Honduras: Back on the Road

After leaving the school we caught a bus up to Panajachel on Lake Atitlan. It's not very far as the crow flies, but twisting around the mountain roads and navigating several traffic jams meant it took nearly 5 hours. By the time we arrived I had a lungfull of exhaust fumes. Fortunately a stroll down to the lake shore cleared me out. The beautiful view from Panajachel, towards 3 volcanoes on the opposite shores, is well worth the effort. 

We spent two nights there, just strolling by the lake and taking the opportunity to eat in restaurants again, the prices far more reasonable than in Antigua. We found an unusual restaurant which served a curious blend of Mayan and Chinese recipes, whilst seated on bamboo benches under a plethora of hanging baskets. The bed (complete with it's very own old Chinese lady) in the corner resembled the scene with the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And the food was delicious, healthy and cheap, not an easy combination to find on the road. 

The main road is littered with craft stalls, all selling the same brightly woven fabrics, hammocks and jewellery. But there isn't a great deal to do in Panajachel apart from trying to avoid the ticket touts. At every step you are asked where you want to go to. Despite the proliferation of large hotels, it would appear as though the only reason to come to Panajachel is to leave it by boat.

Just to be contrary we left it by bus, returning to Antigua for the night. We stayed in a different hostel, on the opposite side of town, in the hope that we might find hot water showers. And this time we struck gold. It's very rare to discover a hostel that I struggle to write anything bad about, but Casa Jacaranda was just that. We had two beds in the room, one hard (for me) and one soft (for Gemma), warm showers, good internet, cable tv, a garden with hammocks and the best free hostal breakfast I think we've found so far (spinach and mozzarella omelette with rosemary potatoes and frijoles, coffee, fruit juice and a bowl of melon - and that was just one of the 3 options). 

Unfortunately we had planned to leave the following day, so we finished a few last minute chores and walked around Antigua checking out the travel agents for prices to Honduras. As so often happens, we eventually booked through one agency, walked around the corner and found the same journey advertised cheaper. We've both noticed how our perspective on finance has changed, and finding something for a few dollars cheaper has assumed a greater importance. 

Nevertheless the following day we set off on the long drive to Copan Ruinas. The planned 7 hours looked a distant prospect when we hit an almighty traffic jam in Guatemala City, but once we were through the worst of it the driver clawed back some time by overtaking on corners and unsighted hills, and driving on the wrong side of the road to skip roadworks. When we finally arrived at the border, alive but with hairs on end, it was dark. The Guatemalan border guard extracted a $2 fee from everyone ahead of us (refusing their requests for a receipt) but had run out of change by the time we flashed our passports at him. 

We walked across to the Honduran side. This time there was no escaping the border fee, but at least it was legitimate and we were given receipts without having to ask. We climbed back aboard the bus and continued on for about 10 minutes more until we reached Copan Ruinas. The driver refused to take everyone to their hostels, preferring to park up outside his commission based hotel, but our hostel owner turned up in his 4x4 to take us to our beds.

The following day we went for a wander around the new town in the new country. We found the central square easily enough, a fairly ugly modern concrete area. The towns museum was closed for remodelling, and the photograph gallery (a gift from a top US University) was also shut, for undetectable reasons. We took a walk up to the castle, but not only was this shut, it wasn't even a castle. Anyone familiar with the clubhouse of the golf course in Newquay can easily picture what this looked like.

We dug out the town map and discovered a butterfly farm on the outskirts, so we walked across town, past the colourful cemetery, and across the main road. In keeping with our day's success it was also shut, so we had a drink in a small roadside cafe next door. Fortunately we spotted the owner of the butterfly farm returning, so we hopped over and followed her through the gate, 

We handed over a small fee, 100 Lempira (about £3) and went inside the office. Here the owner showed us butterflies of different breeds in several stages of life (and death, in the case of the macabre collection of beautiful but deceased butterflies). There were some pupae which looked like delicate little silver earrings. Even with our small amount of Spanish we managed to pick up several verbs which made a huge difference to understanding what was happening with the caterpillars and pupae. 

After the brief explanation we were led out to the butterfly house, a netted area encompassing a large garden. Apparently this was once full of rare orchids, but even without green fingers I could tell they weren't there. Fortunately however we did discover some stunning varieties of butterfly. Some had vivid fluorescent yellow streaks across their black wings, others had terracotta coloured patterns, but by far the most impressive were the creatures with bright turquoise wings on oneside and interpretations of owls eyes on the other, the Blue Morpho. 

In fact there were different varieties of this type, some with the single eye, and others with several eyes. It took quite a lot of effort to get some photographs, partially because they move around in such a carefree fashion, and partly because they kept landing on me when I was lining up a shot! We even saw one of these beautiful insects feeding off a rotten banana. 

The following day we decided to visit our third Maya site. The map suggested it was a 1km walk from town, but it didn't say what a pleasant walk that would be. Crossing a small stream you follow the contour of the road on a well constructed pathway - evidently many other tourists opt to walk it too. Past meadows full of grazing cattle and the occasional roadside stellae (original) and gift-shop, you could quite easily walk past the site were it not for the calls of the local tuk-tuk drivers waiting for a fare in the car park. 

