Sun, sea, sand, surf and...saying goodbyes

It's little wonder I had such a good feeling when I arrived in Sayulita. We had such an amazing time there we ended up staying for almost 3 weeks. Lucy, Rick and Isis were happily staying in their own apartment, and had very generously offered for me to stay with them, but knowing Rick and his tendencies I felt it a much better option to find my own place to stay, so I opted to check into a hostel that both Lucy and Rick very highly recommended. I checked myself in to the small, delightful Casa Amistad and was greeted by Connie, the wonderful lady who owns it. A seasoned traveller herself back in the day, Connie built Casa Amistad with the vision of making it as homely as possible, and she certainly achieved that. She even had surf boards that were free to use for her guests. Perfection. The open-air dorm where I had opted to stay, was absolutely gorgeous...it felt like a little princesses palace – all white and airy. There were only 2 other people staying in the 5-bed dorm: Olaf – a lovely long-distance runner from Denmark – and Tracey – a chatty, friendly lady from Canada. It didn't take long at all for me to start feeling completely at home.

One morning, over a leisurely breakfast at one of the delectable eateries in town, Lucy, Rick and I had met a fabulous couple – Brenda and Taisuke – and their gorgeous 5 year old son, Nayu. I felt an instant connection with Brenda, and after a wonderfully geeky music chat with Taisuke, I knew I had just made 2 new friends for life. We formed a little tribe - enjoying days on the beach together, surfing, tanning and basking in each other's company. Unlike San Blas, Sayulita is very tourist-oriented. There seemed to be a couple of spots that had good dancing potential, and as Friday night approached, I felt that good old familiar urge to let-loose on the dance floor. Since Rick was around - and had quite a lot of babysitting debt to pay - Brenda, Lucy and I excitedly colluded to plan a girl's night out. We made it out, but it appeared Friday was not the happening night in Sayulita town. The parties we went to were considerably lacking in both people and vibe so we decided to call it a night and revisit our partying plans on Saturday – which was, we were promised, the party night. By the time Saturday night rolled around, and after a deeply relaxing yoga class, both Lucy and Brenda were not wearing their party heads. My legs were still desperate for a dance, so I decided to head out solo. Upon hearing about my plans, lovely Olaf offered to come with me – so off we went, to the plaza, in search of the party. We enjoyed a couple of margaritas at the infamous tequila bar, then headed to Buddha Mar, where apparently, the party was at.

The familiar sound of the booming 4-4 kick drum oozed out of the club, and my legs went on auto-bounce. I made a spot for myself on the dance floor and joyfully started dancing. Olaf, not so much a party-goer, decided to stay close to the bar, and chatted to friends of his that he had found. He introduced me to one, Omar – an anthropologist who teaches Spanish, and 'click'...we were off, chatting away to one another with increasing interest. After he had caught up with his friends, Olaf decided to head home and I stayed out with the ever-alluring Omar. He told me he and his house mate are registered as hosts on a website called Couchsurfing.com, and casually offered for me to stay at his place if I wanted to save a bit of money on accommodation. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, couchsurfing.com is a genius website where people offer their houses as free places to stay for travellers who are visiting their country – and the said travellers can search the site for appropriate places to stay). My instincts told me to go for it, so the following day I said goodbye to my friends at Casa Amistad and readied myself to move in with Omar. 

In the meantime, Rick had decided that once again he had had his fill of being a father and decided to flee Sayulita, to the desert, in search of himself, the meaning of life, his true purpose...etc etc etc. By now, Lucy knew the situation between them well enough to be able to enjoy their time together without any expectation of Rick being anything close to a full-time father, so although she felt nothing less than abject rage at once again being confronted with the delusional wasteland of his unfettered narcissism, she was overall relieved to reclaim her freedom once more. As things transpired, he had paid for a rather swish apartment upfront for a month, so Lucy and Isis were able to enjoy their freshly-returned space in relative luxury.

Omar and I shared an intense connection – and we had a lot of fun together (yes, I am  allowing you to read between the lines here). He arranged for Lucy, Isis and I to enjoy a wonderful day out on his friend's catamaran sail boat. We ventured to some nearby islands and gazed in innocent child-like awe as hump-backed whales breached only meters from the boat. It was an utterly divine day out – I've always wanted to own a boat – that wonderful day truly instilled within me a fresh determination to have my own sail boat for me to enjoy with all of my loved ones. The rest of my days in Sayulita were truly joyous. Lucy, Isis and I took a road trip with Brenda and Nayu to a nearby beach where we experienced the awesomeness of stand-up paddling, which is tremendous fun – and a great work-out! Lazy afternoons were spent with Omar, I caught up with my friends from Casa Amistad...and of course made sure I excelled in lolling around on the beach with Lucy and Isis. As our time in this idyllic little town started drawing to an end, both Lucy and I started having some serious 'should I stay or should I go' moments. We toyed with the idea of cancelling our forward travel arrangements in favour of staying in Sayulita a week longer – even on the eve of our departure we were still undecided. After a lengthy discussion, Lucy and I decided to remain in the flow and resolved to take our flights south to Oaxaca state the next morning.

