Going to Honduras

Going to Honduras

I am now back in Costa Rica after five days in Panama. It was a good swing down there. Glad I went. Now I am getting ready to go to Honduras. I got on an archaeology project at Copan. I am going to try to make it there in one clean swoop, so I got a ticket on the Tica Bus that goes to San Pedro Sula. Paid nearly $50 for this ticket, and it takes two days of riding across three countries to get there. So I am going to get the Chinese Tourist tour of Northern Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Southern Honduras. Oh well, I have been to these countries before, and I need to get to get to Copan quickly.

It is set up, a month of archaeology fieldwork at a famous site, and then I am free to wander on. Mira and I found an apartment a block from the Copan Archaeology office for $100 a month. That is $50 each. Not bad, the article that I wrote for Dan at Café Abroad Magazine will be getting me a bed for a month. Thanks Dan!

After Copan I think that we will be traveling through Guatemala, Belize, and Southern Mexico. Going to try to find an ‘on-the-table’ way to go to Cuba. Hey Dan, want a good story? I hear that journalist can go to Cuba and side step the embargo nonsense. All you have to do is fill out a few forms, and away I go!

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 27, 2008

Panama is Alright

Panama is Alright

For every sky-rise resort soaring into the clouds, there is a hovel tucked beneath that offers the real face of a country at a skinny fraction of the cost. I am at the beach in Panama, in a cheap hovel, listening to the reggae-tone music blare over a little community on Saturday-party-night. I am feeling fine. I smile for the sake of my four walls and corrugated sheet metal roof. $6 gets me on to the next day well rested and smiling.

The tourist towers and sterile bars of the wealthy could not touch the character of this poor little town that lays only one beach away. This is a good town. But it was a hike to get to.

I hopped the bus out of Panama City on the Ave. Espana route to the Albrook station. From here I boarded a bus to Playa Gordondo for $2. I rode this bus for around an hour and a half until the driver told me to get out. I guess I was at the place I wanted to be at, although it appeared to just be a bus stop on the side of the highway. But some of the other riders on the bus pointed out the way to the beach. After provisioning up with foodstuffs, I asked the Chinese clerk how far the beach was. She told me it was nearby so I began hiking in the midday sun. I hiked on and on. I cleared at least five miles before I began wondering where the beach was. Tried following a sign for a hostel off of the main road but it came to no end. Went back to the main road and carried on. Found the beach. I was very hot in my black jeans, boots, long sleeve shirt and vest. Needed some shade, found some. Drank a beer and looked out over the sea as my body cooled. Mountains broke into the sky out in the distance, the sea broke upon the earth. I breathed deep and smiled. This place is beautiful. Families played in the ocean, and couples caressed on the shore. I ate an orange and dug on the scene that played out before me.

I like Panama. The people are in the streets, everyone is laughing, and a greeting is exchanged each time someone passes in the streets. This place has depth. Panama is for real. The palm trees sway, the sky is warm, and little dark colored kids run around with big mad smiles on their faces and bodies covered with beach sand.

The beach is made up of volcanic black sand and the waves smoothly come in and out through the long, long day. The sun really shines here. And the people smile. I like Panama. This is a country to return to. Nay, this is a country to walk across.

I cannot say anything better about any land.

Walking down the beach watching the setting sun.

Panama is Alright.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Playa Gordondo, Panama
February 23, 2008

Low Density High Income Tourism

Low density, High Income Tourism

This is the creed of Panamanian tourism. Resorts, resorts, and the cars and buses that bring the people to the resorts. But those upright shafts to boredom have nothing for me. I walked by them for kicks tonight, and peered into the White Man bars. They were smiling and laughing pasted on laughs with their white faces, but they did not seem to be having any fun. In fact, they seemed rather bored as they would walk out of their expensive bars and stiffly stare out to sea. I cocked my head and walked back to the poor man´s beach with the black people who are camping out and listening to loud music and sancing and really having fun.

Low Density, High Income Tourism is boring.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Playa Gordondo, Panama
February 23, 2008

The Panama Canal

The Panama Canal

Visited the Panama Canal today. Yup. It was a canal. Felt as if I was checking something off of a list as I stood on the observation tower looking down upon the ships in the locks.

I took the public bus out of Panama City and made Miraflores within twenty minutes. From there it was a short walk to the canal. Watched a big ship move by through the locks as I walked towards it. When I arrived at the canal it became apparent that it was heavily guarded and gated in. The romantic taste of the canal quickly escaped from my mouth as I was scolded by a security guard for looking at the canal from an uncommon vantage point. Or maybe he thought that I was considering thieving it and did not want to take any chances. Either way, I then realized that I would have to meet the throng of tourists that were huddled together below the base of the large observation tower that jutted out over the waterway if I was to really look at the canal.

The Miraflores Locks of the Panama Canal

I debated if it was worth it. The price was $5 to look at the Panama Canal. Mira was annoyed that we were being charged money just to only look at something, and that there were security employed seemingly to just prevent us from stealing these precious looks at the canal from the ground.

