It has been a wonderfully heartwarming couple of days for me. The first thing to report was that baby Eir decided (with a little encouragement and support from her big sister) that it was time to finally let go of mum's fingers and walk on her own. There was much hilarity on the back porch of the farmhouse as the 3 of us played the "walk to mum, walk to big sister" game. I took a video of some of it on our camera and Freja has watched it over and over since i posted it on facebook. She laughs every time. This could also mean i'm in trouble though - now trying to keep an eye on 2 mobile toddlers!
Us gals spent yesterday morning hanging out on the finca, watching the walking video and drawing pictures. Freja was having a rainbow inspired day and i lost count of the number of rainbows we had to draw together. I don't think she'd ever asked me to draw one before so i'm not sure where the thought came from - but it did have some significance later in the day......
I had arranged to meet up with our friends Brendan and Jason for a bite to eat in town in the afternoon. They had just secured themselves an apartment for their stay here so we went to inspect. Its hard to keep driving around in the big and bulky VW when i'm just popping into town (although it can have its advantages when you have 2 babies in tow) so i had decided to walk. I've discovered though that walking here with the 2 babies requires a lot of time and patience. What should be a 10 minute walk across the river and into town actually takes around 3/4 hr! Between Freja wanting to walk on every raised kerb and Eir wanting to stretch her new found legs, not to mention the fact the EVERYONE we pass wants to stop and talk to these 2 "azules" (big blue eyes) it truly is a test of patience. However we made it eventually, met the boys and had a bite to eat. The other thing that happens every time we go into town is that the girls see the beach - and want to be on the beach. Yesterday was no different. I had managed to divert Freja into the restaurant and thought i might have got away with just heading home after we had eaten - but alas no - she had barely swallowed the last gulp of my sandwich (yes she ate all hers and promptly devoured what was rest of mine too) before the cries of mummy we NEED to go to the beach began again. There was even somewhat of a sit down protest staged in the front door of the restaurant. Eir joined in too - though she was more interested in trying eat the stones on the road. I agreed - despite the fact that i was totally unprepared, no bathing suits or towels or clean nappies - and as it was getting late in the afternoon we had a pact that we would go for half an hour then head home before it got too dark.
I thought i might be able to convince them to stay out of the water and that we could just build sandcastles. Who was i kidding? As soon as Freja got her toes in the sand she had stripped off and was in the ocean. Even Eir with her new found legs virtually ran after big sis and was up to her knees in water by the time i got to her to help her out of her clothes. They laughed and squealed at each other the entire time.
I bent down to help Eir out of a rather big wave. As i lifted my head to turn round I saw a very familiar face standing right beside me dipping his toes into the water. Mr Dieter Braun. A good friend of ours from Saskatoon. I knew he had moved to Montezuma, Costa Rica a few days before we had embarked on our adventure, but i sure wasn't expecting to see him on the beach in San Juan Del Sur. So after the "Dieter, is that you?" and the initial puzzled who is calling my name look i got in return, old friends were reunited on the beach in Nicaragua. It was really amazing to re connect with him. I had expected that we'd meet each other some how in Costa Rica in the future but never had i expected this. So we swapped stories of our adventures thus far and our hopes and dreams for the future as the girls frolicked in the waves. Then Freja ran up to me shouting "mummy,mummy, look!" and as i looked over my shoulder - there was a huge rainbow arching over the beach as the sun set into the ocean. It was beautiful. I felt as if Freja had somehow had a huge hand to play in the events of the day. Almost as if she had made it happen, from drawing rainbows earlier in the day, to convincing a reluctant mum to go on the beach - even for just a short time. Thanks Freja.
Thursday was to be art day for the kids in the little community surrounding the earthship. Our hosts Brooke and Tim have developed a fantastic relationship with the locals up there and every so often Brooke will spend some time with the kids doing some art stuff. Myself, Freja and Eir along with Brooke's friends who are here visiting were all super excited to be a part of art day. Brooke had realised as she had got to know the people that no one had any pictures of themselves or their families - no one has access to cameras. So over the past wee while she has gone crazy taking pictures of everyone. Her friends visiting had brought with them around 40 little wooded picture frames, and the idea was that the kids would each get a picture frame which they could paint however they liked, and they'd get copies of the pictures she'd taken to put in them. A kind of Christmas gift to them all. I wasn't prepared for the overwhelming excitement that met us as we drove in the truck out to the site. The kids knew we were coming and were patiently waiting for us to arrive. The ones who lived a little further away jumping in to the back of the truck as we drove past. One of the little boys broke his arm just a few days ago and seemed so sad as his friends piled on board. His mum was reluctant for him to come with us. He sat gloomily in his chair outside the house. Brooke went over to chat with him. I couldn't hear what she said to him, but i could tell from the way she stroked his cheek in comfort and gave him some stickers for his cast, that there was a wonderful bond between not only these 2, but with all the kids she meets. Luckily we had to take a detour and by the time we came back his mum had changed her mind and he could come with us - he went home with such a smile, and with his cast painted in bright blue. So we picked up more kids as we drove along the bumpy, windy, wet road and i thought that this was it - we'd be taking these kids to a house somewhere and doing some painting. Then we rounded a bend a huge cheer went up and as i looked to my left there was a whole community....kids, mums, some older men...all so excited to have art day too. Freja saw them too and "wow, look at all the kids, woohoo" was the response. There was a wonderfully warm and loving energy surrounding the whole place. So we piled out of the truck - Freja and Eir were of course a wonderful surprise and were met with the usual warm and welcoming smiles and chatter. But not only from the mums - the kids were all desperate to take Eir by the hand or pick her up and give her a huge hug, and Freja was whisked away in complete acceptance. It felt really really good to be talking Spanish again - i feel i've been horribly lacking recently - and i think people knew what i was saying - which is even better. Freja's Spanish improves everyday too. I think she already says thing i don't understand!
So after a few hours of painting it was time to go. The mums that were there seemed to enjoy the painting almost as much as the kids - after all so many of the mums are really just kids themselves. A drive back to the earthship was a real treat and you could tell that all the kids just wanted to be in the back of the truck for as long as they possibly could. It was fantastic to see them return to their parents with their new pictures, and their parents too seemed genuinely thrilled to be able see the newly decorated pictures and frames. Very possibly the only christmas presents the entire household will see this year. What does Christmas mean to those who have nothing?

Eir fell asleep in the truck on the way home, Freja picked the paint off her hands - both were thrilled with their new amigos . I was thrilled to have been a part of such a beautiful experience.

First things first, Finca means farm and we'll get into Earthships later. Okay, ready?

San Juan Del Sur is a lovely little town with it's original roots in the fishing industry, but that is slowly changing as tourism begins to take over here. There are a few beach breaks nearby for surfers, lots of good restaurants and a beautiful ocean view, two giant cliffs almost embracing the water which is lined with fishing boats. The locals are friendly, the gringos have consciences and the weather has been nothing short of fantastic

The main reason we made this our destination was for The Earthship. Now for those of you who don't know what an Earthship is, I recommend reading this. But for those that want a simple explanation, an Earthship is a house made from completely recycled materials (usually tires) and is completely self sufficient. Pretty cool huh?

Now upon hearing of this Earthship in Nicaragua I immediately sent a flurry of e-mails to all those I could find on their website. I received a reply from Tim and Brooke, both who live in San Juan Del Sur and are very involved in the Earthship project. In one of my e-mails to them I mentioned the music festival I helped with in Saskatchewan called "Ness Creek Music Festival". So they tell me it's been a plan of theirs to have a music festival at the Earthship when it's near completion. Now we're getting somewhere..

After many e-mails back and forth I find myself behind the Finca house they rent, sitting in a VW van with two sleeping daughters brainstorming poster ideas for a music festival at an Earthship that I'm headlining. Talk about realizing a dream. Our timing was perfect too, the main project leader Dave was returning for a few weeks to really get some work done. It happened to be 2 days after we arrived that him and his crew showed up. Perfect.

So the last little while I've been out at the Earthship working away on a variety of jobs. Roofing day a couple days ago, needless to say I got fairly sun-burned - bound to happen when you're roofing with very reflective metal in a Central American Country. A couple days ago I only did a half day but came home with an interesting story.

Back on the roof we were pulling out some stray pieces of wood so that we could finish putting the metal sheets up. I was asked by Ted (one of the original Earthshippers in U.S.A.) to climb over the roof and pull some pieces out. No problem, I'm fine with heights what's the worst that could happen. Well I'll tell you.

The worst that could happen is that you are banging away with a hammer and knock a giant wasp nest. I was immediately surround by wasps, being stung on every part of the right side of my body. Trying to a hold of some footing, I scrambled up the roof with amazing dexterity considering I lost a flip flop in the process (yes I wore flip flops on the job site, something I won't repeat after what happened today). So I managed to get onto the back of the roof, still being chased and stung by wasps. I managed to get away with more than a few stings and a hell of a story. Thank god I wasn't allergic, that would have sucked.

Anyways for the last three days at work I've wired all the plugs and pounded tires for the retaining wall. Pounding tires sounds like it may be easy work let me assure you it's not. When the sun is beating down on a hot sunny day and you are outside with a sledgehammer, pounding clay into a tire until it looks like it's going to burst, it's hard work. But it's gratifying and feels nice to come home tired, not to mention how good a cold beer tastes after a day like that. Thank god, Tim, Brooke and Dave keep their cooler well stocked with beer for the ride home.

