Utila: Not Exactly Central America

I deboarded the Utila Dream ferry and I immediately felt a culture shock when I arrived on the island. Not the type of shock stemming from merely being an American visiting an island that is part of a Central American country, but the shock that this island is supposedly part of a Central American country. My immediate thought: "There's a lot of white folk running around here..."

To be clear, Utila is one of those dive mecca locations to which members of the ever growing diving community flock for inexpensive boat trips and advanced diving courses. With beautiful reefs surrounding the relatively small island, it is also located on a migratory path of Whale Sharks thus solidifying it's place as a possible recurring column in Sport Diver's magazine (I'm assuming they have recurring columns. I wouldn't know as I usually delete their weekly emails). If you desire to plan a trip to the island, I'm sure you'll find accommodations and dive boats available at any one of the 13 dive shops, and the going rate for two dives while I was there was a mere $35.

As a PADI Open Water Diver I am on the lowest rung of the diver certification totem pole.  Before arriving in Utila, my last dive had been over ten years ago in California, my hiatus stemming from a mix of terrible sinus issues and the usual high costs of this hobby - my Midwest mindset prioritized student loans before dive trips for the better part of the last decade. However, by the time I would leave Utila I would have another six dives under my belt (still paltry numbers in the diving community, but I was satisfied).

Although I am appreciative of my renewed interest in diving, my intention of coming to the island had nothing to do with breathing compressed gases under water. My decision was driven by a desire to continue a writing project I had started earlier in the year while I was working a temporary job near the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. Utila was rumored to have cheap accommodations, cheaper than the mainland of Honduras, and those rumors turned out to be true. I was able to procure a one bedroom apartment from a wonderful woman named Vanessa for $300 a month. Although nothing spectacular, it did sport a view of an ocean inlet from the two bedroom windows, and the small front porch steps were where I would find a local dog waiting for me almost every morning.

While on Utila I developed a good routine of writing, diving, snorkeling, exploring, eating, volunteering with a food program, and, perhaps the most rewarding part of my routine, helping out at a school library three days a week. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were my time to maneuver around a small one room library with a lot of children, reading with some, doing puzzles with others, and just spending time encouraging them to use their minds in a positive way. A big thanks to Jeannie, Hannah, and Alison for allowing me to help and to further practice my princess reading voice. However, the consistency of my voice for Blanca Nieves (Snow White) varied drastically and will require some attention for future readings.

For an island that can be walked from one side to the other in about an hour, it surprisingly has a lot of opportunities to have a diverse travel experience. Whether it was spending time swimming in freshwater caves, checking out one of the many educational centers, or a hike up Pumpkin Hill - a dormant volcano and the highest point on the island - which also happens to be the namesake of Vanessa's cat and coincidentally her WiFi password (however I won't give you the exact word play she uses) - there are plenty of activities to keep a traveler busy out of the ocean too. 

I should probably let you in another bit of information that further makes my subjective experience on the island possibly qualify as an outlier - I'm sober.  For personal and health reasons I had my last alcoholic beverage prior to the start of the new year and, with a handful of exceptions, I have not regretted the decision to hop back on the wagon.  That being said, outside of diving the other most advertised reason to visit the island is the partying.  Drink specials and shot challenges are abundant along the main road that is usually filled with pedestrians, golf carts, and ATVs.  Don't worry though, you're sure to get a "free" t-shirt after you spent $20 USD for four shots of liquor that only cost the bar about $2.

Although it may seem I'm presenting a judgmental tone towards the visitors who flock to this small rock in the Caribbean solely for the purpose of diving and drinking, I am merely hoping to highlight some of the other activities for which this island has to offer. In fact, one of those shot challenges I mentioned takes place at a healthy fruit bar operated by two expat Canadian women. Right before I left, a few artists opened a small art gallery for the sole purpose of promoting art education to local elementary students and Utila made products (Instead of the other "souvenirs" one might expect to find at another shop, like a key chain with your name on it or a shirt that has an outline of the island with the word "Native" embedded within it's borders).

Every travel adventure begins with managing your expectations and your intentions.  So if what you wanted was a week of diving and drinking then by all means enjoy every drink challenge on the island and have a blast, but also don't be as arrogant to say "You don't drink? Then why did you come here?" A phrase I heard on more than a few occasions.

