A two-month journey from the spirituality of Antigua’s Semana Santa, the colossal Mayan ruins of Tikal, Spanish lessons on Lake Atitlán, and the Lagoon of Seven Colours in Bacalar. We wrapped up in Riviera Maya and survived a flight cancellation in Cancún before leaping across the Pacific to Fiji.
Our month of travel shifted gears dramatically from the tropical sands of the Maldives, with the final leg of that journey bringing us back to North America on February 28th, flying from Malé to Toronto via Dubai. The time spent in Canada was a welcome pause and a highlight, offering precious weeks to reconnect and visit our grandson before setting off on the next adventure. We also got to have a visit with past Fort Smith friends, Jeff Clubine and Caroline Matthews (and Kai and Mirabelle).
The time in Canada concluded on Wednesday, March 19, 2025, with the next destination: Guatemala. We boarded our flight from Toronto (YYZ), which took a multi-step route south. The first leg, Avianca flight AV 627, brought us to San Salvador (SAL) in El Salvador. After a short layover, we caught the connecting flight, AV 578, finally touching down at Guatemala City (GUA) just before 11:00 p.m.
It was at the Guatemala City airport that we completed our trio, meeting Sharon after her own lengthy travel day. Sharon made the long trek from Edmonton, Alberta, navigating a complicated itinerary involving several stops on the route to Central America to meet us. The reunion after all our separate travels was the perfect end to a long day of flying.
We spent just one essential night in the capital, checking into the Casa 96 Hotel to recover from our flights and prepare for the next leg of the journey. The following morning, Thursday, March 20, we were ready to leave the hustle of the city behind and take an Uber to the colonial charm of Antigua.
The Ancient Embrace of Antigua: Vocation and Vistas
Our grand Central American adventure truly began the morning of Thursday, March 20, 2025, as we climbed into an Uber in Guatemala City. The initial flurry of arrival—the late-night Avianca flight via San Salvador, and a quick, necessary stopover at the Casa 96 Hotel—was behind us. We were worried about whether we would be able to get to Antigua, as there had been protests and roadblocks over new motorcycle insurance laws. Now, the slow, beautiful unveiling of the drive was leading us directly to Antigua. We left the city behind us, knowing that where we were heading, time is measured by the shadows of mountains.
The moment we stepped out of the shuttle and onto the uneven cobblestones of Antigua, I felt the city's unique magic. The air was cool and crisp, and the colossal, cone-shaped volcanoes stood guard over the city—especially the mighty Fuego, often crowned with a wisp of smoke, giving the landscape a grounded, majestic quality. Our home for the next eight nights was Héctor's lovely, expansive Airbnb, the Céntrico y Amplio Apartamento. Settling in felt less like checking into a rental and more like taking up temporary residence in a piece of history, an authentic base for our dual missions: mine for work, and Nicola and Sharon’s for unadulterated exploration.
Days of Discovery
Before my Northern Leadership Development Program (NLDP) commitments began on Monday, we had a precious few days to immerse ourselves completely in the city's rhythm. We started with a free walking tour —the best way to let the city's stories wash over us. The guide led us through the quiet grandeur of the colonial ruins, pointing out the seismic damage that gave structures like the Iglesia de San Francisco their haunting, roofless beauty. We learned that the city’s heart was the Parque Central, a lush, green square where vendors sold nuts, polished shoes, children chased pigeons, and Antigüeños gathered on the ornate wrought-iron benches.
We wandered for hours, perpetually drawn to the iconic Arco de Santa Catalina, the yellow-painted arch that frames Volcán de Agua perfectly in the distance.
Every photo felt like a postcard, the city was an explosion of colour: brilliant pink bougainvillaea cascaded down centuries-old ochre and indigo walls, mingling with the deep red and purple fabrics sold in the local markets.
To truly appreciate the setting, we made the pilgrimage up to the Cerro de la Cruz, the high point overlooking the city. From there, the grid-like planning of the colonial town sprawled beneath us, perfectly squared off by the towering presence of the surrounding volcanoes—a view that reminded us daily that we were living on the edge of the sublime.
The sounds of the city drifted up to us: the insistent, throaty rumble of the colourful "chicken buses"—old North American school buses painted in psychedelic patterns and stuffed with people and cargo—roaring up and down the narrow streets, a boisterous symbol of local life.