Anyways, I'm going to do my best to keep you updated with progress out at the Earthship and all things San Juan Del Sur. I should mention that we've re-connected with some friends from our school in Guatemala, Brendan and Jason have decided to stay in San Juan until February so we're in good company. Adios mi amigos, mas llantas manana.

As i lie here in a hammock, relaxing in the breeze while Matty is off building an earthship and the babes both sleep, a few things about our journey through Central America pop into my mind. Mainly the people. Aside from the guys at the border crossings so many desparate to rip off the easy target "scared cos we can't speak the language and are uneasy with this different culture and we've heard so many rumours" tourists, ( we fell into that catagory ourselves on occassion) there were so many decent folk dotted around pointing out the right direction, or office. I'm learning so much about people and I've never felt as acutely aware of how we are connected to each other no matter where - or who - we are.

Our time in Guatamala was fantastic and Xela very quickly makes you feel welcome and comfy and it was hard to leave. Our hosts at the school La Democracia were truly beautiful people. Right from my first meeting with them i felt completely at home - even despite the initial language barrier. Thanksgiving dinner, Matty's wee concierto, even ensuring our safety with police escorts when necessary, there was nothing that was too much trouble for them. The other students too were fantastic people, each with their different tales of adventure and interesting stories on what brings them there and where they will go to next.

Our host family Barbara, Lilia and Abuela were also so wonderfully hospitable, we really did feel like a part of the family. It wasn't just a place to stay. Barbara went over and above that. Taking the girls completely into her heart too - babysitting so Matty and I could get a bit of peace occassionally, sending us off to the cinema, giving us her truck to go on day trips, organising a few gigs for Matty to play in the city, taking the girls to play with her cousins, her sister even bought Christmas gifts for Freja and Eir. She even mentiond wanting to gift Freja one of her pedigree puppies - until she realised what a nightmare it would be at border crossings (and for mummy and daddy). There were tears when we had to say adios.
I noticed every day as i walked to school in Xela that the folks I's pass on the street seemed to have a sullen, almost frown upon their face as they look at you with slightly suspicious eyes. Perhaps it was just their disgruntlement at the chilly mountain mornings. A beunas dias or hola though and the transformation is dramatic - their faces completely light up with such spirit and charisma and warmth. I loved my walks in the mornings. I loved watching those faces light up.
I often thought it a little odd though to see the women, most of whom still dress traditionally to be standing on the street corners chatting on cell phones - a weird meeting of 2 eras.

Another thing that sticks with me about our time in Guatamala was when we visited the finca. In the afternoon all the kids were playing with each other, Freja's name was echoing around the entire place, bikes, footballs, puddles from the rainstorm, fun trancends the language gap. Then the following morning as we began our tour of the coffee plant those same kids were now at work, aged 7 or 8 i'd guess. It took me by surprise - even though we'd be told so often about kids working, and i'd seen some the day previously hiking with bags of coffee on their backs, somehow until i had actually seen them playing with my kids, and doing things i associate kids with doing iy hadn't really registered - it was a real eye opener for me to see them no longer at play, but with a serious working look on their faces, working in the world of the grown ups.

The family we met in Honduras - again totally opened themselves up to us. Everything they have became ours for that night. I must admit i felt a little inadaquate at times there. Miriam asked me if i needed some water to wash our clothes at the end of the night. Ah, ehm, no thanks....i don't really know how to without the aid of a machine......i have no idea how she managed to cook up and serve up such a huge amount of seemingly unending food for a seemingly unending number of people, in such a short space of time. The entire table was covered in freshly made tortillas. I don't even know who all the peoole were, but no one went without food. Her husband was asleep by 8pm as he leaves the house at 5am every morning to milk their 20 or so cows, back to the house with full churns by 8am then off to his day job. By that time in the morning all the women have been up for a good 2 hours too. A quick cup of coffee with some sweet bread while the entire yard is swept and cleaned - everyone picks up a broom and sweeps. The fire's started, pots of water put on to boil and some more laundry scrubbed, and then before i knew it once again Miriam has announced another huge plateful of food awaits us on the table - when exactly did she have time to cook it? I've only just managed to rub the sleep from my eyes and dress the babies?
I don't think they were a really poor family. She is a retired teacher, her daughters are now both university educated teachers, her son an engineer, they're house was relatively big, ( 3 or 4 rooms perhaps) they have TV and a truck and a blender and a few other kitchen appliances. She told me they had just added bits on to the house over time "poco a poco". Still an outside loo and shower though - why not?

More reminiscences later......

Sunday Dec. 7th

Internet. San Juan Del Sur, Nicaragua. We made it. But not without incident of course. Let me begin....

The lovely family we stayed with in Honduras started our morning with a hot cup of coffee and biscuits. I had a quick look over the engine, it was running better than the day before but definitely still not well. We made the executive decision to soldier on, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea. You’ll soon learn why.

After a lovely full breakfast served by our impromptu host family (Eggs, Rice, Beans and Tortillas) we said our goodbyes and hit the road. An uneasy feeling in our collective stomachs as Dora struggled in first and second gear. Something definitely wasn’t right and I was having flashbacks of the mechanics office in Saskatoon before we left.

“There is one part that I can’t guarantee the work for, and that’s the valves. A mechanic in the past had used an after market part and it was leaking a bit. I can’t do anything about it in the time you have, but it could be fatal in the long run”.
Yikes.

Dora was fine when we were cruising along in high gear, but struggling with hills and 1st and 2nd gear. We were scared. About 1 hour into the drive and 2 police checkpoints later we approached the border of Nicaragua. We were stopped to check with the Honduras police and I shut off the van. After a quick conversation and swapping of papers I turned the van on again. She didn’t sound well and when we pulled away she backfired numerous times, sounding like the streets of Xela on game night. We pulled to the side of the road and turned her off. I got out of the van and checked the oil. I couldn’t even touch the dipstick it was so hot. I’m surprised the license plate didn’t melt.

I walked back to the police checkpoint and uttered the words I was hoping not to say on this trip. Especially not at a border, places notorious for the wheelings and dealings we had experienced thus far.

“Necisito un mechanico por favor”

Before I even uttered the words a man was there with a motorcycle offering his assistance. This man had already tried to help us once with our crossing, we declined knowing that the brother of our friend was awaiting our arrival. Without us even really having agreed to it he was off on his bike. 30 minutes to the next town he said where he knows a mechanic that he’ll bring back. So we waited.

While we waited a crowd began to gather round the van. Word got around that there were a couple gringos stuck at the border I guess. I hope it was just curiosity, but I couldn’t help but feel that these poor kids were waiting to see if there was going to be a dead van to scavenge. They really didn’t look like they had much at all, we gave them lollipops and a few cookies but they still stuck around. A few faces lit up at the possibility of shining my shoes when the shoe box was removed from the back of the van.

The mechanic returned, riding behind our original wheeler dealer on his motorbike. He did have an honest face, but I had my guard up. I didn’t trust anyone in this moment. He started to look at the van, testing the spark plugs, cleaning them with sandpaper, looking at the distributor as I watched over his shoulder like a hawk. He asked me to start the van many times, the last of which the van wasn’t starting at all. What had he done!?

This was about 2 hours into the whole ordeal. I convinced myself that he had done all of this on purpose and was going to rip us off. He was saying he needed a different tool and his brother was going to bring it to him. All I was thinking was he’s seeing dollar signs. HIs friend who brought him was trying his best to speak english which was even more annoying; you could tell he had a vocabulary solely for ripping off americans at the border. In fact while we were pulled over one of the guys saw an american car and shouted to the police,

“American! American Car!”

Everyone went running to their posts, I felt like a blind man playing poker.

The mechanic tried to explain to me that it was the electrics that were the problem, from what I understood the distributor wasn’t getting enough power or something. Being the stubborn, know it all that I am I brought out my voltage tester. Tested the distributor. It had juice. I showed him and he tried to explain something else I didn’t understand. I went to a spanish school, but they don’t teach mechanical language there. I was certain he was ripping us off.

I talked to Shona, really what were we supposed to do. It was baking hot, we were at the border, stuck. We tried phoning the family we stayed with but everyone was at work and no one could help us. So I started packing up the van, basically giving in to the next step, whatever that was going to be. A truck pulled up, it was the older brother of our mechanic. He came up to the engine with what looked like a screwdriver with two wires attached to it. There was a crowd of 5 people looking at the engine while he worked. They got me to try and start the van about 5 times, no go.

“One more time” they said.

I clicked the key and the engine started. It was probably the most beautiful sound I’d heard. Not only did it start, but it was sounding brand new. I turned red. The mechanic gave me a smirk and I truly felt stupid. Now came the money part...

Of course, Mr. Motorcycle was the first to talk. He said $100. I said $50. He said $70. I said no, we needed that money to cross the border. He said we would need more than that to cross the border. At the end of it all I gave them $50 and 220 Cordobas which ended up being around $70 dollars. We left and crossed the border, with a guiding hand from the brother of our hosts from the previous night. In this process we met a Canadian guy named Paul and the girl, Vanessa he was travelling with, she was from Oregon. I offered them a ride to Leon, Nicaragua and they accepted. It was really nice, because they had a great time keeping the girls amused in the back while we drove on the beautiful Nicaraguan road. As we crossed the usual border bridge (every border has a bridge) we were ready for the usual police/security/military checks. But this time it was different - very different. First of all we were required by law to purchase insurance for the van. As Mr Insurance Broker guy with his pad of documents started filling out the forms we had our hands once again in our wallets - how much are they going to skin us for this time? We were somewhat taken aback when he asked us for a whacking $12 for one month! And these guys were nice, in fact super nice. The 2 guards sitting in the shade of a tree popped their heads into the van and handed lollipops and cans of pop to the girls. Honesty and gifts from the border patrols? I like this place. Some friendly banter ensued the gist of which was about how many kids everyone had - or wanted. When I suggested i wanted more but that Shona perhaps had a different idea i got the prompt and jovial reply something along the lines of.....well who says the kids have to be hers too?.......We all had a good chuckle and when i asked if they’d like some water i was told that they only drink liquor. In the gifting spirit i asked Paul (our new canadian friend) to reach into the fridge. He produced the bottle of Mescal I had bought when we were in Mexico and we passed it through the open window. Muchos gracias. We continued on our way smiling. I liked it here, so did Shona. There really was something different about Nicaragua, I can’t say what really, but it felt comfortable and nice. It was green and happy.

