Journey home and other misc notes of useful items

You'd never guess that Guatemala has the fourth highest murder rate in the world. The people are so nice. We would heartily recommend Guatemala. We didn't have any shady incidences.

Our trip from Panajachel to Antigua was without incident. We got our first room back at the Dona Angelina - not the one with rattling window panes that I had to stabilize with a tube of toothpaste.

We organized our shuttle for the ride to the airport, got some lunch, found some rolls for a quick breakfast, and then went to bed early.

Must have been windy last night because the window pane in this room rattled as well. As it was an upper pane, I had to lean my backpack against it to stop the rattle.

Between the rattling window panes, night buses, roosters, and dogs we've not gotten a lot of sound sleep. I'm sure we look like something the cat drug in this morning.

Darren just came back with some tea and coffee as I sit here typing in the airport. He was one Quetzal short for the cream to put in the coffee.

I believe I've picked up a mild stomach bug these last few days. The Imodium has kept it in check for the most part. I will be sure to eat bland food when I get home - not sure I know how to cook bland food. It could be just from the copious amounts of beans here, although we have been more adventurous in our eating than usual when traveling.

Things I never thought would be useful on a trip to Central America, but have been indispensable: thermals for those night buses, nights in hammocks, and generally when the weather is cooler than expected. My jacket has also been a must. Mornings waiting for a bus in Antigua are cold.

Darren says on the next trip he would bring deodorant (it was a space issue) and a knife/spoon set. The Spanish dictionary has not been used.

I would probably bring an extra mug as Darren has co-opted mine for his morning cup of coffee. I’d also bring a second bra. Some mornings my single bra has not been completely dry as promised in the travel shop ad.

Other notes: The American couple that had done most of South and Central America suggested putting religious icons and addressing packages to "Sister...." to get them to arrive unmolested in the post.

Solola Market or Death by Chicken Bus

OMG! We nearly died and Darren laughed! He was still crazy with the high produced by the colorful market at Solola. He loves the markets here. We got the chicken bus back down the mountain afterwards. I knew we were going to die. The driver took the hair pin curves at top speed. I could feel the wheels on one side leave the road as the bus swayed. My hands were white gripping the seat in front of us. Darren laughed and took copious photos of me and the view of the lake like we were at bloody six flags!

As you're reading this, you may have guessed that we didn't die after all. But I've had second thoughts about riding the chicken bus back to Antigua.

The market at Solola was amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it-not even Walmart on double coupon day on the day after Thanksgiving. We could barely walk through the crush of native ladies doing their shopping. One guy carried a full size wardrobe on his back. This wasn't the tourist market like Chichicastinango, so we weren't hassled. There were some persistent ladies just outside the market in the park. One caught Darren as we left. He was still counting things in Honduran currency, so she got a very good price, but it goes to support the local economy, so can't be mad.

Everything under the sun was sold there. Great tarps protected the sellers from the sun. Darren held his camera at his hip and snapped away, trying to be discrete. There weren't many tourists, and those mostly weren't discrete. Darren's looking at the photos now to see if he got anything usable. I will have to remember to get him a James Bond type camera for Christmas for these types of situations.

We’re packing up now for the ride back to Antigua. We'll spend the night in our hippy retirement hostel and get a shuttle to the airport at four am. Last night was the last chance to do laundry with any hope that it would dry before the trip.

Yesterday was a quiet day. We rested up for the horrendous journey home. We did our part to support the local economy by buying souvenirs. We sat by the lake a while and watched the shoe shine boys having a high old time swimming in the lake. Darren people watched at the cathedral while waiting for a wedding party to come out so he could get a photo. It was a long ceremony and he finally gave up.

My hat is now the worst for wear - sweat stains from El Peten region, dirt spots from being rolled around in shuttles and buses. It looks well traveled.

I think I mentioned the lovely garden at the hostel in Copan. It was small, but had an impressive range of plants and blooms. I was there two days before I realized that she'd wired on big fake red blossoms to one type of plant(don't know what it was). There were enough genuine flowers that you assumed they were all real.

