Castles, Hot Waterfalls, Rivers, Lakes, French Friends and Interesting New Drinks

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Rio Dulce

We got up very early the next morning to make our way to Fronteras, a town more commonly referred to as Rio Dulce as it sits on said river ('the sweet river'), which flows out of Guatemala's largest lake, Lago Izabal.

5 Buses and 10 hours later we arrived into this hot and steamy town. The journey was typically arduous, overfull mini-buses, being dropped at the side of the road in unfamiliar dingy looking places, crazy mini-bus drivers and stifling heat, so we were glad to finally arrive. Although the town itself is nothing special, it is the river, lake, and surrounding natural attractions that draw people here. We stayed at a place called Casa Perico, a nice place a short boat ride away, hidden away behind the shores of the lake, reached via a short waterway, about 10 minutes away from the town. Each hut here was linked by a wooden boardwalk. Ours was at the end, a huge cabin with bathroom, double bed, two single beds and a back porch with hammock (where we provided plenty of sustenance for the horseflies there) all to ourselves. Here there was a restaurant/bar and kayaks to use to paddle out onto the lake to a good swimming spot. Apparently there are crocodiles here, but they're not dangerous. So this was on our minds as we swam around!

The next day we visited Finca El Paraiso, a working ranch with, among a few other small visitor amenities, a large waterfall that drops a lot of very hot water into a pool good for swimming in. This was quite a surreal experience! There was a typically sulfurous pong, and a fish here that took a small chunk out of my foot.

On our way back into town we were piled into the most overcrowded minibus so far, so much so that the next people to flag the bus down were refused entry, something I have not seen happen before. Nevertheless, two men in this group climbed onto the roof.

We then walked a mile or two to a small castle called 'El Castillo San Felipe de Lara'. Compared to castles in Britain it is tiny, but very well preserved, and beautifully set against the shores of the lake, itself ringed by jungle, with coconut palms dotted around outside the castle. It was built gradually beginning in the 17th century as a consequence of the many pirate attacks in the area, the pirates being drawn to the ships laden with gold and other new world riches being shipped back to Spain. There was also an area for swimming in the lake, which came as very welcome after the long hot walk, the bus journey, and before that the less than refreshing swim under the hot waterfall! On this mini-bus were a couple from France, Morgan and George. Although they spoke no English, and we no French, we got talking with them (in Spanish, the only language we all shared), and got on so well that we spent the next 5 days together.

Livingston

The next day we took a boat ride down the river to the town of Livingston. Along the way we stopped regularly but briefly to look at particular sights. There were islands in the lakes with huge colonies of birds on them, mostly egrets and cormorants, where all of the trees that they perched on where 'painted' white. We passed small riverside villages, one of which had a large floating lilly garden, where local children rowed out to our boat, wishing to sell small handicrafts and show us a turtle they had in a pot. Then there was a hot spring coming out of the side of the river bank. They had dammed it here so that it didn't mix with the river water, meaning that it was far too hot to even dip your foot in! Here we tried our first coconut bread, and very nice it was too! We also went through a steep sided gorge with brown pelicans swooping and soaring all around us. As the weather had been perfect for the trip (very little wind, calm water, but a bit cloudy) we arrived into Livingston after about 1.5 hours. Here you reach the river mouth as it meets the sea, and are greeted by a lot of very old boats, some in use by the local fisherman, and some in use only by the local bird populations (these were also splattered white!). We pulled up to the jetty and stepped onto Livingston, which is only accesed in this way, there are no roads connecting it to anywhere else.

Livingston is a largely Garifuna town - Garifuna being the descendants of African slaves brought to the area by Europeans, in particular the slaves that revolted on Haiti and were forcably relocated, again, to the islands along this coast. Here they mixed with the local indigenous people, as well as shipwrecked sailors and pirates over the years, and so are quite a unique people. It is a lot more Carribean in feel here, as opposed to Latin American, and a lot of people here speak a kind of English, as well as Spanish.

A chap whose name I have forgotten met us at the dock and took it upon himself to show us around the towns accomodations. He had a preference, and probably got a decent commision if we went to this particular place, but he took us around a few others as well, carrying some bags, and he turned out to be a nice guy. Morgan and George stayed at his reccomendation, African Place, but we chose to look for somewhere else and stayed at a slightly cheaper (and probably a bit nicer place!) just down the road, called Hotel Garifuna. We then spent an hour or two ambling around town, partly with the aforementioned guy. We went for a drink at a beach bar that he reccomended and tried the local concoction, a drink that goes by the name of Guiffiti.

Guiffiti is a popular local drink with supposed medicinal qualities made by steeping various different herbs in rum. It is then drunk neat. A small wooden shack bar was opened seemingly especially for us and we all sat on chairs on the sand and drank our guiffiti. During this time, two very crazy men came up to us separately and had short conversations with us and with our new guide/friend. One of these was an old chap with suspicious stains on his trousers that took a shine to me and George, complimenting our handsomeness. We didn't stay here too much longer.