We debated just riding back to the city, as we went to the canal zone, watched a ship move passed from a distance, jump up in the air at a fence and saw some water. We already went to the Panama Canal, did we really need to pay $5 to climb an observation tower with the tourists.

We meandered over to observation building because that was just where our feet took us. Sneaking in did not seem likely of success, but we did notice that students can get in for three dollars instead of five. Five dollars was too much to pay, but three dollars was managable. Without adu I dug out my pile of student identification cards that I keep on me for such purposes- I will probably still be using them when I am 65 years old- found one without a photo that Mira could use, and passed them under the ticket window with six dollars. No questions were asked, and we were given two tickets.

So we ran up the tower and looked out over the Miraflores locks.

The Panama Canal.

Took some photos, drank a Sprite, watched a ship in the distance belch clouds of think black smoke from its hull, looked at a big crane, listened to a woman yell facts over a loud speaker.

Thought of Richard Halliburton.

No, our Panama Canal adventures were not very similar.



My cards are cast with the Erie Canal and the Grand Canal of China.

Canals without fences are for Romance.

The Panama Canal.

More photographs of the Panama Canal on

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Panama City, Panama
February 22, 2008

Tica Bus to Panama City

Tica Bus to Panama City

Rode the Tica Bus from San Jose, Costa Rica to Panama City yesterday. Good ride. Comfortable bus service. I wrote Travel Tip #6- Avoid International Bus and Train Services earlier to warn against the economic disadvantage of taking international bus services, but I found that these quick, direct buses in Central America are not that much more expensive. I paid $26 to make Panama City in 15 hours. I probably would have dropped $22 and twice as many hours to take my usually well heeded local buses. Another advantage of the Tica Bus was that I could ride it over night and saved money that otherwise probably would have went towards a bed.

So in the end, the international bus service saved me a couple dollars. I was also really feeling a good jump coming on, so I went down to Panama City as quick as I could!

When it comes down to it, Tica Bus is a good service. As momma of the boarding house says, ¨Tice Bus, que lindo!¨ If the boarding house momma, who is afraid of Chinese people, says that something is nice and not scary, it is really not scary. Tica Bus, que lindo.

I am in Panama City now, watching the CNN news broadcast a story about the winter storms that are hitting my family´s home right now. ¨Freezing rain and sleet.¨I am sweating in Panama. Suckers.

I don´t know why everybody is not in Panama.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Panama City, Panama
February 22, 2008

On Adventure and Canals

On Adventure and Canals

I am going to Panama for real. I have bulked at my direction a couple of times now, but I am sure that I going south. Or so I assume. I never really know where I will end up. But I should be going into San Jose tomorrow to pick up the tickets.

I think that I am just going to make Panama City in one clean swoop from San Jose. I have a thing for canals, I grew up on the Erie. Maybe I will go to the Panama Canal and write home about it.

Canals, canals, canals I do not really know why I like them so much. My attraction to them is very ingrained in my childhood. When ever I would go out looking for mischief on my bicycle when I was a kid I would always ride down the Erie Canal. My first adventures happened right on the banks of that waterway. The canal was freedom. The canal was a direct route to the far away. The direct route to excitement.

I can remember my adventures on the Erie canal very vividly. I am reliving them as I write this:

I touched my first pair of boobies on the Erie Canal. I remember riding down the canal on my bicycle to meet my first love. The Erie canal was my escape route away from angry school teachers, angry parents, and the police. I have memories of hiding down in the lee of her banks as the police sirens howled over head. A girl and I once went to get marriage certificates by riding down the Erie Canal to the next town, we ended up eating apple pie at a diner instead. Later on, Erik the Pilot and I would go night fishing in the canal. I never caught anything but a hangover.

The Erie Canal is synonymous with the freedom of my youth. Riding my bicycle down its banks, catching water snakes, and even going jogging with my mother, the canal was the direct route to somewhere else.

It could be said that have a thing for canals. Perhaps this is part of my attraction to China? I wonder what adventure the Panama Canal will bring?

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Barva, Costa Rica
February 20, 2008

Kelty Redwing Backpack

Kelty Redwing Backpack

The backpack that I use for traveling is a Kelty Redwing that has a carrying capacity of 2650 cc. I must proclaim that this bag has been the best that I have ever traveled with . . . and I have tangoed with many different kinds of bags while tramping down the Open Road.

From a full on “backpacker’s” backpack to a ratty old hand-made leather satchel, I have tried out, used, and discarded dozens of different kinds of traveling bags. Some bags hung from the shoulders, some from my hands, and some just rode on my back like a turtle’s shell.


Through trying out all of these various designs, I have returned to these obvious seeming conclusions:

1. The back is the best place to carry the bulk of my load.

2. The standard hiker’s backpack design with a think waist strap, stiff, well-contoured frame, and padded straps, is most suited for handling this load.

3. The bag should be as small as possible. If I wish to travel efficiently I need a backpack that is only a little larger than that of a school child’s. In point, I need to be able to slip it around under my arm and reposition it at a moments notice. I also need to be able to sit it in my lap while riding in a crowded bus. I do not want to be bulked up and weighted down by my backpack.

