Since I last posted I've covered a lot of ground. First I took a bus from Antigua over to Lake Atitlan in Guatamala. I took a mini-bus there and happened to be the only the passenger on board so I got to sit up front and chat with the driver who spoke excellent English. Apparently he also has a business in Springfield, Ohio (OH10), and spends several months of the year there. He pointed out a lot of different sights to me along the way, "See those buildings, they are all whorehouses. Only 50 Quetzales."
We stopped at an excellent restaurant along the way and took our time chatting, and taking pictures of the countryside. Eventually we arrived in Panajachel and I got my first look at Lake Atitlan. The lake itself is a collapsed volcano cone which has filled with water. It is now ringed by several inactive volcanoes which are covered with lush green forest and fields of maize. Just looking at the area itself is a worthwhile activity. It's no exaggeration to say it is one of the most breathtaking sights I've seen on this, or any other trip.
My Kiwi friend Bryce had told me I simply had to check out a town there called San Pedro La Laguna. He described it as a "...real laid back place..." And he was right. In fact San Pedro is almost a little too laid back for my tastes. I can easily see how one could spend six weeks here studying Spanish as Bryce did. The town has great restaurants, really chill bars, and just about every one of them shows a different Hollywood movie every night. The thing is, if you're on a time schedule, or only there for a couple of days there isn't much to do. There's really only two things to do in fact: kyak the lake, or climb the nearby San Pedro volcano.
While searching for a guesthouse along the main road I was quite surprised to hear someone calling out my name. I glanced around and saw my British friend Richard who I'd traveled with in Belize and Guatamala. I took this as a good omen and checked into the same hotel as him and his traveling companion Eamer. We set out for drinks and discussed what we'd been up to since we parted ways weeks ago in Rio Dulce. They highly recommended El Salvador to me, but I'll have no time for it on this trip.
The next day I wandered around getting to know the town. Had coffee, did some reading, and got a haircut. San Pedro has great coffee. Probably better even than the fabled coffee of Antigua. The town also has a strong Mayan presence, especially when you get off the main roads and disappear into the outskirts of town. Unfortunately, the main area of town is full of burned out hippie travelers who seem to while away their days smoking weed, selling tacky necklaces, and living off their trust funds.
Eventually, deciding I needed something to do I signed up for a hike up the nearby San Pedro volcano. The tour left at 6am the next morning, and the hike up the volcano was four hours long. Four hours long at about a seventy degree angle the whole way. This was certainly a harder hike than the one up Pacaya by a long shot. The challenge itself was one of the reasons I did it. Along the way there were several lookout points where we stopped to take pictures and marvel at how far we'd come. Around 1/4 of the way there our guide told us we were half way. This trend of light deception continued the whole way, and served to keep me from turning back.
Once we'd reached the top of the volcano, however it all seemed worthwhile. We sat among the clouds eating bananna bread and drinking copius amounts of water. In between passing clouds we got a spectacular view of the lake and the towns below. After an hour or so we started our decent which took about three hours. I'm writing this passage five days later and my calves still hurt. Thankfully my siatica didn't act up. I'd hate to have had to come down the whold mountainside on my rear.
The next day I got up early and started the four hour journey back to Antigua, where I booked an overnight bus to Belize City. All the usual hassels involved in long range bus travel were present and accounted for. Inedible food, a smelly latrine with a broken door, and the requisite two hour wait for a connecting bus at the border. But thirty hours later I arrived in Belize City, where I immediately jumped another bus to head to Orange Walk.
Orange Walk is a small city about two hours north of Belize City and is commonly used as a jumping off point to check out the Mayan pyramids of Lamanai, exactly the reason I was headed there. Upon arrival I checked into a hotel, booked my tour for the morning and ate a simple meal of chicken, rice, and beans. There was a television in my room, and in my exhausted state I spent the evening lounging in my hotel and watching Comedy Central and CNN.
The tour the next day was quite nice. It started at 9am and we took an hour plus motorboat ride along a long, winding river surrounded by dense jungle. We stopped along the way as our guides pointed out iguana, crocodiles, and various tropical birds.
The archeological site itself was a good one. We had a very informative guide, and scaled the tallest of the structures for a nice view of the river. I actually enjoyed this site quite a bit more than Copan.
I'll be headed back over to Caye Caulker later today for some snorkeling, and possibly more diving if my budget allows.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Gringo Parlour
So, I just spent a couple of days in Antigua. For those who don´t know, Antigua is the former capital of Guatamala, and a cultural icon of Guatamala. It´s also over run by tourists, and young foreigners who flock to the city for it´s cheap Spanish schools and multitude of bars. Fortuantely the colonial architecture, friendly locals, and beautiful surrounding landscape still make this a necessary stop on the Central American tour circuit.
