​Welcome to a special one-off blog post! Here, I chronicle my weeklong trip to El Salvador in March 2025 for the wedding of my friends Gavin and Katherine. I met Gavin back in high school through the Speech & Debate team. His fiancée (now wife) Katherine grew up in El Salvador. The couple had two wedding celebrations, one in El Salvador and one in California. Traveling to El Salvador for the first event was a unique opportunity to spend quality time with friends and experience this country for the first time.

​Before the trip, El Salvador brought to mind pupusas (the cheese-stuffed savory pancakes) and the gang MS-13. As I started my research, the country's embrace of Bitcoin and President Bukele's crackdown on gang activity were intriguing points. Between the drop in crime and government's friendliness towards the Trump administration, it seemed like a safe moment to visit as an American tourist.

The journey itself was smooth, a direct flight from San Francisco to San Salvador. The Avianca agent at SFO spoke to me in Spanish, and boarding announcement was exclusively in Spanish. A premonition: this destination would not be catering to English speakers. On the flight, there were a few characters like an older gentleman in the row ahead. He wore two stacked Giants hats, still with tags, and listened to a YouTube Bible reading on speakerphone. I also spotted a younger man wearing a blue Bukele hat.
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On the descent, I was blinded by a beautiful sunrise, squinted at the shadows of volcanoes obscured by the haze, and scanned the coastline. I answered a few standard questions at immigration. On the way out of customs, I passed a presidential display with portraits of Bukele and the first lady. Nice to meet you, El Salvador.

Katherine had kindly arranged a taxi to the city for me. Daniel was the driver's name, raised in San Salvador, father of two. He was a skilled driver, having learned the art at age 13. I asked him a few questions about the country, and learned the reduction in "delicuencia" (crime) was good for taxi business. However, his accent was hard for me to understand. I think he said something about the gangs demanding most of the taxi profits, but I'm not sure. My impression was he wasn't used to fielding questions from curious travelers.

The morning commute traffic was awful. Weaving between buses and slow cars was the least scary part. Every onramp merge was a game of chicken, with conflicting vehicles mere inches apart. Motorcycles somehow slipped between the cracks. Overcrowded buses breezed through stops, leaving passengers in the dust, to await the next one in 40 minutes. Roundabouts were a free-for-all, a case study of turbulent flow. Daniel mentioned that in order to make it to work at 8am, he had to leave home at 5:30am. A similar rule applied to his kids' school buses. I thought of all the lost human potential: the hours wasted in traffic or in anticipation of it. On the 1.5 hour drive, one source of entertainment was the variety of painted buses, known to foreigners as “chicken buses.” These old school buses, presumably offloaded from the US, have been reincarnated with unapologetic colors, bold numbers, and cartoon mascots.

​We slogged through the city, past the soccer stadium and a dizzying number of fast food chains, from foreign imports like Pizza Hut to local favorites like Pollo Campero. Suddenly, we turned down a side street and the chaos flipped off. We were in the Zona Rosa, a safe neighborhood popular with tourists. The guard at the complex gate didn't immediately let the taxi through. I appreciated the scrutiny.
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The AirBNB was spacious, with three bedrooms and three bathrooms. My room had purple curtains that pleasantly glowed in the afternoon sun. The living room overlooked a side street with a giant pink bougainvillea, a mango tree, and another fruit tree that Gavin and I couldn’t identify despite looking at the fallen fruit on the sidewalk.

​​The kitchen was basic, but at least the microwave and coffee machine were working. We learned that the previous guests stayed for a month without taking out the trash. The traumatized AirBNB host had called in an exterminator to clean the place up before we arrived, but warned us about residual roaches. We saw a few, but Gavin and I weren’t fazed – it was the tropics after all.

When I arrived, Gavin was prepared with takeout food in the fridge. I got to enjoy the inaugural pupusas mere hours into the trip. Katherine stopped by, and we had an extended conversation about restaurants worth trying. We agree to meet for lunch. I unpacked and napped for a bit.

​Uber is both cheap and convenient in San Salvador. While I tend to avoid it back home, it was a lifeline here. For added safety, the app required us to provide our driver with a 4 digit PIN from our phone at the beginning of the ride. While Gavin doesn’t speak much Spanish, he was quite acclimated to this interaction and confidently read out the PIN every time we entered the car.

We arrived at Pollo Campero (“Country Chicken”), a local favorite fast food chain that people often bring on plane flights leaving the country. I later learned it’s a Guatemalan chain, and competitor to the Salvadoran version, the similar-sounding Pollo Campestre (also, “Country Chicken.”) Gavin and I arrived before Katherine and her sister Andrea, and we started placing an order. I explained it was my first time there in attempt to garner sympathy, but the waitress wasn’t very helpful. Trying to figure out their dizzying combos, what sides and sauces were eligible for each one, substitute drinks, etc. was a stretch for my jet-lagged Spanish. Thankfully Katherina and Andrea arrived, both native speakers, and helped us complete the order. The chicken and sauces were both excellent. We also tried some flan for dessert, accompanied by black coffee and cheap plastic spoons.

​Even though we were full, we couldn’t resist the pastries at Ban Ban across the street. We had semita (a strudel-like dessert), a Salvadoran quesadilla (a cornbread-like disc made with cheese), and a coconut-flavored marshmallow sandwich that was mistakenly brought. And there were many more baked goods in the arsenal! My sweet tooth was excited to try them all.

​Next, we picked up groceries at the nearby Super Selectos. I gravitated to the fruit and alcohol sections, so our basket ended up with papaya, jocote, maracuyá juice, craft beer, and local rum. Jocote was a new find for me – it had thin edible skin like a grape, and a tangy yellow interior (with a pit) just like a mango. We forgot to get our fruit weighed before arriving at the checkout and were scolded.

​With several giant water bottles in hand, we piled into the Uber and returned to the AirBNB. At sunset, I went to the roof of the apartment complex. The silhouette of the volcanic ridge peeked over the skyscrapers. A jarringly modern Google building also stood out.

For dinner, the four of us met up at a seafood restaurant. Gavin and I arrived first. We climbed a poorly marked staircase to a dining terrace and asked the host if this was La Hola Beto’s. He gave a confusing answer that made it sound like La Hola and Beto’s were two different places, so we turned away. Upon their arrival, Katherine and Andrea confirmed we had found the correct restaurant. Apparently, the family who owned the restaurant had a schism, and created several similarly named restaurants (“La Ola” and “La Hola”) with identical branding.
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La Hola (or whatever it was called) had an impressive array of ceviches. I ordered the Salvadoran ceviche, which was a classic white fish ceviche with lime and red onion. Andrea had the Peruvian ceviche, which had a yellow sauce and giant corn. Gavin had a whole fried fish. Katherine ordered a seafood cocktail, but unfortunately couldn’t eat it because it included concha, a local black oyster that’s a delicacy but can also poison you with amoebas. Earlier in the day, she had specifically warned me to avoid it – and wasn’t about to risk it before her wedding. At least we all got to share an appetizer called “washimi,” a Salvadoran take on sashimi that included an olive oil drizzle.

​Day 2 of the trip continued the culinary journey through San Salvador. Gavin had a morning obligation, and afterwards, the two of us met for brunch at Biscuit Factory. It was a quaint café with a beautiful courtyard. I had a “desayuno típico” (traditional Salvadoran breakfast) which included eggs, sweet plantains, a dense mound of refried beans, and some light cheese. While Gavin took some work calls, I read a book on Central American history and sipped on a pacamara coffee. I learned this was a special hybrid coffee bean that was invented in El Salvador. My drink came with a card that indicated the coffee farm of origin, plus some tasting notes. It was the smoothest coffee I can remember having – no acidity or aftertaste.

To stretch our legs, Gavin and I walked around a shopping mall called Multiplaza. I browsed a bookstore for local authors, and we ventured into a toy store to check the price of Lego (it was about double the US price). I was surprised to find a Radioshack and a Chuck E Cheese, relics from a bygone era. We stopped at a coffee shop so Gavin could take another meeting. I had a growing sense of unease. The mall was relatively empty, and the average person was dressed a bit nicer than we were. I felt like we stood out just a little too much. We headed back to the AirBNB.

I was pleasantly surprised when Gavin suggested we continue exploring in the Centro Histórico. It was a 30-minute Uber ride across town, and not for the faint of heart. We passed by a truck with a fridge in the back, precariously secured with a single ratchet strap.
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Our first stop was a beautiful church called Iglesia El Rosario. The roof was a giant arc with colorful stained glass, a kaleidoscopic rainbow above. It was bursting with color in the late afternoon sun. There were also some intriguing minimalistic sculptures with scenes from the life of Jesus.

​From there, we walked to the modern National Library, which Gavin told me was funded by Chinese investors. Later on, we heard complaints about the charming buildings that were bulldozed to open up this prime real estate across from the main cathedral. But we couldn’t argue with its impressive design. The rooftop terrace had good views. The inside was beautifully curated with a Star Wars exhibit and video game stations. We also poked our heads inside the yellow walls of the main cathedral across the plaza, which had impressive green pillars and chandeliers.

Our idea of exploring a block or two away from the plaza was quickly nixed when the sidewalks became shoddy and the hustle and bustle of street hawkers became stifling. Although their bags of tomatoes and $2 Bluetooth headphones were tempting, we powered through. However, the Uber we called was unable to follow us into this congested area. The driver told us to meet at the “Ex Cine Apollo,” which we interpreted as the nearby bus station of the same name. In hindsight, it was probably the former location of a movie theater – not locatable on Google Maps. We waited in front of the busy bus station, watching chicken buses and “coasters” (smaller vans) fill up with commuters leaving the city. It was an uncomfortable place to be. Overloaded buses scraped their bumpers on the ramp directly in front of us, while a megaphone at the snack stand behind us blared an unintelligible phrase on a repeat loop. Locals generally seemed uninterested in us, but were still waiting in close proximity. We guarded our pockets and phones. After 15 minutes, the Uber cancelled on us. I urged a speedy return to the plaza.

We found a better pickup spot, and a second Uber was there in a few minutes. However, it was now a battle against commute traffic. At one point, the driver was so frustrated with a slow merge that he circumvented the car ahead, driving almost perpendicular to the flow of traffic. When there’s a will, there’s a lane.
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It was dark when we arrived at Diamante de China. Visiting this restaurant was a personal quest of mine, as it’s owned by my mom’s coworkers’ father-in-law, a Chinese immigrant in El Salvador. The restaurant was large and uncrowded, providing a nice respite from the traffic. Complimentary wontons were served as an appetizer with our beers. We ordered the “Chinese tacos” (burrito-shaped spring rolls), orange chicken, and chow mein. The portions were enormous! We barely made a dent.

I tried to explain the five-degrees-of-separation to the waitress, who was confused but got the gist and went looking for the restaurant owner. As luck would have it, Jessica was around – the sister-in-law of my mom’s coworker. After initially speaking in Spanish, we realized she spoke English and switched so that Gavin could participate (also a relief for my tired brain). Jessica had studied in California at the same community college as one of Gavin’s close friends, so there was an instant connection. We learned the restaurant has been around for 35 years, and that people are ordering less alcohol in response to President Bukele’s strict drunk driving laws. It was so incredibly kind for Jessica to humor the unexpected visit. I hope Gavin can return with Katherine on a future trip!

Hiking the Santa Ana Volcano (Ilamatepec) required an early morning. The tour bus driver showed up promptly at 6:30am. He was a young, long-haired, indigenous-looking, English-speaking man and a safe driver. On board were three other Americans: a heavyset lady who was born in El Salvador but grew up in New York, her husband with braces, and a solo traveling NICU nurse from Texas. We drove out of San Salvador, encountering traffic despite having the reverse commute, and out into the countryside. The trailhead was marked by a gauntlet of roadside stalls. Here, we added three more members: an American father/daughter from upstate NY, and a Spanish-speaking guide named Delma.

