Honduras

Copan Ruinas

My nice three-hour, non-air-conditioned, but greyhound type bus trip to the border turned out to be a small, cramped, non-air-conditioned, 7-hour ride to the border, but it was okay. At least I didn't have to worry about changing buses and it was a lot cheaper than a shuttle (not that I could actually find one in Rio Dulce Town, which is odd because there are normally a dozen tour companies anywhere that tourists congregate). At the last major city before the border, Chiquimula, I meet a fellow lone traveler headed my direction. Gert, a Dutch citizen from Amsterdam, became by travel partner for the next two and a half days (he was also later joined by Halima, an American from Washington, DC).

Our minibus dropped us at the border, El Florido, where we changed money with the local walking and talking banks, paid entrance and exit fees, and then walked 100 yards to the Honduran border. From there we caught a minibus the last 12 km into town.

Copan Ruinas is the town just west of the ruins themselves and is like a mini version of Antigua. The city has cobblestone streets and hosts an eclectic selection of restaurants and hostel/hotel options. Gert and I checked ourselves into the Manzana Verde, one of the only dormitories in the city and then went to explore. Besides a central square (Parque Central) with its requisite church and a small archaeological museum, there isn't much here. The town is laid out in a grid and contains mostly food, lodging, and overpriced souvenirs, but it's pretty, clean, and safe.

We grabbed some food and then later followed that up with some drinks at another restaurant, ViaVia, where we acquired our third musketeer, Halima. Halima, was traveling with a friend, but they split for a few days so that her friend (a Greek girl named Artmis, how cool is that?) could go dive in Belize.

Copan

The next morning, the Three Musketeers set out for the Copan ruins, which are 1 km outside of town. Copan is considered to be on of the preeminent Maya ruins due to it's overwhelming legacy of artist craftsmanship that has survived all this time. The site itself is very small in comparison to say Tikal (which is why most guidebooks suggest that you visit Copan before Tikal...whoops), but makes up for what it lacks in size with was it leaves behind. The entire site is crammed with stelaes and altars, doorways, staircases, and sculptures all etched, carved, and morphed into beautiful pieces of historical art.

The site also contains two tunnels that were left by the archaeologists for the public. In Honduras and it seems most of Central America, the archaeologists don't want to potentially ruin any of the ruins by digging through them to get to the lower levels (previous occupations) and so they dig tunnels underneath the upper most structures. These tunnels allow them access to what would normally never be found and then are traditionally filled back in and covered up after the excavation portion of a dig is over. At Copan, two of the tunnels were left open so that visitors could see the partial remanants of a full temple that was built under a pyramid and also the remains of a living space under another temple.

The Rosalila Tunnel is the one that shows a glimpse of the temple, but is disappointing in that the tunnel is only about 100 ft long and the one section of the temple that is visible is behind Plexiglas that was fogged up. The Jaguar Tunnel was better in that there were twisting pathways and multiple walkways that you could venture down. It still wasn't huge, but nicer than the first tunnel.

One of the other attractions that Copan is famous for is the hieroglyphic staircase. The staircase is 10 meters (33 ft) high and has a total of 62 steps. The stairway takes its name from the 2200 glyphs written across the steps, that together form the longest known Maya hieroglyphic text known to man. The text itself is still being reconstructed, having been scrambled by the collapse of the glyphic blocks when the façade of the temple collapsed. In addition to the detailed stairs, there is a large sculpted figure located in the centre of every 12th step. These figures are believed to represent the most important rulers in the dynastic history of the site. The staircase measures 21 meters (69 ft) long and was first built by Uaxaclajuun Ub'aah K'awiil in AD 710, being reinstalled and expanded in the following phase of the temple by K'ak' Yipyaj Chan K'awiil in AD 755.

After touring the ruins for a few hours, we headed to the museum. This was probably one of the best museums that I've been too. The entrance is a long tunnel that is supposed to represent passage into the underworld. You come out into a large open room that contains a full size replica of the Rosalila Temple in all it's splendor in the center and other artifacts artfully set around the edges of the building. The bottom floor of the museum is dedicated to the underworld and the art associated with that. There is a ramp that then leads to the second level, which represents the earth or world in which humans exist. At the top of the museum, there is an open space that represents the heavens. It's quite nice.

The museum is filled with many of the original altars and sculptures that were recovered at Copan and at the neighboring Las Sepulturas ruins. Some of these are whole fronts of buildings, or welcoming gifts from pass rulers, or burial adornments. Attached to everything was an informational sign in both English and Spanish, allowing me to take my time and actually know what each piece was about.

Las Sepulturas Ruins

The admission fee to Copan also grants you access to the nearby ruins of Las Sepulturas. The Sepulturas Group was one of the residential wards and suburban centers of varying sizes and complexities found in the Copan Valley. It was second in importance only to the group that was found where the modern town of Copan Ruinas has since been constructed.

Some of the dwellings found at Las Sepulturas have been dated to Early Preclassic times and to Middle Preclassic times. The complex featured large cobble-built platforms and several wealthy tombs. Another interesting feature at Las Sepulturas is the evidence of a non-Maya population living in this important sector. Whether they were specialized merchants or political agents from abroad is still under debate, what is for certain is that they were important players in the affairs of state at Copan during the period starting around 800 A.D.

This group was connected to the Great Plaza at Copan by a causeway, so there are strong reasons to believe Las Sepulturas may have been a residential area, where rich and powerful nobles once lived.

Gert, Halima, and I toured the site by following the well worn path around and then headed back to town, trying to stay one step ahead of the rain, but not quite making it.

Butterfly Preserve

Back in town, Gert and I left Halima (who wanted to head back to the hostel for a nap) and headed to the Enchanted Wings Butterfly Reserve that was just outside of town. The reserve is small, but houses a decent number of different Lepidoptera. The butterflies are housed in an outdoor building with nets for sides. There was one butterfly that had no problem being on people as it settled itself on both Gert and me and even allowed me to pry its wings open so that I could take a picture of the iridescent blue that covers the inside of its wings (the outside was dull grays and browns and contained fake eyes and made the butterfly appear to be an unappetizing moth to predators).

