After Semuc we headed to the colonial town of Antigua. As most guide books point out, Antigua is not a traditional Guatemalan town. With it's pristine cobblestone streets, old churches and Spanish-style architecture, the city is very European. The steam-shrouded volcanoes in the distance remind you that you're in Central America.
We were spending two nights in Antigua. We had no plans, really. Just explore. Relax. Most people visit the volcanoes but the weather wasn't that great and I was exhausted. I think the constant traveling was wearing me down, so I ended up sleeping almost an entire day.
A Canadian school teacher named Melanie who we had met in Semuc joined us in Antigua. She was really sweet and it was nice to have a new friend. She was meeting another girl there who would be traveling with her. What fun.
Unfortunately, poor Melanie had eaten rogue street fruit and had the dreaded Central America gut rot. She couldn't leave the toilet let alone pal around with us. We didn't see her for the rest of the trip and found out later that she went home a week early. Poor thing. Lesson learned. DO NOT eat street fruit. Stick to street meat and street cheese and you'll be fine!
So... Antigua... we lounged around... took pictures.... ate amazing homemade banana bread and Indian food!
After day three we headed to Lake Atitlan.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Semuc Champay, Guatemala
After spending three days relaxing and recovering from Mirador, we were moving on. This was the last time we'd see our friends Bjornar and Hege, which sucked. We had traveled with them off and on for our entire trip, and now we were on our own. We knew it wouldn't be the last time we would see them... we're thinking Norway 2012!
So... we were heading to Semuc Champay, touted as the most beautiful place in Guatemala. Semuc was about a 7-hour drive so we splurged on a private shuttle. The ride was very long and there was a mom, daughter and son who talked (complained) the entire ride. My headached. I wondered what was worse: this or being in a jam-packed school bus?
As usual, we hadn't booked a room. Neither had most of the people on the shuttle. Everyone was chattering about where to stay.. How much did places cost? Were they safe? It was stressing me out! We asked our driver to drop us off at a hostel/lodge where we thought might have rooms. He told us that there was no way they would have availability. Whatever. We asked him to drop us off... along came the annoying family and two other people.
Of course the place had tons of space. It was huge. Bigger than anywhere we'd stayed during the rest of our trip. It was a series of 50 cabins (some were dorm rooms) located on a river. There was a massive dining hall where guests ate cafeteria style. We weren't feeling it here. What really turned me off was the burning hillsides in the area. The sky was thick with smoke because of the clear cutting burning being done. It was depressing and ugly.
The draw of Semuc Champay is a series of small pools located under a limestone bridge. Pretty spectacular and pretty popular.
We scheduled a tour for the morning after we arrived. Originally there were only four people signed up, but by the time we left there were 18. In addition to visiting the pools the tour included a trip to a cave system where we would swim, wade, jump off cliffs and climb. Sounded cool to me.
But here's the problem: Exploring a cave system with a group of four people is an adventure. Exploring these caves with not only your group of 18 but two additional groups with 30 more people is claustrophobic and frustrating.
Minus the hords of people, the caves were incredible. They looked fake. We took turns jumping off small cliffs and lighting candles to guide our way. After an hour in the caves we headed to the pools.
The water was insanely clear. Even pictures can do the pools justice. But again, so many people. Just so many people.
So that was it for Sumuc. Beautiful pools. Crowded cabins. Burning mountainsides. Time to move on.
Next stop: Antigua
So... we were heading to Semuc Champay, touted as the most beautiful place in Guatemala. Semuc was about a 7-hour drive so we splurged on a private shuttle. The ride was very long and there was a mom, daughter and son who talked (complained) the entire ride. My headached. I wondered what was worse: this or being in a jam-packed school bus?
As usual, we hadn't booked a room. Neither had most of the people on the shuttle. Everyone was chattering about where to stay.. How much did places cost? Were they safe? It was stressing me out! We asked our driver to drop us off at a hostel/lodge where we thought might have rooms. He told us that there was no way they would have availability. Whatever. We asked him to drop us off... along came the annoying family and two other people.