I once heard an old traveler adage somewhere that went something like:

"No matter how big your bag is, you will fill it.”

I believe that this is true. The size of the bag is your carrying capacity, you simply cannot go beyond it. Carry a small bag, you carry a small load. Goodbye socks, spare pants, and undershirts; do I really need two pairs of underwear? Hehehe

The Kelty backpack that I have been using for the past two years is only 2650 cc. This is not very big, but I feel it is the perfect size for traveling. It fits Old Faithful, my books, and my clothes without a hitch, and I am still completely mobile. This is all I need.

While traveling, there is simply not much that I really need. If I wash a few articles of clothing every time I shower (go to Travel Tip #4- Wash Your Laundry While you Shower), I have found that I only need 1-2 sets. I find absolutely no reason to have more than two pairs of pants (I often times only travel with the ones that cover my body). If I wash them at night and ring them out really well, they are usually almost dry by the time I need them in the morning. The same goes for shirts. I met a girl the other day who was concerned that she ONLY brought nine pairs of pants to Costa Rica with her. Her traveling bag must be huge! The Kelty Redwing is probably not for her.


Other than its perfect size, the Kelty Redwing has every other feature that I need it to have:

1. It is well made. The seems are double stitched, the material seems to be durable.

2. It is extremely comfortable and distributes weight better than any backpack that I have ever used before.

3. It is dark colored. I do not want to be tramping with a bright orange backpack.

4. It has five pockets that are well placed: a big one, a medium one, small one, and two side pockets who’s zippers are so poorly designed that I do not use them.

5. It has zippered pockets so that I can open the bag like a suitcase and get things that are at the bottom. I do not like top-loading backpacks because I have to dump out everything in the bag to get anything out of it.

6. It has a lifetime warranty from EMS (sporting goods store) if I have the receipt, so when the zippers finally bite the dust, I can send it home and get my money back. Then I can just get a brand new one.

7. It costs $80- 100.

The only drawback to the Kelty Redwing backpack, besides the side pocket zippers, is that the zippers have cord tabs, rather than metal, so they cannot be locked securely. Look at the photo. I have found a way to work around this by locking the top carrying handle to the top of the daisy chain. This would make it really difficult to squeeze out Old Faithful, but I still would prefer Andy’s Padlock Hasp Slider locking mechanism.

In all, the Kelty Redwing backpack is perfect for long haul travel. It has almost everything I need, in a package that is the perfect size.

Until Andy chases down his windmill and makes the perfect travel backpack, I will proudly use the Kelty Redwing.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 19, 2008

* Traveler Photographs.com * Vagabond Fieldnotes *

Guatemala Civil War Story

Guatemala Civil War Story

To read the article that I just wrote about the story of a Guatemalan refugee who fled her war torn country to Costa Rica please follow this link, Guatemala 1980.

From the article:

"She spoke with a biting sincerity and curtness that were moving far beyond her words alone. She was a survivor, having witnessed the sharp end of life first hand. Now a professor at Long Island University’s Global College in Costa Rica, the woman who I will refer to only as La Profesora, once walked a teetering line between life and death.

Guatemala, 1980: The earth is scorched bare, smoldering ashes still burn hot upon what was once a vibrant village, and humanity turns an ill face away from the reign of terror that has spread over the land. 440 Indigenous villages have been razed to the ground, their inhabitants either killed or moved into internment camps; Guatemala City has become a war-zone, and the military police work with a precision the S.S. would be proud of. Guatemala is in the midst of a civil war between governmental forces and guerrilla organizations that lasted for 37 years, and claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of civilians, peasants, revolutionaries, soldiers, fathers, brothers, and friends. Throughout all of this, La Profesora was but a young university student tentatively stepping through this maze of kidnaping, murder, and terror."

To read the full article go to Guatemala 1980

To read the full interview go to La Profesora Guatemala Refugee Interview

This article is set to be published by Cafe Abroad Magazine in April. Fifty more dollars in a traveler's pocket can never be refused.

Writing for the bean money.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 19, 2008

Boots or Hearts

Boots or Hearts

Boots or Hearts- this is what Erik the Pilot told me.

I sometimes loath writing about the lull points in travel when the romance of the Open Road begins to run around to the lee side of the island; when I find myself hitting the occasional wall and looking around in an attempt to find another way out.

Whatever these Costa Rican days may seem to a reader, rest assured that I am still going through these days with a smile on my face. Writing is a way to take the world in close and then push it all away, unscathed, untethered, and with a big ol smile.

I would think that it would be silly for my to only write about the high times of travel, when I am facing the wind and riding the rolling waves of freewill and intuition. But this is the stuff for the tourist magazines that are stuffed in the airplane seat pouches; the kind of writing that is meant to only be a bridge from advertisement to advertisement.

Somebody would have to pay me a little more money to paste a false smile over the world.

This are my impressions of the world as I move through it. I want to write what I really feel. Even if I bore myself to pieces.