The most surprising aspect of my time spent on the island was the expediency with which I finished my writing project, a manuscript for a non fiction novel about my experience hiking the Appalachian Trail.  It turns out that when you set aside 4-5 hours each day to write you can actually get a lot done. In my past life this would have been the perfect time for a celebratory beer, but I thoroughly enjoyed a mango smoothie instead (however, there is still a steep learning curve ahead in order to get this edited and published). The completion of this part of the project was met with both extreme self satisfaction but also a bit of confusion. I thought this would keep me busy until the end of my travel visa, in fact, I thought finishing an initial draft was not even in the realm of possibility before my friend's wedding in July, but now here I was with the most drastic of first world problems - How do I spend four more weeks in a tropical climate?

As the blog title may infer, the island didn't convince me at all times that I was getting an authentic Central American experience, and I wanted to see some different places before heading back to the States. I mean no disrespect to the locals or capitalism, but anytime a lot of outside money has been introduced to an indigenous area it absolutely changes the atmosphere (I believe history overwhelmingly supports this claim). Even locals would admit on occasion that Utila "wasn't really Honduras," which would be obvious to anyone who has spent time in one of the larger inland cities such as San Pedro Sula or Tegucigalpa. Also, what little gains I had made with my Spanish before coming to the island had most definitely been lost. There wasn't a single moment where I felt obligated to know Spanish for my entire six weeks on the island.

I decided to take a shuttle to Leon, Nicaragua.  It was farthest distance away I could make in one leg of travel by bus, and I figured I would just work my way back north for my flight out of San Pedro Sula on June 2nd.  As I left the island it was bitter sweet as I had built relationships with friends that would now be left to the digital world in order for us to keep in touch. As I sent off copies of the manuscript to some beta readers (fancy writer talk for friends who agreed to read a few sections) I also began researching what I could expect from Nicaragua. I was about to spend a month in a country for a vacation I had literally just planned a week prior - so I was sort of going in blind - but I had the confidence that good plans would present themselves, and they have. But those will wait for another day.

-Dustin

Travel Notes:  Although "Free WiFi" is advertised abundantly across hostels and businesses on the island, I wouldn't count on the reliability of these networks. That combined with frequent power outages - both planned and unplanned - might not make the island the ideal spot for the digital nomad community. However, if you feel compelled to live and work on Utila, Buccaneer's and Neptune's seemed to have the most reliable WiFi networks. Both places also accept credit cards albeit with an additional usage charge, and Neptune's has an excellent and inexpensive panini. But I would be dismissed to not encourage you to visit the small crepe place right next to Buccaneers. It is operated by a lovely French gentleman and you will not be disappointed.

Enjoy a few video clips from my time on the island!
Rooftop Sunset
Leaf Cutter Ants
Pumpkin Hill Beach Trash
Utopia Village Resort

Honduras: A Different Kind of Travel Experience

If you are in the United States and perform a Google search for "Honduras Travel", at least as of a few months ago the top result was a link to the official U.S. State Department's warning that Honduras, specifically the city of San Pedro Sula, was a very dangerous and crime-filled place to travel, and all Americans should take extreme caution if considering a trip to the area. So, naturally, I bought a one way ticket to San Pedro Sula to meet a new girlfriend.

I flew into Honduras from a connecting flight out of Houston. Our approach came in via the Caribbean coastline and as we descended I was able to see the outline of Puerto Cortes, a small peninsula that I had only seen on Google maps up until this point. Although the recognizable shape of this port city was obvious, it was the ridge line of the mountains inland that caught my attention the most.

After a few months of reading about Honduras, attempting to learn the history and culture of the Central American country, somehow a lot of the websites I had been looking at neglected to mention the beautiful landscape of lush green mountains that surround the supposed deadly compound of San Pedro Sula. However, if you haven't caught onto my tone yet, I can assure you that this country, at least in my experience, is far from what the online warnings would have you believe. Which isn't to say there aren't examples of travelers experiencing crime, or that you should do anything outside of safe foreign travel practices, just that you shouldn't be so quick to judge.