The reason I mention this is our current hostel in Panajachel also has an impressive garden in the courtyard and they have also included a few fake blossoms amid the impressive real collection.

We're now on the roof of the hostel enjoying the sun and a cup of tea before our shuttle arrives - no more chicken buses in the mountains.

Darren says he will fill you in on the true story when we get home as he doesn't find my posts reliable. :)

Santiago and St. Moximon

It's bloody cold here this morning. I have found many opportunities to wear my thermals on this February trip.
 
In Panajachel it's mostly about soaking up the beauty of the lake and shopping. Loads of stalls selling everything from embroidered anything you could want - including the local mens' traditional knee length shorts - to jade necklaces and wood carvings.

We didn't make the chicken bus to Chichicastenango. After yesterday we weren't excited about 5 more hrs on a bus. We may take a bus to Solola market tomorrow as it’s only one hour.

After picking up some rolls for breakfast at the local bakery for 0.30, we went down to the lake to take photos of the volcanoes and have breakfast. We, of course, shared it with the local stray dog.

We walked along the shore in search of a cup of tea when a local man asked if we needed a boat across the lake. There was one leaving in ten min for Santiago. As it was on our list to visit, we went.

There was an American woman on the boat doing humanitarian work. The poverty conditions are horrendous outside the tourist centers.

The village was larger than expected and we didn't have our guide book, so we wandered looking for the church door with an excellent Mayan carving and the Saint Moximon. Moximon specializes in whiskey and cigar smoking.

We found the square packed with local women in traditional dress. Darren sounded close to tears that he couldn't get any photographs (the local women don’t like it). They were beautiful, the embroidery on their dresses exquisite.

Told Darren I wasn't going to defend him when the little ladies got angry with him surreptitiously taking their photos, formed a mob, and chased him thru town waving machetes. He was on his own.

We gave up hope of finding Moximon and got a tuk tuk. The driver took us there. St. Moximon was an effigy housed in a dark room down an alley. There were several men in attendance and they looked pleased to see visitors. I got the impression this was the local mens' club. Darren tucked some money into one of Moximon's scarves. 

Next on the list was the Mayan door carving (which we hadn't found at the local cathedral). Darren didn't know how to ask in Spanish, but we finally came up with Mayan door at church. The driver seemed to understand when I said Mayan. He happily took us back to the cathedral, but we never found the door (later saw in guidebook that it was an alter carving we were looking for).

We were winding down. Had another cup of tea, looked in some of the shops, and headed back to the dock.

There was another American waiting for the boat to go. She was late 50s, here teaching English as a volunteer.

We'd had a busy week and this was our margarita time, so I took a nap.

We watched the sun set over the lake and got dinner at a Mexican restaurant. They were happy to accommodate a veggie burrito request even though it wasn't on the menu. Should have known it would have carrot in it (I’m allergic to carrot). Had to chase down a pharmacy and ask for benedryl as I started to itch. It wasn't as difficult to ask for as anticipated.

Back to Antigua and on to Copan Ruinas

Considerably groggy, we waded through the taxi drivers to the bus station waiting room. We hadn't prebooked a shuttle to Antigua. We thought to either hitch with the shuttle coming to pick up the other foreigners or Darren walking around the corner to the other bus company and inquire about their shuttle service.

Darren came back from the other station with the news an official taxi would take us to Antigua for 30 dollars. We picked up two other travelers going that way and split the cost. One was an Englishman in Guatemala for the diving and the other was a Romanian who had flown through 13 countries in four wks on his current trip.

The taxi dropped us all at the square and we crashed again when our retirement hotel opened.

We caught up on laundry, had lunch, and browsed through the market. It’s hard to browse there with the hard sell. Darren is off taking photos somewhere or catching up on his soccer news.

Shouldn't be any more climbing this next week.

The alarm went at 3:05. We bumbled around, making coffee with the water heater (we finally worked out how to use it effectively), and brushing teeth. We always seem to have difficulty with the complex dead bolts on the outer door of the Dona Angelina Hotel.

