El Remate is a small village strung out along the edge of the lake. We stopped here because there is a nature reserve that is supposed to be good for birding. The hostel we chose turned out to be a sort of renovated farm house/up market shack. The Guatemalan family had built a second floor over their quarters, basic plywood walls formed three rooms with a balcony running along the front. The bare 2X4s made great shelves. A fan was included and there were lots of nails to hang a laundry line. Great view of the lake from the balcony. The shower was outside in the courtyard (cold water only). Lots of chickens running around (darren photographed them all). The room was bare, but the bed comfy.The room seemed a little overpriced at $10 a night considering we had a room with a private bath, hot water, and tv for about the same price in Flores. The family was cool - loads of character.
We crashed in an exhausted heap for the afternoon - not as young as we used to be ;)
We fed the local hound while we ate our dinner a few doors down. I caught up on email. Most importantly – we had showers. The humidity is brutal and there was no water at the campground. We stank.
Who can forget the sight of Darren shaving at the mirror beside the outdoor shower door in the courtyard while the mother of the house fed the chickens and the dad worked on one of the children's toys?
The horses wandered at will, mowing down the local soccer field, but stayed off the roads. Dogs and pigs also wandered about. All seemed pretty healthy and happy. Think the dogs have learned that foreigners are a soft touch for begging.
We walked around enjoying the lake views when an American guy came out of no where and asked if we'd like some fresh baked banana bread. It was indeed still hot. He'd been living there for ten yrs. and made ends meet selling baked goods.
We woke at dawn once again, with me groping for the blackberry alarm. Darren hadn't slept that well with the dogs barking, a baby crying, and waking with the roosters at 4 am. Aaaaahhhh! Country living.
That morning we were scheduled to visit Cerro Cahui, a nature reserve recommended for bird spotting. As we entered the park, we heard loads of birds getting their day started, but the foliage was so thick we didn't actually see one bird. We hiked about halfway around the loop, up some steep hills before giving up.
I've told Darren that I'm not climbing any more edifices. I suspect a cunning ruse to help me loose weight. After climbing a volcano, several hills in wildlife reserves, and various temples, I do believe I've lost a pound or two. Darren responded with "I thought you wanted to lose weight?"
"I did when I thought you was going to leave me for a younger woman and I wanted to be ready for the market, but now that you haven't, I've completely lost my motivation."
To which he replied, "It's not like I've not been trying. It's not my fault I've been unsuccessful. I'm still looking."
I'd strained my back wrestling around with my clothes in the hammock, so Darren asked at a little kiosk shop if they had anything for a headache. The first man said no, but that his mother had some medicinal plants for that. Not sure what she might give me, we politely said no thank you.
After another cold shower, which was great given the heat and humidity, we set off back to Flores for the night bus back to Guatemala City.
The local barber took our colectivo fare at the stop. I loved riding on those. I'd gotten into the habit of waving and saying "Hola!" to everyone we met. Just because my Spanish is terrible is no reason not to be friendly. Most people responded positively. Darren did point out that I hola-ed people who were quietly eating their dinner and not paying us any mind. Once we returned to the more urban Antigua it occurred to me that the locals in Flores and El Ramate probably saw me as the American version of the village idiot :)
We had a long lunch in Flores, which upset our stomach minutes after leaving their door. It got both of us. Even though Darren poo-pooed my little first aid kit, he was relieved when I whipped out the immodium. It would be unfortunate to get on a night bus with stomach problems.
We spent time at an internet cafe(pretty reasonable at 50 cents/half hour) and sitting on the waterfront. Darren napping and I reading my kindle.
We arrived early for the night bus and spent an hour people watching. Two American guys (early 20s) arrived with enormous packs that they set down by a bench, then walked 70 ft away to the ticket window - the bags weren't even in their line of sight. Nothing happened to their bags, but we shook our heads, figuring they would eventually learn.
We'd managed sleepers this time (seats reclined further). The first time we'd ridden one, I'd zonked out with benedryl, figuring I didn't want to know the driving habits of the bus driver. In retrospect, I think the first driver wasn't that bad. This one was a maniac. You could practically feel the wheels screech as he took the curves (in a top heavy double decker). The seats were comfy and I finally slept. I came prepared this time, wearing my entire traveling wardrobe to stay warm.
I woke with another, "aahhkkk!" When Darren thumped me awake at the Guatemala City terminal. Hate when he does that:(
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