Bimbo is one of the strongest and most visible consumer brands in Guatemala. Part Hostess, part Quaker, part fluffy pastry goodness. What more could any Art Director wish for than to one day work on the Bimbo account. Just think of all the creative opportunity. Awesome!

My favorite new overseas shipper. OOCL did a great job with their new branding. When our container arrived to move our household from New Zealand to Colorado, it was pleasant surprise to see such a smart brand applied to a mundane 20″ steel container. Not only is the negative space a contemporary floral/organic shape, which beautifully juxtaposes the hard container shapes and letterforms, it also tells the story of global logistics and connectivity. Well done OOCL.

It’s funny how your most powerful and memorable experiences usually derive from an utter lack of preparation and planning. It must be the complete lack of expectation that creates an experience in its truest and purest form. No previous visualization taints and subtracts from the actual event.I guess what I am trying to say is that the more we imagine an event in advance, the more we might be disappointed or merely satisfied by the actual experience.

I did not plan on diving at the cenote - a limestone sinkhole that expands into a network of underwater network of cave chambers and tunnels. Each adored with magnificent stalactites and stalagmites. After diving the Blue Hole in Belize, a cenote in the middle of the ocean, my assumption of the inland cenotes was a simple sinkhole with some limestone features along its walls. Wrong.

I entered the Cenote Dos Ohos (Two Eyes), outside of Tulum, thinking I would go snorkeling, but could not resist the lure of the dive shop at the entrance that was calling my name. Three minutes later I was sitting in a jeep wearing a wetsuit, and two tanks on the backseat. The deal was just too good to pass off.

We arrived at the actual cenote where roughly 50 divers were switching tanks, suiting up, talking shop and, to my surprise, smoked. This cenote diving thing was vastly more popular than I had anticipated. I seemed to be in for a good ride.

And it got better: Somehow I had to share my guide with only one other person for the first dive, and no one else for the second tank. What would be next? Mermaids feeding us lobster?

Anyone who has done some reef dives knows how fish are a major contributing factor to limited visibility, due to their constant bowel movements, exerting sand, coral, algae, and who knows what else. (Almost) no fish in the cenote meant absolutely clear water with unbelievable visibility. At no point could I decide what the actual visibility would be, since the underwater cave only allowed for straight views of maybe 40 – 50 meters, but I’m sure I could see for 200 meters in these conditions. At times, I almost forgot that I was surrounded by water.

We floated through large chambers, narrow passageways, tight keyholes and tunnels, around stalactites and stalagmites. The tiny air pockets amongst myriads of stalactites on the cave ceilings looked like mercury, dancing and quivering while reflecting our torches. At times, we killed our lights to marvel at the blue light entering the cave system in the distance from several small openings.

Diving in a cenote is the closest we humans will ever get to true weightless floating, I reckon. Not only is the water clear enough to create the perfect illusion of floating through space, but the strong vertical elements of the limestone cave give you a true sense of controlling both your horizontal and your vertical movements.

Once I fine-tuned my buoyancy, navigating through the maze of limestone formations got progressively easier. We sought tight spaces only to see whether we can control our breathing enough to never have our tanks, fins or hands touch the delicate environment. In the end, it was the combination of large open halls, vertical elements and narrow tunnels that made these two dives my most memorable ones so far.  Two hours of my life I will remember for the many years to come.

Cenotes (apparently there are hundreds of them throughout the Yucutan, and 18 famous ones for diving around Tulum) – I’ll be back!

Turns out, Good Friday is indeed a terrible day to travel in Central America.

My goal for today was to escape the entrapment of the 2-acre island of Tobacco Caye (just as the weather turned perfect, as it would), and bus it to Corozal, a small town just south of the Mexican Border.

If not the lack of morning ferry was a sign, the lack of buses at the Dangriga bus terminal certainly should have been one. I finally caught a boat from Tobacco Caye to Dangriga around lunch, reached the bus terminal around 1, only to find out that the next bus heading to Belize City would not leave until 3:30. Rats.

My fat travel novel is coming to an end quickly, so I decided to utilize my Ipod games instead, so as to stretch out my juicy book for a few more days. The cheap bastard that I am, my Ipod only contains the factory games, which pretty much all suck big time. At the end, I spent two hours in disbelief of how difficult Solitaire ended up being. Of my fourty-or some games, I won once. After all this effort, I was expecting some sort of fireworks show on my 2-inch screen. Alas, a small line of text announcing “We Have A Winner” was the chosen award by Steve Jobbs. I made a small note to invest into some more rewarding games prior to my next bus-based travels.

I knew it! I arrived in scary Belize City just around sunset, 6PM, only to find out that there were no more buses leaving for the day. Something about a holy day and the bad luck that would come from working on this religious holiday. Well, looks like I will be spending this Good Friday in beautiful Belize City then, I rejoiced!