To travel with a girlfriend is to move through occasional, unpredictable war-zones. I have not really been getting along with Mira for this stretch of our travels. Words that are spoken are taken to the extremes of their meanings. Criticisms of each other are quickly one-uped and escalated. This has gotten hard. But I think that it is normal. I would say that the person who is able to travel with anybody else for a year and a half and not wake up snarling at them every morning is a patient, strong-willed specimen of the human.

Mira and I split up for a few days. We both had a real good time. We both breathed a little deeper: I walked in the mountains and joked with all the ranchers, she got really drunk and fire danced. “They said that I was the coolest girl in the club.” I am sure she was. But now that we are back together our performance is coming out worse than ever.

Erik the Pilot advised me to tell her how I feel, he said that I should talk about what is bothering me. I usually talk things out with my feet, but this time I thought that I would it a chance. So I talked.

And I was told an entire flood of what is wrong with me. My own criticisms were raised to the tenth power as they fell right back upon my head. I was knocked right down upon my face. I opened the gate upon a bull that the best of matadors could not dodged. Mira the Bull cut through me like a leper through a crowd.

There was nothing else for me to do, but put a smile on my face and retreat.

“Lets just have fun, lets just have fun,” my retreat trumpet resounded. Mira scowled. Then we had fun.

I now know that I must keep my mouth shut. Erik the Pilot, I tried your advice, but failed a thousand failures. I cannot fight a woman. I learned this from my father. “Just keep your mouth shut, boy.”

Perhaps this is the key to the drama of romance.

For years this run with Mira was light. It was a good relationship and we were not only lovers but friends. In Central America everything is different. The easy and simple passages have been blocked up with brick walls. I now feel as if I am trying to smash my way through to the other side.

My hands are bruised and my face is beaten. The wall is just getting thicker, but I have a lead on a path.

It goes right out of Costa Rica.

China, India, England, France, Portugal, Gibraltar, Morocco we ran together with the greatest of speed. In Costa Rica our boots have worn out, and we are limping perilously close to the finish line. But wait, I am willing to give it one last try. Lets turn around for a second and get out of Costa Rica. I can’t keep writing these tired posts forever.

Cym the Mystic Poet just left a comment on my Walking on up the Mountain post

“I'm a firm believer that the geography of place, not just people and culture, but the actual physical geography, has a strong influence in shaping culture, how we think, what we think, and who we are.”

I think she is correct.

Out of Costa Rica!

So that is what we are going to do.

And this morning the storm had passed and the birds began singing again.

She gave me a candy heart, and I gave her a hug. Traveling with a girlfriend is the most difficult obstacle that I have ever found on the Open Road. Thieves, beggars, immigration inspectors, crooked shop owners, touts, not even annoying tourist are as difficult to outwit as a girlfriend. Most travelers are lonely old boys walking their own path and theirs alone. This is my usual mode, but Mira came out of nowhere . . . and we stuck together tight.

I can not even offer a travel tip here on how to better travel with a girlfriend other than “keep your mouth shut, boy.”

Now that we are smiling again we have a plan to go down to Panama together then go and work at Copan in Honduras, then El Salvador, Guatemala, Belize, Chiapas, and them up through Mexico to California.

I have never been to California before. I don’t really want to go to California, but it seems as if I am going to have to go back through the USA to get on to another part of the world. The world flight patterns are dictating my route of travel.

Boots or Hearts. A girlfriend that walks with you is hard.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Barva, Costa Rica
February 19, 2008

Walking on up the Mountain

Walking on up the Mountain

I woke up on Sunday morning with the feeling that I needed to move. I still did not want to go to Panama City. I did not want to go to any city. I am a nature boy. I grew up in the sticks of back country USA. I get weird when I am not in the countryside. I begin choosing work over walking. When this happens, I know it is time to split.

So I walked up into the hills and got far, far away from Heredia, San Jose, and all the junk and jive that goes on down below. Once high up a mountain the feces, spite, and pettiness of civilization disappears.

To get to where humanity flourishes you must go up. Up, up, up to the mountains. The higher the altitude the purer the person. I had to refresh myself. Too much time in the cities of Asia and Central America have dulled my senses to the life that flows freely all aroud me. I had become tempered, in a way. Today I struck out to the hills and ended up in the clouds. A cloud forest that reaches high up into the sky above the cities of Costa Rica. I smiled as I climbed, said howdy to all of the smiling ranchers, and summited some volcano, whose name I do not know. But I know that there were clouds on top. And the moss hung down heavy off of the the ever-moist trees, the ground was soft, the rocks slick with some kind of nature slim, and the sky gently rained down a think blanket of misty rain.

I breathed in deep. I felt good. Now it is time to run some romance.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Barva, Costa Rica
February 18, 2008

I Win and 300 Song of the Open Road Posts

I win and 300 Song of the Open Road Posts

I win:

So a friend of mine was searching the internet because she wanted to travel to Monte de la Cruz in Costa Rica and she came upon a webpage that gave her directions on how to get there. She went through the page and took notes. The page had pictures of where she should get off the bus and where to catch the bus. It also had odd directions about walking past cows. When she finished taking notes and got down to the bottom of the page she read the following:

"Wade from Song of the Open Road Travel Blog"

She then realized that she knew the guy that wrote the page.