Of course the place had tons of space. It was huge. Bigger than anywhere we'd stayed during the rest of our trip. It was a series of 50 cabins (some were dorm rooms) located on a river. There was a massive dining hall where guests ate cafeteria style. We weren't feeling it here. What really turned me off was the burning hillsides in the area. The sky was thick with smoke because of the clear cutting burning being done. It was depressing and ugly.
The draw of Semuc Champay is a series of small pools located under a limestone bridge. Pretty spectacular and pretty popular.
We scheduled a tour for the morning after we arrived. Originally there were only four people signed up, but by the time we left there were 18. In addition to visiting the pools the tour included a trip to a cave system where we would swim, wade, jump off cliffs and climb. Sounded cool to me.
But here's the problem: Exploring a cave system with a group of four people is an adventure. Exploring these caves with not only your group of 18 but two additional groups with 30 more people is claustrophobic and frustrating.
Minus the hords of people, the caves were incredible. They looked fake. We took turns jumping off small cliffs and lighting candles to guide our way. After an hour in the caves we headed to the pools.
The water was insanely clear. Even pictures can do the pools justice. But again, so many people. Just so many people.
So that was it for Sumuc. Beautiful pools. Crowded cabins. Burning mountainsides. Time to move on.
Next stop: Antigua
Sunday, May 29, 2011
El Mirador III
Grarg....need coffee...and their are no coffee shops open until 9 pm on Sundays in Oaxaca, Mex. Yes we are many days removed from the events of this blog, and my memory could be spotty without sweet coffee. Apologies to the reader.
Mirador Part III. Day 5 was described as an eco-trek. We were to see no ruins that day with the exception of the several ransacked grave mounds and ancient Mayan food storage holes that dotted our trail. The plan was to hike 9 hours or so to La Florida, providing only a 2 hour hike out to Carmalita and back to civilation on Day 6. Joy, Hege, Bjornar and I all took turns riding Yelmer the mule to break up the walking - muleback is the only way to travel in the rainforest.
Four events of note on the eco-trek -
1. Wild spider monkeys are cute but pissed off when you get too close to their tree. The trail we walk, occaisionally, will pass very close to said tree, and the males (young and old) shake branches, throw bark and hiss. The four of us were observing this behavior when one of the monkies threw a large branch at us. We had to dodge the thing or else be brained. We were outraged. But our mule took a sniff of the branch leaves, realized they were the sweet, sweet ramon tree and devoured the entire projectile. Probably not going to see that again.
2. Many in our group of 12 had blisters - big, open blisters - that were only getting worse with shoes. A couple folks decided to put on flip flops and walk the rest of the way in those. Comfortable, yes. Practical, no. Remember the bullet ants and poisonous snakes? Foot protection is good in the rainforest. The four of us were dawdling behind the rest of our posse when were heard a commotion up front. A girl, in flip flops, just had a "cute, baby snake" crawl over her foot, across the path and into a small bush. Our guide rushes over and explains that its a baby Ferdilanz, or Barba Amarilla. He further explains that should one get bit by a baby Ferdilanz that chances of survival are nill, even with a shot of antivenom that we were carrying. The babies dont know NOT to release all their venom on just one bite, they havent learned to regulate the venom flow yet, so all of their stores are emptied into the mouse, the small bird or the bare foot. Yet, no one wearing thongs changed into shoes. Interesting.
3. One guy in our crew, plagued with blisters and wearing flip flops, woke from a short rest after lunch to find a wasp halfway buried INTO his heel aparently using his blister as a doorway to the rest of his foot. He had to pull it out by hand, it bled some and was just plain weird.
