A Year In Motion

Our hearts were beating fast as we came into land in Tegucigalpa. Ninfa was excited to be seeing her family in a few moments. As much as I tried to be too, I was primarily concerned with surviving the nerve-wracking landing into Toncontin airport, the world’s second most dangerous airport. As it was, we touched down, and we did something we don’t normally do, give the captain a round of applause for a safe landing. The sun was high in the sky and a blast of heat greeted us as we walked across the tarmac before walking out through the terminal doors and receiving another warm Honduran welcome from Ninfa’s parents, Fafa and Ada. It was one o’clock and the party was just about to start at Ninfa’s grandparents so we jumped into Fafa’s paila (pick-up truck) and heeded straight there and into the throes of a typical Honduran family gathering of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and then some. One of my fondest memories from my first visit to Honduras last year, was that Mama Ninfa, Ninfa’s grandmother, a fabulous lady and truly one of a kind, would let no opportunity be wasted to have guests over and enjoy some music, Honduran style. Today was no different, and shortly after settling into our seats in the shade overlooking the garden and Tegucigalpa, a troupe of musicians, a Honduran Piporro, stepped out and began to serenade us with some of my favorite songs which up until now had formed the basis of over half of my Spanish vocabulary. The Piporro, the leader of the troupe, was a large presence to say the least, his stomach bursting through his shirt, and his thick fingers pounding frantically on his accordion as he sang songs like stories, backed by a chorus of guitar-plucking piqueteros (fancy looking fellas), and a father and son brass section, and intermittent interventions from myself and Fafa. The Piporro gave us his card as he was leaving, which listed their phone numbers and their business address: “outside McDonalds, Boulevard Francisco Morazan, Tegucigalpa”.

Despite having spent four weeks in Honduras the previous Christmas, I hadn’t really spent a lot of time around the city, and I wanted to get a good look at the capital. No sooner had I mentioned this, than Fafa offered to be my guide, and a couple of days later, we were off again in the paila with camera in hand to see the sights of Tegucigalpa. A common theme in a lot of Latin American cities is heavy traffic, and Tegucigalpa is no different, but we snaked our way through unpaved multicolored side-streets in residential areas where the graffiti from last year’s coup d’etat is slowly fading on the walls, past women heating tortillas and baleadas calientitas on street corners, across bridges lined with stalls and Stetson-wearing locals, and through markets selling fresh fruit and Christmas decorations. Tegucigalpa’s parks and colonial heritage are not as well maintained as those of Santo Domingo, but there are some beautiful scenes nonetheless in this hilly city.

One of Tegucigalpa’s lesser touristed attractions is the airport. As Fafa always says, “What’s the Chinese word for airport? Ton-con-tin!” Toncontin is Tegucigalpa’s airport right in the heart of the city. With a short runway and surrounded by mountain’s on all sides, it’s not for everyone. Watching a plane landing from the ground is a much more enjoyable exercise than sitting inside the plane, although it has plenty of excitement as well. Fafa knew a little road that took us right out at the start of the runway, and we went there one afternoon to watch the plane’s come in. We were able to watch them approach the city and fly right over the runway. Once inside the ring of mountains that surround Tegucigalpa, the airplane does a complete 360 degree turn around the inner edge of the mountains, before swerving around and straightening at the last moment, right above our heads, before touching down and slamming on the brakes. By far the largest aircraft to land at Toncontin is the American Airlines flight from Miami. After having watched two or three planes land, Fafa and I headed off to a local bar for a quick beer and a snack of grilled chicken, when we heard the AA flight flying over and landing. We had missed it, but managed to enjoy the beers and the chicken anyway, and promised to return another day. And it was worth it. The day we returned, the AA jet circled around and seemed to be heading straight for us, before straightening and landing safely on the runway. The size and speed of the jet was not lost on us as soundwaves continued to lash around us like lashes of whips for about 15 seconds after it passed over. Not the usual anorak planespotting activity.

A Honduran Christmas is filled with family gatherings, but we enjoyed a couple of night’s out on the town. The first was with Fafa who invited Ninfa and I to a martial arts fight night in one of the nightclubs in a newly developed part of the city centre. The action was fast and furious as was the rum-drinking (and eventually gambling) around the ring. I woke up with a sore head and shy a few hefty IOU’s the following morning. Another night we met up with Hernan and his wife Natalie, and went to the Mariachi and Piporro lined Boulevard Morazan to enjoy a typical Honduran evening out. Hernan played a pivotal role in how Ninfa and I met, as he was in Dublin visiting his cousin (a friend of mine) when Ninfa, who was traveling in Europe at the time, decided to come along and meet him, and eventually me, and the rest is history. We had a great time, despite the fact that both Natalie and I had to respect the self-imposed rule of only speaking Spanish for the whole night. Funny how rum seems to make it easier – they don’t teach that at school!

In a Christian-dominated society, it was a little surprising to discover that what Hondurans worship most on Sundays is grilled meat. Alas the false god of barbecue Sundays is a temptation not worth resisting. We spent two Sundays as guests of Jorge and Taty, and then Javier Tovar, in the scenic Valle de Angeles, a little over half an hour outside Tegucigalpa. Set among hills covered in pine trees, Valle de Angeles is a well-preserved, sleepy, little colonial town that is well worth a day trip from the capital. Sunday is the day to visit, and if you haven’t had your fill of grilled meat, there are numerous stands along the road that are filled with capitalinos enjoying grilled corn, pupusas and a cerveza or two. It’s a little higher than Tegucigalpa and the cool mountain air was the closest we were getting to snow this Christmas.

But most of all Christmas was spent in Tegucigalpa with Ninfa’s family. We got to see the Batruny’s again (plus Martita this time), and spend time playing games, singing karaoke and eating loads with Ninfita, Maria Stefania, Salva, as well as all the aunt’s and uncles during the festivities at Mama Ninfa and Papa Victor’s. And while Ninfa’s grandparents on her father’s side, Mama Negus and Papi Salva, had gone to Santo Domingo, we had a great night of chicharron and pastelitos de perro (dog cakes, but not dog meat!) with Gaby, Conrado, Gaby, Tato and Paulina, not to mention drinks with Ina, Roberto and family at their place. No, Honduras doesn’t do small family gatherings. Everyone was keen to feed us well after 9 months on the road and we were settling into a pleasant rhythm of breakfast in bed, lunches at Mama Ninfa’s and evenings eating tortilla soup and playing video games with Victorcito, or gambling (for pride) with Victoria and sharing nerves about wisdom teeth extractions with Loris Gabriella (hope you’re smiling again!). But arguably, the people Ninfa was most pleased to see aren’t actually people at all, and they were just as pleased to see her too. Four chihuahuas, one labrador, and one big cuddly crossbreed, Takito, Mingy, Figurin, Dos Veinte, Carmela and Lola were the object of copious amounts of affection and doggy treat throughout the holidays.

There are a few specific traditions that are respected in a Honduran family Christmas. The first is that Christmas dinner is served at midnight on Christmas Eve, and although it’s not our usual dining time, it went down a treat. And a New Year’s tradition that we had to observe (for the third year running) was that of sporting our luggage (not for the first time this year) and running around the block, which is a superstition which is supposed to promise the bearer a new year full of travel and adventure – it worked last year!

Other than celebrating Christmas, Ninfa and I had high aspirations of planning the last three months of our trip which would take us around South America. Alas, following postponement after postponement, there we were with only five days left in our stay and all we had were a couple of visas, and precious little else. Probably because Ninfa was too busy spoiling the dogs, and I was too busy watching football and teaching Victorcito a thing or two on the Wii. For news of what we finally planned, and how we got on our on weekend on the south coast of Honduras, check out our next post.

So belatedly, from Honduras, Happy New Year 2011! And muchas gracias to all Ninfa’s family, and everyone we had the pleasure to spend a great Christmas and New Year with in Honduras. Viva!

PS Check out more of Tegucigalpa from our photos here.