As we stood waiting for our shuttle in the cold pre-dawn, a snazzy car pulled up and the most slicked down young man I believe I've ever beheld jumped out. Not a hair was out of place, not a wrinkle or a dog hair on his black slacks and shirt. There was a 24 hour pharmacy next door (must ring the bell) and we thought maybe someone was ill or perhaps emergency condoms were needed. As it turned out, he beat on the door to the Dona Angelina until the attendant opened the small window in the door. Our spotless visitor was looking for a room by the hour. Despite his slick appearance, he obviously didn't know how to impress a woman if he was taking her to our hostel for retired hippies. The attendant said the place was full.

We found our seats in the crowded shuttle bus for the 6 hour ride to Copan in Honduras. We picked up a couple more people on the way out of town. The last was a young woman with a bag just slightly larger than mine. I was impressed until she turned and I could see the behemoth bag on her back; a Brit from Manchester traveling in Central America for gap year and teaching English. I know all this because she immediately struck a conversation with the one single guy on the bus and told us all her life story.

Who knew public transportation could be such a hot bed for romance, although after our experience on the China Bus to NYC, I shouldn't be surprised, but at 4 am Prince William in drag would not grab my attention.

He was an Aussie law student from Melbourne. Darren said it wasn't a flirtation in the strictest sense, but if she chattered away like that with most men I've encountered, it would be considered flirtatious. Anyway, the rest of the sleepy bus occupants were entertained by their life story at the ungodly hour of 4 am. The Aussie even mentioned that he'd only had an hour of sleep and needed a nap and she chattered on.

She finally wound down and I tried to nap, which was not really possible. I gave up as the sun rose and turned on a book on tape to pass the time.

We passed through some impressive mountains - sort of Appalachian height (not Rockies). We stopped for a break/breakfast (we'd had a cheese roll and tea while waiting for the bus). The Aussie student talked about his girlfriend at home at the next table. The romance petered out after that.

El Remate - village by the lake

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:(

Tikal at Dawn

The birds were coming alive as dawn broke over the jungle. Mist hung low around the pyramids. The howler monkeys were awake, bright eyed, etc – at least I assumed so because I could hear them roaring through the jungle. Felt like we were lost on the set for Jurassic Park. Even though we didn´t expect to see much until the mist cleared, we headed for Temple IV to watch the sun finish rising. The mist was still heavy when we reached the top, where we had our breakfast of protein bars, which are not as romantic as stale pastries like we had in Teotihuacan. We waited for some time for the mist to clear. After 45 min we gave up. Couldn´t see anything, so we moved on to other sections of the huge spread out Mayan city.

Darren kept trying to get shots of the birds, but they were too high in the canopy. We walked up and down pyramids until my knees started to creak. I Finally left the climbing to Darren. The ruins were awesome. Tikal blew Chichen Iza and Teotihuacan out of the water. It was so worth two nights on a bus, a night in a hammock, and evil birds from hell.

 

The first of the day trippers (30 people) were coming in as we left. Up until that point there were only a handful of visitors spread across the enormous site. Our heels were dragging as we came out of the park four hrs later. We grabbed lunch at a comidor and got our bags. We caught the shuttle to El Ramate, which is a little town half way back to Flores. I love riding on the local mini buses (colectivos). Most people don’t talk a lot, but loads of interesting, friendly faces and usually some peppy music to go with the ride.

The Night in the Jungle at Tikal

Darren came back from investigating buses, face shining with jubilation. He adored the market - the dust, the activity, the noise. He'd located where the buses left, but wanted me there for moral support when he used his Spanish.

We asked the first driver if he went to Tikal and he said no, those buses left from the new station. We wondered if they meant the main terminal - which was a bit of walk in the heat, but the driver had pointed to the west, not the south. We walked a block and asked a shop keeper. Darren understood something about two blocks. So we walked the two blocks and looked around. As luck would have it, a minibus was leaving the market, so we headed where it had just come out.

We found the station. A man in a straw hat offered to help us and we wondered if it was like the guy at the airport, but he seemed to be some sort of bus organizer -they certainly needed one as it was a mad house. We had to wait 40 min for the next one to Tikal.

Buses churned the dust; hawkers hawked everything from sugared peanuts to combs, to Colgate toothpaste. Darren was in hog heaven. I've never seen him happier. He even let me buy him a local straw hat.

