SOON WE PLUMB THE DEPTHS...

Right, some pics of my daredevil antics jumping off cliffs with Italian and Swedish mates... on to updates and business as usual regarding my spiritual retreat on Lake Attitlan, Guatemala!

JEDI MASTER: I now have a handle on the tarot, numerology and the Tree of Life, but am still convinced having a good chat with the Big Guy on a mountaintop somewhere is the best way to go... this week we start fasting (sort of), silence and serious meditation... no tv, no emails, no flicks, no talking no snoring... well, maybe the last one. Should be fun!

MAESTRO DE ESPANOL: Am rereading the Alchemist in Spanish, Paulo Coelho rocks and I am surprising myself at how much I can catch on already. Two weeks of Spanish School awaits after I terminate hippydom, hope to basically be a UN Translator by the time I hit Peru...

FLACO THE WONDERDOG: I might just be warming to the mutt, but Flaco the representative of the halfdead dog world is actually looking better, I can only see half his ribs now. For future reference, he enjoys mieliepap, strirfry vegetables and guacemolo... oh, and he has taught me another valuable lesson this week, which is that another better looking dog might be the culprit digging through our trash... but we kept on blaming Flaco because of his looks! Talk about superficiality...

STAYING ALIVE: The yoga`s picked up some speed, and this last week I jogged to the next village, kayaked to it ( a good 3km haul one-way... and then we still had to come back!) and on Sunday Christian, Benjamin and I ascended Mount Pedro, a full 3000m above sealevel and about 1500m climb... what a view though, bod is shattered today! You guys know me... where there is a mountain to climb...

GOAL! I`ve started in the habit of fasting once a week, this week true inspiration hit and I penned down another 45 goals while fasting... however, about 10 of them are dishes I want to learn how to prepare, starting with mom`s oxtail (nothing like an empty stomache to get you motivated). I am probably missing the point of the retreat when I plan my Star Wars marathon movie night back home while I am supposed to meditate...

GRIEVANCES! Some very thoughtful thief took advantage of me leaving my door open while at the Halloween party next door by nicking my wallet. I spent the whole climb up the mountain fretting about the admin involved in cancelling my credit cards, but I discovered the courteous bastard left my cards for me in my notebook... so it was almost like kissing your sister or sharing the Curry Cup, elated and frustrated at the same time. Still, I have to learn to let go of the worldly possessions... he got away with a lot of cash, but I am booking on the fact that he-she will get reincarnated as a chicken in Mexico, thereby dying a swift and horrible death...

MOVING ON! Happy to say my little sister is joining me in Honduras end of next month for a post-thirtieth birthday Scuba adventure on Utila, the island that never sleeps. Until then I have loads of fasting to do, astral plains to visit, ancient ruins to gawk at, learning Spanish in exotic cities with even more exotic teachers and some other stressful stuff...

Take care of yourselves true believers, may the Force, the energy of the universe, God or whoever your chosedn deity is keep you safe, warm and happy!

Distant Mountain - the hippy formerly known as Pieter...

WHEN I WAS SEVEN I WANTED TO BE...

A few pennies dropped this week...

Progressing on my spiritual journey with due haste, the following activities in this week require some mention…

I am actually growing fond of Flaco… damn dog, he`s really forcing me to reevaluate the way I look at some things. Still smells terrible though.
I have had some great ideas in class and in meditation this week, mostly dealing with writing and stuff.
We are doing the Tree of Life, interesting stuff and some universal truths in there… the Seven Habits still link in strong…
I have added the odd 45 goals to my 41 goal list, so there`s lots of new stuff to work on… and trying to balance things now between the spiritual, mental and physical. These include a triathlon, buying a mini-bus to take people on wine tours back in SA and some other cooky ideas…
We did a great little exercise in regression the other night, and I reckon that is what I want to blog about today…

So Chatty had us lie on our backs and regress back in time… this is where you see yourself at certain ages, and try to evaluate what you remember most of that time, what you felt like and what you wanted for your life. This is how my story goes…

30! In October of that year, my main memories are negative ones… mainly due to a transition period at work… I was frustrated and it was just prior to my promotion. The main memory is, however, a sense of despair as my relationship of 18 months was at that point really starting to crumble… after a pretty challenging holiday together in Spain, Henriette and I both kinda felt the writing on the wall, but it took us another six months to really finish things off. Tough month!

