San Salvador

San Salvador is a rather ugly city covered in black diesel and petrol fumes, so grimy and sooty that not even torrential tropical rains and earthquakes can shake off grime. Imagine a city that experienced an American commercial boom on a limited budget through the 90s paired with the effects of an incompetent government whose primary interests since the end of the civil war have been to maximize personal economic gains - the impact this has had on the city's infrastructure and public mentality. This is our capital city. A materialistic commercial whorehouse with bad roads, bad traffic and terrible drivers. It is a monster that is slowly but powerfully expanding, engulfing our beautiful Quetzaltepec, completely disregarding and stomping all over its natural beauty and biodiversity.

The trouble is that my grandmother's house is a little oasis at center of it all. Up until recently this area was mostly a residential zone, with steep meandering roads and overhanging trees and bushes. I am told that at one point it was even possible to walk across fields and monte all the way to the mouth of the volcano. But this was way before my time. Today, it is a web of pot-holed roads, offices, and congested traffic, but sitting in my grandmother's garden it is easy to filter out the chaos and focus on the colorful vegetation and exotic fruits and flowers. It is a garden that has remained virtually unchanged over the past 25 years, with the same white, iron-lace garden furniture, strategically positioned and permanently discolored stone cranes and an impeccably kept array of tall wild orchids, hanging orchids, geraniums, flowers of paradise, galan de noche, and countless other flowers I don't know the names of. So when I venture out from my personal Garden of Eden for the daily errand run it becomes particularly frustrating when I find myself stuck in a knot of black-fumed traffic.

My grandmother at one point while driving, looked at me and asked, "Como ves San Salvador?". "Sucio". Polluted like no other. I'm probably experiencing a type of culture shock, which I suppose is understandable but difficult to accept. At least winter is round the corner which means lots of tropical thunderstorms and earthquakes which means cleaner air and rivers and hopefully more environmentally-friendly, political decisions due to seasonal fears. That and I will be completely distracted by the excitement of thunderstorms, earthquakes and the numerous new streams and mini-waterfalls.

30 hours

For the first time EVER, my travel bag is packed a whole day in advance. I don't know if it's the fact that I love my new rucksack, the fact that I'm really quite excited about this trip to El Salvador, general boredom, or a combination of those things. I started selecting and laying out my clothes yesterday. A systematic folding process followed and little piles of carefully selected and counted outfits emerged, all of which were eagerly rolled and stuffed into a 60L orange rucksack.

I think it's a good time to go. I'm blogging about packing of all things and the cats and I have a reached a new level of understanding with each other which means they are quite happy to use me and any part of me (including my face) as a bed, pillow, washbasin, strategic vantage point, fort and full on war-zone. In case you are not familiar with the Dohle cat situation, not that you should be, the two cats hate each other but currently love me. Thus they very often engage in 'en garde' situations with me blissfully slumbering in between completely ignorant of imminent danger. Lots of hissing, growling, scratching and yelling later one is banished to the outer confines of my room while the other is allowed to stay. But enough about cats.

In 30 hours I will start my journey.  

Urban Nautical Adventures

Paddington Basin

pat...pat...pat...

Is the first thing I hear when I wake up in the morning. That and the soft murmur of voices sharing an early morning gossip before heading their separate ways to conduct their daily lives. The first is the sound of joggers on their morning runs, a surprisingly peaceful way to wake up compared to the ...STOMP...STOMP...STOMP of commuters at Paddington station. The stress of commuters bounces off the tall glass buildings and settles into your dreams during the night until you are abruptly awakened by the harsh metallic clang of the footsteps of urban civilization. I am generally ambivalent towards Paddington, but I never want to live there on the canal again.

Morven making breakfast

 Boat life suits me greatly. It's impossible to be stressed out on a boat and as a person who likes to juggle a million things at once this is a great benefit. Unless you are living in Paddington basin of course. Otherwise, it's great. After being gently summoned from the deep recesses of sleep, you fling the curtains, windows and doors open and you're outside. Fellow boaters are probably having breakfast and coffee outside as well, the occasional cat will blink at you vaguely for having interrupted his own private sleep. You learn to ignore non-boating folk and greet your neighbors cheerfully and they smile and nod back contentedly. Back inside you make yourself and your fellow marinero a fresh pot of coffee and breakfast and watch other narrow boats pass you by as they make their way towards new adventures. You're always meeting someone new on a boat, whether it's a neighbor or a tourists staring gawp eyed at you trying to save a flailing boat in a windy thunderstorm.