​At the summit, we were thoroughly immersed in the clouds and had no outward views. But the view down into the crater was spectacular. It was almost perfectly round with several tiers of rock. At the center was a cheerful turquoise lake, shedding a constant stream of steam. It felt like standing in the nosebleeds of a natural sports arena. I loved the volcanic yellows, reds, and blacks. I asked the guide a few questions; it last erupted in 2005, and was the tallest volcano in El Salvador (7,800 ft)

On the way back down, we encountered several large groups of 15-20 people. Many were young European backpackers, melting in the early afternoon heat. I realized how lucky we were to have a small group and an earlier start. We also passed by a pair of policeman and a group of soldiers. The hike has a cutoff time and requires a professional guide; apparently these were being enforced. I overheard someone explain that the gas from the volcano is more intense in the afternoon, and can make people dizzy.

I asked Delma about local wildlife and received a surprisingly long answer. Some were familiar fauna like white-tail deer and coyotes. Others were obscure ones like the gato zonte (jaguarundi), the agouti (rodent cousin of capybara), and the pezote (white nosed coati). To explain what a pezote looked like, she compared it to a “mapache,” a reference I didn’t understand until she pantomimed bands around her eyes, and I realized it meant “raccoon.”
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After regrouping, the driver dropped us off at Cráter, a restaurant with a wonderful view of Lake Coatepeque. I had a panini and a beer and chatted with the other Americans. A few traffic jams later, we were back in San Salvador. The others were staying on the coast, so I was the first to peel off.

I desperately wanted to wash the dirt off my legs, but Gavin had the key and was out getting a haircut. I tried to make myself look presentable and got a coffee at the café next door. After an hour, I realized that Gavin was working on wedding planning and couldn’t come back. I took an Uber to Santa Tecla just to collect the key. Ironically, the door to the AirBNB had failed to latch and the key wasn’t needed.
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Finally freshened up, I went out with Gavin for dinner at Cadejo Brewing, a craft brewery with slick branding. I had already noticed their dog logo at the airport and in the grocery aisle, so their marketing people were doing something right. The walls were adorned with artistic canine masks. The appetizer, bite sized mozzarella sticks with a grapefruit sauce, was served in a dog bowl. The menu explained the inspiration for the dog theme was a legend of two dog spirits that were village guardians. The beer was excellent; we split a flight with 6 different types. I particularly like the darker end of the range, which was convenient as Gavin preferred the light end of the range. My main course included a tasty selection of steak, chorizo, and tortillas. I had a full glass of their stout for dessert, which tasted like Guinness without the pomp and circumstance.

Back at the AirBNB, Gavin and I stayed up talking and sipping rum and maracuyá cocktails. We received a text from Yeshar, our mutual friend and the best man in the wedding. He made it to the airport but had left his passport at home. Thankfully, he managed to retrieve it and make his flight. When I woke up the next morning, Yeshar was settled into his room for a nap. The passport snafus made sense in the context of his week. He recently started as an assistant teacher for an AP Physics class, and the main teacher had abruptly resigned a few days prior. Now he was away, relying on a substitute of his own for a few days.
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I took Yeshar out for breakfast at a bakery-restaurant called San Martin that Gavin and Katherine recommended. It was a high-end establishment, with a terrace looking towards the mountains. I enjoyed an egg scramble with loroco, a green bud vegetable that evoked okra. We also split a plate of fresh fruit, including watermelon, pineapple, and papaya. On the way out, we picked out a few pastries to go. The baskets were poorly labelled, but we managed to get help from an attendant who explained the fillings and jaleas (jams). Our haul included a few empanadas and a peperecha, a dessert covered in red sugar.

In the afternoon, Gavin, Yeshar, and I ventured out in search of Mayan ruins. To get there, we hired a driver that Katherine recommended, an energetic fellow named Freddy. He had a strong accent that both Yeshar and I struggled to understand at times, but we appreciated his chattiness. On the drive into the countryside, he rattled off a series of critiques of wage exploitation by foreign companies, botched construction projects due to incompetence, and the president’s draconian policies. He was dismayed at Bukele’ use of taxpayer money to finance projects that benefitted the elite and drew particular attention to the extreme traffic fines: $150 for basic offenses, which could cripple someone making $10 a day. He often prefaced a shocking revelation with the word “ojo” (literally: “eye”) and a dramatic pause. It was harrowing to drive through a dangerous traffic zone called Los Chorros while learning that its lack of streetlights and lane reflectors led to collisions at night, and the use of improper steel had caused structural collapses that killed multiple construction workers.

Our first stop was Joya de Cerén, nicknamed the Pompeii of the Americas. In 600 AD, this Mayan village was covered in ash from an erupting volcano, preserving the architecture and artifacts of everyday Mayans. It’s the only UNESCO site in El Salvador, and it was practically deserted when we arrived. Freddy half-heartedly attempted to drive past the ticket booth without paying. When noticed by a parking attendant, he backed the car up and tried to make a joke about the booth attendant being asleep (they weren’t). Tickets were $10 for foreigners and $1 for locals. Freddy hadn’t been to Joya de Cerén. However, seeing our interest in the site seemed to inspire him. He had the idea of taking his daughter there someday, to appreciate their country’s historical legacy.

The site was covered with an enormous shade structure. Birds were perched in the rafters, including a torogoz (the national bird). From the walkway, we looked down on excavated buildings. Some were built with stone walls, others with “bajareque” (waddle and daub), a composite of sticks and clay. It was impressive, but a guide to explain it would have been helpful.

​The grounds of the site were full of tropical delights. We spotted cacao pods growing on trees, pineapples and mangos, lizards and iguanas, and an unusual red fruit. Freddy explained that it was called marañón, the secondary fruit of the cashew tree. He surreptitiously ducked under a hedge to pluck one off when no one was looking. We passed it around and each took a bite. Its texture was juicy but chalky – an unpleasant mouth feel, but a fun experience. We stopped in the site’s museum, where Yeshar had a spontaneous conversation with a couple from the US.

​We drove to the next Mayan site: San Andrés. It was similarly uncrowded, with more staff than visitors. This site had an acropolis, a raised area with multiple pyramid structures. The sun was oppressive, but it was still magical to be staring up the stone steps of a bona fide Mayan temple, the stuff of explorers’ dreams. We were starting to wilt in the humidity, so we didn’t linger in the open-air museum, though I did have time to appreciate an elaborate artifact known as the “eccentric flint.”

We sought a refreshing drink; Freddy asked the booth attendant for ideas, who suggested Lake Coatepeque. It was 30 minutes out of the way, but why not? On the way, we passed a recent car crash, where a pickup truck had flipped on its side. The road to the lake had a slightly different feel, with yellow tuk tuks, pedestrians carrying live chickens in their hands, and women with nun-like headdresses. Freddy drove down the hill looking for a specific restaurant, but couldn’t find it. We returned to the top of the hill and picked one at random.

The restaurant had an overhanging patio with excellent views of the lake. I ordered a “vaca negra” (black cow), which was an ice cream float with Coke. Yeshar ordered an horchata, which had a more peanuty flavor than Mexican horchata. Gavin ordered a coffee and Salvadoran quesadilla, which was burnt on the bottom. He accidentally launched a piece off the table while trying to cut it with a spoon. Freddy stood up for him and sent it back to the kitchen. It was a great example of service in El Salvador trying to cut corners, a subtle but recurring theme of the trip. With a 10% tip usually baked into the check, there wasn’t much incentive to strive for a better tip. While leaving, our surly young waiter accused Freddy of not paying for some cinnamon gum. After seeing Freddy’s willingness to drive on through a ticket booth, I wasn’t sure who to believe, but they worked it out.

On the drive back, Freddy entertained us with some catchy cumbia music. He also made some mildly racist jokes about “Don Wong” (Gavin) profiting from Kia and Hyundai sales and comparing him to the actor Ken Jeong in the Hangover. It was dusk when we reached the ominous, unlit lanes of Los Chorros. Still, we made it back to San Salvador safe and sound.

There was some confusion over our dinner plans. Katherine had recommended a restaurant called El Xolo Maíz, which was apparently a quirky corn-themed restaurant. However, the only search hit was a Michelin star restaurant called El Xolo with no corn jokes in sight. After some deliberation, we decided to go for a more casual option, a casual Salvadoran restaurant called Típicos Margoth, in a modern shopping center called Bambu City Center. We met Andrea there.

The process of ordering was convoluted. Some items were requested a la carte from a glass case. Pupusas were ordered from an electronic kiosk. Drinks were ordered from the cashier. The TV screen menus rotated faster than I could read them. Yeshar ordered a beverage that I had never heard of called “atol” – and was offered two different flavors that none of us recognized. With help from Andrea, we somehow cobbled together a dinner order.

The pupusas were excellent – fresh, cheesy, with beans or pork. Pupusas are typically served with a coleslaw-like topping called curtido. Uncooked veggies are always a risk in Latin America, but I decided to try the curtido here, and it was good. The other dishes fell a bit short. The yuca fries were a bit tough, and the atol beverages were downright weird. The chilate flavor had a bland, creamy maize flour base. The piñuela flavor had a cloying fruity taste and a few inedible bits.

The next morning, Yeshar was interested in a shave and haircut, and we needed a few groceries, so the three of us went back to the Ramblas shopping center in Santa Tecla. We found a nice restaurant called Graciela’s and had traditional breakfasts plus coffee and beignets. My breakfast featured a Salvadoran tamal, which was soft and moist, though light on filling. Yeshar went for his haircut, which ended up being a huge ordeal with multiple rounds of shaving and washing. He was gone for an hour and a half! He left a generous tip but regretted it when he later found a long hair that was missed.

In the early evening, we went to a rehearsal dinner style event at the house of Katherine’s late grandparents. Here, I got to meet Katherine’s relatives. Papi Memo and Mama Elsie were there, the grandparents that she lives with in Daly City. Bubbly Aunt Jeanette was visiting from San Mateo. Cousin Isabela had flown from NYC and was accompanied by her long-distance German boyfriend Sam, a Stanford PhD student

Katherine’s parents, Ivette and Roberto, were both lovely and personable hosts. Ivette was born in the US, and moved back to El Salvador to be with Roberto, who was a successful ophthalmologist there. Roberto’s brother, Tío Neto, was the first deaf person to graduate from the Rhode Island School of Design. He could read lips, though communication was still a bit tricky. His partner Graciela, an enthusiastic college professor, was a big help with facilitating the conversation.

The house was a charming slice of paradise nestled in a secure, hilly enclave. The white adobe walls were covered in fine art. Tío Neto’s beautiful floral arrangements adorned the tables. Brick arches offered a glimpse into the tropical garden. A balcony looked towards the glistening lights of the city and the rising red moon, a reminder of last night’s eclipse. Waiters offered sangrías and hors d’oeuvres. It was a classy start to the wedding weekend.

Katherine’s mom and Gavin’s sisters Tiffany and Chloe made speeches, and then everyone settled into their dinner tables. I was at a table with Tiffany and Chloe, Isabela and Sam, and Yeshar. There was plenty of good conversation, though Yeshar’s fascination with Sam’s life and impressions of the US got the most airtime. Dinner included a tasty salad, rolled chicken with pesto, and coffee crème brulee. Yeshar was pleasantly surprised to receive a tofu entrée, as he’s vegetarian and Katherine had remembered without asking. I had a little wine and recognized the brand, Concha y Toro, which I had visited in Chile. After dinner, I chatted with folks from other tables, including Gavin’s parents and Katherine’s dad. The party slowly wound down. Katherine’s dad offered to drive us back to the AirBNB. He was the safest driver I encountered all week.

