Of Rio de Janeiro, seen through the eyes of the Naughty

It was night when we arrived and I was tired.

Not so much as my drivers would have expected though.

Sure the jurney had been long, but they had given me so few possibilities to express my true power and speed as we ventured further and further south. 

Finally on this last part north I showed my worth and I believe I vanquished any fear my owners had that my age was an indication of weakness and frailty.

It was somewhat awkward to enter the final destination of this monumental journey at night.

The deserted streets swung by as I rolled on towards the refreshing ocean breeze of the seafront and a much deserved rest.

We stopped briefly one, then again, this time by some man who spoke of me and then we were off once again between the wide and small roads of this awesome capital, up and down hills until I was finally given shelter and some of my load was relieved. 

The next day we awoke early to go visit this beautiful city.

The sun was shining and the roads were packed with slim, yet round and beautiful looking Kombis, which smiled and winked as I sped by. I guess not many like me make it this far...

We drove to the most beautiful spots of the city, we overlooked the Ciudad Meravigliosa, climbed up to the Cristo Redentor, roamed the peaceful Lagoa and cuised down the cool palm-shaded length of Ipanema. 

I could see why this was the final stop of the jurney, the Omega. You should always leave the best for last and visiting anything after Rio de Janeiro would steal it of its beauty and make it pale by comparison. So in the setting sun, I head back to the parking space to rest for the night.

As I sat there, quieter and lighter than I had in almost a year the reality of what was happening dawned on me.

I had won, I had made it. Against all ods, against the belief of many and few, I had cross two continents, two tropics, the equator, 17 countries, and tens of thousands of miles to get here.

I thought back at all those miles, all those days, those nights when my travel companions would take refuge in me, when I carried them accross mountains, vulcanoes, deserts, salt planes and rivers to golden shores where they could be embraced by the suttle mists of slumber within my caring walls.

I thought of the surf boards which for so long would irritatingly pull on my roof when speeding along, of the stickers which I would display with pride, as a testimonial of my enduring jurney and of the love for experience and adventure that I shared with those who travelled with me.

I thought of the music, all those notes, all those words, all those songs which accompanied us from the first mile to the last corner and which I would sing along to with the growling of my roucous voice.

If the music we listen to is the soundtrack to our lives, then what a life this has been, with a score fit to match the adventures we had.

And finally I thought of the people who joined me in this adventure, of how man and machine can join into a perfect symbiotic harmony, of how creatures so different can feel so close and one of the same.

As I fell asleep I wondered why people believe that we do not have souls, yet treat us like friends and companions. For if a soul is something everlasting, immortal and eternal, then is it anything more than the unforgettable memory of our existance?

Two weeks in Rio

Many ask me why I wanted to move so far from home.

Many tell me that people are the same wherever you go.

Well the answer is no :)

Check out these two videos, both goals are for the 3-1, naturally I was always on the winning side !

Number 1 is a goal of Real Madrid. They were playing in a completely full Bernabeu stadium although against a team that they quite like: Espanyol. This was part of the First Division games.

Number 2 is a goal of Botafogo in Maracana, playing against Fluminense, in a stadium less than 1/8th full, for a qualifying match where both teams were already qualified and playing with reserves. Check it out :)

So there you go, that is exactly why I'm here right now :)

Thanks a mil to Txarlie and Roque for taking me to the stadium, I'm starting to develop a taste for it :)

A month on the run

I'm finally back in Rio de Janeiro and I have been since last tuesday.I'm not sure why I'm writing this since nobody is going to read it, I guess it's the modern version of a diary.

It was a colourful last month, I was in Genova, London, Listowel, Dublin and Madrid, and you probably know this as I've pretty much met everyone I know except for my friends in Genova, who seem to be working hard at ignoring me since I broke up with Raffa.
But such is life, let bygones be bygones my accounting teacher used to say so I will follow his advice.