It was me.

So she jumped up and down and got all excited and came to tell me. I then jumped up and down and got all excited. Vagabond Fieldnotes.com! was used!

This was the page: How to get to Monte de la Cruz

This is also post number 300 on Song of the Open Road.

I thought that I would celebrate it on a victory note.

Thanks to all of you for reading, and, as ever:

Walk Slow,

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 15, 2007

Rest and Relaxation in Costa Rica

Rest and Relaxation in Costa Rica

I put off going to Panama for a couple of days. I need to figure out what is going on with the archaeology project at Copan in Honduras before I go running off. I also need to finish writing an article. So I found a smile and am just sitting in the sun, taking it easy in Costa Rica.

It is not a bad place to take it easy in.

I had to slow down a little bit, get in tune with the time of the tropics. In the tropics everything moves a little slower. I tend to move quickly, so I quickly tire here. The tropical sun is not the place for rash action.

Sit down, rest a while, take my shirt off. Write at leisure and stop thinking about websites, magazine editors are not coming to get me. Vagabond Journey will grow on its own volition. I just need to sit back and watch it all happen.

Take that no good feeling and shove it under something heavy and gross. No need to do anything in the tropics, just watch how the sun shines off of the palm leaves and other pretty things.

I have found my smile again.

It was just there, right there on my face when I woke up this morning. Work, work, work means nothing against a real big smile.

I will just go to Panama next week.

Manana, manana, the mantra of the tropics.

I am all better.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 15, 2008

No Good Feeling Here

No Good Feeling Here

I caught a bus into San Jose today because I was on my to Panama. I arrived in the city and began looking for the Tica Bus station. I had a folded square of paper in my hand that had Torre Mercedes written upon it. The Tica Bus station was two blocks north and one block west of this tower.

But upon arrival in San Jose, after sitting in a slow local bus that stopped every half minute to pick up every straggler a touch too lazy to walk to the nearest bus stop, I realized that I did not feel like searching for some tower. I did not even feel like going to Panama. I walked the streets of San Jose for a few minutes pondering why I did not feel like going to Panama, I bought something to drink, I walked around some more. I could not figure out why I had this feeling. I soon remembered that I need to get an article into a magazine that will pay me fifty dollars for my labor. I need fifty dollars. So instead of finding the Mercedes Tower, the Tica Bus station, and Panama, I found a bus back to Heredia.

I feel odd here in Central America. I almost feel that I am completing some traveler duty to travel to the few countries in this region that I have not traveled to before: Panama, El Salvador, Belize, Guatemala, Mexico. But my mind is elsewhere, lost in another situational frame. I want to go to Africa. I want to get back out into the middle of nowhere. I think of the noman’s lands of China, I think of tramping in Japan, and all the fun of scamming the rail-lines and sleeping outside- I love these two places. I think Costa Rica is getting me down a little, as silly as this sounds. The sun is shining bright, but I am not absorbing the rays. I don’t care for my situation. I do not know why. It seems pretty good to me, but I just am not feeling it: I have been thinking more about getting articles in before deadlines than running wild down to some stinking canal without a care.

I have been feeling a little leashed in all respects. I think this is coming out in what I have been writing here. It seems a little drudgy to me.

I want what I am feeling to come out here, so I write drudge when I feel it, I write uncontainable romance when I feel it. I do not want to be a perfect person. I am not a perfect person. It would make me smile if you read this and thought, “Gee, this Wade guy is not a perfect person, in fact, I think he has a lot of character faults.” I would really smile and maybe even laugh to myself if you said, “I don’t think I would like this guy if I met him in real life... he kind of sucks.”

If you say that then I am free. Asses do not need to please anyone, they do not have to get articles in on time, they can just go about their days being asses.

Maybe I just want to be an ass.

So I erred on the side of base feeling, complimented it with logic, and did not go to Panama today. But I promise myself, when I get that article in tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day, I will buy myself a ticket to Panama and forget about everything for a couple of minutes, or just forget forever.

Although I do not think that I will forget that I want to go to Africa.

Been reading the Chatwin again. I read him as a kid, put him away for a while, and found him again just to realize that he is the same ole Chatwin. Still thinking too much and being interesting. I like a man who talks to himself constantly.

I have the impression that Chatwin did not write for me, but rather wrote everything just to show off to himself.

I show off to myself, too.

I like writers who do not care about me.

But on the other side of this, I have a no good feeling here. I sometimes feel as if I misplaced my smile somewhere. Maybe I left it outside of Costa Rica? I should probably find out.

Maybe I just need to make up a really good joke and laugh about it all the live long day.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Barva, Costa Rica
February 14, 2008

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Speak Badly About the USA

Speak Badly About The USA

I am in Latin America. Many of the people here blame the USA for the perceived state of decay that their countries are in. To a large extent, they are correct. In what seems like an attempt to even up the ante, many people try to force me into conversations in which I am expected to speak badly about my country.