Saturday was a free day between events. Katherine arranged for Freddy to take Gavin’s family sightseeing. After experiencing the Mayan ruins outing with Freddy, I thought it was a good idea for me to join – both on a practical level (Spanish translation) and because I preferred sightseeing outside of the congested city. Yeshar joined too. We all met at the Hilton. This time, Freddy had a much larger van – and a dedicated driver. Given that Freddy wasn’t exactly a tour guide, having two drivers seemed a bit excessive. Nonetheless, I appreciated Freddy’s willingness to aggressively negotiate with locals wherever we went. Gavin’s mom was extremely inclusive and was more than happy for Freddy to join us for meals throughout the day. The other driver tended to keep his distance at the stops.
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We drove to Lake Coatepeque, now my third time experiencing it. This time, we stopped at a fancy restaurant called La Pampa – not for the food, but for the view. It was spectacular on such a beautiful sunny day.

Adjacent to the restaurant was a mini theme park with a roller slide, swings, and a ropes course. It was clearly a competitor to Café Albania, an Instagram-famous spot in El Salvador with a rainbow slide. However, we had none of the Instagram crowds. I decided to give it a shot. Gavin’s family wasn’t interested in participating but were more than happy to spectate and cheer on Yeshar and me.

​​The inner tube ride started out slow, but accelerated in the second half. I loved the feeling of coasting down on hundreds of tiny wheels! The ropes course looked easy but ended up being really hard, like a Survivor immunity challenge. I’m not sure how Yeshar made it through wearing flip flops. It was a good time and made me feel like I was getting something new from this day trip.

Freddy had advertised a lake cruise with a lunch option. When we got to the dock, we learned the cruise wasn’t serving food, so we ate on land. The restaurant was right on the lake and felt like a tourist trap. Hawkers with tchotchkes passed by the table. Amplified music from the restaurant next door clashed with our restaurant’s soundtrack. Cute blackbirds perched on the railings, looking for scraps. I ordered a whole fried fish called a mojarra, which was tasty, though it turned out none of their fish were actually from the lake. Gavin’s dad took a risk ordering a cut of beef called “loma de aguja” that Yeshar and I couldn’t translate. It turned out to be a skirt steak, and a good one too. While it wasn’t the kind of place where you risked consuming ice or uncooked veggies, it was a nice lunch. Unfortunately, when we finished, Freddy said there wasn’t time for a cruise.
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We drove around the rim of the crater, stopping at a viewpoint. A signboard explained the lake was a supervolcano, formed by four major eruptions. The Santa Ana volcano that I hiked was nearby but had its head in the clouds. The Izalco volcano was below the cloud line – we headed there next.

I ordered an horchata served in a natural bowl called a morro, a giant nut we’d seen growing on a tree at the San Andrés Mayan ruins. The drink had a peanut flavor, which must be the Salvadoran twist. It was so good! I had to pace myself and savor it.

During the meal, I asked Freddy if Salvadorans actually use Bitcoin. He said it was more for government investment and wasn’t used in day-to-day transactions. Though for fun, he asked the waiter if they accepted Bitcoin at Casa 1800. The waiter’s face went blank. Clearly not a typical question. He had to go ask, but the answer was indeed yes.
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We were tight on time, so instead of returning to the Hilton, we went directly to Katherines’ parents’ house in Santa Tecla. It was a beautiful home in a gated community. Her mother, Ivette, was a talented gardener who made the most of the tropical climate and had cultivated a stunning yard. I learned that Katherine’s grandma was also a talented gardener, and many of these plants were clippings from the house we visited for Friday night’s rehearsal dinner. I particularly liked the hanging baskets of staghorns, a plant I recognized from Australia.

Katherine catered the evening with pupusas from her local favorite shop, Pupusas de Olocuita. I thought I was full from the meal at Casa 1800, but the pupusas were so good that I devoured at least four. There were also some excellent drinks. The national soda, Kolachanpan, has the flavor of a tropical fruit called mamey. There was also jamaíca, a hibiscus beverage. And for dessert, a sweet hot chocolate was served. It was a fun, casual meal.

We also rehearsed the wedding ceremony. It was a bit rowdy but honestly helpful. Tiffany and Chloe learned how to set up the rope that symbolically held the couple with God at the center. I had been given a last-minute assignment of handing Gavin the “arras,” a bag of coins that he would give to Katherine as a symbol of the emotional, spiritual, and financial support he would provide as husband. Isabela read a Bible passage that required some edits – an obscure reference was removed. The mothers practiced hugging their children while holding the unity candles at a safe distance from any veils.

The day of the wedding had arrived. We had a pineapple for breakfast, served in an unusual way that Yeshar saw on YouTube. Instead of cutting off the skin or removing the core, we loosened the pineapple by smashing it on the floor and rolling it back and forth. The pieces separated along their cell boundaries and could be individually plucked out. It was a juicy tear-and-share.

I went on a solo shopping mission to Multiplaza. I thought I knew the mall layout but got turned around. At the grocery store, I picked up some energy drinks for Gavin and coffee to bring home to the US. At San Martin, I picked up a giant slab of semita for the office and some pastries for the plane ride.

At the AirBNB, the three of us partially changed into formal clothes and basked in the one air conditioned room. We took an Uber to Katherines’ parents’ house and waited a bit. Katherine’s dad Roberto, the ophthalmologist, drove us to the wedding venue. On the way, he told us about splitting his time between a public hospital and a private hospital, about trying to minimize small talk with chatty patients, knowing when relatives of gang members were getting treatment at the hospital, and training new docs. As we headed up into the mountains, he thought back to earlier times when gangs controlled peoples’ ability to move between neighborhoods, and charged monthly bribes that were proportional to a business’ income (they called it “paying rent.”)
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The wedding venue was called the Cajamarca, an old coffee plantation turned into a modern events center. There was a charming little chapel for the ceremony, a village of villas for people to stay overnight, and several large grassy fields and gardens for receptions. Yeshar and I hung out with Gavin at one of the villas, where Gavin and Katherine would be staying after the wedding. It had just been constructed a few months earlier. We blasted the AC and reminisced about the Speech team.

​Andrea summoned Gavin for the “first look” and we all left the villa. While Gavin and Katherine had their emotional moment in a private garden, I helped Yeshar with his boutonniere and greeted Gavin’s family who had just arrived. Guests slowly arrived at the venue and filtered into the chapel. The interior was small, and yet a string quartet was squeezed behind the altar. About 1/3 of the seats were actually outside the chapel; the audio was projected via speakers.

The ceremony was the first religious wedding ceremony I’d attended. The officiant was a pastor who knew Katherine from her birth. After everyone had walked down the aisle and the couple settled on a bench, the pastor gave an introductory speech in Spanish. The symbolic rope, coins, and unity candle lighting took place as we rehearsed the night before. Then, Gavin gave his vows in English, and Katherine gave hers in Spanish. It was the first time I’d heard the classic vows translated in Spanish, and the appropriate responses of “sí yo quiero” or “sí prometo.” It was a poignant moment that gave me chills. As the couple walked out, the violins marched out behind them. Afterwards there was a photo session on the lawn next to the church.
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The outdoor reception had light snacks and cocktails. I talked to Yeshar and Gavin’s family while sipping on a tasty margarita. Katherine, Gavin, and Roberto gave brief speeches, and we toasted them with champagne. Ivette introduced me to Reynaldo, a friendly man visiting from Guatemala. He was a photographer and creative type who owned multiple vacation properties in the US and Central America.

We moved into a forested area with banquet tables set up. The dessert table was tempting everyone as we waited for food to be served. The table was just a little too wide, so it was hard to converse across. I still enjoyed talking with Gavin’s parents to my left and Yeshar to my right. The couple entered and had their first dance, mother/groom, and father/bride dances. Gavin and Katherine nailed their choreography.
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Dinner was soup and beef/chicken entrée. Poor Yeshar, a vegetarian who strives to be vegan, had to turn away both, though the wait staff produced a mushroom alterative in the end. Dessert was a self-serve affair, and I was a bit late to the game, so I hadn’t finished mine when a parade of people worked its way to the dance floor, recruiting from the tables as it weaved through.

​Dancing was a blast, and I really love the upbeat Latin pop music. And everyone was into it! Gavin, Katherine, and Yeshar were busting moves. Gavin’s parents and sisters were grooving. Even Papi Memo and Mama Elsie were dancing like there was no tomorrow. I took a few breaks to finish dessert and rehydrate (G&T counts, right?) The cake, belatedly served, was made with an amazing dulce de leche. It ended up being my favorite food of the wedding.

Though many of us expected a Latin American wedding to go late into the night, the dancing was winding down by 10:00. Maybe it was having the wedding on a Sunday night, or the remote location, or the average age of the attendees skewing on the older end. In any case, Yeshar and I did our part to keep the dancing going as long as we could. Towards the very end, they played a song Yeshar had requested earlier in the evening, and he went all out dancing!

As things wound down, I entertained Gavin’s family plus Sam and Isabela with some card tricks and coin tricks. Soon, we were all bidding each other farewell. ​Yeshar and I waited for our Uber with Gavin’s parents and sisters, who called their own. The Ubers arrived almost simultaneously from opposite directions – a huge relief, given the remote mountainside location.

I had arranged a taxi for 4:00am. It arrived at 3:30am, and sent me a voice message while I was still in bed. I groggily replied. Eventually, my fear of it driving away outweighed my reluctance to get up early. The driver was quite nice. He asked if I was from Spain. We chatted a bit on the drive. The airport dropoff area was chaotic, but once I got through security it was laid back.

I couldn’t resist one more round of pupusas before leaving the country. While waiting for my breakfast, I read the news about Trump sending a deportation flight of Venezuelans to El Salvador. The prison was just 45 minutes from the airport where I was sitting. I sipped my black coffee and was thankful that I was traveling between two friendly countries, even if they were a bit too friendly.

There was an additional security screening between the terminal and waiting area, so I had to discard a recently purchased water bottle, but the airline handed out replacement bottles on the jet bridge. I was thankful to have a window seat next to an empty window seat. The guy in the aisle seat was a bit intimidating. He was covered in tattoos, including a dagger on his neck and a jaguar on his hand. As we got off the plane, I noticed he had Spongebob slippers sticking out his backpack, so maybe the fear was misplaced.
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The views during takeoff weren’t great, as the haziness shrouded the volcanoes yet again. I napped for a few hours and listened to a podcast. Arriving home to a cold, rainy St. Patrick’s Day was a shock after a week in dry, tropical climate. My dad picked me up at the airport, and the return to normal life began.

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Now that the journey has come to a close, and I've sorted through the photos and videos, it seemed like a good time to create an index of the 77 chapters now buried in this reverse-chronological blog.

​This will be the last post for the foreseeable future. Thanks for taking this journey along with me!

Here's a list of posts in the order they were written.

