirement destinations in Central America, and for good reason. Nestled in a valley with mountains and volcanoes on either side, the pacific coast a mere half hour drive away, and enjoying a much cooler climate then the rest of the country, this little town was filled to the brim with white folk. The hostel we stayed at was run by two English men. Walking along the main strip we happened upon French, Spanish, and German restaurants, as well as those cafeterias with just as diverse a spread as the ones back in the city. Riding through the hills on scooters we even happened upon a few pizza shops run by Italians! Now, its not so surprising to see such varying cultures in a large city, but in a small mountain town with a population that couldn't have been more than 20,000; I believe that native Panamanians, and even ethnic Hispanics were outnumbered by these European transplants. The ride through some of the hills surrounding the town helped me understand why this was, as we passed waterfalls, rapids, beautiful open plains, and rocky cliffs that seemed to jut out of the blue! Some of the views, even if I were to describe them here, would not be done justice no matter how many adjectives I used. I hate to use the cliche, but you really have to be here to truly understand the feeling of bliss the envelops you as you stare out onto the horizon. It is no wonder so many people retire here.
Right now, its four o'clock in the morning and I am sitting somewhere between 7,500 and 8,000 feet above sea level on the side of the Volcan Baru, the tallest mountain in Panama, which happens to double as an active volcano. One of the main goals of our trip (my idea, Max and Paul agreed) was to make our way to the top of this monstrosity, which I will call The Hike, because once at the top, it is the ONLY place in the world where you are able to see BOTH the Atlantic and Pacific oceans at the same time! I went out and bought a brand new Nikon COOLPIX L110 camera before I left for this exact reason (more reasons to worry about my spending habits). We set out on our adventure around midnight after we had met up with three others who were staying at our Hostel that were also looking to scale the Volcan. Jason, a medium-built adventure rat who has been trekking through Central America for the past few months and his friend Lisa, a who has been living in the island town of Bocas Del Toro, our destination tomorrow morning, volunteering at a hostel in return for free Spanish lessons and a place to sleep, were the first to join us for The Hike. Right as we were about to set off in our cab to the national park entrance, Anthony, a British scientist from London who is on assignment in Panama to research shark behaviors for a marine biology firm, hustled out of his room, and our party was complete. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, but I sat mesmerized in the bed of the pickup staring up at the sky, as the millions of stars above me glistened in the black of the night. I honestly could not remember ever seeing a sky that clear with so many stars seeming so close that it felt like I could just reach out and pluck each one of them from the dark canvas. Wow, that was deep wasn't it?
The Hike started out well. And by well I mean awful. I did not do NEARLY enough stretching, and had neglected any sort of training in preparation for The Hike despite constantly reminding myself that it mighttt be beneficial to do so. Laziness to the extreme! My muscles tightened up almost immediately, but after about twenty minutes the pain had subsided and I was loose and ready to rock! Speaking of rocks, I hate rocks. We were told that The Hike would be a good one for beginners, yet the pitch black that we so aptly counteracted with a single flashlight, in addition to the bevy of large, odd-shaped rocks that littered the trail made for one hell of a time attempting to find solid ground to plant your feet on. Throughout The Hike, it dawned on me how people who have just met can share such intimate and personal stories about themselves when they feel so confined from the rest of civilization, because really, on the side of that mountain its your group of hikers and no one else. The seclusion everyone must feel, that I feel, of being separated from reality almost, is unreal. Sexual encounters, politics, travel stories, inside jokes...we touched on all these things and more, as if we were all destined to become best friends because who knew if we'd make it up and back down alive. Long story short, Lisa and I have decided to stop and turn around without reaching the top. About an hour ago, the group separated into two, with the four boys going on ahead at a quicker pace and Lisa and I hanging back climbing at a pace more suitable for us But here, somewhere up in the clouds, my body kept telling me it was not possible to climb any further. My legs feel like jelly. I'm disappointed, yea, but even if I was to make it to the top, I doubt I'd have any energy for The Hike back down. Lisa and I have decided to camp out on a little grassy outcrop we came across and hang out for two hours and wait for the sunrise, recover some of our energy, and then head back down with the aid of a little sunlight. I do hope to come back here someday and try The Hike again; I don't think I will be able to live with myself knowing I've left something unaccomplished.
So, Panama. You may be wondering that of all the places that I could have ventured off too, why did I pick here? I honestly don't know...I imagine it was a combination of things: cheap flights, inexpensive food and accommodation, warm weather, and tequila. Was I interested in Panama's rich and diverse culture and history, or the need for another adventure after spending four months gallivanting through Europe? Yea, sure, I do my nerdy research on Wikipedia, Lonely Planet, and Frommers so I am prepared for what to expect before I arrive, but I do that before I go anywhere really, even four miles up the road to a new restaurant. What was I really after? My best guess was that I just needed to GO somewhere! My thirst for travel and adventure had me nearly dehydrated back in the states, and could only be quenched by plane rides, by the reinvigorating feeling of backpacking and crashing at hostels, and by the exhilaration I experience from interacting and connecting with new cultures.
From here, we go to Bocas Del Toro for some R&R at the beach, before heading back to the capital to fly out. My flight gets into Miami Friday night with a connection back to Tampa getting in around Midnight. I'll be sure to call you and let you know when I am home safe and sound.
All of my love,
Eric
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Spring Break Plans
I was thinking about heading back to Europe but it would just be too gosh darn expensive. So, further fueling my desire to travel to new and exciting places, I've settled on an 8 day adventure to Panama. My plans include exploring the cosmopolitan metropolis that is the capital, Panama City, with a trip to see the infamous Panama Canal, as well as visits to the western side of the country including the highlands of Chiriqui, where I plan to hike up the Volcan Baru, the only place in the world where you can see both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans at the same time. Also included will be a trip to the Boca del Toros archipelago for some fun in the sun on the beach.
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