We bought our tickets (£10 each) and followed the path down towards the Grand Plaza. The roadside was lined with Macaws and their cages, and a large number of tourists were queuing up for photos with these beautiful birds. I guess after working for just a few days at Arcas I couldn't really get excited about seeing this, so I walked past in a huff. 

When the path opened up into the grand plaza, my initial impression was vastly underwhelming. There was a tiny little pyramid in the centre and a few stellae off to one side. But I'm pleased to say that on closer inspection the stellae were the most beautiful, detailed ones we had seen so far. Some still had a crust of the red paint which would have adorned them originally, and as the plaza floor would have been painted white you can imagine how impressive these must have looked more than a thousand years ago.

We followed the suggested route which took us around the back of a hill, covered in foliage but with a distinctly man-made shape, hinting at another pyramid to be excavated, and returned back out at the other side of the grand plaza near the ball court. We climbed up some rocks for a good view of this impressive structure, which is considered one of the best preserved ball courts in Mayan sites. Although the sides weren't as steep as we had seen before, they were adorned with huge Macaw heads.

While we were stood admiring the Macaws we noticed a large temple which was partially covered by an enormous canvas. We clambered over to see what was being hidden and were amazed to discover a huge staircase full of statues. Gradually, as our eyes began to focus in the darkness, we noticed that into each step had been carved a heiroglpyh. A small sign indicated that these hieroglyphs told the history of the imaginatively named rulers of Copan from Great-Sun First Quetzal Macaw, past Waterlilly-Jaguar and 18 Rabbit to Smoke Squirrel. 

The staircase was truly stunning, every time you moved your eyes something new and wonderful seemed to appear before them, the level of effort that must have gone into it was admirable. Even noticing that the occasional step was missing didn't take away from it's beauty, you can't expect every heiroglpyh to have survived for so long. 

Unfortunately the rest of the site was hard pressed to impress as this much again. We strolled around climbing over temples and palaces finding more and more carvings (the one which looked like a mouse on steroids was apparently a mythical jaguar god), but we soon reached the end of our tether for Mayan sites. The sun burning us to a crisp and the humidity making the most casual stroll feel like a run up a sand dune, we decided to call it a day and made our way back to the entrance for a reviving drink. 

Sat in the restaurant Gemma recalled being told about a recreation of one of the burial tombs in the museum, so we walked over to the museum and found we needed a separate ticket for that. In frustration I sat on the stone seat while Gemma went back to the site entrance for our tickets. The security guard found it hilarious that I had dumped myself down while Gemma went back, his laughter didn't stop until she returned. 

Inside the museum, following a twisting tunnel (a recreation of one of many that the archaeologists made inside the real temples) the museum suddenly opens up before your eyes, to reveal a mock up of one of the tombs found inside the main temple. This recreation has been painted in the original colours, mostly bright red but with greens, yellows and whites decorating the exterior carvings. Whilst it was interesting to see how the buildings would have been painted in their original state, if felt a little like a Disney version of a Mayan temple. 

Far more impressive for me were the more delicate stone carvings which had been removed from the site for safekeeping and now resided inside the museum. These ranged from a huge bat with wings spread open, to a man wearing a bird hat (the bird eating a fish, surrounded by cascading waters). Animals, and indeed nature in general, were massively important to the Maya people, as can be seen by some of the rulers names which I mentioned earlier. 

After visiting the museum we walked back into town, packed up our bags and moved into a hotel for a night, after a somewhat aggressive confrontation with a hostel guest who refused to turn his music down. This ageing old hippie, who preached love for his "brothers" and ranted at the commercialisation of the world failed to appreciate that his "brothers" might not enjoy Whitney Houston at full volume at 8am, or see the contradiction in completely taking over the common space with his eclectic assortment of electric appliances (waffle iron, sandwich toaster, smoothie maker) to the point that no-one else could sit down. 

We felt immediately more comfortable with our new surroundings, and returned to our favourite cafe for dinner. Via Via was a lovely place to eat and waste some time, and the food was excellent and cheap (my favourite combination). Unfortunately we had to put ourselves to bed, due to a very early start. Just before bedtime Gemma gave me a birthday present, a lovely little chessboard featuring two teams of Conquistadors and Mayans, which I had been admiring in a local shop earlier in the evening. 

By 5.30am (not a great time to start your birthday) we were waiting outside the bus station, and half an hour later we set off towards San Pedro Sula. The drive was boring, a little bumpy, and punctuated by awful pop music played over the loudspeaker system, so we were relieved to reach San Pedro at 10am. We were immediately swamped by taxi drivers, somewhat overwhelmingly, and decided to book our onwards ticket straight away. Unfortunately the bus to Nicaragua was full for a few days, so we had to settle for a ticket on Christmas Eve, a 12 hour drive to look forward to!

After a quick coffee we found the driver who had held a door open for us earlier and got into a taxi he recommended. It was a short drive to our hostel, located in one of the safer neighbourhoods, although still not advisable to go out out after dark without a taxi. In the evening we went to Denny's for a birthday dinner, and since then we have just hung around the hostel, taking the occasional daytime walk to see not much in particular. There isn't a great deal to do in San Pedro, and we are trying not to withdraw more money as we will be in Nicaragua soon enough. 

