SEVEN PM breathes again

Lily in SEVEN PM

Wow so a crazy thing happened yeh. In my thumb-twiddling, chain-smoking, perpetually-napping boredom here in Malaysia whilst I waited for my India visa to come through, I sought activity and entertainment through social media and revived my Twitter account. My first tweet was a casual message to miss Lily Loveless - lead actress in BAFTA-winning teen series Skins but also the lead actress in my short film SEVEN PM - thanking her for her stellar performance in my short and letting her know it was well-received at the East End Film Festival in April.

So whilst Lily didn't reply, it seems her entire fanbase did!

I've since been inundated with interest by fans, fansites, blogs, MTV sites, academics and more fans wanting to know more! And these dedicated people searched my film and came across a feature on my good friend and assistant director on SEVEN PM, independent filmmaker Maria Lazanitou's website www.marialazanitou.com. In 2 days, images and write-ups about my short was splashed all over the internet! Here are just a few:
http://www.skinsfansite.com/2010/08/lily-loveless-seven-pm.html

http://lilyandkatfans.com/english.php

http://fuckyeahlilyloveless.tumblr.com/

All overwhelming but exciting. AND it gave me the kick up the ass to NOT wait until travelling year is over to touch my film again and start doing what I can (from the other side of the World and in between gallavanting) to work on the film's promo. Hence the last couple of weeks I have been furiously submitting SEVEN PM to (free!) film festivals the world over that have announced their call for submissions. I made twenty - let's hope that there's a festival programmer out there with astonishingly good taste (!) who appreciates my short and SCREENS IT and gives the film some ace publicity.

I have also done a couple of interviews. One with popular journalist Heather Hogan (@hhoagie) for the MTV/Logo lesbian website AfterEllen. Read it here http://www.afterellen.com/movies/08/2010-seven-pm

RophyDoes illustration of me!

And just this week, another interview with fun, popular Australian Skins fansite RophyDoes (@Rohydoes), check it out here http://www.rophydoes.com/rophy-extras/interviews/anetta-jones-director-of-seven-p-m/ who even did a cute (?!) illustration of me ha. 

Coming up, I have an interview with Dr Ann-Marie Cook (@DrAnnMarieCook) who is a Kings College London University professor writing an academic study on the Naomily cultural phenomenon and hopefully a feature with http://dvdoutsider.co.uk/ who champions primarily films outside the mainstream by writer Leanne Weston (@LKWes).

All this publicity is SO EXCITING! Off to India tomorrow for a few months, let's hope the SEVEN PM momentum continues...

Anetta x

London, my familiar love

Back in the Big Smoke.
I effing love London. No matter where I have been or what I have seen, it is still always a pleasure to go back to London. The pleasure-factor ups in ante of course when it is summer. Summer in London is its own strange but beautiful phenomena.


Summer in London comes as something of a shock to all residents as we have to re-teach ourselves how to smile. This process usually begins sometime in May (or occasionally April if we're lucky and climate change has had its way.) Londoners have usually spent the last eight months feeling a bit cold, pasty and bitter and scowling. Scowling at the weather, scowling at the grey days, scowling at their unsatisfying desk jobs, scowling at late buses, scowling at each other, scowling at their own reflections, scowling at their mothers... So all of a sudden when the forgotten sun makes an appearance and there is no reason to scowl anymore, Londoners immediately adopt unnerving full-chops smiles and a wave of bizarre euphoria rushes over the city turning London into an excitable but uncontrollable toddler that just wants to frenetically shake his rattle, freely shit his diaper and ferociously play with his toys and friends... whilst donning flipflops and shades.


I knew I would come back to this and I did and it was GREAT!

At scamp's flat

I landed in London, my head swimming with 6 months of new ideas, new people and new experiences. I thought London wouldn't be enough. However as it turned out, I couldn't get enough of London. With only TWO WEEKS there I had no time to process everything I had learnt and seen. Of course when you are travelling there is no time for that either. I did not have the opportunity really to share what I believe I now know (my cynical friends would have only called me a patronising gap-yah cunt anyway if I had), instead I just got to enjoy further layers of new experience as I revelled in the sunshine with my friends and free events. It was all so fast.


Those two weeks I spent my time doing exactly what I had looked forward to doing whenever I felt homesick. I got a quick cash-in-hand waitressing job in a dodgy but delicious Syrian restaurant down Brick Lane... 5squids an hour for 4 hours a day of work, yes mam. I now know what 'budgeting' means. Oh, and the difference between a Shish and a Shawarma. Whilst I have no intention of using this job as some kind of leg-up in to the world of Middle-eastern catering (although I was remarkably skilled at picking up the intricacies of cash register technique) I have to say that this job was - in a word - superfun. Mainly rendered so by the main chef/food preparer Mohammed from Algeria who gave me valuable insights in to his world (e.g. his fear of beautiful women because they're likely to be AIDS-ridden) and invaluable advice, "Why you drink, Anetta? What for? You drink, you get drunk, you go to sleep... Next day wake up - No Money!" Likewise I am a big fan of Mune who owns the Bangladeshi suit shop opposite, who kept asking to take me out on a date to Whitechapel. True gentleman.

Hen Party in Oxford

In my plethora of free-time I managed to catch up with several of my lovely friends... I lived in perfectly-placed Bethnal Green around my darling scampface Maria's flat with her boyfriend Wataru (see photo; his face is being delicately cradled by good friend, flamboyantly French Thomas.) I spent my days in parks drinking cheap cider (Oh strongbow my sweet nectar, how I missed you!), I went to a dubstep party and raved like I'm in sixth form, I went to my bestfriend Charlotte's birthday - a delightful evening of the Philharmonic Orchestra performing in Shoreditch park... and I even fit in a cheesy, tacky, crude Hen Weekend for my scarily enthusiastic but gorgeous big sister in Oxford complete with cheerleading and 80s music.