Netherlands

1. Netherlands, Part 1 (Duo Travels)
2. ​Netherlands, Part 2 (Amsterdam)

Greece

1. Overcoming Agoraphobia in Athens
2. Mainland Greece
3. On the "Raki" Roads of Crete​
4. Recharging in Paros​

Croatia

1. Dubrovnikland - The Happiest Place on Earth?​
2. Adventures (and Injuries) on the Adriatic
3. Converging in Split
4. Pure Nature in Plitvice

Slovenia

1. Capital Cities and Colossal Caves
2. Just a Peak of the Julian Alps

Austria

1. An Operatic Ending in Vienna

​New Zealand

1. A Warm Welcome to New Zealand
2. Maori Ways and Eagle Rays
3. Fantasy Landscapes – Above and Below Ground
4. Walking in a Thermal Wonderland
5. Windy Wellington
6. White Wine and Kayak Time
7. Ferns and Turns
8. Adventure Royale in Queenstown
9. Milford and Doubtful: Two Great Sounds that Sound Great Together
10. Flightless Kiwi on the Airstrip
11. Party ‘till the Penguins Come Home
12. Cloudpiercer
13. Quake City
14. Kaikoura and Closing the Loop

Australia

1. First Taste of Tasmania
2. A Devilishly Good Tasmanian Road Trip
3. New Year’s Eve and the Blue Mountains
4. Siblings Take Sydney
5. The Great Barrier, a Five Star "Reef-view"
6. Barossa Valley “Shiraz” a Lot of Good Wine
7. Kangaroo Crossing
8. The Tennis
9. Apartment Hunting from South Melbourne
10. Run With It
11. Memorable Characters, Onstage and Off
12. Hunting for Work
13. Year of the Dragon
14. Music to My Ears
15. “Fur”st Impressions
16. Slice of Life
17. Great Ocean Road and Castlemaine
18. Lights, Canberra, Action
19. March Events Roundup
20. Easter and the Grampians
21. Rainy Interlude
22. Uluru and the Red Center
23. ANZAC Day
24. A "Perth"-fect Intro to WA
25. Quokka Selfie
26. Caves Road
27. Karri, Marri, and Tingle
28. Taste of the Gold Coast
29. Dingoes at Dusk
30. Elusive Rays in the Everglades
31. Brisbane, the River City
32. Mutiny on the Waltzing Matilda
33. Tropical Darwin
34. Kakadu: Love at First Flight
35. Kakadu: Parks and Recreation
36. Darwin Defies Definition
37. Reacclimating to Melbourne
38. King’s Birthday Weekend
39. Ballarat and Healesville
40. Farewell to Melbourne

French Polynesia

1. Magical Moorea Wedding
2. Adrenaline Rush
3. Overwater and Underwater

Ecuador (Galapagos)

1. San Cristóbal 360
2. Marine Iguanas and Blue-Footed Boobies
3. Volcanic Isabela

Compilations & Reflections

1. Australia: 6 Months in 15 Minutes
2. 1 Year Later
3. Photo Gallery
4. New Zealand Video Highlights​

My latest video montage is a celebration of a beautiful country filled with green hills, stunning fjords, and majestic mountains... New Zealand! Five weeks in NZ was a sizeable amount of time, and we covered a lot of ground. Here's a visual summary of the many amazing sights we encountered.

I've been working behind the scenes to consolidate my favorite photos from the trip in one place. After many hours of picking favorites, cropping, editing, and uploading, the gallery is complete!

You can find it on the "Travel Photos" tab of this website (https://www.grantmenon.com/travel-photos.html).

In the gallery, you can click on any photo to make it larger.

As an appetizer, here are a few of my handpicked favorites!

​I recently made a video montage of my journey through Australia. Distilling the best video clips into one sequence was a great way to process all of the incredible landscapes, wildlife, festivals, sports, historical sites, road trips, and unexpected thrills.

​I also had fun picking music from artists that were connected to the trip in some way. For example, the first piece "Love Token" is written and performed by an Australian guitar duo, the Grigoryan brothers. I learned about them from my host in Perth, and later saw the brothers perform a concert in Melbourne (which included the piece). As it turned out, "Love Token" was part of an album commissioned by the National Museum of Australia, which I had visited in Canberra and absolutely adored. The name of the song is a reference to a category of artifact from the convict era: an engraved coin the convicts would leave with their loved ones as a memento before starting the journey to Australia. A fitting start to the montage.

Other songs had similar connections. The classical piece "Toreadors" (from Carmen) was part of the opera revue I attended at the Sydney Opera House. Musicians Vika & Linda were a recommendation from my Melbourne host, Gail. Together we saw Charlie Needs Braces perform at the Gasworks in Melbourne. While at a guitar jam session in Perth, I was introduced to the Western Australian band The Waifs. And some songs I just liked listening to, like the high energy rap of Aboriginal artist Baker Boy and the Uluru-inspired "Solid Rock" by Goanna.

Most of the video footage comes from my GoPro, with some supplemental footage from my phone camera. I didn't always bring my GoPro, so there are some notable places missing -- Brisbane, the Grampians, and Whitehaven Beach come to mind. But the video's already long enough, so that can be forgiven. Hope you enjoy it.

​Isabela was the third island on our Galápagos itinerary. It’s the largest island in the archipelago, shaped roughly like a seahorse holding onto a rock, and formed by 6 overlapping volcanoes. Its main town, Puerto Villamil, was the smallest of the three ports we stayed in. Overall, Isabela felt less developed, both in terms of its geology and human infrastructure, making it the perfect launching point to experience the raw nature of the Galápagos. All three of our day tours – Las Tintoreras, Sierra Negra, and Los Túneles – were huge winners, with breathtaking volcanic formations and abundant wildlife. Highlight sightings included Galápagos penguins, white-tipped reef sharks, and the island’s unofficial mascot, the seahorse.

​We arrived on a morning ferry from Santa Cruz. Our vessel, Legendary, had bigger windows so we could see the horizon this time. An hour and a half later, we arrived in the rock and mangrove-ringed Isabela harbor. As usual we were picked up by a water taxi. The driver played a scam on the group by claiming someone hadn’t paid their $1 fee, holding everyone in limbo until a good Samaritan coughed up an extra dollar. At the Isabela pier, we paid a small tourist fee and wrote down a contact email address on a very unofficial looking piece of paper. Nearby, sea lions had taken over one of the boat launches, jockeying for position on the stairs and growling at tourists who stepped too close. Our land taxi driver didn’t come across as very friendly but got us across town to the AirBNB.

​“Flip Flop House” was a modern and well-maintained property, with a large courtyard, a fully tooled kitchen, a laundry room, and a house manual worthy of a design award. The jug of drinking water was connected to a motorized straw, so that potable water could be dispensed through a convenient spigot alongside the main tap. If the jug ran out, scanning a QR code in the house manual would automatically compose a WhatsApp message in Spanish requesting a refill. The AirBNB also seemed kid-friendly, with games and children’s books in both English and Spanish. The room I shared with my parents had three twin beds, a good setup for families traveling. Some other details in the courtyard included: a shower for rinsing the sand off your feet, a hammock, and a welcome mat with a turtle pattern. It was a wonderful home for 3 days.

​We had some bread and peanut butter with us, which kept the hunger at bay, but we soon headed into town to explore and find a proper lunch. As we explored Puerto Villamil, we stumbled upon a coastal viewing platform, a decorative Isabela sign, and a lagoon with wild flamingos.

​There were a good number of restaurants right along the sandy beach, and we browsed menus to evaluate vegan options for Vince and Rachel. We settled on a spot called The Beach, which turned into our go-to destination for the whole stay. The service was friendly, the drinks packed a punch, and the food was tasty. On this first visit, we all tried their maracuyá (passion fruit) juice. I had their pescado encocado (coconut fish) with patacones (fried smashed green plaintains). Yum! Others at the table had their grilled veggie platters which were elevated, literally. Throw in some beach views, and we were happy campers.

​While our day tours on Isabela were enjoyable, there was a lot of unpredictability from the use of subcontractors to deliver gear rentals, taxi pick-ups, and the actual excursions. We booked through a company called Galápagos Native, but it operated as a shell company. None of our vehicles or guides had any Galápagos Native branding. Instead, they farmed out to other operators. Confusingly, gear rental was partially split between the parent company and their subcontractors. For our first snorkeling tour to Las Tintoreras, we picked up normal-length wetsuits at a Galápagos Native office the day before. Full length wetsuits, for those desiring extra warmth, were picked up from a second shop on the way to the pier. Masks and fins were provided on board the boat, a third source.

The pick-up van that collected us from the AirBNB was late, but we eventually made it to the pier and met our nature guide Tito Franco. From there it was smooth sailing. The boat, Manta Raya, was mercifully spacious. A major relief, as we were still a bit traumatized from the overcrowded boat on the Las Grietas tour. The skipper of the Manta Raya was excellent at nudging the boat close to the rocks for animal viewing, and provided both sides equal chances to see them up close. Tito Franco was a great guide, providing facts about the animals at a good cadence in both English and Spanish.

​During the first part of the cruise, we saw Galápagos penguins. They’re the second smallest penguins in the world, just ahead of the fairy penguins of Australia and New Zealand. Given that I’d only seen fairy penguins recently, the Galápagos penguins looked big to me! It was hard to believe there were cold-loving penguins living near the Equator. This species was adapted to the heat, but still had to find ways to stay cool. One jumped from the rocks into the water for a refreshing (and entertaining) bath.

The name of the tour, “Las Tintoreras,” is the Spanish word for the white-tipped reef sharks that inhabit the area. I had briefly glimpsed the white-tipped sharks in the murky reef on San Cristóbal, but the sharks on Isabela were next level. From the boat, we went on a short hike to a viewing area overlooking a shark-filled channel with clear water. There were dozens of white-tipped sharks resting on the bottom in giant dogpiles, with a handful swimming circles above. Seeing so many in one place was awe-inspiring. Competing for our attention were a few enormous sea turtles, nibbling on algae and sticking their heads above the surface, which were also an amazing sight.

​We returned to the boat and prepared for the snorkeling part of the tour, donning wetsuits and applying anti-fog solution to our masks. The cove where we mustered had plenty of interesting sights, including turtles and an octopus. The octopus was camouflaged when stationary, and I only spotted it because it was initially swimming with its tentacles out.

​Moving as a group, we left the cove and swam across a stretch of more open ocean towards the lava rocks on the other side. Some of the younger kids on the tour were wild in the water, inadvertently tailgating or kicking people with their fins. The more graceful swimmers were the playful sea lions that performed an underwater dance. They dove and spiraled and chased fish, getting so close we could see their googly eyes staring back at us.

​On the other side of the crossing, the group reconfigured into a single file line and swam into a narrow lava channel. You could easily touch both sides, so avoiding a crash required a bit of focus. We were encouraged to swim slowly and avoid kicking up bubbles to better see the bottom, which was filled with… more white-tipped reef sharks! After viewing them from land, we were now swimming just feet above. It felt like a tense scene in a movie where the heroes have to tip-toe past a nest of sleeping dragons without waking them. One or two sharks stirred and started to swim. With the tunnel vision of the narrow channel, we couldn’t help but look down, and hope they took no interest in us swimmers. Sharks aside, the channel also had some interesting algae, a hidden sea lion that startled me, and a funky translucent shrimp swimming at eye level. Along the way, one of my dad’s fins broke, but he managed to catch up with the group before we climbed back into the boat.

That evening, we cooked a pasta dinner at the AirBNB. The ingredients on Isabela were pretty expensive ($10 for a large can of peeled tomatoes!) Ecuador uses the US dollar as its official currency, so there was no exchange rate to consider… only island pricing. Going out for groceries was a good way to explore Puerto Villamil. The town was quiet in the afternoon, but it came to life at night. People gathered around outdoor grills, skate parks, and TV screens showing Copa America matches. Bakeries seemed to be open all day, and cafes that were closed in the morning had their neon signs illuminated in the evening. My dad practiced his Spanish, successfully ordering a chocolate bread from a panadería.

​Visiting the Sierra Negra volcano required a professional nature guide. The nature guides had presumably lobbied the national park to add this requirement. We got the impression there was a surplus of guides, and with tourism at 70% of normal, they were struggling to find work. Ours was a tiny 75-year-old Ecuadorian man named Wilmer. To our surprise, he launched right into the hike, leaving the rest of us in the dust (and without an opportunity to use the bathroom). He seemed more focused on finishing the hike than looking after the group. An Italian couple who fell behind angrily yelled at him for ignoring the people at the back. Given the tour company’s slow start, rushing the guests felt especially bad. And the pace made it hard to appreciate the natural environment. Wilmer breezed past a beautiful vermilion flycatcher, a Galápagos bird with bright red colors, without alerting the group. So much for a “nature guide.”

​We were the first group to arrive at the first viewpoint. The Sierra Negra volcano is the second largest volcanic crater in the world. We had the luck of visiting on a clear day. At a glance, it had a simple color scheme: a pitch-black floor and bright green hillsides, both extending far into the horizon. Looking more closely, the floor of the crater was textured with ridges and cracks. These enormous fissures crisscrossed the crater’s expanse, their fraying edges marking where viscous lava flows had halted. The freshest rock was on the opposite side of the crater, a burn scar in the vegetation from the 2005 eruption. We loved seeing the fog rolling over the ridge and into the crater.