So, on Christmas eve while everyone in settling down with a drink and some tv, we'll be trying to sleep on the Tica Bus and crossing another border before checking into a nice hotel in Managua (with a swimming pool) and hoping to find something resembling a turkey! Right now I'd settle for a Bernard Mathews Turkey Drummer. Until then we'd like to wish everyone at home a very merry Christmas indeed. We'll think of you as we dive into the pool!

Guatemala & Belize: Gemma's Thoughts

On our last night in Guatemala I thought it is time to reflect a little on our adventures here. We have been here for over a month, although we popped over to Belize for a few days where we went straight to the islands and stayed on Caye Caulker, one of the highlights of the trip so far. Quite possibly the most beautiful place I have ever been and certainly idyllic with white sands, turquoise ocean and a laid back lifestyle.

I went snorkelling (whilst Darren spent the day on the internet and in a hammock - both of us equally happy!) I set off at 10am with a sun-kissed wrinkly old skipper called Juni who lived a simple yet envious life in a little wooden house on the beach and had spent the last 30 years taking the odd tourist or two out onto the reef in small groups (no more than 6 at a time) in a boat that he had built himself.

Juni seemed hugely respectful of life, and I couldn't help but respect him back. He didn't talk very much, but his eyes sparkled with a thousand stories and I couldn't wait to get out on the water with him. I looked forward to the challenge of getting him to recount some of his tales but it was harder than I thought! He was a wise man, and wise men know to listen more than speak!

We made two stops on the reef and as we motored to the first I made small talk with the three other tourists on board and wiped the spray of my sunglasses. Every so often we would hit the water as a large wave swelled, slicing it in two and causing the top half to come crashing over the side soaking me and the girl I was sat next to. Juni sat at the stern, giggling silently. I think he planned it so that every time I wiped my sunglasses I got a fresh soaking immediately after! I caught his eye and we shared the joke.

At the first stop I donned my snorkel, mask and flippers and sat on the side of the boat staring into the water as several foot long fish circled below me. Several doubts filled my head and it took a few deep breaths before I was ready to jump in.

After the bubbles cleared from my not so graceful plunge, I saw 20 to 30 large silver fish with yellow tails swimming around me. They looked like small tuna fish but were actually called jacks. They surrounded me as though I was one of the shoal and stayed with us for the entire swim (about an hour and a half). Although always within arms reach, they were impossible to touch as they always moved before your hand got to them! I have know idea how we did not have any contact because they were so close, but any skill here was purely theirs!

I swam with them in awe of my surroundings as the others jumped in too. We all had a practice swim to check that our masks didn't leek. Mine worked fine, but I didn't drift too far from the boat and was enjoying the curiosity of the jacks when I looked down and saw a sting ray skimming across the bottom of the ocean just a couple of metres below. Instinctively, my head shot up out of the water, but after another deep breath I was back down again only to notice a small shark, around two foot long, casually swimming past me a metre or so away! I spun around (if that is possible under water) and was making a vague effort to close up to the boat when I saw the bigger brother, a two metre long shark gliding between me and the safety of the boat! Argh! What was I doing?!

Juni was the last to jump in and immediately all the fish darted towards him like he was some sort of fish magnet! He rubbed his hands together in a way that the fish understood, he was actually communicating with them and they loved it! Fish after fish queued up and pushed each other out of the way for a chance to be close to him and some even came in for a cuddle!

Juni had his favourites, in particular a green congar eel that danced through his hands after being coaxed out of it's hiding place and a giant sting ray that swam up for cuddle after cuddle. I stroked her too, and she swam over me as I laid on my back in the water. Her skin was amazingly soft yet so strong. Juni and her had been playing together for 30 years, can you imagine having such a relationship? She is so big now that Juni struggled to lift her and I think she enjoys her dominance in the water.

Over the two swims I saw thousands of fish, tiny blue ones with dots that looked like little mirror balls at a disco hiding in the coral to great shoals of large shiny silver fish all fighting to stay swimming in the same direction. I also saw several nurse sharks that were bigger than me, rays, eels, a lobster and a turtle feeding on the small plants on the sea bed - my personal favourite.

The wind had picked up by the time we reboarded the boat and we sailed back to the island as we munched on meat pies and fresh fruit, and drank sweet milky coffee from a thermos flask. My lips had wrinkled up like an old prune from the salt water so the coffee was soothing as well as warming. 

On the way back I managed to get Juni talking about his family and life on the island. He was funny and sensitive, and I loved listening to him just as much as the snorkelling. He got out his photo album and I was expecting to see his kids, but they were all pictures of fish, him swimming with them and cuddling them!

I had a little go at steering the boat before we arrived back safely in the late afternoon. We each got a big hug from Juni and I thanked him for the experience before heading off up the beach with a big smile on my face bursting with things to tell Darren.

After five days in paradise, we caught the boat back to the main land and bused it back to Flores, Guatemala - our third visit to this beautiful island town. Overall, I have really enjoyed my time in Guatemala, apart from the small hiccup of having our bank cards cloned which caused us quite a bit of stress and frustration during the umpteen phone calls to the bank.