25! In October of that year, I am pretty sure I was having a ball with my dad watching the World Cup Rugby in England. I also met Sharon, the first girl I really cared about and my first real relationship, on that trip (right after them damn Aussies knocked us out in the semis). It was the start of a glorious time in my life… the next year I started my MBA, really found some direction in work and had a good first year of the new millenium. I do remember being really frustrated at TURNING 25 though… mid mid life crisis!

20! 2nd year in Residence Huis Marais at University… I dimly remember loads of drinking with roommate Cobus and buddy Kappie, pretty sure there was some studying involved as the exams were in November… was never the best accounting student!

17! Ah, that was the end of St. 9… when I started to gain a concept of parties, I specifically remember having a beer with my cousin Sergej round about that time, prior to a great ski trip at the end of the year. I do believe our friendship as young adults had its roots in this time. I was pretty happy, coming out of my nerdy shell, had no concept of girls though at this time…

14! And, as we go further back to the childhood, focus shifts… an introverted kid, this was the year I became friends with Deon, my lifelong buddy, squash partner and golfing nemesis. That was the year I took up golf, started playing more squash… basically stopped spending all my time indoors and more time outdoors doing stuff!

11! That year, I spent most of the time in my room writing comic books or reading… sometimes during break, in a dark corner where no-one could spot me. Thank God there was no playstation in my day… and I had the best trip as a kid to the States, visiting Disneyworld! Still one of the best days ever… that was the year of the Teen Titans comic books, my cousin winning a national writing competition and Mr Smit, my English teacher who I liked above all others but who also deeply hurt me in some ways… I had my first real concept of my writing abilities in his class!

9! St 1… that year I had pnunomia, my teacher stuck a needle in my butt to punish me for not doing my homework even though I was so sick I shouldn`t even have been in school… my parents got her fired. I have a strong sense of starting to go to the library a lot, and loving the Tarzan books specifically…

7! We lived in Joburg that year. I remember my first hailstorm, my mate Rico introducing me to the wonders of Comic Books and Star Wars (he had brought the Millenium Falcon back from the States! – since then Empire Strikes Back has always been my favourite in the series), having fun just being a kid, Buck Rogers on tv and being in awe of the game of cricket (never did pick it up)… but mostly, that year my first grade teacher pulled me aside to give me a book prize for best composition…

5! Of being five I just remember playing in the river next to our home, oh and having to walk all the way back from the cinemas (a veritable oddyssey) after watching a Terence hill – Bud Spencer movie with Rico… remember those!

So this bit of regression dictates that…

My memories are not defined in context of my family, they have more or less been a highly consistent presence in my life and we have been spared major trials… with the exception of my sister`s foot injury…
What I did until 14 and what I did from 17 are highly polar… but if the wisdom is that you form your life mission at 7, then I guess I need to become a writer…

Highly zenful!

FLACO - MY SPIRITUAL GUIDE

I am not a dog person.

I did not grow up with dogs, I am scared of the more aggressive ones and even the overly friendly ones creep me out. I am good with the companionable keep-your-distance mutts, but that is my stretch.

So God, in his infinite wisdom, has seen fit to send me, in this time of yoga, meditation, vegetarianism and spiritual enlightenment, to bless me with Flaco.

If Las Piramides had a mascot, Flaco would probably be it. What that says about the place is neither here nor there... this poor creature is emaciated, smells terrible, has only half a left ear and by all accounts has very little reason to live. He lurks around the place, digging through the trash and leaving a god awful mess, he instinctively senses when you have food and comes way too close into your personal space... bringing his smell with him... and if you don´t close the kitchen door at night, you WILL find him- and his five thousand fleas and diseases- sleeping on the counter, the very spot where you want to prepare breakfast.

So everyone who comes here has a different reaction to Mr Spiritual Guide. Some people try to ignore him (my first reaction), some people try to change his behavour through intimidation, hysterics, aggression or a mixture of all of the above (adequetely describing my further reactions) and some people decide to bring him back from the dark side, feeding him, loving him, carressing him (not there yet). They are the folks who are bound to find him curled up on their bed one night, as one poor oak found to his horror.

Some chick tried feeding him back to health (his appearance did not alter a jot), another pure soul attempted to ship him off to a vet who would nurse him back to health (he did a disappearing act when she had the vet here - twice... smart dog, the vet was talking of putting him a cage and injecting him full of vitamins) and still others have tried nursing him, petting him, etc etc...