Funny Aside and a Final Day in Antigua

A funny little side story: When Gert and I had originally ended up in Copan Ruinas and gone to our hostel, I paid for two nights in advance and Gert only paid for one. He talked to the girl and told her he was probably going to stay longer and she said that was fine, he could pay on a day-to-day basis. This is where it gets funny. There is not much communication between the night girl and the day girl and so when we got back to the hostel after looking at the butterflies, we noticed that Gert no longer had a bed, the hostel was booked up and he was out.

When the girl was confronted with this, she gave a half-hearted shrug and then proceeded to explain that she open a cot and he could have that for the same price as a normal bed. The thing is, the cot was about 5 ft long and sagged in the middle where it was usually folded in half to be stored. Gert is about 6' 4". When he went to lay on the bed not only did his feet (all the way to mid calf) hang off, but the mattress pretty much caved and disappeared so that Gert might as well have been sleeping directly on the rickety springs of the fold out cot. He looked so forlorn that I had to take a picture. The whole time that the girl is setting this up, she's mumbling that this isn't her job and she shouldn't have to do this, this lead to the belief that she pocketed the money for his crashing on the cot and never logged Gert in as a traveler staying at the hostel for the night.

Later that evening, a man and his two kids showed up to accept the three beds they'd previously reserved online for the week. After about ten minutes in the hostel (pretty much the time it took to explain that after 8pm there is no electricity or running water due to the storms that follow the coming of night and the town's inability to deal with it) and they ditched out (well as soon as two other people showed up to claim the abdicated beds so that they could get their money back).

This fortuitous event lead to one last real bed being free. The girl refused to let Gert move to it stating that she put so much work into setting the other bed up (yes unfolding it and adding a sheet on top) and that someone else may come along and need the other bed (even though she stated that all of the buses had already reached town and there would be no more travelers that night). Halima and I laughed and told Gert to take the bed and damn the girl.

Reluctantly, Gert finally took our advice. We then raced across town to ViaVia, which is the parent hotel of the hostel we were staying in, in order to talk to the main boss and head off the girl, whom we knew was going to try and blame everything on us and get us all kicked out. Gert being Dutch and the owner being Belgium came in handy as they discussed the situation in rapid-fire Dutch and the owner sided with us and called the girl, who then played everything off like she'd suggested Gert take the extra bed in the first place. The entire event was quite hilarious, although it might come across through these words as one of those had to be there moments.

The next morning a 6am, the three of us and 12 other weary travelers packed ourselves into the sardine can masquerading as a minivan and head back into Guatemala. It was cheaper, safer, and way more entertaining to stay in Antigua the night before my flight instead of in Guate City and so that's what I did.

Gert, Halima, and I wandered around the city a bit until we stumbled upon a quaint little hotel with a nice four person dorm room that the three of us claimed for ourselves, free computers, clean bathrooms (with water that worked 24 hrs a day), and free breakfast. We dropped out bags off, booked out buses out for the following day (me to the airport and Gert to Monterrico, Halima opting to stay in town) and headed out to explore.

Gert had previously been living in Antigua for a few weeks doing one of the home stay/language courses and so there were a few parts of the city that he took us to that had me wondering how much of the place I'd actually seen on my first go around there. The main thing that we saw that I loved was there was this really fancy and gorgeous hotel/restaurant/ruins/museums/gallery/a few other things complex. It seems that someone bought a section of the open air museum (read ruins of an old church) and then built a hotel around the ruins. They left many of the ruins in place and even added signs to point out what certain things were. The old chapel itself was still in use, as the stage still existed and chairs had been set up across from it, with a permanent tarp ceiling. The effect was magical and I could see a beautiful wedding being held there. The place also houses a few different museums, but they were all closed due to the late hour.

Closing Remarks

My last night came and went and soon I was on a minibus back to the airport to await a plane and head back to my normally scheduled life.

All in all my Guatemala trip was like many of the other trips I've taken; it was liberating, exciting, adventurous, filled with new friends, funny experiences, some upsets, some surprises, but mostly enjoyable. It wasn't my favorite place that I've ever been to, but neither was it my least favorite place either.

The thing I liked the least about the trip was the transportation. The rain and general poor condition of the roads makes it hard to get to many locations and many times transport only runs during limited hours. Added to this is the fact that there aren't any night buses, and most people tell you that the only way to really get anywhere is via tourist shuttles. This makes travel expensive and waste many of the days that you could better be spending actually seeing some of the sights. I wish that there had been a better way to get around and that I'd have figured out that in most areas there is viable local transport a little sooner than I had. This might have saved some of the hassle and alleviated some of the aggravations I felt during parts of the trip.

In the future, I might try to go back and see if it's easier to get to some of the ruins that litter the Peten area. Currently most of these are only accessible by off-roading tour groups or long hikes through the jungle. That though might in and of itself be something fun to do on another trek through the area.

The one thing that I liked the most and that will probably leave the most lasting impression was the helpfulness and sincerity of the Guatemalan people (except for the tour agents that were out to steal your money, but that's the same everywhere). It seemed that no matter where I went, there was always someone asking whether they could help me find something or if I needed help with anything. People on the street said "Good morning" and "hello" and actually meant it. If you attempted to speak Spanish (even if it was horrible), then everyone respected you more and attempted to puzzle out what you were butchering. All of this made the trip more special and more endearing.

Rio Dulce, Livingston, and Goodbye

Rio Dulce

Christie and I decided that we were done with the shuttle thing and took a local bus (Greyhound type) to Rio Dulce Town, the border town for the Rio Dulce (waterway into which Lake Izabel empties and to which the waters then flow into the Caribbean. Most people just use Rio Dulce town as a port to gain access to Livingston and consider the town not worth their time. It's true that the place is small and that the primary function is to serve as a marina, but Christie and I but rather enjoyed our two days there.

The town itself, contains one major street, that also serves as the main thoroughfair for automobile traffic to and from the area (kinda like someone else's home town that I known...cough...Jenni...cough). There a bridge that runs over the waterway and not much else. Christie and I became quite acquiented with this bridge, as we must have walked over it at least 20 times in the two days that we were there. It was good exercise and our hostel just happened to be on the wrong side of the bridge as food and transportation.

Our hostel, The Backpacker's Hostel, was an old boathouse situated directly on the water that was converted into a few private rooms and a tons of open space with bunk beds piled in to create dorms. I don't know why, but it leant itself a pleasant air and we really liked it.