Our friend came to get us when our bus pulled in. It had picked up two very blonde Europeans at the main terminal. They weren't very interested. One young boy waved a box of Colgate under the guy's nose, but he ignored him. I usually politely say no thank you. They loaded the minibus down to maximum capacity. You couldn't have squeezed an avocado in there. It was hot, but once we were rolling, there was a nice breeze from the windows.

Darren was still high. He even agreed to my suggestion of touring Central America in a tuk tuk.

It takes about an hour to arrive at Tikal. It's in the middle of nowhere. Then it's a 20 min drive to get to the hotels and campground. We found the campground and requested the hammocks. The man who worked there set them up - a good thing as we would never have figured them out - a denim hammock with a cotton box around it for mosquito netting. There was a secure room to leave our packs. Unfortunately, no water in the shower block. I’ve become very fond of hand wipes. May become like Mr. Monk soon.

We stopped at one of the comidors for lunch.

If you get your ticket after 3:30, you can visit the park until dark and then it's good for the next day, too.

It was a 30 min walk further into the park to the first temple complex. There was hardly anyone there - just a scattering of folks. The pyramids are awesome. We climbed one in the main plaza. Well, we climbed the ladder at the side.

We worked our way around to Temple IV. It was a longer climb. I saw a guard texting up there while we enjoyed the view of the other temples rising above the canopy. I thought I'd try the Blackberry as I'd not gotten a signal in the park.

We thought we'd left the flashlight behind, so we were sure to start back with enough time before dark.

Darren was trying to photograph a small mammal (maybe tapir) when a spider monkey startled us by throwing a branch down.

After the monkey attempted assault, we found a coatimundi subduing his dinner.

We got back to the campground as darkness fell and realized we had the mini flashlight in my bag all along. We retrieved our stored bags and tried to settle for the night.

We were sweaty from climbing temples and the general high humidity, but it was cooler when the sun went down. Surprisingly, the night/nature was no nosier than at home - a few crickets and frogs, an occasional bird. Didn't need earplugs initially, but found I couldn't sleep with the faint ding ding from Darren’s camera as he reviewed the day’s photos. The hammock took a little to get used to, but was not uncomfortable.

I woke about 11:30 freezing to death. I rolled to the side to dig in my pack under the hammock for my thermals and jacket. Not expecting to need them in the jungle - I'd packed them on the bottom. By the way, an iPod makes an excellent flashlight in survival situations such as these :) After I was done digging my stuff was strung out all over the cement pad under my hammock. If you've never tried to wiggle into thermals (excuse me - base layers) and a jacket while lying in a hammock, try it sometime - just for giggles. Strangely, I felt clammy as well as cold. I spent the rest of the night huddled with my rain shell over my legs and my spare pants and shirt wrapped around my head. No, Darren did not get a photo. Thought about curling up with Darren to keep warm in his hammock, but there was no guarantee we both wouldn't end up in a heap on the floor.

Darren said he spent most of the night needing a pee, but he didn't want to get up and look for scorpions in his shoes.

When Darren called me in the morning, I woke with an, "Aaaahhkkkk!" It was pitch black. I finally dug out the blackberry under all my stuff and saw it had been going off for 20min and the park opened in 10 min, but I'd set it wrong and we had an hour to pack up my crap.

We repacked under the flashlight and waited for the grounds man to rise to store our stuff before headng into the park as the sun was just rising.

So that was our night in the jungle in hammocks.

Tale of Two Towns and Two Birds

Where was I?

Oh yes, Santa Elena at dawn. The town was pretty humid and hot even at 6am. A bit of background on these two towns: the guide books and most websites I viewed say that Santa Elena is dirty and dusty and has nothing to offer and most people stay in Flores.

So that's where we went. As it turned out, the Burger King by the lake was just opening for business. We popped in to a)remove my thermals b)get something cold to drink c) recheck the guidebook for room options.

We were looking at 2 hostels in the same price range. One said folks can get loud getting up for the 4 am shuttle to Tikal. So we went to the other - thinking it would be quieter.

