I have very mixed feelings about the latest big city on our travels. It was at the same time the best and worst city I have been to in my life.

As a rule, I do not like big cities. Sure, they usually have at least something interesting, and I do love a good public transportation system, but in general I have not enjoyed the time I've spent in big cities. The exception to this would be Auckland, but it doesn't really feel like a big city at all.

In big cities it takes forever to get anywhere, it's crowded, noisy, dirty and I feel completely cut off from nature, where I truly feel at home. Rome is no different. In fact, it was probably worse in these aspects than anywhere I have been. There are almost no parks within the city, graffiti and trash are everywhere and I've never seen so many tourists in my life. Plus food and accommodation are absurdly expensive.

But despite all these drawbacks, I really enjoyed visiting Rome. Why? Because it's worth it. I have never seen anything man-made that is more impressive than the buildings of ancient Rome. It is truly awe inspiring to stand inside something like the Colosseum. Constructed with ancient but revolutionary building techniques, it has endured 2000 years or neglect, vandalism, weather and war and still it is standing. You can truly feel the history surrounding you as you stand within the walls. Just be prepared to spend 15 euros to experience it. And the Colosseum is just one of countless ancient buildings in the city. The Vatican. The Pantheon. The Sistine Chapel. These are just the well known ones. Walk down nearly any random street in central Rome and you will most likely see something centuries older than the oldest building in the US. Getting to see these places up close is truly worth the fight with crowds, exorbitant prices for everything and all the other discomforts of the big city.

Pisa was equally impressive. It's not quite as old as the buildings of ancient Rome, but standing there staring at the Leaning Tower is just... weird. You really can't understand from just looking at a photograph what this building is like. For one thing, it is much bigger than I ever pictured it. I had always thought it was a pretty small tower to be able to lean so much and not fall, but it looked huge up close. Plus, it's quite hilarious to watch all the people there. Everyone has to get a picture pretending to hold up the tower. Literally every direction you look there is someone posing with their hands in the air, and someone with a camera trying to line up the classic shot.

All in all, I immensely enjoyed my time in these 2 cities in Italy. Would I ever want to live there? Definitely not. Even spending a few weeks there would probably drive me insane, but to spend a several days exploring these ancient buildings with great friends was truly an experience I will never forget.

Two months ago I knew for a fact that I would never, ever, crash a motorcycle. How did I know this? Because I knew that I would never ride one. My whole life I've thought they were way too dangerous, and had never even considered getting on one. Then something changed all that. The "Top Gear Vietnam Special."

On the plane to Thailand, we had a fantastic selection of movies and shows we could watch on the little TV's on the back of every seat in the plane. After watching a couple episodes of "The Simpsons", I found the Vietnam special. To make a long story short, they spend 7 days riding motorcycles through Vietnam, and it is amazing.

2 weeks later, Sam and I were renting our motorcycles in Ha Noi. I won't go into the details of the entire trip. Don't worry, the videos will come out soon. I just want to describe one particular event.

Day 3, Cam Pha city on the east coast. We're just riding through, the traffic not particularly bad when suddenly (as is often the case in Vietnam) someone pulls straight out in front of Sam. He managed to stop, but I saw it just a split second too late and when I hit the brakes my tires found no traction on the wet, slimy pavement. I went into a slide, turned sideways and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the ground with a nice bruise on my hip and some very muddy jeans.  I was a little shaken, but otherwise fine.  With the help of a friendly local from a shop across the street, we got my bike fixed and were on our way.

3 weeks later, we'd been living in Chiang Mai Thailand for a while and I got tired of being confined to places within walking distance or taking son taus (pickup trucks turned into taxis).  I decided I would go rent a motorbike since they are ridiculously cheap (mine was $3 a day).  Plus the traffic in Chiang Mai, compared to Vietnam, is almost civilized.

For a week I rode around without incident.  Looking for good books, exploring the city and some of the mountains nearby.  It was very nice, and I started to think about how nice it would be to have a motorcycle when I got home.

Sunday morning, I went with two of our couchsurfing friends to Wat-Umong, an awesome temple, and then got wonderful Thai massages for $3.  On the way back, we're riding along when a truck in front of me suddenly decides to stop in the middle of the road.  I saw this and started to slow down with plenty of time to stop, not noticing that this section of the road was covered with a light dusting of dirty and gravel.  I found myself in the very familiar situation of my bike sliding sideways.  I didn't fall off the back this time, though, I continued to slow down controlling the slide.  Just when I thought I was actually not going to crash, my tires hit clean pavement, came to a screeching halt and threw me directly off the bike.

For a minute I just sat there in the street next to my bike.  I really couldn't believe I had just crashed again.  Alwyn and Paul rode up on their bike to see if I was ok, and other than a nasty looking scrape on my palm, I was.  They drove me back to my apartment and Alwyn skillfully helped me deal with my injured hands.  As she was pouring hydrogen peroxide on my hands and cleaning dirt out of my scrapes, I decided.  I'm so over motorcycles.

While exploring Vietnam by motorbike, I had a very strange encounter with some Vietnamese farmers.  Sam has already detailed the beginning of this scene in his recent blog, but he did not explain what happened to me afterwards.

I had had a few shots of their very strong alcohol, not as many as Sam but enough to feel a little light headed, and we headed off down the road to find a place to recover.  A little ways down the road, I realized that I had forgotten the map back at the house we'd stopped in.  We had gotten it out to verify with them that we knew where we were going.  I knew it would be near impossible to find an English map outside of an tourist areas, so I decided to head back and get it while Sam waited for me by the road.

When I got to the place, I was greeted by smiles and handshakes just like before.  I tried to tell them that I had forgotten my map, but of course they didn't understand.  Then I noticed it sitting on the table by where we had sat, so I went over and picked it up.  It was at that point the atmosphere somehow changed, and I must admit the scene is now a bit blurry in my mind.

As soon as I picked up the map, one of the guys walked over and took it from me.  He started pointing on the map and talking to me, but of course I couldn't understand what he was saying.  I assumed he was talking again about where we were going, so I tried to indicate on the map that we were headed to Cat Ba Island.  He just kept talking to me and pointing at the map.

At this point I started to get a little frustrated, I just wanted to take my map and hit the road.  When I tried to take it he wouldn't let me have it.  I reached for it again and this time he grabbed my wrist with his other hand.  I tried to tell him I just want the map so I can go, but obviously he still didn't understand.  I tried to pull my arm away but he tightened his grip and wouldn't let go.