I have given up my contest of wills with Flaco, and have resigned myself to a flanking strategy, which is to remove the source of my greatest frustration, the rubbish bin in the bathroom (which he has emptied 3 times and I keep on having to pick up the pieces). It is now secure in my room, I am the only person doing the full Moon course so the other folks must just find another ansible for their trash... OUT OF FLACO´s REACH.

In my newfound quest for holiness, virtue and the Light Side of the Force, I am attempting to re-engineer my feelings by occassionally feeding him and even being nice. This is a stretch to believe, and an even greater stretch for me to attempt, but doing is learning I guess. I will work on my virtue of kindness, compassion and PATIENCE all of next week...

In the interim, my newfound zen and love (in the sense that WP loves the Blue Bulls, I guess - actually hating them but knowing they are a necessary enemy) has manifested itself in a really good Sunday, where I met up with old mate Scott in nearby town Panachachel, and also bumped into a familiar and friendly face Claire from Ireland, WAAAYY BAACCCKKK from the hostel in Guadelajarra. So now I am off to sauna...

This week we do numerology, the Kaballah tree of life, the Tarot and some other fruity things. Will let you guys know if I have an out-of-body experience, find I can control my dreams or meet up with Elvis in the fifth dimension for a duet...

Hasta luego mi amigos!

Distant Mountain - the hippy formerly known as Pieter...

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. [He was] very neat in appearance but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischieviousness delightful. Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving: "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day. One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!" It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it. I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister." At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third. One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves — and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend." That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!" No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again. That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip — the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is." Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark. I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me. The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said. After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it." Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it." Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said, without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists." That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

By: Sister Helen P. Mrosla

Golden Buddha

Jack Canfield, Chicken Soup for the Soul

In the fall of 1988 my wife Georgia and I were invited to give a presentation of self-esteem and peak performance at a conference in Hong Kong. Since we had never been to the Far East before, we decided to extend our trip and visit Thailand.
When we arrived in Bangkok, we decided to take a tour of the city's most famous Buddhist temples. Along with our interpreter and driver, Georgia and I visited numerous Buddhist temples that day, but after a while they all began to blur in our memories.
However, there was one temple that left an indelible impression in our hearts and minds. It is called the Temple of the Golden Buddha. The temple itself is very small, probably no larger than thirty feet by thirty feet. But as we entered, we were stunned by the presence of a ten-and-a- half-foot tall, solid-gold Buddha. It weighs over two-and-a- half tons and is valued at approximately one hundred and ninety-six million dollars! It was quite an awesome sight - the kindly gentle, yet imposing solid-gold Buddha smiling down at us.
As we immersed ourselves in the normal sightseeing tasks(taking pictures while oohing and ahhing over the statue), I walked over to a glass case that contained a large piece of clay about eight inches thick and twelve inches wide. Next to the glass case was a typewritten page describing the history of this magnificent piece of art.
Back in 1957 a group of monks from a monastery had to relocate a clay Buddha from their temple to a new location. The monastery was to be relocated to make room for the development of a highway through Bangkok. When the crane began to lift the giant idol, the weight of it was so tremendous that it began to crack. What's more, rain began to fall. The head monk, who was concerned about damage to the sacred Buddha, decided to lower the statue back to the ground and cover it with a large canvas tarp to protect it from the rain.
Later that evening the head monk went to check on the Buddha. He shined his flashlight under the tarp to see if the Buddha was staying dry. As the light reached the crack, he noticed a little gleam shining back and thought it strange. As he took a closer look at this gleam of light, he wondered if there might be something underneath the clay. He went to fetch a chisel and hammer from the monastery and began to chip away at the clay. As he knocked off shards of clay, the little gleam grew brighter and bigger. Many hours of labor went by before the monk stood face to face with the extraordinary solid-gold Buddha.
Historians believe that several hundred years before the head monk's discovery, the Burmese army was about to invade Thailand (then called Siam). The Siamese monks realizing that their country would soon be attacked, covered their precious golden Buddha with an outer covering of clay in order to keep their treasure from being looted by the Burmese. Unfortunately, it appears that the Burmese slaughtered all the Siamese monks, and the well-kept secret of the golden Buddha remained intact until that fateful day in 1957.
As we flew home on Cathay Pacific Airlines I began to think to myself, "We are all like the clay Buddha covered with a shell of hardness created out of fear, and yet underneath each of us is a 'golden Buddha,' a 'golden Christ' or a 'golden essence,' which is our real self. Somewhere along the way, between the ages of two and nine, we begin to cover up our 'golden essence,' our natural self. Much like the monk with the hammer and the chisel, our task now is to discover our true essence once again."
http://www.bedlima.com/index.htm