The first day that we arrived, we decided that we wanted to go an see Castillo de San Felipe, a miniature medieval castle. The castle is just like a real castle that one would see in Europe, but it's as if someone highlighted it and then shrunk everything down proportionally. It's cute and hard to take seriously because of it's miniaturization.

The castle was built by the Spanish because they were tired pf the English coming through the channel and raiding the area. Twelve soilders were sent to staff the mini castle, but it didn't seem to do them much good. In the castle's 200 or so years of operation, it was taken by pirates at least twice and attacked a few more than that. There were three different times that the site had to be rebuilt.

To get to this marvel, Christie and I raced to a minibus and then walked through the downpour that started almost immeadiately upon our stepping out of the car. We were so content on not slippping on the wet cobblestones that we walk right by the guard station and they had to shout to get our attention so that we could pay the admission. You think the sight of two half-drown American tourist would be payment enough, but it wasn't to be.

The castle itself, was amazing. We wander through every passage that we could find and even down into the basement, where we were force to retreat due to the lack of illumination and the fact that it was half submerged under water. I recommend that if anyone comes this way, they check it out.

Livingston

Nine-thirty the following morning saw Christie, me, and two Brits we'd met the night before (we had walked them back to the hostel once the town lost power cause they were afraid to walk across the bridge by themselves) on a launcha to Livingston. The launcha took about three hours and passed by a bird santuary, hot springs where we actually stopped for 30 minutes(Christie and I opted to see the small caves that were in the area rather than swim in the hot water when it was already blazing hot outside), a lilypad cove with little local children canoing out to try and sell us handicrafts, and finally into port at Livingston.

Livingston is a unique city all to itself. It is only accessible by boat and is a gateway to Belize and Honduras. It is largely inhabited by the displaced Garifuna, or black Carib people, whose communities are strung out along the Caribbean coast between southern Belize and northern Nicaragua. The town itselfis very small and had a lazy, laid back feel too it. The only things to really do there are eat, relax, and catch a ride to another place.

We went to see the town, but mainly because I wanted to try their specialty, tapado, a seafood soup with a coconut broth. When we arrived though, we realized that the town knows the soup is their specialty and as a result charges an arm and a leg for it. We ended up passing on the opportunity (yes I am that cheap) and opting for some hermit crab (part of the snail family and taste like rubber, squid, and crab mixed).

Two hours later we reboarded our launcha and went back to Rio Dulce for some cooling off in the canal and our last night traveling together.

Goodbye for Now

The time for the Scholarly Professer and Christie (a crafty nickname has still not been found), as traveling companions came to an end, at least this time around. Christie left at 7 am to catch a minibus to the hotsprings waterfall (a novelty of the area) before she had to head back to Guatemala City for her flight home, while I caught a very crowded local bus to El Florido (the border town between Guatemala and Honduras).

Next up, Copan, Honduras and then back to Antigua for the end of the trip.

Flores and Tikal!!!

The Road to Flores and the Town

We had booked a shuttle from Coban to take us to Flores, the biggest traveler hub before you get to Tikal. It was in essence a minivan with extra seats throw in, but no extra room. We were all crammed in like sardines and it had me in hysterics for a bit cause there were these four twig-skinny teenagers all smooched in the backseat (which I think was really only meant for 2 or 3 people max) and they're all complaining that they're touching eachother. I was sitting next to a 10 year old that thought he was 400 pounds and attempted to take up the entire seat. The whole situation was made better by the fact that there were only so many windows and the temperature out side was in the low 100s, with very high humidity. Shuttles in other words are a way for the locals to charge you more for what you could get if you took public transportation. Public transportation actually is better in some instances.

Six painful hours later and we arrived in Flores. Flores is the capital of the Peten, which is the name of the department/area that takes up the top third of Guatemala. Peten is 40% Maya Biosphere Reserve and boasts the largest concentration of Mayan ruins. The sad thing, is it's really hard to get to 90% of the ruins without purchancing some completely overpriced tour, except for Tikal that is. Tikal is the main attraction an therefore there is easy public and private transportation to and from it.

Flores itself is a small island that is connected to Santa Elena by a 500 m bridge. The island had a nice European charm with small cobblestone streets that run in circles around the island. The city was the capital od the Itzxa Maya until 1697 when the Spanish finally foreced the town (them called Tayasal) under their control. The town was to be our home base for the next day and a half.

Tikal

We booked the earliest bus that we could up to Tikal in order to be able to spend the most amount of time there possible. So 4:45 am saw us outside the hostel watching the sun come up and waiting for the shuttle to arrive. It was a pleasent hour and a half ride and then we were at our destination.

Tikal is considered by many to be the most renowned of all Mayan ruins. The site is dominated by five giant temples, multiple steep-sided pyramids, and thousands of smaller outlying buildings, many of which are in varying stages of being reclaimed by the jungle. The site itself is part of the Parque Nacional Tikal (Tikal National Park), and is home to multiple forms of wildlife in addition to the ruins. Of note are Spider and Howler Monkeys, Toucans, Parakeets, Osillating Turkeys, and the always loved, malaria carrying mesquito. We saw all of these animals and more. The latter one chased us across most of the park, especially when we went on some of the more overgrown and shadier paths.

Most people that come to Tikal run straight for the central area, with the five temples. The Great Plaza, is the center of the city and is in the heart of the central area. It is surrounds by four massive structures, including Temples 1 and 2, which stand opposite eachother. The Great Plaza was the center of ceremonial and religious activities for onwards of a thousands years. From this area you can spread any direction and run into more runins.

There are a few of the Temples that you're allowed to climb to the top of and get the lay of the land. Stairs that are almost vertical and have to be climbed like the world's longest ladder are attached to help with this process on some of the larger pyramids. The view is definitely worth it and you'll all just have to check out my photos when I post them on Facebook, because I can't describe it well enough here to do it justice.

Christie, Mustasheio, and I wandered every inch of the park, except for Complex H which was skipped due to hunger and the heat, as we passed it on our way to lunch and a shade break. We hit up every path and capture photos of many of the ruins and of the wierd and beautiful jungle creatures (there were florescent orange catepillars). The park is nice because you can pretty much walk around unmolested by guides, guards, and other people. There's so much to see and not the hordes upon hordes of people that were thought we all be there and so you get a sense at times that you're the only one around. It's very nice.

