Guatemala Part 4

Not sure how I left this blog and I am too lazy to go find out. I figured it was somewhere around Coban and given that I am in my last night in Puerto Rico its ironic that one of the problems dovetails. The door was impossible to open in Coban in the hotel. I felt like a cat burglar while I fondled around with the lock in search of an opening. Here in Puerto Rico my door is stiff and not cut to the right specifications so I have to shoulder charge it every time I want to open it.



In the morning, with the knowledge that I would have to return to Coban, I set off on my way to Flores. This involves traipsing through the rain to the bus station. Except my old book does not have the real bus station. That would be too simple. It has it where some market now stands. Bugger. I need an alternative. I ended up asking every individual how to get there as I did not trust one direction I received. Having traipsed all the way outside of town (without one bad direction to be fair) I found the bus station, was accosted by a moustached man and sucked onto a bus for Sayxiche. I did not know why I could not go all the way to Flores originally, but then i found out there is a river in the way. Makes sense. I had made the mistake that morning of wearing the shorts with one pocket so I had to load everything bar my mp3 player on the right side. During the bus ride my mp3 player would slide from my pocket and the little shit next to me would steal it. I disembarked from the bus and searched for the player. Shit. It was gone. The bus guys looked all over and the ferry crossed without me. I accepted my fate reluctanty and decided to board the next ferry which cost 2 quetzals. I had one. Shit. I promised him the other one when I bought some water. On the other side I bought a bag of water for a quetzal (despite them trying to sell me coke for 5) and tried to give the quetzal back to the boatman who had left. I tried to get one of the locals to take it for him, but they kept telling me the boat cost 2 quetzals. I knew this. Another guy wanted me to get on the bus and was saying I was a stupid tourist. First of all, I owed this quetzal and had promised it. Second of all I understood the stupid bus drivers ranting and eventually the stupid idiot next to the road took the coin. Promise fulfilled. Next stop a new bus to Flores, where I was promptly seated next to the same little shit who stole my mp3 player. Only I had no proof. I asked him in Spanish if he had seen it and he said no. Liar. Could read it in his eyes. Later on he would get his own crap music player out and use it. I was not sure if he was taunting me or trying to proove that he already had one, but he shifted uncomfortably as I imagined the various ways I could hurt him with my empty can of grape juice.



On arriving in Flores I was told I needed a taxi again when I asked for directions. Where are the tramps when you need them. Losing music I must say is criminal. I find myself sneaking into internete cafes like an addict and playing music from youtube to stay sane. Only tonight I was down my local with the jukebox singing away like some drunk in the corner. Hopefully I get reinforcements in Canada. I got onto the little island of Flores, which involves a prettyu walk over a small bridge (bike taxis run the length of this bridge for people so lazy they can't even walk 200m). I also had Pollo Campero for the first time (Guatemalan KFC) and it was good if somewhat confusing as its a fast food restaurant with table service. Was not sure whether to tip or not, so did not bother as Guatemala was expensive enough as it is. The hostel was a funky little place and I met the Aussie Michael again. We went out for drinks and caught up with regard to our last couple of weeks. While drinking on the waterfront Samuel turned up randomly (guy from Pacaya) with a friend of his (she had travelled South America for a year and swapped tips). The four of us drank for a while before heading our seperate ways. Michael down to Guatemala City and Samuel down the back route to Coban.



The bus to Tikal had several start time beginning from 5am. Fuck that. I had to get up that time the next day and was not doing 2 in a row. I opted for 8am and work up for some food. The restaurant only does vegetarian food, but the portions are huge and the quality is good. I found a Portuguese guy, a South Korean descended adopted Norwegian and eventually a crazy Yankee old guy to go to Tikal with. It now costs 15 quid to get in, which is a lot, but its still worth it. This country was proving very expensive.



All three of the guys I travelled with had some interesting stories. The Norwegian girl had been travelling and partying with her friend in Cuba and had opted to go home when her friend wanted to continuepartying with some random Cuban guys. Her friend made the mistake of trusting these randoms and ended up with broken ribs, concussion and being robbed and gang raped by seven Cuban guys in the streets of Havana. A nasty wake up call and one that has severely traumatised her friend afterwardcs and altered the whole dynamics of their trip. The Portuguese travellers story has been rudely interrupted by my incompetent keyboard that has decided to boot me out. Oddly this enabled me to discover I have two robo posts in my comments section. Good to know random advertsising software viruses are enjoying my blog. Annyway. He was arrested in a drugs bust in New York City and detained overnight in the cells while they searched an entire apartment block. More impressive than our Yankee cop run ins. The American guy was just odd and had built himself an undeground log cabin in the middle of Arizona and now lives in it along with some people who live in pods and all of them are beatnik conspiracy theorists. Made for an interesting group, though at least the Norwegian girl shared my jadedness when it came to tortillas. I needed a break from them.