It was a wonderful time, Genova was great, got to see some friends, London was hilarious, specially the nights out with Matt and that infamous night, 2 days before Patty's exam when Gasta, Chapis and I hit the bars and ended up discussing sociology at Gasta's house at 5am.Thanks for the bed Gasta, I'll get ou back here in Rio :)

So on we get to Listowel, my grandmother unfortunately has been pretty ill lately, but she seems to be getting better, it's hard when you're 84 year young, but nobody ever accused her of being the kind of lass that gives up. Here the night life was also interesting, specially when Matte, Ned, Mike and Billy were down and ironically we spent the night with Sarah and two brothers who's names I know but cannot spell for the life of me, in a real old school pub where old men danced and sang, reminiscing a time when you had to milk your own cow and the queen was not welcome on the emerald isle.

So, one week spending quality time with my mum & grandmother later and off I went for the last few days of cold weather in Europe in the wonderful Madrid. So, to make the pain easiest here we go. Madrid is beautiful, the weather is wonderful, the women and my best friend all seem to live there.

So I crashed at Peter's house for what was supposed to be 3 night, spent my days walking around the city, meeting friends and ex girlfriends and being allover merry about everything.One night in particular stood out when we hit the bars with a Naughtie Hottie revamp, bringing together once again the guest list from Costa Rica, starring Cata, Maria and Txarlie. Joining the fun with international representation were Mariana, representing US and Spain, Bou representing Burgos, Sofia for Madrid, and Peter representing some Hungary, Finland and Colombia.

So with 50% of the UN covered we started with a concert and ended up with a blur. The night took its casualties and finally only Bou, Txarlie, Cata and I remained to hold the fort. I got home at 5am, went to sleep and ended up, one hour later, looking for the bathroom which brought me into the wrong room. So at 6 am as I was looking for the light switch I hear voices from just nearby asking who the hell was in their room... a quick apology and a pit-stop later and I was back in bed snoring happily.

Perl of the trip though was meeting Marta again. After 4 years since we broke up and without hearing her voice, we met up again and it was wonderful. It was quite an amazing experience, many people say that you should never meet up with your first love but this wasn't the case. Marta is the same happy bubbily person that I remembered, I am glad we waited so long to meet up again because I truly found a friend that knows me like few others!

So guys, thanks to all of you.Aazir, Maurizio, Ema, Elena, Gian, Massi, Paolona, Matteo, Carmen, Paolo and Sara for Genova.Matt, Ned, Chapis, Gasta, Iain and Angela for London.Mum, Gran, Mike, Billy, sarah, Unpronounceable brothers, James, John and Will for Dublin.Peter, Rocio, Txarlie, Cata, Maria, Mariana, Bou, Inigo, Palomita, Ana, Pablo and specially Marta for Madrid.
To see all of these names listed out here makes me wonder why I want to leave, but then I set out from the ancient continent of Europe and upon landing on the golden, jungle-coated shores of latin America my question is answered. I am happy here and now, perhaps I won't be for long, but here and now I am. I love the feeling this part of the world has, the joy in the Cariocas and I will try to make this my home.

And you are all invited.

It wasn't an easy trip, but I'll tell you about that next time round. Ciao!

Beija-Flor has won!! WOOOOO!!!

So it was worth staying till 5am just to see them!

2007 champions and wonderful samba school Beija-Flor (Humming Bird), has done it again and claimed the second title in a row!

Champions 2nd time in a row, Beija-Flor!!!

Also, my second favourite, Grande Rio, came 3rd! Cool!!

I'll be dancing and singing their song all week!
Woooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Of Rio de Janeiro, A Cidade Maravilhosa and the Carneval

CARNEVAL!!!!!

So I've arrived amongst the lush vegetation framed by montains and ocean that is the wonderful Rio de Janeiro and I couldn't have chosen a better time, because the Carneval has just started.
The fattest kid in town has been named king of the Carnival, and together with two godesses who are elected the Queen and Princess of the Carneval they have received the keys of the city and the party has begun.

