Last week, I listened to harrowing tales of bygone diamond conflicts and civil wars as I resumed my muddy trudge along the Atlantic Coast. This week, I continue my education as I sit in despots’ cars and tyrants swimming pools before rounding the bulge of West Africa and venture eastwards.
Last week, I continued my journey south through three extraordinary West African nations until my beleaguered arrival in the Guinean conurbation of Conakry. This week, I follow the coast from capital to capital, visiting countries with recent histories they would rather forget.
Last week, I began my African adventure in earnest, as I went island and visa hopping around the Senegalese capital. This week, I attempt to intersect three extraordinary countries, as the road (and my T-shirt tan) worsens by the day.
Well, here we go. Welcome curious souls to my latest ridiculous escapade through foreign lands. Over the next three months (or eighty-two days to be exact), I plan on keeping you mildly amused with tales backpacking through Sub-Saharan Africa. From the emerging coastal capitals on the Atlantic to the vast deserted in-land nations of the Sahara, this trip will test my resolve (and patience) unlike any other!
Good day folks! If there's one thing travelling is good for it is to dispel (or confirm) the many lazy stereotypes we pick up about different places and people over the course of our lives. Having completed a three-month backpack through Central America and Mexico, without being sold into a drug cartel, I would like to take this opportunity to address some of the common misconceptions that people hold (mainly Americans) about the region.
Last week, I escaped the tourist throngs of Tulum by haggling for space cakes with a vagrant on a Mexican beach. This week would be my last, as I savoured the final few days of my voyage in the capital, before boarding a Boeing back to Britain.
Last week, I explored the enigmatic nation of Belize – surviving encounters with stingrays, sharks and, even more terrifyingly, Queen Elizabeth II. This week, I ate El Chapo's weight in tacos and tortillas as I went cenote-hopping and ruin-trekking along Mexico’s trendy tail.
Last week, I got moist in a large river and moister in a larger lake before travelling the height of Guatemala in search of some forested relics. This week belongs to Belize, as I spent the week travelling through a miniature corner of the Caribbean – patting sharks and consuming crustaceans along the way.
Last week, I spluttered and scrambled my way to the highpoint, and highlight, of my Central American voyage (and possibly of all my travels) thus far: the summit of Volcan de Acatenango. This week would be my last in Guatemala (and last with dipsomaniac companions Tuur and Bri), as we let our barnets down by a lake before I went in search of Mayans in the mystical north.
Last week, I spotted some elaborate plumage amongst ancient ruins (no not Elton John and David Furnish), before enduring an inordinate number of hours of local transport to reach a surfing utopia. This week is all about volcanoes, as I set myself the biggest challenge I will face on my entire journey: to get within marshmallow-toasting range of Fuego – one of the most active beasts in the world.
