Central America & Caribbean

Copan to Kapan: nine months of travel, summarized into oblivion

Today is one of those days on the road to reflect on what you’ve done, where you’ve been and what is ahead of you. These days are the worst and the best, but mainly the worst. Since the 29th of December 2013 - minus 10 days in my Passport Nation (PN) - I have been traveling 2,5 continents by anticipated happenstance, sporadic opportunity and a shameful slice of manipulation. That is already nine months of growth, but it would be silly not to acknowledge the decline as well. Many things and people have suffered by me putting my thumb up somewhere on the globe and blogging about it; that is not a side effect. Apologies. Tonight I am writing this in the middle of Mordor (a fine place, a.k.a. Meghri) on the Armenian side of the border to Iran, in a surprisingly un-mediocre motel. I can feel nothing but gratitude while acknowledging my privilege and suppressing my oppression. And no,… Read more >

Panama’s Border

Welcome to Panama! Yesterday’s bordercrossing picture from Costa Rica to Panama, hitching into David around sundown with yet another good Samaritan from Honduras. It was a tight call whether I could cross, but I made it! The Panamese immigration officer asked me for my (fake) flight ticket to Madrid and it worked, then he asked Read more >

Trapped in Paradise

There’s a place called Paradise. In fact, there’s many of them, all a flight away from Home. At the club in a resort the adults are the only ones left after their children have gone to bed. A day full of turning-lobster-tanning and swimming in the hotel’s pool – located next to the sea – is over. The included breakfast, lunch and dinner have been eaten for a week. Tomorrow it’s time to get on the airplane and go back home, so the gringo doesn’t sleep tonight, the males and females of ripe and over-ripe age go to the club to drink piña coladas and rum-cokes. At 11 p.m. a little Latino boy walks out of the darkness of the beach over to the hotel and tries to sell some of his mom’s tamales. He’s from what once was a beach-side town, born and raised there, and probably has to go to school tomorrow morning. The little boy approaches 62-year-old… Read more >