Just to prove I was actually there :D

The city is vibrating to the sound of samba, but to more degrees than just meets the eyes. There is an electricity in the Air, an underground vibration that seems to go unobserved by many people who have travelled here just for the party.

I cannot expect to understand it but I have started to think of myself as an adopted child of this city. There is a pride in the voice of the cariocas when they talk about the Carnival.

On Sunday we decided to go search for a ticket for the monday night and whilst we were at it we met up with some friends of Achille's.Two of these had been judges of the Carnival at some stage, so they were experts in all that was Carneval.

So we roamed the streets outside the Sambodromo and scored every detail of each float whilst chewing on Grilled Cheese, Hot Dogs and sipping cokes and beers.It was a great night, at the end we found a Stage 1 ticket and I was psychologically ready to attack the Carneval the next day.

But first let me explain how the Carnival works, because I imagine many (as didi I), just think of it of a state-promoted attraction for tourists and alike. Boy is this off the mark!

The carnival is a competition amongst the schools of Samba, and its not for the faint hearted either. Each school prepares a theme and a song (samba naturally). Then the school creates the floats, the Fantasias (costumes), prepares the Batteria (the band) and sends out offers to famous and beautiful samba-loving women to act as Madrine (godmothers) to the various sections of the parade.

The parade of the Scuola de la Samba de los Trees Huggeros

The parade lasts 2 nights, each night 6 samba schools parade, they have 50 minutes from when the parade starts to when it ends for all of its people and floats to be on the Avenida, which is the road that runs through the Sambodromo, the immense concrete structure that was designed and built specifically for the Rio Carneval and which accomodates some 200,000+ people.

Each samba school has somewhere between 6 and 8 of the most spectacular floats in the world, with people dancing from top to bottom. Between the floats there are Alas (wings), which consist of people dressed with a particular costume and which all dance to the rythm of the Batteria; but don't think that this is the Moskow ballet, the paraders must move at a specific speed, to make sure that no time is wasted, but that the 50 minute time limit is not overtaken; but apart from that it's wonderfully original and democratic, with everyone dancing in their own style and fashion.

Not the kind of place you want to be if you've been substance abusing...

It sounds chaotic but it's not, its amazing, everyone has a favourite school, but everyone cheers for everyone. At the end of each school huge handfuls of flags of the following school are handed out and people wave with eagerness as if they were born and bred there.

Schools are massive things, the costs of the floats is recovered by selling the Fantasias to people that want to parade, and also by selling places on the floats. In fact it is a social symbol to be on a float as it is an indication of wealth. The only people that do not have to pay for the pleasure of parading are the women that during the year make the Fantasias, and they have a place of honour in the parade with some of the most beautiful and colorful costumes.

So, the Batteria plays on, half the floats and parade walk by, then the Batteria, with the Godmother, move out and start walking down the Avenida, then the other half of the parade follows suit and they parade until the last float closes the line and the Avenida is cleaned up in prepartion for the next school.

But is it all so simple? Of course not, the Floats, for majestic and wonderful such that they are are mechanical, built in pretty much a rush (they have about 6 months to make them and many can be seen getting a finishing touch just as they enter the Avenida), and well, they're made in Brasil... So the result is that they are the huge, friendly, living giants of parade and just like living creatures they move too quickly, too slowly, they stop and break down. All this made more interesting by the fact that the driver cannot actually see where he is going.

The first float of Grande Rio, and one of the most amazing!

Some of the floats are so massive that they cannot turn into the Sambodromo, so they are brought onto the Avenida in two pieces and then assembled on the fly. Others we saw broke down entering the and had to be pushed by hand, one other's steering broke and they had to perform a Austin Powers-like manouvre back and forth to get a 10 ton behemoth into the Avenida with limited steering. Whilst this is going on, the parade cannot wait so there is an increasing gap between the parade and the problematic float. This is one of the best moments of the parade because no float is quite as good as a problematic one.