4. So often is the case where a passion for coffee also accomanpanies a passion for cigarettes. Our lead guide, Raul,while bringing enough stores of coffee for the 6-day trek, did not bring enough smokes. His nicotine levels were dangerously low and he began searching the forest floor for butts. No success. Bjornar was walking just behind Raul and his mule (Raul always rode a mule due to a leg injury sustained in a car accident) when Raul, dazed, weary and short on nicotine, began to fall sideways off the saddle and was barely clinging to a tree, halfway on and halfway off his animal. Bjornar had to race up from behind, cradle small Raul in his arms and set him gently to the ground. We fixed his saddle, lifted him atop his steed and got to walking, while he mummbled something like "thank you, and do you have a cigarette?"
Not much to do at camp that night, save for hunting, finding and removing the hundreds of ticks that started to show up on all parts of the body. Ticks are small, almost too small to see, until they find purchase and start sucking your blood juice. Then they show up easy with cursory inspection. We were inspecting for and picking off ticks for the following two days AFTER we returned to our hotel in Flores. I picked a tick off Joys head at the ruins ofTikal 2 days, 4 showers and 6 lakeswims after our Mirador hike. Fun.
Not a soul was in their tent past 4:30 am on Day 6. We wanted out of the rainforest. We made it to Carmelita in record time, where Rauls friends had stocked a cooler full of 48, ice cold beers, in celebration of our accomplishment. Drinking beers before 9 am, after 6 days in the jungle was the best homecoming we could have imagined. That and our hotel, hotel shower and cool, freshwater lake back in Flores where Joy, Hege, Bjornar and I rested, ate and swam all the day long the next 3 days.
Thanks, Mirador.
US
Mirador Part III. Day 5 was described as an eco-trek. We were to see no ruins that day with the exception of the several ransacked grave mounds and ancient Mayan food storage holes that dotted our trail. The plan was to hike 9 hours or so to La Florida, providing only a 2 hour hike out to Carmalita and back to civilation on Day 6. Joy, Hege, Bjornar and I all took turns riding Yelmer the mule to break up the walking - muleback is the only way to travel in the rainforest.
Four events of note on the eco-trek -
1. Wild spider monkeys are cute but pissed off when you get too close to their tree. The trail we walk, occaisionally, will pass very close to said tree, and the males (young and old) shake branches, throw bark and hiss. The four of us were observing this behavior when one of the monkies threw a large branch at us. We had to dodge the thing or else be brained. We were outraged. But our mule took a sniff of the branch leaves, realized they were the sweet, sweet ramon tree and devoured the entire projectile. Probably not going to see that again.
2. Many in our group of 12 had blisters - big, open blisters - that were only getting worse with shoes. A couple folks decided to put on flip flops and walk the rest of the way in those. Comfortable, yes. Practical, no. Remember the bullet ants and poisonous snakes? Foot protection is good in the rainforest. The four of us were dawdling behind the rest of our posse when were heard a commotion up front. A girl, in flip flops, just had a "cute, baby snake" crawl over her foot, across the path and into a small bush. Our guide rushes over and explains that its a baby Ferdilanz, or Barba Amarilla. He further explains that should one get bit by a baby Ferdilanz that chances of survival are nill, even with a shot of antivenom that we were carrying. The babies dont know NOT to release all their venom on just one bite, they havent learned to regulate the venom flow yet, so all of their stores are emptied into the mouse, the small bird or the bare foot. Yet, no one wearing thongs changed into shoes. Interesting.
3. One guy in our crew, plagued with blisters and wearing flip flops, woke from a short rest after lunch to find a wasp halfway buried INTO his heel aparently using his blister as a doorway to the rest of his foot. He had to pull it out by hand, it bled some and was just plain weird.