It was so hard to say goodbye to all the wonderful people we had been blessed with meeting in Sayulita: Brenda, Taisuke amazing little Nayu...and of course the delicious Omar. As the taxi sped along the highway Lucy and I lamented our departure. To console ourselves we set our sights on the next phase of our adventure: we had little over a week left of our epic journey – and there was still so much we wanted to see. We hot-footed it south, to the tropical shores of Mazunte and Zipolite – places that we had heard much about and were eager to see. We tried to check into a hostel in Mazunte, but they were fully booked – we toyed with the idea of searching for another one, but we both felt mysteriously drawn to assess the accommodation situation in the neighbouring smaller town of San Agustinillo – literally 2 minutes south of Mazunte. As it transpired, we found ourselves a gorgeous little guest house, right on the edge of San Agustinillo, owned by a gorgeous, warm and welcoming young couple. It seems the hands of fate delivered us to the place that was absolutely perfect for us. Mazunte was fun, hip and happening, the Pacific waves were slightly tamer than down the beach in San Augustinillo – and it had some great little eateries – and a wonderful cosmetic shop that had organic, natural products made by the local women. Zipolite was livlier – the waters were not good for swimming due to the strong undertow current...and...it seemed to be slightly over-run by hippies who seemed as though they had seen better days. San Agustinillo, nestled quietly in between Mazunte and Zipolite, whilst not exactly brimming with inspirational restaurants, had by far the best beach. It was practically deserted, and the friendly owners of the more expensive beach-side cabanas were more than happy to allow us to luxuriate in their hammocks while we soaked up the sun. They even went as far as filling up their paddling pool so Isis could splash around in it as the waves on this beach were a little too big for her. Lucy and I, however enjoyed some truly thrilling dalliances with the great Pacific waves on this beach. Not so good for surfing as they break very close to the shore, but absolutely exhilarating to swim in! Traversing the 6-foot breakers was hard work – and you just had to surrender to being totally pummled by the mighty waves until you eventually emerged on the other side of them. Then, we would gleefully enjoy swimming along the tops of the great waves, getting swept along by their great power, and gasp at the awesome sea-perspective side view of the waves breaking onto the shore. Swimming in these waves you really felt the power of the mighty Pacific. It was invigorating, exhilarating and humbling all at the same time. I've totally fallen in love with this ocean – it almost broke my heart to say goodbye to her. I could wile away endless hours gazing out at her rolling, powerful waves. But time waits for no one, and our days in Mexico were soon drawing to an end. We had to get back to Guatemala to catch our flights back to London, and we were still many, many miles away.

Before we left Mexico, Lucy and I were determined to see the pretty town of San Cristobal De Las Casas. We endured a hard 12-hour overnight bus ride to get there, and we had to leave at 6:30am the following morning to catch our bus to Guatemala, so despite being totally exhausted, we pushed on through and explored. We enjoyed taking in the sights and sounds of this very picturesque colonial town – and stocked up on nutrition at a wonderful organic vegetarian restaurant. At 6:30am the following morning, the little collectivo shuttle bus arrived at our hotel to take us to Guatemala. 14 hours and 2 bus changes later, we arrived in beautiful Antigua – our final stop before we caught our flights home. It was a gruelling couple of days of travelling, we were battered, but we had done it – we'd made it back to Guatemala. We once again managed to manifest gold out of thin air, and stayed in a beautiful $50 a night hotel for less than half price. It wasn't long before we befriended the wonderful owner, Luis. Originally a carpenter by trade, he opened La Posada San Sabastien 25 years ago, and around this time he also began collecting and restoring antiques. His beautiful small boutique hotel is brimming with fascinating trinkets and elegant antique furniture – including an enormous 100 year old xylophone. If you ever happen to find yourself in Antigua do let me know and I'll put you in touch with our lovely friend for you to stay at his delightful hotel. Antigua itself is a truly beautiful little city, and is often referred to as the jewel of Guatemala. Its cobbled streets and elegant colonial architecture make it a pleasure to amble around, the people here are extremely warm and friendly, there are delicious restaurants and cafes a-plenty – and a distinct love of the artesan lends the city a truly elegant, creative touch. Being a small city that is surrounded by volcanoes, you still feel connected to nature in a very powerful way, and the pretty, unobtrusive low-rise architecture means a birds-eye view of the city is very easily achievable from one of the many flower-trimmed roof-top terraces. We wished we had more time to spend here.

