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Published: January 4th 2006
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From Palenque I took a crowded collectivo to Tenosique with a small girl asleep on my side, the mother seemed happy as long as I was. Frustated by the seemingly way out-of-date bits and pieces, and the general confusing nature of my guide-book, I managed to find a much cheaper, quicker and easy border crossing point than the one they mentioned. I came across it accidently by asking locals who were dumbfounded by why I would want to cross the way the guide suggested. Very much proving the point that it is only a rough guide (thought not actually a Rough Guide) not a bible.
The border crossing was eventful, and funny looking back, but it pissed me off at the time. I rose at 5pm, caught a cheap bus to place called El Ciebo (not on my map) from here after walking through a run-down market along an awful road and then a unsigned track into seeming nothingness. Half-asleep I got confused into thinking a guy showing me the way was also from the bus and not a guy trying to flog me a lancha along the river. After having a long and confusing discussion about whether I should have visited Mexican immigration to get an exit stamp (and whether I could be bothered to walk the 20minutes back) I ended having a private trip and paid way over what I should have done. I was half-asleep and I was cursing myself the whole trip there for both paying US$20 when I should of shared a boat and paid about $3 and whether I need a stamp, and hence whether I might get send back from the Guatemalan border. However, I was awake enough to think that I couldn´t see why the Guatemalans would care if I had the stamp or not, and thankfully they didn´t. They were actually the most laid-back officials I had ever met, and obviously not having been to busy with foreigners they had to boot up the computer on my arrival. After some confusion over the US Visa in my passport (which is actually a work visa but it doesn´t say that on it) they eventually stamped me in without even charging me the unofficial entry fee the infamously corrupt Guatemalan officials are well known for.
It wasn´t long before I had been conned again, with no Quetzales on me I ending up again paying way over the odds in Pesos to get a bus to Flores, unaware of the exchange rate. But again being on Guatemalan prices this was basically paying $10 for a four hour journey when I should have paid half, no disaster. I understood enough Spanish to catch the other passenger, a Honduran telling the guy he had given me a shit rate. On arrival a pushy local insisted on leading me to my hotel and ´helping me´ sign-up for a tour I was going to do anyway - I ended up giving him a tip just to get rid of him. I think I need to lose my politeness in this type of situation. Exhausted and irrated with my slow-wittedness I collasped in my bed. After some confusion over time, I ended up missing my bus to Tikal, and then once again in the morning (Christmas day), before eventually making my way there.
It was humid at Tikal, and full of large families along the long paths between sites. Another impressive site like Palenque but with rainforest not quite as attractive. Tikal has an underdeveloped feel to it with much of the site still uncovered despite having been discovered over 150 years ago, and having been open to the public for the last 50. As I said earlier I was started to feel all ruined out and lacking in the enjoyment I felt I should be experiencing. After climbing one of the many sets of perilous steps I came across the highlight of Tikal for me. This being one of the several towers built so high that they lift out over the top of the trees, giving amazing views for miles across the densely wooded, flat land.
I spent evening at dinner with a German I seem to keep bumping into everywhere I go. Interesting girl who has spent 8 years working and travelling in different countries away from her homeland, impressive.
On another of Guatemala´s poor quality roads I visited two towns across the lake, San Andres and San Jose. The former was dead, apart from a few kids playing with fire-crackers (common throughout Guatemala I would soon discover) on the insanely steep streets leading to the lake. The later had a pleasant bay area to chill at but little else of interest.
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