I´d traveled all the way from Utilla with a fellow American named Evan who was a member of the aforementioned Cooper´s Crew family. Upon arrival in Antigua we made plans to do a guided tour of the city first thing in the morning. It was a good value at $10US and it gave me a better idea of the history and the layout of the city.
Antigua served as the capital of Guatamala for over two hundred years. In 1773 however it was devistated by an enourmous earthquake, and three years later the capital was moved to Guatamala City where it still is today. Besides the quaint cobblestone streets and colorful colonial buildings, one of Antiqua´s most distinguished features is it´s churches. The city has several of them, most of which stand in the same state of disrepair they´ve been in since the earthquake rocked the city over two hundred years ago.
Guatamala Social Club
So admittedly one of the reasons I had been so determined to leave Utilla when I did was that I wanted to make it to Antigua on a Wednesday. The reason being was that one of the members of the infamous Buena Vista Social Club holds concerts there at a bar called Riki´s every Wednesday. I´m sure most of you are already familiar with the Buena Vista Social Club, but for those of you who aren´t I´ll merely say that they are a group of outstanding Afro-Cuban musicians who have been immortalized (in the west) by a documentary Wim Wenders shot in the 90´s. It would not be an overstatement to say that the members of this band are the Cuban equivalent of James Brown.
Evan and I had originally planned to do our walking tour in the morning, climb the nearby Pacaya volcano in the afternoon, and make it back just in time to catch the Wednesday night concert. Everything started off smoothly until about twenty minutes into our bus ride to Pacaya the serpentine belt of the bus snapped and we bacame stranded on the side of the road. By the time they got us a new bus it was almost four o´clock and I knew if we continued on with the trip we would miss the concert. Luckily we were able to catch a ride back to Antigua from the tour operator who brought us the new bus and were given vouchers to climb the volcano the next day.
We certainly made the right decision. When we arrived at the concert I couldn´t believe our luck. The club itself was about the size of my parent´s living room. Maybe smaller even. There was no cover charge whatsoever, and the band played three lenghty sets, each with a progressively higher level of intensity. The place was packed beyond fire hazard status, but I managed to weasel my way up to the very front where I remained until 1am when the final set ended. Out of the many hundreds of concerts I´ve seen, this one certainly ranks near the top. Easily up there with Fugazi, Mouse on Mars, and Frozen Rabbit.
Joe vs. the Volcano
The next day Evan and I woke up late, bummed around the city and rested in anticipation of our volcanic ascension. When we arrived at the tour office at 2pm, we were picked up by the very same bus which had failed to deliver us the day before. However this time the ride to our hiking depature point went off without a hitch.
The hike up the valcano was an easy one. Somewhat steep, but with several resting points along the way. The ascent lasted just over an hour before we reached a point at which we stumbled along layers of petrified lava. We could feel the heat rising beneath us from the lava which flowed underneath, and eventually we were able to get around twenty feet of so from an area with free flowing lava. At certain points the rocks we hiked across were so hot that several members of our tour left with the soles of there shoes completely melted through. My trusty Rockports however did just fine thanks to their Vibram soles.
We fumbled through the dark back to the bottom and caught our bus back towards Antigua. Which, of course, promptly broke down thrity minutes into the ride. Thankfully I was able to keep my sense of humor about the whole affair, and eventually fell asleep while waiting for them to send another bus all the way from Antigua.
I´d traveled all the way from Utilla with a fellow American named Evan who was a member of the aforementioned Cooper´s Crew family. Upon arrival in Antigua we made plans to do a guided tour of the city first thing in the morning. It was a good value at $10US and it gave me a better idea of the history and the layout of the city.
Antigua served as the capital of Guatamala for over two hundred years. In 1773 however it was devistated by an enourmous earthquake, and three years later the capital was moved to Guatamala City where it still is today. Besides the quaint cobblestone streets and colorful colonial buildings, one of Antiqua´s most distinguished features is it´s churches. The city has several of them, most of which stand in the same state of disrepair they´ve been in since the earthquake rocked the city over two hundred years ago.
Guatamala Social Club
So admittedly one of the reasons I had been so determined to leave Utilla when I did was that I wanted to make it to Antigua on a Wednesday. The reason being was that one of the members of the infamous Buena Vista Social Club holds concerts there at a bar called Riki´s every Wednesday. I´m sure most of you are already familiar with the Buena Vista Social Club, but for those of you who aren´t I´ll merely say that they are a group of outstanding Afro-Cuban musicians who have been immortalized (in the west) by a documentary Wim Wenders shot in the 90´s. It would not be an overstatement to say that the members of this band are the Cuban equivalent of James Brown.
Evan and I had originally planned to do our walking tour in the morning, climb the nearby Pacaya volcano in the afternoon, and make it back just in time to catch the Wednesday night concert. Everything started off smoothly until about twenty minutes into our bus ride to Pacaya the serpentine belt of the bus snapped and we bacame stranded on the side of the road. By the time they got us a new bus it was almost four o´clock and I knew if we continued on with the trip we would miss the concert. Luckily we were able to catch a ride back to Antigua from the tour operator who brought us the new bus and were given vouchers to climb the volcano the next day.