All in all, an absolutely glorious but fleeting visit home in London with my friends and the English summer before being whisked to my other home... Kuala Lumpur.
And still no mind-processing of my travels.

San Jose, Costa Rica

So finally after my eery retreat to Playa Las Lajas, I went back to Costa Rica to catch my looming flight to San Jose with my new little brothers Pip and Jason (I say "little" but they are actually 22 and 21 respectively.) Here we checked in to a ridiculously luxurious hostel complete with aircon, free internet and even a swimming pool. Upon witnessing my surprise, my travel buddies informed me that this was the norm in Costa Rica. I get the feeling that backpacking around Costa Rica is a totally different vibe from roughing it in Mexico and the rest of Central America... In  fact, the range of accommodation I have experienced on my trip is extreme. From sleeping in a hammock alone on a beach with nothing but the moon and mosquitoes for company and not able to see my reflection in a mirror for over a week near the beginning of my trip... to being in a white-washed dorm with attached, marble-floored en-suite complete with eighteen-year-old gap yah kids from Bath straightening their hair and applying body shimmer by the end of it. Confusing mindfuck to say the least. My last day in San Jose I felt something of an outsider. Surprisingly, despite being a "city girl", I can say without hesitation that my most natural environment is definitely the outdoors. Forest not fashion. Conversation not cover-up.

In San Jose I spent the day wandering the colourful (but essentially touristy) markets picking up last minute presents for my friends and family before catching my flight back to London. I explored the city by foot, taking in the American influence of the commercial businesses, the discerning metal bars and gates at all shop fronts and windows, the barbed wire lining homes and residences... People describe San Jose as a "necessary evil" before exploring the rest of Costa Rica however, I only saw it in a couple of days which is not nearly long enough to make any kind of judgement of a large city. However the fences and barriers, open prostitution and racist slurs of the graffiti, all screamed of a paranoid city.

In my travels I was unable to see much of Costa Rica due to time constraints, but mainly due to lack of money! It is an expensive country to travel, with prices akin to the US. However I am very aware from my friends' encounters with the country that there is so much - mainly nature-based experiences - that I missed out on. I hope to return one day with a bit more cash to exploit all the wonders that Pura Vida has to offer.

My last day travelling was lovely. When travelling you say hi and goodbye to new friends on average, every 3days. I found that 70% of these people were absolute pleasures to meet and the kind who if they were London-based, the friendship could be nurtured for many years. My last day in Costa Rica I had to say goodbye to Jason and Pip who I had spent my last ten days with. American Jason - a very bright, funny, warm, charming, charismatic guy whom I felt extremely comfortable with from my first moments with him to my last. He lives up to American "jock" stereotypes and yet crushes them at once - amazing! And Pip, a sweet, also very bright, positive, open-minded, reflective, friendly joker from Holland. Their company was heart-warming and we meshed unbelievably well together. It was very sad as not only was I saying goodbye to these two wonderful people whom I may never see again but in that moment, I was saying goodbye to all the amazing people who I had met on my trip. As I was leaving my travel bubble. Once I stepped on my plane, noone would be able to relate to me like the people I met travelling. I would most likely never see these people - who really did touch my life  - again. I would have to pick myself up off THAT wavelength and ride another, more realistic one.

Pip, Jason and I

Playa Las Lajas, Panama

A few clammy bus rides (and most of the day later) and Jason, Pip and I found ourselves on the opposite coast of Panama to Bocas del Toro, at a beach called Playa Las Lajas. We chose our destination en-route and it was decided upon by the lack of bus services to anywhere else that evening. BUT it also seemed like a fun idea to go to another beach and if it was anything like Bocas it would be a place to party, swim, surf, beach it up, jungle it up and meet more interesting people.

It was nothing like Bocas.

Our 1 room, 1 bed

We found ourselves stranded by a bus in the dark night at a poor excuse for a bus shelter just outside a long road with a mildly exciting and promising sign reading 'WELCOME TO PLAYA LAS LAJAS' which we considered walking down before being warned it would take about 30mins to DRIVE down let alone amble with our backpacks around 10pm at night, not knowing where exactly we were going. So we took a taxi and requested that it take us to the nearest, cheap hostel. It wasn't near but at US$10 a night for a cabin for ALL THREE OF US it was irresistibly cheap! The ominous route there however was confusing. We were at the beach, apparently the most beautiful in the Chiriqui province of Panama and yet we saw nothing and noone. Just darkness, the odd tree, the muddy road and occasionally a deserted looking shack. It was VERY strange. And then we arrived at the cabins/hostel and an unreasonably pissed off hostel manager/owner "greeted" us and reluctantly showed us to our home for the next couple of days... a dingy, dark, damp cabin with only ONE double bed in the middle. It rained heavily that evening and so we cooked our own dinner, drank lots of red wine and then drunkenly attempted to make a fire with wet wood... for about an hour and were shamefully unsuccessful. The night ended with a drunken nightwalk/ nightstagger up the beach with one torchlight for visibility and no clue as to where we were going as we had never seen the beach in daylight. Plankton, crabs and shells seen only in the dim glow of our light made for an exciting walk.