That was when I decided I just need to get out of there.  I quickly grabbed the map with one hand and using a simple self defense move, broke his grip on my wrist and backed off.  Another of the previously friendly guys came over and they both stood between me and my motorbike, talking to me and pointing at the map.  I had no idea what this was all about, but I knew it was time for me to leave.  I quickly pushed passed them, jumped on the bike and rode off, a bit shaken and extremely confused.

Obviously I had missed something in the exchange.  I had just come back to get my map.  Didn't they understand that?  The only thing I could thing of was that maybe they'd thought I had given them the map as a gift, and when I took it back they got angry.  It didn't seem that way though, it was more like they were trying to show me something on the map.  I guess I'll never know.

Photo by ImageMD.

I had no idea what to expect before coming to Cambodia.  We came here mostly on a whim, wanting to get out of Bangkok, and only knowing a couple of towns that we wanted to go to.  We first ended up in a hotel called "Me Mates Place" in the middle of Phnom Penh, Cambodia's capital.

It turned out to be a wonderful stroke of luck.  The place was very nice, reasonably priced, and the staff was amazingly friendly.  Sometimes a bit too eager to try and sell tours and touk-touk rides, but mostly they just like talking to us.  The area of the hotel was great as well.  Hot, dirty, crowded, and completely absent of tourists.  We were able to walk around without constantly being asked to buy something, or get in a touk-touk.

After the chaos and psuedo-culture of Khao San road in Bangkok, it was great to be able to see real Southeast Asian city life.  The endless little shops and street venders, the insane motorcycle traffic, and people everywhere.  It is crazy, but at least it's real.  This is the kind of thing people don't get to experience when they only go to the tourist-spots.  Sure, it may be a little harder to find a good internet connection, or a waiter that speaks English, but to me it's totally worth it.

We spent a couple days in Me Mates Place, not doing anything, really.  We just enjoyed being there.  Afterwards, at the recommendation of fellow travel-blogger Nomadic Matt we went to the tiny fishing town of Kep.  It was a great recommendation.

The first day, we noticed a motorcycle rental place right by our hotel.  Expecting it to be expensive, we checked it out and found that we could get two motorcycles for the entire day for just $13!  How this is profitable, I have no idea.  We gladly accepted their offer and spent the whole day cruising around the countryside, just taking it all in.  It was as much a cultural experience as exploring the capital.

There aren't anywhere close to the number of people in the country as there are in the city, but compared to the Kentucky farmland I'm used to seeing, there are people everywhere.  Riding on these roads requires extreme concentration.  When someone wants to merge into traffic, they just pull out, and it's up to you to not hit them.  There is no such thing as right-of-way in this country, but as long as you pay attention and just expect everyone to pull in front of you, it's not so bad.

On the way back to the hotel that afternoon, we road through a hilly section surrounded by big trees, I was concentrating on the curves up ahead and after a minute, realized that Sam wasn't behind me.  I turned around and saw him with his camera looking into the trees with a huge smile on his face.  I went back to see what he was looking at, and realized it was monkeys!  Lots of monkeys!  They were climbing in the trees all around us, even little baby ones.  I've never seen wild monkeys before, so it was a really wonderful moment for me.  I can't believe I just rode by them without even noticing.  The exciting times on this trip just don't seem to end.

The problem is the location.  We're right in the middle of a big tourist area of the city.  It's crowded, loud, dirty and it feels like someone is constantly trying to scam me wherever I go.  Possibly because the first thing that happened when we got here was to get scammed by  taxi drivers.  Whenever I've gone walking through the city, people are constantly trying to get me to by things, tell me my fortune, or get me in their taxi.  I always ultimately get fed up and go back to the hotel.

There is one redeeming quality to this city, however.  The food.  At a street vender, a good plate of pad thai is about a dollar.  Spring rolls, fresh fruit drinks, and many other delicious things are even cheaper.  In a nice restaurant, the food is about 3 or 4 dollars a plate and quite amazing.

Yesterday I took a cooking class, which was also quite cheap, and learned to make 2 of my favorite dishes, pad thai and green curry, as well as spicy prawn soup which is quite amazing.  We made everything from scratch, all the sauces and spices.  We even made the coconut milk.  Everything was delicious.

I'm sure my opinion of Thailand will improve as I see more of it.  In a couple days we will be staying with a couch surfer, who hopefully will be able to show us the city outside the tourist traps.  I know there is a beautiful and fascinating culture to be discovered here, I just haven't figured out how to find it yet.

After travelling up the east coast with Sam for a few days I learned that the rest of Australia is not like Lennox Head.  All I found were beaches full of tourists and surfers, the waves so crowded that it was almost impossible for me to catch one.  After a few frustrated days, I said farewell to Sam and headed back to Lennox Head.

I don't know when I will have the opportunity to surf again in the future, so I am just not ready to leave behind this perfect surfing community with it's gorgeous beach. 

I wake up and go surfing, then I eat lunch, read for a bit, go surfing again.  In the evenings I go swimming in a gorgeous lake which is died red from the surrounding tea trees.  It's basically a lake full of tea.  The next day I repeat the process.  Yeah, it's a tough life.

For the past 2 weeks, I have been attempting to surf.  I emphasize the word "attempting" because up until this week I have been quite unsuccessful.  Every time I went, I just got frustrated.

The beaches in Sydney and in Newcastle are all quite crowded, which means the places with good surfing waves are full of people.  This makes it extremely difficult for a beginner.  I spent pretty much the entire time paddling around trying to find a gap in the people where I could try and catch a wave.  Then I would be so tired from paddling that when I tried to actually catch a wave I would be unable to get up the necessary speed or someone would have moved in front of me so I was too afraid to ride the wave for fear of hitting someone.

I kept this up for almost 2 weeks, determined to get the hang of it but becoming more and more frustrated.

Then I discovered Glenrock Beach.  I had checked it out once before, and it was full of kids from the nearby Scout Camp, so I didn't bother trying to surf.  But on Monday, I went back after seeing more people at the major beaches than any previous day.  There wasn't anyone at Glenrock.  It was just me and a small family (not surfing) on the whole beautiful beach, and perfect waves rolling in just asking me to ride them.

Excitedly I threw on my wetsuit grabbed my board and jumped into the ocean.  I paddled out to where the waves were breaking, spun around and waited for the next wave to break.  Then the unthinkable happened.  I actually caught the wave, and stood up.  Just like that.  I rode the wave almost all the way to the shore.  Then I paddled back out, and did it again.  I was actually surfing!  I couldn't believe how easy it was.  For almost 2 hours I caught one wave after another.  Half the time I was laughing out loud, overcome with excitement.  Surfing is just too much fun.