When our new bank cards arrived (thanks Mum) we treated ourselves to a fancy cake. We had been cooking simple meals in an effort to retain cash so I was really looking forward to it. Darren chose a cheesecake, you can't go far wrong there, and I opted for a cake called elote. It sounded yummy and looked even better with shortcrust pastry, a coconut topping and caramel - some of my favourite favours! We returned to our apartment carrying our cakes very carefully along the cobbled and uneven paths. We bumped into our neighbours, the owners of the school, who translated for me. Apparently, elote means sweetcorn! I had bought a bloody corn cake! I can't begin to express my disappointment to you here! Darren thought it was hilarious, but he obviously loves me because he shared his cheesecake!

We have experienced a lot in Guatemala, but only seen a little. This is because we have mainly been in one of two places, Flores or Antigua. It has been different from the rest of our travels because we have settled in these places and used them as bases to work, learn, and visit other places for a couple of nights before returning 'home'. We have made friends and got to know the towns quite well, we even have some favourite restaurants and haunts.

I loved Flores for its beauty, charm, and friendliness, and despite being robbed there, it will always be one of my favourite destinations. It is a small island, full of colourful houses and cobbled streets, connected by a causeway to the mainland. You feel a sense of adventure by being isolated, but safe in the knowledge that you can return to the familiar shopping malls and chain restaurants on the other side of the causeway. If you ever visit, I strongly recommend strawberry and banana smoothies at San Telmo, tuk-tuk rides and boat trips.

Antigua is different, much larger and older, but has much of the same charm and friendliness. This historic town has remained unchanged for years and has a ban on advertising so the lack of plastic signs and neon lights combined with cobbled streets and old churches really makes you feel like you have stepped back in time. For me, the most beautiful sight was Volcano Agua looming at the end of the street, surrounded by mist, every time we went home.

One thing that I have been quite surprised about is the amount of money here. Antigua in particular seems to be a wealthy town full of cake shops, restaurants, boutiques and well dressed people driving shiny new 4x4s. It is not until you travel away from the tourist hotspots that you see the real poverty here.

On our journey to Lake Atitlan we saw women and children lining the road. All the children were waving so I began waving back. It seemed very sweet. After a while I saw a young girl, sitting on her own, holding her shoulder but still waving even though she had a pained look on her face. I realised that this is what they do day in day out in a vague hope that someone might stop. I'm not sure why you would stop, very few had anything for sale. It seemed a desperate and hopeless life to me. I stopped waving after that.

Panajachel, the town built up by the lake, was very different from the tourist towns we have already visited. Run down and crowded, but still with a certain charm, vendors packed the streets and competition was fierce. We weren't really interested in buying anything (we have too much to carry as it is!) so most people only asked once. I saw other tourists swamped by people after showing the tiniest bit of interest in a souvenir and decided that wasn't for me. 

Women offered me scarves, "good price, five" they would say. As I walked on I would hear "two for five" then "three for five" but I really didn't want them, even if they were only US$5. On our last evening there we chatted to an English girl in our hostel. She told me that the women weren't asking for dollars but quetzals! 5Q! That is about 45p! I felt so guilty for not buying them that I vowed to purchase the next half decent one that I saw. Only, as it was our last evening and all the vendors had gone home, I never got the chance.

Our next step is into Honduras, a new country. We haven't crossed a border in a while and I wonder how different it will be and what lies ahead of us.

Back to School

The night after we last posted an update we were sat on our balcony going over a little Spanish homework when I looked into the sky and noticed a dim red glow in the heavens. Volcan Fuego was finally living up to it's name - spitting out a little lava for us to marvel at. It wasn't the most impressive of eruptions, fortunately for us - I didn't fancy trying to outrun the next Krakatoa, but despite being more of a hiccup than an explosion it was still wonderful to a actually see a volcano go off.

We had made some plans for the weekend, to check out some ruined churches, a museum or two, to restock our cupboards with food from the market, and to watch the town's Christmas lights get turned on. Unfortunately by 6pm on Saturday evening I was back in bed, where I stayed for much of the weekend. Gemma managed to buy a thermometer from the chemists, it didn't show I had a temperature but something was definitely wrong, I just didn't want to eat and had no energy. So the weekend was a bit of a washout.

We returned back to school on Monday ready for a full week of lessons. In truth, after spending so many hours learning, and then doing our homework we have found it pretty tough to get enthusiastic about running around town. Instead we've been having a more leisurely time, shopping and cooking, and of course watching some Spanish tv. Unfortunately we don't have a sofa in the apartment, so when we are not sat on the balcony we find ourselves taking it in turns to rest our weary buttocks on the single beanbag.

On Wednesday we finished our lessons ten minutes early, so that we could dash to the calle de la concepion in time for a festival. The Quema Del Diablo (burning of the devil) is an unusual one. Lore of old suggests that in years gone past people believed that the devil would live in people's rubbish and cause mischief to all the members of that household. So each year, on the 7th December, they would gather up all the rubbish and unused wood and have a bonfire. Over time, physical manifestations of the devil were added to the bonfire, resulting in "the burning of the devil".

In Antigua some bright spark (you've got to love a pun) decided it would be a great idea build a petrol station on either side of the Calle de la Concepion, so that these days the bonfire is flanked huge quantities of gasoline, which certainly adds a little extra spice to proceedings. And to think that in England we can't even use our mobile phones at our BP garages!