I met up with Beris and she introduced me to some of the local flare and cuisine. Although I had purchased the Babbel app to learn some more Spanish before the trip, it was clear that having a local friend with whom I could experience this new place was invaluable. Not all of Honduras necessarily requires a traveler to be fluent in Spanish, nonetheless it would be a great asset to possess before booking a trip. Although we did not spend much time in San Pedro Sula, we did spend time in the neighboring town of Choloma where Beris' mother runs a tortilla business out of her home.

A few days into my stay Beris asked if I would like to attend her aunt's birthday party of which I happily agreed. However, it's here I will let you know that even though I knew a little Spanish and Beris knew a little English, there was still quite the language barrier between us. That barrier was alleviated on our Facebook messenger chats by using translator apps, however, it can be a bit tedious to constantly use a translator for every conversation. So when Beris asked if I wanted to go to her aunt's birthday party (which I understood), the full question actually was "would you like to spend two full days in a small village in a sugar cane field for my aunt's birthday?"

Armed guards stood at the entrance to the sugar cane field as we drove our two car caravan through the gate. We passed some of the fields that had been harvested and then proceeded down a small road that was lined with huts and homes along both sides. We had reached the village of Masicales. The village was nestled in a valley with mountain ridges visible on both ends of the road that divided the town, and there was a small body of water over which we had to cross to enter the village. It wasn't clear exactly where the water was coming from when we pumped it from the well, however, considering I was using that water to brush my teeth and make coffee, I thought it was best I didn't investigate that matter further.

I mingled with Beris' family members, including her adorable grandparents, and practiced some of my Spanish with them as they prepared various dishes for the party that evening. All the while some form of up beat Latin music was blasting from a stereo in one of the many surrounding homes near where the party was to be held. A staple of tortillas, beans, sour cream, and fried plantains was abundant in the food prepared for the weekend. We also had eggs, chicken soup, and of course birthday cake, which was quickly devoured by every child at the party - which appeared to be every child in the village (Birthday Parties apparently have no property boundaries in Masicales). The most fun part of the evening, besides a tandem motorcycle ride through the village, was the dancing. The aforementioned music did not stop until early in the morning, much past my bedtime, but before that time I enjoyed an evening of dancing with Beris, her aunt, and her grandmother, all of whom could out dance me, however I think I held my own. 

The trip back to the coast was complete with road side stops to purchase small bags of popcorn and water, and we even passed a semi-trailer carrying a full load of brand new Pampers baby diapers that had tipped over along the side of the road. We returned to the motel at which we were staying just outside of Puerto Cortes. We stayed here for the next few evenings as I looked into what I would do with the rest of my 90 day visa for Central America.

Admittedly, I hadn't made any concrete plans past spending a few weeks with Beris. We had known each other for only a few months prior to my arrival. Although this may seem like a quick friendship with which to trust my safety in another country, however, I have more regretted the opportunities of which I didn't take in my life than the ones I did. So who cares how long I had known her? We had enjoyed video chatting and learning about each other's country's and a one way ticket to San Pedro Sula at the time, undoubtedly because of the travel warnings, was only $150. I had made the mistake of not purchasing a plane ticket once before to further pursue a relationship, and I suppose you could say this was my way of redeeming myself. I was excited at the prospect of possibly starting a relationship with Beris, however, I was very aware of the many obstacles that path would present. I didn't speak her language and she didn't speak mine. Obviously the distance would prove difficult, but I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't take advantage of some inexpensive foreign travel and see if there was something more to this. Unfortunately, it was not the correct timing for this to last.

This isn't to say that Beris and I are not still friends, or that coming to Honduras was a mistake. Far from it. We just had different expectations of this relationship that had spawned over the past few months. I do not regret for one second my decision to travel here and talk with Beris in person about all of this. The romantic side of this relationship didn't end in turmoil, it ended because two people communicated their intentions with each other - which I find to be a very fulfilling endeavor. Even if it was done with a translator app. To paraphrase Barney Stinson from How I met Your Mother, this was not a failed relationship, it was a very successful three month relationship.

I had not intended to be down here much longer than a month, but when I realized I had nothing to do until my friends bachelor party in June in New Orleans, I figured why not stick around Central America a bit longer? I chose the island of Utila off the eastern Honduran coastline. Beris accompanied me to the bus station where I purchased a ticket with Hedman Alas Buses for 350 lempiras, or approximately $12 USD, and then proceeded on a four hour bus ride in an air conditioned charter bus through the mountains. The ride ended in the small town of La Ceiba where I would take a ferry to the island for the next part of this journey.  