​The hike continued around the edge of the crater towards these newer flows. Then it descended the slope of Sierra Negra and entered a raw, exposed region called Volcán Chico, formed by a 1979 eruption. Only the hardiest cactus could grow here. The geology was the star of the show. The buildup and collapse of lava layers had formed the most unusual shapes: huge troughs running downhill like sluices, domes with missing chunks that revealed elaborate striations, sinkholes with slabs of rock at oblique angles like the collapsed roads in apocalyptic movies. I particularly liked the black and yellow gradients on the sulfur-rich hills. The terrain was treacherous and exposed to the full sun. My mom made excellent use of her hiking poles for stability, and proved her hiking endurance.

At the furthest point on the hike, we sat and enjoyed panoramic views of the whole archipelago. We could see down the length of Isabela, and its neighboring islands like Fernandina and Santa Cruz. The tour provided a basic lunch, a sandwich with cheese and a fruity spread. During the break, we pored over the interesting rock fragments lying within reach.

​The return hike started uphill, and an over-dressed member of group suffered from heat stroke. While she recovered, we waited at a shaded picnic area where a horseback tour was getting back in their saddles. Moving once again, we chatted with a friendly Brazilian lady who worked for the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) and had many fascinating travel stories. The return journey was made more pleasant by the conversation but still seemed to take forever. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who felt this way. The impatient bus driver took the vehicle onto the trail to intercept us, instead of waiting for us to reach the parking lot. They drove like a bat out of hell, flying down the mountain back to Puerto Villamil.

Our plans for an early dinner were thwarted by restaurant hours. Our first stop, The Beach, wasn’t yet open. I was falling into a hunger-spiral and broke it with a cinnamon roll from a nearby bakery. We waited for a different restaurant to open, but the hours on Google were incorrect. By then, The Beach was open so we returned there for another meal and happy hour drinks. Their caipiriñas were boozy and limey, their regular daiquiris had generous helpings of mint, and their frozen maracuyá daiquiris were imposing dollops of orange. It was just what we needed after the big hike. We had a laugh over our attempt to pronounce "tuna tartare" with a Spanish inflection when ordering.

​The third Isabela day centered on a boating tour to Los Túneles. From the AirBNB, the taxi driver first took us to a  gear shop called Banana for our wetsuits, fins, and masks. At the pier, we were thrilled to find our favorite nature guide from the Tintoreras tour, Tito Franco, reprising his role. We took a water taxi to our spacious main boat. It was just 10 people on the boat – ourselves, a German family, and an American couple. During the initial boat "navigation" (as the guides called each leg of journey) we stopped at a rock formation with Nazca boobies. The crashing waves gave it a sense of mystery and majesty.

​Out of all the permutations of volcanic rock we’d seen in the Galápagos, Los Túneles and had to be the most fascinating form. The slow collapse of a lava field into the ocean had formed a network of hundreds of interconnected channels and tunnels. The natural bridges, adorned with cactus and shrubs, were hovering just feet above the water. The water was reasonably clear, allowing us to see dozens of turtles below. The color scheme was dark and moody, but the atmosphere was peaceful.

When we first arrived, the tour split into a land group and a water group. As the land group, we took a pontoon boat and clambered ashore, a curious juvenile sea lion in close pursuit. The walking terrain was some of the sharpest and rugged we’d encountered, so both my brother and I walked alongside my dad. While steering him down the most straightforward path, I ended up in the shrubs where a surprisingly sturdy branch slashed my leg. The resulting wound was painful and unexpected. Thankfully, it created a natural flap of skin that minimized the bleeding.
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Tito Franco led us to a several blue footed boobies, including one sitting on a nest and a pair absorbed in their courtship dance. We were much closer to the birds than our first encounter on Santa Cruz. It was also a more remote setting, with no other people or boats within earshot. It felt like stepping onto hallowed ground.

​Soon it was our turn for the pontoon boat cruise through the tunnels. We briefly went underneath one of the bridges, leaning back to avoid getting poked by its spiky underside. Another highlight was spotting a bright yellow pufferfish in the water. The scenery was striking, and thoroughly distracted me from the fresh cut on my leg. I cleaned it once we returned to the main boat.

​The final stage of the outing was a long snorkel in a cove with similar terrain to Los Túneles. It was a little murky but packed with interesting animals. It was here we saw the sea horses! They were near the mangroves, hugging underwater branches with their tails, so camouflaged and stationary that only an expert guide could spot them. Easier to notice were the spotted eagle rays, swimming in formation with brown stingrays. There were also white-tipped reef sharks sleeping in quiet corners, large sea turtles grazing in the open, and schools of rainbow wrasse. I prayed that the sharks weren’t sensing my open wound. Thankfully, none approached.

The water was cold, so after an hour of swimming, we were ready to exit the water and warm-up. The crew hosed us down as we climbed the ladder, presumably to take extra good care of their beloved new boat. We snacked on sandwiches and returned to Puerto Villamil in comfort.
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It was the last proper evening of the trip, so we celebrated with a third visit to The Beach. This time, I tried the elaborate seafood platter, which included generous portions of grilled fish, shrimp, octopus, and lobster. Our guide mentioned it was currently lobster season, which draws the spotted eagle rays closer to shore. You could say this final taste of the Galápagos was a feast fit for an eagle ray!

​The process of getting back to California was one of the longest periods of continuous travel that I’ve experienced. It started with a 5:00am departure to catch the ferry from Isabela to Santa Cruz. Upon arrival, the gangway was obstructed by a cute but inconvenient sea lion. The staff poured water on its head to coax it away.

​We had an afternoon layover in Puerto Ayora, where we camped out at the acaí bowl café. They had just gotten their power back after an island-wide outage. From there, we took a taxi across the highlands to the north side of the island. Our driver Vladimir was a colleague of Luis, who had been our main driver on Santa Cruz. Both were friendly and professional. We talked with Vladimir in Spanish about regional accents in Latin America and abandoned buildings on Baltra island.

​The Santa Cruz airport wasn’t on Santa Cruz, but actually on a small neighboring island called Baltra. It had been a US military base before it was returned to Ecuador. The ferry boats making the crossing carried the luggage on top. On the other side, we boarded a bus that took us to the actual terminal.

​The Baltra airport, code GPS for Galapagos, was the best part of the journey. The patches of rock debris surrounding the terminal were filled with land iguanas, who basked in sun and lazily crossed the footpaths. After seeing so many of the black marine iguanas, it was nice to see their yellow-tinged terrestrial counterparts. The terminal also had a surprising number of souvenir shops. 

We boarded the Avianca flight and flew directly to Quito, with no stopover in Guayaquil this time. During the landing, we glimpsed Cotopaxi but the clouds hid its full splendor. In Quito, I said goodbye to the other four, who continued their South America journey for several more weeks. While they headed to an airport hotel for the night, I began a 6 hour layover. I spent time at Café Amazonas listening to Andean folk music, crossed through security, and found a quiet corner by a gift shop. The MVP of the layover was the book I was reading, "A Beautifully Foolish Endeavor" by Hank Green, with an honorable mention to the bag of tostones that sustained me.

On the plane from Quito to Houston, I had an aisle seat in the very last row. Initially I was stuck between a dad and the rest of his family, crying baby included. However, the dad moved to sit with the family, freeing up the middle seat and quieting the baby. I managed to get a little rest. After a few hours in Houston, I boarded the plane to San Francisco. I was excited to see the familiar golden hills of California knowing this was my real homecoming.
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Three days on Isabela was the perfect “last blast” to cap off a year of travel. From rugged craters to the white-tipped sharks, the island delivered on both land and sea. ​My brother did a great job of creating our DIY itinerary, building on his prior knowledge of the area. It was still a logistically challenging chapter, but a very special place that merited the effort.

Following our stay on the island of San Cristóbal, we traveled west to the island of Santa Cruz, the main population center and tourist hub in the Galápagos. The main town was called Puerto Ayora. It had a bustling waterfront that quickly mellowed into a labyrinth of quiet streets and alleyways.
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On this island, the attractions were similar to San Cristóbal: snorkeling near lava fields, gawking at tortoises in the highlands, and the general chaos of marine animals and humans coexisting. But like Darwin’s finches, if you looked closely, there were subtle differences. Santa Cruz had fewer sea lions and more marine iguanas. There were more tourists crammed into each tour boat. It had a broader selection of restaurants, including more trendy cafés worthy of a digital nomad. The tap water was worse quality. There were more outdoor attractions, plazas, and playgrounds. An overabundance of "guías naturalistas" (nature guides) aggressively offering their services. A bigger grocery store, with even bigger tortillas. And a ridiculous number of interchangeable souvenir shops offering the same “I love boobies” t-shirts, which seemed to defy the Darwinian concept of exclusive niches. We did actually get to see the famous blue-footed boobies for the first time on Santa Cruz. These goofy birds were the highlight of an otherwise underwhelming tour of Academy Bay, which will shortly be recounted in its tepid entirety. Another highlight of Santa Cruz was the hilariously named Chocolápagos, a hidden gem of the archipelago.

Traveling by inter-island ferry was not what I expected. The mode of transportation was not a single ferry but rather a fleet of smaller vessels all departing at the same time. We started with an early morning arrival at the Muelle Tiburón Martillo (Hammerhead Dock) in San Cristóbal. The ferry company gave us reusable ticket-lanyards with the name of our vessel, the Angel Kellie. We went through a biosecurity checkpoint and waited in line on the pier. Military personnel helped direct the passengers. Before departure, the uniformed men stepped onboard to take a photo of the passenger cohort.
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The Angel Kellie was moored in the harbor, necessitating a short water taxi ride. The water taxis ended up being a standard feature of all the ferries and boat tours we took in the Galápagos. They all charged $1 per passenger, and usually contained around 20 passengers shoulder-to-shoulder. Helping my dad safely climb from the water taxi onto the main boat was tricky, but without incident. The most nerve-wracking part was fearing for the safety of our luggage, precariously stacked on the bow. Often there was no railing keeping the suitcases constrained as the boat pitched side to side. Through a combination of friction, sheer luck, and the collective willpower of everyone watching, the bags held their grip.

​The windows on the Angel Kellie were placed too high to see the horizon, denying an important lifeline to the seasick-prone. To make matters worse, we wore bulky life jackets that made the otherwise comfortable seats uncomfortable. The crew passed out juice boxes and crackers, a nice gesture. The goods were stashed for later: it was a rocky 2-hour journey, and avoiding a trip to the bathroom was ideal. I tried to listen to music, but the roar of the engines drowned out the majority.

Off the shore of Santa Cruz, the water taxi circus was repeated in reverse, now with demoralized motion-sick passengers. A nearly-forgotten bike was handed down from the Angel Kellie and stacked on the luggage pile. The taxi crews unloaded the bags onto a tiny floating platform, rolling and pitching with the waves. Four-wheel suitcases, inadvertently placed on their wheels, lurched ominously towards the edge of the platform. We found our bags in the scramble and carted them up the ramp to the pier, where a pier worker was amping up a playful baby sea lion to entertain anyone nearby.

Next, we hailed a land taxi: the Galápagos standard white pickup truck. Our kind driver Luis became a helpful local contact during our time on Santa Cruz. I rode in the back with the luggage, getting my first glimpse of Puerto Ayora’s restaurants and shops.
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The AirBNB was deserted when we arrived at the gate. The host had said it would be ready for early check-in, a huge stroke of luck, but she was nowhere to be found. After numerous texts and calls, someone finally showed up with the keys, and gave us a tour of the property. We were warned about the ants and the tap water. Organic trash was to be kept in the freezer, or else the ants would quickly find it – a fact that we inadvertently confirmed. And the tap water was so unequivocally bad that its use was discouraged by locals. A water cooler and on-demand jug deliveries were an effective, if inconvenient, replacement.