The Great Divide: Vocation vs. Vistas
Then, my work began. From Monday, March 24, to Thursday, March 27, I was deeply focused on my teaching in the NLDP, but my daily routine was soundtracked and energized by the tales of Nicola and Sharon’s conquests.
Their first great triumph came on Saturday, March 22, with an afternoon trek. They had decided to conquer one of the region's famous peaks, opting for a challenging hike up Pacaya Volcano. I remember Sharon posting a sunset photo: “Guys on horses followed us all the way up, asking if we wanted to ride up! Unfortunately, there were too many clouds for a good sunset and view of the volcanoes. #VolcanoVibes #GuatemalaSunrise.” They returned home utterly exhausted, their boots covered in the dust of an active volcano, but buzzing with the story of roasting marshmallows over the residual heat vents and their victory over the towering landscape.
The very next day, Sunday, March 23, they undertook the famous, often bewildering, day trip to the highlands for the legendary Chichicastenango Market. Nicola’s description was of a beautiful, frantic chaos: “This isn’t a market, it’s a living, breathing symphony of colour! Seriously overwhelmed by the textiles and the incredible energy. Trying not to buy everything. #ChichiMarket #MayanCulture.” They described the intense smoke and floral scent of incense burning on the steps of the Santo Tomás Church, where the ancient Mayan world thrives, vibrant and undiluted, amidst the commerce.
Mid-week, they engaged in a more refined pursuit, treating themselves to a quintessential Antiguian experience: a chocolate-making course. Cacao is deeply rooted in Guatemalan history, and Nicola’s Facebook update perfectly summed up the sweetness: “From bean to bar! Who knew crushing cacao nibs was such a workout? The Mayans knew what they were doing when they invented this spice-infused drink. #GuatemalaChocolate #Cacao.” They became experts in grinding the roasted beans and blending the rich paste with local spices, promising to bring the skill home.
The Holy City Transformed
The true spectacle, however, was the burgeoning presence of Semana Santa. Even as I worked, the streets hummed with activity. The air was heavy with the expectation of Holy Week. As we explored the city, we saw families, neighbourhood groups, and church confraternities meticulously crafting the famous alfombras, or "sawdust carpets."
These were breathtaking, ephemeral works of art: intricate, brightly coloured murals made of dyed sawdust, pine needles, flowers, and fruit, laid directly onto the cobblestone streets. I remember pausing one evening to watch an elderly woman carefully tracing a geometric pattern before filling it in with brilliant purple sawdust—a temporary masterpiece destined to last only a few solemn minutes before a massive religious procession walked over it.
We were fortunate enough to witness a few of these spectacular processions. The atmosphere was thick with devotion, the air filling with the haunting sound of Roman trumpets and slow, heavy drums. Then, the processions would emerge from a church, huge woodenandas (floats) carrying life-sized statues of Christ or the Virgin Mary. They were so massive that they required fifty or more cucuruchos (penitents in purple robes) to carry them. The bearers swayed rhythmically with the monumental weight, stepping slowly, reverently, over the delicate alfombras and utterly destroying the temporary beauty with each heavy step. It was a powerful, moving display of faith and fleeting beauty that truly defined the magic of our time there.
As my final teaching day wrapped up on Thursday, March 27, and our check-out date of Friday, March 28, approached, a sense of dual accomplishment settled in. My professional mission was successful, and our cultural immersion—amplified by the incredible energy of Semana Santa—was richer and deeper than I could have imagined. We packed our bags, ready to trade the grand volcanoes and historic squares for the legendary peace of a crater lake—our next destination, the tranquil shores of Lake Atitlán, awaited.
Reflections and Lessons: The Tranquillity of Lake Atitlán
The transition from the grand, bustling colonial beauty of Antigua to the serene, powerful landscape of Lake Atitlán felt like trading a history book for an epic poem. On Friday, March 28, we took a shuttle out of the cobbled city and began the winding descent toward the lake, a body of water often heralded as one of the most beautiful in the world. As the road crested the final ridge, the vista exploded open before us: a vast, cobalt-blue caldera shimmering under the sun, ringed by three majestic volcanoes—Atitlán, Tolimán, and San Pedro. It was breathtaking, a view that instantly quieted the mind. The shuttle dropped us in Panajachel, and we took a lancha across the lake to San Pedro La Laguna.