There are also two small museums that are attached to the site that you can visit. One is the lithic museum, where they have placed many of stealae and altars with beautiful carvings and pictorial language. The other is the Tikal Museum, which contains mostly pottery and jewelry that was found in different ruins around the site. There is also one burial that is on permanent display. Both museums are small and half most of their information in Spanish, but it's worth the few minutes and 10 Q to see them.

On that is the small of my visit to Tikal. Next up is Rio Dulce and Livingston, the Carribbean Coast of Guatemala.

Semuc Champey and Lanquin

I think that I've found my happy place in Guatemala (I haven't seen Tikal yet so it still might get replaced, but as of now...) and that is the areas around Lanquin and Semuc Champey. This is some of the most beautiful land in the whole country. There is green everywhere in a thousand different varieties, Rio Lanquin (the river) runs through the center and creates a lovely way to cool off in the humid heat, there are caves everywhere, and hiking galore. It's really a very magical place to get all clichesque about it.

Christie and I, along with two dorm mates from Casa de la Luna, Rob and Anand, booked passage to this paradise and were picked up by local transport at the lovely time of 5:45 am (I think that the average time for me to get up here is about 5 am, so much for that whole myth about sleeping in when you go on vacation). Approximately two hours later we had traveled far into the green and were dropped out at a small hotel/slash restaurant. There we ran back into Michelle and Bex, who have come up for the day from Antigua. It's funny how you keep running into the same people over and over again when you travel, but also nice.

After some breakfast, our little quartet, along with the other 12 people that came from Antigua, were loaded into the back of a truck that had a metal frame attached through the center and around the edge for people to grip on. In essence, it turned the bed of the truck into a human cattle cart (this is the local form of transport on these unpaved back roads and I later saw one of these trucks with about 40 people crammed in and hanging off the sides where ever they would fit).

The cattle cart took us the last 10 km from Lanquin to Semuc Champey and passed by harvest fields for corn, coffee, chocolate, plantains, bananas, and papaya. These plants all shared the same space and seemed to by in a symbiotic relationship with each other.

Semuc Champey is a national park where the bulk of the Rio Cahabon cuts underground leaving a suspended limestone bridge, the top of which is graced with a series of stair stepping turquoise, azure, and green pools of inviting water. After a grueling hike to the lookout point atop the mountain, where a great view of the pools and raging river can clearly be seen, our tour hiked down to the pools for a much deserved swim. It was very refreshing and quite lovely.

All too soon we had to leave to head back to our hostel, El Portal, which had more of a summer camp feel than that of a hotel, with a central common area and small cabins for rooms spread out across a few acres of land. At the bottom of the hostel/resort was access to the river. Add to all this the hammocks and the splendor of the setting and it's a wonder people ever leave.

We didn't have too much time to explore of surroundings as it was soon time to head out again. This time for water tubing down the river. We drove a short distance and then got in the freezing water in our mini tubes for a lazy trip downstream. It was nice and definitely helped us cool off, but was over in literally five minutes...I think that the poster advertising a half hour trip is slightly overrated. I think that the make up the time by allowing you to jump off a bridge (after 30 ft high) if you're brave enough. I am not too proud to say that the scaredy cat in me said no way, but gleefully watched everyone else jump.

From the bridge jumping it was back to El Portal, lunch, and then away again to the Kan'ba Caves. This was probably the highlight of the day, even better than the pools of Semuc Champey. You are given a single white candle per person as you plunge into the total darkness of an underground cave system. The guide (you must go with one) leads you through the watery depths where there are times where you're swimming or treading water and keeping your sad little candle above water so that it doesn't extinguish. You have to clamber up the side of a small waterfall, across ladders whose rungs don't really exist, and through the murky depths to gain access to the end; a rock from which you can jump into a deep pool of water. The jump is about 10 feet and I forced myself and Christie to make it in order to prove that we aren't complete wusses. Definitely provided an adrenaline rush. The whole experience last about 2 to 2.5 hours and is amazing.

Thus ended a great and very full day.

Sunday morning we left El Portal and road the cattle cart back to Lanquin where we said goodbye to Michelle and Bex for the last time (they're headed to Mexico so we won't see them again on this trip) and the new friends that we'd made the previous trip. Everyone else was headed to destinations elsewhere, whist, Christie and I had decided to stay in Lanquin for a day.

We took up residence at El Retiro, another summer camp-like hostel (but nicer than El Portal), and set out to see the town and track down some breakfast. We found a cute restaurant called Shalom (peace in Hebrew) and ordered pancakes with fruit, which turned out to be fruit crepes. They were fantastic, especially after a week straight of platos tipicos (eggs, beans, cheese, and tortillas). I also tied a milk and pineapple licado and it was muy delish.

A short tour of the town (it was about four blocks long) and it was back to the hostel for some down time of reading, sunbathing, and enjoying the sun.

At 2 pm we headed out with a Dutch couple for more river tubing. This time on the Rio Lanquin. This tour turned out to be definitely worth the price and even a little exciting on my part. We got a good 30 - 45 minutes in the river, but Just (pronounced Yost), the male portion of the Dutch couple, told me some misinformation that lead to a little bit of chaos. There's a rope strung across the river where our hostel is located and the guy said that you had to grab this rope at the end of the trip and then pull yourself out of the water.

So being the first to reach it, that's exactly what I attempted to do; attempt being the operative word. This rope just happens to be at a portion of the river where the current is incredibly strong and all that holding on did was cause me to lose my inner tube and eventually my grip on the rope, my pants almost followed suit too. The entire time the guide is yelling "No, no, let go. This is not the end of the trip." So now I was tubeless and clinging to the side of my guide's tube as we attempted not to capsize us both and to track down my errant tube before it was lost for good. I eventually caught up to it about 5 minutes later, but not before amusing everyone in the party and almost drowning myself a few times.

I also managed to make a fool of myself again at the exit point for the trip by drifting about 20 meters more upstream then where we were supposed to get out, mainly because there was a guide helper waving me over. I jumped off the inner tube and promptly fell underwater. I was expecting it to be shore, but it was actually a really deep drop off about two inches from shore. The guide's helper laughed at me, took the inner tube, and left me to climb aboard terra firma and then through the weeds to the others.