On the day of our departure, Luis himself very kindly drove us to the airport. “What an absolutely wonderful end to our amazing trip” Lucy and I both thought. We bid farewell to our new friend, and made our way into the airport with heavy hearts. It seemed the universe echoed back our reluctance to leave...we had a problem at check-in. We were due to fly from Guatemala to Panama, then Panama to Madrid, and finally Madrid to London with Iberia. We just assumed that the entire journey would be operated by Iberia, but no...it seems Iberia contract out flights to a third party airline in order to fly people to close-by Central American destinations so that Iberia can still fly passengers to Europe - and make a profit out of them. In our case we were being flown from Guatemala City to Panama with Copa Airways, in order to then be flown back to Europe with Iberia. But here's the thing...Iberia consistently fails to tell Copa about these passengers, and on a daily basis they have to deal with Iberia passengers who have paid for a ticket, but cannot fit onto the Copa flight. Today we were those passengers. Iberia had not told Copa that we were due to be on their flight from Guatemala City to Panama, and the flight was fully booked. Our other option was to wait 6 hours for an Iberian flight that would take us directly to Madrid from Guatemala, but that was also fully booked. And Iberia were due to go on strike the next day, so we were now potentially looking at not being able to leave until 6th March. Oh dear. Now I am not the sort of person who has much tolerance for such disgusting treatment of customers. Lucy even less so, so...as you can imagine, all hell broke loose at the check-in counter. Deep down of course, neither of us were particularly that bothered as to whether or not we actually got on the flight...if we didn't, then to us it was an obvious sign that we should stay, but...that's not the point. Iberia should not be permitted to treat its customers this way. The Copa staff went out of their way to get us on the flight. Five minutes before the check-out desk was due to close, there were still 2 passengers who had not arrived. I felt like I was in the middle of an action-movie: swarms of Copa staff crowded around the check-in desk as they did what they could to get us onto that flight. They decided to close the check-in desk five minutes early so we could have the unclaimed seats. What angels the Copa staff are for having to deal with such horrific administration on a daily basis. Needless to say, Iberia will be receiving a highly expressive letter of complaint from both Lucy and I. If you can help it, avoid flying with them at all costs – they are terrible – on all accounts.

And so our epic Central American journey drew to an end. What an incredible three months it has been. This trip truly surpassed all imagination. It has seen me grow in so many ways, in such a short space of time. I have developed a deep, deep love for Latin America. It's energy, vibrancy and beauty are hard to resist. Lucy and I are already plotting our return...but next time we're going to travel properly – in our own vehicle. A full-scale road trip around the Americas has been discussed on more than one occasion throughout the duration of our trip. Don't be surprise if, in a couple of years, I decide to disappear off again with Lucy and Isis in a 4x4 to take a leisurely drive around the land across the Atlantic! But for now it's time for me to embrace London, focus on my career – and really start to make those dreams manifest...

Colourful artisan treats on sale on market day in Sayulita

Pretty little Sayulita

Sayulita sunset

Sayulita...paradise found

Having some sail-boat fun with Isis

Watching whales breaching so close truly is something other-worldly

Our beloved beach in San Augustinillo

Paying homage to the majestic waves of our beloved Pacific

My sisters of journeying

The streets of San Cristobal

Pretty, buzzing San Cristobal

Ladies weaving in Antigua

Antigua

The pretty central park of Antigua

It's the 100 year-old antique xylophone!

One of the many beautiful little courtyards that could be found in the doorways of Antigua

A rooftop view of pretty Antigua and its surrounding volcanos

Meeting the Pacific & falling in love...with surfing

Our days in El Fuerte were mostly spent luxuriating, indulging in 5 star treatment...and eating lots of fish. We also took a boat trip down the perfectly free and flowing El Fuerte river, which was absolutely lovely. Boat trips always remind me of how much I'd love to own a boat. We saw a variety of birds – osprey, black hawk, kingfisher, heron...all beautiful. The trip culminated in us paying a visit to some ancient Mayo (not to be confused with Maya) petroglyphs that told in picture form the story of creation as the Mayo perceived it – it's amazing how these ancient carvings are still in tact. I'm always a little dubious as to who to actually believe when it comes down to deciphering exactly what ancient carvings mean. Unless the information comes from the ancestors of the people who made them, I can't help but feel that it would get corrupted, and even then there's still a margin for information-juggling. Despite our guide being of Mayo origin, he himself did not know what the carvings meant – that knowledge had been lost a long time ago. He had obtained their meaning from modern archaeologists, who, as history has told, aren't always accurate. Nevertheless, scepticism aside, it was mesmerizing to stand in front such ancient relics – to be shown the stone in which the heart of the sacrificial goat would have been placed, and the channel through which the goat's blood would have flowed. The Mayo also have an incredible knowledge of herbs and plants. As we walked along the path  our guide pointed out many indigenous plants – and the many uses the Mayo had for each of them – from weaning babies off breast feeding, to making hair brushes. Incredible.

Unbeknownst to us, our lovely hotel was built around the original house of Don Alejandro de la Vega – the father of Zorro. Yes, it appears the legend is actually true. There was a little hacienda at the end of the dining room – and this was the house that Don Alejandro was born in. The story of his family was written on one of the walls of the hotel, and every night we stayed there, at 7 o'clock in the evening, Zorro would appear, dressed in black, brandishing his sword, to re-tell the tale of his family. He'd then sing songs, and make the women blush by offering them the key to his room. Little Isis didn't really know what to make of him – Lucy & I loved every second of it as we sipped on our glasses of Bailey's over ice. It's not everyday you get to meet El Zorro!

