My brief encounter with Guatemala

As the shuttle bus from the Mexican border rattled down a myriad unpaved roads, I could already see that the people of Guatemala are hard-workers with a clear understanding of what it means to relax. Every house we passed had a plot of well-tended farmland and at least one hammock swinging in the porch. To me, this is symbolic of perfect life balance, something that we can’t quite grasp in the UK. I am guilty of this. I could learn a thing or two from the Latin American lifestyle, and fully intend to give it a go when I return home. My friends will no doubt laugh at this statement. The word ‘relax’ is a crinkly burn hole in my personal dictionary. 

Typical Guatemalan house

I loved the drive between the Frontera Corozal border and Flores. First of all, the bizarre crossing involved stamping out of Mexico on one side of the Usumacinta River, crossing the body of water by boat, then taking a twenty minute bus journey to a little house in the middle of nowhere and stamping into Guatemala. The immigration building looked like an oversized outhouse. Not to mention that the twenty minutes it took us to get there meant we were kind of in no-mans-land type territory. It was also the most hassle-free border crossing I’ve ever encountered. We took a bathroom break and exchanged our Pesos for Quetzals while an array of ducklings, dogs and cats roamed around our feet. 

Onwards, the bus jumped and hopped about the road, past fields of brightly dressed Guatemalans tending their crops, carrying bulging fresh vegetable baskets on their heads. This is a land where chickens roam free and the odd peacock may sprint across the road. Groups of children stared at our white faces as we blurred by, knowing that we were different, excited by the exotic.

Abundance of watermelons 

Content to be travelling with warm air whipping through the open windows, I could feel the dust settling in my matted curls. I dozed and reminisced of my time in South-East Asia, just for a moment, before waking up and returning to this new continent I was ready to explore. 

So there I was, just passing through Guatemala; a quick two day stint. Ridiculous, I know. So I can’t really give you much detail about the country itself, but I can tell you that you should definitely go to Tikal. It isn’t one of the new Seven World Wonders like Chichén Itzá (see Mexico post #2), but it is one hundred percent worth visiting. It is a Mayan ruin in the middle of the jungle. Why wouldn’t you want to explore somewhere that boasts magical misty mornings and the sightings of monkeys?

Gran Plaza of Tikal

I’ll start with the boring bits. When you get to Flores or Santa Elena, a lot of tour companies try to sell you the ‘sunrise’ and ‘sunset’ tours. They cost around twenty bucks for transport and a guide, but that does not include your entrance fees into the park. That will set you back another thirty-three bucks. It very much depends on the time of year as to whether it’s worth doing the sunrise or sunset, because if the sky is dull and clouds are abundant, there won’t be either phenomenon for you to enjoy.  

The day I went, I spent thirty-three US dollars on transport, tour guide and entrance fee. I got to the park at six in the morning and the guide took us around until about ten-thirty. After the tour we were given the freedom to walk around the park with several shuttle options back to Flores. This, in my opinion, is the best deal. I would have been completely wasting my money if I’d booked the sunrise tour, because the dense fog completely hindered any view of the promised pretty reds and yellows that are advertised at every corner in Flores.

The highlight of Tikal is walking up the very convenient wooden staircase to the top of sixty-four metre high Templo IV. We did this around seven-thirty in the morning and were greeted with a heavy mist-cloud that hid the entire site. Staring peacefully into the white abyss, I started hearing gasps and murmurs from the rest of the tour group. The cloud was dispersing and the wonders of Tikal emerged in slow-motion, like a blooming flower on a crisp spring morning. I watched as Templo I, II and III revealed themselves, peaking out above the jungle canopy. The Mayans certainly knew how to create breathtaking views of their sacred spaces. We stayed atop that temple until the clouds – the mystical dew of the canopy – completely disappeared and all that could be seen was the perfect partnership of unruly forest and crumbling ruins.

