The San Blas Islands

For the past 5 days, our lives on the mainland quickly became a distant memory. The trivialities of day to day living that you usually concern yourself with didn't matter anymore - the time, your plans for the day, or the WiFi password. We were out at sea on La Gitanita, a small sailboat which, along with the 15 passengers onboard, gently meandered it's way through the paradisal islands of San Blas before heading to Colombia.

After spending most of the morning on a Jeep, I, along with hordes of other backpackers arrived in Port Carti, where speedboats were on standby to take us to our respective sailing boats. After I'd made it on to La Gitanita (little sister of the catamaran El Gitano del Mar, which was making the same journey), it became clear quite quickly that we had a good group, which is always important when spending so much time together with strangers, especially when you're confined to such a small space. However, the old saying of "there's one dickhead in every group" was about to reaffirm it's cliché status as we found out there was one more passenger still to join us.

The first two days were spent in and around the San Blas islands. There's no other way to describe them than paradise. Coconut Tree filled islands dotted the deepest of blue waters around us, which we hopped to and from and used as a base to swim, snorkel, or just relax in the water with a beer. Kuna people (indigenous people of Panama and Colombia, who inhabit many of the San Blas islands) came by our boats during the day, offering freshly caught fish, lobster, and octopus which we cooked up for dinner, and in the evenings we anchored down and caught a dingy to one of many party islands.

It was on the second night that the last passenger to join us emerged as the group dickhead, spiralling into a drug and booze fuelled craze which resulted in him being evicted from the boat and sent back to Panama. As he abused and threatened the rest of the group, and finally proceeded to cry, it became obvious the drugs were the least of his problems in life.

Following that fiasco, our captain Jonathan made up for it by offering us an extra night anchored in the San Blas Islands, for us to relax and get a good nights rest before beginning the journey to Colombia. As there was no running water on board, we had to resort to pirate showers (jumping in the ocean), and using a manual pump toilet. Couple these conditions with a group of 14 people sleeping in an overheated cabin for 2 days and you can imagine how fresh we felt when we finally arrived in Cartagena.

Our living quarters, to be shared by 2 people and conveniently located next to the engine

The journey there was relatively smooth sailing (pun intended), we encountered no problems and had the sun on our back the entire time. It became difficult to tell whether I was tanning, already tanned, or just accustomed to seeing my skin burnt, but I did manage to avoid getting sea sick. Packs of dolphins drew us out from a slumber a number of times to put on a show, as did the odd cargo ship or oil tanker in the distant horizon, but for the most part we were the only ones out there, with nothing else in sight. It's amazing how much you slow down in situations like this, with nothing to bother you or interrupt your thoughts. It makes you realise how distracted you become when you're constantly surrounded by TVs, phones and radios. 

Having completely recharged, I won't lie, it was nice to see land again. The view of Cartagena was spectacular as we celebrated, pulling into the harbour and looking back on what was by far the most incredible, relaxing, and easiest border crossing I've ever completed. The best of all rewards was waiting for us on land - a nice shower, some air conditioning and a decent meal out together with the crew and passengers of La Gitanita.

Celebrating our arrival in Cartagena

Panama City, Panama

I perhaps wrongly presumed it would be a smooth travel day, flying from Managua to Miami to Panama, however it probably wasn't any better than my travels on the chicken buses in Nicaragua. Customs and Immigration checks in the USA during my layover were a mess, as they always seem to be at big ariports in that country. And on the flight from Miami to Panama we were caught in a split second pocket of turbulence where for a moment it felt like we were about to go down. But we made it, and following a debate with a taxi driver over the price of a cab to my hostel (frustratingly this is becoming a common occurrence where metered taxis don't seem to exist around Central America), I slumped into my hostel bed at around 11pm.

A couple of days here was enough time for a decent mix between some sightseeing, relaxing, and even managing to squeeze in a workout. On Friday I hopped on the Metro towards Casco Viejo, where on the way I stopped off at the Mercado de Mariscos to sample some fresh Ceviche. Delicious and cheap, yet since I've left Peru it has become clear nothing will ever top the Ceviche I enjoyed in Lima.

Casco Viejo (Old Town in English) is very different from the rest of Panama City. Whereas the surrounds of my hostel is filled with businesses, high rise buildings and apartments, Casco Viejo feels like a purpose built colonial area for tourists. It is beautiful however, and upon entering I immediately regretted my choice to stay at a hostel outside of the old town. I visited the Panama Canal museum, then hunted down a particular cafe recommended on a blog I found online, which serves one of the most popular variety's of coffee in the world - Geisha. Geisha coffee is one of the most premium and expensive coffees in the world and can be sold for up to $170 a pound. Panama is one of the top producers of this special blend of coffee, and just one cup will set you back around US$9.