Our flight to Santo Domingo from Miami was delayed due to the reason that probably delays most flights in the Carribbean – the fact that each passenger carries at least two pieces of hand luggage and the cabin crew spend about half an hour running around trying to fit them all in the plane. There are bags everywhere – it’s the nearest thing we’ve had to travelling in a bus in Africa – but no-one really seems in a rush and everyone’s in good humour. Welcome to the Carribbean!

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We arrived into a humid and dull Santo Domingo to be met at the airport by Jacobo, Ninfa’s aunt’s husband. Ninfa’s aunt Mari and family live in Santo Domingo and we were going to spend a week seeing them and some of the sights of the Dominican Republic. One of the first things to hit us was the traffic in Santo Domingo. Ok, it was Christmas and everything is busier than usual but Santo Domingo traffic is bumper to bumper with a blatant disregard for any semblance of respect for the rules of the road. One day we were in the car with our driver Robinson when he decided to take a shortcut by driving up a one-way street the wrong way. We were half-way down the street when we met the police coming the other way – surely a guaranteed ticket or a fine perhaps, but in Santo Domingo, not even a second look.

On our first day out and about in Santo Domingo, we visited the Zona Colonial, the oldest part of the city, and in fact the oldest part of any city in Latin America. You see Santo Domingo is where it all started. In 1492, Cristopher Columbus (Cristobal Colon) arrived in the New World, in what he thought were the Western islands of India. He christened the island Hispaniola in honour of his Spanish sponsors, and less than a year later he and his followers founded the city of Santo Domingo, today the capital of the Dominican Republic. The old city is home to Calle las Damas, the first city street ever to be built in the New World, and named for the ladies who used to promenade along it. Nearby is the Plaza de Espana, and the Alcazar de Colon which was home to Diego Colon, son of Christopher. Through this old city passed the most famous and infamous of the Spanish conquistadors on their way to conqer and pillage the indigenous populations of Latin America – Cortes, Pisarro and many others once walked these same streets that are excellently preserved to this day.

In a way, the history of the Dominican Republic is like the everyman of Carribbean and Latin American history. Following on from Colombus came the slaves brought here to work the sugar cane plantations, after almost all of the indigenous people had died off from new diseases such as measles which decimated their numbers. As a result, today’s population of the Dominican Republic is dominated by “mulattos” of all colours between the blacks of Africa, the indigenous islanders and the whites of Spain – no two people in the Dominican Republic seem to be the same colour. Following the slaves came independence and in the 1930′s the tyrannous dictatorship of “El Jefe” Rafael Trujillo who ruled the country for 30 years, commanding a brutal regime of oppression and self-interest where any opposition was silenced indefinitely by murder. His regime was finally brought to an end when he was no longer of use to the USA, and he was shot down in an assassination planned by the CIA. And finally, the Dominican Republic is home to the exiled president of Honduras, Mel Zelaya, overthrown in 2009 by a military coup d’etat. As far as I can see, in terms of the history of Latin America in the last 500 years, the Dominican Republic just about has a piece of every chapter.

And the sense of history pervading the colonial district of the city is perhaps what makes it so enjoyable. The area itself is very safe and the Dominicans around are a friendly bunch, every now and then looking up from a game of dominoes to invite you to play or to exchange a few friendly words. The buildings are beautiful and painted in all the bright pastel shades that seem to come alive under the tropical sunshine. The area is full of character typified by the numerous “colmados” which are cornershop and bar combined, with merengue booming from speakers, shelfs lined with Ron Brugal Extra Viejo, and cool Presidente beers in jumbo bottles and paper bags. We liked it so much that we spent two days just strolling around and taking it all in, as well as a night tour with Jacobo through the atmospheric low-lit streets.

Some of the other sights we took in were the nearby Faro de Colon. We expected a lighthouse (that’s what faro means) but in fact it is a huge concrete monstrosity built in the shape of a cross, and which claims to house the remains of Christopher Columbus himself (although the cathedral of Seville will debate this). The monument seems to commemorate Columbus’ discovery of the Americas (and just why this should be commemorated is a highly dubious issue in Ninfa’s opinion), but especially his introduction of Christianity. One of the sides of the monument is covered with a marble inscription of a blessing by Pope John Paul II which he made on his visit here. Other than Columbus’ tomb, the monument contains a vaguely interesting exhibition on all the countries of the Carribbean and the Americas.

Such a rich diversity of origins has produced one of the most musical and rhythmic societies in the Carribbean, and we enjoyed two nights out in Santo Domingo after dark. The first was an invitation from Fernanda and Jacobo to the El Conuco restaurant which specialises in traditional Dominican cuisine and also features a lively dance show. The music doesn’t stop, and every hour a duo dance to merengue, bachata and salsa (which all sound quite the same to me) performing some dizzying moves and some impressive balance dancing one-footed on an empty bottle of rum. We tried a couple of dishes unique to Dominicana but we can’t say we’ll be in a rush to try mondongo (tripe soup) or sancocho (fish and meat stew) again any time soon, but it was great to try them once.

Our next night out was courtesy of an old friend of Ninfa’s called Abdes who works in Dominicana. He brought us out to the wrong side of the tracks, well river actually, on the east side of the city to the heaving Avenida Venezuela. The street is just one long line of bars, all packed to capacity. If there’s one thing that can get the laid back Dominicans excited, it’s a party! Similar to Miami, nobody ever really stands still in a bar, and most conversations are carried out over a beer and a few dance steps. Men parade the bars inviting women to dance, and once the music stops, they mostly bid farewell and dance with someone else. It’s like the Dominican form of chit-chat or small talk, but a lot more interesting. We did a bar crawl along the Avenida, each bar offering a small variation on each other but generally linked together by a common theme of lots of people, lots of loud music, lots of Presidente, lots of dancing and a lot of fun. Only one bar seemed a little risque than the others as it played reggaeton, to which the most conservative style of dance would be lucky to pass the censor into an over 18s film. But overall, the wrong side of the tracks was the perfect night out in Santo Domingo.

Other than its music, its rum and its history, the impressive Dominican Republic is famed for its beaches. Many people will already have heard of Punta Cana on the east Atlantic coast of Hispaniola. And there are numerous other beaches which have been developed around the island, but we headed north to what is reputed to be one of the world’s top ten beaches, Playa Rincon. Two hours north of Santo Domingo is Samana, which is situated at the mouth of the beautiful Bahia de los Haitises. Another 20km from there along a poor road is the turn-off to Playa Rincon. What follows is 15km of craters, bumps and slides along a mud and stone road until you reach the beach. All in all, approximately three hours drive later, is it worth it? Probably it is. What awaits is a three-to-four kilometre long beach, lined with tall palm trees, beautiful white sand, and, at one end, one or two shacks selling grilled fish. We shared the beach with about 15-20 others. At one end of the beach is a little river which flows into the sea and we set up camp there in the shade of a few palms, away from the hot sun but in full view of the bright blue sky. The view looking out from the beach is beautiful, with palm-covered hills stretching out into the distance on either side. We watched lazily at a fisherman wading through the water, before we took the plunge ourselves and cooled off in the water. At our feet we watched all sorts of colourful fish swimming around us, and this without even putting on our snorkels.

Alas we bid farewell to Playa Rincon. We would definitely recommend staying in the area for a few days to enjoy it to its fullest, but we had one important appointment to keep back in Santo Domingo. It was the 8th birthday of Ninfa’s cousin, our prima Maya, and the party was waiting for us to start. We got back around 7pm and headed straight for the big take-out pizza before singing happy birthday and feasting on some delicious strawberry sponge birthday cake. It was a great end to a great day, and definitely one of the highlights of the trip was being able to spend time with Ninfa’s cousins Fernanda, Maya, Jacobito and one-week old Fabianna! Our grateful thanks also to Mari and Jacobo for making our trip to the Dominican Republic something we look forward to savouring again soon!

Next stop Honduras, for Christmas and New Year, and hopefully getting back on track with our blog posts. Make sure you check out our picture of Playa Rincon and the Zona Colonial in Santo Domingo – both worth having a closer look!

