Colombia

For me, Cartagena is like one of those two-faced friends you can never really get your head around. On one side, it is a truly romantic city, at night a beautiful ambiance is in the air. On the other, however, you can't walk two steps outside your hostel without being offered cocaine at least seven times. Most of these 'people' are creepy, deranaged looking criminals. I never once felt 100% safe at night time, and actually have no photos of this city as I was too scared to even take my camera out with me.

I did however manage to have quite a good time out and about on the town bumping booties on the dancefloor with the locals. You have to see it to understand how hilarious their 'dancing' is. Pretty sure most of the guys should be wearing a condom it gets that hot and heavy, the local ladies will stop at no lengths to show their immense affection, and then straight after the 'dance' sit on couches at opposite ends of the club as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Just sitting down and watching the free sex shows was entertaining enough, and probably (sadly) my main highlight from Cartagena.

Next stop, was Taganga. We arrived on what must have been smack bang in the middle of some local celebration. It was a Sunday evening and there were hundreds of people lining the streets, on the beach and even swimming. Best way to be welcomed to a new place! Taganga had great local vibes, and wasn't too touristy, which was nice for a change. We stayed at a hotel right on the beach, but didn't actually go swimming once... what great travellers we are.

Taganga Beach

On my third day there, the day before Ben Troy and I started the Lost City Trek, I got a bad case of food poisoning. The next day I woke up feeling better so thought I'd be fine to do the trek... I could not have been more wrong. Ciudad Perdida, Spanish for 'Lost City,' was only discovered in 1972, and is a five day trek through jungle to discover the mysterious lost city, a great pre- Columbian city of the Tayronas. The trek was certainly no walk in the park, and was on most occasions rather exhausting, but well worth the challenge.

The jungle reminded me of a beautiful version of Jurassic Park. It was hot, humid, and often raining, but for most of us that made it all the more enjoyable. We had to cross numerous fresh rivers, and got to hike past Indigenous villages, as many local tribes live in huts the jungle still. We only walked 4 hours on average a day, and slept in hammocks under huts of a night time. It was such a great feeling camping out in the jungle like that, and certainly something I won't ever forget. These kind of experiences are the ones that shape your trip, and make it a whole lot more interesting.

The food was a major highlight, but unfortunately due to my stomach bug that just would not pass, I couldn't keep anything down. Troy was also sick, but out the other end - so Ben found himself feeling like Healthy Harold next to his amigos 'Spewy' and 'Pooey.' After three days I was too weak and in so much pain we were forced to turn back. Ben and Troy, who looked after me like brothers, were kind enough to accompany me back to Taganga, unfortunately earlier than expected.

The rivers turned a beautiful orange because of all the rain!

Very Jurassic Park like

Local Indian tribes

The huts they lived in

When you travel with people for long enough, your friendship becomes so strong you honestly become a family. Day in day out: eating, sleeping, partying, and doing daily activities together; there isn't much you don't know about each other. It also helps you find out a lot more about yourself. When I first started this trip, I think I was trying very hard to "work out who I am," what I like, etc etc. I think I am at a point now where I understand myself a lot better. Although I'm definitely at a point where, I think the best way to put it is, I am still very much growing into myself.

I've still got so much to learn, but I'm enjoying it every step of the way. The more you challenge yourself and embark on various adventures, the more you begin to learn and understand. This is one of my favourite parts of travelling. I have grown up and into myself so much in the past few months it's not even funny. My perspective on what is most important in life has been completely altered. But the best part is that there is still so much more to come, and I am finally learning how to appreciate the world and everything it has to offer me all the more.

Sailing the High Seas

Travel. It makes life more meaningful.

It seems the story of my life has only just begun. With a new destination every week and overwhelming adventures always around the corner, my chapters may be small - but by god are they poignant. So much so I find it hard to believe that the next chapter could ever live up to the previous one... Somehow, so far, I am yet to be let down. Travelling without any plans whatsoever is definitely the way to do it. It means you are open to everything and anything that life throws your way. Your life becomes limitless, the way it should be.