I still wasn’t sure if the mechanic had made a problem then fixed it until we pulled in for Gas; about an hour outside of Leon. I turned off the car and went to go and buy a cold drink. While doing this, I accidently hit the alarm button which normally wouldn’t be a problem; the alarm stopped working in Mexico. But now it was blaring throughout the gas station and I had to take a moment before realizing that it was our alarm. I shut it off and smiled. The last time the alarm was working we didn’t have any problems with the van. Since it stopped, we’d had difficulties. The electrics. It was the electrics. To think I was upset about a mechanical job where I had 5 skilled people looking at my car on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, in 35 degree heat, all for $70. In Canada it would have cost me $600, at least. Lesson learned. And if you ever read this, thank you for your help, I’m sorry that I judged. I’ll let Shona tell the rest later...

December 5th

El Amatillo. We’ve made it through the most notorious border crossing in Central America unscathed. In fact, not only did we make it across; it was the quickest border crossing yet. Without the help of the “guides” we were told would be necessary. That’s not to say it was smooth sailing, but it wasn’t as horrible as we thought. Here’s what happened.

We left our Auto Hotel at 6am, not certain yet if we were spending another night in El Salvador. It all depended on time. About 1 hour into the drive I felt confident that we would be in Honduras or maybe even Nicaragua by nightfall. The roads were really well maintained and I could keep a comfortable speed of about 80km’s the whole way. That coupled with the lack of tumulos (speedbumps) made for a quite enjoyable ride through El Salvador. I wished we had more time and money, there was a few places we definitely could have stopped, most of which were lined with beautiful beaches. It was about 11:30am when we began the approach to the infamous crossing. Tension was high, I was prepared though and had to nearly run down many of the helpers selling there wares as we neared the crossing. Originally we had decided to find one and get help, though that plan changed as we went along. We could do it ourselves.

First stop, El Salvadorian side to cancel our temporary vehicle permit. I thought this a bit silly considering we were only in the country for 24 hours, but there are many things I find silly about these border crossings. So we cancelled our permits, paid the $12 exit tax ($3 for each passport) and headed further into the maze of trucks, paperwork and hombres nearly jumping in our car wanting to help. Next stop a bridge, of course a bridge there is always a bridge. At this bridge we were stopped by a very unofficial looking man with a pistol. Though he was armed I still didn’t think it was the real deal and wasn’t ready to give up my passport. He didn’t really like this and got his back up with me. I told him in Spanish that I would accompany him and he led me into the office and then left. I should mention that the van was parked very badly, blocking half of the bridge and giant Semi’s behind us honking their horns. I brought Eir with me into the first office and for the rest of my border experience. It’s easier to negotiate with a baby in your arms.

Here he needed all the vehicle papers, and he began to very slowly fill out the Honduras ones. All the while Shona is still in the van blocking traffic. This took about 20 minutes and I’ve learned from this process that you can’t beat a smile in any business. Especially when you show interest in other peoples lives. I started some small talk with him in Espanol and when he was finished with the papers asked where the next step was. He thought it over for a moment and then decided to take me there.

2nd Stop. Random office that I definitely would not have found without his help. Here we waited for about 10 minutes, no idea what for, but he handed the original forms to me with some sort of receipt and asked for $11. Then we walked to another building where he left me, saying that he had to go back to work. I thanked him, though in secret I believed that these papers were a scam. I waited for 2 seconds in line before someone behind me told me I was in the wrong place. They told me in spanish that I needed to go to the bank first to pay for the permit. I refuted this fact for a while, but then finally gave in when others joined into the conversation. I feel bad for not believing people, but you’ve got to careful. I went to the bank across the street and was told I would need photocopies of a document and $33 to proceed. I went and got photocopies and went back to the bank. No, I needed the currency to be in Honduras currency. Back outside to find a money exchanger. Found one, got money changed and went back into the bank. Okay, now I needed to go back to the other side and give all these documents to Migracion.

First window. I hand him all the papers and he takes them away without saying anything. I wait for a while and then finally get told that I need to proceed to the window at the end. I wait there for a little while and then a woman tells me I need my original drivers license and registration (I gave her copies). I go back to the van, drop off my passport and get originals. Then I’m told that I need more photocopies of certain documents. I went to the photocopy place, got the copies and back to the window. She needs to see my original passport again. Back to the van, get the passport bring it to her. More copies. These ones of the stamp in the passport. Then she comes and checks over the van, we go back to the office and she gives me our papers. Yes, we’re done. No, I need to make copies of the papers to give to the guards at the other end of the border. Finally, the last step. All of which could be taken care of very easily if they would just put a photocopier in the immigration office. Jeez.

We made it out onto the highway and I was very happy. People were getting hungry and we needed to take a break. We weren’t going to make it to Nicaragua tonight, so we looked in one of our books “99 Days to Panama” to find out where they stayed. A little family farm just under an hour to the border. Perfect. That was the plan. Only the plan was foiled when the van started acting up. Doing the same thing it did in San Marcos a month earlier. Most likely the timing, with all the big changes in altitudes we were experiencing. No sweat, we’ll make it to the farm and I’ll do my best to adjust the timing there. Sweat. The van stalls and won’t start, just on the outskirts of town. Immediately there is a crowd of people around us poking curious heads in the windows asking if we need help. I go to the back and feel the engine. It’s really hot. This van needs a break. While I’m chatting to everyone around the van Shona and the girls have been invited into the front gate of the house we’re parked in front of. There is other kids there and Freja is already riding in one of thier toy cars. I go over and chat for a little while and within 20 minutes we’re parked in their yard, eating a gigantic meal of Frijoles, Camarones, Tortillas and rice. Freja’s playing, Eir is playing and Dora is getting a well needed rest from the heat. And now, I write from the yard where we have Dora set up. Belly full after a good conversation with the Grandmother of the house and the promise of coffee tomorrow for our journey.

Not only that but her husbands brother works at the border we’re going to in Nicaragua. I talked to him on the phone and he said he’d give us a hand tomorrow in our crossing. I personally think it was Dora’s plan all along. Buenos Noche Amigos.

I write from El Salvador in what they call an Auto Hotel. No internet here so this will have to wait and get uploaded later. I just couldn’t resist writing while it’s all fresh in my mind.

“What’s an Auto Hotel?” You say.

Well, let me explain a few fun facts about this little phenomenon in Central America.

Though it sounds like something from the movie “Cars”, I can assure you it’s much different. The Auto Hotel is maybe not really a story for kids, which is why I find it amusing that we’re watching cartoons in one right now. It’s a hotel which caters to the hourly patrons, complete with a garage to hide your car so that no one knows you’re here. You pull in, shut the garage door and go into your attached room. There is a box in the room where you put your money -the cost depends on how long you plan on visiting- a hand takes your money and leaves your change, a towel and the remote control. You can also buy all sorts of things from this mysterious stranger, breakfast, coffee, beer and others I’ll leave to your imagination. I’ll assure you they aren’t balloons though.

We saw this particular one from the highway about an hour after crossing the Guatemalan border. Though it may sound seedy, it’s quite functional for us at the moment. It’s secure, comfortable and cheap. I’m assuming the armed guard doesn’t see many kids around here, he was a little surprised when our entourage pulled in. Originally we only asked to camp in the secure lot, but when we found out it was only $19 for a room went for that option. The room is nice, shower, T.V., a little patio and Dora fits just perfectly in the little garage. There is a toilet paper dispenser right above the bed that Eir has been having fun with too. The most important thing is that we feel safe here, anyone who visits is not likely to be seen.

We got on the road at 6:30am and after a quick stop for gas were on the same highway we had witnessed the armed robbery on a couple weeks before. Flory (the director of the school) had arranged for a police escort to follow us through the more dangerous parts of the drive, but we never did end up meeting them on the road. Needless to say we didn’t have any problems, drove through some pretty parts of Guatemala and saw another active Volcano spitting up smoke and ash into the sky. This one was way bigger than the first and we actually had a camera this time. Pictures to come. The roads were surprisingly good, not nearly as many Tumulos or Topes as Mexico and we made good time. It was about 12:30pm when we arrived at the border of El Salvador to began the long, tedious process of border crossing. If there is one good reason for flying it’s not having to deal with this process. First we had to stop on the Guatemalan side, cancelled our vehicle permit and went to immigration to tell them we were leaving. This was relatively painless, no major hassles, they checked our passports in the computer and we were on our way. We changed our Quetzales with one of many money changers around and got a surprisingly good rate. 10 Q for a dollar, not bad considering most of the places in Xela were about 7. On we drove into El Salvador.