Flores is more of a tourist ghetto. 95% of buildings are hotels, restaurants, gift shops, or travel agents. It's completely empty during the day when people make the trek to Tikal. Santa Elena does lack shade, can be hot and dusty, but is alive with people going about their business.

I believe I've adequately described what happened soon after our arrival. There was no refreshing nap after the night bus.

I wanted to ask for a change of room, but we'd already trashed the room doing laundry and Darren is much nicer than I am. We finally gave up the notion of a nap and went to get breakfast. After a meal and a cup of tea I began to feel better. Darren convinced me that the malfeasant bird should be rehabilitated far far away instead of assassinated. Sometimes it's hard being married to a nicer person :) We decided that we'd just go to bed early and get up with the rooster for an early start. That felt better.

With a new spring in our step, we set out to find the local bus to the skyway park (Parque Natural Ixpanpajul) - a private park with suspension bridges over the canopy. The guidebook said the bus left from the market.

Darren immediately loved the dusty market. Many of his best pics in the past have been candids of locals, but he's been busted a few times here by unhappy matrons. But he still gives it a go--tries to be unobtrusive.

It took a while to find the buses and Darren did an excellent job asking the drivers if they could drop us off.

The skywalk park is extensive and well maintained and had the cutest, tiniest burro. The horses were well cared for. In the middle of the day we had the place to ourselves as we walked up and down the hills and crossed the suspension bridges. The solitude after the difficult morning was wonderful. Not much wildlife at that time of day, but we found a small black monkey in a tree beside a bridge. Of course the cameras came out, but Darren’s battery died. I got a few shots before he scampered off. We also saw a toucan. The walk took about 2.5 hours.

The bus dropped us off at the main terminal, so Darren asked about return bus tickets. They were significantly cheaper than going through an agent although they didn't include the shuttle to Antigua.

Our return tickets in hand, we returned to the room to freshen up before dinner. Saw a cute parrot hanging on the window grill next door. The rooster was blissfully silent. We were happy.

To finish off the day, we had the non-local pizza and beer. We returned to the room not long after dark. As we settled in for an early night - the parrot started in on his racket. It was nearly as loud as the rooster. He piped down around 8:30 and we sighed with relief. Ahhhh silence.

About 10 pm the parrot was back with a vengeance. I'd had enough. I went down stairs to ask for another room. As my Spanish is abominable - this comprised of me flapping my arms about and squawking. The night man finally gave up and showed me another room. (I can't have been the first to complain about the birds).

Had to wake Darren- yes he sleeps through anything. We hastily packed everything up - wet clothes and all- and moved to the top floor, where you could still hear the parrot, but faintly.

The rest of the night passed without incident and the rooster did not rouse us at dawn.

We got our breakfast at the Cool Bean. An interesting place near the water that has begging chickens. The local dog didn't even try to compete, but took a snooze in the bushes in the garden.

We had the morning to kill, so we had a leisurely breakfast before packing up. We hung out at the water’s edge and dried our towels on the rock wall before heading into the market at Santa Elena to find our bus.

It was already hot and sticky at 11. Darren dropped me at the local park with the bags while he made inquiries.

I got to observe local life and this is what I saw. There were very few personal vehicles. Most got around on scooters, small motorbikes, or tuk tuks. Didn't see one helmet as they all went zooming up and down the busy street, whole families on a scooter.

As I sat there, a young girl in Catholic school dress (10-11) walked across the park and gave a white bag to the man sitting in a parked pickup on the edge of the park. He'd been there for some time. He took the bag and gave her money. She then walked up the street. I wondered if I'd just seen my first drug deal. I was busily writing the whole thing down in my journal (as I've not been taking out the Blackberry in public), when the girl came back with the man’s lunch. See what happens when I'm left unattended??

So that is the story of the two towns and the two birds:)

Night Bus Guatemala City to Santa Elena

We arrived in Flores safely. Room is very nice, but the rooster next door has decided to greet us. Could be bad in the morning.

Have made inquires about a poultry assassin.