Although this may not sound like a typical travel experience to Honduras, it was very much mine - and I wouldn't have traded it for anything. It provided me with cultural experiences beyond what I could expect from any travel guide, and it all started with a friend request on Facebook. Thank you, Beris.

I'm currently in Leon, Nicaragua where a rain storm just blasted the main square. Needless to say all the street vendors went running! I'll hopefully get caught up on my blogs with some insight from my time in Utila and Nicaragua shortly. Thanks for reading!

-Dustin

Travel Tip: When your Sprint representative says you will have reliable data connectivity with your international phone plan in Honduras, they are lying.

The Mongolians of Asia

The Baby Giraffe Theory

I can not stress enough of how great a person Julia Clark is in allowing me to stay at her place while visiting Mongolia.  I knew she would be working while I was there and I knew I would not be adventuring everyday - taking time to relax was kind of the point - so it was fantastic to have a home base in which I could read, write, and watch all the HBO I could handle. I'm pretty sure HBO just came for free with every basic television plan but I didn't feel that piece of cultural information was worth any further research so it remains a mystery to this day.

This allowed me to budget my time so that I would still experience a traditional two or three week packed vacation, but not with all the stress and anxiety that can accompany such getaways. This is very important while traveling.  As much as I love an exciting new adventure, I also know the heartbreak of defeat when your body just can't appreciate something when it is too tired to care. While living in Hawaii I witnessed this phenomenon with a fury.  I watched individuals and families alike fly into Kahului airport on Maui with the enthusiasm of a baby human playing peek-a-boo, and leave with the disorientation of a baby giraffe just being born - a six foot drop to the ground, covered in afterbirth, and not a penny to your name.  I think this may speak closer to home for traveling families but the concept can reign true for any individual.

What I'm trying to say is one of my favorite reasons for longer travel experiences is the cup of coffee you can drink the day following a planned excursion without feeling like you're "wasting a day." Taking the time to reflect, relax, and not too mention save some money while traveling rebuilds the soul in a way I can't describe.  It also allows you another opportunity to meet people and discover activities that may not have been possible if you had planned every second of your trip ahead of time. It's quite amazing the endeavors that can happen if you allow yourself the time to discover them, such as a professional wrestling event, a North Korean dining experience, and being asked to attend and critique a local public speaking group, to name a few.  (Or my trip to Lake Khovsgul, check it out on my post A Great Big Lake).

A Three Day Binge

Remember all that stuff I just said about taking time to relax while traveling? Well sometimes that doesn't always happen!  Sometimes the activities that become a possibility while drinking that cup of coffee just have to be done on certain days, and my final three days in the country became very busy real quick.  After meeting with my friend Ninj to talk about her company and her experiences working for the Mongolian education system, I was invited to a New Years/Holiday party held on my last Friday in the country.  As much as Mongolia may seem like a country behind the times in some regards, it is right on par when it comes to parting like Prince assumed 1999 would be like.

This classy party, during which I would wear the second tailored suit I bought in the country, would be happening after one of the most interesting and rewarding days I have ever experienced.  Teaching English is the quintessential job an expat can do in another country, so when I was thinking of looking for work abroad this is usually what others would suggest I look into doing, however, most of these positions are through American companies, and thus you fly into the country knowing you have a job - apparently I didn't get that memo. When I arrived I began reaching out to a few job postings but nothing seemed to make sense, and once I decided to fly back to the States my job searching efforts stopped - that would be a hell of a commute.  So, naturally, that's exactly when opportunities began to present themselves.

Mongolian Background Check

While celebrating the holidays one evening drinking gluhwein and baking cookies with a group of Germans I met while horseback riding, my freunde Roberta asked if I would help a friend who was looking for an English speaker to talk with a group of students. But after a phone conversation with her friend Saran, it became clear this was not going to be just an English speaking group, but a longer day inside of a school speaking with students...at least that's what I thought.