The scenery, while not as spectacular as in South America, was gorgeous and varied tremendously.  One minute I'd be walking through a grassy valley along a sparkling clear river, then I'd go around a corner and find myself in a forest of ancient gnarled beech trees.  I might then cross a river and suddenly the entire forest floor is covered in huge ferns.

The first night I camped by myself, in a nice open forest area where the ground was so soft I could have slept without my ground pad.  It would have been perfect were it not for the one big nuisance to be found in New Zealand - Sand flies.

Sam and I had encountered them in small numbers before, little gnat-like flies that buzz all around your head, and really enjoy biting hands, feet and any other exposed skin they can get to.  We could bear them when camping from the car, but to be out in the woods surrounded by millions of them was nearly unbearable.  I frantically cooked my food while swatting at them and running around my campsite to keep from getting bitten and then when my food was finally done, grabbed it and jumped inside my tent for the night.  After that I decided I would be staying in the huts.

The entire second day I walked through a forest of beech trees where nearly everything was covered in moss.  The tree trunks, ground, rocks - everything.  I almost felt like I was in a different world, and not seeing anyone for hours, felt like I had the forest all to myself.  I kept picturing scenes from fantasy books I have read being played out in the woods around me.

On all of the major trails in New Zealand there are what they call "Backwoods Huts."  They are basically hostels in the middle of the wilderness, with bunks, sinks, and bathrooms.  You can sleep in one for 15 NZD a night, or camp outside and use the facilites for 5 NZD a night.  Which meant for less than 3 american dollars I could set up my tent outside, then go in and cook food out of the rain, and away from the sand flies.

It is an awesome system because I got to hike by myself all day, which I really enjoy, but at night I could stay at a nice place and enjoy the company of fellow travelers from all over the world.  Within 4 nights I met someone from Israel, Germany, Sweden, Australia, England, and the Czech Republic.  We had great fun chatting about the differences between our countries, playing cards, and telling of the things we'd seen hiking that day.

They have turned backpacking, which is mainly an activity done alone or just with friends, into a very social activity where it is easy to meet fellow hikers and like minded people.  It was a fantastic 5 days of hiking, which I will not soon forget, and it made me sad to be leaving New Zealand so soon.

It felt like it had been a while since I'd had an outdoor adventure. Since Fitz Roy I'd hung out in Buenos Aires and then Auckland, and while traveling around the north island was fun, I was ready to get back into some serious wilderness.

Having waited a couple extra days in Taupo for the weather to clear up so we could go skydiving, we got to the town near the Tongariro crossing a later that I would have liked.  We arrived in the evening, just as the info center was closing and they told us we had to book a shuttle for the next morning if we wanted to do the hike.  We didn't have any days to spare because we had to get to Wellington to take the ferry to the south island.  Feeling rushed and a little stressed, we decided to go ahead and do the hike the next morning and booked our shuttle.

We got up early from our campsite by the nearby lake and drove to where the shuttle would pick us up.  After about 30 minutes, they dropped us off at the start of the trail, with about 50 other people getting ready to do the same hike.  This was frustrating, I really don't like being around so many people when I'm hiking, preferring to be alone or with a small group, but the weather was nice and the trail was beautiful, so it didn't bother me too much.

We ate some breakfast and set off on the most beautifully maintained trail I've ever seen.  Nearly the entire thing was gravel lined with 2x6 boards, and stairs built into every incline.  After hiking through mud and rocks in Patagonia, this was a cakewalk.

An hour long hike brought us to the toughest section of the trail, a half hour climb known as "The Devil's Staircase."  Again, compared to the hiking we'd done a couple weeks before, we were not phased.  Sam and I passed pretty much everyone we came to hiking up, pleased with ourselves that we were in such good shape.

At the top of the staircase, the start of the pass through the mountains, we found ourselves looking up at an awesome red volcano, which (with some added CGI) was known in "The Lord of the Rings" as "Mount Doom."  We had been told not to climb it if it was cloudy, but at the time the sun was shining and we could clearly see the top of the mountain, so we decided we couldn't pass up the opportunity to climb such an iconic mountain.  We began our long trek up the steep slope to the summit.

At first, the terrain was solid and there was a decent, although steep, path up the side.  We followed it for a while before the ground became too soft to hold a trail, and then we just aimed for the peak and hiked upwards.

This was incredibly tiring hiking.  At fairly high altitude, with terrain on which my feet slipped back 6 inches for every 12 inches I stepped up, I got tired really fast.  And to add to that, before long, a solid blanket of cloud rolled in and covered the mountain, making it impossible to see more than 20 meters in any direction.  We knew it was easy to get lost on this mountain in the clouds, but we had come so far we didn't want to give up.

After 2 hours, hiking farther and farther up, having no idea how far we'd come or how much we had left to climb, my legs barely working, I was ready to quit.  I told Sam this, and he insisted that we keep going.  "Lets just go a little farther," he said.  Reluctantly I agreed.  After hiking a bit more, I looked up and saw rocks sticking up that looked very much like the top of a mountain.  Excited, I hiked up to them only to find that behind them were more rocks even higher up.

Each time we got to what looked like the top, we found that there were higher rocks than where we were standing.  The climb seemed to go on forever.  Not only that, it was incredibly windy and cold.  I thought volcanoes were supposed to be warm!  We kept going and going, however, and eventually the terrain started to level off.  At long last we found ourselves on a treacherous rocky ridge, with a broken off sign post marking the summit, completely surrounded by clouds, and the coldest most incessant wind I have ever felt.  After about 30 seconds of looking at the non-existant view, we were ready to head back down.

Little did we know, the adventure had just begun.

The beginning of the decent was easy, being on solid rock, but after a few hundred meters, the rock gave way to the lose sand and gravel that we'd been climbing nearly the entire way up.  After some trial and error, I found a very efficient way of half walking/half sliding down the gravel which could be quite fun.  The problem was all of a sudden I'd hit a solid patch and nearly be thrown to the ground.  Or sometimes the rocks were too big to slide down, but not stable enough to walk on, which made navigating them gracefully nearly impossible.

It was in one of the sections that I lost my footing completely, stumbled sideways on the slope before landing on my butt on the ground.  But where I landed was smooth packed earth, and I suddenly found myself sliding extremely fast down the mountain.  Unable to dig my feet into the ground, there was nothing I could do but stop myself.  Terrified, I had visions of sliding right off a cliff or into a big rock which I couldn't see through the clouds all around me.  After about 50 meters, sliding faster and faster, I finally hit a patch of deep lose sand and dug my feet into it with all my strength, finally coming to a stop.  I then heard Sam yelling for me, unable to see me through the clouds.  "I'm Okay!"  I yelled.  I then heard him saying to the camera that he thought he'd just lost a friend.

