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.