For me, this was sailing to Colombia from Panama. With the choice of a flight for $200, or five days of sailing the Caribbean and visiting the Sand Blas islands for just double the price, it was not a hard decision to make. I am not sure if my words can some up how breathtaking this journey was, but i'll give it a go. Lucky pictures help speak many thousand words.

The only bad thing about the boat trip, Never Smile was on board. An American late 20-something social retard who didn't drink alcohol and had the sense of humour of a five year old... hence the nickname. We'd met him previously in Utilia, he happened to be in my diving group. So as everyone has experienced at least once in their lives, I had exhausted all avenues of pointless conversation with him. He was lucky enough to become the first person on my trip that I took a well deserved disliking to.

We had to get an hour long cab to where the boat was docked, and somehow Mitch Troy and Ben were together in one, and I ended up with Never Smile and Trent - who had flown down from Canada after a bad breakup. Next to Never Smile, he became the second, and so far, final person I have felt hostility towards on this trip. Again, definitely well deserved - if you keep following this blog you'll find out why... a rather interesting story.

Michel and Cecil, a lovely french couple, were our captain and crew for the five day sailing adventure. Sailing the Caribbean for a rather generous living, they've definitely got their lives sorted out. In total, we spent three days exploring the San Blas islands, and then it was 40 hours straight sailing the open seas to arrive in Cartagena, Colombia.

Cecil and Michel, completely and utterly in love.

The San Blas islands is an archipelago of nearly 400 islands, of which only about 50 are inhabited, mostly by the Kuna Indians. There are honestly no words to describe how beautiful the San Blas islands are. They are an unspoiled paradise, which became our playground for three days. Having the boat was the best part, we could just jump into the glorious ocean anytime we felt like it, go snorkeling, fishing, or swim over and just explore the surrounding islands. What a life!

A guy from the Kuna tribes trying to sell us this shell. Legend.

The Kuna people would often approach the boat to try and sell us things, or sometimes come over just for a chat. We did buy some fresh lobsters at one point, something ridiculous like 5 for $30. At one point, a little albino boy approached the boat, just to say hello. It was a strange sight at first, seeing a white boy rowing towards us, and we all turned to Michel and Cecil for an explanation. We were all saddened to learn that often the Kuna tribes don't exactly live in harmony, and some are inbred. This poor little boy, and one of his sisters, are both albinos.

This is easily the saddest picture I have ever taken. This boy was covered head to toe in scabs and blisters, a result for the Caribbeans harsh sun. Obviously living off the land means the Kuna tribes have no access to doctors or any kind of medication. It also means they have a hard time hiding from the sun. What a painful life this boy must live, and many others as well. It's not all paradise in the Caribbean. My heart really went out to this boy.

Another perfect Caribbean Sunset

The rest of what we explored of the Caribbean, however, was simply awe-inspiring. Unfortunately, their wasn't enough wind to sail for most of the time, but that didn't stop us from lying on the bow of the boat, enjoying the breeze, soaking up the sun, and simply living the life.

Lieutenant Dan you ain't got no legs

On our last day in the San Blas, we swam over to an uninhabited island, where we were to make a fire and have dinner - fresh fish - that evening. We spent the afternoon drinking rum, straight from the bottle of course, and trying our hardest to absorb the beauty of this magical land. Looking back on the photos, I can't help but smile to remember how happy we were. It's one of those things you are lucky to do once in your life, and I can't explain how much this part of the trip impacted on me. There are so many parts of this world that will bring you such immense satisfaction, delirium, and pure exhilaration. It makes your heart beat faster, and it makes you love life a hell of a lot more. It also comes along with one of those smiles that is so big and lasts for so long that your face hurts from the pleasure. An easy price to pay if you ask me.

Drinking rum in the Caribbean, pirate style.

RIOT squad.

Mitch taking a stroll. Oh so perfect.

After our three days spent in my version of Heaven, it was 40hrs straight sailing to Colombia, and for me that meant almost 40hrs in bed. The seas were rough, and there was a pretty big storm. In the end, we made it, to the oh-so different world of Colombia. A different kind of excitement was rushing through my veins. A new chapter had begun and I couldn't wait to delve straight into it.

