Learning to say left

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David taps me on the shoulder as I awake crumpled on the bus and whispers, “Hey Drew, Just thought I’d let you know that the bus is going to be stuck here for next 8 hours. The car ferry is not working they need to fix it.”

“Okay thanks for that David”, I sarcastically thought.



We had just changed the itinerary the day before to realise we should have changed it to this way instead taking us back toward the south of Guatemala to Semuc Champey - to date the best destination I went to in Central America.



From Honduras we could have taken a ferry to Belize, which was the original plan but we heard about Belize’s $25 exit fee and that a place called Livingstone is a good alternative in Guatemala. We looked at the map and noticed we could get up to Tikal and avoid exiting Belize twice on the way to Mexico so Livingstone it was.



Livingstone is a short boat ride away along the Caribbean. For some reason the boat was driven in the waves instead of the calmness of the river waters only 30m away. This caused my sisters fiancée David to cluster up giant water patches over his face and body.



Livingston is one of the many home villages of the Garifuna community. The Garifuna are the black Carib people who can be traced back to the Carib island of St Vincent where two Spanish ships were wrecked off the coast in 1635 carrying Nigerians heading for America. They mixed with another race the Caribs from South America. Under British control from the 17^th and 18^th century Garifuna fended off British plans for full control until 1796. The British hunted them down and transported them to the Honduras island of Roatan the more expensive island of the Bay of Islands. Those that survived then plied their trade and eventually made settlements along many parts of the coast from The Honduras border with Guatemala to the coast of Belize.



Weed is readily available in this part of the world, which doesn’t help in trying to understand them when they talk. The town is not much really but there are some nice walks along the streets with old Carib style wooden buildings colourfully painted. This area is also no good if you have long hair. There is no way of getting away with it, constantly being asked if I wanted to put it in braids.



To leave Livingstone there is a town called Rio Dulce that is a really nice boat ride through the forest which opens up to another lake which features many yachts from around the world. Cheap yachts can be purchased here if you know how to make some minor adjustments.



We got ripped off on the bus to Flores, I asked 6 different people and they were all in on it. I even asked the lady selling coconut juice and she said there is only one company. That company rips you off by $5 for a ‘special service.’ I said to my sister previously that, “At some point you are going to see me get the shits.” Today was that day.



As I boarded I noticed there is not enough seats on this very average looking bus. I walk out and yell out to the ticket person “No Hay Asiento! Porque no Asiento. Esta es no bien!” The bus driver picks out two children with a seat, tells them to sit on the steps at the front and we have separate seats. I have now been ripped off to feel like an idiotic tourist demanding a seat.



My sister had a couple in the seat in front of her where the guy had to do up his pants at the fruit checkpoint. The checkpoints were pretty strict. On our bus 4 days later this German guy got caught out with an orange in his bag. He just said moments earlier, “I have no fruit.” His face when the officer found it, it was like he got caught with drugs. Nothing happened to him.



The bus once in Flores stops so the tourists can get out of the public bus before the main bus station so a mini bus can drop you off the 5 minute ride in Flores. This ‘Special service’ is the $5 extra where the driver and assistant try and sell you tours and what not. I knew what was going on.



I say, “I’m not going to trust you since I just got ripped off on the bus ride, which you are connected to.” This is when he said that I am paying for a ‘Special service’.

I ridicule ‘Special service’ a tuk tuk costs $1.”

“We can drop you off here if you want. Fuck Off!” he responds



Eventually he dropped me off at the entrance of the island of Flores not the ‘serviced hotel drop off.’ Thinking he’s got rid of the pest and can now target two people in the front seat. I yell out to my sister and David. “Eleni! David! This is our stop!”



The town itself is a small island on the lake and is a gateway to the Mundo Maya. It has kept its old world feel despite the existence of mass tourism. It’s here where the main base is for the great Mayan ruin of Tikal. An early morning start at 4am means you’ll get there in time for the gates to open. The heat at this place is so intense and since Tikal is 90 minutes away from Flores you’ll start your walk around 6am, which is the best time to walk around.



We didn’t do the tour and just got the lift (this halved the price) and walked around ourselves. I have a tendency to not listen when guides talk so this made sense. We ended up seeing more than the tour did. Whilst they kept to a small amount we spent it seeing some of the outer spots and working our wayback towards the main attraction.



The entire site bar the main attraction is covered in forest, with some sides of temples covered in forest. It is a sight to see nature take over mans work. The previous evening I noticed a dust particle was showing up on one of my photos from that day. One of the most frustrating things to do whilst travelling is to try and get a small, normally, insignificant dust from inside the camera. Failure to do it that night meant I was forced to try and clean it on the run for the first half of the tour.



This meant the walk to Temple of Inscription where the only real quality carvings are seen I was stopping to try and get a dust particle out. When that succeeded I realised a new dust particle moved in and I was at it again. This time along the walks of to the Southern Acropolis and the Great Pyramid.

The pyramid is not like the Egyptian variety with steps leading through the middle of each side or in some cases just the one side. The Great Pyramid was the first of the temples we climbed. From the top, a small view through the trees toTemple 4. It is the highest temple in Tikal. A wooden staircase zigzags you to the top and the views are epic.