After waving an emotional goodbye to my mother, and giving heartfelt thanks to the Batruny family for all their warm and generous hospitality, it was off to a unique experience on our round-the-world trip. Going on a cruise in the Caribbean was definitely Ninfa’s idea, and not long after setting foot on the huge ship in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, I was working hard to convince myself that I didn’t hate it. The guest profile on a cruise is significantly different from anywhere we have been travelling for the last 8 months. One of the largest segments is comprised of senior citizens. Add to that a few corporate groups getting “fired up” about work. But in my opinion, by far the largest group belongs to those who are here for as much free food as possible. As it turned out, there were a few here to just have a good time, and luckily we bumped into a few of those as well. According to our Cruise Director Mitch (who tried but failed to make a pair of gawdy white Louis Vuitton shoes look fashionable), there were over 200 people out of 2,000 on board who were at least on their 25th cruise, the prestigious Diamond Plus Level!

We had decided on the idea almost two months ago, and having looked at prices for weeks, we finally booked two days before our cruise departed, and in so doing made a huge saving on price. We were on board the Navigator of the Seas, owned by Royal Caribbean cruise and with a capacity of 2,000 guests and 1,000 staff, which took us from Fort Lauderdale, Florida across the Caribbean to Cozumel, an island off the coast of Mexico, and then back to Florida before our flight to the Dominican Republic. The boat itself is a monster, although not the biggest in the Royal Caribbean fleet. Up on deck, there’s the bridge and the pool, and even a short running track for all the zealous over-eaters to ponder but not attempt. Out back there’s a climbing wall, basketball court, and a mini-golf area. But the most impressive is probably the interior. On the fourth deck, the main promenade, you really get a sense of the size of the vessel carrying you, as up to six stories look down on the main shopping and cafe area. This is where the carol singing took place facing the huge Christmas tree, as well as the Captain’s address, and even the Captain’s meet and greet champagne reception. When he wasn’t busy meeting and greeting or navigating his ship, our captain even had to marry a couple on board in the cruise chapel on the 14th floor! There are also two theatres on board, a gym and spa, and a deck out front on the 6th deck where Ninfa had her Titanic moment – no there aren’t any icebergs in the Caribbean, but the moment from the movie at the front of the boat.

On a cruise, almost everything (excluding alcohol) is included in your price – full-board on board. That means free breakfast, free lunch, free dinner, and a free buffet open all day in-between. For a lot of people that’s enough – they spend the entire time eating as much food as possible determined to extract the greatest value for money regardless of actual hunger. It’s an easy trap to fall into – if you’re got a spare minute, just eat something! It’s been a challenge not to fall into the trap ourselves! Cruises are package tourism on sea. There’s a huge programme of events lined up every day ranging from dancing shows, ice-skating shows, and cultural highlights such as the international men’s belly-flop competition. I have to admit, I really enjoyed watching that. The whole thing runs like clockwork. There are two dinner seatings per evening – we had the latter at 8:30, with each person pre-allocated a table number with a group of other guests with whom we share our evening meal for the rest of the trip. Considering the guest profile, we got quite lucky, and shared our table with two Latin couples who were good fun to hang out with, as our final night in particular proved. Dress code is fixed at evening meals; our first night was casual, the next formal (black tie! – lucky I still had my suit from Marissa’s wedding), the next night a tropical theme, and the last night nobody knew anymore.

There is definitely a cruise culture, and conversation with any other guests on board invariably begins with “is this your first cruise?” We’ve met so many people who are Diamond members (mostly Floridians), meaning they’ve hit the magic 25, and for most of them holidays always have and always will equal cruise. Personally, if I reach 2, it will be a miracle, although Ninfa could potentially hit Diamond if given time. But that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy myself. On our outward journey, the highlight had to be the art auction. We merely went along for the free champagne, but ended up enthralled at the enthusiasm of Billy, the auctioneer, and in my opinion the gullibility of the people spending hundreds of dollars on prints (not originals) from artists I’ve never even heard of. Billy specialised in asking easy art questions like “who painted the Mona Lisa?” and then handing out trivia cards for prizes, all part of his successful technique to part customers with cash. But things really started looking up when we arrived on our stop in Cozumel, Mexico!

At dinner the evening after Cozumel, one of our witty fellow diners quipped that he found it very difficult to find a diamond shop in Cozumel. Cozumel is full of them! The main business of the town is obviously built on diamonds (and Diamond Level Plus!) and catering tequila, beer, (and hats made of balloons) for the thirsty mob of day-trippers. We were looking for some authentic Mexican food, so we decided to get off the beaten track a little and hit the side-streets looking for a nice cantina. We ended up finding one and enjoying a delicious lunch of tortilla soup, and chicken mole – chicken in a cocoa-flavoured sauce: delicious! It was on our way back from lunch that our day took a major turn. I couldn’t believe it when we were walking down a street and a girl screamed “Ninfa!” It turned out to be one of Ninfa’s old friends from Honduras, Nadia. She is working as, you guessed it, a diamond salesperson in Cozumel. Well, this was too much of a coincidence to let pass without a celebration. Cue three chairs, several Corona’s, and a few tequilas and loads of merriment as Ninfa and Nadia caught up on old times and repeatedly couldn’t believe the coincidence. It was drunken, and it was great fun!

When we had disembarked that morning, we had been told that we needed to be back on board the boat no later than 5:30pm. I assumed that this was like an airport check-in requirement – they tell you to be there 2 hours before, but 40 minutes is just fine. So we were quite relaxed as we bid our farewells to Nadia at 5:30pm. We got to the port 10 minutes later, and we heard the port security on the walkie-talkie with the boat, saying “the last two are here, should I let them through?” We answered that question for her, and started sprinting the 500m down the jetty to the boat. As we ran, the cruisers on board were cheering us along. The ship’s staff found it less than amusing, and scowled at us as they brought up the gangway straight after we boarded, and blacklisted us from ever achieving Diamond status. We had now achieved Navigator of the Seas fame and infamy, and from then on, random strangers would say hi, and even ask for our autograph (just kidding).

The rest of the cruise was spent playing table quizzes and mini-golf, shuffleboard on the side-decks in the afternoons, and going to the cruise game shows at night. They were a lot of fun. The night after Cozumel, we went to see Love and Marriage, where couples have to answer intimate questions, and then see if their spouse can correctly guess the same answer. It was quite revealing for a few of the couples. Not quite as revealing as the final night’s game show, Quest, which we went along to with our tablemates Maria and Tomas, and Erwin and his wife. The idea is that teams of four people from different sections of the audience have to perform special tasks to earn points. The team with the most points wins. As luck would have it, we were seated in a quiet section, and when they asked for two male volunteers, all three guys in the section looked nervously at each other. I ended up participating along with Erwin, doing everything from the splits (pretty unsuccessfully) taking off my jeans, and collecting shoes, bras and lipstick from Ninfa, Maria and some others in the audience, and finally having to wear them all! It was embarrassing! But also very funny (at least for the people in the crowd).

So all in all, a cruise lived up to more than my lowly expectations, but not enough to bring me back on number two anytime soon unless I’m feeling completely starved. And we did meet a lot of nice people, as well as some “diamonds”. Now it’s a brief trip back to terra firma, before flying to Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic for an altogether different Caribbean experience.

We had been on the road for over 8 months now, and here we were being picked up at the airport by someone we knew, and spending the night in a home, free-of-charge, with food in a refrigerator, and free laundry! It was like we had entered the Twilight Zone, a really cool Twilight Zone! After travelling across something like 14 time zones in 10 days, crossing a chaotic US air transport network beset by severe weather storms and snow, here we were in balmy West Palm Beach, Florida staying with Ninfa’s aunt Victoria.