Panama City

Having heard good things about Panama City, we were excited to back to the mainland, back to reality. Promoted as Central America's 'Party Captial,' it felt more like Panama City was the cosmopolitan capital of Central. Sporting a stifling skyline of highrise buildings, anyone could be fooled to believe we were back in Sydney or somewhere alike.

Luke James and I were drawn to Casco Viejo, a bedraggled yet gorgeous neighborhood, made up of historic buildings and cobbled streets - just a touch more interesting than the steel towers that lay across the ocean Luna's Castle, old mansion turned hostel, was our home, or I really should say playground, for the week we were stationed here. Looking off the balcony over the Pacific Ocean, this hostel had everything, and I mean everything, to offer.

Mitch stoked upon finding the movie room

Theatre aside, this four level backpackers paradise accommodated over a hundred people, had free breakfast, four chill out rooms (all featuring guitars which got regular workouts), and most importantly, a downstairs gorgeous bar and deck area that was open until 3am. Obviously, we didn't have much reason to leave this hostel... except of course to visit our good old friend McDonalds. A ritual almost all backpackers have when visiting a city.

On one occasion when Mitch and I were having a lengthy lunch in the air conditioned heaven of Maccas, we started talking to a middle aged Jamaican guy, Rick. He spoke perfect English (and French as well!) and had a cast on his right leg up to his thigh. He told he was on holidays in Panama, and just a week ago had been hit by a car and broke his leg badly. Lying on the ground, waiting for help, he received exactly the opposite. Locals robbed him of almost everything -shoes, wallet, hat, shirt, and most importantly, his passport. When police came by and he tried to call out for help, they just assumed he was another bothersome homeless drunk, and left him lying on the ground, thinking about what a wayward world this really is. Rick became a good friend of ours, and visited us at our hostel on many occasions while he waited around pointlessly in Panama for an emergency passport.

Stories like this really do get you thinking... would something like that happen in Australia? Of course not. We are so blessed to live in such an amazing land, where everybody - be it neighbour, colleague, friend, family - will always have your back. It's crazy to think that such antics like this happen all over the world, and how many heartless people we live amongst. Travelling really does open your eyes, and allow you to take off those rose coloured glasses, and sometimes see the world basked in all it's true grotesqueness.

Mind you, it's not all bad. Actually, most of what you discover over here opens your eyes to a kaleidoscopic world that's completely hard to comprehend, and gets your thoughts all tangled up in some kind of fuzzy web.. It makes you wake up, and see the world in a different light, and take problems, dilemmas, opportunities as you would have never done so before. Seeing the world helps you see yourself, right through that mirror and deep into your soul. It definitely helps you to understand or work out the kind of person you want to be. Definitely not the kind who'd steal from someone in trouble. Or steal from anyone for that matter.

Done and dusted with Panama City after a few wild nights out, and many days in the movie room, it was time to prepare for our trip to Colombia... To fly or to sail, that was the question. $400 or thereabouts got you four days frolicking around the San Blas islands on a yacht, and eventually delivers you to the unknown land of South America, Cartagena in Colombia to be precise. With activities and meals all inclusive, it wasn't a hard choice to jump on that boat (ha ha, pun intended) for a magical trip across the Caribbean. Wouldn't have it any other way. Wait til you hear all about it, promise you'll either die from jealously, or book a flight to Panama City as soon as your working day's over... sucker. xxx

Bocas

Bocas Del Toro is the kind of place any person will straight out love or hate. Or hate to love for that matter. It projects a rather appealing slow way of life, great nightlife, and the right kind of company that found me stuck there for two weeks.... a good week and a half longer than I'd planned. The only bad thing about this slice of Caribbean paradise is that access to the beach is never as easy as just walking out your front door. A $10 taxi to one beach and $8 boats to the others meant one thing for me: I saw Bocas' glistening coastline only four times in the two weeks I was there. Partly due to the face it rained almost ever day! What else we managed to do to pass the time beats me.

