Blessed limonada

Guatemala is really good looking. I had no idea I would be staring at beautiful waterscapes all day. So, I´m not complaining. Although I also had no idea that so many things are negoitable; bus fares are rountinely ten quetzales less than what they tell you.

First stop for me was Flores. As an island on a lake, it´s certainly pretty, but also tourist filled and slightly santified, like real life is left behind across the bridge. Tuk tuks frequent the city, little scooter-carts that buzz around like insects. The most fun ever on a ride to the bus station. So, from Flores I took a (typically overcrowded) minibus to the town of El Remate.

El Remate is described in my guidebook as a "two street town". I only counted one. It´s right on the shores of Lago de Peten Itza, smaller than Flores and more genuine. Most tourists only pass through at full speed on their way to Tikal. The location meant that my palm-leafed hut had a picture perfect view of the water. Horses grazed on the green field by the shore, broken down docks strutted out into the water, mooring water-filled wooden canoes. I spent a lot of time hanging out at Comedor La Benedicion, a little restaurant (of sorts) with a grandmotherly señora, one outside table and a lot of chickens running around. Wobbly handwritten signs proclaimed the menu. The licuados there were amazing; who knew fruit whizzed up with ice and sugar could be so good? I would walk over hot coals to get another licuado con fresa. I will have such fond memories of sitting at that table, maybe playing Scrabble with some friends from the hostel, and watching the dusty lane opposite. Occasionally it would be traversed by a mother chicken leading her children in single file, or a couple of dogs, or a bicycle.

Since I just happened to be in the area, you know, I thought I´d pay a visit to Tikal. One of Guatemala´s biggest tourist attractions, Tikal is the former Mayan capital set in the jungle. The Hotel Sak-Luk gang (two doctors, an architect and a journalist, all American, picked up at the hostel) set off at 5.30am. As we wound our way through the jungle, the night got lighter and turned into a grey grey dawn. I´d heard that if you arrive early enough, you don´t need to pay to get in. But at the gate the guard seemed very interested in seeing my ticket, and he had a gun, so I wasn´t going to argue. Tikal was green and grey sky and a lot of very old stones. Most of these stones were in large piles. I sat on one of these large piles, Temple II, and ate breakfast. There was no one else around at that hour, except the bird calls and the mist around Temple I. It was pretty cool. So were the massive ants that sat on my discarded banana peel, they must have been half an inch long.

Other highlights of Tikal include: the cute raccoon-ish animals that move in packs, running up and down the trees and snuffling. Climbing to the top of Temple IV and emerging above the jungle, an island in a sea of green, broken by the tips of a few other temples in the distance. The monkeys in the trees at the top of Temple IV, the guard who let me jump the fence to get closer and who put up with my terrible Spanish. The crocodile lazing in the pond at the entrance. He looked sleepy. I was sleepy too at that point - Tikal is Big! - and had to return to Comedor La Benedicion for some restorative vegetable soup. But it was sitting in El Mundo Perdido (The Lost World) that I thought about the dead city, and the dead people, and all the villagers whose homes have not survived. Their huts weren´t made out of stone, and they´ve been forgotten, the population that would have made Tikal bustle and live. Must have been quite the place to be, back in the day, I guess.

After Tikal all anyone was capable of was lunch and swimming in the mirrored lake from a palm-roofed hut. We watched the sun set out there, eating ice cream. The next morning, I found the energy to pack my things and head to Comedor La Benedicion once again. It also functions as one of the local bus stops. Our adopted señora was making the morning tortillas. The two doctors tried their hand, found it difficult (I´m proud to say mine turned out the best). Just as my mini-bus pulled up, I said goodbye for the last time and the señora handed me a bag of just-cooked tortillas, too hot to touch. The bus pulled away from El Remate.

Through more jungle, I am now in Rio Dulce. More water, a river, and a bridge crossing it (the longest in Central America). Tomorrow I will take a boat down to Livingston, a Garifuna town on the coast. It´s rained a lot already today. The rickety old hostel I´m staying in is right on the water. It´s pretty special; everything seems a big sketchy, like it´s about to fall into the water. Touch wood. Plenty of jungle around too. Typical. There has been a lot of jungle in the past few weeks. The rest of the world seems a very very long way away.

P.S. I would just like to mention that this post has been riddled with computer disasters. I have had to rewrite it in full. Oh, life.