We were entering a new phase of travel that was going to last around one month called Travelling at Home. Travelling at Home has a few characteristics. First of all, as the name may suggest, it’s travelling but staying at home, someone else’s home. It’s different from couchsurfing in that the person’s home you stay in is family, so you get the added benefit of catching up with family that you haven’t seen for ages. It has a small requirement of having family who live in places you actually want to visit – here we were in Florida, from here (after a short Caribbean cruise), we were going to the Dominican Republic, and from there a long layover in Honduras for Christmas and New Year. And another not to be underestimated feature of Travelling at Home is that it suits all budgets! An added twist to our version of Travelling at Home was that my mother, who has always had a weak spot for sunny destinations with superb shopping, was going to join us for a week while we were there – a little piece of home at a home away from home.

When we left Ireland in March, we had only three fixed dates on our itinerary – the World Cup in South Africa, Christmas in Honduras, and just before that, Ninfa’s role as bridesmaid in a wedding of one of her best high-school friends, Marissa. Marissa was getting married in Miami, so that was another reason to feel happy about our fixed date. We would be in Miami for three nights – the first night for the rehearsal dinner, the second for the wedding, and the third for recovery. It was a great opportunity for Ninfa to meet up with Marissa and some old friends who are scattered around the US and Honduras and don’t get together often. It was a good chance for me to put some faces to names I’d heard many a tale about, like Marissa, Ana, Monica and Karina. I was a little worried about the impression I’d make on Ninfa’s friends as although my mother had brought me a suit, I had hidden my shoes too well in Ireland, and I had to wear my trainers with my suit. I got out of jail though when the bride’s brother was also wearing trainers, so instead it kind of looked bad for everyone else wearing shoes. We all had a great time at the wedding which was a lovely, small, outdoor, evening ceremony. It didn’t take long for the party to get going afterwards, as almost simultaneously to the music starting, all the Honduran girls were on the floor! The party wrapped up early around midnight, which is generally the time people get warmed up at an Irish wedding, so we headed back to our hotel for more drinks only to find the bar was already closed!

The upside of the early night was that it gave us a chance to savour some of the Miami highlife. We drove out to South Beach the next morning, and took a walk along its beautiful, pastel-painted, stylish Art-Deco avenues before stopping for lunch in one of streetside cafes, ideal for seeing and being seen. Lunches are surprisingly good value, and the entertainment is great with the young and beautiful, the real deals and the wannabes, and the flash cars cruising along Ocean Drive. We took a walk past the beach volleyball courts out to the beach itself which is a long, wide sandy, strand stretching out along the Atlantic Ocean. Afterward, we took a drive along Calle Ocho which is basically Cuba Central with its cigar stores, and travel agents all offering flights to Havana, before spending the evening taking in some of the atmosphere of the Miami Art Fair in laid back Coconut Grove.

Our time in Miami was up, and it was time to relax in the splendid surroundings of Palm Beach County. It was the first time that any of Ninfa’s family had met any of my family, so it was great to spend time both with my mother and Ninfa’s aunt Victoria (aka Nene) as well as her husband Riad, and son Joe, although I think his real name is Zuzu (:-)). As will happen in the country of consumerism and among such female-dominated we spent quite a bit of our time shopping in the myriad malls around Florida, contributing to the Christmas atmosphere along the way. We also spent a day touring the waterfront of Palm Beach and taking a look at the multi-millionaire mansions of the rich and retired, and not wasting the opportunity to enjoy a Champagne cocktail at the luxurious and opulent setting of the famous Breakers Hotel. The streets of Palm Beach are perfectly cleaned with long palm-lined avenues leading down to the beach. It’s easy to imagine the Kennedys in their heyday exchanging pleasantries along the exclusive Worth Avenue, or to take an even greater step back in time on Clematis St with some of the original buildings that first graced West Palm Beach.

Overall, it was a great place to relax, and I really enjoyed getting to spend some time with my mother before Christmas catching up (and being spoiled), and also to enjoy the company of Victoria’s family, chatting long into the evenings, and sometimes not only past Riad’s bedtime but our bedtime too! So a little less adventure than we’re used to, but some TLC goes a long way when you’ve been away for a long time. So a big thanks to my mother for making the long trip over to see us before Christmas, and to the Batruny family for being such hospitable and welcoming hosts. Next stop is another departure from our usual travel plans – a four-day Caribbean Cruise. Read about it on our next post!

Las Vegas, Sin City, city of lights, oasis of iniquity – call it what you like, there’s no place like it on Earth. A few weeks earlier, Ninfa suggested to me that we spend some time in Las Vegas. At first I dismissed the idea – we were on a trip around the world with an opportunity to visit so many rich cultural destinations, and we were going to go to Las Vegas?! What I didn’t realise at the time is that Las Vegas is a culture in itself, and secondly, a whole lot of fun. And as it turned out, Las Vegas was our cheapest option for a transpacific flight with a stopover in Hawai’i. The die was cast!

We flew into Las Vegas at dawn on a Hawaiian Airlines flight (worst airline ever!) from Honolulu. McCarran airport in Las Vegas is so close to the city that it felt like we were actually landing in the strip itself! In that cool, clear morning light, the city looked more magnificent than normal. In the middle of a barren rocky desert was the sprawling stream of bright lights and buildings of the wildest imaginations. It was also freezing cold, and we ran onto our shuttle from the airport building. We were staying in the Imperial Palace hotel for $25 a night – that’s as cheap as our hotels in Laos – what a bargain! And it had cable TV. We arrived at 7am and the receptionist let us check in straight away which was fantastic. In Vegas, they’ll do anything to accommodate you getting settled in and out into the casino as quickly as possible. Vegas wasn’t built on winners, and it’s probably the greatest concentration of losers on the whole planet. But Vegas makes even losing fun! We headed to our room, and caught up on some sleep. We had a little over 24 hours in the city, and we didn’t want to spend it like zombies.

When we got up, it was a beautiful winter’s day in the Nevada desert, and we hit the Strip straight away. Walking out, we were immediately met by the sight of the landmark Caesar’s Palace, probably the most famous boxing venue that I know of, and the scene of Barry McGuigan’s loss of his world featherweight title in 1986. We walked in for a closer look. The grandeur of the Caesar’s Palace hotel seems second-to-none. We took a walk around the wedding chapels, of which there are many, on the first floor but no weddings that day.

From there we continued along the strip passing landmark after landmark. Las Vegas is the ultimate fusion of bags of money and a wild imagination. As we walked along the Strip, we passed by the canals of Venice. Without even having to cross a border, we strolled through Parisian boulevards under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. From there we continued on through Manhattan and saluted the Statue of Liberty, before travelling back in time to Luxor and the Great Pyramids. Las Vegas is made of money, loser’s money, and there’s loads of it. Each of these massive complexes holds within it a massive casino. There’s ways for all the family to lose their money, although even the loose Nevada laws stop short of allowing minors to gamble – 1c slot machines to black jack to poker tables to enormous walls of televisions broadcasting live sports from all over the world. It’s hard to think that little over 30 years ago, the Strip didn’t even exist.

In fact, before the 20th century, Las Vegas didn’t even exist. And in the evening, we took a bus down to an area that’s as close to a historical centre as you get in Las Vegas, the original gambling area of downtown and Fremont Street. A large portion Fremont St. has recently been redeveloped into the Fremont Street Experience which boasts a canopy almost 500m long which is in fact a huge screen. Every 15 minutes the neon lights of the city’s oldest casinos are dimmed and a multimedia sound and light show takes place on the canopy screen. It’s loud, flashy and pretty impressive. Fremont St. is full of the symbols that have come to be associated with Las Vegas; the giant Vegas Vic neon sign, Elvis lookalikes and the Glitter Gulch sign.

We had been in Vegas all of 12 hours already and we still hadn’t placed our first bet, so we decided to put that shameful run to an end. As the Strip has taken over as the place to be in Las Vegas, the downtown casinos offer a lot more incentives to get gamblers in, and it’s a great place to gamble for free – all the fun and none of the risk. By signing up for a casino club, you get anywhere between $10 and $50 free credits for the slot machines. We signed up for a few and hopped casinos wasting our free money and moving on.

