Finishing up in Antigua

I havent written properly since the last letter I sent you all. Turns out it’s really hard to process new experiences, learn, make ‘amigos’, sunbathe, and regurgatate for family and friends at the same time.

Last time I wrote, I was beginning to learn spanish with my teacher Sylvia, who, along with her possy of middle-aged teaching colleagues, became the mothering presence I needed in Guatemala. Making friends with hot mums in the kitchen at houseparties is a highly transferrable skill, one that those who peaked in school wouldn’t recognise.

A bosomed month of learning Guatemalan spanish later, and I’m really getting somewhere. While it’s definitely not impossible, its going to take some work to get me to where I want to be. I’ve re-confirmed for myself that learning is the perfect side-dish to enjoying a place, so I don’t mind taking my time. With enough structure and gentle fulfilment I reckon it’s easy enough to keep yourself going.

Personal life in Antigua was really sweet for my stay. I made great friends with Tom, the owner of my residential complex, and his novio, Brian, who became my gym buddy. Joined by two deeply troubling girls from the residential called Wendy and Kayla, who loved edibles and talking about poo, I wasn’t lonely past the first week.

To my surprise, many of the boys studying in my school were queer, so making friends was easy. Who knew Antigua was such a fag magnet friendly town? Over-all, I’m giving the cuidad a 8/10. Full marks if it werent for the prolific infestation of stomach parasites and the deadly onset of anal fissures I earned myself in week 3.

On my way out of the town, I left my anusol/jaccuzi rotation to climb some volcanoes as part of my obligatory gringo itinerary. Acatenango is a ~4000m volcanic summit parked next to one of the world’s most active volcanos, Volcán de Fuego. My body definitely wasn’t used to the altitude, so breathing was harder than usual, and the resultant slow hiking pace took some time to get my head around. It took us 5h to base-camp, another 4h to hop across to Fuego and back for sunset, and then another couple of hours to hike to the summit of Acatenango for sunrise. The views were nuts – I’d definitely reccoend to anyone confident in their physical abilities.

Moving to Leon

I left Anitgua a couple of days after the hike to begin finding the next school to I want to study at. I figured it’s nice to have a little break between studying, so instead of rushing to my next destination, I’d take the scenic route.

I’ve got my eye on a small beach town called El Gigante in Nicaragua for a couple of weeks extra study. To get there, I first got the bus to El Tunco (close to La Libertad in El Salvador), a surfing town with a heavy weekend party scene and not that much else to do. Here, I trauma bonded with a few good friends over the state of my hostel, and bumped into a fellow hiker from Acatenango. After nearly drowning and being swamped by sub-20 gap-yearers, I put my hearing aids back in and reassessed my search for a little more peace and quiet.

The trip from El Tunco to Leon is well-ish established but looks sketchy as fuck. Because Honduras require British citizens to obtain an obtusely convoluted visa before entry, it’s more common to take land transport to the port town of La Union, and cross to Nicaragua by speedboat. I was informed that this route was travelled by members of this year’s Celebrity Race Across the World just 20 minutes before my arrival at the migration office, so you’ll see it well documented on the telly.

Border control on the Nicaraguan side of the crossing consisted of a few security guards, and a wooden table planted on a white sandy beach. They’re very thorough about their searches in Potosí, and yet again, my douche made itself known to my fellow travellers in the queue. As I opened my rucksack for the search, it was dislodged by the rough hands of the border-patrol, rolling onto the parched concrete peer. We all giggled and I died inside.

As the ancient proverb goes, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice, and it’s a little bit icky.”

I’ve resolved to leave my little black turkey baster in Nicaragua.

Tomorrow, I’ll be taking the bus to San Juan del Sur, where I’ll stay for a couple of days to catch up with some friends. From there, It’s a short ride to El Gigante, where I’ve endeavoured to study both spanish and surfing for two weeks. I nearly got my teeth knocked out by my surf board last week in El Tunco, so if I don’t come back to England looking like Worzel Gummidge it’s a sign that my new instructor and I made a special connection.

I’ve got some deeper thoughts brewing, but I’m not sure they’re quite ready for the blog, so I’ll leave them for next time.