By 6pm the crowds were gathering, packing out the street. We made our way past tourists and locals alike, decked out in flashing devil horns, and the inevitable food stalls. There wasn't much room to extract my camera from my pocket, but I managed to fire off a few snaps as someone set alight to the devil. The local volunteer firefighters looked on with bemusement, but really it felt like an anti-climax, no-one seemed to know what was happening, and within minutes the crowds began drifting away. Which was unfortunate because about 4 hours later a band started playing.

We got caught up in the flow of pedestrians, but managed to shuffle over to the food stalls to try out a few local delicacies. I ordered something which turned out to be a chicken sandwich, which was nice but didn't exactly strike me as "Mayan". We both tested a pork tortilla wrap, but couldn't really get to the condiments due to the crowd, so it would be unfair of me to describe it as bland. Finally Gemma had a couple of sweet dough balls, but by the time we got back to the apartment she was suffering from some stomach aches.

We continued our lessons all week, and have both picked up a lot more Spanish than we expected. My teacher Willy has been trying to drum some concept of grammar into this thick skull, with some success. I can recite the present tense of the regular verbs fairly easily, and both past and future tenses with a little more thought. My biggest problem seems to be picking out the right verb at the right time - once I recall the right one I can check off the endings ok. I certainly find it much easier to read and write than listen and answer.

However, once we moved onto irregular verbs, and then exchangeable verbs the tears started. Even now I can feel myself welling up at the thought of having to conjugate more exchangeable verbs in tomorrows lesson. Fortunately Willy is a great teacher and we'll probably have a laugh when I start mumbling some GCSE French in the absence of the right Spanish word. Earlier today he asked me how many people were at the concert? I replied 300, and one bat. He looked confused until I explained it was an Ozzy Osbourne gig! Even in Spanish I can make crap jokes, how about that!

Before class one day we took a walk to the central square. It was a hot morning so we sat down in the shade for a spot of people watching. We observed as a huge influx of cruise ship passengers disembarked from their air conditioned coaches and began to wander around Antigua in their claustrophobic groups, complete with names badges on colour co-ordinated stickers. The sleepy little square became a hive of activity as the local tat-sellers rushed to find a buyer for their wares, which in Antigua consist of shiny but unpleasant jewelery; bright woven rugs and carved wooden flutes.

We sat and watched as the two parties did battle. We almost felt sorry for the cruisers, their armament seemed to consist primarily of beige shorts, white knee high sports socks and a religious belief in the strength of the US Dollar. Of course, that sympathy swiftly evaporated when I spotted one beige warrior walking up to anyone looking vaguely different and pointing his camera in their face without so much as a "would you mind if I ...".

Later in the day I was sat in our local internet cafe when I observed another of this clan attempting to check his e-mails. He grumbled when he opened the internet to find it took him to the yahoo webpage (rather than google), sulked when his wife told him he simply needed to change the address at the top, fumed when his wife didn't furnish him with his password ("but Henry, you only told me to bring the email address"), and finally combusted when the cafe owner told him they didn't accept US Dollars. I found myself wishing he caught fleas from his new brightly coloured rug and then choked on his new novelty flute.

We're beginning to have more opportunity to converse with the locals in their tongue. Just the other day one of the old women in the square came and sat with us. Initially she tried to sell us some jewelery but soon realised we weren't interested. However she remained sat and began asking us questions: where were we from; how long had we been in Guatemala; where were we going next. Amazingly we managed to answer them all in a way she understood. It felt like quite an achievement.

In fact, even when we don't know the right word for something we seem to be ble to work our way around to the point of being understood. I needed to buy a warm hat, it get's really cold here in the evenings, but I didn't know how to ask for "woolly hat" in Spanish. Initially we looked in a couple of tourist shops but the hats were too expensive, so we tried a local shop. "Yo necessito un sombrero porque yo tengo muy frio" had the desired effect, the shop assistant took us to the counter where she kept the woolly hats, and instead of forking out over a hundred Quetzals for a western branded hat, I bought a hand made hat for 18 Quetzals.

We have one day of school left before we bid farewell to Antigua. We've decided to head to Lake Atitlan for a few days before we leave Guatemala and cross the border into Honduras. If we time it right we might just get to spent my birthday climbing amongst the ruins of Copan, another interesting Mayan site, before we continue our path through Central America.

Back to Guatemala

We spent an extra night in Caye Caulker, loving the seafood and the beachfront location. It's not often we can afford to eat Lobster at the best of times, but especially not on a backpackers budget. However at Wish Willy's, an informal picnic table and BBQ joint, we could have two Lobster tails plus trimmings for £7, and at Syd's (the locals favorite) a homemade lobster burger cost Less than a regular McDonalds in London. All eaten within sight of the clearest turquoise sea.

Gemma enjoyed her day of snorkeling, and I enjoyed having a day dozing in the hammock. It's an easy life in Caye Caulker, but unfortunately the time came when we had to get back on the road. We got up early one Morning to catch the 7.30am boat back to Belize City, and from there we caught a bus back to Flores. The return voyage was less eventful than before and by 3pm we were safely back in Flores.