Fremont St. also has some informative exhibits on the history of the town and explains Las Vegas’ rise from desert dustbowl to gambling capital of the world. Las Vegas was previously just a stopping point for goldminers heading east, but that all changed when the state of Nevada legalised gambling in the 1930s. From there, the gambling industry boomed as Las Vegas became a favourite location for mobsters to launder money by building huge casinos. This continued until the 1970s when the Strip was born with the construction of the first mega-resorts and the face of Las Vegas changed forever.

It was getting late so we headed back to the Strip to watch some of the famous spectacular fountain shows in front of the Bellagio hotel, before hitting some of the bars on the strip. Las Vegas only wakes up after dark, and what were huge empty spaces by day were now bustling hives of gambling and drinking. We joined in, taking a particular liking to the 99c margaritas and beers. To top it all off, when we got back to the hotel, I partook in a couple of rounds of black jack coming away with an impressive winnings of $10! So maybe Las Vegas does do happy endings. From what I dreaded before coming, I loved when I was leaving – a perfect place for some cheap thrills. Just never play with your own money. Next stop, Florida!

For all our pictures of Fabulous Las Vegas, check our photos here.

Hawaii – hula girls, surfers, famous Waikiki beach … we were very excited to be spending two days in the heart of the Aloha State. Arriving into Honolulu airport, the weather was exactly as you would expect – bright, hot sunshine. We went straight to the rental car agency to pick up our car, and they gave us a choice of a few models. We saw a Toyota Prius, and although not exactly the coolest wheels on Waikiki beach, we thought we’d make an environmental choice. After about 10 minutes, we still couldn’t figure out how to switch it on! We eventually made it out of the car park, and headed straight for the North Shore, Hawaii’s legendary surfer’s paradise.

We took the main highway northwest from Honolulu, past Pearl Harbour, stopping on the way for our daily fix of supermarket poke (Hawaiian raw fish speciality). Our first stop was the Dole Plantation. Hawaii is famous among other things for pineapples, and a young man by the name of Dole made his fortune by buying up lots of cheap land and cultivating a very fruitful enterprise. We stopped to have a look, as well as to attempt the world’s largest maze. It was a bit of fun and even a little frustrating at times. The object of the game is to find 9 checkpoints in the maze in the fastest possible time. Even with a map, which we stubbornly refused to use for the first 30 minutes, it’s difficult. We eventually split up and had a contest, which Ninfa just edged in an exciting finish. Well done Ninfa!

After our amusement at the home of pineapples, we headed for Historic Haleiwa, aka surfer central! We didn’t really know what was historic about Haleiwa and were about to bypass it until we hit a traffic jam, and we’d thought we’d try a shortcut through the town. Haleiwa is picture postcard perfect Hawaiiana with an added twist of surfer dudedom! Check out our pictures here. We stopped for some food before continuing on to Sunset Beach.

Spanning just over a month every December, the Triple Crown of Surfing hits the North Shore of O’ahu, as the winter Pacific storms start to push high waves southwest straight into the North Shore of Hawaii. We stopped first at the famous Banzai Pipeline, known in the surfer kingdom for its unbeatable tubes or pipes that surfers can swim along underneath the wave. It wasn’t our day though, as the weather forecast showed the storms coming from the northeast rather than the northwest, so the normally fearsome Banzai Pipeline was a shadow of its potential. The surfing championship had been called off for the day as the waves were too low, only a few metres high. It was right in the middle of the ladies competition, so many of the competitors were posing for publicity shots on the beach, or putting in a few hours practice. It wasn’t all doom and gloom for Ninfa though, as some of the male competitors were taking the opportunity to practice some impressive surf skills as well.

We hung around the beach until just after dark and watched a beautiful sunset stretch out over the sky and the beautiful beach around us. We’ve seen a lot of beaches on our tour, but Hawaii’s North Shore looks to be topping the charts. Although we spent a lot of time looking for an underdog to be our champion beach, sometimes the favourite is just too hard to beat. Check out our North Shore photo album here.

We drove a little further up the coast also, and found a few locations which we recognized from Lost, the desert island drama series that we had downloaded and watched on our lazy evenings throughout the trip. We found the shrimp truck where Sawyer killed his supposed father, which among other things, began to whet our appetite. We stopped off at Historic Haleiwa on the way back to Honolulu and found a shrimp truck and had a delicious shrimp meal which came very close to equaling supermarket poke.

We would have liked to stay on the North Shore, but during the surfer high season, the rooms were ridiculously expensive – about $40 for a bunk bed in a dorm! So we headed back to Honolulu and got a last minute deal on a nice hotel just off Waikiki. We took a walk down around Waikiki to see some Hula Girls dancing in a public show that the Honolulu municipality presents most evenings. The show is very touristy, and we did our best to enjoy. What was really funny was that there was a man in the hula-dancer troupe. We’re all for equal opportunities, but a man as a hula girl was the final straw for me. We walked further along the beach until we found the Duke Kahanamoku Statue. Duke, the original Big Kahuna, was an Olympic champion swimmer and one of Waikiki’s original beach boys. His statue depicts him with his trademark longboard which he used to surf the waves on Waikiki beach, and his arms are graced with beautiful lei (Hawaiian floral necklaces) – it’s a real icon of Honolulu, Hawaii and the Aloha state, and one monument you just have to visit in Hawaii. See more of Waikiki and Honolulu here.

That night, as we were relaxing back at the hotel, Ninfa started doing some research on skydiving, as we had seen a van advertising it on Waikiki Beach. I hate heights, and always find some excuse to avoid these escapades, so I told her to make some calls in the morning, hoping the idea would disappear. We had to get up early to move the car in the morning (Honolulu parking is expensive – look out!). Unfortunately, this gave Ninfa a superb opportunity to contact all the skydiving companies on the island. It was around 10am, and the skydiving company told us we needed to be there by 12 midday to make the jump that day – it was about 90 minutes away. I was at the denial stage of the coping cycle, and we packed as quick as we could and jumped in the car. We were on schedule to make it to the Dillingham Airfield on time. As we got closer, Ninfa started getting cold feet! I was style too preoccupied on getting to the place on time that I couldn’t think – the reality was obviously sinking in for her. We were just asking questions when we started to see parachutes above, and before we knew it, we were getting out of the car and signing the usual disclaimer forms.

There were two types of jump available – the Standard at 7,000ft, or the Ultimate at 14,000ft which included 60 seconds of tandem freefall. We were already paying half-price as we are both students (;-)), so as we were paying, I opted for the Ultimate. Ninfa thought I was crazy, and I probably was in the throes of some sort of death-wish mentality, completely scared by the prospect, but nonetheless, we both signed up for the Ultimate. About 30 minutes later, we were strapped up, fully briefed on our 2-minute safety talk, and boarding a light aircraft which holds about 20 people.

Ninfa won’t mind me saying, but at this point she was as nervous as hell, was a whiter shade of pale, and completely speechless. I was managing my nerves by yabbering incessantly with my tandem instructor, to avoid the reality sinking in too much. The plane ride was probably the scariest part – the anticipation, as well as the fact that this aircraft was so light and waving around in the wind, that we were actually happy we had parachutes and could jump out! We watched the altimeter hit 14,000 and our stomachs almost came out of our mouths as they plane stopped ascending and leveled out. The instructor at the back of the plane threw open the door, and the wind swept in. We were the first ones in, so we would be the last out. It all goes very quick once the door opens – they are obviously aware that any hanging around is going to make people nervous. The girl who jumped just before Ninfa was screaming “No!”as she got to the edge, and the instructor pushed them out anyway. I had told Ninfa that she would jump first as I knew I would be scared silly, but that I would still do it no matter what, and I wanted to be with her for moral support (amn’t I great?!). Ninfa didn’t need any, but she did admit afterwards to closing her eyes.