It was the largest AirBNB property we’ve ever stayed at: an entire two-story house with a courtyard. There was a spacious living room, kitchen, and dining room, plus four bedrooms and many bathrooms. ​I had my own room but was subjected to the intermittent mechanical squeaking of a pump in the backyard. The second floor had a patio with hammocks, where I hung my clothes to dry after a round of sink laundry. The weak Wi-Fi would have frustrated even a tortoise, but there was a Galápagos guidebook that served as an enriching alternative.  ​My favorite feature of the AirBNB was the pair of wooden handles on the front door, carved in the shape of iguanas. 

​After the morning’s chaos, we were starving and headed to Café 1835 for brunch. Like many things in the archipelago, the café’s name was a nod to Darwin’s visit on the Beagle in 1835. The café had an excellent menu of bowls, breakfast plates, and coffee. It had an attractive design, with open walls, plants growing on trellises, and local coffee beans for sales. It seemed popular with enlightened young professionals. I spotted one reading a book titled “Si lo Crees, lo Creas” (If you believe in it, you will create it). The Wi-Fi at 1835 was more reliable than our AirBNB, so it was also a good destination for pre-arranged phone calls back home.

​Getting to the Charles Darwin Research Station was a little confusing. On the map, it seemed like a short drive, so we hailed a taxi. They declined, pointing us to the pedestrian entrance within sight. Heading in that direction, a guía naturalista rushed out of a small office to intercept us. They explained that a nature guide was needed to visit the station. We only wanted to see the museum area, which was an exception to the guide rule, and they reluctantly let us go. Along the walk, we encountered a group of marine iguanas, sunbathing on a concrete boat launch ramp. The border of the ramp was painted with black and yellow stripes, each black stripe big enough for one black iguana. I guess their evolutionary instincts of camouflage have adapted to the modern world.

​The research station was a cute little complex with posters, scientific specimens, and a gift shop. I was expecting more of a natural history museum, like the Interpretation Center on San Cristóbal, but here it was a degree or two lighter on the content. One fun fact I learned was that a tortoise named Harriet, originally collected by Darwin, had lived at the Australia Zoo until her death in 2006 at the age of 175.

​We found a short path that continued down to the water. It was close to a marine iguana nesting area, and we saw a dozen or so iguanas in their characteristic dogpile. While these social reptiles originated on the mainland, here in the Galápagos, they adapted the unique ability to swim and dive for algae. The iguanas can dive up to 30 meters and spend as long as an hour underwater! Sub-species on other islands have green and red colors, though we only saw black ones. They blended in with the volcanic rock perfectly.

Unfortunately, while crossing some volcanic rocks, my dad fell forward and scraped his arms. We headed back to the AirBNB to dress the wounds, which thankfully were mild. It was his second fall of the trip, after the 360 boating tour on San Cristóbal, so we were naturally a bit worried about the frequency. The rest of the trip, he played it safe by sitting out a few treacherous hikes, and the rest of us offered a helping hand even more enthusiastically than before.
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From the moment we saw the Chocolápagos signboard, we knew it would be an essential part of our visit. The love of chocolate runs deep in the family. Though initially closed for lunch hour, we returned later in the day when it was open. The owner was an English speaking fellow with an eclectic international background. He grew up on Santa Cruz, had spent time in the US and Brazil, and studied to be chocolatier in Argentina. We appreciated his chatty and direct style, not afraid to give us his take on the politics and violence in mainland Ecuador. And the chocolates were delicious! Turtle-shaped, and a great selection of classic and Latin American flavors. I tried the passionfruit, coffee, and dulce de leche. A few days later, we returned for a souvenir box to take home.

​For dinner, we found an upscale restaurant with a happy hour special and views of a small fishing harbor. For the main course, I had a local fish called “brujo” (scorpionfish) which was filling and delicious.

​We headed in the general direction of the grocery store, stopping at the main pier which was beautifully illuminated. It was the perfect place for wildlife spotting after dark. There were pelicans, sea lions, black tipped reef sharks, and turtles.

​The main grocery store, Proinsular, was bigger than the independent stores on San Cristóbal, but still island sized. It fell short on fresh produce (totally understandable given its remote location), having more depth in dry goods. We picked up ingredients to make burritos, including ají sauce to elevate them into Ecuadorian burritos. The burritos were a big hit with the crew, so we returned to Proinsular for more tortillas. The second visit, the only option was a pack of the biggest tortillas I’ve ever seen. When I added it to my basket, a nearby family took note and exclaimed “mira esa tortillón!” (look at that massive tortilla!)

​On our second day in Santa Cruz, we arranged for Luis to drive us into the highlands. We started with a short hike around Los Gémelos (The Twins), a pair of volcanic sinkholes in a scenic forest. The visibility across the sinkholes was perfect – never guaranteed in the misty highlands. The dense forest was made of Scalesia trees draped with tufty moss, creating a fairytale atmosphere. We even met a few of the beautiful Galápagos doves.

​The second stop was a Lava Tunnel, a surprisingly long subterranean breezeway. Those in our group who were hesitant about tight spaces went ahead with Luis and descended the staircase on the other side, which had a taller chamber. The rest of us crawled through a 3-foot gap to reach the main part of the tunnel. There were electric lights that made the tunnel’s impressive dimensions even more dazzling. A few tiny plants that had taken root in the corners added to the primordial mystique.

​The Tortoise Sanctuary was the main draw of the highlands. We had a wonderful guide who walked us through the grounds and provided rich information about the tortoises and plants. The happy, free-ranging tortoises seemed to be enjoying their mudbaths and fresh guava. One tortoise, named Yoda, looked particularly old and wise. They can live over 100 years! Along the way, the guide pointed out a coffee tree with edible berries – one of several introduced crops that can be grown on the island.

​The tortoise shell is a giant set of fused bones, covered with keratin scales like armor plates. The shell shape depends on the sex and sub-species. The tortoise sub-species evolved based on different food sources across the archipelago. On bigger islands where moisture at higher elevations enabled the growth of taller trees, the tortoises evolved longer necks. Unfortunately, not all these sub-species survived the over-hunting of the early explorers. The celebrity tortoise Lonesome George, the last of the Pinta Island sub-species, died in 2012.

​Here at the sanctuary, it was a rosier picture. We saw dozens of tortoises during our short visit, and there seemed to be hundreds on the property. Our taxi had trouble getting out of the parking lot, as it was “parked in” by a tortoise on the driver’s side. Maybe it needed a lift to the Shell station? On the drive back to town, we saw tortoises by the side of the road, justifying the tortoise crossing signs.

We had a little siesta at the AirBNB, and then a souvenir and ice cream outing. A few memorable stores included the quirky Patas Azules ("blue feet") offering specialty socks, and the diving apparel brand Darwin + Wolf, presumably named for the two remotest islands of the archipelago where you can scuba with the sharks. I enjoyed browsing their selection and walked out with a black rashguard with a map of the Galápagos and the Darwin + Wolf logo: a shark with a diagonal red stripe, evoking the diver flag.

On our third morning in Santa Cruz, we embarked on a half-day tour of Academy Bay and Las Grietas (“the fissures”). It was a disjointed start to the day. It was our only snorkeling tour that didn’t include a wetsuit and fins, so in the morning, we visited a gear rental shop they recommended. Of course, the shop didn’t open at the time listed on Google, requiring a second visit an hour later. Once open, we frantically tried on the gear and took a taxi back to the AirBNB for our rendezvous. There, an agent from the company handed us off to a taxi driver, who left us at the pier, where another agent collected us and shepherded us onto the boat with our nature guide. We initially thought we were boarding a water taxi, as there were about 20 people tightly packed with minimal elbow room. However, this turned out to be the boat for the whole outing – a mortifying realization. The initial impression of the nature guide also wasn’t great, as he didn’t speak loudly enough for everyone to hear.

The boat stopped at a pier where we disembarked and started an overland hike to Las Grietas. The volcanic terrain was a bit technical, so my dad took it at a deliberate pace while I assisted. Around us were pink salt ponds, bare lava rocks, and sparse cactus. Very different from the lush highlands.
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The lava fissure of Las Grietas was a unique place to snorkel, with imposing walls on either side. Getting in and out of the water was a bit tricky, as the entry point was both slippery and crowded. There were some parrotfish swimming below, but otherwise not a ton to see. The wetsuits were helpful in the cold water. Even though our group was the first of the day, and it seemed that the tour companies were coordinating to stagger their arrivals, it was too small a space for the volume of visitors.

On the return journey, the nature guide offered his assistance, speeding up my dad’s progress over the rocks. It was a nice gesture that improved our impression of the guide. However, the speed wasn’t really needed. We were detoured to a snack shack, whose owner was probably in cahoots with the tour companies. And at the pier, we had to wait a while for the boat driver to pick us up. The boat was parked within earshot, and the nature guide whistled and yelled, but the driver had presumably fallen asleep and didn’t heed the call.
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The second stop was another land excursion, but more challenging than anyone expected. The pier was a janky wooden jetty with a stepladder that could only be accessed from the bow of the boat. My dad, respecting his limits, sat this one out. It was another rocky hike, and I wished I had proper shoes instead of my dilapidated hiking sandals.

​The path led to a nesting area for the blue footed boobies, where we got to see their famous courtship dance up close. It involved several males marching in place, showing off their feet through exaggerated steps, and opening their wings to strike poses. These suitors expressed their enthusiasm with whistling sounds and vigorous nodding, sometimes reciprocated by their love interest. It was both goofy and awe-inspiring at the same time, something out of a nature documentary. The boobies are not born with blue feet; rather the color becomes brighter as they eat more fish. The courtship dance is their way of advertising their fish hunting skills. The name “boobie” comes the Spanish “bobo,” meaning dummy – a reference to the birds’ gullibility around humans. They were indeed unfazed. A settled pair of boobies didn’t seem alarmed by our presence, even though we were just feet away.

​Also on the island was a channel where sharks can be seen, but the water was murky. Instead, I was held rapt by a mockingbird singing on a cactus stump.

​A few minutes after getting on the boat, it was time for a second snorkel, this time in Academy Bay. However, the water visibility was dismal. We were close to the shore and barely able to see the rocks and urchins just a foot or two below us. Disoriented fish were churned by the tides, and sea turtles were still blurry blobs even when viewed from point blank. A few minutes were all I needed before getting right back into the boat.

​On the return to Puerto Ayora, the crew's attempt to pass out drinks was thwarted by the bumpiness of the waves across Academy Bay. The fellow sitting across from me looked incredible seasick but held together. Getting off the crowded boat was a huge relief. A little comfort food was in order, taking the form of acaí bowls. It was another excellent café with a pleasant design aesthetic. My foamy latte was served in a charming square mug.

​Determined not to let the disappointing Grietas tour define the day, I set out for an afternoon adventure with my parents. There was a popular pathway that connected Puerto Ayora to the wide beaches of Tortuga Bay. It was a relief to find a straight, flat hike after so many lava rock scrambles. The path was surrounded by a forest of cactus with healthy Mickey Mouse shaped leaves. Lava lizards scrambled over the stone walls that bordered the path, offering just a glimpse of their red throats and speckled backs.

​The beach was the only significant white sand beach we visited in the Galápagos. In the first stretch, brave surfers ignored the posted warnings and rode the wild waves from the open ocean. Beyond a thicket of mangroves was a second, more protected cove. Here, groups from cruise ships lounged on the sand or played games in the clear shallows. There was also a marine iguana colony with dozens of iguanas of all sizes, and a few black lava herons.