The next day we walked up the 14km stretch of beach and discovered that it really is quite beautiful. The pacific ocean greeted us with warm, navy waves that gently folded into the black sand shore, very different from the East coast. As we walked along though, we discovered that Playa Las Lajas really is a ghostbeach. Dead! Noone in sight and lots of huts, restaurants, hostels etc just abandoned on the side of the beach. It didn't make sense to us and seemed like something out of a horror movie almost. However as we continued walking we discovered a small pub hut with about 5 (German) customers all watching the World Cup (Netherlands V Uruguay). It didn't make sense but the football and booze did. So Dutch Pip, Jason and I spent the afternoon getting drunk watching the World cup and rowdily supporting Netherlands to the other customers' disgust... and also taking swimming breaks in the ocean. Outstanding day!

That evening we made friends with and got more drunk with some handsome and lovely Argentinians who had landed at our cabins. Card games (Chancho va!), bottles of wine, torrential rain, boiled hot dogs later and a very merry Jason, Pip and me ended up switching cabins to another DRIER one... where we proceeded to roll about laughing and filming and joking for the rest of the night! ...Only to wake up to the psycho hostel owner getting really freaking angry at us for switching cabins, flicking us off and spitting "SOLO MAL USTEDES!" at us in the morning. Lovely.

We swiftly moved on from this middle-of-nowhere, beautiful hell and on to San Jose for all 3 of our flights back to our respective homes...

Bocas Del Toro, Panama

Whizzing through San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, where I left my dear friend and travel companion Julio, I made the decision to venture in to Panama. This was as much of an economic decision as it was an explorative decision. Or so I thought...

Boat ride to Bocas

On my 12hour or so bus journey from San Jose to the archipelago of Bocas del Toro in Panama I met a delightful young man named Jason from Ohio with whom I spent my remaining time travelling. We arrived in beautiful Bocas, on the Caribbean coast and once again I was extremely happy to be greeted by the turqoise tranquility of this ocean. However we were first greeted with the main island of Bocas del Toro, Isla Colon. This is a fun, predominantly expat-run, hedonistic party island. Not quite the oasis of calm for end-of-travels reflection as I had expected! Bocas town on Isla Colon is also quite ugly...

Nevertheless, never one to shy from an opportunity to party, I was able to have something of a rager here on this island with Jason and a bunch of other people I met there. A seriously wild night out involving dancing and drinking like a maniac and behaviour akin to a lad-on-tour, 2 days later I knew I had to move on. Isla Colon was a really fun place and its attraction for tourists is very evident. But after my intensely Latin American and Spanish-speaking journey so far, it did not seem right to suddenly feel like I was a Brit-in-Thailand, raping the island. It was just too debauched and coked-up. I consider Isla Colon as a part of the umbrella genre of travelling of Posh Backpacking. Despite Panama being one of the cheaper countries of Central America, everything in Bocas was expensive - the hostels were on average $10 a night! However did come with air-con(!) A far cry from my sweaty crotch cabin in a jungle days. Luxury backpacking at its finest.

Whilst there, instead of indulging ourselves in the expensive island tours offered, Jason and I decided to do things old school and spent our time on Isla Colon walking and exploring. One of my favourite days involved us walking about 30km all day to the small beaches on the island; Playa Bluff and Playa Paunch etc... A sudden, heavy and unrelenting rainstorm meant an unwilling trip to a cafe for prolonged consumption of ice-cream with kahlua... and tequila shots.

Once we rinsed Isla Colon of all the fun we could handle, we decided to see another side to the archipelago. And so, on we went to another isolated, quiet, deserted but absolutely stunning island of Bocas named Isla Bastimentos. THIS was how I expected Bocas del Toro to be! White, pristine, empty beaches... Rolling calm waters, ABSOLUTELY empty, jungle surrounds... it was really our own desert island. And for the first time in a long time I felt as though I was somewhere where really, VERY few people have been before. We stayed in a new and very chilled hostel called Bocas Bound and it was situated about a 5mins jungle walk away from the famous Red Frog Beach and the COMPLETELY EMPTY (and therefore by default, a nudist beach for me(!) Playa Tortuga.) This was paradise, reinforced by the presence of my lovely companions. We all spent the next couple of days seriously chilling out on the beach and in the tranquility of the jungle together... Except for the Fourth of July when the American amongst us (dear Jason!) decided we MUST celebrate Independence Day by "bbq-ing meat, drinking lots of booze and blowing shit up." Well apart from the last one, we accomplished the other two... particularly the second and I enjoyed my first ever Fourth of July celebration immensely!

The next day, with our heads bowed down low in mild shame for previous night's antics, we all left the island... Belgian Helen to Costa Rica, Dutch Rian and Slovenian Ursa to Panama city and Jason, Pip and myself to... we had no idea..........

Playa del Coco, Costa Rica

From Ometepe, Nicaragua Julio and myself scooted flashy-fast to Costa Rica for some pura vida! Our last few days chilling together (possibly forever) so we figured blissed-out, chilled-out Costa Rica would be an apt place to spend these delicate moments. Here we landed on the north western pacific coast, a beach called Playa del Coco of which we had heard great things. A touristy but popular-for-a-reason spot I was informed. But if I am being honest I was informed non too wisely? Playa del Coco was uninspirational.

It was extremely evident that we were in Costa Rica for how similar to America everything was. Signs in English, English-speaking locals, foreigners everywhere, Western cuisine, expensive everything, tourist traps... I'm not racist but there were too many pink shrimp. The beach itself too, was not so impressive. Had I been a surfer I'm sure I would have appreciated it more due to the high waves; enjoyed watching the body boarders and suchlike. Also, my impression of Coco was no doubt slightly tarnished due to the heavy rain that welcomed us off the bus and teased us on and off like a tart for our days there.