View of Templo I, II and III from Templo IV

Besides those wow moments when you go to world famous ancient sites, there are often little exciting wildlife surprises that crop up, for example, when exploring the small-scale ruins of Tulum in Mexico, I came across a number of wild sunbathing iguanas, which, for someone who has always wanted her own cold-blooded critter, was a creature comfort bonus. But what I saw in Tikal was actually spine tinglingly, stomach churningly, (disclaimer – I made this word up. But it fits, and I like it) disgusting. I give you, the wild king of the eight legged world:

Wild tarantula 

Yep. My insides screwed up like a discarded Coke can. I simply cannot comprehend why this group of people would want to hold that fuzzy black… thing. I feel sick as I am writing this paragraph. So I am done.

On the plus side, Tikal’s jungle is also home to mischievous monkeys that are prime entertainment while you prop yourself against a tree and relax with your lunch.

Behind Templo II

If you intend to visit the ruins, you should stay on the pretty idyllic island of Flores. Don’t worry, you don’t have to think about getting a boat to an island with your twenty kilo backpack, you can just hop on a tuktuk from the bus station and ride across the bridge from the mainland. Simple.

The promenade of Flores

If you’re on a budget, like my backpacker wallet, don’t fret. There’s a couple of hostels on the island that are super affordable. Just don’t expect hot water at Yaxha. There is a sign in the bathroom that says the water is heated by the shower head. It isn’t. In fact, don’t expect hot water in Central America. Full stop. Oh apart from Costa Rica, you might be lucky there.

Flores is a small island that you can stroll around in roughly twenty to thirty minutes. If you make your way to the West, you can buy a colourful plate of salads, salsas and tortillas for as little as ten quetzals (the equivalent of one pound) and a massive slab of homemade cake for the same price. You can then sit on the steps, listen to the water lapping against the shore and the soft clunk of the moored boats against the wall. If you’re lucky, and the weather is playing fair, you will witness the sky as it transcends from blue, to orange, to a black canvas of stars.

Watching the sunset in Flores

At six o’ clock the following morning, I left Guatemala and continued towards the island of Utila in Honduras. Everyone I have spoken to on the other side of those two magical days, has said that I’ve missed way too much. What a shame, I will just have to come back.

This post was written to the buzz of backpacker conversations in a hostel in Granada, Nicaragua. 

Chichén Itzá – A wonder of the modern world

As mentioned in my previous post about Mexico, I zipped across the country to Cancun in order to explore the Yucatan Peninsula, not, I repeat, not, to experience the famous Coco Bongo nightclub in Zona Hotelera. I often say to myself, ‘just do it, when are you going to be in this corner of the world again?’, but any backpacker who pays eighty bucks for a ticket (not including drinks), is utterly bongo bonkers in my opinion. I’m not normally negative in my blog posts, but Zona Hotelera is a big, commercial, expensive, hot mess. This wasn’t one of those ‘just do it’ moments.

Outside Coco Bongo

I admit that we weren’t entirely cultural when we arrived in Cancun. Some fellow travellers and I sailed straight to Isla Mujeres for a day trip to the beach. The sun was out to play, and the sea was waving, enticing us with its twinkly surface and clear visibility. A beautiful combination after ten days in the sporadically changing climate of Mexico City, where, by the way, I managed to catch my first hostel-induced cold, so the vitamin D was a welcome change.

Sunset at Isla Mujeres

As lovely as drinking frozen piña coladas on a tropical island was, it was back to the mainland for a decent night of sleep. We had some more important matters to attend to. Visiting Chichén Itzá.

The tiresome four hour bus journey took us across a time zone, so we managed to gain an extra hour inside the ruins, which was definitely needed. The site is doable in a day, but it’s very spread out, and not as shady as some of the other ruins around Mexico, so be prepared. A word of advice: pack sun cream, plenty of water, and some snacks; there are no food stalls inside.

My first impression, as we walked down a path lined with local merchants selling the usual cheap knock-off ceramic Mayan calendars, was that it was a total tourist trap. But picture this – stroll down the middle of the path, ignore the desperate voices of, ‘you like magnets lady? Very cheap, almost one dollar’, and emerge into an open green majestic plaza. Standing proud in the middle of the complex is the the twenty-four meter tall Kukulkan Pyramid, also known as, El Castillo. 