ON FAITH

A little boy was overheard talking to himself as he walked through the back yard wearing his base baseball cap and holding his ball and bat. I’m the greatest baseball player in the world, he said proudly. Then he tossed the ball into the air, swung and missed. His faith unshaken he picked up the ball and threw it into the air and said to himself again, I’m the greatest player ever! He swung at the ball again, and again he missed. He paused for a moment, and examined the ball and bat carefully... Then once again the threw the ball into the air and said, I’M the greatest baseball player who ever lived! Then he swung the bat hard and again missed the ball.
“WoW ! He said. “What a Pitcher!”

- Source Unknown

The Animal School

Once upon a time, the animals decided they must do something heroic to meet the problems of "a new world." So they organized a school. They adopted an activity curriculum consisting of running, climbing, swimming and flying. To make it easier to administer the curriculum, all the animals took all the subjects.
The duck was excellent in swimming, in fact better than his instructor, but he made only passing grades in flying and was very poor in running. Since he was slow in running, he had to stay after school and also drop swimming in order to practice running. This was kept up until his webbed feet were badly worn and he was only average in swimming. But average was acceptable in school, so nobody worried about that except the duck.
The rabbit started at the top of the class in running, but had a nervous breakdown because of so much make-up work in swimming. The squirrel was excellent in climbing until he developed frustration in the flying class where his teacher made him start from the ground up instead of from the treetop down. He also developed a "charlie horse" from overexertion and then got a C in climbing and a D in running. The eagle was a problem child and was disciplined severely. In the climbing class he beat all the others to the top of the tree, but insisted on using his own way to get there.
At the end of the year, an abnormal eel that could swim exceedingly well, and also run, climb and fly a little, had the highest average and was valedictorian.
The prairie dogs stayed out of school and fought the tax levy because the administration would not add digging and burrowing to the curriculum. They apprenticed their children to a badger and later joined the groundhogs and gophers to start a successful private school.
Does this fable have a moral?

By George H. Reavisfrom Chicken Soup for the SoulCopyright 1993 by Jack Canfield & Mark Victor Hansen

Books I am reading...

So I am reading my Spanish Tarot book, a fantasy novel, 101 ways of looking at yourself and Chicken Soup for the Soul right now... check out this great little story!

What Are You Still Carrying?
by Alan Smith

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Two monks on a pilgrimage came to the ford of a river. There they saw a girl dressed in all her finery, obviously now knowing what to do since the river was high and she did not want to spoil her clothes. Without more ado, one of the monks took her on his back, carried her across and put her down on dry ground on the other side. Then the monks continued on their way.

However, the other monk, after an hour or so, started complaining, “Surely it is not right to touch a woman; it is against the commandments to have close contact with women. How could you go against the rules for monks?”

The monk who had carried the girl walked along silently, but finally he remarked, “I set her down by the river an hour ago, why are you still carrying her?”*

GOOD TIMES AND GOOD FRIENDS

Prudene dictates that I pen down some thoughts on Week 1 at San Marcos... previous blogs have eluded to what this place is all about, but I now realize it is many things to many people, depending on the time, the place, the people, the weather...

SPIRITUALLY I have had an amazing week, I am amazingly rested and I have basically done 7 yoga sessions, which kinda triples my total time with this particular activity in my life. I have done some weird things in meditation, but basically the presence of the lake, the good vibes of the people around me and the general serenity of the place is a powerful cocktail, and quite addictive...

FRIENDSHIP has been the most amazing gift of this first week. Impromptu Spanish teacher Pepe aka Gentle Dragon, incredible singer Susie aka Dark Fern (who vowed us by doing a gig at the Blind Lemon on Friday, she was amazing...), new best buddy Chris aka LakeWalker... we had an amazing week building some powerful new friendships, and I hope to see all of them again as they have now gone on their merry ways to new adventures... in the interim we are still a great crew of friends that are left, including Frank aka Wolf Bird, Nicola aka Sunshine and Sarah aka Harmony´s Edge... yeah everyone needs a hippy name out here. Everyone has amazing energy, Sarah in particular has a quiet joyousness which I find quite attractive. This next week will be different... with quite a few less people, I suspect it will be as rewarding, but on a whole different level.

