Motels and Coconuts

A few days with a base did us all good; Jon was able to visit the launderette for possibly the first time on the trip, finally convinced that going in the sea did not constitute washing his clothes by the fact that his shorts had begun to rot. Overwhelemed by the prospect of the fridge, the guys went out to Walmart and bought $140 of food for 2 days (never, ever, let guys go shopping alone when they are hungry). However, we made some really incredible meals whilst we were there and I discovered that I am a tortilla making master. We went swimming every day and there were huge electrical storms every night – the sky looked like it was suffering a power cut – and when you woke up in the morning there were fallen coconuts all over the road.

 We left Baracias the morning after a huge storm and, refusing to pay for the toll road, we began winding “Undead Red” round the “curvas peligrosas” (dangerous curves) of the mountains towards Mexico City - I´ve never experienced such hair pin bends! The road was pot holed, unfenced and covered in fallen rocks and trees from the night before. The scenery looked just like Switzerland or something, with these huge blue mountains and rain washed greeneery complete with cows, dogs, bulls and horses in the road. When we stopped in this cottage with a genuine smoking chimney set in a deep valley for breakfast, I literally expected Heidi to come skipping round the mountains yodelling away with a set of goats! There were just three things on the cottage menu: meat, rice or some kind of meat-rice combo. When we paid, the lady who served us kissed the money and crossed herself in front of her catholic shrine in the corner.

Failing to do the entire journey to Mexico City in one day, we pulled up in a surreal hostel and (since we were in the middle of severe storm no.54785837457) decided to stay in the first room we could. It turned out to be an extreme sort of love shack with an open toilet and a shower without a door in a room with a king size bed in the centre of it all. Privacy levels hit whole new lows. There was also a gigantic spa in one corner of the room which promptly exploded as soon as the guys turned it on, seeming to bring the storm inside and soaking the entire bed so we all had to sleep on the floor. Somehow though, we all managed to fit in to this hot tub (or “tepid tub”) and laughed a lot, the guys managing to drink over a litre of tequila.

You can imagine that the next morning, the guys did not feel like driving in to Mexico City. We left our car in the nearest air port car park and haggled a few guys in to taking us to our hostel. As soon as we checked in we had to head out to Mexico City airport on the underground to pick up Laura, Paul´s girlfriend, who is going to be with us out here for a while (finally, another FEMALE). It was only on arrival that she told us about the attempted plane attacks from England – we´d all been living in a car motel bubble and didn´t know a thing about it! Reading about the whole thing, as well as what´s happening in Lebanon, is really frightening.

Our first day in Mexico City, and Jon and I have spent the entire day in the airport trying to figure out our flight home (there is no way we can pass through the Darian Gap and even Jon doesn´t want to go through Columbia). Airports are human created hell zones, phone cards must have been invented as some kind of sick torture instruments and airline companies have a tendency to breed, separate and multiply as soon as you try and pin one down. I am very, very tired, but the outcome of it all appears to be that Jon and I are going to travel all the way through Central America (stay tuned folks), taking a flight from Panama City to Caracus to return home on the 11th September.