From El Fuerte we headed southwest, towards the coast, to the seaside city of Mazatlan. We arrived just as the sun was setting...we kept glimpsing its golden glow in between the buildings on the ride to our hotel. This was the first time I was going to see the Pacific Ocean – and I was clapping my hands with glee in the back of the taxi – much to the amusement of little Isis. We checked into the hotel, then excitedly made a beeline for the seafront to greet the ocean. It's a funny phenomena – in reality the world's oceans are one and the same water, but each one I've visited has an energy that's very particular to it. The Pacific has a wonderful, vast feel to it (probably because it is absolutely huge). Mazatlan itself is buzzing, vibrant – and full of delicious sea food. It's a gorgeous little city – the post-colonial architecture really lends it a charismatic European feel. Mexicans are tremendously warm and friendly, and here in Mazatlan they seemed even more so. Upon taking a little afternoon stroll along one of the beachfront streets, I had several people  approach me and start talking to me, from all walks of life, of all ages. A couple of fishermen began talking to me, and gifted me a delicious oyster, fresh from the sea. That evening, Lucy and I sat on the beach to watch the sun set – and it was perfect. Not a cloud in the sky, we watched as the big, bright, orange sun dip beneath the horizon of the Pacific Ocean. 

The city has a wonderful artsy feel to it too – the Plazuela Machado – one of the squares, is decidedly artistic, containing galleries, the theatre, boutique shops, a dance studio, and cosy brasserie-style restaurants and cafes. One morning we had breakfast to the distant sound of a ballet class taking place in one of the buildings opposite the restaurant...the tinkering sound of the piano faintly and delicately filling the square. At night, the Plazuela is softly lit and becomes a hive of buzzing activity as the restaurants start to fill out. Market stalls line the square selling tasteful trinkets, souvenirs and pretty clothes. 
Lucy and I took Isis on a little boat trip to one of Mazatlan's close by islands, Isla De La Piedra, where we more or less had the beautiful, long, sandy beach to ourselves. A few little restaurants lined the beach, their simple wooden structures and thatched roofs sheltered by the abundance of coconut groves that bordered the beach. We indulged in some amazingly tasty barbecued fish...then decided to hire a quad-bike and take Isis on a little adventure. I sped us (safely) along the beach, the wind rushing through our hair...it seemed to go on and on forever...and past a certain point, there wasn't a single soul or building in site. It really was quite splendid.

We loved Mazatlan (especially the food on offer) but we were both eager to get some proper beach time in – and to learn to surf. We boarded the bus to the sleepy little fishing village of San Blas and quickly took up residence in a wonky rustic little beach-side hut. I was tremendously excited as the day of our first surf lesson dawned. Our surf instructor, Guillermo, was utterly lovely. “The first thing you need to learn is how to stand up on your board”. He laid the board on the sand and had me practice jumping from laying on my front to standing sideways on the board, with my feet wide apart. After a few goes he was happy and we went into the sea. Now standing up onto a board when it's in sand and standing up onto a board when it's in water rushing along a wave, are two very different sensations. Needless to say, my first few attempts at standing up almost immediately resulted in me simultaneously flying off the board, but, probably thanks to yoga, by the end of my first lesson I was successfully surfing the waves of the Pacific Ocean. What a thrill it is. There is something utterly amazing about the sensations of surfing. To be at one with the waves, to have that perspective of the waves, to have to sit and wait...patiently...for the right wave. One evening I surfed to the back drop of the setting sun. I love it – and I'm hooked. Surfing is something I'm definitely going to continue when I get back home.

The beach here in San Blas is pretty, but rugged: the sand is golden brown rather than pristine white – and there are a lot of sand flies and mosquitoes. It doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is: a fishing village that has good surf for beginners. It doesn't particularly pander to the tourist trade and it doesn't put on any airs or graces. I really liked it here – it's rough around the edges, but the people are wonderful and its so safe you can leave a bicycle unlocked anywhere in town. But...despite mosquito nets and much Mosi-Guard, poor little Isis got bitten pretty badly, as did Lucy...so after a few days she felt she wanted to move on. I wasn't in any particular rush to leave San Blas – the surf camp where we were staying have free bicycles that guests can use, so I was loving being able to potter around the super safe town on a bike. Plus I'd become good friends with Guillermo (you have quite a lot of time to chat whilst you wait for the right waves), and it just didn't seem right to rush off so quickly. Rick had actually come to San Blas to see Isis, and things between he and Lucy seemed, for now, to be good, so Lucy decided to head to the nearby town of Sayulita with he and Isis, and I decided to stay put for a few days. 

I trusted the new friend I had made in Guillermo, so when one day he offered to take me on a trip to see a nearby waterfall, I very gratefully accepted. I had heard about it and was very eager to go – it was apparently very beautiful, but hard to get to as it was literally in the middle of nowhere – which also meant it was virtually unvisited. Guillermo did warn me that getting there would be ok, but getting back may be a bit of a problem. Still, with faith, we decided to give it a go. For the sake of ease, we took a 30 minute taxi ride to the closest village of Cura, up into the mountains that hazily rise up in the distance of the eastern side of the beach. It was a gorgeous ride, through lush jungle, with a seaside view most of the way. The taxi dropped us off in Cura – the closest point we could get to by car. Next was a 40-minute walk through mango plantations and down a mountain side, to the waterfall. It was hot, I was sweating everywhere, but I was so excited the heat didn't phase me. Soon enough, we could hear the waterfall in the distance – we were getting close. We approached the mountain pathway that led down to the waterfall – a quick climb up some rocks gave us the most breathtaking bird's-eye-view of the beautiful waterfall. We quickly navigated our way down the pathway. The little cove where the waterfall was snuggled in was nothing short of magical – I felt like I'd just wondered into a fairytale. The water from the fall had formed a beautiful circular lagoon of emerald green water and the trees that surrounded it were beautifully tropical, with twisting, turning trunks and lush green foliage. Straight away I jumped into the lagoon – it was freezing cold – the temperature literally took my breath away. I swam right up to the waterfall and let it beat down on my back whilst I held on to the rocks behind it. It was so perfectly beautiful. We enjoyed the falls for a couple of hours, but we were both conscious about the potentially challenging journey back to San Blas, so we bid farewell to the fairytale falls with plenty of daylight hours left. It took us 5 hours to get back to San Blas. 3 hitched rides on the back on pick-up trucks, a bus ride, and half an hour of having to sprint along a road eventually saw us back there, in the dark of night, gnarled by mosquitoes, but thankfully in one piece, and absolutely shattered. It was so worth it.