El Castillo at the end of the day – not a tourist in sight

It was granted the status of a Modern Wonder in 2007. And I can see why. In its current 2016 state, the towering temple looks immaculately preserved. With a little internet research, I discovered that, as the result of a tragic accident, the pyramid’s staircase was officially closed to the public in 2006. After years of tourists trudging up and down the monument in their thousands, the inevitable wear and tear of the steps began to take its toll, and eventually, a woman slipped on a smooth stone and fell to her death.

On one hand, I am pleased that the importance of health and safety, and the longevity of the Pyramid, has been taken seriously after this incident. But I can’t help feeling disappointed that I am unable to explore the temple that rests atop the structure, to visit the red jaguar throne inside. However, as someone who likes to practise and encourage eco-tourism, I understand that the earth’s natural elements alone can be enough of an unforgivable force when it comes to the act of preservation, let alone the unnecessary heavy stomps of tourist crowds.

You’ll spot various preserved carvings all over Chichén Itzá

Besides, there’s plenty more to see around this ancient city. My favourite ruin was Gran Juego de Pelota (Great Ball Court), probably because I’m a massive rugby-nut and I love a good stadium. Apparently, (I say this because it was impossible to test the theory with so many people milling around) if you talk at one end of the court, a person stood at the other end will be able to hear you. Many people have attempted to fathom the secrets behind the acoustics of this special sports ground, but to this day, it remains a mystery. The court itself is two hundred and twenty-five feet wide, and five hundred feet long.

The length of the ball court. Photo courtesy of Ben Norris.

Many different games have been played on these grounds over the years, but the aim of the most well-known version, was to shoot a rubber ball into the stone hoops that are carved into each of the longest sides of the court. Competitors were not allowed to use their hands, so it is believed that they passed the ball between their hips, and possibly used their elbows and knees. Did I mention that the hoops were so high that the game was virtually impossible? Although it was played for fun, it was often played for ritualistic purposes. Research indicates that the captain of the losing team would be presented with the task of decapitating the captain of the winning team. Crazy right? Well not to the Mayans, for they believed that winning was the ultimate honour, and so you were rewarded with the pathway to peaceful heaven through a simple sacrificial ceremony.

Oh, the losing team were sacrificed too. Because they lost.

The ‘goal’ hoop and the ‘royal box’ of the ball court. Photo courtesy of Ben Norris.

Beyond the wow factor of El Castillo and the shocking facts of the ball court, Chichén Itzá has so many beautiful ruins to explore. Interestingly, the naturally formed Cenote Sagrado (Sacred Cenote) was also used for sacrificial ceremonies. According to my trusty Lonely Planet Central America on a Shoestring guidebook, archaeological dive expeditions have uncovered human remains of those that were forced to jump into the ‘eternal underworld’.

Cenote Sagrado

These historical sites would not be complete without a carving or two, so if you have the opportunity to visit these sacred grounds, don’t miss the Grupo de las Mil Columnas (Group of a Thousand Columns). Take your time, and look closely at the Mayan handicraft as you wander through the labyrinth of ruins. You should be able to decipher a number of Gods and Mayan warriors within the artistic scars of the stone.

Grupo de las Mil Columnas

I am very fortunate to have been able to experience a modern world wonder, and shall endeavour to visit as many, if not all, in my lifetime. Oh, and I was with two awesome, like-minded travellers, which always makes a day of touring even more rewarding.

Posing outside El Caracol (The Observatory) with Ben Norris, Andrés Home and Morgan Bear. Note: Andrés’ peace sign is not to be confused with the English meaning…

This post was written to the sound of an overly excited Spanish football commentator and the ear-splitting screams of a Costa Rican female supporter, complete with bright yellow football kit.

Teotihuacan – my first glimpse into the Pre-Hispanic

Like most tours, we were first taken to a place just outside Teotihuacan so we could be taught about different Mexican handicrafts from around the region. This type of inclusion is normally to encourage you to spend money on their premises, and don’t get me wrong, it was, but then we were also shown the many uses of the agave plant, which I, naturally, mis-took for an aloe vera plant. 