Just like a problem child, everyone loves the float that breaks down

People cheer their hearts out when a damaged or delayed float finally starts moving and catches up with the parade, its a wonderful sight.

So what about the people watching? One could say that they are faithful to Samba and to the previous winners. They or should I say we, danced all night, from 9 pm when Padre Miguel entered the Avenida till 5 am when the last float from Beija-Flor streamed by.

Amazingly there is not a single person of the 200,000+ smoking joints or cigarrets, or drunk, people just drink a couple of cokes, a beer or two, a few bottles of water and then dance and dance and sing. Sing? Yeah, because the schools publish the songs and play them on the radio weeks before the show, moreover they print a booklet with the songs of all of the schools, so you can just read the straight off the page and sing with everyone else, even with a limited knowledge of the Portuguese :P Each song lasts about 3-4 minutes and loops for the entire hour or so of the school's parade.

She turned around as I was taking the pic, so she deserves a mention

By the end you have the sounds of samba in your head and you leave the Sambodromo exausted but thrilled, surrounded by people who head for omnibuses, trains and taxis, still singing the tunes of their favourite schools. So, which was the best school of the ones I saw?

Here's my list
Best Batteria: Padre Miguel

Best Women: Grande Rio
Best Theme: Villa Isabel
Best Song: Imperatriz
Best Broken Float: Villa Isabel
Best Float: 1st float of Grande Rio

Best Over All: Beija-Flor
Most Crowd Inspiring: Beija-Flor

Lets see who wins (Go Beija-Flor or Grande Rio!!)

Of Panama, Bocas del Toro, Panama City and final adventures

It been a long time in the making and someone finally bitched at me to finish or better continue the blog, so why not!

a hole remains in Bocas del Toro, returning to the normality of life, of David, and the final twists and turns of this magnificent journey.

Lets start from Bocas del Toro, first of all its an island which isn't easy to reach, specially if you're a group of 4 guys and a girl with a van full of stuff you don't trust to leave behind and a tight wallet to boot.

We left the Naughty in a parking lot after much debate on whether we should pay as much as a car and whether we should leave the keys or not.

At the end we settled for leaving the keys and not paying more. A kind of modest sacrifice.

The boat ride is packed with foreigners and isn't gentle. Its akin to a bus ride in Honduras, except I imagine the suspension is even harder here. You bellow at full speed across some pretty amazing crystal blue ocean and weave in an out of small caribean islands. Finally you reach the main island of Bocas with its colourful main street and buzzing life.

We decided to start scouring the area for a place to stay and after being brought to some ridiculously expensive extorsion centres, we settled for a centrally located Hostel called Heike.

Now Heike is a great little place, run by friendly people who seem to be just more tourists passing by who decided to stay a little longer and eventually got a deal whereby they run the place and the boss turns a blind eye to their complete lack of dosh.

The first night we headed out to find some fun and ended up meeting a whole bunch of fun, drunk and interesting people in Heike s sister hotel, Mondo Taitu.

After piling up the drinking buddies we headed over to several other bars which all appear to have been built on the water and designed to help backpackers, balancedly challenged from alcohol, to fall into the glittering abyss...

Short of damage to our livers and much ado about nothing, the first night passed by with only mild casualties and a pretty bad hangover which was made all the worse by one of the worst burgers in history at a massive 4 dollars!

Moreover in the delirious drunkness of the previous night, we seemed to have scored the friendship of a Valentian of dubious sexuality, which apparently had also been invited to join us in the Naughty in our trip to Panama.

Natually when the alcohol wore off and the reality wore in, we found the error of our ways but couldn't for the life of us understand which one had committed the fatal mistake of extending the invitation to the connational of the magic 3.

Natxo seemed to believe I had invited him and seemed pissed by the fact that he was a "pesado", David seemed frustrated at the idea that someone was entering the van without consulting him, and Roque seemed to just get over his hangover.

Biancas as usual was bucholic and didn't seem to care particularly.