4. So often is the case where a passion for coffee also accomanpanies a passion for cigarettes. Our lead guide, Raul,while bringing enough stores of coffee for the 6-day trek, did not bring enough smokes. His nicotine levels were dangerously low and he began searching the forest floor for butts. No success. Bjornar was walking just behind Raul and his mule (Raul always rode a mule due to a leg injury sustained in a car accident) when Raul, dazed, weary and short on nicotine, began to fall sideways off the saddle and was barely clinging to a tree, halfway on and halfway off his animal. Bjornar had to race up from behind, cradle small Raul in his arms and set him gently to the ground. We fixed his saddle, lifted him atop his steed and got to walking, while he mummbled something like "thank you, and do you have a cigarette?"
Not much to do at camp that night, save for hunting, finding and removing the hundreds of ticks that started to show up on all parts of the body. Ticks are small, almost too small to see, until they find purchase and start sucking your blood juice. Then they show up easy with cursory inspection. We were inspecting for and picking off ticks for the following two days AFTER we returned to our hotel in Flores. I picked a tick off Joys head at the ruins ofTikal 2 days, 4 showers and 6 lakeswims after our Mirador hike. Fun.
Not a soul was in their tent past 4:30 am on Day 6. We wanted out of the rainforest. We made it to Carmelita in record time, where Rauls friends had stocked a cooler full of 48, ice cold beers, in celebration of our accomplishment. Drinking beers before 9 am, after 6 days in the jungle was the best homecoming we could have imagined. That and our hotel, hotel shower and cool, freshwater lake back in Flores where Joy, Hege, Bjornar and I rested, ate and swam all the day long the next 3 days.
Thanks, Mirador.
US
Thursday, May 19, 2011
El Mirador Part II
Ahem...El Mirador Part II...after a day of walking through the ruins of El Mirador (remember to watch the Nat Geo Special, these ruins are old, they´re so old) we hit camp and heard the news. We were running dangerously low on COFFEE. Walk 135km...sure, sleep on the ground with blankets that smell of mule piss...ok, tip toe around camp at night careful not to step on one of the 3 very poisonous snakes in the jungle...not a problem, zip the tent tight to not allow one or many of the 1000s of flying bugs into the sleeping quarters...done, no meat for 5 days...simple, BUT run out of coffee...not acceptable. After confronting our guide, Raul, he explained that he too has but one passion in life, coffee, and produced two huge bags of percolated coffee. I´d never seen this stuff before, but its a step down from instant but more than 3 days walk and a 2.5 hour car ride from the nearest cafe con leche and no one was complaining. Crisis averted.
We could now turn our attention to Day 4 and our hike to a set of ruins called Nakbe, where we would have lunch, and then walk another 2 hours into the afternoon to an old Chiclero campground. (The Chicleros were the badasses back in the mid and late 1800s that were milking huge trees for their sap which was then sold for...chewing gum. They would hack at the tree bark with their machetes in an X-shape patern and let the samp run into jars.). In fact, it was the Chicleros who led archeologists like, Dick Hansen, to many of the Mayan ruins of the Peten regions. They knew of these buried sites whereabouts long before the professors, universities and archeological teams.
Nakbe was a smaller (in terms of height and bredth) set of ruins, but up on top of its highest pyramid we could see pyramids of Mirador and Tintal in the distance. We were standing atop their highest pyramids days before looking at Nakbe, and now we were able to see just how far we´d come. Awesome sight and a unique accomplishment that not many get to experience.
After feasting like vultures on bean & cheese, jelly and sardine sandwiches...sounds good, right...we hiked to the Chiclero campground. Upon arrival, both Alfonso (assistant) and Alfredo (cook) set up the tents & started on dinner, Angel´(mule handler) took our buddy Yelmer and his friends for their ramon leaves and swamp water and we milled around the coffee pot (literal pot on campfire) waiting for the water to boil. This was the routine, and we all settled down in our sweat & stink from that day´s hike. However, on Day 4, we were treated to the greatest of jungle expedition surprises...a 20-minute deluge of rain. We stripped off the clothes, danced, whooped, used the tarp over the tents to create mini waterfalls and someone broke out the soap and shampoo. Raul, Alfonso and Alfredo watched from under the tent tarp, dry, no doubt, thinking to themselves that not a one of has what it takes to be in the bush for any length of time. No doubt, they worried that one of us would breakdown, or get sick, or get bit by a snake, or bit by a bullet ant, or cry, or whatever and watching us so excited by water and soap and wet clothes, cemented that notion for the rustic Guatemalans.