We certainly made the right decision. When we arrived at the concert I couldn´t believe our luck. The club itself was about the size of my parent´s living room. Maybe smaller even. There was no cover charge whatsoever, and the band played three lenghty sets, each with a progressively higher level of intensity. The place was packed beyond fire hazard status, but I managed to weasel my way up to the very front where I remained until 1am when the final set ended. Out of the many hundreds of concerts I´ve seen, this one certainly ranks near the top. Easily up there with Fugazi, Mouse on Mars, and Frozen Rabbit.
Joe vs. the Volcano
The next day Evan and I woke up late, bummed around the city and rested in anticipation of our volcanic ascension. When we arrived at the tour office at 2pm, we were picked up by the very same bus which had failed to deliver us the day before. However this time the ride to our hiking depature point went off without a hitch.
The hike up the valcano was an easy one. Somewhat steep, but with several resting points along the way. The ascent lasted just over an hour before we reached a point at which we stumbled along layers of petrified lava. We could feel the heat rising beneath us from the lava which flowed underneath, and eventually we were able to get around twenty feet of so from an area with free flowing lava. At certain points the rocks we hiked across were so hot that several members of our tour left with the soles of there shoes completely melted through. My trusty Rockports however did just fine thanks to their Vibram soles.
We fumbled through the dark back to the bottom and caught our bus back towards Antigua. Which, of course, promptly broke down thrity minutes into the ride. Thankfully I was able to keep my sense of humor about the whole affair, and eventually fell asleep while waiting for them to send another bus all the way from Antigua.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Holy Diver!
Five days or so after reaching Utilla, I made my mind up. I would dive. I had to overcome my fear and just go for it. Many of our crew began disappearing. Bryce, Jed and Leah left for Nicaragua. Friends came and went. I stayed.
Wes, Julie, and a young Scotsman named Stewart and I all agreed to take our Open Water Certification class together. We spent a couple of days talking to the different dive shops and trying to decide which one to enroll with.
Searching for a dive shop is hard. You are after all entrusting these people with your life. You have to weigh the costs, versus the sense of security, find an instructor you´re comfortable with, and when deciding as a group, everyone has to agree. When choosing a dive shop inUtilla there´s an extra thing to consider: shopping local.
This will be a small digression and I´ll try not to make it a rant. There´s a serious problem forming in Utilla. The Honduran government has not taken the necessary precautions to ensure that the market won´t be taken over by foreign investment. In Thailand for instance, it is necessary to have a local own part of any business. If there isn´t a local involved taxes are so high that economic advantages are not as great. In Honduras no such laws seem to exist. Foreign owners can simply roll in with their (relatively speaking) big bank accounts, and set up shop. On Utilla the price of dive classes is fixed at $239 for Open Water certification, however many of the dive shops offer extra perks like free accomodation while diving with them, and cheap BBQ´s with all you can drink for $8US. These things make for an incredible value to the shoestring traveler, however it also takes business away from locally owned hotels and restaurants. It´s unfortunate but true that gradually the people of Utilla are being squeezed out of ownership of their own island.
Parrots of the Carribbean
So after all was said and done, we decided to go with one of only three locally owned dive shops on the island: Parrot´s Diving Center. Our instructor was a long haired 22 year old named Joel from Barcelona, Spain with over 2500 dives under his belt. The owner Jon had grown up on the island and had been diving there since he was eleven. He was a wealth of knowledge in regards to the different dive spots, and really knew the area as only a local could.
Our first day of class was spent watching videos and reading our textbooks. We didn´t actually get in the water until the second day. When we finally did I had a hard time adjusting. When we first deflated our life vests and submerged into the water my brain rejected the experience. I basically hit the eject button and surfaced immediately. My instructor was very patient and talked me through it.
"It just takes longer for some people to adjust to it.¨he said. After a minute or so I agreed to try again and joined the rest of my class under water.
Breathing under water is a very surreal experience. Not only is it an entirely unnatural thing to be doing, but your senses are all very mixed up as well. Everything appears larger and closer. There´s next to no sound that you recognize. Just the sound of your slow and shallow breathing. Eventually though you do get used to it. If you´re anything like me, you get addicted to it.
Escape from the Island
I stayed on Utilla long enough to do 12 dives. About seven in addition to my Open Water Course. On my last day there I did three dives. Two in the morning and one Night Dive. Night diving is the closest any of us could ever hope to get to being an astronaut. Floating through the darkness surrounded by the environment of another world. A tiny patch of light exposing unfamiliar creatures. Awesome in the truest sense of the word. I saw lobster, shrimp, and octopus.