Now it was my turn … JT pushed me to the edge of the door. I was practically hanging out with only a few straps securing me to him, looking out at a gusty 14,000ft fall. I wasn’t even the least bit scared (believe that?), and then out we went, somersaulting through the air and falling, falling, falling, faster, faster, faster. JT tapped me on the shoulder which was the signal to spread my arms and tuck my legs back under his, in order to keep face down for the parachute. We reached terminal velocity quickly, at about 140mph. The cold air was shooting up my nose, and I was breathing fast. My cheeks were somewhere around where my ears were, and my ears were deafened by the air going by. I was able to see clouds and the coast of Hawaii that I remembered from a map. And then it happened, the moment of joy, the parachute had opened – I was going to live!!! But this was actually the worst bit. JT steered the parachute which involves closing one side of the chute so that you accelerate down and around. I didn’t want him messing around – wasn’t it ok to be alive, why did he want to mess it up. The swerving around was so dizzying, I felt faint. Then he asked me to have a go. So I did, and nervously swung us on gentle curves deceptively similar to a straight line. It’s only at the end that fear of heights takes hold. As the ground comes into view, so too does perspective, and all of a sudden I thought I was falling too fast. But we landed so softly, ungracefully on my bum, that a foot step would give a greater impact. I ran over to hug Ninfa – we were both on top of the world to be off the top of the world.

And so it was, our finale to a week in Hawaii, which had yielded dizzying heights of enjoyment, one of the most enjoyable (and thrilling) weeks of our lives, recklessly risking our lives on two occasions and surviving to have wonderful memories. Hawaii may have its equal, but we don’t know it, and what a place that must be!

The night after our thrilling lava hike, we woke up in the cosy small country farm setting of Kehena Honey House where we were staying on the southeast coast of the Big Island. We had booked it at the last minute at the starting point of the lava hike at 10pm the previous night, and it wasn’t until we checked out the website later that we realised that guests are invited (although not forced) to participate in a naturist mindset. We set off fully-clothed in our rental car on a coastal drive past the nearby naturist beach, around the south-east of the island under glorious sunshine. (Don’t be put off by the naturism – it’s only optional and was our best quality accommodation in Hawai’i, and affordable too). We drove along winding roads covered by a canopy of trees reaching across the road and leaving a patchwork of shade on the surface below. On one occasion where the trees thinned out as we drove along, I was able to spot a green turtle floating in the waves on a small beach. It was quite simply beautiful. We continued on and stopped at a local surfing spot to watch the action before continuing on to a sea-water pool which is heated by the hot volcanic rocks below the surface and where Ninfa got a short foot massage from some of the fish in the pool. We were planning to return to this neck of the woods, so we left what turned out to be the most beautiful part of the island we saw.

And so we commenced our tour around the biggest of the islands in the Hawaiian archipelago. Our first stop later that day was at the Akaka Falls which is an impressive 80m waterfall set among lush jungle vegetation of huge trees, orchids and the famous Hawaiian hibiscus. On our way back we stopped in the nearby town of Honoma, which boasts the original statue of Hawai’i's native hero who united the islands, King Kamehameha (editor’s note – the original is actually in Kapa’au on the north of the island). I’ve heard of such a thing as Americana which describes the old-style towns and art and design of a bygone American era, but in Hawai’i there’s definitely a lot of a similar brand of pleasing on the eye, laid-back Hawaiiana typified by wooden buildings colorfully painted and surfboard fences – Honoma and Hawi, where we spent the night, are great examples. True to the Big Island’s breadth of diversity, we passed through the mountain plains of Waimea which is the heart of Hawai’i's ranch country. The town lies at the foot of Hawai’i's highest mountain / volcano, Mauna Kea. The slopes of the surrounding windswept mountains are covered in leaning trees, herds of cattles and grazing and galloping horses. It feels a million miles away from the Pacific paradise just a couple of hours drive away.

The next morning we set off for one of the east coast’s highlight sights – the Pololu Valley Lookout. Quite literally at the end of the road, the land drops down to a secluded black sand beach at the mouth of a dry valley surrounded by steep, lush, verdant cliffs. Afterwards, we headed west along the north coast of the island as far as Kona, famous for its coffee and its 350+ days of sunshine every year. Who would have bet then that we rolled into Kona under a brooding grey sky and the first drops of rain that would fall for the rest of the evening. Aside from a tasty but small burger in a local joint, we ate in Taco Bell, again. Hawai’i until now was turning out to be the worst place we had visited for food in our entire trip. So far, we had tried to operate within our budget and had twice opted for a local speciality called “moco loco”, which is rice with gravy, egg and the option of beef or fish patty, both of which are processed and defrosted. And it tastes worse than it sounds. It wasn’t until the following day, on the road out of Kona that we found Hawai’i's gastronomical budget-friendly redemption – supermarket poke – which from that point would form a large part of our daily sustenance. Poke comes in assorted forms, but consists of raw fish such as local mahi-mahi, marinaded in soy sauce or lemon, and served with a little onion and other condiments. My personal favourite was a bread roll stuffed with mahi mahi poke, which is unlikely to find its way to many menus soon, but may well feature in another budget backpacker’s diet in the not so distant future.

Kona turned out to be less than exceptional due to the weather mostly and we were wondering what we had done to deserve another grey morning as we left the place (that was 2 of the 15 days of rain per year). Things picked up, including the weather, as we approached Pu’uhonua o Honaunau, more easily known as The Place of Refuge, an important Hawai’i'an cultural monument. In Hawai’ian history, the Place of Refuge was a safe point in times of war, where the old and young who were not warriors could seek shelter to avoid death in the war. Also, those guilty of crimes could escape to the Place of Refuge and avoid a certain death penalty. What remains of the Place of Refuge are some small wooden huts and lots of impressive wooden carved statues of various angry deities which seem to be designed in caricature. The statues are impressive, as are the green turtles that float in the small bay just in front of them. I took some time to take a dip in the water nearby and do some snorkeling. The visibility underwater was great and although there was no reef, there were quite a few impressive colorful fish, including Hawai’i's state fish, the Humuhumunukunukuapuaa. Yes that’s the “HOO-moo-HOO-moo-NOO-koo-NOO-koo-AH-poo-AH-ah”. Hawai’i has its fair share of unusual names.

From the Place of Refuge we continued our road trip around the island past the Punalu’u Black Sand Beach, a feature of the volcanic soil that makes the island. It’s hard to get your head around a black sand beach, as it definitely doesn’t fall into the stereotype postcard scene, and the sand is a little coarse, but it was a splendid sight with the palm trees being beaten by the wind, and the waves crashing in on the black rocks around us. We didn’t have time to make it off road for the two-hour hike to the green sand beach at the southern tip of the island, which I am sure is as much as if not more so of a wonderful sight.

As we rolled into rainy Hilo that night, we were sure that few people had so much rain as we had on our Hawai’ian adventure. Granted, that was only one and a half days, but 100% more than expected. We stopped into the popular Ken’s Diner in Hilo for a cultural first – our first thanksgiving dinner together on US territory. The meal itself was not as forgettable as I would like it to be, another reason to rate Hawai’ian food (except poke rolls) so low.

As it is, it was time to call our Big Island adventure to a close. I hope we managed to convey a little of the diversity and natural and cultural richness that Hawai’i has to offer – it’s not just wonderful surf, pristine beaches and luxury. Additionally, the Big Island is less touristed, has a distinct off the beaten track feel, and can be done on a budget of around $100-150 daily including the tours and car rental, excluding airfare. If we did it again, we might just stick to the east coast, as it was by far the most enjoyable part of our visit. But if you’re thinking it would be crazy to visit Hawai’i without indulging in its stereotypical pleasures, then fret no more. We’ll have some more news from O’ahu, Waikiki Beach and the North Shore in our next post.

The Hawaiian Archipelago is the most geographically isolated group of islands on Earth. It lies at least 4,000km from any of the two continents that flank the Pacific Ocean, and is well renowned as a paradise on Earth, a dream destination. So when we were planning our trans-pacific journey from Asia (Philippines) to North America (Florida, USA), to say we were overjoyed to find out that our cheapest option included a free stopover in Hawai’i for eight days might be an understatement. As it turned out, it was a little more difficult than we first expected. Hawaiian Airlines, who had the best price, only accept US credit cards, which meant that we were unable to book the flights! After weeks more searching, we eventually found the same itinerary on Continental (who acknowledge that not only US citizens travel). The downside of our Continental itinerary was that, added to the fact that we would cross the international date line and suffer one hell of a jetlag, we would also have to land and clear immigration at 4am in Guam. Jetlagged we arrived in Honolulu at 5pm having left Manila at 11pm the same day. Time travel is great, especially when your time machine lands you in Hawai’i.