Curious things happen with insect life after a rainstorm in the rainforest. We got a glimpse in Costa Rica when the insects got all crazy after a couple days of down pour. They come from all over...trees, sky, ground, bushes. The buglife after our jungle rainshower and all through the night was intensified by a factor of, I don´t know, a bizillion! We are talking a carpet of bugs of all types around the campfire and around the tents. There were so many it was hysterical, in a good way. You couldn´t avoid, we became like pieces of furniture...16 bug ottomans, eating dinner and scratching.
Rainwater fresh & dusted of creepy crawlers, everyone slept soundly that night, EXCEPT for yours truly. While Joy and the rest of the knuckleheads all dreamt of sugarplums and shit, I was jammed between a one tree root in my hip and one tree root on my neck...thanks, Alfonso. No worries, we were always up at 430 anyway, and I counted the night hours till gloaming.
Day 5 started awkwardly. In trying to squeeze myself out of our kindergartner-size tent, sliding my feet perfectly into flip flops so as not to touch the slightly damp ground, I fell completely into our slumbering, Norwegian friends´tent and, thereby, onto our slumbering Norwegian friends. Nice alarm clock - the gangly, bearded-man smash.
Another computer session comes to a close...El Mirador Part III coming soon.
Hasta la Pasta,
CP
We could now turn our attention to Day 4 and our hike to a set of ruins called Nakbe, where we would have lunch, and then walk another 2 hours into the afternoon to an old Chiclero campground. (The Chicleros were the badasses back in the mid and late 1800s that were milking huge trees for their sap which was then sold for...chewing gum. They would hack at the tree bark with their machetes in an X-shape patern and let the samp run into jars.). In fact, it was the Chicleros who led archeologists like, Dick Hansen, to many of the Mayan ruins of the Peten regions. They knew of these buried sites whereabouts long before the professors, universities and archeological teams.
Nakbe was a smaller (in terms of height and bredth) set of ruins, but up on top of its highest pyramid we could see pyramids of Mirador and Tintal in the distance. We were standing atop their highest pyramids days before looking at Nakbe, and now we were able to see just how far we´d come. Awesome sight and a unique accomplishment that not many get to experience.
After feasting like vultures on bean & cheese, jelly and sardine sandwiches...sounds good, right...we hiked to the Chiclero campground. Upon arrival, both Alfonso (assistant) and Alfredo (cook) set up the tents & started on dinner, Angel´(mule handler) took our buddy Yelmer and his friends for their ramon leaves and swamp water and we milled around the coffee pot (literal pot on campfire) waiting for the water to boil. This was the routine, and we all settled down in our sweat & stink from that day´s hike. However, on Day 4, we were treated to the greatest of jungle expedition surprises...a 20-minute deluge of rain. We stripped off the clothes, danced, whooped, used the tarp over the tents to create mini waterfalls and someone broke out the soap and shampoo. Raul, Alfonso and Alfredo watched from under the tent tarp, dry, no doubt, thinking to themselves that not a one of has what it takes to be in the bush for any length of time. No doubt, they worried that one of us would breakdown, or get sick, or get bit by a snake, or bit by a bullet ant, or cry, or whatever and watching us so excited by water and soap and wet clothes, cemented that notion for the rustic Guatemalans.
Curious things happen with insect life after a rainstorm in the rainforest. We got a glimpse in Costa Rica when the insects got all crazy after a couple days of down pour. They come from all over...trees, sky, ground, bushes. The buglife after our jungle rainshower and all through the night was intensified by a factor of, I don´t know, a bizillion! We are talking a carpet of bugs of all types around the campfire and around the tents. There were so many it was hysterical, in a good way. You couldn´t avoid, we became like pieces of furniture...16 bug ottomans, eating dinner and scratching.