Ness Eddie and I arrived on Bocas and straight away chose Mondo Taitu for our temporary home. It's acclaimed 'wacky tree house vibe' didn't quite live up to the standards we expected, but we moved into what we appropriately named ''The Apartment,'' as that's exactly what it was.. A cute little mini house as an extension to Mondo meant that we had three rooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen all to ourselves. Felt like home all over again... Us three girls had a room to ourselves, quite a nice change from the standard budget 13 people dorm rooms. There were about 15 of us all up in the apartment, so initiation of the new family in here could only lead to the obvious: name-tags with nicknames for those of us with alcohol induced bad memories, and a good old game of Kings to break the ice. Work's like a charm every time.

Class of the Apartment

Mondo was quite an interesting place for a party. Famous for it's weekly dress up's and never ending list of parties and activities, we soon caught the Bocas' Plague of insomnia, and found ourselves turning nocturnal. A sleep-in until 4pm in the afternoon became a regular part of our lives... I actually found myself on more than one occasion going to bed at sunrise and not seeing the sun again that day.

The staff at Mondo was probably one of its best parts. We made good friends with a Sarah and her boyfriend Joe who lived in the room next to us. Besides from the fact that we could often hear them in the room next to us late at night throwing the hot-dog down a wide hallway, they were a big part of the Apartment's family. So naturally, when we found out she was moving to the other side of the hostel and a new amigo Nacho was moving in, we decided his initiation would be taken to a new level..

A welcome note I left on Nacho's floor

It's amazing what you can achieve with a little bit of Peanut Butter and Honey. We found out the hard way that Nacho was actually the brother of the Mondo's owner. That didn't stop him from cleaning up the mess we made however.

Yum

We'd found out in the earlier days of Joe and Sarah's sex life that our styrophone roof could be removed and we could see into their bedroom next door, and sometimes throw condoms and the like at them while in the act. After one particularly large night out at Aqua Louge - a ridiculously loose bar accross the river that goes off for Wednesday's ladies night- Ness and I returned home, and brought some pots and pans into our room as preparation for a morning of vomiting that potentially laid ahead of us.

Smoking a big spliff seemed to put us back in the right mindframe and the pots and pans were put to a good home on our heads as a disguise, along with some black shirts to cover our faces, we went into the roof full ninja style, ready to mess with Nacho one more time. A quite 'ello through the roof successfully scared the shit out of him, and we managed to successfully creep him out. ''What are you watching?'' we asked in a creepy old ladies voice, referring to whatever he was looking at on his laptop, most likely some sort of gang rape porn. He looked around the room trying to work out where the hell our voices are coming from... ''Wanna know what we are watching?'' - a three minute pause trying to contain the laughter from our oh so stoned selves - ''You''. He got us back the best way possible: made all the staff cut us off from the bar the following night. Pretty sure that poo story is now famous around Bocas however, easily worth a night of thirst.

Epic disguise

After a week at Mondo we decided it was time to move onwards and upwards to Heike, a lovely hostel with a perfect deck area on top. My introduction to this lovely hostel was ah, quite different than most others I would have to say. After another big night out at Aqua Lounge (we had nothing else to amuse ourselves with, it rained every fecking day) I climbed up to my top bunk, striped off to my undies, and prepared myself for another 3pm sleepin. Half way through the night I was rather strangely awoken by someone's hands massaging my back.. As nice of a gesture as it may sound, quite a weird way to be awoken. As soon as I realised what was going on... well you can imagine how I reacted.. The Belgium guy from the bottom bunk seemed to think it was a good idea to give me a drunken massage at 5 in the morning.'GET OUT OF MY BED, GET OUT OF MY BED, GET OUT OF MY BED,' I screamed several times. Refusing to get out, he tried to convince me, 'but this is my bed.' So I drunkenly crawled down to the bottom bunk, and for some reason later that morning he thought it would be a good idea to join me down there. He was trying to explain that he was only being nice, trying to give me a massage. I wonder how many girls he's pulled with that technique before!!

