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Published: January 23rd 2006
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The journey to Rio Dulce was quite entertaining. The kamikazi driver had a 'no fear' approach to driving, overtaking on tight bends and racing along bumpy mountain roads. The pit stop halfway for a toilet break allowed Karen to see the locals in all their glory. Rather naively looking for the 'ladies', she walked into the communal bathrooms to find an aging cowboy, pants round ankles. With toilet doors apparently being a luxury, he maintained the friendly Guatemalan approach giving a warm 'Hola' and a cheeky smile!
Upon getting off the bus in Rio Dulce we were besieged by touts offering river trips and places to stay. We decided on one that was a short boat ride into the mangrove swamps at the side of the river. In a stroke of genius we had already had the foresight to top up on insect repellant. The hostal, run by 4 Swiss guys, had a delicious all you can eat buffet when we got there, which Mark took full advantage of, even managing to swipe some for lunch the following day.
We took a boat tour down river to the coastal town of Livingston, home to a Garifuna population. The Garifuna are allegedly
descendants from a black slave ship, wrecked off the coast 250 years ago. The tour got off to bit of a bad start. The challenging weather conditions made it feel like being on a rodeo ride whilst simultaneously lashed with horizontal rain at high speed. Luckily the rain had stopped by the time we reached our first port of call. River side huts surrounded by a blanket of waterlillies where the locals fish from dugout canoes. We continued slowly along the river stopping at various waterfalls and a thermal spring flowing out of the canyon walls. The canyon itself was spectacular, the vertical rock face, over 50m high, was covered with lush jungle vegetation and highlighted by brilliant white herons. We arrrived in Livingston and were given a couple of hours to explore and have lunch. We ended up chatting to a local Garifuna man who was well travelled as his Punta band had played many international gigs. He was quite a character and whilst telling us about his culture showed us a good place for lunch. The local speciality is tapado which is a rich stew made from seafood, coconut milk and bananas and spiced up with corriander. Thankfully
it tasted nice as Karen was initially horrified when the fish's face floated up to the surface. Livingstone is a bit rough round the edges but the Punta band playing in a nearby restaurant gave the locals and tourists something to 'shake their booty' to.
Over a few beers that night we decided to alter our route and head into Honduras, namely to the ruins of Copan. The journey to Copan Ruinas, included a boat ride, 2 buses and 3 collectivos. Whenever the buses here pull up in a town, hoards of vendors swarm onto the bus selling a variety of food carried in baskets on their heads. The ones not quick enough to get on the bus hound you by banging on the windows.
Copan Ruinas is a pretty cobble-stoned little village on the side of a mountain, which thrives on the passing tourist trade. On our first evening we witnessed perhaps the shoddiest circus act we had ever seen, performed by a European couple, who were travelling the world in a double decker bus. It was so crap, we are now considering buying leotards and funding the rest of our travels by balancing each other in random plazas
throughout Central America!
The next morning we took a short walk to the nearby ruins. Copan is famous for its well preserved Mayan sculptures and carvings. The most impressive feature was the heiroglyphic stairway. A giant monument honouring the last 6 Kings of Copan with incripted information lining the sides and each individual step. There are various excavation tunnels, dug by archaeologists, that show a variety of sacred tombs and earlier structures built over by the existing ones. We got chatting to one of the guards who let us in to have a look for half price! With a view towards our diminishing budget, we managed to get a free guided tour by hanging around the important spots long enough to wait for an English speaking tour group to come through! Copan was well worth the trip to Honduras, as we overheard, "If Tikal is the New York of the Mayan world then Copan is the Paris."
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