Rivers, bats, bugs and waterfalls...
Trip Start
Feb 10, 2008
1
13
29
Trip End
Aug 06, 2008
Chisec,
Guatemala
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Anyway, I believe Finca Tatin was the last place I had (briefly) written about. To give you an idea of the type of activities available, here are a few of the (genuine) suggestions on their notice board - "enjoy homecooked food", "rent a kayak and explore the river", "relax in a hammock and read", and the frankly bizarrely linked "learn Spanish and make sex" . I must inform you that no sex was made, for which I am somewhat grateful, as on the first night I was accompanied at the dinner table by a small French pensioner (I feel gender is irrelevant here), the young man who worked at the Finca, and the Argentinian in her 60s who was one of the co-owners. Despite the somewhat awkward formalness of the affair, the food was delicious, as it was for the following three nights of my stay.
The next morning I was glad to be joined by Colin, a 25 year old from California, who I had met a couple of days before in Livinston. We turned to the notice board to decide what our activity of the day would be, and thankfully we both decided upon renting some kayaks to explore the river. Unfortunately these vessels were just as troublesome as the canoe that I had tried to captain in Flores, and we both struggled to head in any direction that didnīt involve crashing into foliage. Luckily for me it turns out that this predicament is much funnier when you have company, and so no one had to witness a repeat of my infantile thrashings and wailings that had marred my previous watery outing. Furthermore, our surroundings were so beautiful that I was happy to just lie back in the middle of the river and enjoy the view.
Upon our return to land that evening I played the worst game of chess of my life, and had to retire within about 6 moves. I blame the fact that we couldnīt see that well (no electricity), I was absolutely starving (hadnīt eaten since breakfast), and the pieces were far too phallic for my liking (Iīm fairly certain Kings in the medieval times didnīt resemble small penises).
The next morning Colin and I had a chess rematch (with a different set of pieces I might add), and although I did lose yet again, it was not for a good 2 hours or so, so I was happy. That afternoon some Canadians that had been staying with us returned from their kayak outing, and it turned out that they had acquired some badass new kayaks that actually went in a straight line. So once again Colin and I set out on a voyage, which this time turned out to be far more successful. After taking a couple of turnings off the main river, we began to head along a narrower stream, passing little wooden huts as their occupants waved to us. For more than an hour we followed this path, as the stream became narrower and narrower and our surroundings denser and more overgrown. Eventually it got to the point where our oars became useless, and we had to resort to using our hands to push us along; I thought it was going to be like that film where some unfortunate soul walks along a corridor that gets narrower and narrower, until it gets so small that he is trapped and canīt get back, or indeed forward. Luckily that was not to be our fate, and in fact the end of our journey arrived in the rather more pleasant form of a pond surrounded by corn fields, where we enjoyed a very fresh corn on the cob and went back on our way. The journey back to the Finca once we hit the main river again was my favourite part of the day, as the sun was just disappearing behind the cliffs , creating an awe-inspiring reflection on the lakeīs surface. As I reclined in my kayak and watched the clouds, one of which had taken the form of a super hot catwoman riding a motorcycle, I realized that I couldnīt think of any other place I would rather be. And I donīt think Iīve been able to say that enough in my young life.
The next day had I decided to leave the finca, but God had other plans. After essentially waiting the whole day for a lancha back to Rio Dulce, which I was told go every half an hour or so, I had to give up and head back to the Finca for another night. Luckily I had been accompanied during this time by a cool dutch woman by the name of Brenda, and Guy, an Israeli who, had he been sporting those dashing curly sideburns, would have been the most stereotypical Jew possible. Although he was quite entertaining, I would have got sick of him after a few days, as a) he didnīt stop talking, and b) his endless list of anecdotes were told with such energy and passion that the punchline (or more commonly complete lack of one) would normally leave one feeling empty, breathless and frustrated (Iīm sure thereīs a sex joke in there somewhere, feel free to make up your own). The wait turned out to be worth it in the end, however, as we ended up heading to some local caves with Alexis, the young Guatemalan who worked at the Finca. The highlight was undoubtedly the sunset, at which point hundreds of bats flew out from the cave via a hole that must have been about 2 square foot in area. In fact the highlight was the fact that we had to walk within a foot of this hole to get back to our boat, and so literally came face to face with the screeching vermin as they flew to within an inch of our faces before veering away at the last second. At first I couldnīt stop laughing when Brenda, the first in line of the group, dealt with this experience by standing paralyzed and screaming intermittently, but when I tried to be manly and go in front of her I ended up crouching with both my hands in front of my face, and shuffling forward at a rate of about 3 feet a minute. Although I no doubt looked a bit of a clown, I enjoyed the experience.