First stop was with an immigration officer in front of the bridge. He checked over our passports and the vehicle permit and pointed us in the right direction for the next few steps. He was speaking really fast and we didn’t really get much information, but we went on anyways. We saw two Ontario license plates parked that gave us a glimmer of hope, we weren’t the only ones. A couple little boys started swarming around the van asking if we needed help in Spanish, we told them no but they insisted on “guarding” our van while we were inside. Okay, no harm in that We went into one of the building and started waiting in line. This took about 30 minutes only to find out that we needed to go to another office for our vehicle permit. I was having flashbacks of the Mexican Border already. Okay, so we went into another office and began waiting in line again. The girls were getting restless at this point and I went back to the van to give them some food and a juice box each. It was at this point that the crowds came. Everyone wanted to see the little blue eyed girls in the funny looking van. The two boys who were “guarding” our car were the first and then came the rest. The little guys were desperately asking about the few hats I had hanging up and I decided that they could have one each. They were very grateful, though persisted in asking for more stuff as time went on. The girls were in love with Eir and Freja and get picking them up and commenting on their “Azul” eyes. After about 2 hours we went back inside to see what Shona was up to. She was nearly done, filling in the forms of all the things we had in our van. This was a true test of her Spanish, and I was quite proud. We couldn’t explain the breadmaker very well and I think it made it on the list as a toaster. Oh well. He came out, checked out the van and we were basically on our way, one more stop at immigration to check our passports. No problem, we hit the road.

Well hit the road for 2 minutes, until we met up with our first “Checkpoint”. He looked over our papers and then told us we’d need to pay $5 american for tax. I think it was a scam, I tried to explain that everything should be free and he was having none of it. I didn’t want to argue, made sure he gave me a receipt and gave him the $5. Now we’re off.

So we made it 5 minutes and then got stopped by a police checkpoint, he waved us over and wanted to see our papers. He asked a few questions and said we were good to go. We then asked him where a secure place to camp was and he told us to come this way. We’re basically at a crossroads for the coast road through El Salvador, just five kilometres from a small place called Los Cabanos. We’re going to drive to San Miguel tomorrow and prepare mentally for what is supposed to be the worst border crossing in Central America, El Amatillo. That will put us in Honduras for a quick jaunt and then Nicaragua from there. That’s all for me, back to my Corona delivered from that mysterious hand in the box. Early to rise tomorrow.

The gods work in mysterious ways and my coffee prayers were answered ten fold. Our family visited a local coffee finca over the weekend and not only were they growing only organic coffee, it is also a community co-operative with a very interesting and heart wrenching tale of it's conception. I'll give you a summary of the historia (story) that was shared with us over a few beers on Saturday night. For those of you unaware, coffee definitely has a bloody past and this story is just one of many that have happened and continue to happen all over the planet.

Nueva Alianza sits on 650 Acres of mountainous land in the heart of Guatemala. It's a beautiful, but harsh landscape which begins with the long and bumpy road up to the community. We had a mini-bus drop us off at the start of the steep part of the road and the rest of the drive was in the back of our police escort truck. It was and probably will be the only time I was happy to be in the back of a police car. I was holding onto Freja tight the whole way as the road winded through banana and coffee trees, past little shacks with clothes hanging in the morning sun to dry. After about 20 minutes we arrived at the community of Nueva Alianza and unpacked our gear. The Eco-Hotel that we all stayed in had a beautiful sweeping view of the valley below, a view that was limited to the past owner of the finca as this was his old house that we were sleeping in. A giant mansion compared to the rest of the tiny abodes scattered around the hillsides, which is a good point to start from in the story of Nueva Alianza.

The community was made up of about 40 working families. We were told that women and children regularly carried up to 100 pounds of coffee up and down the narrow winding paths, while the men and older boys carried 200 pounds. Shattered were my illusions of the donkey and smiling man that accompany Nescafe's clever marketing. The smiles were there, but hiding behind the sweat on their brows and strain on there faces. Everything was relatively good for the people of Nueva, they were getting wages, they were working hard and content with their dueno (owner). It was after his death that the plantation started to fall apart.

One of the owners sons took over the plantation after his death, but didn't share the same love as his father. He had other parcels of land that took up more of his time. The farm went into default in 1998 and the workers were not paid for their work for a period 18 months. The owner knew that they really had no power. Under Guatemalan law, if they left voluntarily would not see any of their accumulated wages. So they persisted working the farm with no wages, surviving mostly by gathering wild plants for food. It was exhausting both physically and emotionally and some of the 40 families left to find work in the city. The remaining workers organized and sued the owner for their wages time and time again receiving little of what was owed. Eventually, the new owner declared bankruptcy blaming the declining cost of coffee in the national markets and owing by law, little if nothing to the workers.

The farm no longer operating, every family was forced of the land on which they lived for 3 generations. Through a series of discussions with the bankers, labor unions, and NGOs, they organized once more under Guatemalan labor laws and decided in secret to take back the farm at midnight on a December evening. The bankrupt owner caught wind of this, having gone to the farm earlier that morning and taking all of the equipment worth anything substantial, but it was still seen as a minor victory for the Campesinos (locals) that night. The next few weeks were spent under the threats of private security firms with automatic weapons hired by the previous owner's family. These hired guns were notorious for hostile takeovers, usually ending up in the deaths of some -if not all- the workers. The story had gained some attention and the families on the farm were spared this fate, although they kept 10 guards at the gate at all times, not allowing any strangers entrance to the land for months.

On condition with the bank for inhabiting and working the land, the workers were required to pay for $1.9 million quetzals ($250k) for the land. After the air of hostility settled, the workers applied and received a development loan from the sole governmental organization setup after the peace accords to help indigenous groups and begin buying back the farm for themselves and future generations. A victory in a country that usually doesn't favour the community organized resistances that they had staged. The old owners house was turned into an Eco-Hotel, realizing that tourism would be a good way to bring in capital and educate people to their plight and that of others. Over three years later, the farm was finally back in action producing equal the previous amount. The first step in this process included slaves of work to get the plants producing again, having been left dormant for 6 years. This however only produced the raw product, selling pennies in comparison to proceeded beans. Purchases of new and fixing of old machinery followed, all due to the former owners theft or lack of maintenance, and its a process that continues today with the help of numerous local and international NGOs.

Today, Nueva Alianza has many projects on the go and many more planned for the future. They realized that they could use the natural springs throughout the land to purify and bottle water for their community. It has now turned into a supply for not only Nueva Alianza, but many of the neighboring communities as well, including Xela, selling for 12Q ($1.75) a 5-gallon jug. They have a working Bio-Diesel plant, with plans to use only non-food producing plants grown on their land instead of relying on the cooking oil from nearby restaurants who -realizing the capitalist opportunity- have begun charging exhorbanent rates for their waste. They also grow macadamia nuts, harvested and processed year-round. All of the power for the finca is generated on site with a micro-hydroelectric system catching energy from a nearby waterfall. The families installed a solar water heating system, which should be operational soon. A school for children in the community was created and a satellite for Internet access installed. Politically, Nueva Alianza is run by a democratically elected board of directors. All major decisions go to a vote before the families and a women's co-operative operates as well, teaching women's empowerment and sustainable commerce to nearby communities. Did I mention, all of the coffee is grown organically? Several organic techniques are used in the process, including the method for keeping pests away by making a paste from chili peppers and spraying it on plants in the nursery. Organic fertilizer is also used, created from the leftover macadamia nut shells, fermented and mixed with nutrient rich dirt in the area.

It may sound like a dream, but it's not. Nueva Alianza is a working reality in the midst of the Guatemala jungle highlands. I personally didn't want to leave, but they are limited by the terms of the loan to 40 families, 30 of which stuck to their machetes and sticks and fought for the land that they deserved, the land they worked with no pay for 18 months, the land that was their home.

I was inspired by this story. It shows that anything is possible if you really want to make a dream a reality. I will take this knowledge and passion with me to Nicaragua where I see possibilities opening for us. If 40 families with nothing can organize and make it happen, we can too. All of us. Take the power back.

To learn more about Nueva Alianza, check out the website here: http://www.comunidadnuevaalianza.org.

But even better than that would be to go and visit it for yourself.

What a day yesterday.

At our Friday dinner with La Escuela it was decided that we would take a trip to the beach on Sunday. So the bus came round to everyones houses at around 7am and we were off to a little private beach resort where the director of the school Flory knew the owner. First stop just outside of town we stopped for a cup of coffee to help with the waking process. Everyone was still feeling a bit out of sorts from our post dinner birthday celebration for one of the students. But that's another story.

So we've begun the descent from 3000 Meters in Xela down to the coast where a beautiful day awaits us, filled with sunshine, swimming and some breakfast. We're about 45 minutes into the trip when we pull around a corner to two big surprises...

"Look! Look! The volcano is erupting!" shouted one of the passengers.

I was one of the people in the van looking out the opposite window at a man in a red bandana with a shotgun pointing at the car stopped, going the other direction. At first I thought it was the police and then soon realized that this was definitely not some police checkpoint. The volcano could wait.

One man was standing in front of the car wearing what looked like a bandana around his face, but upon further inspection was just his T-Shirt. The other bandido was at the car with a giant pistol shoved in the window of the passenger side. None of the people in our van who were watching the robbery on the left wanted to say anything, and the others were too busy watching the plumes of smoke erupt from the mountain on our right. We were waved through by the shirtless man with one hand while he steadied the shotgun in his other. We continued through the crime scene and as we passed the robbers ran off into the jungle with their loot. When we had gotten a safe distance away, our driver stopped the van infront of a little fruit market. Those who didn't see the bandits were now well aware of what had happened while they had eyes fixed on the active volcano. We were all a little shook up and hesitant to get out of the car to snap some photos of the smoke rising up from the gray mountain.