Eventually I had to set a date, get up and leave or else I might have stayed quite a bit longer. I meant to be on Utilla for three days. When I left, I´d been there for two weeks. I could have stayed and done my Advanced Open Water, but Guatamala was calling. So finally I bid goodbye to Wes and Julie, packed my bag, and took the 6am ferry off the island. Now I´m back in Copan, en route to Antigua, and jonesing for a tank of canned air.
Wes, Julie, and a young Scotsman named Stewart and I all agreed to take our Open Water Certification class together. We spent a couple of days talking to the different dive shops and trying to decide which one to enroll with.
Searching for a dive shop is hard. You are after all entrusting these people with your life. You have to weigh the costs, versus the sense of security, find an instructor you´re comfortable with, and when deciding as a group, everyone has to agree. When choosing a dive shop inUtilla there´s an extra thing to consider: shopping local.
This will be a small digression and I´ll try not to make it a rant. There´s a serious problem forming in Utilla. The Honduran government has not taken the necessary precautions to ensure that the market won´t be taken over by foreign investment. In Thailand for instance, it is necessary to have a local own part of any business. If there isn´t a local involved taxes are so high that economic advantages are not as great. In Honduras no such laws seem to exist. Foreign owners can simply roll in with their (relatively speaking) big bank accounts, and set up shop. On Utilla the price of dive classes is fixed at $239 for Open Water certification, however many of the dive shops offer extra perks like free accomodation while diving with them, and cheap BBQ´s with all you can drink for $8US. These things make for an incredible value to the shoestring traveler, however it also takes business away from locally owned hotels and restaurants. It´s unfortunate but true that gradually the people of Utilla are being squeezed out of ownership of their own island.
Parrots of the Carribbean
So after all was said and done, we decided to go with one of only three locally owned dive shops on the island: Parrot´s Diving Center. Our instructor was a long haired 22 year old named Joel from Barcelona, Spain with over 2500 dives under his belt. The owner Jon had grown up on the island and had been diving there since he was eleven. He was a wealth of knowledge in regards to the different dive spots, and really knew the area as only a local could.
Our first day of class was spent watching videos and reading our textbooks. We didn´t actually get in the water until the second day. When we finally did I had a hard time adjusting. When we first deflated our life vests and submerged into the water my brain rejected the experience. I basically hit the eject button and surfaced immediately. My instructor was very patient and talked me through it.
"It just takes longer for some people to adjust to it.¨he said. After a minute or so I agreed to try again and joined the rest of my class under water.
Breathing under water is a very surreal experience. Not only is it an entirely unnatural thing to be doing, but your senses are all very mixed up as well. Everything appears larger and closer. There´s next to no sound that you recognize. Just the sound of your slow and shallow breathing. Eventually though you do get used to it. If you´re anything like me, you get addicted to it.
Escape from the Island
I stayed on Utilla long enough to do 12 dives. About seven in addition to my Open Water Course. On my last day there I did three dives. Two in the morning and one Night Dive. Night diving is the closest any of us could ever hope to get to being an astronaut. Floating through the darkness surrounded by the environment of another world. A tiny patch of light exposing unfamiliar creatures. Awesome in the truest sense of the word. I saw lobster, shrimp, and octopus.
Eventually I had to set a date, get up and leave or else I might have stayed quite a bit longer. I meant to be on Utilla for three days. When I left, I´d been there for two weeks. I could have stayed and done my Advanced Open Water, but Guatamala was calling. So finally I bid goodbye to Wes and Julie, packed my bag, and took the 6am ferry off the island. Now I´m back in Copan, en route to Antigua, and jonesing for a tank of canned air.
Monday, February 12, 2007
The Life Aquatic
So, it´s been a while since I updated, and I apologize for that. First off, let me assure you that the rumors flying around are completely inaccurate, and I am not in fact dead or destitute. I assure you there is a good reason for my "going dark" the last couple of weeks, a reason which will be explained in due time.
First things first, let me pick up where I last left off. After leaving Copan, I decided to travel with my new friend Bryce in the direction of La Cieba, Honduras. I had originally planned to go hiking in the cloud forest at the national park near Gracias, but my travel book didn´t seem to mention there being any guided tours in the park. I´m not very good with direction, and since the climb to the highest peak in the park takes more than a day I felt it would be foolish to attempt it alone.
However, Joyce and Sofi, two girls who were traveling with Bryce suggested I check out the Jungle Tours tour agency in La Cieba for an overnight excursion. So we all hopped on the next bus headed northward, and seven hours later arrived in La Cieba.
Most people use La Cieba as a travel hub, either to get to the Bay Islands, or to get to the jungle tours I mentioned above. Besides these two things all that La Cieba really has going for it is a two story shopping mall with an Applebee´s inside it. Delightful, and as you can imagine, just my kind of thing. That´s why I came to Honduras after all, to eat at Applebee´s, and watch Snakes on a Plane with Spanish sub-titltes.
