Consistently Inconsistent

Dear friends and family,

I deeply apologize for not updating this blog more often during the trip through Central America. The trip has come and gone and now as I sit on the white sofa of living room of my parent's house I reflect, and in this reflection I can now recount to you everything that has become relegated to the past.

Shortly after we left Lago Atitlan we made our way towards Honduras. We were under the naive impression that the journey would be short and simple...and we could not have been more wrong. The journey was a living puzzle of chicken buses, less-than-desirable public vans, and some very opportunistic cab drivers. I will start this conspiracy theory: There is a collaboration of drivers in Central America who eagerly move slowly in their approach to the borders. Why would they do this you ask? Well, when we finally arrived at midnight we were politely asked for a bribe to be taken across the border. Saying "no" would have only resulted in being left in an extremely unwelcoming and potentially dangerous border town until morning. So, we "paid the ferryman" and headed across. Luckily, this was the most dangerous part of our trip and it had passed. The next day was another rewarding day of slow travel. When we arrived in La Ceiba we had missed the last boat to Utila by about 20 minutes. Serendipity struck and we happened to be there during the annual "Festivale." Dancers crowded the streets, live musicians played to the eager fans standing on the confetti-filled streets, and fire dancers lit up any remaining dark corners of main street.

We finally arrived in Utila (with one more person in tow: a German named Daniel) and were quickly picked up by our new friends of Parrots Dive Center. Mark, a Dive Instructor showed us around the city and offered us the dive options. We signed up for the courses, put our stuff in the room, and went snorkeling at the main beach. As we were snorkeling, we saw an eagle ray. As its tail whipped through the water and it disappeared into the light blue water, we all decided that we were going to stay in Utila for the remainder of the trip. That eagle ray was the end of our thoughts on continuing to Belize. As I got out of the water I realized that I no longer had my underwater camera. Somehow it had slipped away from me while we were swimming. Back at the dive shop convinced me to head back out into the water and search until the sun goes down. I took this absurd challenge to heart and went back out. I swam for two hours until I, by divine providence, found my camera. Unfortunately, I was unable to repair the damage it had sustained from being bounced underwater for hours...thus the lack of pictures on this blog (I will try to correct this on my travels through Europe). So, without the photos I will try to describe Utila:

Utila is a small island off the coast of Honduras which is about 5 football fields in length (as football fields are my measuring tool of choice). The islanders speak a pigeon English which is extremely close to Jamaican. The vowels are drawn out and there are no spaces between the words. Everyone moves at a slow pace on the island, not that I would do it any differently if I lived there. The beaches are soft,fine, white sand that extends itself far into the light turquoise water, allowing you to walk out 60 ft before you even need to begin swimming. The food is excellent and the air is warm. A typical day on the island goes as follows: wake up, find food/coffee, swim/snorkel/dive, drink heavily (and smoke weed if that's your thing) from 4pm til you stumble home...rinse/repeat. The island is a utopia for those who wish to dive and party. Well, perhaps utopia is the wrong word as it implies that nothing bad occurs on the island. The invisible habitats of the island, the sand flies, conduct their assassination in small itchy agonizing bites. By the time I left the island, I had a conservative count of 125 bites on my body. Also, one of the nights on the island a card game went sour at the islands casino and a gun was fired, missing its target and finding its mark instead in the elbow and a woman not involved with the conflict. So, I suppose I should say this, "Utila is paradise, but not every paradise is a utopia."

The next two weeks were spent diving under the tutelage of our Darbisher-friend, Mark. We were also extremely fortunate that our Canadian friends we met in Guatemala, Erika and Paul, joined us in Utila; our small travel group had formed. The open water courses were easy and quickly passed. Then the Advance Open Water courses began. Our days were spent studying in the morning, diving in the early afternoons, and (of course) drinking at night. The dives were great. We did a wreck dive (at the "Hallibourton"), a navigation dive (compass and natural navigation), a night dive (don't forget your flash light), a deep dive (get narked!), and a peak performance buoyancy dive (PPB). My personal favorites were the PPB and the Deep dive. During the PPB, Mark taught us how to use our breathing to control our buoyancy underwater. After a few drills and some practice we were able to balance ourselves underwater, swim backwards and upside-down, and conserve our oxygen by making our movements more controlled. In that one dive we went from awkward ocean baby-steps to seasoned aquatic acrobats. The deep dive was just pure fun. At 30 meters a funny thing happens, the pressure causes the oxygen molecules in your tank to compress and so you end up sucking in much more nitrogen. The nitrogen causes you to get high and then you are under the spell of "Nitrogen Narcosis." We were asked to do some number tests underwater which were suddenly funnier than they should have been. 30ft underwater acts exactly like outer-space, and it is definitely the closest I will ever get. Mark brought down some raw eggs and when he cracked them open, the yoke hovered like a small ping-pong ball in the colorless depth. When were able to throw the egg yoke between us and let it hover around us like an electron around a nucleus. It was a completely different and exciting world down there, but our greedy lungs feast quicker on the oxygen and we hastened to the surface (making our safety stop of course to avoid getting "The Bends," or Decompression Sickness).

I accidentally blinked one day and our time in Utila was over. The entire group of us (now at 7) left together: Paul and Erika (Canada), Charly (England), Camilla (Brazil), Daniel (Germany), Will and myself (USA). We all took the joyful auto-adventure to Copan Ruinas on the border of Honduras where we would spend the last two days of our trip. The ruins in Copan were made by the Mayans (as are most of the ruins throughout Central America) and are comprised of large Ziggauraut-esque (not quite big enough to be official) structures. The statues which line the large stone-structures are of jaguars and once-upon-a-time powerful rulers. We spent the next day relaxing and reading in small cafes and book shops.

Then we were in an airport on our way back to California. I went to Maui, Hawaii for a short week with my family and Will did something MUCH less fun. As I was swimming with turtles and soaking up the sun on sandy beaches, he was in a hospital room having his appendix removed. A narrow escape from disaster. I shiver to think what I would have done if something had happened while we were diving, but I am reminded that bad things can happen anywhere and am extremely thankful that we made it back and his surgery went well.

So, now we have 5 days before we head to Germany, which gives me time to apologize for not writing, write, and apologize again for not writing, and time for Will to recover. I'm looking forward to Germany and I promise there will be more frequent posts and a working camera on the next satiation of my "wanderlust."

-Jordan "Vagabond" Carver