After my (our) great river adventure, we retired back to the hostel, grabbed some books and went back down to the river for some more swimming, a little reading, and the hopes of acquiring some color (other than red).

The last adventure for this region of the country was a 5 pm (turn out to be closer to 6 pm cause there was an influx of new arrivals at 5 and some of them wanted to join) trip through the Grutas de Lanquin (Grottos of Lanquin). These are a series of caves that house bats galore. There is a nice, well lit trail of cut stone stairs and slippery walkways through the place and you can see the bats fly around (this was helped greatly by our guide shouting and scaring them). There's a portion at the end where there are no lights, but those of headlamps and you're hoisting yourself up and through some of the rocks outcrops. The result is some happy, muddy people. At the end of the tour, everyone gathered at the front of the caves and watched the bats fly out. Our guide caught one and held it so that we could all take pictures. They're really cool creatures.

And thus ends a very tiring, yet relaxing and enjoyable weekend.

Coban

The Road to Coban

Christie and I paid an exorbitant fee to leave Pana at 6 am instead of the normal 10 am in order to get to Coban in time to actually see something before the local inhabitants close up shop and disappear into their homes for the evening.

So bright-eyed (or maybe it was glassy-eyed) and not so awake, we wandered to the main street where we were picked up by the shuttle driver only a few minutes late. We were then taken to Antigua (seems most everything needs to come back through one of the major cities...you can´t just travel from one place to another directly) to grab our next shuttle that was supposed to be waiting for us. By standard Guatemalan rule, the shuttle was not there, but this in fact worked out as it gave us an opportunity to grab a chai (they have great chai at Cafe Condesa) and a little something to eat.

From Antigua we got a nice shuttle all to ourselves to Guatemala City, where the driver informed us that they had overbooked and therefore would not be traveling by shuttle to Coban, but in fact would be taking the local equivalent of Greyhound. Seeing as this is what we were trying to find in the first place, it seems that our wish was granted, we just paid four times the amount to take it.

The Guatemalan version of Greyhound is called Monja Blanca, which means White Nun and apparently only runs from Guate City to Coban and back again, or out of the country. Too bad, guess we´re stuck mostly taking the overpriced tourists shuttles.

The fortuitous thing about the bus is that at the rest stop I was making note out loud of the fact that there didn´t seem to be any sort of real line for the restroom and it was more of a free for all, when the girl next to me started laughing. Turns out her name is Natalie and she´s a Guatemalan-American that lives in Ventura. How´s that for a small world?

Natalie decided to take pity on us after hearing our story and knowing that we had no idea where we were going to get off the bus and where that would be in relation to a hostel and thus told us that we would get off with her and then her dad would drive us to a hostel. Very nice indeed.

We arrived in the central of Coban near the plaza and true to Natalie's word, her dad was waiting to pick her up and didn't mind in the less taking two strangers along for the ride. Natalie's father turned out to be very nice and displayed that genuine Guatemalan hospitality and helpfulness that seems to run rampant through all of the people except those that run the tourists agencies and guides, and promptly invited us back to his parents home for lunch and then stated that he didn't have anything to do that day and him and his daughter would gladly walk around the city with us till be found a decent hostel.

We ended up at Casa de Luna, which was pretty much our original destination anyways through the flip of a coin (it was that or a cheaper hotel with a private room, but no other people staying there). The hostel was cute, with hammocks and one computer containing free internet, and the traditional built-in tour agency. Through their agent, we booked a coffee tour for the following day and transport and a two day trip to Lanquin and Semuc Champey for the weekend (but that's a different entry).

Seeing as the day was mostly gone, we had but time for one little excursion. We ventured to El Calvario, a giant church on a hill in the middle of town. The church itself isn't that interesting, but the Mayan shrines that line the stairway to the top and the graveyard with its half swallowed graves made the journey worth it. The view wasn't too bad either.

Coffee, Mayan Museums, and Nature Preserves

I forced Christie to agree to go on a tour of a local coffee co-op not because I really like coffee and not because I think it's kind of interesting to learn the history of coffee, but because the coffee tour also included a zip line and that I totally wanted to do. The tour began with a ride on the local microbus (think filled minivan with a little more room) to a small out of the way village that borders the western edge of Coban. The cooperative itself is called, Cooperativa Agricola Intergral Chicoj and includes a PeaceCorps volunteer from Arkansas named Winfrey as a member. Our tour was lead by a local girl that spoke clearly and concisely and told us about the wonders of coffee.

The coffee at Chicoj was originally brought be the Germans, who started the farm before leaving during World War II when they were quite popular anymore. The coffee is made in multiple stages starting from seeds in the grounds that bud into little green stalks that they call little soldiers. From there, the little soldiers are put into small pots until they're bigger and can be planted in the ground to form trees. There are multiple types of coffee trees that are planted at the co-op and then the fruits from the seeds are mixed together, cleaned, dried, roasted, and eventually made into coffee. There's a little more to it, but it would bore most of you to go into all the details.

The most exciting part was that in the middle of the tour, there is a canopy that you have to zip line across. There are actually four different mini zips, but it was fun nevertheless. I think that Christie was even enjoying it a bit be the last zip (she's afraid of heights and wasn't too keen on the whole idea to begin with).

At the end of the tour you have to option to try the coffee, but since I'm not a huge fan of it, I convinced them to let us try a local drink called Pinol, that is basically corn with some chocolate and sugar mixed in. Taste like a really weak version of Cream of Wheat and not altogether to appetizing.

From the coffee farm, Christie and I said goodbye and wandered across town to the Museo El Principe Maya, or the Maya Museum. The place was small, contained no air whatsoever, and was run by a crazy anti-social woman with no real manners, but super hearing when it came to the sound of a camera case's Velcro unclipping (no pictures allow, but it didn't stop me from trying), and her attention-craving deprived pug.

Small though it was, there were some very nice artifacts and some decent English translations of the information signs, just not as many or as informative as we would have liked. Of particular note, there were some very nice figurines that depicted the Mayan people (they had a petulance for creating high foreheads and crossed eyes as signs of wealth and privilege), some beautiful jade and shell jewelry, and some interesting dental additions (seems that modern society was not the first to add embellishments to their teeth, the Mayans added jade and other stones like small people add diamonds today).