I set about right away trying to get information on the jungle tours, but my efforts were rather fruitless. My guidebook sent me to the Amsterdam 2000 guesthouse for information, where the surley Dutch owner shouted at me from the couch, "The book is lies, it´s all lies!"
I made a quick decision that since the rest of my group was headed towards the island of Utilla, I´d go and chill out there for a couple of days before heading back to La Cieba to do my trekking. Little did I know, the island of Utilla is like a black hole. Once one enters into it´s grasp, it is almost impossible to escape.
Utilla the Hunn
When I first arrived in Utilla, I almost immediately regretted having gone there. It was pissing rain, and there aren´t really any good beaches there. I managed to buy a copy of the Hound of the Baskervilles, and spent my first day on the island sitting on the porch of my guesthouse, clothes soaked, staring at the rain, and reading Arthur Conan Doyle. In between stormy fits I managed to drop off some laundry and get a little bit of information about the island. For instance, I learned that the beach was full of sandflies, and that unless you plan on scuba diving, there´s nothing to really do there. Regrets, I´ve had a few. It was like Ko Tao all over again. Miserable weather and nothing to do. Or so I thought. And then there was the situation with the internet.
Here´s a against government regualtion if I´ve ever heard one. There is currently almost no internet access on Utilla. Why might you ask? While, apparently voice over IP services like Skype were eating into the governments telephone monopoly. So they simply shut it down. Armed guards came and tare apart the servers that provided internet to the island. Only two places on the island had internet at all. Both were a single 56k connection spread across multiple computers, and both were expensive as hell.
Cooper´s Crew
Bryce and I stayed at a wonderful, locally owned guesthouse called Cooper´s. It was quiet, cheap, and had a kitchen, as well as a large front porch which served as a common area. Our first day we made friends with two Canadian couples: Wes and Julie and Jed and Leah. They´d all been traveliong together for a week or two, and after consuming copius amounts of rum together, we became fast friends.
The weather cleared up the next day and we all went swimming together, which was nice. The next day we rented kayaks, which we tied up to buoys and then snorkeled. After a couple of days I began becoming more confident in my swimming abilities, and flirted with the idea of scuba diving. I´d always regretted not diving in Ko Thao while I was there. How could I do this to myself again? How could I spend time in one of the worlds best places to go diving, and sit on the sidelines? I should at least try, shouldn´t I? What´s the worst that could happen?
To Be Continued...
First things first, let me pick up where I last left off. After leaving Copan, I decided to travel with my new friend Bryce in the direction of La Cieba, Honduras. I had originally planned to go hiking in the cloud forest at the national park near Gracias, but my travel book didn´t seem to mention there being any guided tours in the park. I´m not very good with direction, and since the climb to the highest peak in the park takes more than a day I felt it would be foolish to attempt it alone.
However, Joyce and Sofi, two girls who were traveling with Bryce suggested I check out the Jungle Tours tour agency in La Cieba for an overnight excursion. So we all hopped on the next bus headed northward, and seven hours later arrived in La Cieba.
Most people use La Cieba as a travel hub, either to get to the Bay Islands, or to get to the jungle tours I mentioned above. Besides these two things all that La Cieba really has going for it is a two story shopping mall with an Applebee´s inside it. Delightful, and as you can imagine, just my kind of thing. That´s why I came to Honduras after all, to eat at Applebee´s, and watch Snakes on a Plane with Spanish sub-titltes.
I set about right away trying to get information on the jungle tours, but my efforts were rather fruitless. My guidebook sent me to the Amsterdam 2000 guesthouse for information, where the surley Dutch owner shouted at me from the couch, "The book is lies, it´s all lies!"
I made a quick decision that since the rest of my group was headed towards the island of Utilla, I´d go and chill out there for a couple of days before heading back to La Cieba to do my trekking. Little did I know, the island of Utilla is like a black hole. Once one enters into it´s grasp, it is almost impossible to escape.
Utilla the Hunn
When I first arrived in Utilla, I almost immediately regretted having gone there. It was pissing rain, and there aren´t really any good beaches there. I managed to buy a copy of the Hound of the Baskervilles, and spent my first day on the island sitting on the porch of my guesthouse, clothes soaked, staring at the rain, and reading Arthur Conan Doyle. In between stormy fits I managed to drop off some laundry and get a little bit of information about the island. For instance, I learned that the beach was full of sandflies, and that unless you plan on scuba diving, there´s nothing to really do there. Regrets, I´ve had a few. It was like Ko Tao all over again. Miserable weather and nothing to do. Or so I thought. And then there was the situation with the internet.