Our first home on the lake was in San Pedro La Laguna, a vibrant, bustling hub known for its backpacker scene and, most importantly for us, its excellent Spanish schools. The 
San Pedro was a sensory overload in the best way. The streets were narrow, packed with tuk-tuks and local vendors selling everything from woven hammocks to fresh banana bread. The pulse of the town was dictated by the lanchas (small passenger boats), the water taxis that constantly ferried people between the dozen or so villages dotting the shoreline. We quickly learned the etiquette of hopping aboard a lancha and finding a seat, a simple but essential part of daily life.
The Classroom on the Water
The primary mission for us (Nicola, Sharon and me) during this time was our Spanish school lessons. We spent half of each day in immersive, Spanish instruction, painstakingly conjugating verbs and stumbling through conversations. Nicola and Sharon shared an instructor, and I had my own. It was mentally exhausting but incredibly rewarding, the perfect way to anchor ourselves to the local culture.
But the learning didn’t end when the notebooks closed. In the evenings, the school offered optional cultural activities. We joined our fellow students for a cooking lesson, a chocolate-making lesson and a cotton-spinning demonstration. It allowed us to participate in engaging conversational practice sessions that often led to hilarious miscommunications and new friendships. These evening activities cemented a bond with the community that went far beyond the classroom walls. 
Peaks, Trails, and Canopy Adventures
While I wanted some downtime, Sharon, ever the intrepid solo hiker, took on the most challenging trek: the ascent to the Rostro Maya ("Indian Nose") viewpoint. It was an early morning climb up a steep path, hopefully for a truly unforgettable sunrise reward. Unfortunately, the clouds prevented the ideal sunrise that she had hoped for. Nevertheless, she described the experience as meditative, reaching the cliff edge just as the sun broke over the eastern horizon, albeit behind cloud cover. She still had an amazing view across the lake and a silent audience with the three giants.
Together, the three of us tackled a magnificent coastal walk, hiking a stunning trail that connects Santa Cruz to Tzununa. It was a journey of contrast, leading us past upscale guesthouses and deep into the quiet rhythm of the smaller, traditional K’iche’ villages. We navigated dusty paths, saw women washing clothes in the lake’s cool waters, and passed quiet fields, soaking up the landscape on foot. 
Nicola and Sharon also devoted a day to the Atitlán Nature Reserve near Panajachel. Their highlight was walking the canopy bridges, viewing the rainforest from above, and watching for the vibrant Quetzals (the national bird of Guatemala), coatimundis, spider monkeys, and amazing flora, a thrilling connection to the region’s dense ecology.
A Scorpion and a Quieter Shore
On April 6th, Sharon departed, and Nicola and I transitioned to a new AirBnb for a final, quieter three-night stay. We moved to the tiny village of Santa Cruz La Laguna, checking into the GuateMia & Papachulo Bar #14, a more remote spot accessed only by a dedicated lancha dock. Santa Cruz was the antithesis of bustling San Pedro; it was tranquil, with little more than a steep, single path running through the village. It was paradise, save for one unexpected encounter.
One evening, as we settled into our room, Nicola let out a sharp gasp. There, on the wall, was a humungous (it was probably quite small, but that is not how I recall it), dark scorpion. I, channelling some inner mountain-man bravado (and perhaps remembering a safety warning or two), swiftly and not-so carefully startled our unwelcome guest, losing track of where he went. Nicola went to find some help and brought back a young woman (who was actually a German police officer) who helped us rid our room of the scorpion. How immasculating! We covered the bottom of our door to hopefully prevent him from returning. It was a brief, heart-pounding anecdote that instantly became a defining memory of our wilder surroundings—a sharp reminder that we were deep within nature, not just observing it.
Our time in Santa Cruz was spent enjoying the utter silence, reading on the balcony, and simply watching the lake’s surface change colour.
A Fleeting Finale in Panajachel
Our Lake Atitlán chapter concluded on Wednesday, April 9. Our last stop before catching our bus back to Guatemala City was Panajachel (known as Pana), the largest and most commercial town on the lake. We spent just a couple of hours wandering the main tourist street, Calle Santander, doing some last-minute exploring and grabbing a quick lunch before catching our transport. Pana felt like a transition point, a necessary bridge back to the louder world we were about to re-enter.