We decided to set out for one of the famous beaches, and, one quick taxi drive later, ended up in what is probably the lamest beach in the carribean.

Not only was the beach filthy and the water dirty, it also seemed to contain some kind of animal/chemical/algae that would sting your sking like shit whenever you went into the water.

Fortunately a bloated, round hide of a dead cow came to help and we engaged first in a footie match between us, and eventually attracted the attention of the local youth who promptly organised a footie match.

Now, the team was the 4 of us and Biancas, but due to centuries of inbreeding and basically being ignorant dicks, they decided that a woman was unworthy of their spectacular football field (we were on the beach) and the Biancas couldn't play.

Having been brought up by an Irish mother with whom my dad, my brother and I have a hard time keeping up, and with a dad that was travelling a lot for work, I felt that my female parent would probably kick my ass back to the early 80s if I let it slide.

So for the first time in 2 months I showed the best of my italian polemic side and told Biancas to ignore the generations of inbreeding talking to her and to try to break his ankle at the first chance.

Biancas tho was having none of it so she simply retired to sunbathe whilst I insulted the parents of the sexist fool, who were probably brother and sister anyway...

The game was like an unfair videogame. The first team of kids played and were small, weak and defeated. Then came the late teenagers, who were stronger, faster, better and defeated with more difficulty.

Finally came the beheamoths, those who do nothing all day but play footie on the beach and who are big, strong, fast and more than all, evil muthas...

There was much bone cracking, and eventually we retired to drink, read and play some volleyball.

We decided to head ack to the hostel and prepare for night number 2.

The night was a wierd one indeed. We ended up in a beautiful bar called Barco Undido, the sunken boat.

Its effectively built around the sunken wreck of a boat, and it is a true deathtrap for drunken tourists. That night David managed to convince a 34 year old mother-of two that the way to win my heart over was to grab my crotch repeatedly, and Natxo began his being stalked by a Chilean connational.

Of course it was a night of rhum, fun and blurred memories, which ended up with some looking for private rooms, and others trying to chat up a couple of locals at a burger stand at 5 in the morning in a desperate last attempt to get lucky.

The next day again, there was much toxicity to be gotten rid of, so we headed to the beach once again, and this time we got it right, we hit playa del drago and playa de la Estrella. Here we saw what the Carribean is really like.

Playa de la estrella is so called for its huge number of starfish lying just a few feet beneath the crystal clear water. If that weren't enough they slowly move between corals which resemble flowers and spunges.

The sight was simply too beautiful to ignore, so we rented some scuba diving equipment from a cute 17 year old (whom naturaly we tried to chat up) and hit the water.

Towards the end of the 2 hours I was diving quite far out when I see a kid jumping into the water and swimming as fast as he could towards me.

Naturally the first thing you think is that you're gonna get eaten by sharks, but not this time. As the kid gets closer, I notice that he is swimming towards some dolphins, swimming just a few meters away from where I was.

The water was murky so I never got to see the slender creatures dance in the absence of gravity, but I did get close enought to almost touch them on the surface and to hear them click and sing.

Sitting there, with the sound of the dolphins in my ears, the beauty of the beach in front of me and a clear sky above me I thought this trip would never end.

That night we once again hit the nightlife of Bocas del Toro together with some newly acquired friends. The party this time was across the bay on a bar built on poles above the water.

The night was amazing, with Natxo being pursuited by a Chilean stalker, Roque falling in love with a Brasilian/Portuguese and David and Biancas just being allover ingenious in they demonstration of alcohol consumption.

Half way through the night we moved from the bar to a ship in the harbour and as the ship sailed around in circles, we partied and danced till dawn.

It was ironic to discover that one of the girls we were hitting on was the mother of the 17 year old who has rented us the snorkelling kit, I guess we're starting to get old!

We once again returned to the quietness of our slumbering hostel-room companions to discover that a new girl had joined the room, and that the next day we were bound for an extra dose of Argentina & Carribean.