After pictures were taken, we all got back into the van and swapped stories of what we had just witnessed, all in the space of 5 minutes. Some people don't see either of those things in their entire lives and here we saw it all in what seemed like as long as a commercial break. Wow.

The rest of the drive was without incident and we had let it slip to the back of our minds while we spend the day swimming in the ocean, playing football with a coconut and eating fresh fish and chicken. When we all got back in the van, the conversations returned to the armed, masked men we witnessed at 7:30 that morning. We were all well aware of the fact that we would be travelling through the same pass, though this time it would be dark and we would be far more susceptible to an attack. Flory, the director of the school had phone to report the incident though, and when she did asked for the police to follow us back to Xela. We pulled up to the designated meeting point and the cops waved us through and then tailed us the whole way, switching cars three times along the route. It was actually executed fairly well as one car would flash its lights, the other would pick up where they left off. We arrived safely back into Xela with white knuckles slowly returning to their original colour and stories we all couldn't wait to share with friends around the world.

So that was our Sunday in GUatemala, a little un-nerving considering it's the same road we'll be leaving on in a week. But, don't worry I know we'll be fine. I was extremely impressed with how well the whole situation was handled by our driver and the Flory, so we're in good hands. I just wish we had a faster car. Ha.

More later...

This is taken from a note I wrote on Facebook, there was a bit of dialogue after I posted the note which I included to explain myself and where I stand. I know it's a bit off topic but in my mind a very important topic that deserves some attention



Read this Article, then read this Diatribe....

So let me get this straight. Companies that crushed (literally) the electric car, continued to make Hummers, SUV's and other gas guzzling, inefficient status symbols are asking the government for $25 Billion of tax payers money because they are "Struggling Automakers". It's hard for me to swallow that the CEO's of these companies are really "struggling". Let's take a look at the CEO's of the companies that are pushing the proposed bail-out shall we..

• Richard Wagner Jr. CEO of General Motors

Annual Salary in 2007 - $5,000,000


• Robert Nardelli CEO of Chrysler Corp.

"Nardelli brings with him a history of extravagant pay packages and a golden parachute worth $210 million"


• Alan Mulally CEO of Ford

"received compensation valued at $39.1 million during his four months on the job last year, according to an analysis of a federal regulatory filing made Thursday."

Matty Powell wrote at 10:48pm Point taken. I agree it's important to realize one's own contributions to the degradation of the environment. But, my decision to drive the country in an old van was in fact made as a positive step to decrease my environmental footprint. I left a house I didn't own; one filled with Petro-Chemical products and fueled by Natural Gas 7- 8 months out of the year in a VW Van. This van was manufactured in a country that's "share of electricity from renewable energy has increased from 6.3 percent in 2000 to over 14 percent in 2007. More than 9 billion euros (US$11.31 billion) was invested in new renewable energy installations in Germany in 2006. Some 240,000 people in Germany were employed in the renewable energy sector in 2006, especially in small and medium sized companies. Over half of these jobs are attributed to the Renewable Energy Sources Act." My van is also my house -retrofitted with a solar panel for our power needs- and we have and will be living in it while I volunteer building sustainable houses made from recycled materials in Nicaragua, after we're done Spanish School in Guatemala. This in my mind is a less impact than planes and hotels. No one is perfect, but you do the best you can with what your given. I don't think that U.S. Auto Manufacturers have done the best they can with what they've been given; many opportunities to move in a direction that is more "green" and sustainable. So, in my mind the bailout is unjust, unfair and a waste of taxpayers money that could go into better, greener projects for future generations. Not only that but it will set a precedent for all failing corporations to follow suite; a move that in my opinion will slowly lead to nationalization of many major institutions (Banks, Auto Manufacturers, Etc..). Basically to me, it's like feeding your gambling addicted grandmother with quarters instead of a phone number for help.

Coffee. It's been a part of my morning ritual for quite some time now, usually the first task of the day. In every city I've lived finding the good coffee shop nearby is on of the first steps to integration. It was an easy pick in Saskatoon, The Roastery is some what of a Saskatoon institution. A place where you meet friends, swap stories of the night before and spend time making music and making the world a better place through conversation. My favourite blend of coffee at the Roastery was the Guatemalan Fair Trade Organic. It would brighten my day when I looked at the specials board to be greeted by it's name. So needless to say, I was pretty excited to visit the birthplace of such a fine bean. In my naivety I thought that great coffee would be as easy to find in Guatemala as snow in Saskatchewan in the winter. Boy, was I wrong.

After a few days being around Guatemala you soon realize that the majority of what's being served as coffee is in fact the instant variety. The majority of which is Nescafe. Why at the heart of Coffee Country would they drink such an imbominaton as instant coffee. Surely they must realize how much it pales in comparison to the real thing, freshly roasted, ground and served steaming hot. Why you could probably drive for twenty minutes and be in the very field that The Roastery gets it's coffee beans from. Why in every restaurant and household would they resort to supporting a multinational company like Nestle to fulfill their coffee needs. I'll tell you why.

It's too expensive for Guatemalans to drink their own coffee. What they grow is for export only, solely to supply the Starbucks & Roasteries of the world. The sweat and hard labour of these people is getting flown away to find markets elsewhere, profits they're not likely to see. Sure there are a few places around town that serve up a great cup of coffee, but they are hard to find. Not like walking down the streets of Vancouver or Seattle where Starbucks surround you like a bad dream. I just want everyone to think about that a little when they have their cup of morning coffee. I'm not saying to feel guilty, not at all. Just make intelligent and compassionate consumer desicions and take a moment with your coffee in the morning and think of the many people who worked long and hard to get it into your cup on that frosty morning. The people I'm sharing the roads and streets with today, the people that are teaching me spanish and the people that make Freja and Eir smile and giggle daily. Just think of them.

Other than my coffee diatribe we had a lovely weekend. I played my little show on Friday to a very receptive audience mad up of mostly people from La Escuela. Went to the market on Saturday and got some grocery shopping done. It's quite the affair to go into the Mercado with two babies in tow. I'll get some photo's next time we go so you can see the craziness in action. It's crazy, but there is some sort of unsaid way about the Chaos. It's almost as if because no one is following the rules it works. Like if you're driving and try and follow the rules you're more likely to get into an accident than if you give into the anarchy of it all. Sunday we went to a beautiful hotspring called "Fuentes Georgina" you can see pictures here.

That's it, time to make some lunch for these girls and go to school where there is a decent cup of coffee. Adios Mi Amigos.

Matty P.

Xela, Guatemala sits at an altitude of 2,333 Meters above sea level. According to the professionals "Acute mountain sickness is common at any altitude above 2,500 Meters", while other professionals say "It's common to get tipsy from two or three beers". Which is perfect because then I have two excuses for telling the crowd at my show last night that I "want" two daughters. I was introducing my song, Freja Grace and thought I'd be clever and try and speak a little Spanish. Great idea after a week of Spanish school. What I intended to say was "Yo Tengo Dos Hijas", translated as "I have two daughters". Instead I mumbled "Yo Quiero dos Hijas", and after a few snickers and giggles I was very glad that there was still 3 more weeks of school left. Until then I'll leave my witty stage banter to Hola, Xela.

Anyways it was a nice little French restaurant that I played in aptly titled "Royal Paris". The woman that we're staying with knew the guy who played there frequently and basically set the gig up, his name was Fernando. He played a set, I played a set, then he went on once more and I closed off with a couple tunes. It was fun. I got some dinner and a couple beers for playing, and the small crowd made up of students from School, our home stay family and a couple tables out for dinner all seemed to enjoy themselves and left smiling. I'm not sure if the smiles were for my broken Spanish or the music but either way I'll take it. Fernando could find his way around the classical, nylon string guitar effortlessly and played a wide variety of Latin American folk songs along with a few of his own compositions. It was a pleasure to watch, I'll definitely go back and he mentioned maybe doing it again in a week or so.

Today was a lazy day, Shona got off to school in the morning and the girls and I watched some Spanish cartoons and ate breakfast. Watching Curious George -or should I say Jorge el Curiouso- is actually helping with my Spanish if you can believe it. Eir had a little nap and I dug my way out of the mountain of Vocabulary and Irregular verb homework. Shona got back from school and I headed out the door, in what has kind of become the tag team ritual. There was a trip with the school in the afternoon, and luckily my teacher let me take the hour off to tag along. It was a bus tour around Xela, with a tour guide telling stories about the history of all the buildings we passed. Xela has an odd gothic feel to it, not common for Central American countries. From what I understand, when the Spanish left, the Germans came in and had a major impact on the Baroque style architecture here. The tour finished off with a trip to a local Chocolate shop where we were shown first hand the Cacao process from start to finish. Another one of those little things in life rarely thought about; I know I never thought of Mayans when I bit into a Mars bar. I didn't realize that the conception of all chocolate basically originated from Central America, primarily in Guatemala and Mexico. I guess it's a very picky plant that knows where it likes to fruit. More than I can say for myself. Ha.

Anyways during the demonstrations we were given a cup of hot chocolate right from the source. I have no problems with saying that it was and probably always will be the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted. No seriously, it was mind bogglingly good. After the Chocolatier we got back on the bus and I headed back for the rest of my lesson. It was a hard return to conjugating irregular verbs after being in chocolate heaven but I managed.