PHYSICALLY it has been amazing. I spent every morning bar one out on the lake to catch the sunrise, the yoga is loosening everything up and going vegetarian teetotaller is so liberating! I feel better than I have in years... and we haven´t even gotten to the fast yet! Today I saunad three times.

MENTALLY it has been very cool. I am highly aware, the Spanish is progressing and all kinds of creativity is flowing... I will get back into the book big time this week!

Hopefully this week I will start to control my dreams... fruity....

HIPPINESS ON THE LAKE

Chris and I only stopped for a quick final beer (I had vowed to quit drinking for my month of hippiness) before getting on the ferry to get to San Marcos. The one hour boat ride was made all the more pleasant by the presence of two very cute ladies who were also on their way there, Suzy (tour leader) and Alison (part of an organized US tour called Leap Now). We promptly renamed Suzy to Dark Fern in keeping with the hippy vibe, Chris adopted Lakewalker and mine was still a work in progress…

San Marcos is an impossibly charming and beautiful little town, I knew I was going to have a great time here as soon as we arrived. Turns out we were a full day early, so we checked in to nearby hotel La Paz and that night we had Pizza and watched Syriana… not very hippy so far… and I spent a good part of then night talking comic books with Pepe, who would soon turn out to be our kickass Spanish teacher…

The next day, however, we got into it.

We did a 2.5 hours yoga session the next morning, I almost stood on my head! Good shit, and felt like a million bucks afterwards. I spent the day relaxing and reading while Chris headed off to San Pedro the nearby town. We had our first session at Las Piramides at 17h00 that night.

The Temple is shaped like a Pyramid, and walking in there we were dead quiet. Candles in the middle, yoga mats spread in the circle and spiritual leader Chatty doing her thing… it was a strange scene, reminded me of those Satan cult seances you kept seeing in Antichrist movies. However, all we did was try to meditate. I kept wondering whether one could measure Tom Cruise´s ego by the paycheck of his co-stars, which give you an idea of how deep I was…This was to be my theme for the week, my meditative state is still elusive but I am getting some great yoga in, the classes are ok but being an active 7-habiter the principles are kinda universal, it is execution that eludes us… and I am eating and feeling great, just worked through a great sauna – check out our sauna, isn´t it wild!

1. San Marcos de Laguna on Lake Attitlan is absolutely gorgeous. The weather is termperate and it rains every afternoon on the dot at 14h00, which helps. The centre – Las Piramides – is all I hoped it would be and more.
2. Me and Colorado buddy Chris swim in the lake at 6h00 in the mornings, then we have yoga at 7h00 and metaphysics, kabala, tarot etc etc class at 10h00. We mostly hang around until 14h00, we have convinced a fellow hippy-for-a-week Pepe to give us some Spanish classes – he`s good! And then we have our final class for the day at 17h00, meditation… fruity!
3. I have gone vegetarian, we cook stirfry every night and the ladies love it. I have also gone off the grog for the month, and currently I feel like a million bucks as the poison leaves my system…
4. Am getting really flexible. I can now touch my toes without bending my knees, and almost got the headstand right the other day in yoga.So life is good, will write in more detail soon!

Guatemala- PHASE 1

So I got across the border in one piece, and we were off to Panajachel Gautemala. The journey started at about 8 in the morning in San Cristobal Mexico, and we got there only about 5 in the evening... so it was a big slog! But the scenery is beautiful, the people on the bus were very friendly and I had a blast. Stayed only one night in Panajachel before heading off to Antigua for a really good time...

So Antigua is this impossibly picturesque town surrounded by volcanoes. I promptly booked a tour to see some lava flow action up real close from a volcano that started erupting again in April this year... cool stuff! Met some nice people and ended up doing a massively difficult mountain bike the next day with mate Chris from England. It was 9km of uphill, then a quick downhill... providing you are an expert, which we are... NOT. Man it was technical, we wiped out a few times but no broken bones...
















So I had a great time physically, and the youth hostels were also a blast. First night I stayed in Jungle Party Hostel, there was no party however so I elected to trail the smoking hot California girls that moved to the Black Cat. The Black Cat, just down the road, is where it´s at...

