Latin American Johnslaught - #5, Prior to learning Spanish, Guatamala (Flores, Lanquin, Antigua and Lake Atitlan) 16/05/2011

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'Nothing bad will ever happen to me.'
Popular saying/mantra. SSUIP (circa 2010), originated by Matt Jones (Finance Employee of the Year 2010/11).

I was blessed with an easy journey from Belize to Guatemala, the only hiccup being that I left my bag on the boat from Caye Caulker to Belize City. Luckily I remembered it in time and was able to retrieve it. A worrying pattern forming, no? I enjoyed the coach trip to Flores aside from the border crossing which was long and not designed to make the traveller feel either safe or welcome. As soon as we pulled away from the border, the landscape changed dramatically and thus Guatemala began weaving its spell. It was raining and a fine mist covered the fields and surrounding hills. The land was lush, green and craggy and the overall effect was eerie and beautiful and, furthermore, exactly what I needed after my mediocre experience of Caye Caulker (which, I should hasten to add, should not be judged by me alone. A friend of mine has this to say about the humdrum isle: 'in absolutely no hurry to be leaving for anywhere else. This may be the best place I've ever been'. Still don't go there though - it's proper naff).

My destination from Belize City was Flores, a small island in a big lake, joined to the mainland by a bridge. The only reason people seem to go there is because it is a good base to visit the nearby Mayan ruins of Tekal. This, certainly, was my intention. The tours start early - they pick you up at 4.30am in order that you can beat the tourists and the afternoon heat of which there is plenty. I woke up at 4am and then fell straight back to sleep, alas. Booking in another tour would mean that I would have to stay another night in admittedly boring Flores so I decided to give it a miss and head down to Lanquin.

Lanquin (Lan-KEEN) is a tiny village in the hills almost directly South of Flores. The journey was a gruelling seven hour ride in a cramped people carrier but the further we got, the higher we got and thus the temperature dropped to acceptable levels. The views of the hills as we approached Lanquin are amongst the most stunning I've seen.

My first day at El Retiro was spent lazing about, enjoying the ambiance and reading. Then, at 2pm, I went tubing down Lanquin river. Tubing is where one rides the inner tube of a tire down a river as the current pulls one along. It was both relaxing and fun and its always nice to see a river from water level. In the evening, I went on a tour of the nearby Lanquin caves which was pretty interesting. The best part by far was the end of the tour when the resident bats get peckish and stream out of the cave, flitting past in their hundreds. We all tried to take pictures but it was pretty futile; they moved so quickly. Plus I was worried about the flash hurting their eyes. Bruno has only very unkind things to say about bats so he stayed at El Retiro 'meditating' (read 'sulking'😉.

The next day me and a friend I'd made called Misha (I guess that's how you spell it), an American chap from Oregon, jumped on a truck to Semuc Champey, a natural wonder consisting of several turquoise watered interlinked pools, and underground river and cave system. 'Nothing bad will ever happen to me', a phrase I found myself repeating a lot that day. For a start, the method of transport most of the locals here favour is a pick up van. Passengers stand up on the back and cling to a metal frame as the van then hurtles along the winding hill top roads. It is a truly exhilarating way to get around and the surrounding countryside looked incredible. Unfortunately, a drunk chap decided to speak to me. I am unsure as to why this keeps happening but sure enough, there he was. 'No habla Espaniol' I quipped, hoping to dissuade him from pursuing any line of conversation whatsoever. Unperturbed, he plowed on, yammering away at me as I smiled and shrugged and hoped he'd be a fool to himself and fall off.

Semuc Champey was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. The pictures are all very nice but the lens on my camera is too small to convey the enormity if the place. Whilst swimming in crystal clear pools, we could look up and a sheer cliff, covered in vegetation loomed over us to the point where I felt vertiginous just beholding it. After splashing around and chatting to fellow travellers for a bit, we opted to climb up to the Mirador (lookout point). 'Nothing bad will ever happen to me' I advised myself, shakily, as I clambered up rocky steps, often with nothing but a yawning drop on one side with only a few trees to worry a very long fall. Up we went, up and up and down a bit and then really very up. The view at the top took my breath away because I was knackered from the climb and it was extremely high up and I had to stand on a wooden platform, jutting out from the cliff, in order to look out. As Douglas Adams once wrote of Fjordland, New Zealand, "One's first impulse, standing on a cliff top surveying it all, is simply to burst into spontaneous applause." Again, though I tried to take pictures, I fear they appear somewhat boring compared to the real thing.

That evening, I had a charming time enjoying the company of two chaps from Michagen. They knew Detroit well and, to my envy, had attended the Detroit Electronic Music Festival which I've wanted to go to for yonks. One day I intend to do so, dragging Christian along with me. Anyway, I found myself so encumbered with liquor, I could barely walk which is a first for this trip. That being said, I think this was mainly due to the fact that I was wearing dodgy flip flops which kept breaking rather than the drink but still.

