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 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.

Flores and ARCAS

After crossing the river and arriving in a small border town called Bethel we were met by our connecting bus. Not quite a chicken bus, it was nevertheless a few steps down from the Mexican buses. Gemma and I were the last to board, which worked out well as we had the four backrow seats to ourselves, so we were able to snatch a little sleep as the old bus bounced it's way over the unpaved, uneven road. 

We arrived in Flores having managed to fend off the tour operators advances ("why you no book to go to Tikal, you no like ruins?" "I like ruins; I just don't like being ripped off!"). The bus crossed the causeway onto the small island town and as luck would have it we drove straight past our hostel, so we were able to jump off and save ourselves a taxi fare (and a lot of faffing). 

After checking in and throwing our bags down we decided to go for a walk, but in the attached cafe we spotted two friends from the previous hostel, a couple called Dan and Harriet. It's always nice to bump into a few people you know, even if you've only known them 48 hours, so we sat down. Dan read our minds and offered us a beer, and we recounted the previous days adventures down at the police station. 

After a short catch-up the hostel owner, Dietrich, gave a slide show presentation on the Tikal ruins. Gemma really enjoyed the presentation, and it wasn't too bad for me either, but by this point my concentration was severely depleted, in inverse proportion to my appetite! Dietrich explained the different temples, offered advice on the best route to tour the site, and what time to be at each. He also told us that the Palenque ruins are probably the most elegant of Mayan ruins, whilst the Tikal site is the most monumental. 

After another beer Gemma and I went out for dinner. The streets were packed, and we could see party going on up a hill towards the main plaza, but by this point I was too hungry to care, so we carried on to the nearest restaurant and ate our fill. The party was still going on when we retraced our steps, so we climbed the street and stood in the middle of the plaza. The new Christmas tree (sponsored by Gallo, the local lager manufacturer) had just been unveiled and a band stood on a platform to one side of the square belting out evidently popular, but indecipherable tunes. The plaza was packed, it was a little too much after such a long day of travel, so we returned to the hostel and crashed out. 

We spent a further two nights in Flores. In truth, whilst it's quite pretty (in a rundown way) there isn't much to do, which suited us just fine. We didn't go to tikal, figuring that we were coming back this way soon anyhow, so instead we spent our days relaxing, eating and catching up with a few chores - blogging, washing, lying under the fan! 

We had dinner with Dan and Harriet one evening, and afterwards took a few drinks back to their apartment and sat outside on deck chairs, chatting through the night. After two and a half months without a great deal of company, it was really nice to have other people to talk to. And they both had some interesting stories, having already travelled for some months, staying on Organic farms and working for their beds (something apparently known as WWOFING). We said our goodbyes, as they were heading off to another farm in Belize the next day, having written down the details for several good hostels on the route we are travelling.

After 3 nights we packed our bags and left the hostel early one morning. Heading down to the causeway we found the small dock area and waited for our ride to ARCAS. ARCAS is a small conservation organisation which rehabilitates animals so they can go back to the wild, something we found on the internet several months before we set off. Unfortunately the boat didn't show up, so I wandered over to the other side of the causeway to see a small craft loaded with bananas dashing away from us. Damn. The bananas were a pretty big clue eh!

Using our emergency phone we dialed the organisation's assistant director and he sent the boat back for us. Crossing the lake felt fantastic, although we weren't quite sure what we were in for. The sun was shining, the fresh air blew into our faces for the first time in a long while, it felt very adventurous. The boat headed for a small gap in the reeds, and the pilot had to cut the engine and punt with an oar. When we pulled through the reeds into a small expanse of water covered with lilies it looked every inch the tropical destination.

We were met by Ali, one of the volunteer coordinators, given fresh bedsheets and taken to our dorm, up a hillside covered by dense trees. We dumped our bags down and went for a short tour of our immediate environment. Right outside of the volunteer dorm there were three large cages full of birds, Scarlet Macaws and Parrots, and just behind us were two ponds with crocodiles, altogether a very effective intruder alarm system! 

We arrived during morning chores time, so we had an hour to ourselves before we started the 11am shift. The ARCAS site is decided up into several different stages: Quarantine; Post-Quarantine; Pre-Rehab; and Rehab. When an animal is confiscated by CONAP (Consejo Nacional de Áreas Protegidas), an official organization which has been set up to protect the environment and wildlife of Guatemala, they are brought to ARCAS and given a check up by a vet. If they are healthy they can be released straight back into the wild, dependant on certain conditions. However, usually they cannot, especially if they are young (as many of the arrivals are). At this point they will go into quarantine, where they will be monitored for a period of time to assess if they are physically and mentally healthy. In practice this can mean many things, for example with parrots you must observe whether they can mimic human sounds, if they can they can never be released into the wild because they will be shunned by wild parrots. 

Once they have passed quarantine, they head to post-quarantine and then pre-rehab. As the creatures progress through the stages human contact is gradually withdrawn, the cages are moved further away from people. Depending upon the species this could take anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of years. Assuming they pass this stage, they go to Rehab. Rehab is quite a long walk from anywhere in particular, because the animals have to get used to not seeing people at all. The enclosures are huge, and cover an area of unmanaged tropical forest. Very occasionally someone will go and take some pans to bang, to instill the idea that humans are scary and should be avoided. After this, they can be released. 

At any stage, if an animal fails, they can either drop back a level, or else they may end up in the education centre. The education centre was a 10 minute walk along a jungle path, near the lake. Built with funds supplied by Disney (who unfortunately pulled out after 3 years meaning ARCAS had to let their one PR person leave), the centre is a home for those animals who cannot be released back into the wild. For example there were two Ocelots, one blind and the other missing a leg (trapped in a hunters snare), several parrots who could mimic humans, and two Cayman, a non-native species. Here the occasional tour is given, sometimes to tourists from Flores and at other times to local schools, but since the PR person left this is less common. 