We decided to hit a miniscule island which is in reality a natural reserve. The island is tiny, it takes about 40 minutes to get there and you have to pay to get onto it.

It takes a full 20 minutes to walk around the coast and most of that is spent evoiding fallen trees. It is basically a pile of sand with trees in the middle. We landed there with a group of 5 argintinean girls and just relaxed under the scorching sun before wading back out to the boat and heading back.

The final night was amazing, whilst the others decided to embrace their Pimp and Gangsta egos I sailed down the well known road of dressing up as a nerd with undoubtable results. Roque subjectes me to the worst possible attack of fits of laughter when upon awaking I found him overlooking Bianca's bed with an open shirt, a disgustedly hungover expression on his face and the remains of a painted beard on his face and cross on his chest. My friend I will never forget that!

So was the adventure over? Almost, we finally left the island and made our way down the country and to Panama City. The trip was long tho and we decided to stop on the city of David. I was driving, the sun was setting and we were looking for the hostel when we arrived at a crossroads.

The sun was blindingly low so I never noticed it approaching. I slammed on the Naughtie's breaks and she stopped firmly but smoothly. The guys in the back hardly noticed. What they did notice was my face turn deadly pale. 

You see, as we approached the crossroads a truck was coming in the other direction and it was towing a damaged car. When they saw us arriving the driver panicked and slammed on the break. The car being towed was tied to the truck using a steel pipe, and this made it so that the bonnet, which had only been laid on top of it, fell off with much rattle.

At this point the driver of the truck went to inspect the damage. I had stopped a few meters before our stop line, so in no way was I responsible, although the driver didn t seem to agree. I was wondering what to do (ok I was in total panic, my brain shut down and I was shouting at the others "what do I do? what do I do?"), and I decided to move from the middle of the road. i turned the corner and parked the Naughty. At this point, the driver started walking up to my window with the steel bar in his hands and my bubble just popped. I completely frieked out, at this stage David, Bianca, Natcho and Roque got out to talk to the guy whilst I sat there shaking in terror and smoking a fag.

What followed is one of only two things I regret missing of the trip (Mofletines, the other being Jerry's explanation on the beach on christmas night :P).

David, Natxo, Roque and Bianca started first apologising, then apparently confusing him with technical/legal babble. But this is just hearsay, I'll never know.

Eventually the guy decided not to use our van as a ramming tool, or us as doormats and drove off. I relinquished the wheel and sat in the back whilst we drove out of David as we deemed it would not be too safe to stay.

Over you say? Well no :P See with the Naughty the adventure never ends. We arrived in Panama CIty and decided that the day before I left we would go see the canal around 3-4pm when the ships were passing through. Before that we just chilled and I went to an internet cafe to copy some photos and burn a few cds. As I was there I checked my email and discovered that I could check in for my flight for Rio the following day. I had my passport handy so I decided to check in.

I go through all the process then I get a warning at the end saying "please remember to present a valid picture ID and yellow fever certificate when checking in"

Yellow what?... wtf?... oh crap...

I run out, down to a travel agency which confirms that I need a valid yellow fever cert to travel to Brasil, but no ado they say, it needs to be dated 10 days before travel to be valid... shiiiitttt!!!

I run back to the Hostel, I enter the room when David, Natxo and Roque are and speak the works that before me have come from the space. "Guys, we have a problem!" which translated to "I'm screwed".

So Natxo proposed we go to the airport and speak to someone on the local medical staff.

Three hours later we had picked up two canadian girls we met in Bocas, spoken to half the staff in the airport, discovered the prices for flights to Colombia, yet were still a certificate short.

We did however have the address of the National Vaccine Center for Panama. We decided that worrying was pointless so we met up with an old friend from Mexico I met in Maersk and his lovely wife, had some food, then Natxo, Marie and I hit a rock bar and had a few shots of whisky. In an ironic conclusion to the trip we ended up in this unknown bar, sitting beside one of the first guys we had me on the trip in Guatemala. I left them chatting and hit the sack, although the risk of not getting the plane the next day kept me from getting much sleep.