On Saturday I visited the famous Panama Canal. In the entry line I got chatting to Iraisís, a girl from Venezuela who was also visiting Panama. It was a good thing I had someone to talk to as there wasn't a boat due to pass through the canal for another 3 hours after we arrived. Only there was one problem, she barely spoke a word of English, and my Spanish doesn't extend much further than the basics of conversation.

Ira and I at the Panama Canal

After staying to see a few small, and one incredibly huge boat pass through the canal, Ira and I headed back to Albrook Mall for a late lunch. It must've been a strange site to others in the food court - seeing two people having an extended conversation almost entirely via Google Translate, although the food court also contained a full size carousel you'd see at a fair ground, so maybe our conversation wasn't the strangest thing there.

The mammoth Dalian Highway passes through the Miraflores Locks at the Panama Canal

This morning I went for a run along Cinta Costera, a beautiful long stretch of waterfront park where many people run, bike, walk or just sit on a bench and people watch, and after almost passing out under the intense Panama heat and humidity, I cooled off in the hostel pool. I went back to the local mall to buy a few things in preparation for my boat ride through the San Blas islands tomorrow (taking me to Colombia), then hunted down another cafe serving the Geisha coffee. It's a good thing I'm leaving tomorrow as I can see this coffee quickly making a considerable dent in my daily budget. Yet as I sat back in my chair, feeling no remorse at the exorbitant amount of money I'd spent on only 2 coffees this day, I felt somewhat proud of my tenuous grasp of Spanish that had made my conversation with Iraisís all the more difficult - for it also allows me to sit in a cafe full of people, and yet be completely unaware of the conversations unfolding around me, in my own bubble of quietness amongst the numerous voices competing for my attention.

One of a few Geisha coffee's enjoyed whilst in Panama City

3 Days, 5 Countries - Managua, Nicaragua

Setting a new personal best for countries visited in under 3 days (my only personal best for that matter), I left Caye Caulker on the morning of Monday 30th November. By Wednesday afternoon, I'd made it to León, Nicaragua - along the way setting foot in Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras.

Although it looks good in my passport, I didn't really get the chance to explore too much at each stop (considering I've already spent a bit of time in Honduras and Guatemala, it was really only El Salvador I glossed over). I spent one night in Flores again, and one night in San Salvador, where we were told by a number of locals it was too dangerous to walk around the city after dark. In saying that, I still managed to try a pupusa, one of the local delicacies, albeit at a hygienically questionable food stall at the border crossing.

Pupusas at the border crossing

I arrived in León joined by Patrik, a guy from Sweden who made the same journey from Flores. León is a small University town, the first on the "gringo trail" if you're making your way down through Central America into Nicaragua. Patrik and I sampled some great street food here, but our main activity was to hike up the Cerro Negro volcano not only for the great view, but to sandboard down once we'd made it to the top. It was an easy hike, and an even easier descent, after which we were treated to some vegetable burritos (I ate 7 ... tried to get my money's worth!). It wasn't the most exhilarating of activities, but I was just happy to make it down unscathed after injuring my knee doing the same thing in Huacachina a few months back. 

Atop Cerro Negro Volcano in León, Nicaragua

The chicken bus journeys continued as Patrik and I arrived at our next stop, Granada. Granada is renowned for competing with León as the best city in Nicaragua, kind of like the rivalry between Melbourne and Sydney, but on a much, much smaller scale. After independence, they fought (not literally) for which city would become the capital of Nicaragua. Until in the end neither was chosen and Managua was declared the capital.

I enjoyed Granada more. It was like León, but bigger - more people, more cafes, restaurants and things to see. The central park area was bigger, full of horse drawn carts and somewhat surprisingly, casinos, which dotted many of the surrounding streets.

Granada presented another chance to hike an active volcano - I say hike, yet we were driven to about 20m before the summit - to see plumes of smoke billowing out of the crater of the Masaya Volcano. We took photos at sunset, then after a quick tour through a nearby bat cave, went back to the volcano to see the smoke now coloured a bright red due to lava located some 270m below the tip of the crater. On trying to get a peek at the lava (we couldn't actually see that low), many of us ended up in a coughing fit due to the toxic fumes of the smoke.