I stayed sitting on the ground while he carefully made his way down to where I had stopped, and when I finally stood up, found that I had sand pretty much everywhere, and a very bruised butt.  At least I'd stopped safely, though.  I shook myself off, and we continued our decent.

Leading the way, I kept trying to follow paths where other people had come up or gone down the mountain, but it was nearly impossible to stay on track.  Feeling like we were too far north, I kept heading in a path which felt like would take us back to where we'd started, but there was really no way to tell.  I cursed myself for going off trail without a compass.  I've been hiking too long to make a mistake like that.

After a while I became increasingly sure that we were not going in the right direction, we had hiked a long way up the mountain, but I knew we'd descended more than we'd climbed.  Yet still we couldn't see through the clouds.  With nothing else to do but climb down, we continued.

After what seemed like forever, the clouds cleared enough for me to see where we were and I realized we were way off track.  We were at a point probably a kilometer south of where we needed to be, and way lower on the mountain than where we had started from the established trail.  We had the option of going further down to  a section of trail that we'd already hiked, or hiking along the mountain back to where we had started.  We were both quite anxious to get off the rocks as soon as possible, so we decided to hike down to where we knew the trail was, and rehike half of The Devil's Staircase.  I was frustrated to have backtracked so much, but mostly just glad I knew where we were.

When we finally reached the trail, exhausted, we ate possibly the best tasting lunch we've ever had and laughed at what we had just done.  Reluctant to move, but determined to get to the shelter before dark we continued the hike to where we would spend the night.

The rest of the trail was amazingly beautiful.  We hiked up across the ridges of two volcanoes, with craters and sulfuric lakes the whole way.  It was still cloudy, so we couldn't really see the views of the valleys, but the hazy cloud filled sky added to the atmosphere of standing somewhat precariously atop calm but active volcanoes.  Almost like we were surrounded by smoke.  We even saw signs telling us what to do if one of the volcanoes suddenly erupted, which apparently could happen at any time.  We joked that it would quite an exciting vidcast to film us fleeing from an erupting volcano.  Luckily there will be no such episode.

A few hours and kilometers later, we reached the shelter and found that it was definitely worth the extra price to stay inside than to pitch a tent that night.  It was on the verge of raining, cold and windy, but inside we found a furnace, bunks with mattresses, and even a stove with which we could cook.  Grateful to be inside, we immediately threw down our bags, ate some dinner and got to know some of the other hikers staying in the shelter with us.  Sam and I both fell asleep at about 8:00 that night.  It was a great end to an eventful day.

Leaving Patagonia - Not having much time, and not wanting to spend 30 plus hours on a bus, I took a plane. And it only cost about $20 more than the bus.  So my journey took 3 hours, was comfy and hassle free.  Except they confuscated my cooking fuel.  I made it through 4 flights with that stuff.  Oh well...

Buenos Aires - Probably my least favorite place so far.  No offense to the great friends I made there, the city just has nothing I really look for in a place.  It's just a big city.  I don't like being so far from nature.  I couldn't even see outside the city the entire time I was there.  We were by the ocean the whole time and I never even saw it.  Santiago was huge, but at least I could see mountains in the distance.

Auckland - By far my favorite big city in the world.  It's just awesome.  Everyone is amazingly friendly, there's lots to do, and if you drive north, west, or east you hit amazing beaches.  Drive south and you get the rest of New Zealand.  Plus, it's so spread out that you never really feel like you're in a big city.  It is definitely a place I could live.  Maybe one day...

The Car - During week 2 in Auckland, we finally gave in and bought a car.  Everyone we talked to had said it was the only way to travel New Zealand.  A 92 Subaru Legacy Wagon.  It's old, ugly, and slow, but I love it.  Maybe it's being in such a great place, or that it's basically an old version of my dream car, or simply that I haven't driven in 3 months, but I've been driving it around New Zealand for a week and still get excited every time we go somewhere.

The Northland - After we bought the car, I was really excited to go exploring with it.  Finally we had the freedom to go where we want in this country.  Sam and I sit down to plan our trip and he tells me he needs to stay in Auckland for a few more days to finish web projects.  Grr... So, I took the car north by myself.  For three days I drove around the Northland, checking out beaches, meeting locals, and doing little hikes to the numerous landmarks. 

My second night I ended up camping at a place called Sandy Bay.  It is basically a perfect little surfing beach, with gorgeous waves and soft sand.  Wishing I had my own surfboard, I settled for watching the surfers as the sun went down. 

On my way back to Auckland the next day, needing a break from driving, I stumbled across a little Miners' Museum in the town of Hikurangi.  Seeing that it was closed, I was about to drive off when a little old lady came out and told me she would open the museum for me.  Not only that, but when she let me in she then gave me a personal tour of the whole place.  It was great to listen to her tell all about this former mining town's history.

Heading South - Since then, we've been driving south, stopping in different towns throughout the North Island.  We've been in Taupo for a couple days now, which is basically the tourism center of the North Island.  Basically, any outdoors activity you can think of, you can do it in Taupo.

Soon - We'll be heading to the south island, for backpacking, more beaches, and who knows what else.

I went to a cheap hostel and dropped off my excess gear, and entered the park.

I thought I knew what to expect in Fitz Roy.  I had just spent 4 days hiking in Patagonia, and knew all about the high winds, sudden rain and cold.  I was all set to go through just such an experience again.  What I didn't expect, however, was that the weather would be so amazing.

The first afternoon I hiked in to the first campsite.  The sun was shining, and there was no wind at all.  It was absolutely perfect.  I set up my camp and found a nice spot by a gorgeous lake to fix my dinner.  Eating Mexican rice, I watched the sun go down behind the most awesome mountain range I've ever seen.  It was one of the most perfect moments of my life, and I will not soon forget it.

The next morning I awoke and set off to the next campsite.  It was only about 2 hours away, but from there I could do several day hikes to the different viewpoints in the area. 

I started off on what appeared on the map to be a short, fairly easy hike.  What I didn't realize from the lousy map I received at the visitor center was after about a mile of hiking the trail heads nearly straight up a mountain.  Luckily, I was in good enough shape at this point that it wasn't terribly difficult, and the climb was definitely worth it.  The top of the ridge provided awesome views of glaciers, jagged mountain peaks and a frozen lake.  I watched with envy as climbers set off across the lake to climb even higher into the mountains and wished I had my climbing gear with me.