On the return walk, we passed more families enjoying the afternoon, local teens with surfboards, and a kids soccer team running drills. We took the scenic route along the waterfront, picking up a few things at the grocery store, including a fruit called “tamarillo” (tree tomato) that I wanted to sample. Some filling burritos made with tortillón were a great ending to the day.
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Santa Cruz was the best of times and worst of times. Visiting the highlands with Luis, the walk to Tortuga Bay, and local culinary treats were simply delightful. On the other hand, the uncomfortable ferry ride on the Angel Kellie, the morning scramble to rent snorkeling gear, and the lackluster Grietas tour were some of the low points of the week. But as with many travel nightmares, their infamy gradually morphs into a sense of pride: we survived to tell the tale!

​The final country that I visited on my world tour was Ecuador, specifically the Galápagos Islands. I traveled there with my parents, brother Vince, and his wife Rachel. The Galápagos was their first destination on a longer South America trip. For me, it was a standalone 12-day trip.

It might seem a little counter-intuitive to go all the way to the Galapagos without visiting anywhere else in the region. There were three main factors at play. For one, mainland Ecuador is unfortunately experiencing a period of violence and political instability. In January, an armed gang stormed a TV station during a live broadcast. Government crackdowns have escalated into a war against the cartels, leaving locals in fear. Spending time in mainland Ecuador was nixed early in our trip planning. A shame, because there are so many beautiful places like Cotopaxi and Mindo, which I had the chance to see in 2014.

The second reason for the short trip was a happier one – I had already spent 3 months in South America during a summer abroad in Santiago, Chile. The other places my family was going, including Machu Picchu, the Atacama desert, and Iguazu Falls, were places I had ventured in 2015. The third reason was more  practical: I had already been on the move for a year, and didn't feel a need to extend the trip further.

So why go at all? For one, it was a destination high on my list. From a scientific standpoint, it was a place that frequently came up in my biology courses. My brother had studied abroad in Quito in 2012 and visited the islands with his cohort, bringing back stories of sea lions and sleeping white-tipped reef sharks. Plus, going there on a family trip also had sentimental appeal. During my months abroad, my parents had been supporting me and sharing my adventures vicariously. I liked the idea of overlapping for a chapter in South America and making travel memories together as a family. I figured having another Spanish speaker would help my family ease into the metaphorical waters of Latin America. And as it turned out, seeing the Galápagos involved a lot of time in the ocean – so I got to help with some literal easing into the water.
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After just one week in California, I was headed back to the southern hemisphere. But this time, instead of going southwest towards Polynesia and Australia, I was flying southeast to Ecuador.

It was a grueling process of getting from Point A to Point B. It started with a 5:00am flight out of SFO. Then came a 7-hour layover in Houston. We arrived in Quito around midnight. The pre-arranged taxi was too small and had to call another one. We spent the night at an airport hotel, in a dead neighborhood that didn’t feel very close to the safety of the airport. A quick breakfast of eggs and mora juice was a pleasant surprise. I was able identify the juice from the taste, drawing the word “mora” (blackberry) deep from my memory bank. Fruit juices in South America just hit different.

At the Quito airport, we had to register for a special Galápagos TCT entry card and send our bags through biosecurity prior to the normal airport check-in. By 10:30am, we were back in the air on an Avianca domestic flight. The plane didn’t go directly from Quito to the Galápagos. It briefly landed in Guayaquil. During the stopover, the cabin crew was very strict about what activities were permitted. Going to the bathroom? Missed your chance. Left on your seatbelt? Take it off. Using your electronics? Not while the plane is refueling. It was all very strange. At least the flight from the mainland to the islands was a merciful 1.5 hours.

When we stepped off the plane onto the island of San Cristóbal, I couldn’t believe we were actually in the Galápagos. Not only was it a long journey, but there were several setbacks in the months prior. Our first set of flights on Jetblue had been partially cancelled, then fully canceled. Our second set of flights on Aeromexico were also canceled. We finally found a third set with United that worked. We suspect the drop in tourism to mainland Ecuador was a factor in the cancellations. If so, our third flight may have been saved by a coincidence – the Copa America was being hosted in the USA during our trip, drawing Ecuadorian tourists the other way. Another lucky break was the Galapagos entry fee. We paid $100 upon arrival, but in a few weeks, it would increase to $200.

All of the taxis in the Galápagos were white pickup trucks with room for a driver plus 4 people inside. This posed a problem for our group of 5. Thankfully, in most cases we were allowed a passenger riding in the back with the luggage. Rachel was the first to volunteer on our drive from the airport to our AirBNB. There, our bilingual host who now lived in Colorado, gave us a tour of apartment.
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The apartment on San Cristóbal was comfortable. It was on the second floor and had a lovely balcony next to a flowering tropical plant. There were three bedrooms, so I was lucky to have my own. The walls were decorated with posters of Ecuadorian hummingbirds, including the comical sword-billed hummingbird. It had a few quirks. A questionable choice of decoration, a 3D holographic shark with its mouth open, stared up from the dining room table. The plastic-wrapped door stopper looked like a brick of cocaine. But hey, that's part of the AirBNB experience.

There were, however, a few legitimate challenges. One of the two toilets didn’t flush well, even after the host took a second look and thought it was fine. We had to be mindful of food scraps, due to the aggressive ants. And the kitchen was bare bones, to the point of being negligent. Cooking in a place where the tap water isn’t safe to drink is already hard enough… you have to boil or use bottled water for everything including cleaning dishes. Yet the kitchen lacked a tea kettle and microwave. To boil water, you had to manually light the stove using a measly box of matches that was barely up to the task. Few of the pots had lids, prolonging the time to reach boiling. Even a basic pasta and veggie dinner was a nightmare. I accidentally burned my hand on a pot handle, further adding to the frustration (there were no potholders, and maybe one dish towel). But we still succeeding in having some basic hot meals, like black bean burgers.

The main town on San Cristóbal, called Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, charmed us all with its waterfront and laid-back pace. There were piers, parklets, and murals with native animals. Instead of big chain stores, there were mom & pop grocery stores and specialty hardware stores with boating parts. It also felt safe, which I honestly hadn't expected.

Our first big adventure was a full day tour called San Cristóbal 360, a boating trip that circumnavigated the island with snorkeling stops. We started at the company’s storefront, conveniently just down the street from the AirBNB, where we tried on wetsuits, masks, and fins. (Compared to some of our later tours on other islands, the San Cristóbal fitting experience was a breeze.)
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Our nature guide for the day, Jonathan, walked us down to the pier where we took a water taxi to the main boat, the Coyote II. There was one other family aboard, of Ecuadorian-Puerto Rican origin, who spoke a mix of English and Spanish. Seating options included sitting at the very back by the motor, which was more stable when bouncing over waves but didn’t have a back support, versus inside the cabin which was bouncier but protected from the wind.

​The first stop was snorkeling at an imposing rock formation called Kicker Rock, located off the northern coast. From a distance, the two halves of Kicker Rock looked like a giant shoe. The steep cliffs visible above the surface continued deep into the ocean. Swimming around the outer perimeter was swimming next to an underwater wall... a little disorienting at first but incredibly unique. There was also a shallower channel that cut through the two halves of the rock. The bottom was visible within this natural breezeway.

​The initial entry into the water was a moment of apprehension. We were armed with wetsuits and floating life vests, but were up against the cold and open ocean. There was no ladder – we swung our legs over the side of the boat. My mom was the first one to bravely take the plunge. Soon we were all in the water, acclimating to the initial temperature shock. The void of the unseen depths was a little scary, but there were plenty of distractions like a sea lion swimming below.

​The rock wall was full of delightful details. Spiky sea urchins with thick needles filled the crevices. I spotted a hieroglyphic hawkfish blending in with the mottled surface. The fan favorite was the “chocolate chip starfish," a fitting name (or maybe we were just hungry).

The ocean waves threatened to drive us into the rock wall, so we had to be careful not to get too close. Meanwhile, the tides lifted and dropped us by an amplitude of a few feet.
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In the shallow channel, there were schools of creolefish, king angelfish, yellowtail surgeonfish, and parrotfish. They nibbled at a current of continuously flowing particles, drifting with the current themselves. We were hoping to see some hammerhead sharks, but they weren’t around. Overall it was an amazing place to snorkel, and a highlight of the islands.

​We climbed back into the boat and warmed up. The boat continued on the 360 route, stopping for a photo op at Cerro Brujo ("wizard mountain"), a neighboring rock formation that looked like a sideways face with a pointy hat. Then we parked in a protected bay for a mix of beach time and more snorkeling. The water here was a bit murky, but we still got to see turtles in the shallows.

​As we passed the halfway point of Punta Pitt, the boat crew cast two fishing lines. I guess it was meant to be a demonstration of low volume sustenance fishing, but they didn’t really give any context. The Galápagos is big on sustainability, including limits on commercial fishing. The catch of the day was a wahoo, which was dramatically reeled in and stored in a cleaning area by the motor. Later in the afternoon, the crew served wahoo sashimi, which was fresh and tasty. We didn’t finish it all, and the crew casually tossed the scraps back into the water. Guess the sharks were having sashimi for lunch too.

​Throughout the day, there were many interesting ocean birds. The frigate birds were large, black scavengers with sharply angled wings and a scissorlike tail. In fact, their Spanish name “tijeretas” is derived from “tijeras,” meaning scissors. The male frigate birds have a bright red throat, which they inflate like a giant balloon to attract mates. There were also blue-footed and red-footed boobies. The red-footed ones hunt farther away from land, so this tour was our main chance to see them. (We later saw blue footed boobies up close… more on that next time!)

​The final stop was at Bahia Rosa Blanca. We took a small pontoon boat to the land and started a short hike. Galápagos conservation efforts focus on leaving the landscapes untouched, so the “trail” was a field of raw, sharp volcanic rock. Since my dad’s balance and depth perception are limited, this was a challenge. My brother and I held his hands for support while he took each step carefully. Rather than going all the way around the lagoon to the normal launch point, we convinced Jonathan to let my dad use a closer launch point, even though it was bending the park rules. Vince and Rachel stayed with my dad, while my mom and I went ahead with Jonathan. Once in the water, I swam back to help my dad into the water. A shark swam past right as I was approaching! The two of us reunited with the group in the water.

The water was murky, but the guide found a few white-tipped reef sharks that were resting on the bottom. They were just dark blurs from the surface, but I was able to swim down and get a closer look. One of them stirred as I approached. They were much bigger than the black-tipped reef sharks I’d seen in French Polynesia and therefore a little more intimidating. (While this was a good first impression, we had even better white-tipped shark encounters on Isabela, the third island.)
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We switched from the interior lagoon to the exterior bay for one more round of snorkeling, trading the sharks for sea lions and sea turtles. It was my first time swimming in close proximity to the playful sea lions, and loved the way they lazily spiraled through the water. In the mix were a few enormous turtles, an astounding sight. They must have been the size of a truck bed, with a fin-span of a few meters. These lumbering dinosaurs slowly browsed the algae on the rocks, seemingly unfazed by our presence.

​Getting my dad back over the lava field, into the pontoon, and aboard the Coyote II was a success. Unfortunately, while we were enjoying our sashimi and pineapple snack, the rocking of the moored boat caused him to fall on the open deck. Thankfully he walked away with minor scrapes only, but it was a reminder that swaying boats were just as hazardous as the rocky terrain.

During the final leg of the boat journey, an enormous pod of bottlenose dolphins put on an acrobatic show for us. They rode the wake of the boat, raced alongside us, and leaped above the surface, sometimes higher than their own body length! Talk about showing off.

​We made it back to Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, and tipped Jonathan for a good tour. He humbly tried to disappear without giving us an opportunity to tip, but intercepted him. Afterwards, my parents and I decided to find a happy hour drink by the waterfront. We passed a beach that was taken over by sea lions, and a road with sea lions passed out in parking spaces. Mojitos were procured, and from the bar, we watched the movements of the boats and birds in the harbor. On the walk back to the AirBNB, we saw a maintenance team removing huge clusters of coconuts from a palm tree, evidently defusing a ticking time bomb.