A species of maguey (agave) – the magical plant of many properties

I often use agave sweetener in my own cooking, but what I didn’t realise is that it is also used in the production of Mexico’s most favourite tipples, mezcal (a variety of tequila), and pulque, a milky-white liquor. Mezcal is produced by cooking the heart of the agave, primarily the Agave Azul, whereas pulque is mainly brewed via a fermentation process of the sap from six different types of maguey (agave).  

Stripping the leaf to make a sheet of paper

The plant itself has a very sharp tip at the end of its thick green leaves, which can be extracted simply by pulling it out. The whole needle emerges complete with the thread dangling down. The leaves can also be stripped down and used in cooking, or as paper, ropes and fabrics. None of the plant is wasted. Genius.

Needle and thread from the leaf of the agave

I can’t speak for everyone in the group, but I personally found all this rather fascinating, that is, until we had the opportunity to sample their indigenous pulque, which left a bitter yeast taste in my mouth. I was advised that it tastes better when accompanied with fruits or other added beverages, but I’m still not convinced.

After a quick tour around the silver and pottery artisan workshops, we were ushered into the obligatory shop selling local handmade crafts. One person was tempted into the world of Mezcal and purchased a bottle, but beyond that, they received nada from us.

On arrival at the ancient city of Teotihuacan, we were greeted by the ear-splitting sound of a distressed jaguar. Local street vendors wandered around the site trying to sell these wooden whistles that created the hideous sound. It took quite a lot of polite willpower not to ask them to bugger off. I don’t mind people trying to sell me bracelets, or sunglasses, or even a hammock – although how most backpackers are supposed to be able to store them while travelling around the world is beyond me – but these whistles didn’t even sound like a jaguar. Anyway, I did my best to block out the cacophony of howls so I could listen to the guide as he attempted to explain the history of Teotihuacan using the best English he could muster. 

Tourists and street vendors at the site entrance

And what a fascinating place to explore. Teotihuacan is an ancient Pre-Columbian (literally translates to ‘before Christopher Columbus) city that was built entirely by hand, though the origins of its developers remains a mystery. Evidence suggests that the site was abandoned around seven-hundred and fifty BC, and then claimed by the Aztecs, although Mayan and Zapotec texts have been discovered around the site.

The ruined city

The main attractions of the ancient city are the Pyramid of the Sun and the Moon, and the Temple of the God, Quetzalcoatl.

A geek’s aside: if you grew up playing the video game, Final Fantasy VIII, you’ll remember the use of this mythical creature as a powerful lightning force. True to the game’s representation, the God was depicted as a bird slash rattlesnake hybrid who’s name literally translates as ‘emerald plumed serpent’. However, it is suggested that he was the God of wind and rain, not lightning. He was also believed to be the God that created mankind and the calendar.

When you first enter the grounds, you come to the Temple of Quetzalcoatl himself. It is an outstandingly well preserved pyramid that you cannot climb, but there is a viewing platform for you to admire the façade. Somehow, many of the alternating sculptures of the plumed serpent and the crocodile head, complete with headdress, have survived the unkind years of human destruction and natural weathering. This type of admirable artwork often gives me goosebumps. I stand there and imagine who might have carved them, and how long it would have taken to capture the deities in such vivid three dimensional detail.

The astonishingly preserved Pyramid of the Plumed Serpent

Next stop is the Pyramid of the Sun. Visitors are invited to climb the steep steps to the very top of this structure in order to get a birds-eye view of the whole site, which is obviously very cool, but still not my favourite part of the tour. 

Pyramid of the Sun

Atop the Pyramid of the Sun – enjoying the view of the Pyramid of the Moon

Even though you’re only able to climb up to the first platform of the Temple of the Moon, from this point, you are presented with a perfect view of the entire city and the Avenue of the Dead. Some believe it was named this due to the tomb-like structures lining the road, but if you ask me, which I wouldn’t, because I’m not a historian, it was more likely because of the many sacrificial religious rituals and offerings that were made in the area. 

View from the Pyramid of the Moon – The Avenue of the Dead

Under the Pyramid of the Moon alone, archaeologists have discovered several human sacrifices, including children, at the base of the structure. If you’re into a bit of gore, head to the Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City to view the remains of those unfortunate souls.