The last adventure for the day was to the Parque National Las Victorias, a nice nature park with trails, bbq areas, and campgrounds. We arrived there later in the day and were told not to wander to far as it wasn't safe. So we wandered down to the lake where there was a caiman floating lazily on a submerged walkway that went out to a small kiosk in the middle of the water. I wanted to walk on it, but it seemed that this was not to be. We wandered some more, taking in the nature and capturing it in grainy digital to shows those back at home.

Thus ends our adventures in Coban.

Christie Arrives, Pacaya, Lake Atitlan

Antigua Some More and the Arrival of Christie

My last real day in Antigua was spent in the morning going to breakfast with Bex, Michelle, and Alexi (a Spanish-American-French guy that tehy found the night before). We went to Cafe Condesa, which is a very nice and Americanize resturant, with a bookstore and handmade paper shop attached to it. Alexi invited all of us and then regaled us with stores of murder, ghosts, and superstitions that surrounded the locale. The resturant, it is said, used to be a mansion and as all mansions have, it had servants. The butler, had an affair with the Countess and then the Countess killed him when she was going to be found out by her husband. This sorid affair and corredsponding murder were all conjecture until earthquakes knocked down part of the wall in a back room and low and behold, our missing bulter was found. It is said that the butler then haunted the mansion until and exercism was preformed. The tourism industry states that the ghost is no more, but Alexi was adamit that the ghost still wanders and that is why the locals avoid the backroom, especially at night.

This story was so facinating that I had to be the nnerdy tourist that I am and enter the haunted lair and then shut all the windows and call out. Nothing happened (sigh), but I got a few neat photos.

After breakfast, we said goodbye to Alexi, and then shortly thereafter I siad goodbye to Michelle and Bex. They were headed to Lake Atitlan and I told wait for Chrisite´s arrival.

Christie showed around noon at the appointed coffee shop...only and hour later than expected, but for Guatemalan time, that´s pretty good. We dropped her bags at the hostel (Michelle, Bex, and I had moved to the quiter and slightly safer for our luggage Hostel de Viajero the previous night) and proceeded to explore the town. As Christie is as adventurous as me, we wandered where few tourist dare to tread and ended up in the locals food and everyday products market. This was fine except for the fact that once we were in it, we couldn´t figure out how to get out. Some 20 minutes later were emerged to the cloudy skies and realized that the circulous wandering had only landed us a block further away than we had started.

While waiting for Chrisite, I had been reading my Rough Guide and located a few things that I wanted to see in town and due to their early rolling up of the streets, we only managed one thing. But that´s okay because it was awesome. We wandered over to Las Capuchinas, the ruins of the convent of the Capuchin nuns. The ruins are some of the best preserved in the city and used to house an order of nuns that were not allowed any contact with the outside world. Food was passed to them through a turntable and they could only talk to people through a grille. Sounds like a dismal existence. The sad thing is that some of the nuns that lived here, were not there by choice. Many families would give their girls to convents and such if they couldn´t marry them off or couldn´t afford to feed them. The coolest thing at the ruins was the remains of their cells, and cells they were. Each was about 5ft by 10ft, with three shelves built into the wall and a hole that acted as a toilet. There were 18 of these all forming a circle at the top of a tower. Maybe it wasn´t as creepy then as it is in ruin form now.

The convent was damaged in the 1751 earthquake and then again in the 1773 quake, as which time the nuns were relocated and the building abandoned. In 1813 the ruins were sold and then given to National Council for the Protection of La Antigua Guatemala in 1971 and made into the tourist attraction that it is.

One other small thing about the ruins. There was a small gallery of religious paintings and sculptures in one of the other rooms of the convent where the guards prohibited photos, but the pictures were so over the top and there were all of these ones with baby Jesus holding a flaming heart that looked like a cupcake on fire that I had to sneak a picture of Mustacheio under one. So ask to see it sometime.

Volcano Pacaya

Christie and I booked passage to see the Pacaya Volcano. Pacaya first erupted approximately 23,000 years ago and has erupted at least 23 times since the Spanish conquest of Guatemala. Pacaya rises to an elevation of 2,552 metres (8,373 ft). After being dormant for a century, it erupted violently in 1965 and has been erupting continuously since then, with the last activity reported has been the eruption that peaked on May 27, 2010, causing ash to rain down in Guatemala City, Antigua and Escuintla.

The sad thing about the fact that the volcano erupted so recently is that there isn´t currently any flowing lava to be seen. Tourists loved to climb the volcano because you could take a picture with red flows behind you. It was still pretty cool though. We hiked it at 7 in the morning and there was heavy mist that gave the trip an air of searching for Shell Mountain through the swamp of sadness. Everything had a misty and mysterious feel to it. Add to that the black of the actual ash and molten rock and it was a pretty niffy experience.

From Volcano Pacaya, it was back to Antigua to wait for the shuttle to Lake Atitlan. The transportation situation in this country is interesting. There seems to only be chicken buses and shuttles. I´m sure that there are actual bus buses somewhere, but I think that they only travel between the countries and not just between the different cities of a particular country.

The shuttle was an hour late and we got to watch the rain pour down and talk to the local kid handing out flyers and telling me how he wanted to use my water bottle as a soccer ball and have it fly up and crash down on my head and explode. He was a sweet kid.

Lake Atitlan

The Lake is one of the most traveled to destinations in the Western Highlands of Guatemala and contains the largest groups of indigenous peoples, with the lake being lined with 13 diverse yet traditional Maya villages. In some of them they don´t even speak Spanish, but their own native tongue, that are becoming extinct.

We arrived in Panajachel, which is probably the most cosmopolitian of all the villages as it is the main traffic hub and where most of the tourists shuttles drop their fares off.

Panajachel offered mainly two attractions, shopping and hanging out. There is a main street, Calle Santander, that sells the tradition things that you can find almost everywhere in the country and over-priced tourists resturants. There is also the beach, but I wouldn´t recommend swimming here, there are a lot of lanchas (small boats that act as taxis around the Lake) and the water is pretty dirty from all the deisel fuel. This town is more of a lanching pad to the other villages.