After the masseuse left us, two English lads, Luke and James were our new room mates, and happened to be people Ness had previously met in Nicaragua. Luke and James are easily some of my favourite and the most funniest people I've met this trip. The Aussie boys from Utilia had also caught up with us by this stage, so a rather large night out amongst the many, many, large nights out we had was once again in order. With the Aussie boys typically having their eyes on the pussy prize, James included, Luke and I were the last men standing. Being tight ass travelers, a good game of minesweeper was in order. I'd distract a person while Luke would swiftly and professionally steal their drink. An 40-year old German man called Julian, who we'd met a few times before and absolutely hated, copped it the worst. Swapping his delicious Rum punch for an even better cup of sea water was one of the funniest things I've experienced for a long time.

On arrival back to the hostel at about 5am, Luke and I were in dire need of a spliff to put us to sleep, and were on a mission to find James who had the papers. After literally knocking on every single dorm room with the hope of finding him in bed with his new lady friend, we managed to turn the whole hostel against us. I'd do the knocking, and Luke the talking - queue posh English accent - ''Hello, sorry to wake you up, but we are looking for our friend James, he's a diabetic and he hasn't taken his medicine today, we desperately need to find him.'' After successfully turning the whole hostel into life long enemies, James suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs and threw us a the room key, and disappeared again. The key was far from what we wanted, so we secretly followed him downstairs in search of the papers, and of course to have a little perve.

Very gentleman like, James had actually taken his missus on a raunchy date to no where but the showers. Luke and I snuck into the cubical next door, and with a little boost up I had a full view of them role playing crouching tiger hidden penis. After catching my breath from trying to hide my laughter, I managed to call out ''Give it a lil lick'' - a personal joke, something James once said to his ex girlfriend.. what a charmer!

We did manage to get the oh-so important papers, watched the sunrise and prepared to leave for Panama City for some more crazy adventures.... xx

Costa Rica is renown for being a magnet for Americans, obviously meaning it's the last place that I would want to be hanging around for too long. It's also a complete rip off compared to the rest of Central America's countries, which I think proves Americans are the ones who set the Gringo standard, and just love to be ripped off. Despite this, San Jose, the capital, really struck me as quite an interesting place. Streets lined with all types of tranny prostitutes, a whole lot of really cool street art, and a subtle hint of violence looming in the air were just some of the eerie and peculiar things that can turn another boring city into exactly the opposite.

We arrived in San Jose only minutes before midnight, and stumbled into Tranquillo hostel, instantly drawn in by the relaxed and welcoming vibes. A few people from Byron were having a jam in the foyer, with the sound of the familiar but almost forgotten didgeridoo vibrating down the hallway and out into the silent streets. We straightaway felt at home.

Tranquillo Hostel

Another reason why Ness and I fell in love with this wayward city? More Ropa Americana's. In my opinion the only good thing that's ever come out of America, besides Johnny Depp. We spent a whole day frolicking around the somewhat contemporary streets of San Jose, in and out of every thrift store we could find. Every time we walked into a store our hearts would be thumping from desire - there was just too much good stuff to take in. Obviously, this was our version of the finest of heavens, and of course we did go a little overboard with our spendings, resulting in us both leaving a ridiculous pile of old but eternally loved clothes behind at the hostel for others to have a chance to enjoy.

Two days in San Jose proved to be enough, so we packed up our things and were bound again for the bright and beautiful Caribbean coast. Puerto Veijo was the desired destination, another gorgeous coastal town with the right kind of laid-back attitude. Our home for the next three days was Rocking J's, one of those hostels that really stands out from the rest. Covered head to toe in mosaic tiles, enlightening quotations, and more abstract art that you could poke a stick at, this place was hands down my favourite hostel to date.

One of the best things about Puerto Viejo are the miles and miles of beach stretching along the coast in both directions from the middle. Another plus, our hostel had a prime beachfront location. A 10 minute walk through down an ambient shady path lead us to the always picture perfect white sand beaches of the Caribbean. Five minutes at this pristine beach and we all knew how hard it was going to be to leave.