The penultimate stop in Nicaragua was the city I'd end up spending the most time in - San Juan del Sur, a beautiful fishing village turned tourist surf town. Although there was supposedly world class surfing beaches in the near surrounds, I opted to stay put, also evading the infamous Sunday Funday weekly drinking binge in order to chill out for a few days. It was the first time in months since I'd been back on my own as a solo traveller again, and after cramming in plenty of diving, hiking, partying and border crossings of late, it was rejuvenating to just do nothing, going back and forth between the hostel and the beach, a cafe or a smoothie bar, often accompanied by my journal, a book or a movie.

San Juan del Sur beach, a mere 100m from my hostel bed

I did on one occasion step out of the 5 kilometre radius I'd lazily imposed on myself, on a hostel organised tour to La Flor Natural Reserve, where the Olive Ridley turtles come to the beach en masse, during so called arribadas in which thousands of turtles arrive at the same time to lay their eggs. This way, the hatchlings will swarm the beach in huge numbers and in doing so they increase their chance of survival.

Although there were far from thousands of turtles at the beach that night, it was incredible to observe these creatures in their natural habitat during such an important phase of their species' survival. While we couldn't use cameras with a flash, I did manage to take a video on my iPhone.

After observing this process, we let off a few recently hatched turtles that were kept in artificial nests to improve their chances of survival. We stood in a line along the beach and, guiding them in the right direction, watched them swim off into the ocean to begin their life in the wild.

The best photo I could come up with using an iPhone and a red light

Not unlike the sea turtles during the arribadas, today I jostled shoulder to shoulder with countless other Nicaraguans on the at times frustratingly slow local buses, back to the sands of Managua. Tomorrow I'll take a more comfortable and unarguably less dangerous form of transport, via a flight to Panama City.

Flores, Guatemala and Caye Caulker, Belize

It's proving tricky to even remember which country I'm in lately, so I'll bundle a few of the last places I've stopped in to one blog update to make it easier to read and follow.

From Útila, Jorden, Victoria and I took a ferry and a couple of buses, making our way to San Pedro Sula, Hondruas. We were aware that San Pedro Sula is regarded as one of the most violent places in the world, having recorded 187 homicides per 100,000 residents in 2013, yet, we still felt (relatively) safe as we walked around the city during the night to find a cheap hostel and dinner.

Having survived San Pedro Sula (one night was enough), we made our way by bus back in to Guatemala and stopped at Flores for a couple of nights, where we could unpack our bags and even spend a day checking out the Mayan ruins of Tikal. Whilst mainly a place to base your visit to Tikal from, Flores was a nice little town where you could also enjoy a nice meal and enjoy a beautiful sunset over the lake.

Flores, Guatemala

Then, it was another border crossing, into another new country - Belize. Having both passed our Advanced Open Water courses in Útila, mine and Jorden's main reason for entering Belize was to visit Caye Caulker and tick off one of the scuba diving world's most talked about (many say it's overhyped) dives - The Blue Hole.

The Blue Hole (image stolen shamelessly from Google)

The Blue Hole is a large sinkhole off the coast of Belize. Circular in shape, it is over 300m wide and 124m deep, with many fish, sharks, corals, and stalactite formations. Even having our Advanced license, we were still technically only certified to dive a maximum depth of 30m. However, as is common with many dive shops around Central America, they'll take you further than you're supposed to go. We were taken down to a maximum depth of 46m, where for many divers, narcosis is known to set in (narcosis is an alteration in consciousness that occurs while diving at depth. It is caused by the anaesthetic effect of certain gases at high pressure).

The stalactite formations are found at around 42m, which means the total time you can actually spend at that depth is quite small - between 5 - 10 minutes. Yet it was incredible. It was probably the narcosis, but it felt like a dream. We stayed close to the stalactites, giving us a natural reference of where we were (when you look away from the stalactites you can't see anything - just blue ... and sharks), so you get this sense of impending doom is just around the corner, and it's easy to understand why there have been many deaths at The Blue Hole due to diver incompetence. I surfaced with more sinus problems (and blood), but with another bucket list experience ticket off the list, I'm now glad to take a break from diving for a while to let it recover.

Jorden, Victoria and I went out for dinner for our final night together and splurged on a huge, delicious, yet way overpriced (as is the norm for Caye Caulker) pizza, then parted ways - Jorden and V heading back up to Mexico, whilst I head back down through Central America and into El Salvador.