Pura vida

Fortunately we took it upon ourselves to explore the area further and hiked 13miles away to a tiny, virgin beach called Ocotal. This was far more beautiful, pristine and empty and conformed to my standards of tranquil nature vibes... that is, despite the waves brutally lashing us about. We had the beach to ourselves and unlike Playa del Coco, Ocotal easily did Costa Rica proud for our first impression!

Ometepe

On the way to Ometepe

After indulging in the gorgeous Pacific beaches of San Juan del Sur, Julio and I went to the famous Isla de Ometepe, an island located East of San Juan in the Lake of Nicaragua and home to the ancient petroglyphs. The crossing to the island reminded me of one of my favourite places I have visited on my travels, Lago Atitlan in Guatemala. Ometepe Island was just astonishingly bigger.

Upon arrival to the Island at Moyogalpa we had to take another bus all the way to the other side of the island to a small village called Balgue where we had chosen to stay for a particular coffee plantation located there. The coffee plantation, Finca Magdalena had extended its capabilities to accommodate backpackers and was popular for its extensive panoramic view over Lago Nicaragua. An arduous, rocky, seriously vomit-inducing bus journey followed by a 1.5km uphill hike later and we had found our way to the finca hostel. And indeed, we discovered that the whispers were true and the lofty finca had stunning views of the island's two volcanoes, Maderas and Concepcion.

Coffee plantation where we stayed

Whilst in Ometepe, Julio climbed the difficult Maderas whilst I chose to explore the flatter parts of the island and bussed across Ometepe, venturing in to other villages. Altagracia is Ometepe's second most important town (the first being messy Moyogalpa) and here I walked about absolutely gawped at by the locals as it is not a frequently-visited tourist spot. It is a small, quiet place with church, square, clinic and school but not much more. The people are astonishingly smiley and this was the first place in Nicaragua that I believe I was paying Nica prices for food, transport and internet. Santo Domingo, a town on Ometepe is one of the more popular places on the island for backpackers and tourists. It possesses the most beautiful beaches of the island with black sand and eerily still freshwater. An intensely magnificent and meditative place to relax, I exploited my afternoon there thoroughly and experienced a very refreshing clarity of mind.

View of Lago Nicaragua

Although my visit to Ometepe was brief, I loved the island! The people were humble and friendly, the nature wild and colourful and the still quiet mystical.

X

San Juan del Sur

So after Granada I was only going to spend a few days at the Nicaraguan Pacific coast, a particular beach called San Juan del Sur. However, as is usually the case with me and beaches I was massively sucked in and ended up being there over a week. I stayed in a little hut, high up above the ocean where I could hear the waves (and the rainy season´s plummeting rain) crashing all over us. It was gorgeous. If a little pee-inducing.

Each day myself and Julio would relax on the main beach there... that is, until a dirt spill rendered the ocean brown, unswimmable and pretty frickin' gross. Then we took to making the trek a half hour North to a deserted few beaches called Maderas where it was completely unspoilt and seriously virgin. Nearly our own beach. We spent our time being flung about in the violent waves like children, escaping the sea every so often with enough salt water swallowed to spit out our own little ocean. Getting in touch with my inner child is so liberating and it felt incredibly self-revolutionary to discover that I still knew how to "play." On one of my favourite days we went on a fishing trip at sunset and I loved it so much. Very therapeutic and meditative and rocking gently on the waves felt so calming and natural. With my beginner´s luck, I caught six tasty fish! Was only able to keep two red snappers, which we then had cooked up for us and ate for one of the most delicious meals I´ve ever been fortunate enough to consume.

San Juan is quite ¨gringo¨, ridden with bars, shops and restaurants with dollar prices (but a bit cheaper) and american tastes. It is a lot of fun though and not as touristy as I had expected... Locals abound everywhere and mix well with the foreigners. Good community vibe as I saw in Granada. More foreigners there than usual as SURVIVOR are filming their 22nd season on one of the nearby beaches and with their 300-strong film crew, the place spilled with crew members getting drunk on their days off.

Loved San Juan, happy happy days
x

Nica Nica Nicaragua!

And finally here I am in Nicaragua, I have been here for the past two weeks now and have absolutely loved it! For many years I had dreamed of coming to the exotic and rarely mentioned country and so far it has been everything and more than I expected it to be! I began my exploration in the colonial city of Granada. I had been told in Antigua, Guatemala to expect a similar city. Although I knew this meant it would be very beautiful, I also feared that it might mean the city would be overrun with Westerners speaking English everywhere and tourist shops, tour operators, tourist prices as is Antigua. However I was delighted to discover a very different kind of colonial city. One that is more authentically Nicaraguan.

Granada is ALIVE and in the best possible way. The streets are packed with families and family businesses all constantly interacting, trading and laughing together. There seems to be a very strong sense of community. The numerous market stalls (indoor and outdoor) just outside our hostel were so colourful and bustling, with fresh smells (of both the delicious and the grim varieties) filling the Granadan air. The people look strong and resilient and I found them to be nothing but curious and friendly (if a little difficult to understand in accent.) They dress more modern than the rest of Central America and walk with a tougher swagger. I appreciated this. We spent our few days there walking about the pretty streets and visiting the Lago de Nicaragua where the city is based. Pretty vistas surround Granada - hills and volcanoes alike. There is a good sense of burgeoning art, supported by the awesome building Casa de los Tres Mundos - an arts and culture centre very much carving its way as the heart of the city.