By the time I got back to my campsite that afternoon I was thoroughly worn out.  I had intended to do another day hike, but at that point all I wanted to do was relax.  I fixed my dinner, and played some cards with a guy I'd met at a hostel a few days before.  I was glad to have some company after hiking by myself the whole day.

That was the one night that it was truly cold in the park.  As the sun went down, the wind picked up tremendously.  The wind blowing across the tops of the trees sounded like waves rolling across the valley.  Each one bringing colder temperatures as the night went on.  Eventually I slept, but not well.

The next morning, the wind had finally subsided and it became an absolutely gorgeous day.  I had perfect views of all the mountains around me as I hiked to the next campsite, which was a beautiful spot in the trees with a river on one side and more awesome mountains on the other.  I set off on another day hike, this one up a rocky ridge which took me to a beautiful overlook of an awesome glacier and the lake below it.

Hiking out on the fourth day, again with perfect weather.  It occurred to me just how lucky I had been.  To get 4 days in Patagonia without rain is a very rare occurrence.  While tired, I did not feel the weariness that I had after hiking in Torres Del Paine.  As I approached El Chalten once again, I couldn't help but have a smile on my face.  Backpacking doesn't get much better than that.

-

We gave ourselves the luxury of sleeping in our first morning in the park.  We had our shortest day ahead of us, and it had been raining all night, so nobody was anxious to get up.  Even so, Sam and I were awoken by Sarah´s perfectly whistled rendition of Revelry.  Apparently our idea of sleeping in is different from our companions.

It was a paid campsite, so we had the luxury of cooking in the enclosed kitchen area.  They even had stoves for us to use so we didn´t have to spend our own fuel.  It felt a little like cheating, to be camping and have a place to go inside, but it was cold and we were half asleep, so nobody complained.

We started our hike at about 10:00 that morning.  The weather was decent, although cold.  Clouds had moved in obscuring our view of the mountain peaks, but at least it wasn´t raining.

Just like the day before, as soon as we started hiking Robbie took off at a pace impossible for anyone to match.  Everyone else went on at their own pace, spreading out along the trail.  I´ve never been a fast backpacker, I like to go at a reasonable pace, take breaks and take pictures, so I was content to be behind everyone else.

After a couple hours of fairly easy hiking, we reached our campsite for the night and set up our camp.  Now came the fun part of the day, hiking up into the Valley Frances.  It was about a 6 mile hike, going up in elevation about 3000 feet, I was very glad to not be carrying my pack.

When we had climbed for about an hour, we started to see snow on the ground.  After another 30 minutes, there was a lot of snow, and the wind and lack of sun made it very cold.  Sarah and Sam decided they had gone far enough, and started back down into the valley, but Robbie and I chose to keep going.

The higher we hiked, the more snow we encountered.  It was quite a wonderful hike, to be up in big mountains surrounded by snow covered trees, with a beautiful glacier and river in the valley below us.  Robbie and I had a great time hiking and talking about whatever came to mind.  We eventually reached the campsite we were aiming for, and decided there was no point in going to the higher viewpoint an hour away.  With so many clouds, we wouldn´t be able to see anything anyway.

The hike back down was even more enjoyable than coming up.  We could see down into the valley, the lakes and fields below us, and descending had the added benefit of it getting warmer the farther we went.  However, about halfway down the mountain, I noticed that my right ankle was starting to hurt a bit, which worried me, but I didn´t think much of it at the time.

The third morning we woke up early.  We had the longest and most difficult hike of the trip to do that day, so we didn´t waste any time getting on the trail.

At this point I was starting to get pretty sore.  It had been a long time since I´d done any trekking, and my legs were complaining.  My knees ached on the downhill sections, and my ankle hurt on the uphill sections.  The wind was strong and cold, and I hadn´t seen the sun all day.  I found myself getting very frustrated, especially knowing how far I had to go.

After a particularly unenjoyable stretch of going up and down many steep little valleys, I started to get angry.  I really didn´t want to be hiking anymore.  Then I came upon a section of trail with a huge hill on either side effectively stopping all wind.  It was a nice little spot to take a break.  I sat down and had some trail mix and suddenly had a revelation.  ¨What the heck am I complaining about?¨ I thought.  ¨2 months ago I was sitting in an office drawing signs, and my knees hurt then, too.  Now I´m in possibly the most amazing place I´ve ever seen, I have absolutely nothing to be angry about.¨

From then on I had a much better attitude about the hike.  Sure, my knees still hurt and my ankle felt worse with every uphill climb, but I considered myself lucky to be there.

By the time we all got to the campsite, it was dinner time.  We had hiked roughly 15 miles that day, the second half being uphill and in the rain/snow.  It was the longest I´d ever hiked in one day, and I felt triumphant, despite the nagging concern that my ankle was not getting any better.

To set up our tent, we had to first clear away snow.  There was about 3 inches on the ground, and we did not have warm enough sleeping bags to camp on top of the snow.  After quite a bit of snow removal, we pitched our tent in wet mud, with snow constantly falling off the trees and melting inside the tent.  Finally after drying the inside of the tent with a dirty shirt, we had our tent set up.

We went to the little wooden shelter and started to cook our dinner when a National Park employee came over to talk to us.  He was staying in a little cabin in the campsite, and after talking for a minute, he told us we could join him in the cabin.  Grateful, we all piled into his little living room and sat around the wood burning stove.  It was so exciting to be inside with a warm place to sit and eat our food.

We stayed there for a while but eventually had to go back into the cold and go to bed.  It was the coldest night yet, windy, high elevation, and it snowed three inches that night. 

We woke up to what only can be described as a winter wonderland.  Snow covered everything, including the tent, and there was still snow falling from the sky.  Leaving our camp as it was, we began to hike the 1 hour extremely steep section to the viewpoint where in good weather conditions you can see the famous Torres for which the park is named.  After about 30 minutes of going up, Sam stopped in the trail saying he was not feeling well.  He told me to go on ahead with the others and he would catch up.  I continued up the rocky snow covered trail until I found Robbie and Sarah waiting for us.

After waiting a few minutes, we were all worried that Sam had not caught up yet.  It was extremely cold, the sun had barely come up, and it was snowing even harder than before.  Knowing that Sam had no hat or gloves, I couldn´t convince myself that he was ok on his own.  I told the others to go on ahead, and I went back down to find Sam.  About halfway back down the trail, I found Sam slowly hiking down the mountain.  He did not look good, and said his knee was hurting a lot, so he had started heading back.  Not wanting to hike all the way back up the trail I´d already climbed once, we both decided just to head back to the campsite.