From there, we boarded our final shuttle back to Guatemala City. Our flight—Avianca 700 at 18:25—would take us away from the volcanoes and across the country to Flores, the gateway to Tikal. Lake Atitlán had given us everything: challenge, learning, immense beauty, and a few unforgettable moments of wildlife drama. It was a truly restorative and foundational leg of the journey, leaving us feeling ready for the Mayan pyramids that lay ahead.
The Path to Petén: Flores and the Majesty of Tikal
Our departure from Lake Atitlán on Wednesday, April 9th, marked a sharp, geographical pivot in our journey. Our Avianca flight, AV 700 at 18:25, took us away from the high-altitude tranquility of the caldera, across the spine of Guatemala, and into the humid, tropical heat of the Petén region. This was the Mayan heartland, and our next base was Flores, a tiny, beautiful island city moored in the vast, still waters of Lake Petén Itzá.
Flores immediately charmed us with its relaxed, colourful atmosphere. It is essentially a circle of brightly painted colonial buildings squeezed onto a small island, connected to the mainland by a short causeway. From the moment we settled into our accommodation, the views were everywhere—sunlight glinting off the lake, fishing boats idling by the shore, and the gentle bustle of daily life circling the town.
City life here was simple and vibrant: people gathering in the town centre for spirited games of basketball and volleyball in the evenings, the locals moving with a relaxed pace that belied the equatorial heat, and children diving into the cool lake from the docks. The people of Flores were incredibly welcoming, their warmth adding to the island's laid-back, infectious energy.
Our focus for the next week was a return to intensive education. Nicola and I dove back into our books, dedicating four days of intensive Spanish lessons to bolster the foundation we had built at the lake. We spent hours in one-on-one sessions, pushing past the initial hurdle of verb tenses and struggling through rapid-fire conjugation drills. This deep dive cemented our knowledge, allowing us to interact more meaningfully with the locals. The intensity of the classroom was always balanced by the evenings.
Our favourite discovery was a no-frills taco and burrito food stand (Tacos Los Peches) in the town square. The food was sensational, cheap, and utterly satisfying, becoming our nightly ritualistic reward for a day spent grappling with the subjuntivo. There were often long lines to wrestle with for these great burritos.
The Jungle and the Giants
The primary reason for coming to Petén, of course, was the legendary Tikal National Park. Our visit to the ruins was a highlight not just of this trip, but was among the highlights of many of my world travels. We arrived early, following a local path through the dense, chirping jungle before the main entrance. Stepping into Tikal was like entering another dimension. The sheer scale of the Mayan civilization was awe-inspiring, with giant Temple I (The Temple of the Grand Jaguar) and Temple II (The Temple of the Masks) rising dramatically out of the rainforest canopy, a testament to an ancient, powerful civilization.
The climb to the top of Temple IV was non-negotiable. Reaching the summit, covered in sweat and exhilaration, we were met with the famous, unforgettable view: the tops of other Mayan temples peeking out like rocky islands from a vast, green sea of jungle. The air was thick with humidity and the sound of howler monkeys, whose terrifying, guttural roar sounded more like a mythical beast than a primate. It was a visceral, powerful experience, giving us a true sense of the monumental scale and mysterious beauty of the Mayan world.
Beyond the major site, we took the time to visit a nearby local village on the mainland. This side trip provided a crucial contrast to the tourist bustle of the island and the historical grandeur of Tikal. We saw the day-to-day reality of life in Petén: small, colourful homes, communal water taps, and a slow, quiet rhythm centred around the necessities of life. A climb to a high point permitted an amazing overview of Flores. We met a lovely family, a Guatemalan woman and a Mexican man and their son, who were extremely welcoming. It was a grounding experience, connecting us to the real, modern Guatemala, away from the historical monuments.
As our time in Flores drew to a close, a sense of readiness settled over us. We had pushed our linguistic abilities and stood in the presence of giants, literally and figuratively. We had one final meal from the trusty burrito truck, packed our bags, and prepared for the next great logistical challenge. Our Central American chapter was ending. The next morning, we would trade the lakeside views for a new set of horizons, taking a bus to the border with Belize, and then another onward journey to the shimmering blue lagoon of Bacalar, Mexico.