One of the major differences between Guatemala and Belize is the lack of public pump action (PPA). In Guatemala, every street corner is normally adorned with a juvenile rent-a-cop armed with a very intimidating shot gun, the weapon of choice in this area. Very rockstar! In Belize on the other hand, you don’t see any form of law enforcement, no shotguns, not even machetes. Funny enough, Belize City could certainly benefit from a bit more PPA. This city is pretty scary! And here is what confuses my simple mind the most: How is it possible that a country, which seems to be charging prices similar to what we are used to in the US, gives birth to a city as poor as Belize City?

Apparently there is one safe area in Belize City, but the bus terminal was certainly nowhere near that area. A cheap and quick cab ride dropped me off at some guest house, where the combination of street atmosphere and security doors communicated in a clear voice not to ever think about leaving this place after dark. Hah! I did anyway.

The guest house had a subtle urine smell emanating from its walls, but under these conditions, it had to do. My room was a dirty little hole with a humorously small pad-lock on the door. After unsuccessfully attempting to buy a couple of the Beers (and why are Belize beers bottled in 284ml bottles???) from the owner, someone mentioned a Chinese restaurant two blocks away that might be able to help out. I mustered all my bravery, and embarked on my journey into the mouth of Belize City’s terror of darkness.

The first two men I encountered were unmistakably gangster types (the beach cruisers could not fool me), but instead of guns, they brandished big smiles. I loosened the grip around the concealed camp fork that I carried in my pocket, and bee-lined to the designated corner. The lack of light and padlocked steel doors did not look promising. I ran a small bell without much hope, but to my surprise, steel curtains were raised, and this time I felt reinforced in my trek through the belly of the beast. Not only one steel door, but two separated me from the objects of my desires. A small Chinese lady who spoke neither English or Spanish took my money through the cracks in the first steel door, walked across a dimly lit shop/restaurant floor, opened a second steel security door, and shortly returned with my beer and change. Now that felt more like Belize City!

I returned back to my guesthouse with my loot like Julius Caesar from victorious battle. Tomorrow I might even dare to seek out some local breakfast.

As we arrived inBelize City from Tikal, the differences between this Jamaican outpost and the rest of Central America were instantly visible and audible. Belize City danced to the drums of reggae, Garifunga and Creole.  This did not help at all to further develop our rudimentary Spanish attempts. It would have felt completely inappropriate to attempt a Spanish conversation here. Almost as inappropriate as American tourists traveling through the rest of Central America without the smallest attempt of using any form of basic Spanish. Almost.

From Belize City we caught a water taxi to Caye Caulker, the more budget oriented one of the two Cayes, to dive the Blue Hole and expose ourselves to the Caribbean charm of Belize, as much as our budget allowed for it. Compared to the rest of Central America, Belize’s price structure seems aligned with the US, turning it into a surprisingly expensive exercise. The fairytale white beaches, abundant coconut palms, roaming Iguanas, soaring Pelicans, Frigate- and Booby Birds make is a well-worth experience though.

After a late-night change of “hotels/cabañas” due to some unexpected six-legged visitor on our bed, we got up at the crack of dawn to dive the marveled Blue Hole. Belize sports the world’s second largest Coral Reef (after the Australian Great Barrier Reef), and the Blue Hole is the main attraction here, due to its unusual formation. This oceanic sink hole, encircled by coral reefs, drops to 300 meters and attracts schools of the Belize Reef Sharks. As we dove to 42 meters, the walls of the sinkhole transformed to stalactites and stalagmites, as the water turned dark and the visibility dropped to 8 – 10 meters. We swam through the cave-like formations surrounded by eerie darkness, and as we emerged from the rock tunnels, the large silhouettes of the sharks became visible. These reef sharks were much larger than black-or white-tipped reef sharks. A feast for the eyes as they passed us. Kim would have enjoyed them too, if her mask would not have been completely fogged up.

The Blue Hole is a dive experience that you are most likely to do only once, as it is a short and expensive little number. It’s shorter, darker and more physically demanding than the average Caribbean dive, but the setting and uniqueness of the formation makes it a must-do in every log book. Check.

The next two dives, Halfmoon Caye and The Aquarium (all part of the Lighthouse Reef) were crystal clear, colorful sites with abundant marine life and great visibility. Much less memorable than the principal dive of that day, however.

The next day we spent snorkeling with the crew from the rickety sailboat Black Hawk. Two of the three sites were part of a marine reserve, and we cuddled (literally) with Nurse Sharks and Eagle Rays.

As we were burning through money quickly on Caye Caulker, and wanted to experience more of Belize than this backpacker hotspot, we departed early on the third day, without much of a plan as to where the next bus would take us. 