At this point I had a decision to make.  Sam was leaving the park that day, and the rest of us were going to continue around the full circuit of the park, for an additional 4 days.  I really wanted to continue the hike, but my ankle had continually hurt more and more in the past 3 days.  I don´t know from what, but it felt like it was sprained.  After much carefull consideration, I decided it would be best to leave with Sam.  I didn´t know what was wrong with my ankle, but I was afraid I´d get halfway around the circuit and not be able to walk anymore.

About the time I made my decision, Sarah and Robbie returned from the Torres viewpoint.  They told us that as soon as they got up there the clouds cleared and they had the most amazing view of the Torres.  We all laughed, knowing nobody could see anything through the snow clouds, and they admitted that they got up there, couldn´t see a thing, and left because it was unbearably cold.

Sam and I said our goodbyes, packed up our gear and headed down the mountain.  After hiking for a bit, I felt like my ankle didn´t hurt as much as it had been.  Optimistic, I began to think ¨Maybe I don´t need to leave the park.¨ Those thoughts were quickly silenced when a long uphill stretch sent sharp pains through my ankle with every step.  There would be no continuing the hike that day.

A half hour from the shuttle pickup, we emerged from the foothills onto the grassy fields below, and the sun came out.  It was the first time since we´d entered the park that any of us had seen the sun.  It made me very depressed to be leaving, defeated, on such a beautiful day.

After a while I started to feel better about it, though.  Sure, I hadn´t made it as far as I wanted to, but I had done the most difficult 4 day hike of my life, through the most awesome mountains I´d ever seen.  I had made it to a place I´d dreamed of going for months, where most people will never get to go.  I realized just how lucky I was.

And as for hiking the full circuit... I will be back.

On the bus to the park, the stress of the previous 24 hours gave way to calm excitement. If I'd forgotten anything, it was too late now. My goal of making it to this place, our reason for traveling so far south, was actually coming true. It seemed so long ago when I learned of Torres Del Paine, to finally be going there was almost surreal.

As we neared the park, the mountains we would be hiking in came into view. Even from far away the park was impressive. The enormous scale of the place, it appeared simultaneously daunting and inviting. Massive pieces of granite jutted up from the ground, fading from the green of trees at the base up into the jagged black and white peaks of rock and snow. After driving nearly the entire length of the park to the southernmost starting point our bus dropped us off and left. We ate our packed lunch by a beautiful blue lake, relishing our final hearty meal of the week. Little did we know that day would also be the last chance we'd have to enjoy sunshine until we left the park.

After walking about 100 yards down the gravel road, we found the start of our trail. We paused, and said a few word about the start of a great adventure, and our hike began.

At this point I don't think it had really sunk in that I was actually in Torres Del Paine. Hiking the beautiful grassy fields with blue, glacier fed lakes and the mountains before me, blue skies and little wind, it just seemed too good to be true.

Our good weather held out for about an hour. Then the rain came. The wind. The cold. Remembering our guide's advice, I did not immediately go for the rain gear. I pressed on through the cold, hiking as hard as I could to keep my body temperature up. If it had been just a few degrees warmer, I think it would have worked but on that day in November, hiking in the near freezing rain with nothing but a t-shirt and thin pants, I was cold.

After a while the sun did come out again, and just as we were told the sun and the wind had us dried off and warm in no time. Again I was greeted by the beautiful views of the mountains and lakes I'd be walking around for the next 8 days. It was as if Patagonia had thrown it's worst at me, tested me, and then shown me why it was all worth it.

The weather held out for the remainder of our hike that day. We arrived at our first campsite warm and dry, but we set up camp hastily knowing that the weather could turn at any moment.

I was very glad we did because not 30 seconds after getting the tent up it started to rain. After a big spaghetti dinner we all went to bed early, it had been a long day and we had another one ahead of us. We were all asleep before dark.

Not only will it be a challenging, awesome backpacking trip, but the first time Sam and I have separated on our journey for more than a day.  Not that that's a bad thing, in fact quite the opposite I think.  We have been together nearly 24-7 for almost 2 months, and while we still get along great, time apart will definitely be good.

Preparing for a trip like this is a very stressful endeavor.  Not only do we have to make sure we have every piece of gear we will need but our food needs are quite significant.  Preparing food for a week, for 3 people hiking at least 10 miles a day is no easy task.  We have to make sure we have enough nutrients, protein and calories that we will have the strength to complete the journey, as well as varying the meals enough that we don´t end up eating the same junk every day.  Having good food is a huge moral boost at the end of a long hike.

I am quite glad to be going on this trip with 2 other experienced backpackers, but I still feel the stress of everything needing to be perfectly prepared.  Patagonia is not a forgiving place, and it has been a long time since I´ve done a hike even close to this demanding.  I doubt I will sleep much tonight.

For me at least, there will be no new blog post or photos for at least a week.  After the backpacking trip I will hopefully be going to El Chalten for a few days and from there meet Sam in Buenos Aires so we can continue our journey.  An exciting 2 weeks is about to begin.

Sunday morning I set out to have an adventure.  

I had spent almost a week surrounded by awesome mountains of Patagonia and had yet to climb any of them, so I decided it was time.  I packed up the cameras, some water and food, picked a road that looked like it went to a mountain and started walking.

About a mile from town I noticed a broken down fence.  Beyond it was a trail leading off into the woods in the general direction of the mountain I wanted to climb.  I figured that was as good of a sign as I was going to get.

The trail led me up the hillside below the mountain, winding through trees and farmland, climbing over or under fences.  I had the feeling I probably wasn't supposed to be there, but frankly I didn't care, and there wasn't another living soul in sight.  I pressed on.

After about an hour of wandering through the woods, occasionally losing the trail but always finding it again, I came to the base of the mountain.  From there on it was extremely steep and there was no trail to be seen.  I had come too far to just turn back, so I headed up the side of the mountain.

At this point I was thankful that we've been walking so much the past few weeks, as this was not an easy hike.  I felt like I was in much better shape than when I climbed Volcano Pacaya.

When I got above the tree line the wind hit me like a tidal wave.  I was literally almost knocked off my feet.  For the rest of the hike I was battling winds coming at me from all directions, while struggling to keep my footing on the loose rocks.  It was exhausting, but every time I got frustrated I turned around and saw the most amazing view of the valley below me, and found the strength to push on.

After struggling up the mountainside for what seemed like forever, although in reality was only about an hour, I came to the base of the cliffs.  My goal had been to get to at least this point, but still I wanted to keep going.

I worked my way farther up the mountain, around the base of the amazing granite cliffs, with no idea how far I had to go.  Just when I was about to give in and start back down the mountain, I rounded a corner in the rock and found a cave!