But back to breakfast. Definitely a cosy affair which requires excellent timing otherwise you end up with burnt toast and coffee paired with hardboiled eggs instead of runny centers. Five steps and you're outside again in the 'dining' area, or a further two steps and a hop and you're on your rooftop garden enjoying the view and sun. 20 minutes of sun and food later and it's time for your day to start, get dressed and go. Close the windows, lock the doors, make sure the mooring ropes are secure and you're set to go. You glance back at the boat you call home and start humming the theme tune of the day. "I've been dreaming of you since I don't know when..."

Hackney

Windhagen

The windy hills of yonder, the sheltered forest, the land where cows are your neighbors and frogs are your friends. I wouldn't call myself a city girl, but I certainly felt like one the first time I was confronted by a moo and a croak in my own backyard. Now three years later, this is the place I like to call home and enjoy exploring.

Take this morning for example, a rather late start to the day but the whole valley was still covered in thick white fog, yet all I wanted to do was jump into the still whiteness and disappear into the forest. It took some time to get out of bed, fed and washed - the cats received their quota of attention for the day as well - and I embarked on a short walk past the fields towards the babbling brook. Each journey is always different no matter how many times I've walked down the same route. There's always a new hidden path to explore, a new shortcut to be found and different farmers to annoy and I always end up trekking up some hill or other. What starts off as an intended 20 minute wander towards the edge of the forest often turns into a 40+ min hike.

I took my camera with me this time. The fog was already clearing but there was still plenty of pretty dew on the ground. You can tell autumn is just round the corner.

Joys of travelling

After a totally groovy and beautifully relaxing - as relaxing as it can be while you're writing your MA thesis - month travelling around London's backwaters on a boat, I started missing nomadic life again. Travelling from place to place, discovering and observing the curious behavior of resident natives, meeting people, drawing and listening to new music. Boat life brought on a wave of mixed feelings toward my already uncertain future, but these were cast aside to enjoy the present. I found myself singing again like I haven't since I was a child, and felt like writing again. All because I was on the move once more. I decided the life for me must be the life of a traveler.

Sure the toilet and shower situation was not ideal, but I quickly discovered ways around this. A flicker of doubt stirred when I was confronted by an enormous mound of possessions I had left at a friend's house, but these were resolved by purchasing a cheap transportable suitcase. It was annoying having to transport my life on foot the weekend that London decided it had had enough of summer and opened up the heavens to welcome torrential rains. It also wasn't terribly comfortable sleeping on friend's floors and couches, but wasn't until a the mother of all dilemmas that I finally remembered: I hate travelling. I had missed my flight.

The two hours prior to a flight are the most intensely stressful regardless of whether you make the flight or not. This is particularly the case if you have fallen out of touch with stress of flying. Neverthelless, everything happens for a reason and I have emerged if just a tiny bit wiser.

Things I learned in the process:

• It is VERY important to check your flight details a day in advance.
• You can pay for as many bags as you like on an easyjet flight, but the sum weight of all bags must not go over 20kg (21kg if you're extra simpática).
• If you have excess baggage it is cheaper  to get it shipped rather than paying the airline for the administrative manpower to process said baggage. These admin positions must be the best paid jobs ever. Furthermore, all airports have such shipping areas, you just have to ask for them. 
• Old ladies at check-in desks will say and agree to virtually anything to get over-inquisitive young whippersnappers away from their counters. "Can I get a refund for my unused baggage allowance?" "Of course!" "Can I get it after the flight?" "Most definitely!" Do I have to do this online?" "Yup!" "Is your website the most deceiving, uninformative, useless website ever?" "Uhu!" thanks. Harassed men at ticket sales desks are much more honest.
• The security metal detectors select people at random regardless of the amount of metal or sharp objects they have on them. You might as well wear whatever you want.
• Lady Gaga's first scent smells exactly like Britney's.

Things I already knew:

• Airport food is ridiculously overpriced and bland
• WHSmith books are ridiculously overpriced
• Perfumes are ridiculously overpriced
• Airport travel is the most annoying and stressful activity ever, yet this is the preferred medium of travel?!
• Departure screens are shameless liars.

So the decision I came to after all of these important life lessons? I am going to buy a boat.