Here´s a against government regualtion if I´ve ever heard one. There is currently almost no internet access on Utilla. Why might you ask? While, apparently voice over IP services like Skype were eating into the governments telephone monopoly. So they simply shut it down. Armed guards came and tare apart the servers that provided internet to the island. Only two places on the island had internet at all. Both were a single 56k connection spread across multiple computers, and both were expensive as hell.
Cooper´s Crew
Bryce and I stayed at a wonderful, locally owned guesthouse called Cooper´s. It was quiet, cheap, and had a kitchen, as well as a large front porch which served as a common area. Our first day we made friends with two Canadian couples: Wes and Julie and Jed and Leah. They´d all been traveliong together for a week or two, and after consuming copius amounts of rum together, we became fast friends.
The weather cleared up the next day and we all went swimming together, which was nice. The next day we rented kayaks, which we tied up to buoys and then snorkeled. After a couple of days I began becoming more confident in my swimming abilities, and flirted with the idea of scuba diving. I´d always regretted not diving in Ko Thao while I was there. How could I do this to myself again? How could I spend time in one of the worlds best places to go diving, and sit on the sidelines? I should at least try, shouldn´t I? What´s the worst that could happen?
To Be Continued...
Friday, January 26, 2007
Guatamala, Interrupted
It´s been quite a while since my last update, and I apologize for that. Things are going well here. After I left Placencia, I took a boat, a bus, and two more boats to cross over to Guatamala.
The border crossing was fairly simple out of Belize, and only slightly more complicated into Guatamala.
I was instantly struck by how much more complex it will be to get around in Guatamala and Honduras. Frankly, my Spanish is terrible (read: nonexistant), and not many people here speak English. Luckily for me there were two girls, one German, one Argentinian, both who spoke Spanish, that were taking the same route as me. They helped me through the process and were quite patient (and amused) by my pathetic attempts to communicate with the locals.
Another thing that´s going to make it awfully tough traveling here, is that there is a huge banking crises right now in Guatamala. Apparently two of the largest banks in the country have gone bust, and everyone is (understandably) panicking and pulling their money out of the banks. This means that none of the ATMs have any cash in them. The only way to get money here right now, is to go into the bank and actually withdraw it through a teller. A far more complicated process than just pushing a few buttons at the ATM. Oh well, this is not an insurmountable problem, and these kinds of experiences make travel memorable as well, right?
The town I first came into in Guatamala was Puerto Barrios. Border towns are generally unpleasant round the world, and Puerto Barrios should consider changing it´s slogan to something like: Puerto Barrios, a great place to change your bus!
Entering Guatamala one immediately notices one thing: guns. There are lots and lots of guns here. So many in fact, that the immigration office has a sign out front requesting that people please not bring there handguns inside. Businesses all have armed security standing watch outiside, and one can instantly tell how much money the business makes by what kind of weapons the security outside are holding. Furniture and electronics store guards generally hold large menacing shotguns, whereas banks are guarded by smiling, helpful locals holding large semi-automatic rifles. I didn´t see any guards at the mini-marts or liquor stores, but I believe the owners wear jackets in this heat for a reason.
I tagged along with the two girls I´d met (Jessica and Maria), and they helped me withdraw money, and get our ferry tickets to the final destination of the day: Livingston, Guatamala. Livingston is a town which can only be reached by boat. It feels largely more Belizean than Guatamalen due to the enourmous Garifuna population who have made it their home. The sunset was beautiful as the boat appoached Livingston, and by the time we reached the port, the sun had set, giving the town a cool, distinctly Carribean feel. Many of the buildings were of a French colonial style and the main road was lined with shops and restaurants catering to travelers of all different budgets. Livingston, I presume, is a tourist trap. As these sorts of places become more set up for travel, the line between them and their Dineylworld doppleganger becomes increasingly blurred. Which, I suppose is why I ended up staying at the Hotel California.
Welcome to the Hotel California
The Hotel California is not a lovely place, it´s a flop house. But at $8US dollars a night including a private bath, it´s within my budget, and would have to do. Jessica and Maria went off to eat dinner, and I went to my room to take a shower and sort out laundry. I got the impression that I may have worn out my welcome with my two new aquaintences, and so I kept my distance from them for the remainder of my time in Livingston.
After I felt refreshed, I headed out to eat and ran into Richard and Eama, the British couple I´d left behind that morning in Placencia. They had left several hours after I did, and arrived just after me. Their connections apparently working out a tad bit more smoothly than mine. I joined them for dinner, and we all signed up to take a walking tour of the town in morning.
The walking tour the next day was exactly what I needed. A opportunity to get some excercise, see the town, and meet some other travelers. The tour was led by Francis and Eddie, two charming local Garifuna who kept me laughing throughout the day. While I can´t say the tour was especially informative, it made it a whole lot easier to have someone who knew how to get around to guide us.
Our tour took us to a local Catholic church, a colorfully painted cemetary, and then to a beautiful lookout point above the city. From the lookout we could see the ocean, and far away in the distance, the edges of both Belize and Guatamala. A bit of a Golden Traingle within Central America.