We trawled the various travel agencies for a bus to Antigua, and eventually decided against the cheapest option - figuring that for an overnight bus we would prefer a bit more comfort. We returned to previous haunts, bumped into a few old faces and made plans to watch the grand prix qualifying the following day. Unfortunately when we woke up the following day we discovered we had been the victims of another robbery!

During our previous time in Flores there had been a period when all the cashpoints had failed. We had tried to withdraw cash to pay for our trip to Tikal and our bus to Belize and had tried to use 3 of our 4 cards. All three were cloned, and had suffered several different withdrawals. Fortunately as we had been in Belize during the time they were used, and had the passport stamps to prove so, we have been able to claim back the funds from our banks. But being our second robbery in a few weeks it had a very negative effect on our moods.

We jumped on a minibus to the Santa Elena bus station and boarded a large double decker to Guatemala City. The seats were surprisingly huge, and the roads pleasingly well maintained, but the bus was freezing! We'd been warned about the cold buses ever since we entered Mexico, and every time it had been an exaggeration, but this time it proved true. And I was in shorts. Bugger.

By the time we arrived in Guatemala City we were both frozen solid. The bus raced through the deserted streets, refusing to stop for smaller vehicles or red lights. The streets were deserted at this time in the morning, so I couldn't figure out whether we were rushing out of concerns for our safety or because the driver needed the bathroom. Either way, from our view at the front of the upper deck it felt desperately unsafe.

Residents of Preston will be delighted to learn that I have discovered a worse bus station than theirs (I once had the misfortune to have to wait for three hours for a connection in the early hours). Guatemala City station was genuinely awful, I was convinced we were the only people not carrying a personal arsenal of serious weaponry, so I was delighted to be bundled onto our connection within minutes of arrival, despite desperately needing a bathroom.

We drove out of the city, and I can only say that if anything it looked progressively worse. Fortunately we were soon out of the worst of it and making our way around the hilly countryside towards Antigua. Only about 30 miles apart, the two cities are a world away from each other in style and atmosphere. Where Guatemala City felt frenetic and dangerous Antigua feels tranquil and safe. The minibus ignored our pleas to be dropped near our hostel, instead proceeding to drop us at an affiliated hostel. On the pretence that we were interested I finally made it to the bathroom, before swiftly departing.

We picked up our bags and made our way slowly through deserted cobblestone streets, past ruined churches and colourful shops. Our hostel was easy to find, the city centre works on a grid system, although there is a lack of signage protruding out onto the street - something for which the leaders of Antigua should be congratulated. If they can protect their towns integrity by refusing the likes of McDonald's or Subway the right to put up bright tacky neon signs which hang out over the street, you have to question why the UK can't do more.

We checked into our hostel and promptly went back to sleep, this time in comfy warm beds. Normally I feel the urge to rush around a new city like a headless chicken, but we were both so tired and annoyed that we couldn't rustle up the enthusiasm for a wander. When we did eventually rise we discovered that our hostel had a fantastic kitchen, and a dining table - what a treat. In fact, partially as a result of circumstances we haven't yet spent much money eating out, preferring to shop at the market for vegetables and the supermarket for staples. It's been quite a nice change to cook for ourselves.

We had to spend our first day dealing with more serious matters however, spending several hours on the phone (thank God for Skype) with our banks. They have been quite good so far, returning the money taken from my current account without question, and putting the money back into my credit card account and Gemma's bank account on the condition that we complete a legal form to indicate which transactions we did not make. Despite the banks being helpful, it has been a very stressful time, it's not easy to sort these things out when you are so far from home. Fortunately my mother was able to send us some money by Western Union to keep up afloat for a while.

While we weren't busy on the phones we walked around town, checking out the options for language schools. We've been in Spanish speaking countries for several weeks, and although we are picking up new words every day, we both felt we'd benefit from more structured learning. We walked into one school, La Union, which was just down down the road from our hostel, and both knew right away it was a good place. The security guard on the door welcomed us like long lost friends, and took us through the garden to the office. Ervin, a staff member, sat us down and spoke to us in Spanish about the school - we were both surprised at how much we could understand - although he was speaking slowly for our benefit. Then Leidi gave us more information in English before taking us upon a tour of the school - and their beautiful apartment which was available for rent. We said we would have a talk and decide, but walking away from the school we knew we didn't have to look at any more options!

To celebrate our success we decided to cook a nice meal, an as Gemma had cooked the previous two nights I volunteered. When Ben and Steff, an English couple in our hostel, heard that we were planning to make an Asparagus soup they suggested joining us and providing the bread and wine. Before I knew it I was cooking a dinner party! Whereas Gemma, a very good cook, has the ability to throw together a nice meal out of anything to hand, I have to be a bit more methodical - so I jumped on the internet and found a Jamie Oliver recipe for Asparagus soup with poached egg on toasted ciabatta!


We headed out to the supermarket and bought all the ingredients. On the walk back I suddenly realised we didn't have access to a blender. Despite the rather lumpy nature of the soup, it actually turned out rather well, and we had a nice evening in the hostel, eating, drinking and playing chess. Although I have to give Gemma most of the credit - grating most of the asparagus was a great idea in the circumstances - and for poaching the eggs, a job too delicate for my clumsy approach to cooking!