Gemma was assigned to one of the teams working in Quarantine, whilst I was sent to Pre-Rehab. My shifts consisted primarily of cleaning two large cages thoroughly and feeding the inhabitants (30 parrots in one cage and 12 scarlet macaws in the other). Byron and Alanna showed me the ropes on the first day, and by the end of the shift I was thoroughly sweaty, the heat and humidity making even the most basic task feel arduous. We would remove 3 large feeding platforms, which are hoisted from the air, take them to the ante-chamber and wash them with a hose, scrub them, spray with a little chlorine, remove any bits of food stuck in the platform, then wash again with the hose. We'd refill the platforms with food (usually chopped banana and corn) and fresh water, then hoist them back into the air. Meanwhile the other person would be sweeping up the debris from the cage to ensure there was no rotten food inside the enclosure.

All the while we had to dodge parrots, making sure we didn't tread on any and especially that we didn't talk to any - which might sound strange, but it is really hard not to say something when a parrot lands on your brush handle as you are sweeping and stares at you with curiosity in his eyes. In the other cage the process was largely the same, with a few exceptions. You really had to look carefully because the Macaws are massive birds, you don't want to be underneath one when they decide to empty their bowels! There were also a couple of other birds in with the Macaws, both about the size of a turkey, a crested Guam and a Faisan.

These shifts were repeated three times as day, at 6.30am, 11am and 2pm. In between we’d find time for breakfast and lunch, and there was a 2 hour window for “chore time”. This could be anything, one day Gemma had to go to the lake to catch some fish for the herons lunch, another day I got to clean out the crocodiles and snapping turtle enclosure, and on a different day we both had to rake leaves around the education centre (because the snakes like to hang out under dead leaves). 

Whilst I was busy working with my feathered friends a little way away from everyone, Gemma stayed down in pre-quarantine with Satcha, where she was taking care of 26 parrots and parakeets, 3 howler monkeys and a toucan (obviously in different cages). I know she was very happy to be assigned to the howler monkeys, and every mealtime I got an update on their mischievous antics - I did think I was going to have to go down to her cage to have a word with the monkeys about encroaching personal space. They graduated from the odd cheeky poke, through stealing brushes and hoses to full blown hair pulling during the time we spent at ARCAS. 

Occasionally due to volunteer illness (there was a lot of it going around) we would be removed from our normal routines to help provide cover. One day Byron and I got to clean out the spider monkeys, and we couldn't quite hide our delight. The spider monkeys are great fun, it seems like their limbs are made of plasticine as they stretch and swing about the cage. They were pretty nervous about us, hiding at the tops of the cage initially. We took it in turns to clean whilst the other would assume guard duty, keeping hold of the high pressure water hose (just in case). But as soon as we brought out their afternoon snack, a large bunch of leaves, they overcame their shyness and tried to snatch them from our hands. 

There were not many volunteers during our brief stay, about 12 in all, at peak times there can be over 50. On the one hand this was good because we got to experience a number of different tasks in a short time (e.g. Gemma got to feed a poorly heron), but equally it meant that good conversation was at a premium. The volunteer coordinators (Ali, Anna and Glen) were really nice, but looking a bit run down, and I really enjoyed working with Byron and Alanna. The accommodation wasn't great, just sufficient for a basic level of hygiene - I still think I can smell the bathroom from here. After 3 shifts and a chore, I would have loved a non-freezing shower, but at least we had water. The one thing that really got me down was the food. Suffice to say that on reaching Flores we went to Burger King and it felt like a flavour explosion in my mouth.

After 4 days of living in the jungle, fending off the mosquitos (largely unsuccessfully), trying not to cry when I saw beans on my plate, smelling of manure and finding parrot shit in the most unlikely and unforeseeable places, we decided to call it a day. It is better to leave with good memories of the animals and the people than come to resent it, and we've both had some amazing experiences in a very short period of time. We called a local boatman, Carlos, who picked us up from a nearby pier and sailed across the lake to Flores.

Gemma Adds:

We finished working at ARCAS a few days earlier than planned but still happy with our contribution. It was really hard work in temperatures above 30 degrees Celsius and both of us suffered from dehydration as well as numerous aches and pains. 

Arriving back in Flores was a delight, not only because it is such a stunning place, but also because we were back to relative comfort, luxury after the poor living conditions of the jungle. Food has never tasted so good (garlic butter on fresh, hot, homemade wholemeal bread and salad) and I had a glass of pretty rubbish cheap red wine - which was lovely! I savored every mouthful.

I have to say that I ache all over and while being with the animals was great, the heat and the low standard of living made the physically difficult work even harder. Food portions were small and served with a black mashed up bean sauce (frijoles) three times a day, but when I was given my breakfast on our final day it really took the biscuit. It was a bread roll. Just a bread roll! That was it. No butter or jam. Just the optional extra bean mush! I could laugh because it was our last day but I don't know how people stay there for several months (and pay for the privilege!)

Simple things could have made it better, like if my wellies didn't have holes in them (I have a mini version of trench foot!) and hot showers for example.

We finished on a high with both of us having our best day there so far. For me, the highlight was when a baby howler monkey called Issy climbed gently onto my shoulder and wrapped her tail around my neck. It broke my heart to have to brush her off but I knew it was the right thing to do if I ever want her to be released back into the wild. And I do want that for them all.

All in all it was a great experience, but I'm glad it is over and that I get to sleep in a proper bed that doesn't smell!