Without much of a goal in mind other than traveling South along the coast to see some more of Belize off the beaten path, we boarded a bus in Belize City to Dangriga. Over the next two hours, our group of two merged with two girls from Finnland and a Mexican/Czech couple, and it was decided to head for Tobacco Caye, a much less touristy atoll out on the reef about 150 km south of Belize City.

As we left the bus station in Dangriga on the search for the water taxi dock, we stood out like sore thumbs as the six of us trudged with massive backpacks through this Garifuna town that hasn’t discovered all the “blessings” of tourism. Every other person we encountered on the street seemed to be the captain of some sort of boat, offering us discounted fares to our destination. We finally agreed on a price, and braced for a stormy passage in a tiny boat that didn’t seem appropriate at all for these conditions. A few pushes here and there, and we made it through the sandbanks of the estuary. Kim turned white as a ghost as we negotiated the surf and swells, but miraculously we all arrived save, albeit wet, at the smallest island I have ever set foot on so far.

Tobacco Caye is a 2-acre island next to the reef, containing a few all-inclusive accommodations that all cater towards the low- to medium budget traveler. Coconuts can be whacked from the palm tres for easy drinking, Pelicans and Frigate Birds hang out on the peer, an Osprey with a chick can be seen nesting atop one of the dive outfitters, and the reef allows for ample snorkeling opportunities right from the beach. The setting seemed absolutely perfect, but for the first time so far, the weather did not seem to be cooperating: The wind had been blowing storm ever since the morning, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

We skipped the Snorkeling/Manatee watching tour this morning hoping for better weather tomorrow and hopefully be able to go dive with Whalesharks that make their appearances right around the full-moon in this area. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for calm and sunny conditions tomorrow, but the silver lining of these conditions is the long-overdue blog update. The only thing missing on this cloudy day is a nice cup of coffee.

 Six more days to my first Quadruple Americano form Peaberry.

We could not have asked for a more perfect day to leave good old Christchurch. Not only did the striking blue sky paint the city in its most vibrant colors, some thousand bagpipe players had also assembled throughout the city and its parks for no apparent reason. Funny enough, they did not seem out-of-place in this olde English town.

Leaving Christchurch was a bit of a bittersweet departure. As much as we looked forward to reuniting with our friends in the city we still call home, we knew we would miss our life in New Zealand as well. Just how much we would yet have to see. We are trading in the ocean in front of our Sumner house for the majestic Rocky Mountains in our Denver backyard. At this point in time, I fantasize daily about Colorado - hopefully I can deal without the ocean.

As our container is making it across the seven seas, Kim and I are traveling for 5 weeks through Fiji and most of Central America. This should be a very welcome buffer to not only starting to drive on the other side of the road again, but also to get the mind acquainted with yet another move to the other side of the world. Bye bye New Zealand, it’s been great! Truly Great!

Nick, Kim and myself spent or last Waitangi Day in New Zealand at the über-spectacular Mueller Hut opposite of Mt Cook. Pictures after the jump.

On our last chance to maximize our experience in New Zealand, we went for an all-out scenic assault of the South Island to fill all the remaining gaps. Each year, new Zealand enters a 2-3 week life-support stage as the entire nation packs up their beloved campervans and heads to the beaches. And by “entire nation”, I mean “entire nation.” A sign of a country that truly values a healthy work-life balance.  The poseur-kiwis that we are, we had no caravan to pack, but the trusty Impreza was a more suitable piece of machinery anyway to take us to beaches, glaciers and rainforests. Pictures and details after the jump.

Kayaking at Abel Tasman

A kiwi classic. We hiked the length of this tropical wonderland last year, and could not wait to return in a massive fibreglass sea kayak. Packing in ridiculous amounts of food and wine, we set out from Bark Bay, to play around Tonga Island and the surrounding coves. On day two, we had to sit tight at Anchorage as the rough sea made the Wild Mile further south impassable. Fresh mussels (the snorkeling gear came in handy) were delicious. Day three brought perfect weather, and we maximized our time in the little coves past teh wild mile, dining on more fresh mussels with a great couple from Diamond Harbour that donated bread and garlic butter to the feast.

It was December 25th as we returned to Marahau, and as we had never made it across Takaka Hill to Takaka and Collingwood, we decided to use the remainder of that day to explore this very remote corner of the South Island. A true kiwi gem unfolded: Descending into Takaka, we realized the dire need for gas, before we would return back over the hill to Motueka, where our hostel was booked. Alas, that was not an option. All gas stations on that side of the hill were closed, no card readers available, leaving us no other option than to look for accommodation in Takaka. This turned out to be a great turn of events, as we stumbled upon the Espresso Pirate Ship (a former boat of Jaques Custeau) which could not have been a better breakfast spot. Happily filled up with caffeine, we left this tropical paradise to cross over to the wild west coast, where the Old Slaughterhouse would await us.

The Old Slaughterhouse