The following day was a very special day for the town of San Blas – it was the feast of the saint of the town – and was part of the reason why I had decided to stay. What an experience it was. The statue of the saint San Blas gets carried from the church to the marina, accompanied by a full Mexican brass band, and put on one of the big fishing boats. The boat then sets sail to a solitary sacred white rock off the coast of San Blas, to greet the statue of the Virgin Mary that sits upon it. All of the little fishing boats in the marina (and there are a lot of them) accompany the big boat to the rock. It just so happens that Guillermo's sister, Alejandra, is married to a fisherman, Ivan, who owns a boat. Seeing my excitement when he was telling me about the festival, Guillermo took it upon himself to ask Alejandra if it would be ok for us all to go out on Ivan's boat to accompany San Blas on his voyage to greet Mary. It was! We cycled over to their house where I met her, Ivan, and their 3 adorable children. We walked together to the marina and boarded the little boat – beers and snacks to hand. 

We sailed out to the harbour where the big boat was docked, and awaited the arrival of San Blas. More little fishing boats were gathering in the water – some decorated with tinsel, balloons and bunting – all of them brimming with people who were eating, drinking – and getting merry...Mexican style. The statue of San Blas arrived, accompanied by his brass band, and was placed onto the big boat. We set sail, Ivan purposefully remaining as close as he could to the big boat. The other little fishing boats grew in number until all I could see behind us were fishing boats. It was wonderful. We sailed past the beach where I surf every day, to the white rock that I always see in the distance. Looking onto the town of San Blas from out at sea makes you realise how beautiful it is. Mountains rise up on the southern side, untamed jungle sprawls out to the northern side. It's long, sandy palm-fringed beaches looked paradisical. We received blessings from the priest, then bumpily sped off westwards, for a fishing-boat joy ride through the waters that surround the jungle before heading back into the marina. That night the plaza was brimming with people, all dressed in their best, looking fabulous. It was totally buzzing. After a performance from the brass band, the firework display was commenced. Whistling Catherine wheels span with pretty multi-coloured designs, their sparks making people screech with glee. I felt so lucky to have had the opportunity to be part of it all.

I had heard from Lucy that Sayulita was amazing, so I decided to bid farewell to San Blas and head further south down the Pacific Coast. On my last night in San Blas, Guillermo invited me to have dinner at his sister's house with her family. It was lovely to see them all again. She cooked a delicious fish fillet and Ivan had prepared a fresh ceviche – a raw fish salad...which was utterly divine. The homes of the people of San Blas are simple – and far from luxurious. Alejandra and Ivan live in a small, one-storey house with a concrete floor. They all sleep in the same room and have few creature comforts. But still they are happy, generous – totally willing to open their home and extend their welcome to a complete stranger. Again I felt my life being put into perspective. It made me realise how lucky I am, how much I have, how much we, who live in the West, all have. Yet another reminder to me to never take what I have for granted – to be grateful for everything I have, and to use the abundant possibilities that my life has to offer for the benefit of all.

I felt excited to see what Sayulita had to offer, and as I stepped off the bus and walked into the town I had a great feeling. “I think I'm going to really like it here”, I thought to myself. This place is absolutely gorgeous. The town is pretty, dainty, and very neatly organised, built totally around the coast. Even when you're on the beach, you're only a 2-minute walk from the central plaza, where there are a plethora of great eateries, pretty little shops, and market stalls. Everything is at your finger tips here – there are organic shops, great juice bars, plenty of delicious street food vendors, pharmacies that sell 100% natural, organic toiletries, a plethora of yoga studios – and most importantly – beautiful beaches that have great waves for surfing (which is now, of course, an essential requirement!) You can sit on the main beach, which is busy with surfers and sunbathers, or take a 30-minute walk north to one of the more secluded beaches, where you can have the coastline virtually to yourself. The Lonely Planet disappointingly belittles this wonderful little town, but Lucy and I absolutely love it here. It has a wonderful energy, the people here are beautiful...there's sun, sea, surf, yoga, organic food, green smoothies, a weekly farmer's market, jungle – and inspiring new friends...we're definitely not in any rush to leave. Good job we didn't listen to the Loney Planet. I think a Liz and Lucy Guide To The World needs to be written...