I am from the USA. I have only paid 36 cents of federal tax in my lifetime. I do not waste my time voting. I am not responsible for any action of the US government, past or present. I will not accept any blame, or feel guilty.

I also will not speak badly of my country. Any place in the world within the grasp of governmental control is under the sway of tyranny. I do not believe that there are good or bad governments. But there are ones who have more power and ones that have less. The USA is powerful. The USA exerts that power. Any country, empire, or kingdom with power has done this, it is nothing new. Powerful countries attack those of lesser might. I do not know why, but patterns show me that they do. If Costa Rica was a powerful country, and even had a military (besides that of the USA), I would place a bet that they would be the ones dropping the bombs on Iraq . . . or the USA. Power seems to exists only in its actualization.

Read history, study prehistory. This is the way that it has always been. The Iroquois obliterated the Erie, the Incas most of North Western South America, I do not even have to mention the Aztecs or Mayas. How did the Mapuche gain such a large territory? The gentle Tibetan story is a myth to get money from NGOs. Russia? The Germans decided to try to take over the world, the Romans almost did so, the Chinese are still trying. The British Empire? I do not have to say anything more. The chronicles of Southeast Asian history and prehistory is a patchwork of wars, conquest, and annihilation. The Mogul Empire stretched across much of the eastern world, the Mongols had a field day ravaging Asia.

I refuse to accept any blame for the USA.

Forcing a person to speak badly about their country is rude. I would not try to make a Japanese person apologize for the atrocities their government committed in China over a half century ago. I would not try to make a Brit feel guilty for their heyday of colonialism. I would not make a Chilean apologize for Pinochet. This would be stupid.

It is equally stupid for someone to expect me to speak badly about the USA.

People have no power in their government anywhere. I would think that the people of Latin American would know this better than anyone else. I do not understand why they still try to little dog me, and nip at my heals. I fail to understand why they care so much about my political leanings. I don’t care what politicians they like. They could vote for satan and I would not raise an eyebrow. I simply do not care. I become annoyed when someone tries to make me care. It seems as if every time I meet someone in Latin America I must prove my political un-allegiance. I must demonstrate that I am not a supporter of USA governmental actions, the US sitcoms that people oogle upon all over this planet, or of George Bush.

It is almost like I have to say, “Yes, I am an American, but I am not that kind of an American. I am a cool one who hates my country, culture, and government. I am on your team.”

If I make such a statement I prove that I am worthy to be a friend. If not, I am an imperialist.

I will no longer make such statement. I would rather not have any friends.

I do not even live in the USA. I do not care what the USA does. I do not waste my time thinking that I can change the course of a government, that I can change the tide of human tendency. The pattern of the USA is the pattern that all great powers have followed.

I do not think my country is better than that of anybody else. I do not believe that I am better than anyone by birthright. I too, am bewildered by the fact that USA culture has been imported by countries all around the world. It is not my fault that your sister is “ruining” your culture by obsessively watching DVDs of “Friends.” I do not understand why you want to immigrate to my country.

I call myself an “American” because that is the English word for someone who comes from the USA. I am merely a user of the English language, not its creator. By saying that I am an “American” does not mean that you are not also from the Americas.

I fail to understand why you think that being called an "American" contains so much prestige. Why do you think that I am putting you down by calling myself by the title the English language has given me. I would think that being a Nicaraguan, Ecuadorian, or Chilean would be just as worthy. I refuse to call myself a "United Statesian." This would be stupid.

It is not my fault if your country is not powerful. Chances are, I would not even notice.

Do not nip at my heals. Do not try to put me or my country down because you think it is great. I don't think it is great.

Latin America, you have nothing to prove to me.

As Andy says, "Life is Good."

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Barva, Costa Rica
February 14, 2008

First 200 Visitor Day

First 200 Visitor Day

I was becoming a little down by the lack of growth in my Site Meter reports these past couple of days. I have had my head down working hard on my sites for the past month, and the fruits from my labors were becoming rather dubious and stale. It was to the point that declared that I would not ever look at my Site Meter again! Then I peaked . . . and found that I had my first 200 visitor day yesterday. I smiled.

It feels good when hard work begins to show results. Although 200 visitors in a day is not too many, I know that it is a beginning.

I take my 200 visitors happily.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 14, 2008

Traveling with a Computer Girlfriend

Traveling with a Computer Girlfriend

“Old Faithful,” my big rock of a Dell laptop, has served me well through the toughest stretches of travel these past two years. But I have began to notice something: traveling with a computer makes me a vastly more cautious traveler, as the extent that my activities and travel methods are limited by Old Faithful’s inherently delicate construction.

My computer has become a friend of sorts. I sure enough hang out with it enough to be a friend. “Old Faithful,” is what I call her. And like a friend, I must watch out for her when out on the Road, as:

Old Faithful cannot be out in the rain.

Old Faithful can not be knocked around, kicked, or dropped.

I harbor reservations about sitting on Old Faithful.

I do not like being separated from Old Faithful’s company, so I do not allow her to ride in the steerage of a bus, train, or plane.