So tomorrow evening I have another show at this really great place run by an Ex-Pat from Spain and his Australian girlfriend. The whole school is coming to the restaurant for their Friday dinner so I'll at least have a few English speakers in the crowd to save more embarrassment. Hopefully we'll get some photos and post them up for all to see.

Off to bed, Buenos Noche...

November 11th, Remembrance Day

Well, I believe this is my first Remembrance Day that I didn’t see a poppy. Nor did I hear the poem Flanders Fields, no cadets in uniform and no moment of silence. No, this day was spent in Xela, Guatemala, a country with it’s own history of wars; from ancient wars in which the K’iche met Spanish Conquistadors with a spirited resistance to their empirical aspirations to the more recent civil wars of the 60’s and ’70’s. It’s been a rocky road for Guatemala and I’m sure that more of the people we’re living amongst now have been directly (or continue to be) directly affected by war. It doesn’t stop the toothy grins as I stroll down the street with Eir in the sling and Freja holding my free hand. I would hazard a guess I may be the only man they’ve ever seen wearing a bastardized version of their beautiful, hand woven baby wraps. The Mayan culture is definitely making a hasty comeback in Guatemala; markets are filled with women in traditional dress selling traditional food and clothes. It’s nice to see. We’re definitely outsiders here and the looks and stares the girls get are quite amusing. It’s difficult to get by anyone without them touching the girls on the head or squeezing their cheeks. It’s flattering I must admit, and definitely serves as a good icebreaker for sometimes-difficult conversation. The markets on the streets are filled with all sorts of vendors, from knock-off shoes to roasted corn and fruit salad in plastic bags. Speaking of plastic bags, most of the shops where you get pop or juice here will empty your drink into a tiny plastic bag with a straw, to ensure they get their bottle return money. I must admit I felt a little strange walking down the street with a plastic bag full of pop. You get used to it though. School is going great, albeit difficult. After 5 hours of Spanish your brain kind of turns to mush and I have trouble speaking to anyone after school for at least an hour. The first weekend in Xela was good, we had dinner with all the students and teachers on Friday at a restaurant downtown and a few of us went out to have some beers after. I came home, helped Shona put the girls to bed and went to meet up with them. On Saturday night I had the pleasure of attending a Xela football (soccer) match at the town stadium. There was bunch of students, along with the director Flory that went to the game. It was great. We got there really early and 3 of us decided to go and have a bite to eat and a beer. We ended up at a restaurant called “Super Chivos” which was in fact the clubhouse for the Xela team, “The Super Chivos”. Anthony (Another Student) and I had bought some cheap jerseys and we were greeted with applause as the “Gringos” came in with jerseys on. One of the other fans actually bought us beer and we happily ate and chatted away until realizing that the game was starting in 5 minutes. We booked it back to the stadium and made it just in time for the fanfare of fireworks, cheering and music from the many impromptu bands around the stadium seats. It was a great game, not only for the play but also for the enthusiasm of the fans, even after the 2 - 2 tie. Most of us went out for a beer after the game and I actually ended up playing at a little bar not that far from the stadium. It was fun, and after finally getting off stage it was pretty much time to go home.

I’ve got two more gigs this week, one at a Bar/Restaurant called Royal Paris and the other at a really cool bar called Ojala. The woman that we’re staying with Barbara knows a lot of people around Xela and within 2 phone calls -both with me speaking broken English- I had 2 gigs. Not bad for only a week I guess.

Anyways, Me Gusta Xela and though school is difficult, it’s very interesting learning a new language and culture. My Spanish is getting better day by day and Freja has been speaking a little here and there, even without our encouragement. Pretty neat.

Now that we have Internet it should be a little easier to write in the blog and upload some pictures, so stay tuned. Adios, mi amigos.

November 6th.

We’ve made it to Guatemala, finally. We arrived on November 4th at around 6pm, and went straight to the school “La Democracia” to get set up with our family and have a well-needed rest. If you’re the perceptive type, you may be wondering why we arrived in Guatemala on November 4th when the last message was on November 2nd saying goodbye to Mexico. Well let me explain.

We left Arrigia fairly early in the morning, not having to repack the van was quite helpful in speeding up the morning rituals, and after a couple showers (cold) and dressing the babies we were off. We stopped to get gas, a couple tacos from a roadside stand and we hit the road towards Tapachula, where we planned to do our border crossing into Guatemala. It was a fairly simple drive, some good roads, and some bad, still a lot of speed bumps. As we were approaching Tapachula, around 70km outside of the town, about 5 guys wearing very unofficial badges waved us down. In broken English they tried to explain that we needed to take one of them to the border in Guatemala to help with our crossing. We were warned about these helpers in a few of our books, which said to pick one and let them guide you through the border crossing process. We had planned on picking one, but there was know way we were going to cram him into the van for 70km, when we were quite certain there would be plenty more at the border. We weren’t disappointed, well actually we were but more on that in a bit.

So we pull into Tapachula where we had decided to do a few last minute things before crossing into Guatemala. We needed to stop at a bank to take out some cash for the border crossing and hopefully get some Quetzales (Guatemalan currency). We got lost in the city, and decided to just get some money when we entered Guatemala. Our first bad idea. So we filled up with gas and headed toward the small border town of Talisman, about 11km’s away. As we approached the border there were more kids with badges telling us to stop, we had learned our lesson and kept on driving. Finally one guy approached the van and looked fairly honest, so I told him to hop on the back and we’d go to the border. We had our helper, sort of. Anyways, we pulled up to the border and the van was surrounded by at least 15 guys, all trying to help in some way. There were guys trying to sell us Quetzales, guys trying to tell us where to go, it was extremely confusing. Especially between the broken English and Spanish. I finally got out of the van and went to the “Aduana” (immigration) with our passports, the temporary vehicle permit and our Mexican tourist visas. First stop was to hand in our tourist visas and get the Mexican Exit stamp. The guy doing that job only took my passport and visa and gave the passport a stamp and on I went. Now to try and find where I could cancel our vehicle permit, necessary to do if you want to enter Mexico with any vehicle ever again. No one seemed to know what to do with it. Until finally I talked to one lady and she said that I needed to back into town and find the Banjercito to cancel it. She explained the directions in Spanish and drew me a very basic map. Keep track everyone, this is map #1. So after shooing everyone away from the van we headed back to Tapachula to find the Banjercito. Within 30 minutes we were lost and stopped at a little convenience store to get our bearing and ask for more directions. The girls were also starving at this point; stupid us spent all our Pesos because we thought we wouldn’t need them. We scrounged up enough for a bag of chips and Shona went to talk to one of the cab drivers for directions. This is where we secured Map # 2.

After about 10 minutes of map drawing and conversation we were on our way once again. Six sets of lights, a right turn at an Italian coffee house, two more sets of lights and we were there. After about the 7th set of lights and no coffee house, we were lost in the midst of downtown Tapachula again. It was getting later in the afternoon, the sun was beating down and I was nearing the end of my Mexican driving rope. We took a few more turns and found a bank by chance, yes. Parking in the lot of an OXXO (Mexican equivalent of 7 Eleven, I got out of the van, ran into the OXXO tried to buy something to validate my parking in their lot, they didn’t take cards and I said I’d go to the bank and come back. With my parking space justified with a valid excuse, I ran across the busy narrow street to Bank # 1. Now I’ve spent many an hour of my life waiting in line-ups, but upon entering this bank I soon realized what it was like for my Mum to camp overnight for Rod Stewart tickets in the 80’s. Wow. My patience lasted all of 10 minutes without moving and I was running across the street to another bank. This one was a little more promising, no line-ups, friendly looking tellers; we may make it to Guatemala after all. I waited my turn, got called up to the teller and proudly held my vehicle import papers aloft. This gesture was greeted by one similar to that which I’m certain future inhabitants of this planet will have when they come across an automatic paper towel dispenser, I hope for their sake they don’t try and change the roll as it may decrease evolution 10 fold. Anyways I was in the wrong bank, it was specifically a Banjercito that needed to cancel these papers. Great. By this point it was 2:30pm and looking very doubtful that we would make it across the border. But for some reason, out of some deep-seated need for more humiliation and frustration, I asked for Map #3.

“Derecho, Derecho, Derecho!” Said the woman behind the counter while pointing her hand right. Now the funny thing about Spanish is that “Derecho” not only means straight, but right as well. I got from the hand gestures that she meant straight and off we went again, to first try and back out of our space onto a busy street, and then find this Banjercito that seemed more elusive than the Quetzal itself. We went straight, and straight and straight and we were about to throw in the towel when alas on our right a sign... BANJERCITO! Our hearts leapt with joy, our tired eyes awoke and we jumped out of the van, unpacked the girls and started to lock up when were approached by a security guard...

“Ustedes Usar Cajero Automatico?”

No we need to go into the bank and cancel this, and once again I held the stupid piece of paper up. The guard then proceeded to tell us that this branch closes at 3:00pm; it was now about 5 minutes after three. Here’s where I lost the plot. One more time, is there anywhere to get rid of this damn piece of paper. He gave us directions to one more bank and we started driving to it when we passed a Comfort Inn. It was about 3 minutes away from the bank; if I kept driving I don’t necessarily think that I would be here to write this. We pulled a U-Turn and checked in for the night. Internet, Pizza for dinner, a good rest followed by a continental breakfast then the Bank in the morning. If all went according to planned we could be in Xela by noon.