Rainwater fresh & dusted of creepy crawlers, everyone slept soundly that night, EXCEPT for yours truly. While Joy and the rest of the knuckleheads all dreamt of sugarplums and shit, I was jammed between a one tree root in my hip and one tree root on my neck...thanks, Alfonso. No worries, we were always up at 430 anyway, and I counted the night hours till gloaming.
Day 5 started awkwardly. In trying to squeeze myself out of our kindergartner-size tent, sliding my feet perfectly into flip flops so as not to touch the slightly damp ground, I fell completely into our slumbering, Norwegian friends´tent and, thereby, onto our slumbering Norwegian friends. Nice alarm clock - the gangly, bearded-man smash.
Another computer session comes to a close...El Mirador Part III coming soon.
Hasta la Pasta,
CP
Saturday, May 14, 2011
El Mirador Part 1
Hola Kiddies,
It has been too long since our last blog post. My gosh, we've been through two countries and are heading into Mexico next week marking the last country we visit until returning stateside. WOW. Joy said it best the other day "I'm not ready for our trip to end!" Couldn't agree more.
However, it's not done yet, and we still have more than 30 days left on the road. Whoo hoo!
Hands down, one of the coolest experiences we've had yet on this trip was our hike to El Mirador in the northern rainforest of the Peten territory of Guatemala to a colassal grouping of ancient mayan ruins. Collectively, 4 or 5 ruin sites make up the Mirador basin and archelogists believe that this grouping of cities date back to more than 1000 BC, predating other Mayan ruin sites in Guatemala by 1200 years.
The logistics of our trek were pretty simple, 12 people, 1 guide, 1 cook, 1 assistant, 1 mule handler, 8 mules, 135 km, 5 nights and about 40 plus hours of hiking. It as when supplies (food, water) dwindled, blisters bled, ticks swarmed, alcohol and cigarettes ran out that elements tested our patience, our friendships, the trust in our guides and our marriage....just kidding about the marriage part.
Our first day out was painless, we hiked 6 hours to our first camp in Tintal, and OUR mule lugged a couple of our backpacks, extra water and alcohol sack. (A couple bottles of rum for us and a couple bottles for the guards at El Mirador.) Oh yes, that's right folks, Joy, Bjornar, Hege (norwegian buddies) and I purchased a mule for the 6 day trek. It was the best $20 we've spent on the whole trip. We named him Yelmar (norwegian name of Bjornar's dog), and he would prove to be the most inteligent animal (human or otherwise) upon arrival into Carmelita 6 days later. Tintal is a grouping of ruins about 30km south of El Mirador and marks the beginning of an ancient causeway or highway in between the two cities. Raul (our guide) explained that this causeway was one of the first highways of the world, and more than 3000 years ago would have been bleached white, with painted red sides, engraved with stone carvings and in some cases more than 40 meters wide. No small engineering task for a people without the wheel or beasts of burden to assist in its construction. We would be walking it again in our trek to El Mirador. Everybody was excited. We watched the sun set from the King's temple about 60 meters above the rainforest and ate a meal of homemade tortillas, fried chicken and cabage.
We woke up the next morning to catch the sunrise from the top of Tintal. The sunrise was goregeous and a welcome respite from the previous nights' "sleep." I was counting down the hours until 4:30 am when I could get out of "bed." Our tents had been set up on a concrete slab in the campsite, under shelter in case of rain, and every bone in our boddies felt bruised. Further our little ovens...err tents...were made for kindergartners, so even squeezing our two narrow bodies inside was tricky. And with a daytime tempature approaching 90 degrees the nighttime was still toasty. Joy and I now know exactly what it would be like to sleep on the street. Everyone took in good fun, and, in fact, our other camping mates (4 boys and 4 girls) had it slightly worse. Instead of 2 to a tent, they had 4 to a tent. Two of the other guys were 6 feet plus and slept with their heads out the tent flap only to rise with bugs and bug bites upon their foreheads.