The Crossing: From Petén Jungle to the Riviera Maya
Our time in Flores concluded, and the next segment of our journey was one of pure, raw transition. On the morning of Thursday, April 17, we packed our bags for what would be a complex day of border crossings. The first hurdle was the long, hot bus ride from Flores toward the Belize border. This was Central American travel at its most visceral: a bumpy, dusty journey that lasted hours, weaving through the remote, sparse landscape of the Petén jungle.
The journey required us to navigate two borders in quick succession—first into Belize, where Spanish gives way to Creole-inflected English, and then, after a brief, hot stint in no-man's-land, the final crossing into Mexico. We had to pay a visa fee to enter Belize, even though it was only for a couple of hours. The shift felt palpable, a true step into a new world of logistics, language, and landscape. By the time we arrived in Bacalar, Mexico, on Friday, April 18, we were exhausted but exhilarated. We checked into the Hotel Soi Bacalar, ready for the next phase of our Yucatán Peninsula adventure.
Bacalar: The Lagoon of Seven Colours
Bacalar instantly charmed us with its calm, freshwater beauty. Unlike the rough, ocean-battered coasts of the Yucatán, this town is built around the vast, mesmerizing Laguna de Siete Colores (Lagoon of Seven Colours). The name is earned: depending on the depth and the time of day, the water shifts through a palette of turquoise, indigo, emerald, and sky blue.
Our main activity was, naturally, getting out onto the water. We spent an entire afternoon on a lagoon boat trip, which took us gliding over the incredible tapestry of blues. Our guide pointed out the spots where the water shifted dramatically in colour, a visual demonstration of the geological forces at work. We sailed past ancient cenotes, the dark, deep openings in the limestone floor that feed the lagoon, and navigated the famous Canal de los Piratas, a historic channel once used by buccaneers to smuggle goods from the coast.
On land, the pace of life was wonderfully slow. Bacalar is built around a gentle, authentic Mexican charm. We explored the Fuerte de San Felipe, a stout Spanish fort dating back to the 17th century, built to defend the town from those very same pirates. The fort offered magnificent views over the lagoon and the town square. We wandered the quiet, colourful streets, visiting the small, local markets for fresh fruit and local crafts, soaking up the quiet city life of a town that feels miles away from the tourist resorts. We also took a tranquil walk along the lagoon nature reserve boardwalk, connecting with the jungle edge of the water and watching the sunlight filter through the dense mangrove trees, a peaceful contrast to the boat's excitement.
A New Era on the Tren Maya
On the morning of Tuesday, April 22, our time in Bacalar came to an end. It was time for a final, distinct travel experience: a ride on the brand-new Tren Maya. Train travel is perhaps Nicola's favourite way to travel. We boarded Train 602 at 10:29 AM for our journey in Clase Turista to the coast. This was no cramped bus; the Tren Maya was sleek, comfortable, and efficient, a symbol of modern Mexico cutting a path through the ancient landscape.
The journey was fascinating. We watched the dense, low-slung jungle of the peninsula blur by our windows, a green tunnel interrupted only by the occasional clearings and small, isolated stations. It was a comfortable, four-hour trip, arriving in Playa Del Carmen at 2:20 PM.
Playa Del Carmen: The Coastal Pulse
The contrast upon arriving in Playa Del Carmen was immediate and jarring. The relaxed, freshwater tranquility of Bacalar was replaced by the high-energy, international pulse of the Riviera Maya. Our base for the final leg was the "Beachoffice entre la playa y la 5a WiFi 80mb" Airbnb. Its bizarre name was a perfect description: a conveniently located, modern apartment designed for digital nomad life, placed strategically between the chaos of Fifth Avenue and the shimmering Caribbean shore.
Our days were dedicated to the beach. The famous stretch of sand was a whirlwind of activity, a mix of international luxury and local athleticism. We spent some time watching a beach volleyball tournament that brought together youth and adults alike. Amidst the chaos of umbrellas and sound systems, we stumbled upon a cultural wellness ceremony—definitely an interesting blend of traditional costumes and dance with a wellness theme.
The reality of the Caribbean coast was also on full display, as we witnessed large crews of workers performing daily seaweed cleanup, working tirelessly to rake up the Sargassum that plagues the shoreline and maintain the flawless white-sand image of the Riviera.
In the evenings, we plunged into the vibrant life of downtown Playa Del Carmen. Our nightly ritual was a walk down Quinta Avenida, the famous pedestrian street that functions as the city's malecón or central hub. It was a beautiful, overwhelming surge of lights, music, high-end shops, restaurants, and people from every corner of the globe. It was a spectacular, energetic climax to our Guatemalan & Mexican adventure, a final, brilliant chapter before a long journey to Fiji.
