Apologies for the delay with my writing- had a pretty busy few days and came down with some kind of sickness bug, which wasn't fun. Probably some kind of bad karma after feigning sea-sickness on the boat in Caye Caulker...
Flores was ridiculously hot, but very sociable. I met a few Brits, bumped into some people from previous stops and we all bonded by lying around in pools of sweat looking similarly dazed and moist. The back-packer world in Guatemala seems to be a fairly small one, or perhaps the route I'm doing is the most logical one and so the same groups of people tend to leap-frog each other along the way. It's quite nice, really. Like we're all part of the same nomadic tribe.
The first full day I was in Flores, a large group from the hostel decided to hire a boat to take us across the lake to the "beach", for a much- needed swim. Our boat-man was awesome, taking us first to the shop for beer and bringing us a bucket from his own house to fill with ice and keep them cold. What's more... his name was Pedro! The first real Pedro I've met. Unfortunately not Mexican, but still a stereotypical Pedro. It was destined to be a good day.
The lake water was so warm it was hardly refreshing, and I most probably picked up something dodgy from it, but the sunset over the lake was impressive. I'm itching to upload photos but it will take an age on any computer I find around here.
Awesome on a completely different scale: at 4am the next morning I got up to go to the Tikal Mayan pyramids. The area is absolutely huge, with settlements dating back to 700BC (!), set in the middle of a very active rainforest. Hiking into the site, we saw Spider Monkeys, Howler Monkeys and various giant guinea-pig looking things. Apparently the site was used to film Jurassic Park, and the Howler monkeys' growls used as dinosaur sounds, which is a pretty funny thought, but the monkeys really are that loud!
Despite the heat, we climbed all the temples and pyramids we came across, including the largest one: temple IV, which is 212 feet high and taller than the low lying clouds. From there we could see the whole reserve, with temples popping out the top of the dense jungle. It certainly made up for Chichen Itza in Mexico, which I found to be horribly touristy and totally devoid of atmosphere (as much as I did enjoy watching a girl in a bikini top pose glamour-model style in front of all the ancient ruins).
I didn't get to see that much of Flores itself unfortunately (as small as it is) because I spent a lot of time stressing over some tasks I was sent towards my MA application. Trying to make sense of old Belizian newspapers in the 40 degree heat nearly drove me insane, but I eventually sent them off with the help of happy hour margeritas and can now forget all about it until my interviews.
My next stop was Lanquin: eight hours south in more jungly mountains. The bus journey actually took ten hours in the end, but I really enjoyed it. I quite like long journeys anyway- as long as they aren't as hot and smelly like the ride from Belize City. I can completely zone out into my own little world. It had been raining so it was cooler, and the scenery was incredible- Guatemala is such a well-kept secret. Every now and then however, we'd pass a line of houses and there would be piles of rubbish just at the side of the road. Two young local girls on the bus kept throwing all their sweet wrappers out of the window and it made me want to punch them. Maybe the next generation will travel further, realise how lucky Guatemala is and encourage some better conservation mentality.
We passed through dense rainforest, mountain-side coffee plantations, lakes (which involved taking a tiny, hand-powered ferry-boat) and several little towns with people in all the traditional Guatemalan dresses and men with machetes in their belts. We stopped in one town for half an hour or so, and I found a small market where locals were eating some barbequed beef and rice. I sat and joined them, the entire time being intensely stared at while I ate my lunch, but they seemed happy enough with my company.
Lanquin itself is tiny: a little mountain side village with no ATM or Wifi (shock horror). I stayed in a place called the Zephyr lodge, up the mountain a little, which was nice but not so cheap. The main reason why backpackers come to Lanquin is for the natural caves and fresh-water pools at Semuc Champey. Almost everybody had done or were planning to do a candle-lit tour of the caves, which I'm sure was incredible, but I hummed and harrd over whether to go, because I get so chlaustrophobic and hate the idea of being underground in a cave... but then again I didn't want to feel as if I'd missed out. Later I bumped into a British guy who was the first person I'd met who told me with endearing British honesty that squeezing through cold caves in a swimming costume was one of those things which is impressive afterwards, but actually really horrible at the time. I also bumped into some girls who I'd seen in Caye Caulker and Flores who were planning on just going to the freshwater pools and skipping the caves, so I tagged along and felt a lot better about it all.
To get up the mountain, we decided to get a "taxi"- cheaper than going with a tour bus. But the local taxis are actually just whoever happens to have a pick-up truck. Locals hail these trucks from the street corners and cram into the back, standing up all the way up and down the mountain. My mother would have had a fit.
What we didn't realise was that we'd actually end up climbing up the whole bloody mountain anyway. It was (probably) worth it for the view, but locals and park employees laughed at us a lot for struggling, while they probably climb up and down several times a day. It's hard to describe the actual Semuc Champey pools- I'll have to upload the photo asap. Basically there are little waterfalls which have cut into the limestone to create bright green freshwater pools. They're very pretty from above, and we swam in them along with those little fish that eat the dead skin off your feet. I can safely say I will not be paying to have my feet nibbled at when I'm back home- it hurts!
I was planning on staying in Lanquin for three nights, but the rush was on to get to Antigua before Easter weekend, and my friend Herrmann-ze-German from Flores had managed to find us both a hostel dorm from the Thursday night. We also suspected that there were bedbugs in the Zephyr Lodge... so early on Thursday morning I hopped back on the bus to Antigua- eight hours this time and not so comfortable, but sociable enough because most of the same people were heading that way for the Easter parades. Our baggage was tied onto the top of the bus but somehow made it all the way, despite the road being horrendous.
And here I am in Antigua! It's pretty packed and I am sleeping in a hostel's loft which has 30 beds and resembles a refugee camp. I'm a little sad that I'll be missing out on my family's Easter lunch and that I have no Easter eggs (!) but then again I am in a pretty cool town. It's quite medieval looking, nestled inbetween three volcanoes, and there are men in purple robes and KKK-style hats everywhere, getting well excited over Jesus' death. There are also quadruple shots of tequila on offer for about a pound. Perfect.
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