I could have stood at the top of the Moon for the rest of the afternoon, just staring down the avenue and picturing the thousands that once lived there. But alas! Lunchtime was calling, so the guide ushered us back into the van and sped us towards the overpriced restaurant a few kilometres away. I refused to pay for the expensive not very appetising all-you-can-eat buffet and opted to try a lovely bowl of cactus soup instead. Delicious.

This post was written to the sounds of Maroon 5 during a nine hour bus journey from Granada in Nicaragua, to San José in Costa Rica.

Why did I choose Mexico City?

If I’m perfectly honest, when I was planning my trip (which pretty much involved deciding on the cheapest one-way flight I could find), I had no intention of going to Mexico. My original idea, was to head straight back towards South-East Asia, where prices are cheap and I could dive for next to nothing. My travel compass swiftly changed when I made the last minute decision to book a flight to Toronto and spend 3 months split between Canada and the USA.

It was all thanks to my fabulous French friend, Charlie (the proudest French person I know), had planned to visit Mexico City in October of twenty-sixteen, so I decided to follow his lead and fly down from New York City. It would have been a wasted opportunity for us to be on the same side of the world and not see each other. He did, after all, attend my party in the UK before I left for my year of travels. And I am so grateful that he suggested I join him. What a beautifully interesting city. 

My favourite building – Casa de los Azulejos (House of Tiles)

Like most countries in the world, the capital city is generally the place that you spend the night and leave on the first bus the following day. Expect for London. Everyone seems to love London. Anyway, Mexico City is the polar opposite. It is abuzz with crumbling architecture, cheap local roadside eateries (oh, those tacos) and accommodating, super friendly people. In fact, the nature of the Mexicans was one of the reasons I extended my intended stay. Everyone wants to get to know you, even if your Spanish is particularly terrible – guilty – they will try to have a broken conversation because they are genuinely interested in who you are and where you come from. 

Helping a local with his English project for school

I was very lucky to be in that amazing city during Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). I did not experience the ambience of attending a cemetery during the festival, but I did go to the parade on the twenty-ninth of October. Apparently, it was the first year that they conducted the event, as it was inspired by the famous James Bond movie, Spectre. 

Amazing costume effort by the locals

It felt like the entire population of Mexico City had come out to enjoy the new fiesta of native dancing, creepy costumes and the deep bass of Spanish music. Well done Bond, you’ve started something special. 

A float from the parade

Beyond the colourful wreaths of flowers, and competitions of oversized pan de muerto (bread of the dead, or ‘dead bread’ according to America) offerings, is an architect’s dream. You could explore the streets of Centro Historico for weeks and still come across a different church or even a ruined piece of lost Aztec heritage. Im going to give you a brief lesson to explain why the ruins of this city provide such a vibrant, if a little complicated, Mexican history.  

Mexico City was once the ancient capital of Tenochtitlan. The Aztecs and the present citizens share the same appreciation for the centre of the city, known today as the Zócalo. It is one of the biggest main square’s in the world and has been used for ceremonial purposes, religious festivals and celebrations; true to form, it is where the Day of the Dead Parade finished and the musical fiesta began. 

 Zócalo – Day of the Dead Festival shrines in front of the Catedral Metropolitana de la Ciudad de Mexico (Metropolitan Cathedral of the City of Mexico)

Adjacent to the Zócalo is the ruin of Templo Mayor. Originally, this was the location that the Aztecs considered to be the centre of the universe; all according to legend, of course, as is the popular phrase in many Central American museums. Unfortunately, I do not have a photo to post because I think it’s on my camera, not my phone, however, this website offers more in depth information and shares an image of what historians believe the site looked like when it was constructed.

