The wheels on the bus go round and round

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...or rather, they don't. I had grand plans of catching the 3am bus to Guatemala city on Monday, getting a long way into Honduras before overnighting, and reaching Utilla on Tuesday with plenty of time to organise diving for Wednesday. When it came to it, however, I wanted to say goodbye to everyone and so I lingered over breakfast, reaching the bus stop with 15 minutes to spare before the 11 o'clock bus. If there had been an 11 o'clock bus. I was told the next bus was at 12, although it didn't actually arrive until 12.40. It then stopped 30 minutes later to tell us that becuase there weren't enough people, we'd have to get off and wait for the 2pm. This didn't arrive until 2.30. We then ran into numerous traffic jams and construction, and the bus spent frustratingly long periods of time stationary at the side of the road. At some point I noticed that it had started to rain. My rucksack was on the roof. Howling children, horn-blasts and Guatemalan pop music blaring out of the speakers were all irritating, but still not quite loud enough to drown out the noise made by the couple in front of me snogging. A note to people travelling with partners - we are all jealous, at least some of the time. Don't rub our noses in it. Especially on the bus journey from hell.

The bus finally reached Guatemala city at 10pm - a journey that should only have taken 3-4 hours. My head was throbbing, and I paid a small fortune for a taxi and a slightly larger fortune for a room, scattered my damp clothes around various fixtures and fittings and went to sleep.

When I woke the next morning, my head was still throbbing and my glands were huge. Conscious that the BAy Islands were very much not in the right direction, that I wouldn't get there that day and that I certainly didn't have time to sit there and hope that I could recover and dive, I decided to head North, to Mexico's Yucutan Peninsular. Being so much closer to Mexico City would cut down the amount of travelling I would have to do later, and I would be able to sit on the beach and recuperate - diving would still be available if it became a possibility. I headed to the bus stop.

10 hours later I was in Flores, shivering and flushed, booking a ticket to Chetumal in Mexico for 5am the following morning. I slept badly that night, but made the bus. The journey took me through Belize, incuring a $15 exit fee even though I had only been in the country for 4 hours (an exit fee the travel agent had specifically assured me did not exist). Changing buses on the Mexican border, I arrived in Tulum at 6pm, utterly exhausted.

In the last few days I had spent money like it was water, too ill to haggle or compare prices. But now I could settle for a few days - I had a bed and an all-you-can-eat breakfast, and with any luck my temperature would return to normal, my glands would subside, my ears would unblock themselves and I could finally get underwater.

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