Getting back to normality

I'm relieved to say my reverse culture-shock only lasted about 5 minutes. As soon as I immersed myself in British culture, I felt truly at home again. Quite randomly, the first thing Hugo and I did on getting back to our little cottage, was build a garden table out of a felled tree. I think he was trying to prove a point, as I had been going on about how brilliant at carpentry I now am, following all the construction I did on Raleigh. Needless to say, my three-legged attempt didn't stand up (at all) and so I swallowed my pride and stood back as he hammered a fourth leg on. Anyhow, it now sits under the apple tree where we have strung up our Nicaraguan hammock, and will be a cracking place to rest a G&T on a Sunday afternoon.

I had such fun galavanting about the UK last week catching up with people. From the 6 lambs born at home, to meeting my new goddaughter, Skye, to catching up with so many friends. I had a hilarious breakfast with my old boss, Tim Loughton MP on the terrace at Parliament, which re-charged my interest in getting involved up here in Scotland. I just love the atmosphere of the place and all the running around with bills and green papers tucked under arms.

On the work front, now that I am back in Glasgow, things have progressed (although I can't really believe my luck...). In a very exciting twist, I have been promoted to Associate Director at Taylor McKenzie! It seems ridiculous that a year ago when I got to Scotland I actually had to temp at Arnold Clark, and considered being a chef in an Italian restaurant because of the difficulty in finding a job, and now here I am! It seems too good to be trued that I went away for 4 months, had the time of my life in Central America on Raleigh, and then got promoted. If only life was always this easy.

Part of the reason for my quite ridiculous promotion is due to the website which I re-branded before Christmas. The site is still: www.taylormckenzieuk.com and it was my concept (including the tagline: 'who said curiosity killed the cat?') Anyhow, it launched the week that I left and it has attracted lots of potential clients and potential employees, so thank goodness for that.

You may think the photo a little random, especially as I have no idea who the child is, but I thought I'd include it as I took it today at lunchtime in the city centre, just before a rainfall deluge, and love that that the camera focused on the little boy, allowing the rest of the world to be as dizzy around him as he surely was feeling. A little bit like me.

The pressure is truly on now to be uber creative.

One last adventure

Most people get culture shock when they leave home and go somewhere new. I've always had it the other way round, and find it really strange coming home. This time is no exception. I can't get used to the fact that I have a cold nose, there are no cockroaches and there is no Reggaethon thumping across the airwaves on the radio.

It is wonderful to be back though, and Scotland is looking delicious.

Getting back was rather touch and go though, given a monumental display of acute stupidity on Friday night.

Essentially we managed to get from Nicaragua to Costa Rica and from Costa Rica to New York in 2 days with nothing going wrong. We must have high-fived each other one time too many and fate decided to intervene by denying us the curiosity of knowing what time it was when we landed in NY (You know how normally the pilot says something along the lines of 'welcome to NY where the time is 4 o clock...' this time he didn't and we didn't check) Although I thought it odd that the Eastern Sea Board had the same time zone as Costa Rica, I didn't check it, I didn't ask anyone and I didn't challenge Hugo who said his brother who lived in NY was always 6 hours behind.

So, with 5 hours to kill between flights, we had lots of coffee and donuts, browsed in the book shops, sat on abdominal work out machines that behave like bucking broncos, and finally, deplete, we sat down at a nearby gate to chew the fat. At 18.30 it was getting dark outside and I commented lazily on how early it was getting dark compared to this time of year in England. Still, nothing twigged.

At 18.45, just before Hugo took a sleeping pill in preparation for falling asleep just as soon as he sat down on the plane, he checked the screens and all colour left his skin. There was no longer a Glasgow flight. I turned to the man on my right and asked him for the time. It was 20.45.


We had missed our plane by an hour. And all this time, we had been sitting in the wrong gate, chatting. The wrong gate! The stupidity of it all absolutely killed me. We thought we had so much time, we had just sat down at the nearest place...2 gates away from ours.

Hearts thumping like mad, jet lagged brains struggling to make sense of what had just happened, we raced through the terminal to the Continental desk, dragging paintings, ceramic pots, stacks of coffee and other goodies from Central America behind us.

We thought of making up some convoluted story about me being sick (er, for the last 3 hours?) or us both falling asleep (more likely, but still...) but settled on the honest approach and stood in front of the counter pinning all our hopes on Rob, the customer services man. We reckoned that new flights from NY would have been c.£300 each, plus the night in NY and food etc etc, basically it was more that either of us could afford. Especially me, a chariddee worker.