A common theme that appears in the history of this archeological dream-world, is that many of Central America’s ancient cities were overthrown by greater forces. For example, the Aztecs conquered the Mayans and muscled them out of their homes. Many ancient treasures of this world have been lost due to years of pillaging, or piracy, or, in a strange not-quite-justified kind of way, recycling. This brings me back to our modern day plaza in Mexico City, the Zócalo. After the conquest over the Aztecs in fifteen-twenty-one, the Spanish disassembled the beloved centre of the universe, Templo Mayor, and used its bricks to pave the Zócalo plaza. This savage destruction is peppered throughout all of Central America’s history. Templo Mayor is now a museum and a sad looking archeological site tucked away behind the beautifully decaying Cathedral. If you were touring the city, and didn’t know of it’s presence, you would probably miss it. 

Another stunning piece of architecture in the city is the picture perfect, front cover dominating, Palacio de Bellas Artes. This museum mainly houses art collections, but also has a permanent exhibition featuring models and photographs that depict the work of Mexican architects.

The front of Palacio de Bellas Artes

 I did not visit the museum itself due to time constraints (as per usual), but I did go to the free tour of the fully functioning theatre inside. Now this was something special. This is where you can watch performances of the Ballet Folklorico de Mexico and of the National Symphonic Orchestra. Sitting on one of those soft red velvety chairs in the audience, I looked up at the heavy marble walls and intriguing safety curtain hiding the stage. That curtain alone weighs twenty-seven tonnes. Built by Tiffany and Company of New York, it is a mosaic made from a million tiny pieces of crystal to create a shimmering stained-glass-effect masterpiece of a Mexican valley. The image features two active volcanoes, Popocatepetl and Iztacchihuatl, both of which can be found bubbling away South of Mexico City, in the state of Puebla. 

Tiffany’s marvellous crystal creation – the lighting inside wasn’t the best for amateur photographer skills

Fun fact – Mexico City was originally built on lake Texcoco. Because of this, the immense weight of the marble structure and the Tiffany curtain are a heavy burden for Bellas Artes, resulting in the loss of two to three centimetres of the building each year, as it sinks into the earth. 

An example of the marble inside the theatre – my photos do not do it justice

So, I spent ten wonderfully jam-packed days of exploring Mexico City and its surrounding delights. And believe me, this was still not enough time. Fortunately, The airport tends to be a very cheap destination to fly into as it is an international connecting hub, so hopefully I’ll find my way back there one day. Actually I know I will. I completely intend to. It is a city with surprise around every corner, so don’t be afraid to explore side streets, local markets and buildings, just check with the security guard on the door that you’re allowed inside first!

Inside the post office – I fell in love with the iron staircase and elevator

My original intention after this was to head straight to the famous Tikal ruins of Guatemala, but something kept me anchored to that smoky taco-pregnant country for a few days more. With a cheap ticket to Cancun purchased, I got on the easiest Metro in the whole world (they have pictures for each stop) and made my way to the airport. 

Cancun Airport – Get yourself a cheeky cocktail before you get on the bus to Cancun

This post was written to the sounds of orchestral Nicaraguan street music and deafening bangs of fireworks at six-thirty in the morning. 

My Love Affair with Washington DC

A pleasant surprise

When I booked a one-way ticket to Toronto, I thought, okay, I’ll start off slow, take some time out, visit some friends, a couple of weeks in Canada, a month or so in New York City, then get back into the grit of backpacking, head to South America, and get my relaxed self back into the crazy world of hosteling. Three months later and I’ve visited 4 Canadian States and 10 US States. This is way more than I bargained for, and it’s all down to the amazing accommodating friends that I have visited, all of which are now family to me. So thank you to everyone that has been part of this not so relaxed whirlwind.

Don’t worry, the reason I’m writing to you today isn’t to present you with a soppy Oscar speech, it’s to reflect on my favourite place so far.

During a trip to my friend David’s hometown in Virginia, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to visit Washington DC on three occasions. Naturally, I was desperate to see the monuments. David’s sister, Katie, drove us to a parking garage near the Capitol Building so we could loop around the whole National Mall. She warned me that it would be a lot of walking, but this didn’t phase a Fitbit obsessive who tends to avoid any transport that does not involve using her own legs.

The Capitol Building, like most of the monuments, is a bright white structure supported by an array of columns. It’s situated directly opposite the Lincoln Memorial at the other end of the National Mall. It’s a pretty building, but it doesn’t have the ‘wow factor’ for me, probably because you can’t get close enough to really appreciate the architecture.