Imagine this:  A German woman who I had only known for a few days, gave me a number to a Mongolian woman I have never met, who asked to meet me in freezing cold weather at seven in the morning in front of a shopping mall.  From there we would walk to a bustling school filled with high school and middle school aged students and meet with the principal.  The only thing I could interpret from this brief meeting was he asked if I spoke Mongolian and Saran's response was "no." However, after he offered me a treat from the snack bowl on the table, I touched the side of the bowl first before taking a snack - a local custom for which I am still not sure what it represents - and this must have been enough for him to think that I was completely safe to spend an entire day with his students. Meanwhile in America, while performing a background check for my current position which involves zero interaction with children, I was asked to recall any traffic infractions, including speeding tickets, for the past ten years...

After the principal gave his approval of me I was then led out of the room, up the stairs, and into a classroom.  Even at this point I was still not exactly sure what was happening, but I would soon learn that I had agree to teach fourteen classes over the next ten hours...

As I walked into the first classroom I placed my jacket on a chair, Saran introduced me, and everyone sat down and began to stare in my direction.  I had been given zero information about which topics or subjects to teach, nor did I speak the students' native language.  However, having spent two years as an educator in Colorado, I am actually very comfortable with groups of students, even if I don't have much information to go on (management is key to an effective classroom).  Also, I discovered my purpose for being there was to merely speak with students to help with their English, so it didn't matter what I talked about. Throughout the day my improvised lesson plans were a range of topics including American Christmas, singing and dancing styles, and, of course, a few lessons on basic geologic principals of Planet Earth.  Plate tectonics and volcanoes are exciting in any language!

After ten hours my energy was drained but my spirits couldn't have been higher.  I really enjoy kids, both working as an educator or playing with my nieces and nephews, and I had been on a kid hiatus while traveling so this day, however draining, gave me a renewed sense of purpose. Also, watching a 5th grade girl copy my drawing of the Earth showing the inner and outer cores, the mantle, and the outer crust is just special. As I left my final classes the students all wished me well and I them. One of them even gave me a note expressing her satisfaction with me, which is the like the equivalent of your heart winning an Olympic gold medal.

Even though I was completely exhausted (my teaching style is very animated), there was no time to relax. I only had thirty minutes to shower, suit up, and make a great appearance at a Mongolian holiday party which included dancing, shots of vodka, late night karaoke, and new friends. It was a great day.

Saran met with me a day later and offered me a full time teaching position if I wanted it but unfortunately I had plans to leave a few days later. The offer still stands for next school year, however, I have no idea what my life will look like then. And that was how I worked one day as a teacher in Mongolia.

Boyhood Dreams

Tom Koch is a living expat legend in Mongolia.  He seems to pop up almost everywhere you look and you're never disappointed when he does.  I first met Tom when he was the senior Marine at the annual Marine Corp Ball I discussed in a my post Patriotism from Across the Pond. As tradition goes, the senior Marine always eats a piece of cake and then passes it to the youngest Marine. If you look through the photos on that post Tom is the one in the awesome vintage red military garb. He has been living abroad for almost thirty years.  After leaving the States, he moved to Japan and began his teaching career and also started a family.  He now lives in Mongolia and continues to teach.  At 67 years old he has amazing life stories and "inspiring" would be an understatement to see someone of his age continuing to do things with the type of energy he exudes. So when he arrived at the empty parking lot where I had arranged for a shuttle to take me dog sledding on my final day, I was more than happy.

We arrived at an area deep in Terelj National Park and the sound we heard when we exited the vehicle put an ear to ear smile on my face: Barking.  Just barking.  There is nothing quite like the audio of hundreds of Siberian huskies all trying to get your attention for what I can only imagine is to rub their bellies - and I was happy to oblige!  Although we missed getting on the first ride of the day, it was actually a blessing in disguise as it gave us more time to play with the remaining dogs at camp.  We even got to go into the area where all the dog houses were kept and see two sets of new future sledding puppies. Just adorable. Whereas other stories of dog sledding adventures I have heard forbid contact with the dogs, here we were more than encourage to indulge in some puppy playtime.

Tom and I were paired together in one sled and we would switch who was driving half way through the run.  I drove first. Needless to say they assumed way too much in terms of "how much I knew about dog sledding" because they gave me two or three quick instructions and then, almost without notice, we were off.  As we glided down the path it quickly became clear this would be a challenge to maintain myself, and Tom for that matter, in an upright position.  Within minutes the biggest concern I had was Tom's safety, but it didn't take long before I got the hang of it and I was all smiles.  Hell, I was practically laughing.

