Market maze

Oversized pinatas, mayan threads, pirated & 2nd hand clothing, electrical goods, local produce, live animals - the maze that is the Antiguan market is an addiction. Maybe its the fact everything is crazy cheap, the fact our attention is easily stolen by bright colours, or the fact that the smell of BBQ meat forces a purchase everytime, but we got lost in this market hours on end on multiple occasions.

One of the highlights has to be the biggest 2nd hand clothing store I’ve ever seen. About 200 metres long, this latin american vinnes has some epic finds - vintage shirts, T’s, jackets, jeans from all over the world. Couple of scores included an old school smoking jacket and a bunch of 80’s T’s and singlets that would have lasted 5 minutes in a Vinnes store in Oz.

After 2 hours on our first visit we found a nice dingy little local bar that served up 2 litres of Gallo cerveza for $4. Smashing through a few oversized longnecks, we spoke of the potential of the week ahead and then it came to us in a vision. We were to rally the troops, hire a few tuk-tuks for the day, secure a few litres of Bacardi and party on wheels around Antigua. The Tuk-Tuk Fiesta was born.

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Cobble stones in Guatemala

Nestled in between 3 volcanos in the highands of Guatemala, the town of Antigua is unlike any other in Central America. This 17th century, heritage listed town immaculately retains its original colonial architecture, the streets are spotless and vibrant mayan colours are seen on every corner. Even though the place is littered with tourists, it doesn’t feel as westernised as other towns in the region - eg Costa Rica. Most outsiders are here studying spanish, volunteering or using Antigua as a base for a huge range of adventure activities... or getting hammered 7 days a week.

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No waves?

What do you do in a tiny surf village when there is no swell? Buy some local rum, a bunch of cigars, a few beers, then find an abandoned restaurant overlooking the bay to get loose for the arvo.

Then then back to base for a bonfire and a good old tazering.

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Local places and faces

Scuba Steve the Oyster machine

Tazer and Papa Ay-yai-yai who runs the surf camp from his hammock

Looking back at Las Flores from the point

Local cowboys

Trekking through the broken down fishing of village El Cuco

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Rum shots and sponsor stickers

Its a sweet little routine - waves, hammock time, then well deserved beers on the beach. As the sun began to set, the fire was ignited and over dinner we discussed what it would take for Adam to take a tazer right to his back. After alot of bargaining with all parties involved, Adam settled on 1 fish dinner and 1 bottle of rum. Super excited, we immediately had a pre pro meeting discussing cast, props and camera angles. With all the talk of Adam’s inevitable electrocution, he vanished into the darkness, returning about 20mins later with a pretty accomplished look on his face. He’d just ventured over to the Billabong Girls Surf Camp, selling them in on the apparent fiesta we were having, roaring fire, epic tunes and handsome dudes. Skeptical if the girls would actually show, the ordinary fire still got some subtle attention. Then to the sound of the local dogs barking, 10 girls emerged from the darkness - beers and rum in hand. From then on things got pretty loose - constant shots, tazer antics, Adam’s theatrics, fire attention, fingers through a fan and chickas passing out on the sand.

 

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Walls of Las Flores

With the swell building the last couple of days, the crew got some good hours up in the water. Breaking over rock in front of the headland, the point is a real fast right hander that barrels on take off (getting pretty sketchy sometimes), then walls up all the way through the beach. At 5-6ft we were all getting some pretty long rides. It should be a pretty crazy wave when the swell picks up a couple more feet. Hopefully arrives in the next week.

With average stoke levels of the crew sitting at 93% over the last couple of days, its only fitting to treat this accomplishment with some cervezas right on our doorstep.

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Popoyo to Las Flores

Following a building swell north to El Salvador, we had a night in Managua before getting the 5am bus. Contrary to what Lonely Planet told us, Barrio Martha Quezada - the area around the bus terminal was a full on ghetto. I’d reserved us a night at a reputable hostel, only to have a street hustler direct us into his building telling us it was the same place. Out of pure laziness, even though we were pretty sketch on the place and the shady characters around it, we decided to stay the night - would allow us to get on the beers earlier.

 

By chance we stumbled upon a German bar on some random street, greeted by owner ‘David’. Telling us he only opens the doors when he feels like it, we followed him into his empty bar. Clearly drunk by his slurring and decision to wear Ray-Bans inside the dark room, he cracked open 4 Tonas and slid them across the bar. Proud of the fact his fridge was set at -7 degrees C, we got down to storytime. Our travel stories, his impressions of our personalities on face value, suicidal surfers, conspiracies of the world, his story (fighting for a rebel army, robbing banks, opening bars, his Nica family) and other general crap. After a whole heap of beers, dinner at a restaurant around the corner, then more beers at ‘David’, the man himself vanished into the darkness - his ex-wife who was looking after the bar had no idea where he was.

 

Next morning at 4am, we were stoked to awaken unharmed with all our gear untouched. For an 8 hour travel day including border crossings though Honduras and El Salvador, everything went relatively smooth. Eventually touching down in tiny coastal village Las Flores, we were all very impressed to see the place was sporting an epic right point break. Getting a place 50m to the water and next door Adam and Nick - 2 Americans we met in Popoyo, a fiesta was in order to celebrate new waves ahead. Who would have thought that beer, rum and a tazer gun could prove so much fun.

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