We spent one day in Honolulu, which I’ll cover in the next post, before taking a short evening flight to Hilo, the biggest town in Hawai’i's Big Island. I had been to O’ahu (the most populated island) before, so we wanted to see something different. We deliberated long and hard between Maui, Kauai and the Big Island but finally opted for the Big one because it seems to offer a greater diversity of attractions as well as being more welcoming to the budget traveller.

Our first day on the island was centred around volcanoes. All of Hawai’i's islands were born from volcanic eruptions, or Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes according to the natives. As Pele gives birth to the Hawaiian homelands, she and the geological forces at her disposal push the the islands northwest. The Big Island (officially called Hawai’i) is the youngest of the islands, the largest, and also the most volcanically active, still growing as you read. What results is that you have an island which combines beautiful beaches at sea level, and dormant volcanoes at a height of approximately 4,000 metres, high enough to get altitude sickness.

We drove inland from Hilo in our rental car to the Volcano National Park. We arrived just in time for one of the daily ranger walks which leave every day at 11am (check website for most current details). As we took the short one hour walking tour, Travis, our Ranger guide in Volcano Park, gave us a lot of interesting facts on the flora and fauna. There are only two mammals endemic to Hawai’i – a type of fruit bat, and the monk seal. Hawaiian plants and animals began to evolve over 70 million years ago in nearly complete isolation and over 90% of the native terrestrial flora and fauna in Hawai’i are found only in the Hawaiian islands. This level of endemism surpasses all other places on Earth – even the Galapagos Islands!

He drew our attention to one plant in particular, the ohi’a tree and its lehua blossom. In Hawaiian folklore, the ohi’a represents a Hawai’ian chief who spurned Pele’s advances and was transformed into a tree. His lover, upon finding him, bid the gods change her into a flower to be with her lover, and such is the crimson flower. It is said if you pick the flower from the tree, it will rain, as the maiden weeps on being separated from her prince. For those loving biology more than folklore, note that the Ohi’a tree is unique on Earth in its adaptation to its environment – it is the only plant on Earth that can hold its breath, useful when volcanoes emit poisonous sulphur dioxide gases into its environment. We finished the tour with Travis at a viewing point overlooking the massive Kilauea caldera with the 4,000m+ Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea volcanoes in the background.

After our tour, we spent the rest of the time driving around the national park. We followed the Road of Craters past black desolate landscapes and signs indicating Lava Flow 1974 and subsequent years, until we reached the coast and the road was finally cut off by an even more recent lava flow. Far off in the distance, we could see the clouds of vapour and poisonous fumes which indicated the current lava flow pouring into the sea. Looking back, the mountainsides were coated in old, black rivers of lava as far as the eye could see. It’s an incomparable landscape set against a deep blue, sun-drenched seascape.

There’s an official viewing point to see this current lava flow about 25km from Hilo, so we took the road back and arrived there shortly after sunset. The view from the official viewpoint was disappointing to say the least. We were expecting to see lava, but due to safety reasons (perfectly understandable), we were way back from the lava and could hardly see anything. On our way back to the car, we passed a stand with a slogan “See the flow, not just the glow”, and a video of lava pouring like water. This was what we wanted! It was already 9pm and the next tour was not leaving until 10:30pm. In addition, it involved a 90 minute hike by night to the lava flow, and would cost $55 each with torches included (we found out later that we could have got it for $40 with the same organiser but by buying direct). There was also the small matter of the disclaimer meaning that if we died it was our own fault – this is more or less a given for any fun activities we have taken on our trip. And finally, the fact that what we would be doing could be described anywhere between the two close extremes of plain reckless and insane due to the risks. We listened carefully along with a group of around 10 others, and when the salesman asked who wanted to go, we were the first to sign up. As it turned out, not everyone was so keen, but we’re here to tell the tale!

The hike to the lava flow began with a walk through rugged ground of old lava (maybe 20 years old) for about 30 minutes before we got to a cliff along the coast which we followed for another 20 minutes. According to the people with us, lava is new land with no ownership entitlements and by default belongs to the state. So all this was public land. Then we got to a small slice of land that survived between two lava flows. This land belongs to the people we paid for the tour, and what we paid is basically a passing through charge. Beyond their land, we walked for a few minutes before the glow and smoke became very bright ahead of us. At this stage, it was getting hot. I poured some water onto the rock below my feet which instantly evaporated.

We were now on what is called the bench. The rangers in Volcano National Park had told us earlier never to walk on the bench, saying that people survive, but those that don’t never see the end coming. A bench is a strip of new land formed by lava that has flowed out into the sea and has cooled forming new land. It is very dangerous as it is impossible to know if this bench is solid to the surface of the sea below or is simply a huge massive precipice hanging over the sea without a solid foundation. In the case of a current lava eruption, lava flows under the bench through a tube, as the lava at the surface cools and forms a hard crust and insulates the lava below which continues to flow at temperatures of around 1,000 degrees centigrade. Not only were we standing on the bench, but we had just walked over the tube! This was so stupid, but the spectacle in front of our eyes, barely 50m away was spellbinding! Here we had a clear view of numerous streams of lava pouring out of the rock and as the waves rolled in, an explosion of vapour as the sea boiled under the heat, and lava transformed into rock and sprayed over the black sand beach. We were mesmerized and watched for almost an hour. It was amazing to think that this is how mother nature creates the land in our seas, and it was taking place right before our eyes. There was also an acute awareness of the risk we were taking which only added to the excitement, especially as lava began to bubble and spew upwards nearby the stream that flowed into the sea.

On the walk back, I asked our guide to rate what we had seen, as after all he does this most nights. He gave it an 8 out of 10, and we were very satisfied with what we had gotten for the risk we had taken. Would we recommend it to anyone else? What I would say is that you are very likely to be disappointed if you go to the official viewing point, as you will not really see lava. On the other hand, would I advise someone to take a risk that could ultimately cost them their lives? I would hesitate to do that. Now that we have done it, it seems that there was no risk. It’s like telling people to wear a seatbelt. It probably won’t happen, but when it does you’ll regret it. What we saw was unforgettable, a unique experience, and a truly incredible sight of seeing the Earth at its destructive and creative best.

More from the Big island and Hawai’i in our next post.

In this post, I would like to cover two things. The second is a short account of how we spent 12 hours in Manila on a stop-over when we were travelling from Palawan to Hawai’i. The first is about finding accommodation. When you’re constantly travelling, and doing so on a budget, it sometimes happens (and is sometimes planned) to just turn up in a city without any accommodation booked, pound the pavement for an hour or two, see what looks best, haggle and bed down for the night. Unfortunately, Manila is not one of the cities where we would recommend this approach. Read on and find out why.

The first time we arrived in Manila, on our way to Palawan, we had gone to the airport information desk and the lady there had helped us find a hotel close to the airport (Manila is actually a huge sprawl of connected cities), and for a great price. This time we tried the same thing, but it didn’t work out. It was earlier in the day and our hotel of choice was charging a higher rate. Confident in our 8 months of experience of dealing with the uncertainty of not knowing where to stay, we set off in a taxi for a nearby mall for some food and some wifi to look for hotel deals and find the right areas. However, things quickly began going against plan – we browsed the internet looking for last-minute hotel deals only to discover that weekend vacancies in Manila hotels can be difficult to find and expensive when you do.

Still confident, but a little more tired now, we hailed a cab. Manila cabs hate running by the meter (like lots of places we’ve been), and if they agree to do so, they all want to charge a premium on top which they put down to the usual excuses of fuel costs, etc. In the end, we just told the guy we’d pay it, and when we arrived where we were going didn’t bother. This is not a trick we’d recommend, but our driver didn’t look tough, and we got dropped off in front of lots of people. Our driver had advised us that the cheapest accommodation we could get would be a motel. Ninfa immediately rejected the idea as motels in Honduras have a reputation for being sleazy. I had more of an American idea in mind of cheap, basic accommodation with parking.