Ready for an early start, we departed Tintal at 7 am. Hege, Bjornar, Joy and I said "good morning" to Yelmar and fed him a morning snack of fruits and scattered Ramon tree leaves. (his favorite) Raul explained we'd arrive at El Mirador at 3'30, but we all suspected that meant more like 4. Not a problem! The jungle was alive, and we all felt like we on the first expedition to an unexplored piece of the jungle with secrets of a lost civilation buried beneath. Walking the first highway of the Americas, we made good time to our second camp. There was also rumor of a bush shower available at the Mirador campsite for 10 quetzals (about $1 dollar), and after 2 days without water on the body in 90 degree heat that shower was enough to send most of us striding through the jungle at a steady clip.
The shower was amazing and as advertised, PLUS the guards were super psyched that we purchased a bottle of Queztalteca Rum, a biting, clear rum that many locals and expats enjoy to excess. We made camp and Raul got us "matresses" from the guards at Mirador for the second night. They were little more than pieces of foam from the storage barn of the main El Mirador campsite, but after the concrete we contemplated leaves, sticks and mule crap as other alternatives. The foam was great, the sunset from the Queen's temple at Mirador was a beautiful red, orange dripping down on the green jungle and the stars that night were as bright as I've ever seen. Showered and foamed we were ready for our day of exploration at Mirador.
The morning was cloudy, so we skipped the sunrise, but soon after waking and eating breakfast that sweaty orb broke through. No hiking today just a series of shortish walks to each of the Mirador excavation sites now under way. There is a great National Geographic special on El Mirador that I encourage everyone to watch. I'll hit some the highlights. The Danta Temple of El Mirador is said to be the largest pyramid in the world in terms of volume (bigger than Egypt, yes) and still stands at an impressive height of 74 meters. The main man in charge of the site is Richard "Dick" Hansen, lead consultant on Mad Mel's Apocolypto. He's been at the site since '78, excavation has been ongoing in earnest the past 7 years and only 4% of the site has been uncovered. Most still lies beneath a THICK growth of rainforest and no one knows what artistry, carvings, masks, etc. they will find as more temples are untucked from their forest blankets. The grand plaza between the Queen's Temple and King's Temple is also the largest in the world at more than 2km across. The forest bristles with life here as it makes up the largest swath of continuous rainforest in all of central america. Pressued on all sides by logging and farming, yes, but the area is still a huge sea of green with spider and howler monkeys, ocelots, jaguar, tapir, deer, snakes, lizards, aguti, coatamundi and much more all protected by environmental leaders in Guatemala and the States. From 200 plus feet, looking at the expanse of rainforest from the top of perhaps the largest pyramid designed by one of the great ancient civilations was mindblowing. We were archeologists for a day and loved every second of it.
Time is up on the computer...to be continued...as I'll detail our long walk back to civilation and the strain that a depeltion of goods and services have on those without a sturdy pack mule and their own supplies. haha.
Hasta Luego,
CP ^ JP
It has been too long since our last blog post. My gosh, we've been through two countries and are heading into Mexico next week marking the last country we visit until returning stateside. WOW. Joy said it best the other day "I'm not ready for our trip to end!" Couldn't agree more.
However, it's not done yet, and we still have more than 30 days left on the road. Whoo hoo!
Hands down, one of the coolest experiences we've had yet on this trip was our hike to El Mirador in the northern rainforest of the Peten territory of Guatemala to a colassal grouping of ancient mayan ruins. Collectively, 4 or 5 ruin sites make up the Mirador basin and archelogists believe that this grouping of cities date back to more than 1000 BC, predating other Mayan ruin sites in Guatemala by 1200 years.