Despite being hideously expensive Tikal is very very impressive. Some of the other Mayan ruins are prettier but nothing beats the vastness and setting of Tikal. Its famous for a reason. In the middle of the jungle, it is miles from any form of civilisation and even at my blistering pace the site took 7 hours to cover and see everything. We came into the main plaza and found out you could not climb anything. I had been told by someone that there were some scary wooden steps up the side of one of the temples. I saw some wooden steps, but they were not scary. I thought these people were nuts. Then on temple 4 we found them. A vertical wooden ladder straight up 55m. That would stretch my fear of heights. I made it though and all of us collectively shit ourselves at the top. Except for the Yankee. He maintained too many years of smoking weed made it impossible for him to climb. I reckon he was afraid. Ah the sounds of the horn of the cruise ship of my lateste travelling buddies can be heard drifting or rather blasting across San Juan. When you climb temple 4 you get a breathtaking panorama. It is around 60 something metres high and when you sit at the top you see nothing but jungle for miles and miles in everhy direction. It is only punctuated by the tops of the other temples jacknifing out of the trees. It must have been phneomenal when they first found this and I imagine that they must have seen it by helicopter as they just saw stone springing from the jungle. Ancient civilisation bursting from natures bowels. The place just hums with wildlife as well. We saw and watched spider monkeys playing in the trees and dropping nuts, while the native anteater things walked around the site. I sadly did not see and Chacalacas though. It was a good day out and when we got back we grabbed dinner before I made an attempt to see how much a tour agent wanted to get to Palenque. I was quoted 110 dollars including Yanixchilan and 80 dollars to make Frontera Corozal on the border. What total fucking shit. Though they almost convinced me it was dangerous and impossible. Yet I was not paying that much.

In the morning I was up at the crack of dawn and walked through the dark to the bus station. Apparently tyhis is dangerous. I saw no problems. Oh yeah Flores is a tiny little island swarming with tourists, but for some reason the few locals that are there are very good looking. I got on a bus at 5am for La Tecnica on the border with Mexico. The guy outside kept yelling random destinations that were not La Tecnica so I kept reassuring myself by asking the other passengers. This bus part cost me 50 quetzals I think. It was howevere a really rickety old bus. Dangerous it was not, though cold it was at times, because the window was constantly sliding open of its own accord. I slept while there was no light and woke up still not sure I was headed in the right direction. The ride was like that of a cool old school rollercoaster. It went through swamps, drove through flooded areas of road, bounced down bumpy roads and I saw plenty of wildlife while it looped around on its way to the border. They dropped off at immigration so I could stamp myself out. The shack in the middle of nowhere was empty for ages, while the one guard contemplated rousing himself to stamp me out. Once this formality was over it looped round to La Tecnica where I was dropped off at the waters edge. Dangerous my arse. I was then quoted 20 quetzlas for the boat crossing on the side. On the boat I was quoted 15 and eventually I was charged 10, the same as other locals. A bit of Spanish goes a long way. The boat ride was a lancha (like a long rowing boat with a motor) along the river and then across the current. Nothing stopping you from falling in, but you feel like and actor in one of those Vietnal war films. Tikal can be a bit like that, with its jungle setting and the strange bird that makes noises like the Predator.

On the Mexico side in Frontera Corozal I had breakfast in the Jaguar Inn (where me and Mike had stayed last time when we failed to cross the border). I did not bother registering with immigration as I did not want to pay again and walked to the bus station as I knew where it was and taxis were expensive. I even tried to change up my 50 questzals but was only offered 62.50 pesos. If this happens to you take it as I ended up trading for 50 in Palenque (half its face value). The stupid Zapatistas tried to charge me 15 pesos for entering their space, but I lied and said I only had 10 so I had to pay nothing. Bastards. On the way to Palenque by bus we were stopped by the police. There were 12 of us in the van. Shit, I had not bothered with my immigration stamp. The policeman thought I was Mexican, but I told him English and showed him my stamped white papers from Tijuana. Fuck I should have stamped in. Luckily he said nothing and told me to have a good time. The fact I was not officially registered in the country seemed to be no problem for Cancun airport either. My fellow busketeers were not so lucky, with five of them arrested for being illegal Guatemalan immigrants. Hmm shitty for them, but I know had more leg room. I arrived in Palenque and booked into a cheap hotel for 2 nights. It was cheap, but the sheets were plastic like and I kept sticking to them when I slept. The plans for Haiti seemed to be coming together as well although this would seem to be constantly coming together and then falling apart.