The perfectly free & flowing river El Fuerte

The history of Zorro

Our little piece of 5-star luxury at El Fuerte

El Zorro!

The pretty seaside city of Mazatlan

Mazatlan has a distinctly colonial feel to it

A perfect Pacific sunset

Adventures of a quad-kind...on our own deserted tropical beach...

Living it up in our little rustic beach-hut in San Blas

The beach at San Blas...where my love affair with surfing began...

The beautiful fairy-tale falls of Cura

Out at sea accompanying the statue of San Blas to the sacred rock

The sacred rock to which San Blas was sailed to greet the statue of the Virgin Mary

Fiesta time in San Blas!

The Copper Canyon

We spent just over a week on the paradisical shores of Tulum beach, resting, basking in the sunshine and having fun doing absolutely nothing. “Embracing the void” is how we liked to phrase it. Over the course of the week, our few remaining friends from the pilgrimage left to return home. On the eve of their departure we did one final ceremony with Don Manuel – this time with plant medicine. The medicine was very strong and the ceremony was intense. During medicine ceremonies it's often common to purge – and purge is exactly what I did. A lot. At one point it literally felt like I was purging a small demon – the feeling was so intense. After intensity of the medicine had calmed for everyone in the group we all began singing the shamanic songs that had by now grown to be so familiar. I joined in. I felt amazing, so at peace, so free. Don Manuel invited us to sing any songs we wanted, and I started singing one of my favourite songs, Summertime. After I had finished Don Manuel started chanting “another, another”. His words filled my heart with confidence and gratitude and, with a smile on my face, I began to sing “You've Got The Love” again. I love this new voice I've found. I can't wait to get home and record it! The ceremony lasted all night and as dawn began breaking, some of us ventured out onto the beach to greet the rising sun. The group shared a fruit breakfast together and then the ceremony was closed. Despite having had a very minimal amount of sleep, I felt so alive, so shiney. Plant medicine ceremonies are gruelling, but so worth all the hard work!

Our remaining last few days in Tulum were spent with Don Manuel and his angelic wife Annetta. It really was such a pleasure to have a little space and time to sit and talk with them alone. Lucy and I really have grown to love them – spending the past month with them really has been such a humbling honour. So many lessons learnt, so much growth done. I think I've grown more in a month with them than I did in 6 months in India. It really has been one of the most epic months of my life. I feel like a brand new person – as though I'm finally free of all the things that have been holding me back for so long. This is the beginning of the next episode of my life. And that sentence contains so many different meanings for me. Over the course of our travels, Lucy and I have made peace with the fact that we are no longer young girls. In fact we've more than made peace with it...we've totally embraced the powerful goddess that is womanhood, happy to bid farewell to our 'spring chicken' days and step into our empowered maturity. For sure, we'll always be fun-loving cheeky mavericks who are always up for a good time, but our attitudes to life have changed. We can both feel our power growing daily, and our plans for the future are huge! They weren't lying when they said that your 30's rock.

Aside from the tremendous amount of healing that Don Manuel has facilitated, it has also been fascinating listening to his talks. After one ceremony he explained to us that the Mayans have often been portrayed as a violent race, performing human sacrifice and living a dark existence. But this is totally untrue. The Mayans were a peaceful, highly intelligent race, who did not partake in such practices. Rather, it was the Aztecs who, despite warnings from their elders, regularly made human and animal sacrifices. Their elders predicted that if they did not cease such disrespect for life, dark times would befall them. Then the Spanish arrived. The Aztecs defeated Cortez not once, but three times. The only reason he was not killed was because the elders forbade it. They told him to go home, but he had no home to go to, so he stayed...and then more Europeans arrived, bringing with them the plague, and wiped out the Aztec people. The Mayans, with their mastery of mathematics and astrology, had predicted all of this with perfect accuracy, and had abandoned their cities to take refuge in the mountains long before the Aztecs – or the plague – could reach them. They don't teach that in history classes do they? One of the living Mayan elders has the entire history of the Americas documented and kept safe, ready to be released when the time is right. This is just one of the fascinating pieces of history we have been told over the course of the past month. Other talks have covered the history of Christianity and how the religion became corrupted after the death of Christ. Don Manuel truly is a fountain of forgotten (or hidden) knowledge. 

Lucy and I waved goodbye to beautiful beachy Tulum to step on a plane to northwestern Mexico – to Chihuahua. At an elevation of around 1,440 meters, we were expecting it to be fresher up in Chihuahua than it had been down on the beach, but, as we stepped off the plane in our flip-flops, the chill in the air took our breath away. It was freezing. I'm talking proper January cold. We made a dash for the toilets to put our layers on...thank goodness for my leg-warmers! I wrapped my pashmina around myself and some very lovely helpful people ushered us quickly into a taxi. We giggled in the back of the taxi at how shockingly cold it was, and how ineptly we were dressed – the driver said it was the coldest it's ever been here. The following day we made a beeline for the shops to obtain much-needed layers. And what do we find? A plethora of utterly amazing shops at bargain prices (I'm talking a fraction of the price of Primark). Yes, we went on a bit of a shopping spree. Lucy bought 30 pieces of clothing for £130. That's how cheap it is. I didn't go quite as mad, but certainly indulged a little. If you ever come to Mexico, go to Chihuahua for some shopping!