The room was perfection: private bath, TV, no bugs, very clean, ten dollars a night. I had just sent Darren to pay for the room when the rooster chimed in. I should have known to move, but hoped he'd pipe down after announcing the day, but he's as bad as FOX News in a yellow journalism loop.

We braved the dreaded Zona 1 last night to get the night bus. We had some confusion about the tickets. As we waited for the shuttle to pick us up at our hostel, which happens to be across the street from the travel agent, the agent came over to tell us that the semi bed that we requested was not available-only reclining-as Darren understood him. No partial refund was offered. We had read that sometimes buses were in the shop and you got whatever is available.

We wondered why we didn't receive any tickets. When we exited the shuttle, the driver gave us an envelope, sort of went over the info, which we didn't understand, and pointed at the Maya de Ore sign. The envelope had money, but no ticket. We approached the ticket window and passed the envelope over and received tickets.. Looking at the tickets, it seemed they were $40 for both and we stewed a bit thinking we'd been cheated - when it occurred that the difference was for the shuttle, although $60 for a shuttle seems steep. We had to wait and see what bus we got. When we first arrived at the bus station, we saw a beat up old chicken bus and thought that was what we'd be spending the night on. It’s probably time we improved our Spanish.

The bus station didn't look abnormally dodgy, but all bus stations are dodgy. Zona 1 has a bad reputation. We sat on the floor in the corner, which wasn't overly clean, while we waited to see if we were getting a comfy sleeper bus or a colorful chicken bus. The only thing we knew for sure was that it left at. 9 pm.

The double decker red bus arrived. We were relieved that it wasn't a chicken bus (they aren’t known for comfort on a long haul). It looked nice. We hadn't gotten the sleeper, but the reclining seats were do-able. I had read from several sources that these buses get really cold, so I was wearing my thermal bottoms and had a jacket handy when I prepped for our journey into the jungle.

We successfully found our seats on the top deck near the front and settled in for the 9 hour ride. As the bus started out, someone turned on a video on the little TV at the front. We both groaned- thinking it would be blaring all night. I'd taken some Benadryl and tried to tune out the dreadful (American with subtitles) film.

Did sleep, but woke up around 2 am freezing my petuddie off -even with my jacket and thermals. I woke Darren to let me up to get my rain shell out of my bag. He gave me his. We stopped once, didn't bother to roll over. Teeth were chattering when Darren woke me outside of Santa Elena where the bus was to drop us at 6 am.

When we got off the bus, we were mobbed by tuk tuk (auto rickshaw) drivers wanting to take us to Flores. Flores is an island in the lake 3 km from the terminal. We wanted to walk it as we'd been sitting all night - and really - what else you going to do at dawn in a strange town just waking?

We exited the terminal - still groggy- with 2 choices. Were fairly certain which road we came into town on, one dead ended. Sort of eannie meanied and chose one. Lots of tuk tuks were headed that way, so we assumed we were going in the right general direction.

Locals were starting to set up the market.

Pacaya Volcano Hike

Another dawn rising. We were outside the hostel at 5:50 and worried we missed our 6 am shuttle because it was late. Darren had gone up the street to get a dawn pic of the volcano that overlooks the town when the shuttle arrived. We were the last passengers to load so we got the front seat.

Our driver looked about 18. His girlfriend happened to be walking down the street and he had a nice conversation with her for a couple of blocks as the shuttle kept pace with her. He even managed a smooch through the window. No conversation from the 14 or so passengers, just some cool Latin tunes. We were in high spirits though. I decided I was going to like Guatemala.

A dog had staked his spot lying in the middle of the road and refused to budge as the shuttle whizzed by. Maybe a suicidal dog? He looked happy enough, though.

I found the hike up the volcano to be a little disappointing. Not the scenery, which was spectacular.

The last group to head up the mountain, the guide drove us up the trail like a herd of crippled billy goats - ok, maybe I was the only one to resemble a crippled goat. I brought up the rear, behind the geriatric dude – very far behind. Darren kept ushering me to keep up. About 90% up I became an ugly American. I decided that the chances of her shooting me where slim. The trail was fairly well marked. And down the mountain is down. So I was the last to come huffing and puffing at the sparse breaks.