Nearby is the town filled with famous artesania markets called Masaya. One day we took a bus there and walked around all the impressive handicrafts and creative fashions. It is a market for locals rather than tourists. Had I more space in my heaving backpack, no doubt I would have invested in the Nicaraguan produce here. Overall, I really liked Granada and it was a spectacular introduction for me to Nicaragua which is already proving to be a gritty, authentic vision of Central America.

San Salvador

Birds Eye View

Julio and I left Antigua and went to Guatemala City for our transfer to San Salvador. However in rather typical Guatemalan fashion there was hassle upon the exit of the country. When we arrived in Guatemala the Borders official ¨forgot¨ to stamp our passports and so essentially we were in the country illegally. We went to Immigration to see what could be done and were told that we could either go through official procedures and seek out a lawyer to do some paperwork for us and then wait up to three weeks (which of course, neither of us have) for the legal declaration of our arrival in Guatemala to be made so that we could leave the country (!)... OR we could pay the ¨fine¨ and leave swiftly the same day...

So we spent the night in rather grim Guatemala city, went back to Immigration the next morning and paid our BRIBE and got our stamp. Before our bus left we had time so we visited the ENORMOUS and SCARILY REAL sinkhole in the middle of the city. Cordoned off with high metal fencing, it was still very much visible and I can confidently confirm that it really is a black hole to the underground of HELL, taking buildings with it. We were in awe. But deeply troubled at the same time. How the world cannot be up in arms about this issue shocks me to the core. If this is not an indicator that we need to tune our lives into nature again then I seriously think humanity is doomed.

At the mall

...But then on to El Salvador! With the country using US dollars as currency and with my scarily diminishing funds, we resolved to not spend much time in the country and instead use it as a passage for Nicaragua... And so we only spent three nights there. Whilst I am certain that the country has more to see and do, San Salvador itself seems quite void of its own authentic culture. Ridden with shopping malls and American fastfood joints, it really is a centre of commerce, business and growing wealth. From the three days I saw it, I got the distinct impression that El Salvaor has picked itself up rather quickly despite its recent end to her civil war (1992.) No doubt that vivid memories are fresh in the peoples' psyches though and the fact that there seemed little distinct El Salvadoran tradition in the capital was likely due to the war stamping out such cultures. Although on the surface thinks seemed peachy and prosperous, I couldn't help feel sad for San Salvador for perhaps not being El Salvador but instead another generic American city.

So for the couple of days we were there, we did what San Salvador had to offer us - we ate pizza and ice-cream and watched no fewer than two Hollywood films (Robin Hood and ahem, Fame) and a stage play. Can´t remember the title but it was a highly entertaining one-man comedy about the differences between the sexes... all in Spanish. Not sure if its tribute to my improving language skills or the fact that the differences remain the same internationally and I could therefore recogise them, but I understood pretty much everything and was in hysterics throughout. San Salvador knows good theatre.

So after a few (relatively) expensive days in sexy San Salvador, it was on to Nicaragua... The colonial city of Granada to be precise.

Paz x

Spirituality in San Marcos

So after my spanish classes and volunteering in San Pedro, I went back to the lakeside town of San Marcos, still around Lago Atitlan. Since I heard about it in Mexico city, I had intended to attend a month-long course called the Moon Course at a famous Spirituality study centre called Las Piramides located in San Marcos. However as I had taken too much time with my travelling, I only had time to attend for one week. The Moon course is a course dedicated to us asking the existential questions, Why Are We Here? Who Am I? What is the Meaning of Life? What is my Purpose in Life? etc etc, questions I seem to always be preoccupied by but even more so since my near-death experience.

The course was great and located in lovely lush gardens. I stayed in a pyramid-shaped cabana there and our learning temple was also a large wooden pyramid construct. Every morning we had hatha yoga classes and then a class on metaphysics, an attempt to encourage us to flesh out existential questions of how we live our lives and what life means to us. I find metaphysics deeply invigorating and oftentimes during one day I ask myself at least one question in this vein and so the metaphysics classes were absolutely perfect for me. In the evenings we had a meditation session which I loved as I was able to get in tune with my subconscious and free my mind from its regular clutter of (often useless) thought. We discussed many topics on which I feel strongly about; about how we are all one collective infinite consciousness and how instead of believing ourselves divided we should see ourselves as One and tune in to each other and the world around us in order to effect peace and unity. We also discussed the Subconscious Mind and how it can be played with with such concepts as Astral Travelling and Lucid Dreaming. I met some great people there, Lucy from London/Sydney, Ashley from Sydney, Lux from Switzerland, Sebastian from Bath and Rebecca from San Francisco. All really great vibes and all hoping to get in tune with their spirituality.

Anyways, I ended up leaving early as certain aspects were too much for me. I am all for spirituality but I am not for spirituality that becomes almost like religion. Worshipping crystal balls and consulting Oracles is too much, even for an ¨open-minded¨ (at least I THINK I am) person like me. Plus, there were David Icke followers. And most insulting of all, the Oracle told me I needed to CONQUER LUST and have more INTEGRITY in my life. How rude! So I had to leave...

And off I went, back to the colonial city of Antigua which I enjoyed far more this time around than the last. Looking beyond its gringoicity, I was able to enjoy the beautiful ruins and cobbled streets and gorgeous setting amidst volcanoes more acutely this time. In fact, I spent a glorious day in the gardens of an abandoned, ex-covent ruins reading my book with the birds all alone. Absolutely delightful! And a couple of days later, with a farewell to Antigua my good Texan friend Julio and I took leave for our next country, El Salvador.