There are some things we have all wanted to do since we were little and, with ten dogs in front of me, my hands gripping the handles, and my right foot ready to stomp on the brake if needed, I was living one of those dreams.  In fact, a few weeks later while I was waiting in a dentist office in Chicago, an article in a travel magazine discussed dog sledding in Siberia as a must do life adventure and it was pretty cool thinking "yeah, it was."

In high school, my driver's education instructor was Mr. Grabe, a man well into his 70's and would sometimes fall asleep while we did our longer highway drives.  It was okay, because at this point, with forty dog paws controlling my faint, nothing he could have said would have prepared me for when we veered the sled into an open area and the back end began to fishtail away from me. I did my best to control the skid and whatever I did must have worked as we straightened out, but that victory was short lived as our guide then headed his sled towards a very thin single track hiking trail and my confidence in my ability to maneuver us in there was not much.

As we reached the aperture of the trail I realized we would have to make a sharp left turn. When we hit the turn, I instinctively hopped off and began running along the right side of the sled as I held on with my left hand to avoid tipping over. With a Marine veteran zipped in the front carriage I felt an extra sense of responsibility to keep us upright. Our sled finally caught the grooves of the trail, so I loosened the grip of my left hand, jumped back to the left, grabbed both handles, and with the precision of Marty McFly landing the hover board on Doc Brown's foot while hanging off the side of a train, my feet miraculously landed on the two planks of wood that served as my base while the dogs rushed down the path.

My turn driving the sled ended after we raced across a frozen river, parts of which were not completely frozen, and we came up on the midway checkpoint.  Here I would switch my role with Tom and now my life would be in his hands. I don't know too many almost 70 year old people who can drive a car safely (remember my driving instructor?), let alone control a group of ten feisty dogs on an icy path, but hey, what could go wrong?  Absolutely nothing is the answer.  Tom handled those dogs like a champ, including one intense moment when our guide took us around a bend at an alarmingly fast rate and Tom kept us upright, and I was very thankful for that!

We finished the day exploring more of the national park including another stop at the giant Chinggis Khaan statue I discussed in my post The Opposite Side of the Fence. Except this time it was open and we were able to explore the museum inside and spend a few minutes on the outside platform on top of his horse just below Chinggis himself, providing a panoramic view of the countryside.  I felt this was a very fitting end for my last day in this beautiful country.

A Final Reflection (Written while I was still in the country)

As I sit in Peaberry, a small coffee shop overlooking Peace Avenue, I'm staring at the cluster that is Ulaanbaatar city traffic at quarter to six. I am trying to muster the energy to put on my jacket - my fifth layer of clothing - and venture back to Julia's apartment.  Although there was a chance I may stay here and look for work, this has ultimately turned into a little longer than usual vacation. Although I was only in the country for just under a few months, I feel I have had a great opportunity to learn about and experience the very unique and diverse culture that is Mongolia, both in and out of the city.  Although it may be tempting to write off the Mongolians as a classic tale of an ancient culture slowly losing its heritage in the face of an ever evolving world, it is very clear there is something special about the people who live here.

Although there are similar traits among people of all countries (I'm pretty sure we all love Taylor Swift), there are very fascinating cultural differences that make this place unique.  At the beginning of my visit a Mongolian woman was jokingly referring to the Mongolians as the "Mexicans of Asia", which admittedly drew some laughs notwithstanding the somewhat racy nature of the comment. Whether or not she was referring to similarities in fashion trends or that the Mongols are also a country where their neighbor felt the need to build a wall, I don't know. However, what I can tell you is that in my short time here I feel that grouping the people of Mongolia with any other country or culture would be a mistake.

Thank you for following my time spent in the coldest national capital in the world!  I hope I described my experiences over the last four posts in ways that not only entertained but also inspired some adventures of your own.  This short series has been fun to write and please let me know if you have any questions!  If you're interested in some past hiking experiences you can check out my other blog Dee Dubs Appalachian Adventure.  I'll hopefully be back here soon with more stories. Thank you for reading!

-Dustin