If you already own a D-Link G604T wireless router, then you can upgrade it to the G624T model, simply by flashing the firmware. The 624 firmware has many more configurable options, including much improved support for ADSL2+. Here’s what to do.

Crossroads. The title of one of Eric Clapton’s (well, Cream*) greatest tracks and an awful chick-flick starring Britney “bury me in a Y-shaped coffin\*” Spears. But both (presumably**) discuss the same topic - being at a juncture in life with various paths ahead of you.

A little perspective: I have left Mexico and returned to the US for a brief repose from the whole travelling thing. It was reasonably easy to leave Mexico, 7 weeks in moreorless the same place (Puerto Escondido) was enough. The surf had dropped off and I had had my fill of beautiful beaches, perfect weather and an endless supply of cocktails. It was about 10 minutes in to the flight out, that I began to wonder if any of that was actually true. How, exactly, had I had my fill of the beautiful beaches, perfect weather and endless supply of cocktails? Why was I trading it all for cold weather, city life and American people?

I’ve extricated myself from Puerto Escondido for a few days, for a quick jaunt down the coast to Barra de la Cruz. This place knocks the socks off Puerto. There are really no words to describe just exactly how amazing it is here. So I’m going to let Phil do it for me:

´Nuff said.

-MT

(I know this a copout from a real post. I will be doing that shortly when I’m not sat in an expensive Internet cafe.)

Regular readers (or in fact, anyone who can deduce the time between two different dates) might be wondering why I haven’t updated the blog in a while. I would love to say that it’s because, in the last couple of weeks, I have been so busy doing varied and wonderful things that I simply haven’t had the time. Sadly, well it’s actually not sad at all, but it’s not the case. Puerto Escondido is an almost magical place that posseses an inate ability to simply suck away time. My principal reason for coming here was for the surf - and surfing I have been doing - but it’s impossible to escape, not that you’d especially want to, the chilled out beach atmosphere of the small town, and simply hang around, doing little other than sleeping, swimming, surfing, sitting on the beach, all mixed together with the odd cerveza or 17. The temperature is regularly in the 30’s, the sun is always shining, people are happy, and spending hours mulling over suitable words to describe the experience here is often far too much effort. Well, that’s my excuse anyway.

A brief interpose to the usual witty and genial banterings for a video update. The first, one of the coolest things I have ever seen: a TV on a lightswitch. Every house should have one. Found in a hotel in Morelia, Mexico.

The second, some random Mexican singing. Found in a bar in Mexico City, one is a (drunk) Mexican, the second (doing his best Che Guevara impression) is a (drunk) American. I have no idea what they were singing about, but it was entertaining nevertheless.

As we left Morelia, it quickly became evident that we were heading in just one direction - up. Destination: Zitacuaro at an altitude of around 2000m. The bus takes about 1.5 hours, but that’s largely due to it being a bus in the more traditional sense of the term, that is, it stopped at moreorless every lamppost on the way to pick up all and sundry. But at 100 pesos (about 4.5 quid), we weren’t complaining. Zitacuaro turned out to be a much condensed version of Mexico City - vibrant and active during the day with a seemingly neverending market - but at night there was little to do. Indeed, when we asked the owner of our hotel where we could get some good Mexican grub and maybe a few beers, we felt sure it was our dodgy Spanish that was indicating there were neither bars nor restaurants. As it turned out, there were no restaurants and only one bar, which, touted as a video bar, which was little more than a room with a TV in. Nevertheless, a few Coronas and a great deal of complimentary popcorn later, we were reasonably fulfilled.

In case you were wondering, one of the hardest parts of writing this blog, is picking a good title for each post. I’m absolutely aware that the title of this post shares the same name as British warbler James Blunt’s first album, which is unfortunate at the very least. However, as I prepared to venture back to Mexico and in to Mexico City, I was equally aware of the reputation of the city - absolutely enormous, jam packed full of people and chaotic beyond imagination. Bedlam seems like a good word to describe my expectation. As it turns out, however, it is not an apt moniker nor is the reputation particularly deserved.

Well, when I say “one night”, I, of course, mean “about 14 nights or so” in New York, but I’m sure there’s an expression along those lines. Maybe, it was “One Night in San Francisco”, but then I wasn’t in San Francisco so it wouldn’t have made a great deal of sense. In fact, technically speaking, I wasn’t even in New York (it was Stamford, Connecticut) so largely speaking it’s a nonsensical title and a peculiar way to start this latest entry.

My first impression of Cancún was simple. “Oh my God, I want to get out of here.” Fortunately, it turned out to be slightly unwarranted, but the majority of what you hear about Cancún is true. It is full of hotels and fast food chains, it is full of fat tourists and it is full of locals trying to get your money. I was instantly ripped off by the taxi driver. Late in the evening without a clue where I was, I had been persuaded to accept the overpriced taxi with the promise that if the hostel I was heading to was full, then they wouldn’t leave me until we found one that was available. Well needless to say, as I exited the taxi, after making the driver promise that he would wait, tyres screeched as he left me stranded. Not a great start to my time in Cancún.

After a short break in Havana to collect my main rucksack from my casa, Alice, Mum and I were on the bus to Viñales in the Pinar del Rio valley. I’d been persuaded to visit on the grounds of it being a popular destination, but really had few expectations. The bus arrived in Viñales, and we were met with the worst throng of eager local casa-owners that I’d experienced. It was literally a mob scene, as we wrestled our way through to try and recover our bags from the coach, we were bombarded from every direction by people with their business cards, frantically trying to persuade us to stay with them. We were totally disinclined to stay with any of them, despite the fact that we had no reservation. The Lonely Planet had recommended a place and we had decided to check it out first. They were full, however, the owners took us to another casa two houses up the street, and after inspecting the accommodation were happy to check in.