Luckily for our luggage allowances we only spent 2 nights in Chihuahua. We were itching to get ourselves to Creel to behold the mighty Copper Canyon. The landscape here is like a scene fresh from a Western movie. The land is dusty and golden coloured, and is scattered with huge speckled boulders. Dramatic snowy mountains rise up from the horizon. The air is fresh, dry and cold. We took a trip to the Valle de las Ranas y los Hongos (Valley of the Frogs & Mushrooms) – named after its bewildering natural rock formations that look like...giant frogs and mushrooms. We then drove on to the Valle de los Monjes (Valley of the Monks) to behold the spectacular enormous vertical rock formations that on the one hand could look like monks standing to attention...or erect penises...depending on the inclination of your mind. Whether penises or monks, these rocks really were something. Our guide led us behind some of the huge rocks, through a route that allowed us to scale to the very top of them. The view from the top of these rocks was utterly splendid. We could see above the other vertical rocks that surrounded us – and beyond us in the distance rose the snowy, rocky mountains. The only thing you could here up there was the wind (interspersed with little Isis having a mini-tantrum over the fact that she wasn't allowed to walk to the edge of the rocks to fulfil her desire for thrill-seeking. She really is a fearless force of nature).

We then drove on to see the Cusarare waterfalls. The sun was now setting and by the time we approached the falls, dusk was beginning to paint the landscape with its cool purple and blue-tinged hues. In this light, the waterfall looked positively mystical. Parts of it had been frozen in motion and the running river at the foot of the falls was frozen and snow-covered. The rocks from the river bed rose up out of the snow, their dark grey colour even more accentuated by the pure white of the snow. It felt like we were walking into the Ice Queen's palace. It was totally enchanting. I've never seen a waterfall that's been frozen in action. I'll never forget how beautiful it was. Walking back through the forest, night began to fall – the last remnants of the dusky sunlight barely lighting the way for us. It felt so magical wondering through the icy forest in the early hours of the night – the moon above us shone with a pink halo above the lightly clouded sky and we could just about make out the patches of ice on the floor beneath our feet.

Around 60,000 Native American people still live in this region, called the Raramuri – which means 'those who run fast'. They are one of the most traditional indigenous people in Mexico and have inhabited this region for almost 10,000 years. Traditionally, the Raramuri hunted by chasing down and exhausting deer. Today, the Raramuri Indians live in caves and small shacks scattered around the mountains of the canyons, set apart from the towns. They have very little material wealth, believing that the less you need to survive the better. Their knowledge of plants and herbs is exquisite and they survive from what Mother Earth provides for them. Despite their ability to hold on to their identity through thick and thin, health problems and high rates of infant mortality trouble these people. Their children are married off as teenagers and upon encountering them you do not get a sense of happiness from them at all. It's easy to resume a default position and blame the Europeans for desecrating the native people's lives - it does seem that these days the Raramuri appear to be outsiders in their own land, but...upon adopting a different perspective, one could observe that the oppression of these people may come from within the tribes themselves. It's almost as if their insistence on grasping on to their traditions keeps them locked in a cycle of...dare I say...ignorance that does not serve a greater evolution. In contrast to the Maya, it appears that in some respects, the traditions of the Raramuri keep them locked in a state of stagnation. Whereas the Maya, whilst keeping their traditions, have synthesized the best of the ancient and the modern, thereby enabling them to integrate with other people and live happy, healthy lives.

The canyon itself covers a region that's four times the size of the Grand Canyon. Around 25 million years old, the breathtaking mountains were formed from 10 million years of volcanic activity. The canyon itself was created when the Earth's tectonic plates started to move, tearing apart the volcanic rock and forming the majestic mountains and dramatic ridges. The landscape here looks epically prehistoric. The volcanic rock is rich in copper, gold and silver, powdering the mountains with different shades of copper, gold, red, yellow and purple. Enormous organ-pipe cacti are scattered up the mountainsides, but set against the majestic mountains, they look like tiny little leaves. Up high at the top of the canyon, sitting on the edge of one of the ridges one can hear the true sound of silence, broken only by the faint screech of an eagle circling in the cloudless azure sky. We took a drive down the winding dirt-roads from Creel to the little riverside village of Batopilas, nestled at the bottom of the canyon which really gave us a feel for the canyon. We had been warned that the hair-pin bends and bumpy roads were not for the faint-hearted...but apart from the slight inconvenience of having to stop and wait a while because of some road-works, Lucy and I really didn't see what all the fuss was about. I've been on much scarier roads driving through the Alps down to Italy! Maybe we're just too hardcore for our own good!

Batopilas is a gorgeous, sleepy little village that you can walk around in under 10 minutes. Sitting on our pretty riverside terrace, surrounded by flowering trees, listening to the sound of the trickling river in front of us really was such a delight. The restaurants here are very small eateries that are literally extensions built onto the front of people's houses. The kitchen they use to cook the food for their restaurant guests is the same kitchen that serves the household, and you have to walk through the family's own dining room to reach the bathroom. We ate our meal to the soundtrack of the family watching their evening TV shows in their living room which was just behind us. The village also has one of the best-stocked little shops I've ever frequented – nowhere else have I seen horse saddles sold alongside general groceries, DIY materials and clothes!