We spent the afternoon doing what all travellers learn to do so well... nothing. We laid on the green grass all afternoon smoking doobies, drinking rum, and having the best conversations about life and its mysterious ways. That's another thing that you often find yourself frequently doing whilst travelling, getting in depth with the best kind of thoughts about life, and reflecting on all it's glory. Unhappy days generally don't exist whilst you happen to be living the dream in paradise.


After a delicious taco dinner at the hostel restaurant, Ness and I set off into town to satisfy one of our many stoner traditions: eating snickers. At about 9pm and half way into town we were stopped by the owner of a Greek restaurant who seemed ready to do just about anything to get us to come into his restaurant for dinner. First he gave us samples of his delicious tapas food, and said we could eat as much as we wanted for half the price, only $6 each. We refused his kind offer, over and over again having to inform him we'd already eaten. ''Ok ok ok, what if I give you free alcohol, and you can both eat for $3 each.'' He obviously couldn't take a hint and we tried apologising again and walking away.

''OKAY,'' he shouted after us ''what if you both eat and drink here for free, and just leave my staff a tip.'' This was evidently an offer that full bellies aside, we obviously could not refuse. So we ate a scrumptious second dinner for the evening, whilst being entertained by a middle aged crazy American hippie who seemed to be on the run from something, who had countless card tricks and lame jokes for our amusement. We left what we thought was a rather generous tip of $2 for the waiter, and set off home. We were so ridiculously full on the walk back that we both ended up leaving a trail of spew behind us... Only to make room for more beer of course.

More updates to come!
xxxxx

Nicaragua

Granada

I left Utila alone, as Ness was already in Leon in Nicaragua so I was keen to catch up with her. I arrived in Granada a day before Ness and Eddie, and was totally exhausted from over 25hrs of travel, and a sleepover in a hostel that looked more like a psych ward in the dirty capital of Nicaragua.

Nicaragua was the first place that I stumbled across a Ropa Americana store - they are Latin America's version of op shops, and all the clothes are sent down from America as donations. Because there is not one trendy local getting around Nicaragua, all the amazing op shop finds must have been sitting there for years, and are just waiting to be snapped up. Such a gold mine for the best vintage finds, and it's all so ridiculously cheap!

Granada is a really gorgeous little city with a whole lot of charm. When Ness and Eddie finally arrived we did a bit of exploring, but decided we were definitely overdue for big catch ups, and an equally large night out on the town. One bottle of Rum down and Eddie was destined for bed, so Ness and I went out to take on Granada alone. We'd read in the lonely planet that there were some nice bars by a lake, so we tried to make a cab driver take us to there. The little Spanish we scraped together between us didn't do us too well at all. We would have been saying something along the lines of 'fiesta' and chucking in a few swimming motions. Even though Lago is Spanish for lake, Ness was throwing out some word starting with K, so the cab driver ended up taking us to this strange place called Kayak, which was completely dead bar.

Next to it however we heard some pumping music so decided to very drunkenly stumble into this hilarious bar full of locals. We pretty much didn't get off the dance floor the whole night, and made dancing partners with some 40-odd-year-olds, who teared up the dance floor with us til the early hours of the morning. The music at this place was probably the best part - it was the ultimate mix of 90's cringe songs mixed together by a terrible DJ who obviously didn't even pass grade two.

A local chick must have been off put by my enthralling dance moves, after thumping into me with her over sized booty a few times I was sure she was ready to smack my face in, so we decided it was time to leave. The cabbie taking us home took us down the most dingy unlit dirt road, and Ness and I both thought we were done for. We drunkenly and half jokingly screamed at him several times that 'We're gonna fuck you up motherfucker!!' In fits of laughter I told Ness to zip up her bag cause it was on, and we were totally ready to cause some damage to this creep. Luckily it was a false alarm and we made it home safely at sunrise, ready to nurse the following day some of the worst hangovers of the trip.