Which brings me to Map # 4. I left Shona and Eir at breakfast and took Freja for a walk to the Banjercito to finally cancel this stupid vehicle permit. I walked into the bank, there was no line-up and I went straight to the teller and handed over the blue piece of paper that has been the thorn in our side for the last 24 hours. You can imagine how much my heart sank when the lady behind the till said I needed to go to the Aduana Banjercito, just outside of town. Seriously, I think we had wasted a tank of gas by this point, both Shona and I had increased the amount of grey hairs on our head by 100% and we’d spent the last evening sleeping in a hotel across from the wrong bank. So Map #4 comes out. I brought the offending hand drawn illustration of Tapachula back to Shona and we packed up the van in a hurry, anticipating that we’d get lost again and headed off. I dropped the keys of and for one more clarification asked the hotel desk clerk where the Banjercito was. AHA! A real map with a highlighted route was handed to me. Yes! There was no way to fail this time. Full of confidence and zeal we headed towards the outskirts of town. A few wrong turns, and a couple close calls and we made it. It pains me to mention that we passed it the day before on our way into Tapachula. But water under the bridge I guess, or the many bridges that were scribbled onto scrap pieces of paper for us.

So it was one quick swoop, the permit was canceled, the agent took the sticker off our car and we were free from Mexico’s grasp. Almost. We hightailed it to a bank to change some money and headed for the border once again. Not ready to deal with the onslaught of “Helpers” that were about to bombard our vehicle; I took the first guy that approached the vehicle. Mistake. He jumped on the back and we were ready to cross the border.

First stop, getting our passports stamped. He whisked me out of the van and went to immigration. 30 Quetzales and we were all stamped and allowed to be in Guatemala for 90 days. Next stop, getting photocopies of our documents. I tried to tell him that I already had photocopies but he insisted to go over to this little shop and get it done. That is when alarm bells started going off. By this point I had an entourage of at least 9 guys following me around and I must say it was a little worrying. One person was trying to sell me Quetzales (the local currency), one was just asking for money and the others were just watching and occasionally laughing. My guard was up at this point and I just wanted to our documents back, get back to the van and continue the process. Our “Helper” told me that we would need to give him 650 Quetzales to import the vehicle in Guatemala. I insisted on going up to the office with him and getting receipts for all transactions. You could tell he was getting a little upset about this and would leave and come back 5 or 6 times while we were waiting in line to get our car fumigated, every time with a different friend wearing a fake uniform and insisting that we pay the 650 Quetzales. We had looked in a few of our books and in all of them it said that we should only have to pay 40 Quetzales for importing the vehicle. Then we saw a sign, which read something like... “All Immigration processes are free, don’t promote corruption”. Then I started to get really pissed off. It’s extremely hot in the van, the girls are sitting in a pool of sweat, we’re all hungry and this guy is trying to rip me off. I got out of the car myself, paid for the fumigation and went to the tourist information followed by 2 different helpers. The first guy had obviously realized I was pissed and pawned his friend off on me. Got the receipt to pay the bank for our permit, went to the bank and paid for the permit, all the while still being followed around. I gave the two guys 5 Quetzales each ($0.15) and basically told them to get lost. The one whose friend was initially helping us was demanding the $5 originally promised to his buddy. I basically told him to screw off and he listened.

We got our permit, sticker on the window and drove into Guatemala. It was about 2:30pm by this point and I was a little worried about driving at night. First stop we made was a gas station, filled up and went off. Now, if I thought Mexican roads were bad, I was wrong. Not only were there tons of potholes strewn about the road, the highway from the border to Xela must climb at least 4000 meters into the mountains. When I say climb I mean climb. We were basically stuck in 1st gear the whole way. I stalled once and got stuck in a pothole right after a blind corner. Scary. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of rolling backwards in a stalled VW down a blind corner with no guardrails and a 2500m-drop, but I wouldn’t recommend it. We got the van going and continued on. The first big town we would drive through was called San Marcos. It was here that we would notice something funny with the van. Upon coming to our first stop in the city, the van stalled. And every subsequent time we would rev low or I would be in Neutral the van would stall. Basically it was acting as if it was out of gas. Bad news. That usually means you got some bad gas in their, and their isn’t much unleaded gas in Guatemala. So we deduced that it must of been the gas we got near the Guatemalan border. Not only that but we were lost in San Marcos, having missed a turn for Xela somewhere along the way. I unknowingly made a wrong turn down a one-way street and we found ourselves, stalled parked halfway into the road on a one-way street. Yikes. We asked someone where the road to Xela was and got haphazard directions. A friendly passerby helped us back out of the one way into a busy intersection and after a few stalls, we were going blindly down a narrow street, trying desperately to keep the van revved high so we wouldn’t stall. Not an easy task when there are pedestrians jumping in front of you and cars blaring horns everywhere down a street obviously built for horses and pedestrians and not VW vans. So we went with our gut instincts and finally found the road to Xela. It was getting late and I definitely didn’t want to get stuck on these roads at night. More crazy roads, an hour and a half later and we made it to our home for a month. We were warmly greeted by our host at the school Flory, had some food and were taken to meet our host family. We are staying with a lovely Woman named Barbera, her mother and her daughter. We have 2 rooms at our disposal and the house is great. The school is great, I am in fact writing this from the downstairs lobby of the school while Shona is in class number three. The way it’s going to work for us here is that Shona is in class from 8am - 1pm and I watch the girls. My classes are from 2pm - 7pm and then I go home for dinner. So far so good. It’s nice to be able to spend some time with the girls and this is day #3 of Spanish school for both of us. It’s tough, but really nice to get the brain going. I should be off; the girls are terrorizing the place and are most likely needing a nap. We should be getting wireless in our home stay house in the next few days, so keeping in contact should be easier for the month or so that we’re here.

I finished this blog a day after I started it, so as it stands, it’s now November 7th. hope you’re all well, wherever you are. Much love from all of us.

October 31st, 2008

Well, I’m not going to be able to upload this blog until we find an internet connection, but that doesn’t mean I can’t write it. We had a lovely morning in Melaque, though we probably could have used the extra hours we spent chatting to our wonderful neighbours on the road. It was nice to get a chance to talk to some fellow Canadians, and they were generous enough to give us a bit of hose to help with our water siphoning. So if you are reading this guys, thanks a lot. We had breakfast at the place we were recommended for dinner, Senor Froy’s. The food was fantastic and the owner was great, his wife played with Eir the whole time we were at the restaurant, both enjoying each others company equally I think. Heuvos Rancheros, Pancakes and a bacon omelette, all very tasty and I would highly recommend a visit if you ever find yourself nearby. So we got a late start to our day of driving, which would wind us up doing a little Mexican night driving which does not come highly recommended. These roads were intense, if you wanted proof all you needed to do was look at all the skid marks in the pavement. Some of which were coming from the poor Californian ahead of us desperately trying to keep his trailer from pushing him down the hill into the semi ahead. So yes, Dora was shredding it up in the mountain roads of Mexico, Shona was looking green in the backseat and Freja was up front enjoying all the donkeys and cows we passed by. There were moments of sheer beauty, but most of those were accompanied by sheer cliffs with no guard rails on the side. Mum, if you’re reading, stop shaking, it’s okay. This stretch of highway also did not have a variety of options for gas and we found ourselves cutting it close again, but thankfully 50 kilometers out of our destination there was a PEMEX (Mexican Gas Company) oasis and we all breathed a sigh of relief. We filled up here, the gas station attendant saw Eir in the back and immediately started taking her out of her car seat to show her off to her coworker at the other pump. They giggled and played while Mum went inside to get a couple snacks to tide us over until dinner. We haven’t been eating that well on the road, as our time is limited with not being able to drive at night and all. So chips and junk food for lunch and usually a good dinner. We could probably make it work a bit better if we had a little more time, but we’re cutting it real close to get to Guatemala in time for Spanish school. Anyway, I digress. So, our destination for last evening was a little beachside town called Playa Azul. We pulled into the town after dark, which always makes it that much more difficult to find our preferred camping destination, even more so when we’re still not 100% comfortable with our Spanish. After a few directions and a few missed turns we made it to the Hotel Playa Azul, which according to our guidebook had a few camping spots with hookups out back. It did. Nothing to write home about though, a caged in parking lot, some bathrooms I would try to avoid and a few palm trees. It would do. Famished after our diet of mostly chips and raisins we headed to the restaurant to get some food. We screwed up fairly bad in Sayulita and didn’t take out enough cash to last the night. The last of it was spent on toll roads and the half tank of emergency gas. Luckily the hotel would take a credit card for the room, which was a life saver. What we didn’t realize is that they couldn’t for our meal. We didn’t realize this until we’d eaten our meal (which consisted of 3 sub-par hamburgers), and wanted to pay for it. Oops. After a search around town for a bank and some sort of Spanglish communication we worked out that we would go to a bank and pay in the morning. Off to bed we went and woke up the next morning, got packed up and headed for a bank. The nearest bank was quite a distance and by the time we got there and back (about 2 hours), we were hungry again and had breakfast. Yay, another late start.

Anyway we ate and hit the road, which was much easier to drive than the last stretch so we made fairly good time. We arrived at our campground just outside Aculpoco at sunset and got settled in. The owner brought us some food from the restaurant and filled up the little mini-pool so Freja and Eir could have a splash around. The food was great, the Ocean is right at our doorstep and we even got to eat fresh coconut that the guard cut open for us. A little pricey, but $47 for a place to stay with our own private wading pool and 3 meals isn’t that bad I guess. So it’s here that I leave you about 8km's outside of the first major tourist town in Mexico. The ocean is really rough here and the waves are almost shaking the van. Very cool. Buenos Noche mi amigo’s.