The Final Leap: Cancun, Grapevine, and the Pacific Horizon
Our two-month Central American adventure was drawing to a close, and the final days were a frantic mix of travel logistics and an unexpected twist of fate. On April 30, we said goodbye to the neon-lit energy of Playa Del Carmen. Our journey to the airport began with an efficient bus trip from Playa Del Carmen to Cancún International Airport, a final, mundane step on the local public transportation system that we had come to rely on.
We arrived at the airport ready for a clean escape, but the universe had other plans. Our scheduled flight to Dallas was abruptly cancelled. The reason: massive storms were wreaking havoc on air traffic operations in the Dallas area. We were faced with the frustrating reality of being stranded, but a silver lining quickly appeared. Since we had booked our tickets with a credit card that provided robust travel protection, the insurance kicked in, albeit after some work on our part. When we left the airport in Cancun, we did get to witness an incident in which the police hauled away a man who had been giving airport staff a hard time.
This cancellation of our flight suddenly turned into an unexpected, luxurious reprieve. We booked a room at a beautiful all-inclusive hotel in Cancún for the night and return shuttle transport. It was a bizarre, delightful 24-hour bonus vacation—trading an airport lounge floor for a swim-up bar and a pristine beach. We had trouble getting through to the credit card company, but in the end, they reimbursed us for the extra night's hotel and shuttle costs. This ultimately transformed a major travel headache into a final, complimentary slice of Mexican paradise.
We finally boarded our rescheduled flight one day late, arriving in Dallas with surprisingly little stress. The delay had been neatly absorbed, and we touched down at DFW with a comfortable eleven hours to spare before our marathon flight to Fiji was due to depart.
An Unexpected Taste of Texas History
Instead of whiling away the hours at the airport, we seized the opportunity for a final, unexpected excursion. We took a free shuttle into the nearby historic district of Grapevine, Texas. This charming town, situated right next to the massive airport, is known as the "Christmas Capital of Texas", but proved equally interesting in the spring.
The high street was packed with quaint buildings and a nostalgic Western aesthetic. We settled in for a final lunch—a hearty meal that was a sharp contrast to the pupusas and tacos we’d been living on for weeks. Then, we explored the town, enjoying the distinctly American, old-fashioned charm. Grapevine is especially interesting for its emphasis on historical preservation; it's home to restored 19th and early 20th-century buildings, and its central location is an active testament to Texas rail history. It was a brief, gentle immersion into a different culture—a slice of Americana—before we were to cross an ocean.
This image was taken by Renelibrary and the file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.
As the afternoon wore on, we took the shuttle back to DFW, refreshed and ready. It was time for the next great journey: the long haul across the Pacific. Checking in for our flight, we felt the finality of the last two months. Our tickets were for a true long-distance haul, taking us to the sunny shores of Fiji to begin our South Pacific cruise.
A Final Reflection: Guatemala and Mexico
The almost two-month journey through Guatemala and Mexico was an extraordinary tapestry of immersion, adventure, and learning. It began with the visceral devotion of Antigua’s Semana Santa, where the spectacle of the alfombras was a lesson in fleeting beauty and intense faith, set against the powerful backdrop of the volcanoes. We pushed ourselves physically on the slopes of Pacaya and intellectually in the NLDP classroom.
The transition to Lake Atitlán introduced a new, tranquil kind of challenge. Days were spent in the relentless, rewarding effort of Spanish language study, balanced by the simple, beautiful life on the water—navigating the lanchas, climbing the Rostro Maya, and surviving a close encounter with a scorpion in Santa Cruz.
Finally, Flores and Tikal gave us a profound sense of history, allowing us to walk in the shadow of the colossal Mayan temples. The efficiency of the new Tren Maya then whisked us to the luxurious, yet high-energy, coasts of Playa Del Carmen.
From the ancient cobbled streets of Antigua to the modern beaches of the Mexican Riviera, the journey was a profound expansion of our world. We departed for the Pacific not just rested, but culturally saturated and ready for the next adventure, carrying with us the sounds of howler monkeys, the scent of cacao, and a deeper appreciation for the complex, beautiful heart of Central America.