We arrived at one motel which had a women making a shush sign as their hotel logo which indicated that Ninfa might be the better clairvoyant of the two of us. On the other hand, when we walked in it looked quite nice, although all rooms had garages which Ninfa later explained was to ensure all occupants retained secrecy. I talked to the guy on duty and told him that we were looking for a decent hotel, and perhaps he would be honest enough to tell us if this place was catering for people looking for a sleep or people looking for a bed. He told us the rooms were rented by 8 hour slots, which I interpreted as the latter. Walking the streets in Manila at night is probably not a wise thing to do, and it sure as hell didn’t feel like a wise thing to do – dodgy! But we checked out another hotel nearby which was decent, whose prices tumbled by the minute, but still ended up above our budget. Next stop was another motel, but a chain motel which seemed more promising than the first, was brightly lit and looked clean … and a lot safer than the street. When we went in however, we were handed a ticket and told to wait in a queue with the other couples for an available room – they estimated a half-hour wait. We looked around at the queue of young couples in reception, some of whom were initiating conversations along the lines of “You live with your parents? Yes, me too.” We weren’t so tired not to see the funny side of it, but eventually resigned ourselves to going to our hotel from our previous night in Manila. The good news? By the time we got there it was late, so they were charging the lower price again. All’s well that ends well and in the end we had enjoyed our adventure discovering the world of Filipino motel romance, although at some points I wondered how Ninfa had known so much about it.

The next morning we got up and set out to discover Manila in 12 hours or less, before heading to the airport for our overnight flight to Hawai’i via Guam. There’s a saying I don’t quite remember, like most of the quotes I know, that says that the journey is much more than the destination. It often turns out to be true, but today one of our destinations was the journey, so it was guaranteed to be true. We had already taken a lot of tricycle trips in Palawan, but this time we wanted to try the other ubiquitous Filipino mode of transport – the jeepney.

The US came to the Philippines at the end of the 19th century and finally achieved what the Filipinos were attempting for a number of years – get rid of their Spanish colonial rulers. Unfortunately for the Filipinos, they now had a new colonial ruler, the USA, who claimed to have only temporary intentions. The US stayed in the Philippines until WWII when the Japanese invaded, and then returned in 1944 when the balance of the war shifted. Filipino guerrillas and US soldiers fought side by side in WWII and when the fighting was over agreed that the Philippines should become an independent republic. There are two legacies which are immediately evident from this US presence in the first half of the 20th century – almost everyone in the Philippines speaks English, and there are thousands of US Army jeeps which have been converted into the most common means of public transport in the country – the famous jeepneys!

We got some quick directions from the hotel staff on how to get to anywhere as long as we could do it in a jeepney. They recommended Mall of Asia, Asia’s biggest mall, which required a transfer in Baclaran. We walked across the 6-lane street to flag down a jeepney to Baclaran. We had been told by some taxi drivers that we would be crazy to take a jeepney and we were virtually guaranteed to be pickpocketed. Our attempts to mix in were defeated at the first hurdle. First, we were obviously not Filipino, except Ninfa maybe! Secondly, everyone pays as soon as they get on a jeepney, something we didn’t realise until new passengers boarded a few stops after we did. Not a problem. But what about the two shady looking gangsters were sitting at the back of the jeepney? I wouldn’t have been in the least bit surprised if one of them had pulled out a gun, but lucky for us they didn’t.

We had just started to feel a little more comfortable when we arrived in the busy, narrow streets of Baclaran. On our way to the station, the driver had to pay a few guys on the street a tip. Ninfa explained to me that this was similar to Honduras, where bus and taxi drivers regularly pay “passage tax” to the local gangs. I was realising more clearly why Ninfa had told me that the Philippines reminded her of home. What’s more, the two gangsters at the back of the bus were also going to the last stop! As it turned out, maybe there was nothing sinister in any of it as I like to think, as we walked safely off the bus into a hive of activity on Baclaran’s market streets. We had no idea where to go to get our connection, so much to Ninfa’s annoyance, I started taking photos. Fearing Ninfa’s wrath as much as the threat of theft, I quickly stowed away my camera. After a few attempts, we finally met a trustworthy looking local who agreed to show us the way to our connection point, and he and I passed the time talking about how much we had enjoyed the Manny Pacquiao fight. Our next jeepney was a much more family affair and we relaxed in the company of our fellow passengers as we got to Mall of Asia.

We had lunch at the mall, and took a taxi to Intramuros, Manila’s Spanish colonial centre. Intramuros literally means “inside the walls”, and there is a relative air of serenity once you enter inside these old colonial walls. We walked around a few streets before we bumped into a “guide” who offered to show us around the area in his tricycle. Ninfa doesn’t like tours so much, but I enjoy chatting with some of the locals and engaging in an economic transaction or two. This tricycle was unlike any other we had taken so far in that it was not motor-powered but pedal-powered, and was quite a tight squeeze. We took a brief visit around the mostly crumbling streets of Intramuros while our guide pointed out a few of the highlights. There’s something very charming about decrepit colonial buildings, which is a stroke of luck for the conversationists in Manila. We stopped at one point to climb onto the old defensive walls, and watched some golfers on the course on the other side. They all had caddies and an extra assistant, one of whom was employed in waving a towel to fan a player as he carefully considered his approach to an island green. How the other half lives!

Back on our tricycle, we cut our tour short and asked our guide to bring us to a pharmacy to buy some antibiotics as we had run out of our anti-malarial medicine. The great things about developing countries is buying prescription medicine without prescription. On our way back, we had to cross a steep bridge, at which point our guide and pedaller signalled to me to get out and push along with him. It was a comic moment, and probably the highlight of our tour for me. We asked our guide to drop us off at a Starbucks where we had coffee before heading to the airport. Although I paid our guide twice what we agreed for our pharmacy detour, he complained loads, before finally thanking me enthusiastically. I didn’t mind as I quite liked the guy. Also, on our detour, we had gone through some very poor areas with young families living in some very dirty conditions along the river. It put the golf course and our own lifestyles in stark contrast.

As Ninfa enjoyed her coffee, I went to take some photos of some jeepneys and buildings. As I did, a few guys drinking nearby approached me. We got talking, and I told him I was from Ireland, first time in Philippines etc and had been to Palawan. His eyes lit up and he told me he had been there too. When I asked if he enjoyed it, he explained that he had been in prison in the penal colony there. It’s true that there is a liberal penal colony just outside Puerto Princesa which accepts tourist visitors who buy arts and crafts there. I asked him why he had been there, and he raised his chin and ran his finger across his neck. I probed no more and started looking at the jeepneys. He then motioned to me to take his photo, which to no surprise I duly obliged. He posed proudly displaying his tattoos, and then motioned to me to come round the back of the jeepney to meet his friends, which I did. They were a very hospitable bunch, and offered me a good deal of rum as well as some of their food to share. I didn’t mind the rum but wasn’t so keen on the dinner, and took a few photos and had a chat. The guys were nice and explained to me that they were members of the Sputnik 13 gang who were based in the Intramuros. Tax collectors, I thought, that’s an honourable profession. I couldn’t help liking the guys. In the end, they found me a taxi to our hotel, I went to get Ninfa at Starbucks, and we bid farewell to the Sputnik 13, a voluntary $2 tax, Intramuros and a crazy 24 hours in Manila.

I liked the Philippines so much, I couldn’t resist buying a Philippines tracksuit top on the way out of Manila airport, which always receives a big smile when I meet any Pinoys on further travels. And I hadn’t even wanted to come here to start with. But it was well worth it, and to all the Pinoys reading out there, it’s “thank you ma’am”, and “thank you sir” for a great time!

For more photos, click here, and check out our small collection of Manila’s jeepneys as well as Intramuros and the Sputnik 13.