The following day we moved into the Spanish School, so our morning was spent packing and then unpacking. Fortunately we didn't have far to go, La Union is located on the same street as our hostel, a quiet area about 5 minutes away from the central square. We took our belongings across and for the first time in ages have been unable to unpack. The apartment can sleep up to five people, so for the two of us it's quite roomy, and we have a large balcony next to our bedroom with table and seats and a view of the three volcanoes which surround Antigua.

Our first two days of Spanish school were a lot of fun. I was assigned a teacher called Willy, fluent in English, French and Spanish. Every time I have racked my brains for the right word and ended up inserting a French word in error we've been able to have quite a laugh about it. I never thought I would describe going back to school as fun, but so far Willy has really made the experience "muy divertido". I have the concentration span of a gnat, so breaking up the lessons with a joke has really made the difference, and I'm a lot more confident with trying out a few words in a shop or on the street.

Gemma has also been enjoying her lessons, albeit without so much laughter. On her first day her teacher Carla took her on a chicken bus ride, and on her second day she returned from the market with three avocados. Both having private lessons is really paying off as we are learning different things. Gemma's lessons have been more practical whereas mine have focused more on the grammar. Soon we'll be the linguistic equivalent of Jack Sprat and his wife, licking the "plato" clean. And when you consider that we are paying just $95 each, it's really been worthwhile. 

The only downside to the last few days is that, after all the stress of sorting out new bank cards and refunds, we've both been feeling under the weather. Saturday night witnessed huge celebrations as the towns Christmas lights were turned on. Unfortunately we missed it as I was tucked up in bed by 6pm, aching and moaning. During the night some cad rang the church bells at unusual times (I fail to see what significance 9.34pm or 4.17am hold to the teachings of the Christian church - perhaps someone can enlighten me) so the one night we've desperately needed a good sleep has been interrupted continually. Gemma isn't feeling too bright either, so we are dosing up on Vitamin C and hoping to find a warm bar where we can watch the football later.

Meanwhile we are planning to stay at La Union for a second week - we've only had two days so far but can feel the difference already. We'll book in soon enough and hopefully the apartment will be available to stay in again. We've been promised that Volcano Fuego erupts at night, but we've not seen it go yet, only the occasional puff of smoke but no lava yet, so I'm going to take a blanket out onto the balcony and wait with camera poised until it does blow off!

Guatemala to Belize

We spent a further 3 nights in Flores living a comfortable life, catching up on a few chores, enjoying warm showers and the variety of food on offer. We stayed in a small hotel overlooking the lake and we both enjoyed not having much to do. We took our clothes to the laundrette, Gemma apologised to the owner (the combination of human sweat and animal faeces gives off a remarkably pungent aroma). 

We decided eventually to take a tour to the Mayan site of Tikal, given it's proximity and the glowing reviews others had given us. Booking a van to the site was simple enough, there are several "travel agents" on the island (they all seem to double up, some are also internet cafes, others gift shops, one is even a pharmacy). However we decided against the 4.30am tour, we had been warned that you can't actually see the sunrise because of the mist.

Instead we caught the van at 8am and made our way to Tikal. It takes a little over an hour from Flores, the route taking you past several military installations. The small villages with wooden abodes seem a far way from the stone built sanctuary of Flores, but even then it still feels secure. Which makes you wonder why so many security guards here carry guns - and not little ones, the pump action shot-gun seems to be the weapon of choice, inevitably looking shiny, new, well cared for. Actually, I'd rather not know why they carry them - ignorance is bliss.

The bus eventually reached the park entrance gate, the guide tried to take our entrances fee but we refused. One of the many things we have learnt is to pay your entrance fees yourselves, there is no reason for your guide to take it, and by paying yourselves and receiving your own ticket you can be sure that the money is actually going to the right place. That said, Tikal was the most expensive sight we had visited so far, 150 Quetzals (about £12) just for the entrance fee. Compared to Palenque (about £2.50) we were expecting the temples to have bells and whistles on.

In one sense we weren't disappointed. What Dietmar (the German who gave us the free slide-show a week back) had said proved correct. Tikal was by far the most "monumental" site we had seen so far, but Palenque more beautiful. Accompanied by Brandon and Katy, an American couple who kindly shared their map with us, we walked for about 30 minutes to temple 4, which towers 70 metres above the surrounding plaza. Unlike Palenque you cannot climb the stones themselves, instead using a flight of wooden stairs to make your way up.


As you ascend the stairs you become conscious of nearing, and then passing above the tops of the trees, and by the time you reach the end of the stairs and move onto the temple proper the view stretches out for miles in front of you. From here you can make out the tops of the other major temples at Tikal and it gives you a clearer idea of just how big a site Tikal is. That said it took all four of us a few minutes to get our breath back, have a drink of water and a snack before we could reach for our cameras. But the view is well worth the small effort involved.

After sitting atop the temple for twenty minutes we climbed down and began to work our way around the other sites. As we walked we chatted with Brandon and Katy, who seemed to be the American version of us (met it the same way; around the same time; similar jobs; even down to the same favourite tv shows). I impressed Brandon with my knowledge of American football - he was a Green Bay fan, and couldn't believe I owned a Packers shirt.