One of the things that Lucy and I had so been looking forward to was taking a train ride through the mighty canyon on the Copper Canyon Railway down to the warm sub-tropical riverside town of El Fuerte. Finally the day dawned for us to embark on our rail-road adventure. Over the course of our stay in Creel we had ascertained that the train (there is only one this time of year) runs notoriously late (or sometimes early) so we were prepared for the uncertainty of the time of it's arrival. On this occasion, it was almost half an hour late, but we boarded it excitedly in anticipation for the adventure ahead of us. Upon boarding the train, we were confronted with an overly-righteous train conductor, who we later realised was just awaiting an opportunity to exert the petty machinations of his authority. An hour and a half into our journey, and a stop to take in the splendid view at Divisadero, we were told we had fifteen minutes during which we could disembark the train. We chose to use our fifteen minutes expediently, in acquiring a shot of orange liqueur over ice at the rather luxurious solitary hotel. We'd paid a Monte Carlo-esq visit to Divisadero the day before, to absorb the view in our own sweet time and enjoy a leisurely lunch to the backdrop of the dramatic canyon. 

We kept a fastidious clock-watch as we did not want to miss the only train with all of our belongings on it...but, my friends...despite our meticulous time keeping, on leaving the hotel, Lucy was no less than mortified to witness the train pulling away from the platform with baby forumla et al on board. I ran as fast as I could up the hill to the platform, with Lucy in tow, 12kg of giggling Isis in her arms, to watch the train vanishing into the distance. The local street vendors quickly cognized our rather unfortunate predicament and one local immediately stepped up to the mark, shepperding us briskly into a nearby vehicle to speed us to the next train stop. A speedy car ride and 200 pesos later, we boarded the train at the aforementioned station and gave the righteous conductor a hefty piece our adrenaline-infused wrath. The word 'idiot' translates almost perfectly in Spanish. Coupled with the look on our faces, there was absolutely no ambiguity as to our sentiment. And all that happened no more than an hour after Lucy and I were almost lamenting the lack of compulsory slapstick travel incidents on our journey thus far. Good to know the universe is almost immediate in its response – and that we are obviously excellent manifestors. The phrase “be careful what you wish for” will now be viewed in a completely new light!

Now, talking of excellent manifestations, as we disembarked the train at El Fuerte, we were greeted by a charming chap speaking perfect English, who enquired as to whether or not we needed a hotel. Now Lucy and I are pretty highly organised ladies, and we had already planned to stay at another hotel, but when we tried to book it in advance, nobody had answered the phone. We asked how much it would cost to stay at his hotel and the price he quoted was double what we were prepared to pay. “It's the best hotel in town” he said. Lucy and I looked at each other “that's what they all say” we were both thinking. We were not budging on our price, so after a little negotiating, and a call to his boss, he agreed to give us a room according to our budget. A brief taxi ride later and we had arrived. It was no less than a luxurious 5-star hotel, complete with a swimming pool, pool-side bar...and a beautiful room. It appears our charming friend was telling the truth – it really was the best hotel in town. The rooms here actually cost double the price he quoted us – around £70 a night. We got to stay here for £8 a night each. Lucy and I literally jumped with glee, clapping our hands in delight – Isis was pretty happy about the situation too. We've coined a new motto for ourselves: “gold out of thin air”, because more and more, we are manifesting the simply splendid from seemingly nothing. And we fully intend on continuing this phenomena on our return home to bring into manifestation the tremendously exciting plans for the next phase of our lives.

Needless to say, our train ride through the canyon was nothing short of magnificent. When you look upon sights as breathtaking as these it's hard not to become totally awestruck at the wonderment of Mother Nature and all of her creations. I consider myself an extremely lucky girl to have had the opportunity to see such a sight. It will be a memory that I will carry with me forever. Down at El Fuerte the temperature is considerably warmer than up in Creel...it feels great to be able to put away the winter coat and get out the flip-flops again!

Catching the sun rising over the beach of Tulum with Lucy & Isis

Yes...that really is a chandelier made from antlers - up in north western Mexico where we felt like we'd wondered straight into a Western movie

One of the caves that a family of Raramuri live in

Giving the mushroom rocks some love...gotta love em shrooms!

And here be the rock frogs

The monks...or penises...

Taking in the view from the top of one of the...monk's heads...

The Ice Queen's waterfall

One part of the mighty Copper Canyon

More breathtaking canyon scenery...

The mysterious green-coloured river that winds its way through the entire canyon

The road to Batopilas...all in a day's work for us girls!

Cowgirl Isis a-go-go!

The little village of Batopilas, sleepily laying at the bottom of the canyon

Yep, them cacti sure are huge!

Possibly the oldest till I've ever seen...and it worked perfectly!

Some fire-side fun with Lucy & Isis

The breathtaking view at Divisadero

A Raramuri lady making one of her beautiful woven baskets

A gorgeous little Raramuri girl, busily selling handmade jewellery 

Having a Mone Carlo moment, enjoying the view at Divisadero (the day before our runaway train episode)