Entonces, the next day I spent the whole evening in the hostel, meeting nice people, having a monster nachos after my mountain biking ordeal and drinking dead cheap whiskeys. In amongst the activity I convinced new mate Chris from Colorado (this time an American) to come be a hippy with me in San Marcos. He was in, and the next day we set off on a new gradient...

Mexico: Wrapping things up with a BANG!!!

Wie laaste lag lag die lekkerste...

I thought an Afrikaans quote might be appropriate for a change, and while not completely relevant to the fact that my last week in Mexico topped the charts for sheer experience, it does convey the idea that those who laugh last, laugh the hardest...

Ok, to recap, and just to bring things into pespective, no I did not spend the last week reading my newly acquired book, but have been busy as a bee taking in the main events of the Yuacatan Peninsula, to wit:


CHICHEN ITZA: After a rocking few days in sweltering Merida with a fantastic crowd of folks, Sujin and I overcame lack of sleep to head off to Chichen Itza on the 6h30 bus in the morning... this ancient Maya site is halfway between Merida and Playa del Carmen, our next stop, so it made sense to do it on the way. It did not fall short of expectations, we teamed up with some Israelis to hire a kickass guide who really knew his stuff and he made the ancient Mayan civilizations completely come to life for us, including the fact that they ritually sacrificed their best and brightest - and they liked it!

After a hot morning doin the ruin thing, we spent a fantastic hour taking in the local cenote, which is an underwater cave who`s roof has collapsed, but the 30m long roots of the trees above still hang in the water - stunningly beautiful, water not too cold and crystal clear... made me think, wouldn`t it be nice to scuba in this...

We took the 14h30 bus to Playa del Carmen, the place where it all goes down...











PLAYA DEL CARMEN

Now, to bring things into perspective, the wholly overfamous Cancun is Mexico`s Costa del Sol, and to be avoided by backpackers. Much more preferable is the further south town of Playa del Carmen, still a tourist hotspot due to the adjacent island of Cozumel and its incomparable dive options... a scuba enthusiast`s dream!

At the Youth Hostel I bumped into an Aussie called Zack who set me straight - Cenote dives are the shit out here, gotta do em. After a frustrasting couple of hours where I was unable to book my dive for day 1 and NO-ONE seems to be able to do a night dive in the off season, I finally booked some Cenote Action for the next morning.

Suffice it to say, it was AWESSSSOOMMMMEEEEE.... You go down for two dives into these crystal clear underground caverns, you are surrounded by stalactites and the visibility is amazing! Probably two of the best dives I have ever done, you go down to about 15m but some of the caverns are completely isolated so you have to use your light.... Wild!

COZUMEL

If my day had ended there, it would have been fine... but after heading back to the youth hostel, Sujin told me that she was more interested in sticking around in Playa than go to Cozumel (my last stop as I would once more try to get a night dive there, but chances were slim). We said goodbye and I got on to the ferry (which takes half an hour to the island). Now what happened next is so cool!

15h40: Arrive in Cozumel, determine the place is dead and do I really want to spend the night here? Call my sister`s old dive instructor and mate Erwin, he is in town and will meet me in the square in five minutes...
16h00: Meet up with Erwin, who just came off a dive and we can have a beer later, but in the meantime why don`t I try Deep Blue Diveshop over on the corner?
16h15: Walk into Deep Blue just as they are readying the gear to go for a twilight dive, which is both a DRIFT (where the current sweeps you along over the reef) and for the second tank a night dive where they supply flashlight and everything). I sign up, show up and we`re off! I can`t believe my luck!
14h30: Set off in the boat with 4 Texans and dive instructor Javier, these guys have all logged more than 300 dives each, look mean as hell and I feel out of my league...

Suffice it to say, the Instructor was excellent, the Texans were great fun and the Reef was amazing! The water is very warm and the visibility outstanding, the sea life phenomenal (I sat down at 20m for about 5 minutes watching a crab eat some coral...) and we went down to 26m druing the drift dive, a personal record.

So, I capped off my 4 a-day cave-night-reef diving experience with some Nachos with Erwin and a ladyfriend before grabbing the ferry back to Playa and the crazy crowd back at the hostel, finally called it a night at round 2am after giving it horns on the dancefloor on the beach at the Blue Parrot bar for a while... man Guatemala will have to rock to beat this! I am right now waiting for my bus to Palenque, tomorrow morning I go over the border by boat.... not quite sure how all this is going to work, watch this space...