The following day I sat around reading all day, mentally and physically preparing myself for the journey to Antigua.

'Nothing bad will ever happen to me', advised Matt, confidently and, as we drove in to the heart of Guatemala City in order to drop off a selfish trio of twats on our way to Antigua, I found that his words were falling flat like a toff acting street. The stories about Guatemala City are as numerous as they are grim. Guatemala City has car jackings galore. Guatemala City features temporary police cordons at the end of streets in the evenings so that residents can walk their dogs without being blown away. Guatemala City spells bad juju for the uninitiated. Indeed, it was my vow to never go to Guatemala City as it's charms to the unwitting tourist rate somewhere close to post-crack binge Vanessa Feltz in the dead of winter. We stopped for twenty minutes whilst the evil three grabbed their bags and sauntered off to get a bus to El Salvador. We arrived in Antigua an hour and half later after a total of nine hours.

Safely ensconced in my hostel (in one of those rare spasms of creativity which have the potential to give rise to whole new artistic epocs, the owners named the establishment 'El Hostal'😉, I spoke to a Californian who looked a bit like Ron Pearlman. Ron advised me to head across the road to Cafe No Se for a beer. I did just that, taking my book with me in case it No Se was whack for chatting. Having ordered a two for one beer, I read by candle light because it was the only light to read by. Then probably the most beautiful girl I had ever seen sauntered in and positioned herself behind the bar. Josephine is Swedish. Josephine serves beer and Mezcal with a shy, eye melting smile. Josephine could be a model or a queen. 'Josephine' is an entirely inappropriate name. After embarrassing myself at the hands of Josephine for a while (I had quickly resorted to my Horribly Awkward Cretin state - one I only reserve for the very best), I made friends with some ex-pats who were comfortingly mediocre-looking which was a blessing. They were exulting in the charms of Antigua and, whilst it was treating me well so far, I failed to see the lasting appeal (four years? Really?).

Two days following - a month in to my trip - I climbed a volcano (almost, that is. We weren't allowed to the very top because it had erupted somewhat selfishly last May. This also meant there were no lava flows - boo!). It was hot work considering I hadn't had breakfast. The views were good but the top was all clouded over and a bit Welsh.

Another night at No Se ensued and what I promised myself to be my last night partying for a while. I want to be focused for my Spanish classes, at least at the beginning and I need to take a tighter reign on my budget.

The next day, I got the shuttle to Lake Atitlan. The lake was formed by a volcanic vortex which basically means it erupted and collapsed in on itself in a big way. Other, more successful, volcanoes surround the lake and the views - were it not for the cloud - are stunning. Lake Atitlan proffers some interesting diving. For a start, you dive at high altitude which makes a difference to the pressure. Secondly there's all sorts of weirdness down there such as lava flows and petrified forests. Whilst this is all very well, but an algae bloom has rendered the water with 0% visibility and it will take a while to clear. A real shame as I don't know whether I will be coming back here after the Spanish course.

I stayed in the small village of Santa Cruz in a hostel called Las Iguana Peridas or something which means The Lost Iguana. It is the only PADI affiliated place on the lake so I would recommend it on that basis alone (provided you email ahead to ensure there's no flippin algae blooming away and ruining everything). The dorms are clean and only 35Q a night (less than 3 quid). However, they get you on the dinner which you pretty much have to order every night because of the limited options available in the village. The only dinner on offer is a set three course meal, veggie option available. This ramps the cost up to somewhere in the region of 8 quid before you've even bought breakfast and drinks etc. The billing is all done via tab so make sure you have enough cash (payment via paypal is available but obviously paypal is crap). Beware travellers! Guatemala is not the cheap haven people would have you believe. Iguana itself is well run but moodily so. I spent a good few conversations trying to find out and subsequently order a shuttle to Xela and I got pretty harshly shot down when I didn't opt for the chicken bus option (chicken buses are like jeepneys... old school buses elaborately painted). The cost of a chicken bus all the way there is just $3 where as a shuttle is $20. However, Xela is a big place and I don't know enough Spanish. The shuttle will drop me at the Spanish school I'm enrolled on. Therefore, I don't think I'm being tooo precious about my journeying options. There'll be plenty of time for chicken buses once I'm slightly more up on the lingo. Plus it's my choice anyway. So yeah, a bitter bunch.

Onwards and upwards. Xela. Spanish. Six weeks. And then Honduras and a dive master certification. My birthday is looming and I intend on spending it 30m underwater. Preferably surrounded by sharks.

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Photos

The lake, Flores
The view from my hotel balcony

My room, Flores, where I watched lots of rubbish films
...not least, 'It's a Boy Girl Thing' which is superb.

The ferry...
... betwixt Flores and Lanquin. Note the fact that it seems to be powered by one outboard motor

The most picturesque petrol station ever
On the road between Flores and Lanquin

Map of the bat caves
Sadly, we didn't see any of the four massive grinning bats on our tour