The next morning I woke up early and Natxo, Roque and I hit the Naughty after bidding Biancas and David goodbye.

We drove up and down the city looking for the bloody centre and finally found it after 2 hours at 9.30 am. My flight was at 11.30 which means we had to be at the airport at 10.30 and it was about 30-40 minutes away so we were running on a thin line.

I had reheased my lines well, shaven to give me more of a baby face. I entered the room of the doctor and started reciting my play

"They stole my bag" - true

"I didn't know I needed the certificate" - true

"You have to help me" - true

"If I miss this plane I'll have to wait 10 days and I'll miss a flight to paris, one to ireland and then one to italy" - true

"I had my cert in the bag" - not very true at all :P

She looked up at me with a stern face and said "I'll help you if you help me..."

An hour later I was eating a sandwitch in the airport with Natxo and Roque, my bag was on the plane, being weighed down by a yellow fever certificate, but my wallet was 40 dolalrs lighter.

I smiled at this and as we gobbled up the last few chips I realised that this trip was over, but another one was about to begin.

This is probably the only thing that kept me smiling as I bid Natxo and Roque farewell and I waved that white beauty of the Naughty rumble into the distance.

A new trip was about to begin in Rio de Janeiro, the city of cities, but I smiled at the knowledge that sometime, somewhere, the Naughty Adventure would continue...

Of Costa Rica, losing some, finding some and nearly killing some other

The night after the rafting was amazing, Txarlie turned up completely unchanged after 4 years and it was a fantastic reunion.

We decided to celebrate the only night as 7 of us together and joined by Margot for the special event, and we opened the bottle of 23 year old Zacapa that I had received from the guys, Teresa and Christina on my birthday in lake Atitlan. The bottle traveled across of almost all of Central America and it was sure worth the wait, Zacapa is officially the best rhum on the planet!

We finish it off whilst chatting about music, new places and old memories, and head out to test the local music scene.

The night was fantastic, we danced to the sound of some lame raggaeton and then decided to extend our own party by driving the Naughty just out of the Hostel and drink rhum till dawn in company of Maria, Catalina, Margot, Txarlie, Natxo, Jose, David, Roque and of course the Naughty.

The entire gangs, left to right, Jose, Margot, David, Roque, Cata, Natxo, myself, Bianca and the Naughty

It was a hilarious night, we stayed up to bid Maria a sad farewell and after that, since sleep did not appear to be an option, we reache a time around 9 am when Txarlie, Natxo, Roque and I decided that we should go to a neighbouring town and find the founder of Calypso. This genious is a 95 year old man that has been living his entire life as a musician on the caribbean. We arrived at his house and he wasn't at home, so we were instructed by the neighbours that he may be having breakfast at a nearby restaurant.

Natxo with his tongue out, Txarlie and the bottle of Zacapa

We arrived there and thankfully he was nowhere to be found. Thankfully because the sight of 4 very unsober youngsters turning up at his breakfast would probably have been sufficient to finish off the musical talent.

The Caribbean by Mansanillo, paradise

We had some breakfast and headed back to bed. The two days ware spent in the company of Txarlie, naturally with a night of delirium and then we bid Txarlie farewell after a great footie match of Real Madrid and a dip into the Carribean.

You gotta love photoshop, right guys ;)

At this point we were joined by the latest member of the trip, Bianca, all the way from Switzerland. We had a last meal together, bid the wonderful Cata farewell with tears in our eyes, and head out to cross the border to Panama, on our last stretch.

The amazing border between Costa Rica and Panama

We drove across the world's funkiest border and arrived just before 6 which is closing time at the offices. The result was the fastest boarding crossing in the world.

We settled down in the first town and woke up early next morning for a little shopping spree, and a boat ride into the delirious abyss of Bocas del Toro.