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Anete in front of a wall in Livingston.
I sat in the waiting room of the Centro de Salud, the local health centre, in Livingston. From the open door, I could see the sea. A bunch of Garifunas had gathered around a nearby bench and started drumming. The waiting room of the health centre was full of Mayan
Anete enjoys Semuc Champey.
We bump up and down in the back of a pick-up truck, shuffling and shaking over a road so potholed it would make the cobblestones in Paris-Roubaix look like a newly paved highway. Six travellers from Ecuador hold onto their big boxes of takeaway pizza and their ice coolers. Their
Chicken buses in Guatemala are often cramped.
“At least a couple of times a month, a chicken bus plunges from a cliff.” A sentence from Lonely Planet drummed in my head louder than ever. Holding on to the seat in front of me, I stole a glance out of the window. The bus slowly ascended a dusty mountain
Tom and Diesel on Friend Ship, floating on Lake Izabal.
“The captain is out to lunch and the sailors have taken over the ship.” (Charles Bukowski) Day 7-8-9 on Lake Izabal: Tom Remember the subtitle of the first part of this mini-series, ‘A Million Ways to Die on a Boat’? I wonder if there’s a world record for hitting your
Anete on a kayak on one of the side rivers of the Rio Dulce
“The captain is out to lunch and the sailors have taken over the ship.” (Charles Bukowski) Day 3: Tom Sleeping on the boat was not easy for me. I’m quite a troubled sleeper in general, and the boat didn’t help. Cramped spaces, fair enough. It’s no fun, but hard to