La Ceiba and Útila, Honduras

A 17 hour bus ride brought us, surprisingly lively, into Honduras, a minor milestone in reaching my 20th country visited. Fortunately, we lucked out in picking a nice hostel that was virtually empty, allowing us to get a decent night's rest and cook up a big breakfast the next morning. There wasn't a great deal to see in La Ceiba, so after a big feed we took the cheaper (and much rougher) afternoon ferry over to Útila.

Arriving in Honduras with Jorden and Victoria (who took the picture!)

Upon arriving at the ferry docks in Útila, we were met by hordes of locals trying to lure us into their dive shop to secure our busines. Fortunately, we had already been in contact with Rebecca from BICD (Bay Islands Academy of Diving), who helped us through the crowd, took us on a tour of their complex, and showed us to our own private room.

Our home for a week in Útila

Before beginning our dive courses, we had a day to relax and walk around the island, and It only took us an hour or so to realise Útila is an odd place. Most of the locals speak English, yet at first you don't quite realise it. It sounds like a mixture of Irish, Jamaican and Central American accents that you never really get used to, but it's fun to listen to. Then you meet the odd people who don't speak English at all. There doesn't seem to be any rules, and shops open and close at almost any time other than the hours they advertise. But aside from this, everyone we came across was extremely friendly and welcoming.

Local legend says that the island of Utila is the place of the fabled Robinson Crusoe, who shipwrecked on a tropical island, met a man he called Friday, and lived for 24 years marooned and seeking rescue

I began my AOW (Advanced Open Water) course on Wednesday, the first day consisting of 3 dives - a Deep Dive (30m), a Peak Performance Buoyancy dive, and a Night Dive. With no exam to do this time around, it was more about getting in the water and perfecting the skills I learned on my Open Water course in Perth earlier this year. On top of that, there were a few cool things thrown in - such as drinking a can of soda at 30m below the surface, and having a running race on the ocean floor. Unfortunately I didn't come away completely unscathed, as some sinus problems resulted in me blowing a handful of blood out of my nose each time. But I still had a bloody good time (pun intended).

After a much needed day off, I was back in the water for my Navigation and Drift dives with my instructor Donna. The sinus problems hadn't subsided but I was able to finish the dives and as such complete my AOW course, and see a few cool things along the way:

Útila is renowned worldwide as an inexpensive place to earn your dive certifications, yet the service I received from Donna, Rebecca and everyone at BICD was worth far more than what we paid. The price aside, we were extremely well looked after for the duration of our stay, the staff were very professional and friendly, and on top of this we were able to enjoy the entire experience from the comfort of our own fully furnished apartment complete with kitchen, private bathroom and balcony looking out the 3rd floor.

People told me I'd get stuck here, and if it wasn't for the overwhelming desire to explore more of Central and South America before I head home, I'd have definitely stayed longer.

Antigua, Guatemala

After the partying of San Pedro, and a full day spent on chicken buses, Antigua provided a comfortable refuge where we could rest and recharge. 45 minutes outside of the capital Guatemala City, Antigua is a small colonial town littered with cafes and restaurants catering to all types of cuisine. It’s the kind of place you could always stay for one more day.

We used most of our time here for just that - coffee drinking, bagel eating, chocolate sampling, playing cards and also cooking a few meals of our own as we still had our gang from San Pedro together.

On our first night at the hostel, unaware how close we actually were to it, we spotted Volcán de Fuego off in the distance, shooting off some steam and lava. As we stopped what we were doing to enjoy the moment, we decided at that point that climbing up Volcán Acatenango for a better view was our must do activity in Antigua. So, on Thursday we did the rounds of the travel agencies, sussing out the competition and trying to play them off against each other to get the best price. We settled on one and booked it in for the following day.

Come 10:30am on Friday morning, we were still waiting for the tour bus to arrive. When they finally arrived soon after, we told them we wouldn’t be going on the tour as it was too late to begin the trek and we’d miss sunset. We walked over to the tour office and soon found ourselves in the middle of an argument and an unwanted choice over not getting any refund, or taking the tour on Saturday without food included. Still unsatisfied, it wasn’t until we mentioned we’d go to the police until they finally cooperated, and included us on the tour for the next day with all meals included.

Our persistence paid off, as when we woke Saturday morning the weather was clear and we left on time. The hike involved 6 hours of mainly uphill walking through slippery tracks, before we reached our camp and set up our tents and campfire.