White faced and perspiring gently, we explained that we'd just missed our flight, and waited for the diatribe about how this was all our fault (which it was) and therefore we'd have to wait 4 days for the next flight to the UK (Manchester probably) and pay first class rates for it as there were no other seats available.

But, the lovely man from Continental said 'ok, so you missed your flight? That's ok, you've been automatically rebooked onto the next available flight which is tomorrow night, same time. Let me just print out the hotel and meal vouchers for you.'

Hugo gripped my hand beneath the counter. I stifled a massive grin.

And sure enough, no questions asked, we found ourselves on a free shuttle bus to the Sheraton, where we had a deliciously comfy room (valued at $265) and a massive supper. The next day, instead of waking up in Glasgow, we woke up in NY and took the train into Manhatten where the first thing we did was climb the Empire State Building.

We ate salad and bagels in a park watching the world go by (all the girls are wearing dresses in NY) and did a bit of compulsory shoe shopping. Amazing!

I also hugged a NY FD fireman (still wearing my
Gallo Pinto Nicaragua t-shirt, all other clothes had been sent back to Glasgow on the flight we had missed).


It was such a fab sunny day, and such a treat to get a day in NY after being in such remote parts of the world for so long. Definitely the best way to end my 4 month adventure...

...Not that I'd recommend the missing-plane tactic to anyone else!

Volanoes, Imperial cities, tacos and faceplants

I can hardly believe it is all coming to a screeching halt, but nothing lasts forever, not least volcano climbing, hammock swinging or surfing in paradise.
Following our turtle watching, horse riding and wild fishing experience on the caribbean coast of Costa Rica, Hugo and I braved something verging on 18 hours of chicken busses to get to Isla Omatepe, in Lake Nicaragua. We had been rather too confident of getting a place on the luxorious Trans Nica airconditioned, fully reclining seated bus (all for 12 dollars..) and discovered to our horror that they were fully booked and we had to slum it on a very slow, smelly local bus. So, it was with relief that we sucked in the fresh air on the shore of Lake Nicaragua, watching the smoke pour out of Volcano Concepcion far ahead of us.

Lake Nicaragua, although not the best place to go for a swim (20,000 bull sharks per year were killed for the Japanese sushi tables in the 90´s, I dont want to think how many there are sharking about in the brown murky waters now), is absolutely stunning and definitely worth a visit. We donned the well trodden in hiking boots and stormed Volcan Madeira (1394m) in about 2 and a half hours, going through dry tropical forest to wet dripping rainforest, moss and vines clinging to the trees through the clouds, to the green lagoon right at the top. Really beautiful, and I was grateful for the training Raleigh had given me when the guide commented on how fit we both were. (It´s just not something people usually say about me..)

From Isla Omatepe we hit Grenada full of charming town houses, a dilapidated cathedral and a buzzing town square full of artesians. Nearly bought a t-shirt with a picture of 2 armadillos on. The top armadillo said ármadillo´, the bottom one was covered in hand grenades and a machine gun and said ´Nicaraguan armadillo´which made me laugh. Probably quite politically uncorrect of me, but there we go.

I then dragged Hugo up to Miraflor to meet my Nicaraguan family and sleep in the grain storage hut (though no tarantulas this time), and he understood what Raleigh has been like for me. After telling everyone he is a farmer, he was taken to milk the cows, make tortillas, comment on the size of their pigs and then a 2 hour inspection of their coffee plantation and potatoe fields. Very funny. I was really chuffed to see the roof is now on the community centre that Raleigh started buildling, and I met with the lovely Don Antonio who told me the flooring is going down this week, so that is a good job very nearly well done.

It was therefore with slight bus-sickness that we got all the way back from the Honduran boarder to the south of the country for our last 3 days surfing at San Juan del Sur and its northern beach of Madeira. Although San Juan isn´t much, the remote beaches to the south and north are out of this world, and surfing there with absolutely no property development, no lifeguards, nothing, was quite adrenaline fuelled for me, a cornwall bred surfer. The first day we hired a boat to take us down the coast and it dropped us about 200m offshore, where we could see the terrifying spray of the massive waves crashing against the beach ahead of us.
We then hiked a km or so up the white beaches to get to Matildas campsite which had the dreamlike hammocks and a beach shack where you could buy juice in plastic sacks and ice if you pre-ordered it, and not much else. Needless to say, I have been pounded by the waves, bullied and crashed about by the mighty pacific and feel like every muscle in my body needs some serious spa treatment.

But now it´s homeward bound for me, and the end of the most fantastic 4 months away. I am really excited about getting back and seeing everyone and boring everyone stupid with photos. And if you have read Zannas comment on this blog, I hope to see you on the 19th at Aragon house.

Next update, London or Glasgow (gulp!)