Next stop in Nicaragua was San Juan, which didn't really float our boat all too much. Nonetheless, we met up with the Aussie guys I'd met in Utila and together we explored what San Juan had to offer, and found the most amazing pool that overlooked the whole town, and had the best views of the ocean. We spent the afternoon there drinking beers in preparation for another one of those a little to large but always the best nights out on the town.


With the beaches being overly average and the locals almost creepy, we decided to head to the American filled land of Costa Rica. More on that later..
xxx

Utila

After hearing about Utila, the drinking island with a diving problem, I couldn't think of anything better than escaping solo for a few days to get my diving ticket in paradise. A 4am wake up and 2km walk with my oh-so heavy backpack, I was bound for Honduras. This was going to be my first taste of travelling alone, and I was excited to see what was to come.

My bus over the boarder was something I won't forget. The second class buses are always packed to the rafters, and on this trip I found myself with a 6-year-old Honduran beauty perched on my lap, next to her mum and little brother. Language barrier aside, I found myself in fits of laughter for the whole trip, simply overjoyed with the company of her adorable self. We eventually made what I consider a mighty trade: she gave me some of her marshmellows in exchange for one of my ipod earphones.

I don't think she'd ever seen an ipod before, and she instantly fell in love. Trying to think of what music she would enjoy the most, I obviously firstly chose Spice Girls, which was a big hit. I found myself travelling for the next 3 hours listening to an array of horrible yet hilarious 90's pop songs, the kind I myself even wondered why in god's name where they even on my ipod in the first place! I was sad to see the little beauty go, but on departure she gave me the most compelling hug and kiss, saying more than any language could ever interpret, and sending goosebumps down my spine.

I arrived on the coast of Honduras, and had to wait overnight before catching a ferry over to Utilia. I somehow found myself wound up with a half-tard 30-something IT German weirdo, who made claims to me that 'Alternative music has killed the live music scene,' even though the stupid dinosaur he couldn't name for me one alternative band, besides Nirvana, that he has listened to. I was so close to poisoning his soup with ratsak that night.

So after a somewhat large amount of travelling, I finally made it to Utila! I chose Alton's dive school for my week long diving adventure, simply for it's jetty. Rolling out of bed pretty much onto the boat was also a plus, but the jetty really topped it. Words can't quite describe this, pictures can speak these 1000 words for me:

Utila was nothing short of amazing. On arrival I instantly sunk into one of the hammocks, only to hear a familiar accent coming from behind me, belonging to four Aussie guys. Jarrod, Mitch, Ben and Troy, all from Sydney, were my company for the next week. There's something about Australian's that as a fellow Aussie you just can't not love. I'm pretty sure it comes down to having a laid back dry sense of humour, plus being able to give and take a joke without qualms. I laughed how stoked they were to hear things come out of my mouth that reminded them so much of home. Just little things, like 'No biggie,' 'Old mate' and 'Ohh have you got sand in your vagina.'

Diving is one of those things that you can't help but fall madly in love with. It's your ticket to explore the unknown world that lies beneath the ocean bed, full of creatures that live a life we could never fully understand or even try to imagine. The colours, the corals, the fish, everything about this contrary world never ceases to amaze me, and every dive I did I fell deeper and deeper in love with the oceans mysterious ways.

I enjoyed my week with these guys nearly as much as I enjoyed diving itself. From getting stoned and daring each other to 'eat a dog and shit a kitchen,' to doing flips of the end of the jetty, we partied pretty hard, and had a lot of laughs. One particular favourite day was out on the Keys A chef from Altons had organised this day for months. $25 dollars bought you unlimited food, alcohol, weed, and a shitload of fun on a beautiful little Caribbean island off Utilia. The staff had the day planned perfectly, with reggae music pumping and the sun blaring, we bathed in the pristine waters, eating the most delicious fish and pork whilst drinking ourselves to a new level of stupidity. We all agreed it was easily the best Sunday we've ever had.

The best Sunday ever.

After a fabulous week away in a little slice of Caribbean paradise, I was off to meet Ness and Eddie again in Nicaragua, for some more wonderful adventures. More on that later.

Adios x