Not a deep cave, it only went back about 20 feet into the cliff, but as soon as I stepped inside the incessant wind stopped.  I actually felt warm, comfortable.  It was the perfect place to eat lunch, regain my strength, and continue up the mountain.  Sitting in a cave, on a mountain in Patagonia, looking out over a valley of farmland surrounded by snow capped peaks.  It was one of the most peaceful moments of my life.

After enjoying my shelter for quite a while, I decided the hike must go on.  Further and further I hiked up the mountain, looking for the most solid pieces of ground to walk up between the increasingly lose rocks, struggling to maintain footing in the brutal wind.

About an hour past the cave, the slope became nearly impassable.  The mountain was so steep, and the ground so lose, I felt like a single wrong step would send me sliding all the way back down the mountain.  I also realized that I was probably not even halfway to my lofty goal at this point, and at my current rate of ascent would probably not reach it till nightfall, and that was not a good plan.  The wind and cold were bearable with the sun shining on me, but at night the temperature drops to around freezing, and I was in no way prepared to deal with that.

It was at this point that I knew my hike up the mountain must come to an end.  In roughly 1.5 miles, I had ascended 1500 vertical feet and still had at least twice that far to go.  It sat down for one last look at the breathtaking view, and then started my descent.

The hike back down, while less physically demanding, was equally challenging.  Every step had to be perfectly placed to avoid sliding an unknown distance and the wind was now blowing directly in my face.  It took a lot less time to get back to the bottom of the mountain, but it was extremely stressful.

As I entered the farmland which I had hiked through to get to the mountain, I found something that I had not seen on the hike in.  I walked out of the trees and found myself face to face with a beautiful horse standing not 15 feet away.  As I pulled out the video camera to get a shot of it, another horse suddenly ran out of the trees and the two galloped off into the field below me.  As I retraced my steps through the fields, I found more and more horses, all watching me warily.  It made me quite worried that there might be angry farmers about as well.

I cautiously worked my way back through the hills and trees, thankful that I had my GPS device to lead me in the correct direction. I certainly would have been lost without it. Eventually I made it back to the road, and breathed a deep sigh of relief that I didn´t have to confront anyone and try to explain (in Spanish) just what I was doing.

I didn´t make it to the top of the mountain, but I did accomplish my true goal: to have an adventure, and to experience a little bit of the mountains of Patagonia.  This is quite a wondrous place to be.

I absolutely love it.

And we're not even to the good stuff yet.

I was impressed by Puerto Montt when I first saw it.  A town about the size of Lexington on a bay of the Pacific Ocean.  The bay is beautiful and blue.  It's not a fishing port, so there are almost no boats in sight except the Navimag tour boat which goes out a couple times a week.

In the distance above the skyline of the city are the snowcapped peaks of distant mountains, the start of Patagonia, reminding me of the adventure soon to come.

The public transportation continues to impress.  On Sunday we caught a nice little bus to the town of Puerto Varas a half hour away.  The ticket was roughly a dollar.

Puerto Varas is officially my favorite city we have found on the trip.  It is a small town of roughly 50,000 people located on the southern tip of the picturesque Lake Llanquihue.  There are two massive snow capped volcanoes dominating the opposite shore of the lake and the water is crystal clear.

After eating our lunch on the little peninsula by the town square we decided to go rent a kayak to take out on the lake.  We rented one for an hour, but it ended up being 30 minutes of struggling to not flip over followed by 30 minutes of enjoyable kayaking, once we finally got the hang of it.  I don't know if the kayak was lousy or it's just totally different in a 2 person kayak, but I've never had that much trouble keeping a kayak upright.

Later we watched katakers who actually know what they're doing, and wind surfers ride the breeze into the distance.  Hanging out in that town I felt like I could spend a long time living there.  It's in a beautiful location, the people are friendly, and it's just a bus ride away from some of the most awesome mountains in the world.    Kayaking, climbing, backpacking, fishing, all within easy reach.  It feels like the kind of place I'm meant to be.

Of course, I've only seen a tiny fraction of the world at this point, so I'm sure it won't be the last place I find where I want to stay, but it certainly seems perfect to me now.

From Puerto Monte we are now attempting to find the best route to Puerto Natales, which is much further south.  There are many different options for many different prices.  At first we had planned on taking a very nice ferry boat directly from here to Puerto Natales, but it is way out of our budget.  The nice thing with that route is that we know exactly what to do to get there.

Our host, Roro, has been telling us about various different ways to get there, via ferries and buses, so we will have to see which is the best for our budget and time constraints.

I don't know if we could have chosen a South American city that is more different than Guatemala.  Santiago feels pretty much like we flew back to the States.  There are mostly the same cars, the buildings look the same, even the people look like Americans, everyone just has a nice tan.  There is just the one small detail of everyone speaking Spanish.

It has actually rejuvenated my desire to get to an English speaking country.  In Antigua there are tourists everywhere and the economy depends on them so nobody really minds if you don't speak much Spanish.  They are used to dumb monolingual people fumbling through sentences in Spanish, barely making any sense.  Here, they just look at you like you're stupid.

The other day I went to the grocery store to buy food for the week.  We are making more of an effort to live cheaply now that we are not in a country where you can easily eat out three meals a day for less than 15 dollars.  I spent about 2 hours in that grocery store wandering about looking for things to eat, not knowing where anything was located or if they even carried the foods I was looking for.  While I know enough Spanish to ask someone where something is, the times I tried I was lucky to understand 3 words of the answer.  Needless to say, it was a frustrating experience.

Other than that, I have quite enjoyed my stay in Santiago.  As far as big cities go, this is definitely one of my favorites.  It is basically a big flat valley surrounded on all sides by snow capped mountains. We spent a long time walking around downtown and were often able to walk through the numerous parks to get where we were going.  On every block it seems there is a store devoted to either hiking, skiing, kayaking or wind-surfing.  My kind of place.

Looking back, I'm amazed at how far it feels like we've come already.  Only a month has passed, but it feels like much longer.  Time is slower when it can't be judged by the passing of a schedule, week after week.

One month down, eleven to go.  The trip has only just begun, but already it is changing me, showing me things I didn't realize just four weeks ago. 

Like how much I need friendship in my life.  I knew I loved my friends and family before, but to suddenly be without them, in a strange, unknown place has at times felt like being thrown overboard.  I've found myself clinging to my cell phone like a life preserver, savoring every chance to chat with someone back home.