Volcano eruptions, tropical storms, floods, mudslides, SINKHOLES

Mudslide in San Pedro

It has been a tumultuous past couple of weeks for Guatemala. First Volcano Pacaya, near to the famous, colonial and very touristy city of Antigua unexpectedly erupted killing a journalist and another local. This spread volcanic ash throughout the country reaching Guatemala city and even as far as Lanquin, the home of Semuc Champey. Then a tropical storm hit killing 152 Guatemalans and 100 people were left missing from the landslides. From my experience this entailed three days of utterly unrelenting, heavy and cold rain. I was studying Spanish in San Pedro by Lago Atitlan at the time and can report that every street and was transformed in to a river and every back alley (for San Pedro has many) became a stream. We all spent three days completely drenched and there was no escaping the cold, wet rain. Once the rain let up, we found out that several areas of Guatemala had been affected badly. Floods were common throughout the country and particularly near the capital city where an enormous and unbelievable sinkhole opened as the floor of the city collapsed upon itselfi. Looking like a photoshopped image or indeed a black hole to the underground from a comic book adapted action hero film from Hollywood, the sinkhole has evoked strong reactions from across the globe as to how it could possibly have happened and what loopholes or shortcuts must have been exploited for the city floor to have caved in so violently.

Sinkhole in Guatemala city

More locally, around the lake, the torrential rain resulted in mudslides from the surrounding hills and volcanoes. Houses and business were destroyed as mud seaped thickly in and people were swept with the mud. Some locals suffered the impact of the mudslides more than others and in San Pedro where 25 houses were destroyed, one family were particularly torn apart. The mother and father suffered bad injuries but their young daughter was completely lost to the mudslide and was most likely swept in to the lake. Once the rain had stopped, all the local communities rushed to help. At the site of severe damage in San Pedro, local Guatemaltecas, expats and travellers alike were digging at the sight looking for the body of the girl for the past week. People have also begun digging out the mud from the houses to make them livable again. In the meantime, the displaced Guatemalans are being housed in municipal buildings, churches and schools. The local community have pulled together to provide clothes, food and other amenities for the families. It is really quite touching. Although I spoke to an English girl who has been living in San Pedro for the past two months and is one of the forerunners of the aid project and she tells me that people suspect that the officials and admin have sadly been stealing some of the donated goods from the now homeless people.

Destroyed Spanish school

In Spanish class I discussed a lot of these issues with my teacher. She is local, 24yrs old and has a wicked sense of humour. I learnt most of what I know about local Guatemalan life from my conversations with her. Her uneducated father was made to leave school at 11 by his parents to help provide for his several siblings and as such has been working in the mountain plantations (mainly the coffee fincas) his entire life. He earns, on average, between 40-45Quetzales a day (less than 4quid) and works 6days a week. Her mother spends her time doing work in the home, which is far more strenuous than it sounds. She makes fresh tortillas, salsa, refried beans everyday and cooks the meals, cleans the house and twice weekly will wash the household´s laundry by hand. This is normal life for Guatemaltecas. My teacher is educated and holds a good position for a local San Pedran as she teaches to foreigners. Also the school I was attending was a Cooperative of Spanish schools (and a bit more expensive than other schools in the area) which means that all the money goes to the teachers and their community projects, rather than to a company. The community projects involve sponsoring local poor families by providing weekly groceries, helping to build new homes for families who live in unlivable housing conditions and sponsoring physical education and art teachers for the local schools so the children can have access to a more well-rounded education than they would be able to otherwise. The school also runs a scheme where the students can volunteer at a local Home for the Handicapped which I helped out at too. I learnt however that the school´s future is being threatened as this year it has so far only been able to raise in donations a fifth of the necessary funds required to keep it open.

Mud-filled houses

San Pedro is a fun village for tourists. There is an abundance of schools, hostels, cafes, bars and other activities available for quite cheap. Plus, it is by the magnificent lago atitlan which itself is surrounded by three glorious volcanoes. However the past couple of weeks of consecutive disasters that have ridden Guatemala has overshadowed the country with not only a dark sense of foreboding but a strong and overwhelming energy that things are not quite right. If Guatemala and her people had not been so poverty-stricken to begin with, perhaps these disasters would not have blighted the country so badly. It has definitely been a strange time in my travels as now more than ever, it has been brought home to me that I am very lucky to have been born British and thereby privileged.

Delfino Cortez is a very gentle, very happy and very elderly (in his late seventies) local Guatemalteca who works in the big gardens of my spanish school for six days of the week. He does a beautiful and attentive job of the lush and grand gardens, and all of it is tended to only by himself and without help. He has the kindest face and during breaks of my classes he would seize the opportunity to speak to me and practise his little English and attempt to learn more. The first day I spoke to him he asked me if I was from the States. I told him I was from England which is even further away. He looked at me incredulously and exclaimed that it must be extremely expensive to fly over from there. I told him that I worked very hard just so I could afford it. He replied that in Guatemala everyone works very hard, every day, for most of the week but they still don´t make enough money to take the bus to the neighbouring town. He smiled and shrugged and continued tending to the jamaica rose bush... I think I wept a little inside.

Volcanic ash in Guatemala city

Peace and help for Guatemala,
A x

From Antigua to Lago Atitlan...

Beautiful but plastic Antigua

Ask most travellers who have "done" Guatemala what they think of the old colonial city of Antigua and they will all coo that it is pretty, fun and that they stayed there longer than expected. I simply cannot work my head around this!!! For me it was overrun with tourists, the English language written and spoken everywhere, more expensive and just NOT AT ALL Guatemala!! We stayed two nights and then went on to Lago Atitlan, a place where I have really enjoyed calling home for the past week or so!