On the morning of the 4th, Christie and I set out for exploration of the villages that surround the Lake. We grabbed a lancha to Santiago Atitlan. It´s almost directly across the Lake from Pana and is one of the last bastions of traditional life here. It serves as the main center for the Tzútujil-speaking Maya people and many of them still wear traditional dress (for the men it seems to be comprised of long shorts of white with dark colored stripes and for the women it consists of wrap around skirts, huipiles, and bright colored shirts with flower and bird motifs; where the skirt and the shirt never correspond to eachother).

We wandered from the boat dock to the main plaza area and into the Catholic Church at the top of the hill. This church is dedicated to Father Stanley Rother, an American priest who was labeled a Communist by President Garcia for his defending of his parishioners and assassinated by a paramilitary death squad in 1981.

The other main attraction in Santiago is Maximon, the "evil" saint, locally known as Rilej Mam. This is a saint from Folk Catholism and the saint is moved around from home to home every May. You ask a local child on the street and they will take you to where he is currently residing. The fee is 2 quetzales to see him and pray. Just because, we had to go, and because I really wanted to take a tuk tuk (motorized carriage), we paid 10Q to get there.

We visited Maximon and wished for safe travels and then it was on to San Pedro, the party village. We didn´t especially want to go to San Pedro, but had to go through there to get to Jaibalito, which we did want to see.

San Pedro La Luguna is considered the party destination and contains tons of hostels, bars, and clubs. I think the main attraction point is that it´s open past 7 pm in many places.

We were dropped off at the docks on one side of town and had to hike up and over the hill that comprised the village to get to the other dock that we wanted. That was our tour of the town and we didn´t fell that we were missing out on much.

Jaibalito is a small village and completely different than Pana or San Pedro. There are tons of shops nor any tourist markets. It´s isolated and remains resolutely Kaqchikel (very little Spanish is spoken here). We were dropped at the docks with a British couple that were staying at one of the hotels that are nestled among the trees here and built up the hill so that you get some exercise climbing from the docks to the reception room to your actual room.

The dock where we were left off was about an 8 minute walk from the Brit couples hotel and took you through town. It was neat cause we arrived at the same time as a shipment of food and almost got run over by all the locals as they raced to the waterfront to help carry the goods back to town. There was also what appeared to be a community project going on with the building of a bridge or road using a gabian method (rocks inside metal). All these kids were carrying rocks in bags secured to their heads. Interesting way to employ child labor, but they were laughing and didn´t seem to mind it.

The main reason that we can to Jaibalito is that there is a nice walking path through the greenery to Santa Cruz. The trail start from the top of the hotel Casa del Mundo and winds along the mountain to Santa Cruz La Luguna. It takes about 45 minutes to an hour and was quite beautiful. There were stunning views, catipillars and a lost little crab way high up from the water.

Santa Cruz is another one of the island villages without a lot of tourism. There is a hostel right on the water that is run by an English-American couple. The one bought the place from the old owner and then met the other when they were backpacking and married them. The place is like a commune with a work for room and board mentality. Or you can just pay and enjoy. It´s very quaint and serves a great avocado and pineapple shake. We didn´t actually explore the town itself because there isn´t much of note there and I didn´t feel like hiking the hill to get there.

Well, I think this entry is long enough and I´m about out of time. So it´s off to Coban tomorrow, but that´s for the next entry.

Antigua, Chicken Buses, and Chichicastenango

Antigua

I originally had planned on staying in Guatemala City to wait for Christie to arrive, but after finding out that she was coming in the evening of my fourth day in the Country and after travelling around the city with Michelle and Bex, I decided that I would take Bex and Michelle up on their offer to head to Antigua with them and wait for Christie there.

We booked a shuttle through our hostel which turned out to be Grandma's mini van (literally) and it was running on Guatemalan time (30-60 minutes late). The trip was supposed to take approximately 45-60 minutes, but leaving on a Saturday at noon-time meant that it took 3 hours. Got to see a bunch of the city on the way out though because there are so many one ways and there is only one real highway (CA-1) in the whole of Central America that you have to transverse many of the zones to get out.

We were dropped off at the Gato Negro Hostel (Black Cat), which is considered one of the best and one of the worst hostels at the same time. It's got a reputation as a party hostel because so many people stay there and it's mostly dorms. This leads to many people up at all hours of the day and night and with thin walls and doors that don't lock, it can be a bit much. I loved the decor though...there were a bunch of the Spanish/central American colors that are popular in every country but the US it seems and the dorm that we were staying in was designed by someone into mid-15th century dungeons. The walls were dark blue and the bed spreads dark red. Add to that, cramped quarters and one small bare light bulb that illuminates a fraction of the room (we seriously needed a flashlight at certain times when trying to find wall outlets (which didn't turn out to exist in the rooms) or things from our packs). But the hostel has a bar with discounts for those that stay there, a movie room, free WiFi, and the best breakfast in the city (I didn't get to sample this though).

Antigua is the ex-capital of Guatemala. It was founded at the beginning of the 16th century and inspired by the Italian renaissance, therefore having a very colonial and European look and feel to it. It was made the capital city in 1541, but largely destroyed by an earthquake in 1773, thus causing the relocation of the capital to Guatemala City. Many of the buildings and old churches that were destroyed by the quake of 1773 remain in their destroyed state as a type of open air museum. It's neat to walk around the city and once every few street corners there is the front façade of a church or other building and if you look through the entrance you'll see a courtyard with large concrete bricks on the ground being slowly swallowed by the weeds.

Antigua is currently home to experts, foreigners that don't want to leave, tourists from everywhere, language students attempting to learn Spanish, and guatemaltecos (Guatemalans from Guatemala City that migrate over and stay). It's definitely very touristy, but has a certain charm to it. There are cafes enough to have you in a different one every day for months, a huge supply of restaurants to try and hostels to jump from, souvenir shops galore, internet, banks, and tour companies to everywhere. The city is surrounded by three different volcanoes and is the travel hub for the rest of the country, as well as the surrounding countries. All of this adds up to a very good reason to have left Guate City two days earlier than originally planned.