Making new friends will have to keep me going.  So far, it has.  The Spanish school we attended helped with so much more than the language barrier.  It has provided a place to make friends from all over the world.  In just 3 weeks we have met so many great people doing remarkable things with their lives.  People with whom we could be lifelong friends, if the crossing of our paths were not so short.  I look forward to hearing their stories, as we all continue our lives in other places, and hope one day at least a few of us can meet again.

Equally important for my well being, I have learned, is being outside away from crowds and civilization.  Just two weeks in a city without respite was enough to make me feel like something wasn't right.  It was on Lake Atitlan that I realized what it was. 

The following weekend, in Semuc Champey, I was truly refreshed.  Swimming in turquoise pools, jumping from rocks and climbing waterfalls.  It was more adventure than some in our group had ever experienced, but to me it felt like home.  When we returned to Antigua, a friend commented that I was visibly in a much better mood I had been the week before.

On my final full day in Guatemala, I got the chance to do something that I've wanted to do my whole life;  Climb an active volcano.  About an hour drive from Antigua is the volcano Pacaya.  For the last 50 years, it has been spewing lava down it's slopes onto the valley floor below.

The tour took us straight up the side of the volcano to a field of lava boulders on top of the magma itself.  We carefully worked our way through the rocks, glimpsing lava beneath the cracks, steam and heat rising up from below.  Only the strong, cool breeze made the temperature bearable.

We eventually made our way to where the lava broke free from the ground, a 2000 degree stream of liquid rock.  It was quite a sight to see, and the perfect end to my stay in Guatemala.

I found a bookshelf in our host family's house that is full of old novels from the US.  It's been very exciting to have some good books to read, as it's something I love but just haven't taken the time to do much the past few years.  So far I've read 2 Michael Crichton books and am starting on an old sci fi novel, over 600 pages so far this week.  I love it.

We won't have much time for reading this weekend, as we are embarking on our most adventurous journey so far, to Coban, a land of rivers, caves and turquoise pools.  It sounds fantastic.  Don't be surprised if you don't hear from us till Sunday night.

This past weekend I experienced the best moment of the trip so far.  We arranged a trip to Panajachel with some friends we made at the CSA.  Panajachel is a city on the beautiful lake Atitlan, which is surrounded by mountains and volcanoes.  After exploring the town and finding our hotel, we gave in to the guy who had been following us for an hour and paid him to take us across the lake.

It was then that I realized what I had gone without for so long.  Calm.  Silence.  The peacefulness that comes when you get out away from cities and crowds and just enjoy nature. I hadn't been aware of just how exhausted I had become these last few weeks.  Never having the chance to just be outside without having to worry about speeding cars and persistent street venders.  Even when we hiked up the hill overlooking Antigua, I felt bombarded by the sounds of the city below us.  The thirty minutes across the lake and back were so refreshing, but also made me very anxious to get to the more outdoors oriented segments of our journey.

It was frustrating to go back to civilization again, after so short a time on the lake, but that night was fun in an entirely different way.  We just happened to be in Panajachel during their biggest festival.  The first week of October is the celebration for St. Francis of Assissi, the patron saint of the city, and it was ridiculous. 

That night the entire town square was full of people.  Loud music played while people danced and fireworks went off all around us.  I can't imagine an event going on like this in the States.  Safety precautions were pretty much nonexistent.  There were no railings preventing people from walking up to scary looking carnival rides and fireworks frequently went off way too close to the ground, sometimes flying directly into the crowd.  The main attraction was a 30 foot pole with a little flag on top, with a prize for the person who could retreive the flag.  People were constantly trying to climb the pole, sliding back down, stepping on each others heads and piling up at the bottom.

The next morning we all woke up early at our $7 hotel and caught a shuttle to Chichicostenango, a town that has a huge market every Thursday and Sunday.  We spent the morning wandering around the endless streets filled with venders.  I don't know how many times I said "No, gracias" to people that day, but by the time we left, I never wanted to see another Guatemalan mask, necklace or machete again.  Even as we rode the shuttle out of town people tried to sell is stuff through the windows. 

By the time we got back to Antigua that afternoon, everyone was so exhausted we all went to our houses and crashed.  All in all it was a fun weekend, although most of it I have no desire to do again.  I just want to be back on that lake.

It is so satisfying to finally be learning some Spanish.  I obviously won't be having any deep conversations with anyone any time soon, but at least I can interact with people on a basic level.  The one on one instruction is great.  It is so much easier than sitting in a class with a bunch of people, trying to pay attention.  Even after just three days of classes I have learned enough to improve my ability to live in this city. 
I spent about two hours wandering about the city on Tuesday.  It was the first time I've really taken to just explore without any real objective or reason to go anywhere.  I just walked, took in the sights and sounds, meandered through little shops and courtyards.  It was one of the most enjoyable times I've had on this trip so far.  This is such a great city to walk around in.
I went to do the same yesterday after lunch.  I walked into town with a light rain falling.  The kind of rain that doesn't really get you wet, just cools you off.  It was a great feeling.  It didn't last.
I stopped in a coffee shop and got a bottle of water.  For a while I sat and wrote in my journal, starting to feel a bit nauseous.  After a while, my stomach feeling worse and worse, I decided I should probably go lie down, so I started heading back to the house.
I made it about halfway home before I lost my lunch.  The rest of the evening was spent lying in bed trying not to throw up anymore, with mixed results.  With the help of some good drugs and the fact that there was nothing left in my stomach, I was eventually able to get to sleep.  Needless to say, it was not a fun day.
I woke up this morning feeling much better.  It was a beautiful morning.  I went for a walk, met some new people from the school, and enjoyed the fact that I didn't feel sick.  Let's hope it lasts.

I could immediately see why Sam likes this place so much. It has the coolest atmosphere of any city I've ever been. It's like a little town in Europe or something. Cobblestone streets, little shops everwhere, beautiful architecture. I definitely feel like I could spend a long time in Antigua and be very happy.

This morning we slept in a bit and then went out to explore the town. We first went to a little bakery Sam suggested and got a loaf of some amazing banana bread. We sat and ate it in the beautiful park in the center of town. It was one of the most content feelings I've had in this trip, to just sit in an awesome place and eat some good food. After being in Guatemala City for two weeks, it was extremely refreshing to be able to relax in an outdoor environment.

After a while we decided to go find the language school where Sam had studied years ago. We found the building, but the school is out of business. Oh well. There are about 50 different language schools in this town, so we just went to look for another. After walking about half a block we found the CSA - Christian Spanish Academy. Perfect. We both signed up for a week long Spanish class, 4 hours a day for five days one on one with an instructor. Plus they hooked us up with a host family to stay with, so we'll have an awesome place to stay and get a lot of really good language lessons. Sounds like a good deal to me.