Julio, Melanie and myself chicken bus rided it to Panajachel, the main bus stop around the lake. Four buses/near-death experiences later and we made it! Albeit not without feeling exceptionally queasy. We took a boat to our first village around the lake, Santa Cruz and stayed in a popular hostel there... La Iguana Perdida. It isn't hard to see why. Luckily we made it for their Saturday Night Cross-dressing Party of dancing on tables, happy hour drinks, men with breasts, women with a swagger, the limbo, music chairs and other fun party delights! Here we met some fantabulous people... Robert the American doctor from Ohio, Jess the sweet Australian and a few more. The next two days in Santa Cruz were spent kayaking and playing boardgames... The rain proving relentless.

Me & Melanie on chicken bus

From here Julio, Jess and myself took a boat across the lake to the peaceful San Marcos where I will be starting my Meditative Retreat later this week. It is small, hippie and "holistic" all over. We hiked around the village, searching in vain for a mysterious "waterfall" but had to return before the rain. And it rained and rained... And the power went out! We had a quiet night here staying in our cute pyramid-shaped rooms at the hostel and slept to the sound of the rainpour...

The next day we zipped over to San Pedro, the most notorious of the villages around the lake. We are staying in a hostel with phenomenal views of the lake, such an intense pleasure to wake up to. After a couple of days familiarising ourselves with the bigger lake town, partying a little, eating a lot, walking some, having fallen in love with this make-shift only midly touristy town, I signed up for Spanish classes at the Cooperativa of Guatemalan Spanish Teachers and began volunteering at the local Home for the Handicapped. More reflections on these to come...

View of Lago Atitlan from San Pedro, here is the Indian's Nose hill

Love and very poorly kisses,
Anetta x

Guatever

And now here I have been in Guatemala! No time to write as I have been exceedingly busy soaking in Guatemala´s lush landscape and rich culture! My time in the country began on the island of Flores. The island is quaint and set amidst a gorgeous lake where I watched a breathtaking sunset... The clouds, the sky and the water all painted pink by the sun. Awestruck, I decided I liked Guatemala already. In Flores, I made the trip to Tikal. Possibly my last ruins-based trip, I had saved the best for last. Not only is Tikal the largest excavated Maya ruins site in the Americas but it is also set amidst dense jungle similarly to Palenque. Upon arrival, I kicked off my (oversized and stolen) flip flops and ran amok up the pyramids, through the jungle, over the limestone and scampering over the temples. I felt intoxicated by jungle fever and it felt criminal to wear shoes. I wanted to walk barefoot as the Maya once did and where the Maya once did. And the jungles were ridden with the exotic. Howler monkeys, spider monkeys, tarantulas, humming birds, parakeets, woodpeckers and a dozen other varieties of brightly feathered beings. Truly beautiful.

And so after Flores, we made our way to Lanquin for a water wonderland called Semuc Champey. In Lanquin we stayed at a pretty sweet hostel, again set amidst much flora and also by a serene river. Lanquin is mid-nowhere and Semuc Champey even more so. Here we visited Semuc Champey twice. It is hard to describe Semuc Champey... Many people attempt to do it justice by describing it as the most beautiful place on earth. A combination of rivers, waterfalls, natural pools in the middle of hills and jungle and forestry, Semuc Champey is all crystalline turquoise water and limestone rock formations. Here is what we saw from the Mirador (Look-out point) which took about 20mins of uphill, strenuous hiking to reach...

The second day that we visited Semuc Champey was indeed a BIG DAY OUT. I thought I was going to die twice that day but in between, had a flavour of heaven. On the way there, Julio and I took a collectivo, a form of transportation popular in these ends and one that I am most accustomed to. Indeed, the first time we went to Semuc and took a collectivo, they managed to squeeze eighteen people into the back of the burning hot, black pick-up. Everyone seemed perfectly comfortable except for myself and Julio. SO on our second day we attempt the same route, but this time it is a standing collectivo which means people are standing on the back of the truck. It is completely packed so they sit us on top of the driver´s cabin, where the LUGGAGE usually goes! PUTA MADRE! With no proper railings, I was being flung about with every corner taken by the collectivo and the drivers here take no care in driving slowly down those sharply rocky dirt roads. For half an hour, I thought I was going to die. And couldn´t help express so. However, when we arrived my eyes pumping with adrenaline and my heart rate unpleasantly high I soon calmed as I was greeted once again by this (and this is only one of the pools):

We spent so much time our second time in Semuc soaking in the waters and energy that we found ourselves neglected. In fact, for our last hour or so there we had the ENTIRE PARK to ourselves! It was like a movie. I was in my own paradise and it felt incredible. However, this pleasure was not consequence free... Our indulgence in this wonderland came at the price of missing the collectivo home and having to walk NINE KILOMETRES along uphill, rocky, dirtroads in the DARK!!!!... And then it began to rain. Once again, I found myself having one of those experiences that are significantly better and funnier in retrospect.

Flores and Lanquin were awesome introductions to the country of Guatemala which thus far I can conclude has not seemed to be too different from Mexico. It is nice to be back in a Spanish speaking country after Caye Caulker. And now we are in Antigua! The colonial capital of Central America and so far as I can tell, pretty streets, cute cafes, marvellous ruins, lots of churches... and ridden with tourists as a result. Tomorrow we leave for Lago Atitlan however I intend to return to Antigua (if not Xela (Quetzaltenango)) for Spanish classes after a bout of spirituality at the Lake.

