Veintidós. To the Interior

I needed to venture beyond the safe confines of the Gringo trail.

I had spent Christmas in Utila with a yet more incongruous group than usual and I was getting frustrated that the trip was turning more bar hop than adventure hop. A flamenco dancer from Amsterdam, a grumpy cyclist on his way to Tierra del Fuego, and a couple of sweary university students from Cork were my crowd then, and we gathered nightly in one or other of the two bars which had ‘Pirate’ in the name.

Veintiuno. Alice Part 1 Veintitrés. High Lands
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