We dropped our gear at Black Cat and set out for food. As seems to be our luck, we couldn't read the map to save our lives and couldn't find the one restaurant that we were trying to locate from the suggestions in the Lonely Planet, but we stumbled by luck or accident another one of the places in the book: Rainbow Reading Room. This is one of about a hundred different cute cafes that are spread out around the city. The cafe has a very bohemian flare to it with tables set into corners and cushioned seats. There is also a used bookstore attached to it and if you buy a book, they'll give you a free tea or coffee to have while you chill out and read. The place also hosts bands in the evenings and is one of the few spots open after 9 pm. It seems that unlike other Latin American countries, Guatemala rolls up the carpets and dampens down the doors at about 6-7 pm. It's really weird.

Our first day in town, Michelle, Bex, and I just wandered around a bit, looked at the different shops, and sampled the local cuisine. There were these Mayan women in one of the plazas that were making pupusa's, a type of corn tortilla that has either cheese or meat in side and is cooked on a hot fry pan. Once it's hot and toasty, guacamole, a pickled onion mix, and salsa is added. It's really good and cheap.

While eating our pupusa's were met another adventurous couple of travellers, Scott and Sara, Australians that had been living in Canada and working at a ski resort for a year before travelling for the last two months. We got to taking and decided that they were pretty cool. It also turned out that they were headed to Chichicastenango the next morning, which is where I was headed.

Chicken Buses and Chichicastenango

I decided that I wanted to try a chicken bus up to Chichicastenango (which is known primarily for its Thursday and Sunday markets and the local Maya dress). Chicken buses are old school buses that America has decided aren't safe or suitable for American children to ride in anymore and therefore are perfectly suitable for the inhabitants of third-world and developing nations. These buses, once in country, are painted gaudy colors, adorned with religious phrases, and then used to ferry the lower class citizens all around the country. They're inexpensive, pack you in like sardines, and the drivers have no regard for safety, speed limits, or human life. I couldn't wait to try one out so I headed out of my hostel at the wonderful time of 6:30 am in order to catch the 7 am bus. On the way I was reminded of home as I passed by an area cordoned off by the cops and surrounded by gawkers trying to glimpse the unfortunate that had passed away during the night (the glimpse I got showed a local transient and not a tourist so don't fear, it's perfectly safe here).

After walking around the bus area a bit, a local asked where I was headed and pointed me in the correctly direction for the bus that I wanted and then shouted at it to stop when it was pulling out of the station 20 minutes earlier (always nice to know that Guatemala time doesn't necessarily mean running late, it can mean running early). Scott and Sara were already on the bus and told me they were glad I could make it when I hurried on.

The first half-hour of the ride was nice and I wasn't sure what all the fuss was about. Since we were in the first station when it pulled out, there were only about 7 people on the bus and tons of space. As time wore on, this soon changed. More people filed on after hailing the bus (as you would a taxi or when trying to hitch-hike...there are bus stops, but the bus were stop wherever people want it to) and soon there were up to 5 people on a seat meant for two (usually three adults and two children). An hour into the journey, the conductor's assistant tells us to get off and drives away. We're in the middle of a busy thoroughfare and it doesn't appear that there is a market anywhere around. We wander a block and ask whether we're in the right place and are told to hold on a bus will come. We were actually in Chimaltenango, which is a hub for Chicken buses as they all come through here. Apparently there is no direct chicken bus to Chichi and you have to catch another one. Our helpful locals told us where to wait and willing flagged the needed bus down when it arrived, but refused to sell up some of the tamales that they were cooking and selling to others on the street. A weird kind of kindness.

Eventually the other bus arrived and we were loaded on with all due haste. The chicken buses don't really actually completely stop. They kind of slow down to a mile and hour and kick you on or off as fast as possible. There's a helper to the conductor that’s job is to grab people and push them on, or push others off, and then collect money for fare. The thing is that the conductor won't wait for them either so there are a lot of times where they're running to get back on as the bus takes off down the road or they grab on the back of the bus and then walk across the roof and climb in through a window.

This new bus was completely packed to the gills. We were stuffed in the stairwell at the front and the conductor's assistant is yelling for us to head further back, and it's like "where?". We ended up squished in the aisle, being held in place by core muscles, overhead rails, and the ten bodies pressed in close. This is definitely not the mode of transportation to take if you're claustrophobic or don't like being touched. It's a good work out too as you need to use your core muscles and your arms to keep you from crashing into your neighbors or the sleeping family in front of you (how they could sleep is a mystery to me). The driver of the second bus gets the award for craziest driver I've ever had. The road to Chichi twist and turns and there have been landslides all across it where they've just diverted the traffic to the other side of the road. The driver drove around these curves so fast that even he had one hand braced on the window so he didn't fly out of his seat at each 30 kph turn were took at close to 70 kph. Add to this the driver's inherent need to pass everyone, including other chicken buses, and it was a little like living those car racing video games that were so popular when I was a kid.

Two hours of speedster later and we arrived in one piece in Chichi at the start of the market. This is considered one of the largest and most colorful markets in the country, thus being a great tourist trap. The market reminded me of the schuks of the Middle East, with its numerous stalls all selling similar merchandise, the children trying to sell you the same in the streets, and the hordes of people.

It was fun to explore and Scott and Sara and I found our way into the center area (literally in the center, you had to spot the narrow pathways between the stall the form the walls) where the local comedores (food stall/restaurants) where. These restaurants were little more than a few tables and chairs, five local women, a boiling pot, and a fry pan. You pretty much pointed at what someone was eating and said that you wanted one of those. We got a tamale and chicken soup with an entire chicken leg in it. Very good and very cheap.

After wandering a bit and buying some gifts for people back home, I said goodbye to Scott and Sara (who where headed to Lake Atitlan) and went to find my chicken bus back home. The ride home was slightly less exciting then the ride up. I got a quarter of a seat to myself and the driver was slightly slower, but that could have been due to the fact that the radiator was overheating and the assistant kept having to jump out and grab water from streams to dump on it.

I made it back to Antigua safe and sound and waited around for Michelle and Bex to find out how their day had gone. They had gone to Volcano Pacaya, which I was waiting for Christie to check out.

Since this entry has gotten way longer than I intended and I already know that most of you won't read it all, I will end here and save the last day in Antigua for another entry.