Capitol Building

I do however, recommend checking out the Botanic Garden. Guarding the entrance to the conservatory, is a wiggly brown tentacled metal sculpture. It reminded me of a kraken or mythical creature from a Japanese Anime, but really it just represents the roots of a tree. You may have to patiently wait for a class of school children to stop climbing all over it to get a good photo, though. Inside, the garden is sectioned off into different categories of plants/areas of the world, like a mini version of Cornwall’s Eden Project. Did you know that cocoa pods actually grow from the trunk of the tree? I also found it amusing that they were growing Cabbage on a Stick and Pumpkin on a Stick. High five America.

Cabbage on a Stick

Pumpkin-on-a-Stick

After our short trip around the natural world, we continued our historic journey until we came to a tired, yet fully functional, carousel. This extra-ordinary carousel marked the end of segregation when eleven month old, African American, Sharon Langley, took a whirl on that magical roundabout; the same day that Martin Luther King, Jr belted out his, I have a dream, speech. The carousel is now enjoyed by people of all ages, shapes, sizes, colours, cultures… Everyone! This history was all very interesting and serious, until I read the first of the Rider Rules:

That was it. Game over. Hilarity won.

I feel very fortunate that I was able to explore DC with someone who had worked in the area and has an true interest in its history. The passion that Katie has for sharing her knowledge is infectious. I could feel my brain sponge working overtime to absorb as much information as possible, eager to make the most of my private tour.

Now we’ll move onto the good stuff. You can pretty much see the Washington Monument from anywhere in the city. DC law states that no building is permitted to be constructed taller than the five hundred and fifty-five foot obelisk; so you won’t find a stuffy high rise metropolis here. One of my favourite facts about the monument is that it is two-toned in colour. Six years after the commencement of the construction in 1848, it was halted due to lack of funding. Around a quarter of it had been completed. The money sucking American Civil War pushed the construction back even further. It wasn’t until 1884 that the monument was completed, and on 21 February 1885, it was dedicated to the first President of the United States, Mr George Washington. The bottom quarter of the obelisk is a darker stone than the rest of the structure due to the elapsed time and different sources of marble used; a constant reminder/symbol of the wartime effect.

Morgan Bear loved the iconic obelisk

A post about Washington DC would not be worth the read if good ol’ Lincoln and Jefferson were not discussed. Towards the other end of the National Mall, we came to a fork in our path. A bit of extra walking wasn’t going to deter a Fitbit freak like me, so we opted for the route that opens out onto the track that loops around the Tidal Basin of Potomac Park. Towering above the edge of the North bank is the gift of Japan – cherry blossom trees. Katie excitedly described the Spring season where they would bloom, unashamedly admiring their own pink reflections in the water below. Directly opposite, is the Jefferson Memorial. Proudly tucked away from the buzzing centre of the touristic city, Jefferson stands tall in his own columned castle. I was shocked to find that there were not many people milling about on the steps, enjoying the view of the Washington Monument from afar. Apparently, a lot of tourists don’t venture to this area because of the added walking distance. I wasn’t complaining.

Jefferson Memorial

The biggie, the one that everyone swarms to, like shoppers to a Black Friday sale, is the Lincoln Memorial. I proudly admit that I was one of the masses, happily chatting about the famous scene from Forrest Gump, recalling that time I ate Bubba Gump Shrimp in Las Vegas and taking my souvenir selfie of the Reflection Pool. We chilled on the cool steps, taking our time to imprint the memory of this monumental place. Children fed snacks to the fat ducks bobbing at the edge of the pool, locals obliviously jogged past, miming to their motivational running tracks, teens jumped in unison for a cheesy Facebook cover photo. Luckily, we had arrived at the time of a very rare tourist lull. It was not overly crowded in the memorial and I was able to have my picture taken with the big guy, completely on my own (with Morgan Bear), without having to queue. Not like the time it took me half an hour to take a photo of New York City’s Raging Bull.