An experience I did not enjoy, however, was that nightīs sleep. Although I had previously had three nights of decent enough slumber, I think that on the fourth night several things finally got to me. In addition to the stifling heat, for starters the beds in the dorm measured approximately 1 foot by 4, and despite having had my pick of the bunch, I had ended up with one that was missing the vital slat of wood where my back and shoulders lay. To add to the feelings of claustrophobia and discomfort, the mosquito net hung about 4 inches from the bedīs surface, meaning that the slightest movement would result in it brushing against any uncovered area of skin (NB this is much more annoying than it might sound). And when I did finally manage to get some shuteye, I would be awoken by the deafening buzz, followed by the panicked flapping of wings against my face, of a friendly giant beetle. This was usually followed by a silent, yet frenzied, flapping of the arms and jerking of the body by yours truly, until I regained the composure to turn on my torch and, upon spotting the offender, use the other side of the tool to "smack it in the head". The noise that this made is genuinely one of the most satisfying sounds that I have ever heard.
The next day we did manage to make it back to Rio Dulce, at which point I said my goodbyes to Guy and Brenda. My next destination was a little town called El Estor, which was a couple of hours West of Rio Dulce and lay right on the edge of the biggest lake in Guatemala, Lago Izabal. I had been told that there was no real tourist presence in the town, and I was keen to get away from the throngs of other backpackers for a couple of days. And because no backpackers = no hostels, I had no choice but to stay in the relative luxury of Hotel Vista Del Lago, which included a private room, ensuite bathroom, and cable TV! That evening, to make the most of all these benefits, I pretty much did nothing but shower, lie naked in my room, and watch TV. The televisual highlights turned out to be Wrestlemania XXIV, with Spanish commentary, American Pie, with Spanish dubbing, and a fantastic erotica about an alien who comes to earth to learn about human emotion (think 3rd Rock from the Sun, but with less eccentric balding men and more softcore pornography).
The following day I took a daytrip to yet another local finca - El Paraiso - whose grounds include a beautiful hot spring waterfall. I think it was a Sunday, so it was packed full of Guatemalan families swimming, playing music, eating BBQs, and generally enjoying themselves. The only other gringos aside from me were a Canadian couple and an Aussie couple I had already met at Finca Tatin. To try and paint a picture of the place - there is a cold water river, which is hemmed in at either side by rocks and various types of vegetation, where the families sit when not swimming. At one end of the river there is a much deeper section, into which falls the steaming hot waterfall, thus creating a pleasantly warm swimming pool. If you swim underneath the waterfall there is just enough air between the rocks and the water to fit your head, and the splash of the boiling water and the natural heat of the rocks creates a sauna like effect. All around the "swimming pool" there are a number of different rocks and surfaces from which to dive, or indeed backflip as many of the locals exhibited. I was going to try and follow suit, but abandoned the idea after inexplicably damaging my testicles following a headfirst dive.
So after what had been a fun day out I jumped on a bus back to the luxury of my hotel room, to enjoy a night that was similar to the one before. Although there wasnīt really much to do in El Estor, I enjoyed my few outings into the town as I was the only gringo there, and so it just felt like a normal Guatemalan town as opposed to one that was geared completely towards tourism. This came with the added bonus that everything was dirt cheap - a filling dinner of tortillas, rice, beans, cheese, meat and gravy cost me less than a pound, and 20p bought me one of the most delicious fresh banana smoothies Iīve ever tasted.
The following morning I headed off towards my next destination, Lanquin. But at this point I shall stop, as the rain has finally ceased, and I am desperate for some dinner.
Until next time, adios.
x