We hiked down to a boat landing where we took a canoe down to the beach. The beach wasn´t all that nice, but after hiking all day in the hot sun, a dip in the ocean was definitely in order. Next we hiked down the beach and then up to our final destination of the Seven Alters. The Seven Alters is a series of freshwater pools, which is fed by a small waterfall at the top. The pool at the top is shallow around the edges with a rather steep and immediate drop off. Since I´m not all that strong of a swimmer I stuck mostly to the edges, splashing around and cooling of again.
Later that night, I went to see some live Garifuna music at a local bar. Garifuna music is largely percussive, and similar in many ways to African music. The setup was several drums, turtle shells, a conch shell, and call and response vocals. The band played a short, energrentic set, and afterwards I headed back to my hotel for some sleep.
Dulce de Liche
The next morning Richard, Eama, and I all took a small boat out to Rio Dulce, a small town on the main land of Guatamala. The cruise itself is really the attraction here as the river is surrounded by beautiful jungle, mountains, and cliffs. We stopped along the way to see some caves, and a natural hot springs, arriving at the town of Rio Dulce in the early afternoon.
After finding a hotel, I walked down to the water and sat watching some local kids fishing. The evening was mostly spent sitting outside the hotel on patio trading rounds of beers and conversing with Richard Eama. This would be our last night of traveling together as in the morning I was to head for Honduras, as they headed further into Guatamala.
Bananna Republic
The next day was largely taken up by a long bus ride from Rio Dulce to the border of Honduras. I was joined on the bus by a travler from New Zealand named Bryce. An electrician by trade, Bryce was currently on a year long trip through South and Central America. This was not his first extended vacation, as he apparently alternates about a year to a year and a half of working and saving money, with nine to twelve months of travel.
The border crossing intoHonduras was largely uneventful, and once we´d arived at our destination of Copanas Ruinas, I was happy to see that the cash machines were working. No banking crises in Honduras. Bryce and I decided to share a double room at a hotel to save some money, and after finding accomodations had a nice dinner of chicken and rice.
the $25,000 Pyramid
The big reason travelers come to Copan Ruinas is to see the Mayan ruins of Copan, which are about one kilometer outside the city. The site itself is lovely, surrounded by lush tropical forest, and filled with colorful birds(including parrots). Bryce and I got to the ruins early to avoid the crowds, and spent about two hours exploring the grounds. The main thing this site is known for is the intricacy of the carvings, and the large sculptures which adorn many of the temples. There is a nice museum nearby which houses some of the most well intact pieces that have been excavated on the grounds.
There are many mounds of vegetation nearby which are clearly temples that have yet to be uncovered. Archeologists have also found several intact temples buried underneath the ones ones currently on display. These are largely inaccessible to the public, but they have created a full scale replica of one which is on display in the museum.
I´ll be leaving here tomorrow and heading to Gracias, Honduras to try to take a guided trek in a nearby national park. I´m not looking forward to another long day of travel, but alas, such is life.
The border crossing was fairly simple out of Belize, and only slightly more complicated into Guatamala.
I was instantly struck by how much more complex it will be to get around in Guatamala and Honduras. Frankly, my Spanish is terrible (read: nonexistant), and not many people here speak English. Luckily for me there were two girls, one German, one Argentinian, both who spoke Spanish, that were taking the same route as me. They helped me through the process and were quite patient (and amused) by my pathetic attempts to communicate with the locals.
Another thing that´s going to make it awfully tough traveling here, is that there is a huge banking crises right now in Guatamala. Apparently two of the largest banks in the country have gone bust, and everyone is (understandably) panicking and pulling their money out of the banks. This means that none of the ATMs have any cash in them. The only way to get money here right now, is to go into the bank and actually withdraw it through a teller. A far more complicated process than just pushing a few buttons at the ATM. Oh well, this is not an insurmountable problem, and these kinds of experiences make travel memorable as well, right?
The town I first came into in Guatamala was Puerto Barrios. Border towns are generally unpleasant round the world, and Puerto Barrios should consider changing it´s slogan to something like: Puerto Barrios, a great place to change your bus!
Entering Guatamala one immediately notices one thing: guns. There are lots and lots of guns here. So many in fact, that the immigration office has a sign out front requesting that people please not bring there handguns inside. Businesses all have armed security standing watch outiside, and one can instantly tell how much money the business makes by what kind of weapons the security outside are holding. Furniture and electronics store guards generally hold large menacing shotguns, whereas banks are guarded by smiling, helpful locals holding large semi-automatic rifles. I didn´t see any guards at the mini-marts or liquor stores, but I believe the owners wear jackets in this heat for a reason.