That evening we went out for dinner, us four plus two others - one of which who had been on the minibus from Finca El Paraiso - whom were both from Quebec, Canada, and spoke French as their first language (but also very good Spanish). We went to a restaurant called Tlingo Lingo that Sarah and I had in fact eaten lunch at. The head of this small restaurant was a lady named Maria, who took pride in showing us the bottle of chlorine that she uses to disinfect all of her vegetables, and in thrusting her home made curry spice mix under our noses for inspection. She is originally from Mexico but also lived in India when she was married to an Indian man. Her many dishes reflect this, and the food was indeed very nice. Here many of us had 'coco locos' as our drinks - this being a green coconut with the top cut off, with the coconut water mixed with coconut milk, coconut cream, rum and some other 'secret ingredients'. They were really good, and really quite large. Although our four companions spoke very little English (if any), so would speak to Maria in Spanish, because she had chatted with us earlier in the day she spoke only English to the whole table, and she was prone to ramble about some strange things. Nevertheless the politeness of the other four led them to simulate understanding. It was quite a funny evening.

Afterwards we went to a discoteca on the beach. It was in a partially open sided wooden building that sat right on the waters edge. The music was hard to describe - a sort of bass heavy, modern dance and hip hop influenced take on salsa type music. I didn't like it too much, but we had a drink as the beer was very cheap, and you couldn't fault the setting. Furthermore, it was interesting to watch Livingston's younger populace letting loose, salsa hip-hop style. We also bumped into the aforementioned guide/temporary friend, who was really happy to see us, and was a wee bit tipsy.

The next morning, having called it a night after finishing our one drink at the discoteca, we set out to meet Morgan and George as we were taking a boat to a beach that is pretty much inaccesible by land from Livingston called Playa Blanca. We met them at a small shop across the road, and once again bumped into our friend/guide. It seemed he hadn't stopped partying, and he again was happy to see us and very friendly. Unfortunately, another chap who perhaps should have gone to bed a while ago spotted us, came over and, taking a liking to Morgan, embraced her in a big drunken cuddle. Our new friend (and I do feel bad about forgetting his name) being the chivalrous and kind hearted chap he was, didn't stand for this and shoved the guy off. Then commenced an incredibly slow shoving and shouting match that we silently slinked away from.

The boat trip to Playa Blanca was really great. It followed the coast for around 30 minutes, affording really great views of the jungle covered coastline. The beach was beautiful, and apart from the two dogs and the few guys who were there to take the small entrance fee and sell beers if you wanted to buy them, the beach was completely ours. So we spent the next 5 or 6 hours relaxing here on the beautiful coconut palm covered beach. The warm carribean sea in front of us, and the jungle behind. When it came time to leave the wind had picked up considerably and the conditions were less than perfect. A few times it felt as if the boat could have tipped over sideways, and many times huge waves would come out of nowhere and we'd ride over them and crash back down onto the water on the other side with a huge crack. But after around 1 hour and 30 minutes we were back on dry land, absolutely soaking wet.

That evening we went out for a drink at a bar on the edge of town that had a live band (consisting of a keyboard player, a bongo player and a singer with two turtle shells tied around his neck played as percussion, which is a traditional instrument around here, the name I have of course forgotten). It was a funny place, with a few people slumped asleep on tables and very very cheap beer. They brought us some prawns as tapas. The people here were, on the whole, really really friendly and we chatted with the singer/turtle shell percussionist for a good while in between his sets, while stood over the water on the small pier that the bar backed onto. He was originally from Belize, and spoke fluent English and Spanish. He encouraged me and George to play on his turtle shells, but not Sarah or Morgan for some reason, and we had pictures taken of us with this shell percussion and the bongo player throwing shapes next to us. We then went for one of the cheapest dinners we have ever had, all of us a little tipsy, not quite sure what we were going to get, only knowing that it was supposed to by a Comida Tipica (typical meal).

The others had grilled red meat, refried black beans, cream, white cheese, and maize tortillas. I had the same but with scrambled egg instead of meat. Very nice it was. We then called it an evening as we had an earlyish boat ride in the morning back to Rio Dulce/Fronteras where we intended to catch a bus to Flores, the main town serving Guatemala's main tourist attraction, the ancient Mayan city ruins of Tikal.

N.B.1 You may have noticed that our photographs are not of their usual high calibre. There is a reason for this, but i'm afraid that you will have to wait until the blog following the following blog to find out! (Although most people I think already know the reason).

N.B.2 We are publishing this from Panama, as we are a bit behind! So expect a few in quick succession to get back up to date

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Photos

El Castillo
Rio Dulce

The boat to Livingston
El Rio Dulce. It really was named Influenza!

Ben drinking Coco Loco
Livingston

Discoteca
Livingston

Playa Blanca
Livingston