I am also a little bit jealous when it comes to other suitors pursuing Old Faithful, so I keep her hidden at all times and only bring her out when there is no one else around.

I miss Old Faithful when we are separated, so I rarely let her wander out of my proximity.

I must be more aware of my travel plans and be sure that I find shelter for Old Faithful as well, as she does not like sleeping outside without a waterproof blanket.

Old Faithful also likes to be warm but does not like excessive heat, or does she like the freezing cold.

I think that Mira is also jealous of my relationship with Old Faithful, so I must sometimes choose between what girlfriend I want hang out with on any given night hehehe.

So traveling down the long, long road with Old Faithful requires a certain amount respect, diligence, care, and, occasionally, cleverness. In the vagabond world it is difficult to control all of the situations that you find yourself in, and traveling with a computer is sometimes a lot of work.

But Harry Franck traveled with a Kodak camera in 1910. I am sure that this was almost the equivalent of traveling with a laptop today. Franck crossed mountain, desert, jungle, storm, and scorch on foot with his Kodak in his shirt pocket or wrapped up in a bundle that he carried under his arm. His camera completed a Vagabond Journey Around the World a little scathed, but undamaged.

Old Faithful takes inspiration from this story.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 13, 2008

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Thinking of Panama

Thinking of Panama

I have three weeks before I begin the archaeology project at Copan in Honduras. The ebb and flow of my relationship with Mira is becoming a little strained. I am a little worn out of Costa Rica. She has commitments here. I don’t. Every morning is beginning with a scold, every night a flicker of an argument. Maybe we need to walk our own paths for a week. Maybe we need to come back together a little fresh. I have also been working far too much here. I have a free internet connection and I am taking full advantage of it. Maybe I am taking too much advantage of it. I flipped Vagabond Journey.com upside down and now it is beginning to resemble a real website. I am worn out from this exertion. Too much time in front of a computer screen makes me a little quirky. Makes me feel a little less human. But I am happy working, though I know that all things can be taken to excess.

I am thinking about going down to Panama, look at the canal, pee in it maybe, then come on back to Costa Rica to meet up with Mira and go to work in Copan. My lungs are feeling a little tight here in Costa Rica. I am growing weary of living inside of a cage. I need to lean back and check out the sky, breathe deep, and make sure that everything is still beautiful. I know it is still beautiful. Thinking of Panama.

Nicknames for foreigners that I have researched and published on Hobo
Traveler.com:

Chile Nickname for Foreigner- Franchute

China Nickname for Foreigner- Laowai

China Nickname for Foreigner- Waiguoren

China Nickname for Foreigner- Houzi and
Laomaozi

China Nickname for Foreigner- Chang Bizi and
Xiongmao

Laos Nickname for Foreigner- Kii Nock and Pome Sii Dang

Thailand Nickname for Foreigner- Farang (Falang)

Spain Nickname for Foreigner- Guiri

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Barva, Costa Rica
February 13, 2008

Like a Rolling Stone

Like a Rolling Stone

Like a rolling stone the Vagabond Journey site has taken off down a long, steep hill. I have the site’s skeleton, its basic structure up now-take a look. I think I like it. Well, for now. Andy is right, websites are very much like traveling: you start moving in one direction just to stop short, look around, and then take off in another. Right now, I like where Vagabond Journey is going.

I have made the basic structure, and have it up and running. At the top of the index page are my coordinates- it says where I am. There is a CIA Factbook map of the country that I am in along with a little note below that says where I am going. Underneath of the travel photos bar there is a sub index of the personal sections of the website. This is where I have pages for my travel articles, Vagabond Fieldnotes travel guide, the Travel Inspiration Well, Countries Traveled, work for magazines and other websites, as well as the section of the site for the Vagabond Journey monthly travel newsletters archive.

Below this index is a map that shows my planned route of travel along with a description of where I am going. This changes often. I really have no idea where I am going.

Below this is the real meat of the site: the travel topics index. This is a photo index of travel related topics that I am interested in. There are sections for travel gear, cheap airfare, archaeology, travel employment, travel photography, travel photographs, travel blogs, tattooing, Old Time Travelers, and many more subjects that may be of interest to the traveler.
I must admit that I need help with this portion of the site. The size and scope of it is far too vast for me to do appropriately alone. At the bottom of all the pages inside of Vagabond Journey.com is a short form for visitors to submit links to their own websites as well as comments on the pages topic. This form is meant to be copied and pasted into the body of an email and sent to me at VagabondSong@gmail.com. Please do not be shy. Help me build this site haha.

Haha, I know that I can not be so presumptuous to think that anybody really cares if I build my silly website or not . . . but it is worth a try. If you have a comment related to a pages topic, please send it in to me. If you have a travel related website, find a page that you would like your link on and send it in with a description of your page. Thanks.

Building websites is hard work. For the past two weeks I have been sitting here with my head down. Now I am just about ready to lift my head up and take a breath of fresh air.