I tagged along with the two girls I´d met (Jessica and Maria), and they helped me withdraw money, and get our ferry tickets to the final destination of the day: Livingston, Guatamala. Livingston is a town which can only be reached by boat. It feels largely more Belizean than Guatamalen due to the enourmous Garifuna population who have made it their home. The sunset was beautiful as the boat appoached Livingston, and by the time we reached the port, the sun had set, giving the town a cool, distinctly Carribean feel. Many of the buildings were of a French colonial style and the main road was lined with shops and restaurants catering to travelers of all different budgets. Livingston, I presume, is a tourist trap. As these sorts of places become more set up for travel, the line between them and their Dineylworld doppleganger becomes increasingly blurred. Which, I suppose is why I ended up staying at the Hotel California.
Welcome to the Hotel California
The Hotel California is not a lovely place, it´s a flop house. But at $8US dollars a night including a private bath, it´s within my budget, and would have to do. Jessica and Maria went off to eat dinner, and I went to my room to take a shower and sort out laundry. I got the impression that I may have worn out my welcome with my two new aquaintences, and so I kept my distance from them for the remainder of my time in Livingston.
After I felt refreshed, I headed out to eat and ran into Richard and Eama, the British couple I´d left behind that morning in Placencia. They had left several hours after I did, and arrived just after me. Their connections apparently working out a tad bit more smoothly than mine. I joined them for dinner, and we all signed up to take a walking tour of the town in morning.
The walking tour the next day was exactly what I needed. A opportunity to get some excercise, see the town, and meet some other travelers. The tour was led by Francis and Eddie, two charming local Garifuna who kept me laughing throughout the day. While I can´t say the tour was especially informative, it made it a whole lot easier to have someone who knew how to get around to guide us.
Our tour took us to a local Catholic church, a colorfully painted cemetary, and then to a beautiful lookout point above the city. From the lookout we could see the ocean, and far away in the distance, the edges of both Belize and Guatamala. A bit of a Golden Traingle within Central America.
We hiked down to a boat landing where we took a canoe down to the beach. The beach wasn´t all that nice, but after hiking all day in the hot sun, a dip in the ocean was definitely in order. Next we hiked down the beach and then up to our final destination of the Seven Alters. The Seven Alters is a series of freshwater pools, which is fed by a small waterfall at the top. The pool at the top is shallow around the edges with a rather steep and immediate drop off. Since I´m not all that strong of a swimmer I stuck mostly to the edges, splashing around and cooling of again.
Later that night, I went to see some live Garifuna music at a local bar. Garifuna music is largely percussive, and similar in many ways to African music. The setup was several drums, turtle shells, a conch shell, and call and response vocals. The band played a short, energrentic set, and afterwards I headed back to my hotel for some sleep.
Dulce de Liche
The next morning Richard, Eama, and I all took a small boat out to Rio Dulce, a small town on the main land of Guatamala. The cruise itself is really the attraction here as the river is surrounded by beautiful jungle, mountains, and cliffs. We stopped along the way to see some caves, and a natural hot springs, arriving at the town of Rio Dulce in the early afternoon.
After finding a hotel, I walked down to the water and sat watching some local kids fishing. The evening was mostly spent sitting outside the hotel on patio trading rounds of beers and conversing with Richard Eama. This would be our last night of traveling together as in the morning I was to head for Honduras, as they headed further into Guatamala.
Bananna Republic
The next day was largely taken up by a long bus ride from Rio Dulce to the border of Honduras. I was joined on the bus by a travler from New Zealand named Bryce. An electrician by trade, Bryce was currently on a year long trip through South and Central America. This was not his first extended vacation, as he apparently alternates about a year to a year and a half of working and saving money, with nine to twelve months of travel.
The border crossing intoHonduras was largely uneventful, and once we´d arived at our destination of Copanas Ruinas, I was happy to see that the cash machines were working. No banking crises in Honduras. Bryce and I decided to share a double room at a hotel to save some money, and after finding accomodations had a nice dinner of chicken and rice.
the $25,000 Pyramid
The big reason travelers come to Copan Ruinas is to see the Mayan ruins of Copan, which are about one kilometer outside the city. The site itself is lovely, surrounded by lush tropical forest, and filled with colorful birds(including parrots). Bryce and I got to the ruins early to avoid the crowds, and spent about two hours exploring the grounds. The main thing this site is known for is the intricacy of the carvings, and the large sculptures which adorn many of the temples. There is a nice museum nearby which houses some of the most well intact pieces that have been excavated on the grounds.
There are many mounds of vegetation nearby which are clearly temples that have yet to be uncovered. Archeologists have also found several intact temples buried underneath the ones ones currently on display. These are largely inaccessible to the public, but they have created a full scale replica of one which is on display in the museum.
I´ll be leaving here tomorrow and heading to Gracias, Honduras to try to take a guided trek in a nearby national park. I´m not looking forward to another long day of travel, but alas, such is life.
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