Considering they were built in around 741AD you really sense what a special and powering feeling it would have been to look down on the city from here. Now its just trees to the horizon and 3 other temples popping ever so slightly above the tree line.



We did a circle around the city concluding in the grand finale of the Great Plaza. Consisting of Temples 1 and 2 as well as the North Acropolis. Whilst at the top of Temple 4, we could see black smoke coming from the Grand Plaza. Either a bush fire had started or something is going on down there.



That something was a Mayan ceremony. It was part of a 5 day festival thanking the Gods for a good harvesting year and for the up coming year. They stood in the middle of the plaza with a bit of kerosene that kept the large fire going, singing and dancing around the fire anti-clock wise - An added bonus.



Back in Flores I went to Café Arqueologico Yaxha and tried their vegetarian dish Yucca. It’s a Mayan speciality with egg, tomato, herbs and this usually dry tasting shrub – yucca. But somehow it is a really filling and tasty meal. Definitely should try it if you have the chance.



We stuffed up the itinerary really and headed 7 hours south to Lanquin the main town for Semuc Champey. I had been teaching Eleni and David a few things whilst on the road. Small things that I’ve learned over the years of travel; like what to look for in a seat when embarking on a 7 hour trip. I always think of what time of day it is, whether I’m travelling north or south and then judge where the sun is going to be for most of the trip and sit the other side. Things like that… You don’t want to sweat it out all day.



I also went through some basics in Spanish. One time whilst in Campanero a Guatemalan fast food chicken shop. I was teaching them Spanish and David was in another world doing his own research. You can really tell what type of a student someone would have been when they were at school.



It was also funny hearing them struggle with some words that I struggled with like remembering the word for “bill please.” But my favourite is hearing them attempt the word for left – izquerda – Try it yourself – iz-care-da – roll the ‘r’ a bit.



So with the sunny side for the first few hours I somehow get to sleep when I get a tap on my shoulder and hear David inform me, “Hey Drew, Just thought I’d let you know that the bus is going to be stuck here for next 8 hours. The car ferry is not working they need to fix it.” – I had to repeat it.



When your bus can’t cross over a small creek of water you need to act cool in situations like this, making rash decisions never work out. My experience tells me that 8 hours is a bluff timeframe. It rarely is that long to solve problems. They say it however to give them time just in case it does take that long. So if it hit 6pm and people started getting the shits they could say. “Yeah but hey we said it will take 8 hours get back to us at 8pm.”



Usually you’ll get a better idea around 2 hours into waiting. I summed up the situation. The bus driver appeared to be staying with the vehicle and there was a small restaurant that looks out over the water and the car ferry being fixed. Other tourists crossed over the river to try and get another bus but we stayed patient and 2 hours later a crane starts pushing the ferry back into the water. The tourist’s over the other side head back on the small passenger boats and we are off again.



What was to take us 7 hours took 12 hours and we didn’t get there until nighttime. We stayed at Zephyr Lodge, a nice spot over looking a valley. A river cuts through and is a good spot to go tubing but people pulled out and we didn’t have enough people.



Our accommodation had a few cats where one horny ginger kept on trying to knock up this poor black cat that was already knocked up. Interestingly it wasn’t until this Central American trip that I had seen a cat jump another and start humping. It was a really weird visual. Oh and the knocked up cat was getting ready and chose a customers bed for her pregnancy… Really marked her territory if you know what I mean.



The next day we headed to Semuc Champey and did the tour with the hostel and what a great decision that was! We jump on the back of a small truck and stand with about another 12 other tourists and bump our way for half an hour until we hit these caves.



The tour is action packed with hikes, jumping off things, sliding around, getting covered in water and the caves is just the beginning of the adventure. Our guide Carlos hands everyone a candle and lights it up.



Called the Kan’Ba Caves it is privately owned and due to the rocks pointing out and no hard hats it adds to the adventure. There is a slight adrenalin rush, not too much but a little when you slide around going neck high deep in water. Also having to do egg beater kicks to keep not only yourself breathing but the candle alight. There are some risky jumps and a small waterfall you climb and abseil.



The main attraction is however is Seumc Champey, which is where Rio Cahabon cuts underground briefly leaving atop a suspended limestone bridge with a series of pools descending down in perfect turquoise waters.



The best view to appreciate the grand scale is at a long 40 minute tough hike to one of the gorges jungle filled sides. It is a clear highlight view in Central America as the pools pop up from nowhere as the forest continues on up and down the valley.



The tour doesn’t finish as you walk down to the pools where at the beginning you see the river rage under the start of the bridge. The guide gives you a moment to spend relaxing in the pools and after half an hour invites you to join him as he uses what seems to be every inch of the multiple pools.



There is no way you could see or do what we did in the pools without the guide. As Carlos finds the safe areas to jump. The sometimes-safe part to slide along the limestone rock into the next pool. He even takes you under one pool through some cracks and a little space for breathing. All this time Carlos would disappear and pop up in random parts of the pools. A constant comment from the group was, “Where’s Carlos?” and sure enough like a magician he’d pop up somewhere not where you are looking.



I’d be lying if I said that I enjoyed Central America totally but this part was easily the best region to travel it. There is a bit more adventure to it, travelling from A-B is a bit harder and it’s away from the Hwy1 crowd so the people travelling it have more of a personality, which helps. There is also a better connection with the local people too.

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