I am dreaming of Africa.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 12, 2008

Fired from Archaeology Job

Fired from Archaeology Job

I just got fired from my archaeology job in Nicaragua. I suspect that the grad student who I was to be working really does not have anything going on. This is my suspicion. Oh well. Mira received this email letting us know that our “help is appreciated but not needed.”
-----------------------------------------------------
The email:

Hey Mira and Wade,

It sounds like things are really working out for you, I'm glad to
hear it. Unfortunately right now
the time frame I am working in is giving me a crunch. I appreciate
that both of you want to help
me, but at this point our different time frames don't seem to be
matching up. Things are going
well for me now and I have all the help that I need. So good luck
with your travels, interviews
and schooling. If you find yourselves in a situation where you need
something feel free to call on
me--even though your help is appreciated, your help isn't needed.
Take care.
------------------------------------------------------------

It seemed a little rudely written, as it was sent to two people who traveled across the world to help her. But I really do not think that much research is going on anyway. We were invited to work on this job six months ago, maybe it is a little sorry that we were dismissed only after we arrived in Central America, and the day before we were about to leave for Nicaragua.

But again, we were notified that she just arrange for a site to work on a few days ago, and that she was not going to get the permit applications into Managua for another two weeks. I think she is correct in assuming that she would not need our help, as it does not seem as if there is anything to help out with. Mira and I came to Central America to work. We do not want to go on a vacation to Nicaragua. We also do not really want to be sitting around a Nicaraguan farm with our nuts in our hands as we sit idle for weeks as the permits are processed.

I just laughed, as this is the great joke of archaeological fieldwork: you never know what is going to happen. Mira took this news a little hard. She was excited about the possibility of getting some archaeology experience in Nicaragua and helping the grad student with her dissertation research. We know the grad student personally, and I think Mira was a little hurt by the tone of the email. I suppose I have grown to be a little more callous about disappointment. After eight seasons of field work, I am a cynical old archaeologist, as I know that absolutely nothing in archaeology is a given. People travel all over the world to work on archaeology sites just to find that there are no sites to be worked on. This is normal.

One wilted possibility just leads to one that is in full bloom

We are still confirmed to begin working at Copan in Honduras at the beginning of March.
Now we have three weeks before going to Honduras that are open for travel. Maybe we will go to Panama, maybe Guatemala. I want to get out of Costa Rica.

Oh well.

Thanks for getting me to Latin America.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Heredia, Costa Rica
February 12, 2008

Traveler Photographs.com * Vagabond Fieldnotes * Vagabond Journey Travel

Trouble at the Boarding House

Trouble at the Boarding House

I took a room in a Costa Rican boarding house that I can stay at whenever I am in Barva. I pay $6 a day for a bed and two huge, delicious Costa Rican meals cooked by a good ol Tica Momma. I am also not charged for the days when I am out traveling. As Mira and I are still arranging our archaeology fieldwork at Copan, we need a temporary base to work from so that we can regularly check emails and receive phone calls. This boarding house option was a great way out of having to pay $20 a night for a crappy hotel room.

The lady who runs this takes care of all of my needs. She cooks for me, does my laundry, tells me jokes, and picks on my because she sometimes does not think that I know what she is talking about.

I like pretending that I do not understand Spanish.

For $6 a day, I can not beat this. It makes up for the $17 I must spend a day to travel around Costa Rica on the weekends.

The boarding house provides a home to three electricity students, a husband, a son, a Tica momma, and a funny lawyer who very proudly says “good morning” to Mira and I. It is a good bunch of people to walk past on the way to my room.

But there are troubles at the boarding house: Inspectors! Yes, the local electricity school that the electricity students study at is sending an inspector over tomorrow morning, to make sure the boarding house meets their strict standards of Spartan living. This is a problem because the electricity students are not permitted to dwell under the same roofs as foreigners. Mira and I are unquestionably foreign.

So Mira and I have to hide-out for the day, cover our tracks, and make sure that the electricity kids are not caught living beneath a roof with unchaste Norteamericanos. There would be big trouble in Barva if we were detected as the rascles who exposed the electricity students to our foreign ways.

These electricity kids are not even aloud to listening to people speaking English in the place that they live.. Tica Momma warned us tonight that we were absolutely prohibited from speaking to the electricity students in English. She said that they could talk to us in English, but we always had use Spanish when we replied. The electricity kids cannot hear foreign language, it is part of their electricity training. Tica Momma does not understand. I do not understand.

The funny thing is that they study English in school.

The inspectors are no big deal. We scram at sun up. We speak in Spanish.

But the electricity school has some other extensive regulations placed upon their student’s living arrangements:

• They are not allowed to watch TV in their rooms.

• They are not allowed to take hot showers. (The electric water heater to our shower has even been disconnected).

• They are not allowed to have boyfriends or girlfriends. They are in their early 20's.
  

• They are prohibited from living with anyone who is neither a family member of the boarding house nor a fellow electricity student.

All in the name of studying electricity.

I think Costa Rican electricity school is odd.

Oh well.

Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
Barva, Costa Rica
February 12, 2008

Traveler Photographs.com * Vagabond Fieldnotes * Vagabond Journey Travel