Probably the best moments of the whole experience were had during and after sunset, as Victoria, Jorden and I sat out on the grass, witnessing the most surreal (and at times blinding) lightning storm unfold next to Volcán de Fuego, which was shooting off bursts of smoke and lava every so often. The bucket list moment was well and truly cemented when, whilst fiddling around with different exposure settings on my camera, I managed to get this shot:

After much conversation over life, travel and how lucky we were to be sharing, or even just experiencing these moments, we headed back to the campfire where we shared some cheap liquor with our guides and roasted a few marshmallows on the fire.

With 4 of us jammed into a relatively small tent, needless to say there was little sleep had, and any that we managed to get left us with aching bodies from the thin mattresses and cheap sleeping bags.

We were soon up at 3:45am to attempt to climb to the top of Volcán Acatenango, a tempting opportunity if not for the thick cloud and considerable rain that we found ourselves in. As much as I wanted to stay in the tent, I realised it was my only shot at this, so joined the others who were keen enough to brave the conditions and begun the 90 minute uphill climb. Unfortunately for us our efforts weren't rewarded, and as others predicted, the climb was cancelled due to the poor conditions and we ended up turning back.

After a breakfast of an apple and a banana (I ate the rest of my meals the day before after the trek), we descended for 3 hours to where we started the previous day, and our bus took us back to Antigua.

While exhausting, it was an incredible experience that Antigua would have otherwise felt incomplete without enduring. With aching muscles all over, Victoria, Jorden and I then began our 17 hour bus ride across the border into Honduras, a new country to be added to all of our lists.

Lago de Atitlán, Guatemala

For the first time since arriving in Ecuador a couple of months ago, I was able to add a new country to my list of places visited - Guatemala. It took just under 12 hours and 3 different buses from San Cristóbal, but I finally made it to Panajachel, which is located on the northeast shore of the beautiful Lago de Atitlán (Lake Atitlán).

Lake Atitlán is the deepest lake in Central America (with a maximum depth of about 340m) and while considered one of the most beautiful lakes in the world, I didn't find it quite as serene as Lake Titicaca, which I visited from both the Peruvian and Bolivian sides.

Jorden, his girlfriend Victoria and a few other friends were already here, but across the lake in a little town called San Pedro la Laguna. It was late at night so I decided to spend the night in Panajachel with Sara, a girl from Tokyo who I met on the bus earlier.

The next morning started with a superb, the best I've had in months, coffee from the Korean run Cafe Loco, near our hotel. Then I hopped on the ferry to another nearby lake town - San Marcos la Laguna.

Renowned for being a laid back hippie town, commonly used for yoga or meditation retreats, I initially intended to spend a night here before meeting up with Jorden and the gang in San Pedro the following day. But, remembering my time in Vilcabamba, I decided it would be much more fun partying with my mates and so hopped on another lancha (powered boat) to San Pedro.

As is common whenever Jorden and I are together, the partying was inevitable. It started off innocently enough with a few games of Yaniv at the hostel - then we ventured out into the town, bar hopping and cashing in on any promotions for free shots that we could find. We parked down at Buddha Bar for a while, where things escalated before finally stumbling into bed in the early hours of the morning.

For our final morning in San Pedro and Lake Atitlán, we rose at 3AM and trekked up The Indian's Nose, a mountain perched atop the cities of San Juan and San Marcos - giving an incredible view of sunrise over the lake.

Sunrise from the Indian's Nose

After a nap and some lunch, we departed San Pedro, taking the "chicken bus" to Antigua. These buses are old recycled (definitely not refurbished) school buses from the USA. They cram as many people as they can on to these things, and, braving cracked windscreens, bald tyres, wet roads and a sleepy driver, it's probably surprising we made it safely to Antigua.

San Cristóbal de las Casas, Mexico

My final stop in Mexico brought me to the quaint little town of San Cristóbal de las Casas, in the state of Chiapas.

I'm only spending 1 night here, so I took the time to walk around the markets, visit the Mayan Medicine Museum, and hunt down a decent coffee.

It's good to have some quiet time to reflect on what has been an almost nonstop past 4 weeks. I was lucky enough to spend them with 2 of my best friends from home and I couldn't have asked for a better time. Tomorrow I'll take the bus across the border into Guatemala, where the journey continues further down through Central America.

Oaxaca, Mexico

A brief respite from the intensity of Cancún and Playa del Carmen was short lived as I had only a couple of nights in Oaxaca before the festivities of Día de Muertos began. Not only that, I was also due to meet up with Jorden, one of my best friends from home who I haven't seen since the beginning of the year.

Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead in English) is a holiday celebrated throughout Mexico, in particular the Central and South regions, and acknowledged around the world in other cultures. The holiday focuses on gatherings of family and friends to pray for and remember loved ones who have died, and help support their spiritual journey. Oaxaca is known as a town rich in culture, food and tradition, and as such also considered the best place to celebrate Día de Muertos in Mexico.

Arriving by bus on Wednesday evening, I was greeted by a friend from Couchsurfing who walked me back to my hostel. It was invaluable having someone as friendly and helpful as Rubí who was able to provide advice on what to do, where to go, and where to party over the next few days.

True to it's reputation, Oaxaca is littered with trendy artisanal shops, local designer boutiques, cafes and restaurants which make it a beautiful city to casually stroll around. This was done in abundance with the inevitable partying for Día de Muertos, where only 1 in 5 nights was spent without the consumption of a considerable amount of alcohol. 

Much of the alcohol enjoyed in Oaxaca is Mezcal, a distilled beverage made from the maguey plant. It tastes similar to Tequila, but a little more smooth and with a distinct smokey flavour, depending on how long it's been aged. This often went down nicely with a Tlayuda (a handmade dish consisting of a large, thin, crunchy tortilla covered with a spread of refried beans, meat, lettuce or cabbage, avocado, stringy cheese and salsa), many of which were enjoyed at the Benito Juárez market.

From beginning to end, my time in Oaxaca was full of laughs, partying, eating, drinking - everything that's good for the soul. It was great to spend this memorable weekend with my best mate without a care in the world, and we were treated to some more great company in friends that we made at the hostel, and other locals that we met here in Oaxaca. It's a place you can't really find a good reason to leave, and the experiences I've had here I'll never have a good reason to forget.

Cancún, Mexico

My little "trip within a trip" with Sara was coming to the end, but we were definitely on the way up. We arrived in Cancún on Friday, perfect timing for a weekend full of partying ... and what a place to be when you're looking to party. Cancún was the finale of the trip and it delivered, and more...

A few casual drinks Friday evening escalated somewhat when a game of Beer Pong broke out at the hostel (shock), after which we went out with our new friends to a nearby bar and partied the night away until about 3AM. The night was topped off with a late (early) run - literally a run across the highway - to McDonalds to break my year long duck of no McDonalds. Well worth it.

We had to back it up on Saturday night (how could you not)... the much talked about Coco Bongo nightclub awaited us, but not before a trip to the mall to get some new shorts after my trusty old ones had split the previous night (Beer Pong got serious).

Coco Bongo exemplified the Hotel Zone of Cancún - excessive, over the top, expensive, unnecessary, but great fun. There were cover bands, dancers, gymnasts, movie star lookalikes, midgets, confetti, cold smoke shot in your face, all on a constant rotation every couple of minutes for the whole night. Then when it stopped, you look down at your watch (for the first time that night) and realise it's already 5AM, the bar is closed and everyone is leaving. While great fun, it's the kind of thing you'd only do once. Just like Cancún.

I gingerly climbed down from my top bunk on Sunday morning as Sara and I headed off with our day bags to spend the night in Isla Mujeres, a mere 20 minutes on the ferry away from the port at Cancun. The weather was sensational upon arrival, and we immediately wished we had more time to spend there. The afternoon was spent in the water, walking along the beach, eating, then enjoying the live music at the hostel.

Come Monday morning and after we'd been to the MUSA Underwater Museum for our final bit of scuba diving, Sara had a little surprise up her sleeve. For all the planning I'd done for our last couple of weeks together, she wanted to thank me and as such treated us to TWO nights at an all-inclusive resort in the Hotel Zone of Cancún. Of course, I was never going to say no to such an offer, so for the last few nights I was able to put the hostel life behind me and live like a king.

I'd never stayed at an all-inclusive resort before, I just assumed they were overpriced for what you were getting. But there was one thing I'd never considered - the feeling you get when, after finishing a huge meal at one of the many upscale onsite restaurants, you just get up and walk away. There's no comedown moment after receiving the bill and realising what you just enjoyed cost a lot of money. You just walk out. And maybe you walk next door and get some free dessert. And a free coffee. And free drinks at the nightclub. I don't know. It all feels free. In saying that, I don't know if I'd feel the same way if Sara wasn't paying for it all...

Anyway, what a great way to end our trip together. It had everything - small towns, big tourist towns, diving, snorkelling, shitty hostels, lavish all-inclusive hotels, quiet nights in and huge nights out, but most importantly great company - and more great memories for life.