As I said, we were the last group to leave the parking lot and we passed two other groups that were well ahead of us. There were villagers following us with pony taxis. I suspect our guide got a kick back to rush us up the mountain so we're exhausted and require taxis. I don't believe there was a need for the rush. We had two 30 min breaks at the top and we waited around 30 min at the bottom at the parking lot before leaving. An extra 20 min on the assent would have been more pleasant. Felt like I was going to have a heart attack. Obviously yoga is not going to cut it for my sole source of fitness.

The views were beautiful, though. There were two amazing volcanoes in the distance. Walking on the volcanic dirt was difficult - sort of like walking up a mountain of sugar. Closed toed shoes were essential as the rocks were rough. The guide held a handful of dried twigs over a volcanic vent and they instantly burst into flame.

The village dogs accompanied us all the way. Though many were starving, they were cute and made the most of the begging opportunities. We didn't have anything on us but protein bars that had bits of chocolate. I convinced Darren to give one to two particularly starved puppies. I know chocolate is bad, but it only had a little and they looked so hungry.

On the way down I slid in some loose gravel and sat down hard. Believe I wrenched my shoulder some. I was covered from head to toe in ash or dust or whatever it's called. Thankfully we paid for an extra night in the room even though we're leaving at 6:30 to get the night bus. Need a shower and a nap.

We rewarded ourselves with a nice lunch at the Rainbow Room after our showers. The Rainbow Room is marketed to foreigners. I usually avoid any sort of fresh fruit or veg when traveling outside of Europe or the US, but they've prepared it so there is little worry. The food was absolutely delicious after a near heart attack hike.

More information on our room: Did I mention there are no mirrors in the room? You have to go to the end of the veranda to brush your teeth at the sink and comb your hair. The black metal door does not stay closed unless the dead bolt is engaged or the padlock is on. It's currently opened to let in fresh air as I catch you all up, pack, and relax a bit.

We'll be back Saturday and Darren’s already asked for the room back. By the way - haven't seen a single bug.

Darren got pics of the room and me huffing up the mountain. No banditos yet :)

Antigua

People are super friendly here. Darren has been practicing his Spanish by discussing soccer with the check in clerk.

A bit frazzled when we arrived, we went to get drinks at the local McDonalds. It was something else. It has an adjoining cafe and walled garden with blooming azaleas- really pretty. Has a guard at the door - no gun though.

Once we got our second wind and some caffeine, we set out to take photos. Toured the square - where Darren got caught red handed trying to serriptiously photograph a local woman with a large wash basin on her head. The square was a hopping place on a Saturday with young lovers and indigenous women selling trinkets. Beautiful weather.

We were so busy having a good time that we forgot to change more money, which brings us to this morning.

The streets deserted when we unbolted the court yard doors this morning. We scrounged around for breakfast, but I needed a nap. Two days without sleep takes a bit out of you.

Post-nap was when we seriously got down to looking for a way to change money. We lucked out when a cafe owner directed us to the Industrial Bank. Could have used an ATM, but have been reading that many here are compromised.

Darren stumbled through negotiations for our volcano tour tomorrow morning and the night bus to Flores. He did a good job, but it was work.

We strolled through the local market. They have some awesome textiles here. We walked around most of the day actually. My feet are tired. Even though sun is intense here, hats are not common. Darren saw some school girls on chicken bus this morning pointing and laughing at my hat :)

We took pictures of the colorful chicken buses that are like pimped out retired US school buses. You have to see them to believe - red flames, catchy names, flash colors. This is where old school buses go to die - how is that for recycling?

Antigua is a pretty town. The houses are painted bright colors and some of the churches have been restored. Others have been left picturesque ruins (from earthquakes). Two beautiful volcanoes hover in the background.

So basically we've not been very polished backpackers this trip:
Losing our luggage, forgetting to change money in a timely fashion, ending up in a retirement hostel. But all in all, we've laughed at our little mistakes. It's added a bit of excitement to the trip.

Will be heading out early for the volcano hike and we're getting the night bus tomorrow evening. We decided to pay for tomorrow night so we can get a shower and organized after the hike, so I may be able to update in the afternoon.