Well aren't I quite the lazy Larry
Trip Start
Feb 10, 2008
1
11
29
Trip End
Aug 06, 2008
Flores,
Guatemala
Saturday, April 5, 2008
I think my last entry only covered up until the Monday before last, so you will have to forgive me if my recollections are a little hazy. In addition my time in Guatemala, although most enjoyable, has perhaps been less eventful and so less suited to blog-writing than the rest of my trip.
I ended up staying for four days in Los Amigos Hostel, Flores. It was probably my favourite place to stay of the trip so far - for those of you who have seen Robin Hood Prince of Thieves, it reminded me a little bit of the "den" that Robin and his fellow rebels create in the middle of the forest. For those of you who haven't seen Robin Hood Prince of Thieves... I feel for you. Although the rooms in the place were nothing special, there was a designated outdoor-yet-covered area for everyone to hang out in which included hammocks, dogs, a demented parrot, candle lit dinners, chess boards etc. It's kind of hard to describe the vibe of the place, so I will let the photos and videos do the talking once I have uploaded them. On my second day at the hostel I had planned to go on a little canoe trip around the lake, but instead ended up staying in the comfort of Los Amigos for the entire day. I spent a lot of it talking to the French Canadian who I had previously branded annoyingly arrogant (Xavier); once again I proved that I shouldn't be so swift to judge people, as although he was a little annoying, it was actually in quite an endearing way. During the morning I was surrounded by a group of quasi-hippies, and Xavier anounced that we should play that game wherby a group of people tell a story, using the following technique - each person writes a sentence or two and finishes with a "connecting word", which the next person uses to write a couple of sentences of their own (without seeing what the previous person has written). The topic was "paradise", and whilst I wrote some drivel about free beer and attractive women, the others all wrote things like (and these are real samples) "a purple mist recedes to reveal turqoise butterflies", "everyone gives out strong hugs full of love", and "my soul quits my body to fly over all of my problems". Clearly I was a little out of my spiritual depth, and I was pleased to be
rejoined by the more cynical Irish girls in the evening.
That night I went to bed at about 1am, and following approximately 2 hours of sleep, woke up again to catch the bus to Tikal. For those of you who are unaware, Tikal is another Mayan ruins site, but it is fairly unique in that it is set right in the middle of a tropical jungle. I had decided to see it via the sunrise tour, which involved a 4am trek in pitch black to one of the tallest temples at the site. The views were pretty amazing, and although I do have a few photos they don't do it justice. The sounds were equally impressive as the jungle life began to awake - particularly the howler monkeys, whose morning roar would seem more appropriate coming from the mouth of some 10 ton freak of nature lion. After the sunrise we had a few hours to see the rest of the site, the highlight of which was the laddered ascent to the tallest ruin (which once again had amazing views of the surrounding jungle and other temples). Although I am not particularly scared of heights, I am afraid of dying, and the 3 foot deep platform with no barrier that constituted the viewing point at the top did make me feel a little uneasy. Even so I couldn't stop laughing at this Japanese woman, who was literally whimpering as she crawled on her hands and knees whilst
clutching the back wall.
On the Thursday I managed to summon the energy to head out on my canoe trip that I had previously planned for Tuesday. The canoe owner warned me that the current was much stronger in the middle of the lake than near the shore, and so I did the obvious thing of paddling out 3 metres and then having a rest to read my book. Once I had wrenched my attention back to the lake a few minutes later, I noticed that I appeared to have drifted to the very centre. No matter I thought, I'll just head to the right to make it to my destination (a local beach). But no matter how hard I paddled solely on my left hand side, I couldn't get the canoe to head in any direction that even resembled right; I felt like Ben Stiller's retarded twin in Zoolander. As I headed full steam ahead towards an uninhabited island, I couldn't devise any sort of plan that would get me to where I wanted to go, and so for some reason decided to continue paddling furiously on my perilous path until I crash landed into some reeds. At this point I could think of nothing better to do than urinate off the side of the boat, and resume my reading. After a half hour or so I decided that I should probably try and do something about my somewhat bizarre position, and so, with some difficulty, I eventually prised myself free from my reedy prison cell and once again tried to head towards the beach on the other side of the lake. For a while things were going well; although I was heading against the current, I was making good progress. But then, unexplicably, my canoe began to spin around, and I found my self facing the complete opposite direction. After struggling for a couple of minutes I managed to resume my previous path, but once again I was hurled helplessly back in the direction that I had come from. This somewhat frustrating pattern continued for at least an hour, at which point I literally began smashing my oar against the boat and wailing like a two year old. Although I am not proud of these tantrums, I feel that anyone in my position would have done the same. At this point I admitted defeat and decided just to head back to the shore that I had originally departed from. However to my shock, and indeed horror, just a few metres along my return journey the canoe suddenly spun around to face the way that I had previously wanted to go! It seemed that the waters were determined to repel me from any shore, and as I sat regretting my Jesus-bashing tirade in Belize I began to contemplate the thought of spending the night in a canoe in the middle of the lake. But after several more tantrums I decided I wasn't going to let the lake beat me, and after a long strenuous struggle I eventually made it back to the shore. Overall I spent about 4 hours on the water, and although I didn't actually make it to any of the destinations that I had planned, I was filled with a sense of triumph for making it back to shore, which more than made up for it.
That evening I chilled out in the hostel as usual, and met a Dutchmen named Reik, who confirmed for me that Nightevecht does indeed mean homosexual sparring. We played a marathon game of chess, and I suffered my first loss of the trip, making my record 4-1. Although this was kind of annoying, I think you learn more by losing than winning, and by the time I return to England I hope to be the next Nigel whatever his name was.
The following morning, which was 8 days ago, I left the hostel to head to a little town called Poptun. But I must stop there, because I am not remotely in the mood for writing. Hopefully I can get back up to date in the next couple of days, but I will not be holding my breath.
Hope you are all well
x