As we chatted and laughed our way through the forest trails a German tour group decided to stand right next to us, and then shush us in the most rude manner. I was pretty staggered by this, not only had they decided to come over to where we were standing, but they shushed us like naughty children, complete -with fingers over mouths. We weren't even being that loud. Eurosceptics will be pleased to read that I told them to "go fornicate elsewhere".

We moved on to the next temple, and Brandon and I did what all men (boys) do best, we ran straight up it. It wasn't the highest temple, and the sides hadn't been cleared of overgrown plants, but we spotted several erect tails bobbing above the grass. Initially we assumed they belonged to spider monkeys which had come down to the ground, but in fact these tails belonged to a little raccoon-like creature. As our eyes became accustomed to the darkness we realised there were actually about a hundred tails, all heading down the hillside, so we followed them down for some photos. They didn't seemed to mind us at all, and several of them came within 3 feet of us.

After amusing ourselves with the animals, we made our way to the lost world and the grand plaza, just in time for the sun to come out from behind a cloud and threaten to burn us to a crisp. There wasn't much shade to be had, but after climbing past huge carved face on the side of a smaller temple we were able to shelter at the rear and finished off the last of our water whilst we watched some spider monkeys swing through the trees around us.

Back at the entrance we toyed with the idea of going inside the museum, but there was a separate charge (at Palenque it had been included). We peeked through the windows, the results were fairly unimpressive. As a comparison, if you wanted to visit a Mayan site, I would definitely recommend Palenque above Tikal. The latter certainly has the larger temples, but at a cost. The site is crawling with tourists, is expensive, the museum is tiny and not well explained, and Palenque is by far the more photogenic site. Just be careful not to get robbed there.

We returned to Flores and tried to locate a working cash machine. Both ATM's on the island refused to function, so we decided to head to the mainland. Before we set off the heavens opened so we dived into the nearest cafe for lunch, before catching a tuk-tuk across the causeway to Santa Elena. The ride was fun and cheap, and the driver to us to a large shopping mall opposite the airport. We found a cashpoint, withdrew enough to cover our remaining time in Guatemala, and had a look around. Bizarrely we discovered Father Christmas in conversation with a Real Madrid fan, I heard the name "Michael Owen" three times!

The following morning we set off on the 5am bus to Belize. In the morning darkness we boarded and were surprised by how busy the bus was, and how tiny. The seats were clearly designed for midgets, and we rode the 2 hours to the border squashed in, with our knees up by our ears! Just before the border we stopped, and nearly everyone got off, leaving ourselves, two German girls and an Argentine couple. Unfortunately the latter pair hadn't checked the visa requirements, and needed both passport photos and a visa.

We checked out of Guatemala with the German girls in tow, walked across the border and entered Belize. It was pretty amazing to hear English spoken again, when we were welcomed by the border control guards. We had our passports stamped and began the waiting game - the driver had decided to give the couple 30 minutes to complete visa formalities, so we changed a little cash into Belizean Dollars (Dollars - with the Queens head on) and walked to a roadside cafe for a drink. Fortunately they made it, a credit to the US embassy who received a used application from the border, processed it and replied by fax within that short the frame.

The drive to Belize City took a further 2 hours, during which time we began to spread out and then fell asleep. By 11am we reached the port, and the porters, waiting like hawks, grabbed our bags and took them the 12 steps to the baggage handling area. We bought our boat tickets and before long we were on board a small, rusty old vessel which didn't much cut through the waves as smash into them. A few of the passengers looked a bit rough, but hardy old sea dogs that we are, we didn't feel a thing. 

The boat navigated it's way between small Cayes and the occasional mangrove forest as the sun beat down upon those foolish souls who had sat outside. After 45 minutes we turned sharply and the island of Caye Caulker appeared before us, looking magical in the sunlight. We hopped off the boat before it continued on to San Pedro and waited on the beach for our bags. When they arrived we treated ourselves to a golf buggy ride to the hotel - which was vastly overpriced but pretty fun all the same. 

The contrast between Belize and Guatemala is pretty staggering, the culture here is far more Cariibbean, and it is taking some time to get used to not saying "gracias" or "por favore" to people. The island is covered with palm trees and rustic wooden beach shacks, painted in bright - but faded - colours. The people are obviously different too, a mix of black African descendants and the more casual American who has moved abroad. And I could almost believe Bob MArley is still alive from the number of times I've heard his familiar voice fill the air.

We decided to treat ourselves to a nice hotel, so we are staying at the imaginatively named "Da Real Macaw", with cable tv, a fridge and air conditioning - and it is well worth the money. The hammocks outside each room alone are good value (more for the entertainment of watching me get in and out). We're enjoying living the beach life and eating fresh seafood every day, the lobster in particular is excellent, fresh and cheap (compared to home).

From here we will head back to Guatemala, probably to Antigua, but for now we have checked in for an extra night at the beach. Gemma has gone snorkeling today, whilst I will be wasting my life away in a comfy hammock - just as soon as I finish making the insurance claim down at the internet cafe, and try to convince o2 that I did indeed cancel my phone contract in August, and work out how to fix Gemma's camera. 

The work never stops, even in paradise.