November 1st and 2nd. Los Dias de la Mortes

No internet again today. We did try to find a cafe this morning but being a national holiday, everything was closed. It’s The Day of The Dead today. For those of you unfamiliar, it’s a celebration with origins in the Mayan Belief that on or near this day, the dead could walk with the living. So Mexicans have been adorning there friends and families tombs with all sorts of decorations, though most have a specific orange flower, I’m not sure what kind it is or the meaning behind it, but if it’s not on graves it’s piled high on vehicles or being sold at the many roadside stands. Some go party at the graves, pouring tequila to their fallen comrades and some go and weep. It’s quite the deal. Anyway, back to how we got where we are right now, which is a hotel room in the area of Mexico called Chiapas.

We awoke in our campground just outside Aculpoco to find that our garbage had again been ravaged by dogs. Every night that we leave our garbage hanging from the van, you can guarantee that it will be strewn all our the campsite by morning. So we got up, cleaned up the rogue animals handiwork and did our daily pack the van routine and headed off to find some groceries. We bypassed Aculpoco, not really being interested in putting up with the tourist traffic which we were told one could get stuck in for 3 hours. Not exactly what we were looking for in 30 Degree heat. I’m not going to tell you where we ended up getting our groceries, I’ll leave it up to your imagination. Just know that I didn’t for a moment feel proud of it. They did have a good organics selection though, which seems to be difficult to find in these parts. Mostly because they’re all sent up to Canada and The States. So packed up with groceries we set off for Puerto Escondido which translates as “The Hidden Port”. It was during this drive I should have learned the lesson that could have saved us today, and that lesson is don’t trust a CAA/AAA Map. According to our AAA map of Mexico, the area we were travelling through was...

Not Safe
Very Difficult to Get Unleaded Gas In.

As for the not safe part, it seemed like everyone in town as we drove through would honk, wave or give us the peace sign, so it seemed pretty friendly and safe to me. And there was a gas station every half an hour, so I began to feel a bit neurotic filling up every time I saw the PEMEX logo. The gas operators would look at me funny to as I say fill the tank in horrible Spanish only to put 3 litres in it. Oh well I should have learned my lesson about that stupid map, but we didn’t. More on that later.

It was a long hot drive though. Lots of “Topes” which I believe the English translation is something along the lines of “Annoying Giant Bumps that Seem to Pop Out of Nowhere While You’re Travelling at 80 km’s an Hour and Your Wife is In the Back Yelling at You for Hitting Them When She Doesn’t Have Her Seatbelt on Like You Could Somehow Have Magic, Psychic Powers and See The Invisible Humps and Warn Her So That She Could Somehow Brace Herself”. Though I might be a little off. This drive also had many animals on the road, as it was a farming and cattle grazing area. Kind of surreal to see cattle grazing next to palm trees for a prairie boy. We had our first full on military check, in which I had to get out and show them around the van. In all honesty though I think the guy just wanted to show off his english skills and his buddy was more interested in how much I paid for my tattoo. He was floored when I said $80 because I think he thought that I meant 80 Pesos which would be $8. After our little stop, we soldiered on (Pun Intended) and beside one more embarrassing stall as I was reaching out to give change to some girls collecting for their school, it was good. We did have to do a bit of night driving though, which was rewarded in the end by the hospitality and friendliness of fellow Canadians, Paul & Kim who have just taken over the trailer park in Puerto Escondido. We felt welcome from the moment we pulled in until leaving the next morning. We spent the night chatting away, swapping stories and drinking the Mescal that I got pressured into buying at a local shop. A really beautiful night. We made fairly good time getting ready in the morning and after an unsuccessful search for some internet connections we were on our way towards the Guatemala border. This road had less topes, but definitely more drama. Everything was going fairly smooth until we hit the city of Juchitan. It was here that we started falling apart at 4pm. We took a turn and then thought that we were wrong so went back into town to go the other direction. That direction took us down some very narrow, one way city streets that looked like an earthquake had hit and after a while of that, turned around again to try another direction By this time I was getting antsy as I did not want to drive at night again. So tempers flared, directions were lost and it wasn’t until 5pm that we realized the first road we took was actually the right one, had we only waited another 5kms.

It got worse. The sun went down quick and we found ourselves doing the one thing all the guidebooks we have agree on and that is, Never Drive at Night. I now understand why. We came to a crossroads and took an exit that was very badly lit and hard to understand. It was here that I started stressing out. Pitch Black, Winding Mountain Road in the narrowest bit of Mexico that is notorious for a constant 50/mph wind. Yikes. After passing a fallen tree, getting passed by double trailered Semi’s and winding through a barricade on a bridge under repair I noticed that our destination wasn’t on one of the signs I passed. I immediately called out the names to my co-pilot in the back and we discovered that we on the wrong road. So we stopped at the next town and asked the gas station attendant, well more like told him, “We’re Lost”.

It was then we figured out that we should have taken the other exit some 30 kms back. Now I know to some of you, 30 km isn’t that far. But when you are driving a VW bus with two screaming babies, wind gusts, blowing you off the road and donkeys, cows and horses on the side of the road, 30 km is far. Very far. So we turned around at around 7:30pm and headed back to our missed exit. It was another treacherous drive, but we finally made it. Exhausted, Hungry and really needing a beer. We decided instead of pulling everything out of the van we would get a cheap motel room and get a real early start tomorrow for the border. $30 for the room, and $15 for food and beer. Which leads me to right now. Food is finished, there is one more sip of beer left and everyone is sleeping. So that’s where I’m going to go. But before I do, I’d like to say, “Muchos Gracious Mexico, Me Gusta Tu!”

Until next time....

For Photos Visit..

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=68317&l=c66c6&id=516192577

It was time to say adios to our little haven in Sayulita. We spent a beautiful few days there. I really really loved it there and felt for the first time on this trip that i was on holiday. A wonderful mix of locals and surfers and cute little streets lined with interesting shops set in paradise. Inevitably though when somewhere like this becomes "trendy" the prices go up. So it was a bit of a shock when we went out for dinner to a little place on the beach the first night to find them charging around $20 American for a main course!

We aimed to get to Playa Azul by sunset today. Our lay over has meant we are cutting it close to get to Guatamala in time for school starting on 3rd Nov. On the map Playa Azul is around 600 kms from Saylita so we thought a big day of driving, somewhere around the 7 or 8 hour mark and we'd get there. Ha ha. That was until we drove along the coastal 200 road!

First we had to deal with getting through Puerta Vallarta. A giant tourist town, complete with giant cruise ships docked in the harbour and a crazy beachfront promenade. Of course it was here that Matty stalled the engine as we crested a narrow hill - and Dora decided she didn't want to go again! Nightmare. Horns furiously peeping at us, Spanish expletives thrown our way, and 2 hot and restless screaming babies in the back....it wasn't pretty. But the old solar boost trick worked again and we were back on our way in just a few minutes. We think its just the intense heat that's upsetting Dora.
So it took us about an hour to get from one side of PV to the other and as we climbed the hill on the way out of tourist central the stark contrasts were once again evident. We passed the swanky cliff top hotels and condos and luxury holiday homes with high end cars parked outside and once again within a few hundred meters we passed the locals' little village nestled on the edge of the city. Their one room brick homes, laundry draped outside in the baking sun, people wandering along the street having just gone to collect water, dogs barking, a few chicken scratching in the dirt, a horse tethered by the side of the shacks.....do the fly/sail in tourists even know this side of Mexico exists? Do they really want to come to Mexico to experience Mexico? Or do they just want to come to the sun, get somewhing of a wishy washy idea in their head about what Mexico and her people must be like based on what they see in downtown anywhere tourist city? A sanitised view of a wonderfully rich culture being eroded by just that. I suppose its the same everywhere. I've been to enough foreign cultures to know that a lot of holiday makers don't care what used to be standing on the site of their hotel on the beach or the restaurant that'll make them bacon and eggs for breakfast everyday, which ever country they are visiting.
Well enough of that, it upsets me. So the road down the west coast of Mexico - the 200 - isn't exactly going to make it easy for us to zip on down to Guatamala. It took us around 5 1/2 hrs to get to Malaque, which is about 5 hours north of where we were aiming for! Although we did lose an hour to a time zone change. (We're now on Central time.) Long and (very) winding, and up and down hills and full of topes (potholes). Instead of fixing them they tend to just put up some signs to warn you of their existence, although we did see some guys working on fixing a few along our way today.
Malaque is a cute little seaside town and once again we are parked up looking right out onto the ocean. The waves here are pretty thunderous when they break on the beach. Matty went for a quick dip to cool off his sunburned shoulders when we arrived and on his return said there'd been a few hairy moments when he'd been taken by surprise by their ferocity.
Freja and Eir made their way around the campsite introducing themselves. We're surrounded on all sides by fellow Canadians. Alberta, BC and Quebecers are all here. It seems that a fair amount of Canada does migrate south for the winter.
We went for a walk to find some food but most places were closed already. The ones by the water front are as usual over priced so instead we found a family run taco place where we all wolfed down chicken tacos utnil we were stuffed. We suddenly realised we hadn't eaten since breakfast time. Delicious - her homemade chili and tomatina sauces were amazing. 8 Tacos and a giant glass of coconut water between the four of us for $58 pesos......less than $6 American, now that's more like it!
Well Playa Azul is the aim for tomorrow......after a breakfast of bacon and eggs at Mr Tony's?.....haha