Paz x

You gotta Belize it...

So after Laguna Bacalar, I made a brief jaunt back to my beloved jungles and waterfalls of Palenque - just to savour a bit more of Mexico before I left my newly crowned Favourite Country in the World. Here I met with my good friend Julio and together we travelled to Belize. Belize made me very happy! The closest that I have ever got to a Caribbean country, Belize did not fail to impress. I really loved it - despite the country's dangerous undertones - and I have resolved to return when I have more money to travel there. Four nights just isn't enough, although it definitely was for my bank balance which choked heavily on Belize's high US Dollar prices.

Reaching Belize territory

We arrived in Belize city on Friday morning but immediately took a water taxi to the island of Caye Caulker. For me, this blissed out island GLOWED. At all times of the day (and night) reggae, reggaeton or some other near variation of the music will be blaring from stalls, homes, restaurants, people's shoulders. And everyone seems to know all the words! I felt SO CHILLED on Caye Caulker! Belizeans here all speak perfect English too... although that is just to tourists. Amongst themselves they speak Creole. Creole sounds utterly brilliant. I overheard several entertaining conversations, including one gentleman on the phone, "Girl, I don't wah hear any of yo stupidness!"

During the daytime, we would go swimming at the island's 'Split', literally where the island split in to two after the last hurricane. Our hostel also lent out canoes and I loved nothing more than paddling out on the calm sea on a canoe. One day we took it to the North side of the split to discover the beaches there... However my favourite time was when we took the canoe out just at sunset and without paddling, just let the boat rock with the gentle waves and sat in silence and let our senses be consumed by our environment as the sun shone awesome colours through the sky, clouds and sea.

One night we went out dancing at the Oceanside Club and as expected, I had one of my favourite nights out during my travels! Belizeans not only know how to dance so rhythmically, but they can also dance at double the speed of the rest of the world! I attempted many times to emulate their shaking and grinding and various floor manoeuvres but unfortunately failed... However in the process of trying, I had the time of my life!

Not all is safe and chilled in Belize though. The first night we arrived, we collapsed in utter exhaustion after our achingly long journey from Palenque. However the next day we were regaled with the story of our fellow hostelites of how they went out that night and got in to a bloody fight involving one of the girls being hit across the head with a two-by-four and gunshots having been fired. Then the night that Julio and myself did go out dancing, we were being hassled by a local guy following us about the dancefloor and touching himself. Disgusted, we left the club and walked back to our hostel only to realise he had followed us home. Thankfully after some time, he left. The next evening the island was alive in fury as it was revealed that a drunk policeman had shot a captive in one of the cells. The local people were gathered outside the police station demanding to know what happened, why it happened and where the policeman was hiding. It was very tense and when I spoke to the locals about it they seemed disturbed, sad and upset that this type of thing had happened again. As we left the island Julio and I were sitting on a bus chatting to a lovely Belizean Menonite when we saw the face of Alex Goff, the same man who had harrassed us that night on the front cover of the newspaper. He was also the same gentleman that was shot by the policeman.

Julio and I rode the rest of the busride to Guatemala in quiet reflection.

Water

Water has the craziest impact upon me. (And no, I am not still harping on about my near-death experience.) The last week I have been travelling with my German warrior princess Sinah. We have been blessed to have had the opportunity to visit a couple of outrageously aesthetically pleasing places! The first being Tulum and the second, Laguna Bacalar.

Tulum is all white sand, turquoise water and absolutely ZERO activity. After god knows how long of strenous partying, the two of us had serious downtime chillaxing by reading novels in hammocks for five days. Two nights were spent in cabanas set deep in the white sand and two in hammocks under the stars. Both sound more romantic and dreamy than they actually are. In actual fact, each morning both myself and Sinah would wake up with our faces caked in sand. It was so windy! And the cabanas were too hot and sweaty and the hammocks too cold and windy! My last night in Tulum in particular was a very difficult night´s sleep... Tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, cursing the wind, sand blowing in my ears, a multitude of bugs buzzing all around me. It all came to a crux when I heard my head wail ¨I wanna be back home!¨ Right about then was the moment I told myself to positively STFU and took 30seconds to contextualise myself and the fact I was sleeping in a breezy hammock, between two palms, on a white beach on the Caribbean coast, in Mexico, to the sound of the waves crashing, underneath the infinity of stars in the sky. I quickly silenced my whiny thoughts and fell in to a deep, pleasant sleep...

We also went to visit the ruins of Tulum (more ruins!!!) which are impressive but mostly (to me) for their unbelievable location, right up high on a hill with spectacular views of the diamond-sapphire ocean! These Mayans were the clever/lucky bastards.

And after Tulum Sinah and I headed to Chetumal to get to Laguna Bacalar, easily the most stunning lake I have ever witnessed. Freshwater the same colour as the Carribean ocean and with a white sand floor, the lake is calming, serene and peaceful. We met some Mexicans who took us for a ride to visit a particular side of the lagoon where there are no people (and DEFINITELY no tourists) and we paid 25pesos each for a Kayak between two. Sinah and I paddled away over the expanse of the lake... and then found a paradise within a paradise in the form of the lagoon´s on cenote. A kind of sinkpool where we can see the rock formations clearly in the water and swam with fishes. My words do the experience no justice but today was one of my lasting memories of Mexico I can foresee already.

Laguna Bacalar

Feeling utterly content, instead of heading to Belize straight away I have decided to go back to the Palenque jungles. I am not ready to leave this marvel of a country that is Mexico!

Water calms me.

Love x