In the evening, we watched Ecuador play in a Copa America game against Argentina. Ecuador managed to score a tying goal, forcing a sudden death shootout. We could hear cheers and screams of excitement from the street. As the spectacle unfolded, I munched on a bag of tostones with tajin seasoning, the perfect Latin American snack food. Unfortunately, Ecuador lost the shootout, snuffing the locals’ hopes.
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The next morning, we visited the Environmental Interpretation Center, a museum with information about the island’s history and ecology. Like other volcanic archipelagos, the Galápagos are the peaks of underwater mountains, spread out by the easterly motion of the Nazca tectonic plate across a hotspot. Our current location, San Cristóbal, was the oldest and easternmost island. Our trip would end to the west in Isabela, where the volcanic activity was stronger.

The Galápagos is biologically rich in part because it sits at the convergence of several major ocean currents. The Humboldt Current brings cold, nutrient rich water from the south. The Panama Current brings warm water from the north. The Cromwell Current brings in more cold water from the west. These currents brought seeds and plants to the island, but only hardy plants like cacti could take root.  Similarly, the native animal species, like marine iguanas and land tortoises, were all reptiles durable enough to survive the journey on rafts of vegetation.
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Darwin’s visit aboard the Beagle in 1835 continues to be the islands’ biggest claim to fame. His observations of the subtle differences in the finches and tortoises across the archipelago helped shape his theory of evolution. A map of the Beagle’s route showed that Darwin too had enjoyed a 360 tour of San Cristóbal.

The museum had an exhibit comparing finch beak morphologies to different types of tools. My favorite unusual finch incarnations included the woodpecker finch that digs up food by wielding a twig in its mouth, and the vampire finch that sucks the blood of other birds.

The history section of the museum described various attempts to colonize the island, including whalers, pirates, and a failed utopian prison colony. Human settlement, both past and current, seemed to be limited by a paucity of freshwater sources. The absence of a pre-colonial indigenous population struck me as a rare thing to find anywhere in the world.
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The museum was also the start of a path to the pretty Tijeretas Lookout. There were indeed some tijeretas (frigate birds) circling the skies. The trail descended to a funky Darwin statue with oddly proportioned features and a platform where snorkelers could enter the water. We saw turtles, pelicans, and even a marine iguana swimming. An aggressive but cute sea lion hopped up on the platform and made it clear our time was up. Their bite is worse than their bark, so we scurried up the stairs to get away.

​We found the most wonderful spot for lunch, a restaurant with a set menu called Muyu. We loved the quinoa soup, fish entrée, mini dessert, and vegan substitutions for Rachel and Vince. The tableware was made of volcanic rock, including the bowls of aji, a staple chili sauce in Ecuador. A hidden gem like Muyu was one of the perks of seeing the Galápagos “DIY” style, versus an organized cruise.

​In the afternoon, Edison (the taxi driver we met when we first arrived) took us into the highlands to visit La Galapaguera, a tortoise sanctuary. On the way there, I sat in the passenger seat and chatted with Edison in Spanish. I learned that tourism numbers had only bounced back to 70% of their pre-COVID numbers. He pointed out different fruit trees, and told me about his favorite spots in mainland Ecuador.

​The sanctuary could only be visited with a nature guide, and ours was a bit of a tortoise himself. He was wise and spoke slowly with deliberate words. We learned that some of the tortoises were over 100 years old! They were surprisingly mobile despite their bulky shells. Our group walked through the grounds, stopping wherever the tortoises happened to be hanging out. A nursery with protective chicken wire kept the little tortoises safe from predators. We learned that the tortoise breeding program had been so successful that it was no longer active on San Cristobal. Fun fact, the name “Galápagos” is a reference to these tortoises – it’s a Spanish word for "saddle," alluding to the saddle-shaped shells.

On the return to town, I rode in the truck bed and soaked in the greenery of the highlands. It was misty and cold at times, a microclimate within the island, with funny glimpses into country life. One truck going in the other direction was full of black dogs, looking back at me. A person standing in the shoulder was holding an upside-down pig with its feet tied up.
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It was our last night on San Cristóbal. We walked to Playa Mann to see the sunset from this popular viewing beach. The makeup of the crowd was about half people and half sea lions. One baby sea lion searched the whole beach for its group, briefly considered joining ours, then found the right one. It was a great atmosphere.

​San Cristóbal was an excellent introduction to the archipelago. Coming up next post: our visit to the island of Santa Cruz, the biggest population center.

​In the final chapter of the Moorea wedding week, the scene shifted from the mountainside AirBNB villas to the oceanside Sofitel hotel. Here, we spent two nights at the peak of French Polynesia luxury – in the iconic overwater bungalows. The cost of accommodation was covered by the bride and groom, which was an extremely generous gift to us family members. We knew how special it was to stay there and savored every moment.

The bungalows were ready for check-in, meaning we could get our first peek inside. I stayed in a bungalow with my mom and dad, which turned out to be the very first one as we walked down the boardwalk. The other three bungalows were a little further down.

In the middle of the floor, a small square window offered a view into the water below. There was even a special light switch to turn on the light below the bungalow.​

​Everyone’s favorite hangout spot was the back patio, which had a comfortable wicker chair and overlooked the lagoon. It was the perfect place to enjoy a Hinano beer from the room’s fridge.

​From the patio, a concrete staircase led directly into the water, meaning we could launch a snorkeling expedition from the room itself. The hotel had a dive center where we borrowed fins and masks for the duration of the visit.

​It was amazing to be this close to the aquatic world. Instead of bird watching, I spent time fish watching. We saw a long, thin fish that Google Lens identified as a houndfish. Where else in the world do you get houndfish in your backyard? I had never even seen a houndfish before, and yet there I was watching one from the hotel room.

​Dinner was with a smaller group, as a few folks were exhausted from the busy day (and past week!) Bucking the seafood trend, I tried the Sofitel's roast duck. It was served with a crispy almond coating, a rich tangy sauce on the side, and pureed sweet potatoes. I savored each bite of this meal that channeled the “French” in French Polynesia. Also of note were the hibiscus gin and tonic, and unusual dessert with lime and chocolate.

​The next morning, the breakfast buffet was staggering in scope. There were typical American, European, and Asian breakfast foods, plus tropical fruit and a crepe station. I had everything from dumplings and dragon fruit to bagels and banana juice.

​After sleeping above the water for a night, I was excited to get out into the water. One didn’t need to go far to encounter beautiful coral and fish. The support pillars underneath the bungalows were teeming with life! A small black fish, likely some kind of cleaner wrasse, would even nip at our legs while getting in and out. There were schools of long-nosed fish floating in the shadows of the boardwalk, tiny blue fish nibbling at the columns of coral, and an occasional feeding frenzy when food mysteriously appeared from the heavens above (i.e. someone throwing food into the water from a patio). The vertically mounted coral was like a natural art gallery, vibrant and eye-catching.

​The snorkeling at the Sofitel had some of the best animal sightings of any snorkeling I’ve ever done. There were plenty of old friends like the banded triggerfish, raccoon butterflyfish, clownfish, and parrotfish. Some new friends included a large school of convict surgeonfish, their jailbird stripes mesmerizing en masse, and an enormous titan triggerfish picking up coral fragments in its mouth.

​We swam alongside sea turtles at close proximity, matching their unhurried pace. The water was clear and calm, with a current going towards the bungalows. Eventually the turtles latched onto the current and were whisked away.

​I was stunned to spot a moray eel. At first, it was swimming completely exposed above the reef, enormous and billowing. When it saw me, it retreated into the forest of coral, where it was extremely well camouflaged. I eventually located its head within the bramble, its jaw slightly agape in a stereotypical eel grin. I normally think of moray eels hiding in a rock hole, so seeing one in the open reef was unexpected and lucky.

​Arguably the star of the show was the spotted eagle ray. More diamond-shaped than the rounded stingrays, the eagle rays were fast and hard to keep up with. Kicking with all my strength, I was able to follow one going at a leisurely speed. Suddenly, with a flick of the wings, it doubled its speed and disappeared. There several eagle rays that we all got to spend time following them. It was incredible to see them in the wild. Many years ago, I had a fantasy baseball called the Eagle Rays, or E-Rays for short. At long last, I got to meet my official mascot.

I'm particularly proud of this video reel that I made using my GoPro footage:

There were multiple ways to enjoy the lagoon that didn’t involve snorkeling. Roy and Gri rented a paddleboat. My brother tried to sneak up on them from the water, but the paddleboat was faster than he bargained for! Cheryl rented a kayak, while Rachel paraded on a stand-up paddleboard. The lagoon could also be accessed by a public beach. I would definitely return to the lagoon even if I wasn’t staying at the Sofitel.

We continued to eat our way through the Sofitel’s lunch and dinner menus. There were some tasty tuna bowls, noodles, ceviches, and burgers. The burger orders were met with some uncalled-for snark from the waitress (“you came all the way here to have a burger?”) but otherwise, the wait staff was friendly. We occasionally were approached by a charming orange cat, which the wait staff scooped up and relocated.

​Being with a fun group really elevated the stay. We played a raucous game of ping pong, made more difficult by the dull ball and the players’ consumption of alcoholic Tahiti drink. We also debuted a brutal card game called Uno: No Mercy, provided by Cheryl, in which players are knocked out by reaching a 25 card limit. There were some dramatic eliminations, cheeky smack talk, and a final showdown that had everyone on the edge of their seat. It was an instant favorite.

From there, our group divided once again, with four people continuing their vacation in Bora Bora, and the other five of us returning to the US. Those going home checked out in the morning, but stayed at the Sofitel property until it was time for the ferry. We had a light snack at a nearby beach hut, also run by the Sofitel. The wraps were delivered from the main kitchen via golf cart. A rainstorm arrived, which made us appreciate how lucky we got with the weather on our activity days. ​
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It was time to leave paradise behind and once again face the woes of transportation. The rain had picked up and it was a Saturday afternoon, both contributing to the chaotic scene at the ferry terminal. People tried to keep their bags (and selves) out of the downpour, while large groups became bottlenecks at the ticket gate. But the chaos had a lively, local energy. People with musical instruments found a corner of the cabin and had a jam session.

It was dark by the time we reached Tahiti. One of the forklifts, carrying three luggage containers, nearly lost control of the stack. There was no Uber on the island, so we waited at the taxi rank. The taxis weren’t big enough for 5 people with luggage, so we had to take two. In our taxi, Rachel had a great conversation with the driver about different islands in the archipelago. As we drove through the city, there were Olympic banners on display. Since France was the host country for the 2024 Olympics, the surfing events would be taking place in French Polynesia. The games were just a few weeks away – the driver seemed excited.

Vince and Rachel had warned us that security could be strict at the Tahiti Airport. Sure enough, I was pulled aside for an extra screening. When I picked up my checked suitcase, it had an inspection card inside, though I could tell it had been opened from the way my stuff was shuffled around. At security, they even took some of the group’s souvenir jams, which was a bummer.
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Boarding the flight required crossing the tarmac in the rain. The agents handed us umbrellas at the building exit, which was a nice touch. Soon, we were in the air, headed to San Francisco.

​After 8 months, I finally set foot in California again. Though even the last leg of the journey was an adventure. With a little ambition and persuading of a skeptical driver, we squeezed 5 people and all of the luggage into a single Uber XL, riding with heavy suitcases on our laps.

However, the world travels didn’t end there! The visit to California was just a transition week. While I did enjoy the comforts of home, like a burger and shake at In-n-Out burger, the week was focused on Vince and Rachel’s local wedding celebrations. We went to SF City Hall for their legal ceremony and hosted a gathering of friends at the local swim club.
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My dad, an avid swimmer, found returning to the pool to be quite disappointing after the amazing fish in the Sofitel lagoon. His comment underscored what a special time we had in French Polynesia. I’ll never forget the eagle rays, turtles, eels, and tropical fish that were just a staircase away.