Lincoln Memorial

We completed our tour of the iconic National Mall with congratulatory cocktails and a hearty meal of my first ever juicy mound of meatloaf (oh, my… just wow) in Old Ebbitt Grill. Before leaving, I made sure to take a photo of the original Walrus head famously bagged by President Teddy Roosevelt.

Aside: I was a little disappointed that we could not see the Whitehouse during that first day trip, as the whole area was closed off for an unknown reason. Fortunately I was able to visit during my second and third trip to DC in the week to follow. The best time to tour the monuments is definitely at night. I was like a child at Christmas, running from one to the other, eyes wide at the ghostly white marble against the black backdrop. It was a chilly evening and not many people were around. We almost had the moment to ourselves.

Our serene moment at the World War II Memorial

As we drove back to Reston, Virginia, I pictured my own Washington city lifestyle – I would stretch out my limbs each morning, prepping for a lap around the National Mall, eat lunches on the green, attend exhibitions in the museums, read under the cherry blossoms. My day-dreaming triggered a strange comforting feel. This was a place I could, possibly, call home, one day. I never thought I’d think this way about a city, but DC isn’t like hyper populated, claustrophobic London or New York. It is the equivalent of the United Kingdom’s artistic culture hub, Bristol, which I greatly missed, until I was introduced to this marble historic playground.

This post was written to the Spanish sounds of Mexico City at night and the pumping base of the upstairs club in Hostel Centro Historico Regina.

Slow down. Just for a minute.

Peaceful is not a word to describe New York City.

If it isn’t commuters bashing you with briefcases on the Metro (polite apologies aplenty up and down the carriages), it’s tourists elbowing you as they open their magic-carpet maps, dutifully guiding them to landmarks; checking off their city must-sees before they catch the red-eye back to reality. Visiting The Big Apple? Check out our 3-day, 5-day and 7-day itineraries, ‘we’ll fill every moment, don’t worry!’.

Why do we do this? This rushing thing? Why are we late more often than not? Why don’t we give ourselves enough time to actually enjoy? Of course I’m using the Royal ‘we’, because fourteen days into my city trip, and I’m still a culprit of this tangle of tube chasing, pretzel scoffing, sight cramming madness. I have lists on top of lists on top of lists. Go here this day, see that another day, do this when it’s raining.

Then something made me stop.

I emerged from Cortlandt St Metro station and hurried towards the end of the queue. After a forty-five minute wait in the sunshine, I was given my free ticket. I made my donation and slipped on the complimentary wrist band to prove I’d been generous.

I had forty minutes to spare until my ticket would be valid, so I wandered. I wasn’t really aware of which direction I should go, but already knew that I needed to walk slowly, take everything in. And then I understood. I’d been on it the whole time.

Ground Zero.

This is where it all happened, fifteen years ago.

If you take a trip to NYC, do not leave without meandering through the memorial ground. Stay a while. Listen to the water, the only entity that should be rushing, gushing over the edges of the twin reflecting pools. Walk around each one, touch the names lasered into the cool bronze. Whether or not you know them individually, you’ll still connect with them as one, as a nation. You’ll look up and envisage those legendary Twin Towers, building a picture brick by brick in your mind. You’ll imagine standing in the shadows of their glass walls as they block out the sun. Today though, the sky is open and the sun continues to warm you into the early hours of the evening. In terms of square foot, this may not be the most open space in the city, but it sure feels like it should be.

You might arrive at this sacred place with every intention of waltzing through those museum doors, eager to learn and immerse yourself in the tales of all those affected; from police dogs labouring through embers and rubble, to lives lost and left behind. But when it’s time for you to put one foot in front of the other and join the back of the five o’clock line, you might realise that you don’t want to. But that’s okay. You don’t have to go to the museum. Nobody is judging you. That’s the beauty of this memorial. You’re already there, sucked in by the empty space, standing in that grove of trees and running water; you can sense the heat, the dust, the noise.

You might reflect on your own life. Your own experiences. Regrets. Faults. Bad choices. The epiphany that none of it matters. Because here you are, breathing fresh air. Alive.

This post was written to the sound of Bastille’s twenty-sixteen album, Wild World.