The logistics of our trek were pretty simple, 12 people, 1 guide, 1 cook, 1 assistant, 1 mule handler, 8 mules, 135 km, 5 nights and about 40 plus hours of hiking. It as when supplies (food, water) dwindled, blisters bled, ticks swarmed, alcohol and cigarettes ran out that elements tested our patience, our friendships, the trust in our guides and our marriage....just kidding about the marriage part.
Our first day out was painless, we hiked 6 hours to our first camp in Tintal, and OUR mule lugged a couple of our backpacks, extra water and alcohol sack. (A couple bottles of rum for us and a couple bottles for the guards at El Mirador.) Oh yes, that's right folks, Joy, Bjornar, Hege (norwegian buddies) and I purchased a mule for the 6 day trek. It was the best $20 we've spent on the whole trip. We named him Yelmar (norwegian name of Bjornar's dog), and he would prove to be the most inteligent animal (human or otherwise) upon arrival into Carmelita 6 days later. Tintal is a grouping of ruins about 30km south of El Mirador and marks the beginning of an ancient causeway or highway in between the two cities. Raul (our guide) explained that this causeway was one of the first highways of the world, and more than 3000 years ago would have been bleached white, with painted red sides, engraved with stone carvings and in some cases more than 40 meters wide. No small engineering task for a people without the wheel or beasts of burden to assist in its construction. We would be walking it again in our trek to El Mirador. Everybody was excited. We watched the sun set from the King's temple about 60 meters above the rainforest and ate a meal of homemade tortillas, fried chicken and cabage.
We woke up the next morning to catch the sunrise from the top of Tintal. The sunrise was goregeous and a welcome respite from the previous nights' "sleep." I was counting down the hours until 4:30 am when I could get out of "bed." Our tents had been set up on a concrete slab in the campsite, under shelter in case of rain, and every bone in our boddies felt bruised. Further our little ovens...err tents...were made for kindergartners, so even squeezing our two narrow bodies inside was tricky. And with a daytime tempature approaching 90 degrees the nighttime was still toasty. Joy and I now know exactly what it would be like to sleep on the street. Everyone took in good fun, and, in fact, our other camping mates (4 boys and 4 girls) had it slightly worse. Instead of 2 to a tent, they had 4 to a tent. Two of the other guys were 6 feet plus and slept with their heads out the tent flap only to rise with bugs and bug bites upon their foreheads.
Ready for an early start, we departed Tintal at 7 am. Hege, Bjornar, Joy and I said "good morning" to Yelmar and fed him a morning snack of fruits and scattered Ramon tree leaves. (his favorite) Raul explained we'd arrive at El Mirador at 3'30, but we all suspected that meant more like 4. Not a problem! The jungle was alive, and we all felt like we on the first expedition to an unexplored piece of the jungle with secrets of a lost civilation buried beneath. Walking the first highway of the Americas, we made good time to our second camp. There was also rumor of a bush shower available at the Mirador campsite for 10 quetzals (about $1 dollar), and after 2 days without water on the body in 90 degree heat that shower was enough to send most of us striding through the jungle at a steady clip.
The shower was amazing and as advertised, PLUS the guards were super psyched that we purchased a bottle of Queztalteca Rum, a biting, clear rum that many locals and expats enjoy to excess. We made camp and Raul got us "matresses" from the guards at Mirador for the second night. They were little more than pieces of foam from the storage barn of the main El Mirador campsite, but after the concrete we contemplated leaves, sticks and mule crap as other alternatives. The foam was great, the sunset from the Queen's temple at Mirador was a beautiful red, orange dripping down on the green jungle and the stars that night were as bright as I've ever seen. Showered and foamed we were ready for our day of exploration at Mirador.
The morning was cloudy, so we skipped the sunrise, but soon after waking and eating breakfast that sweaty orb broke through. No hiking today just a series of shortish walks to each of the Mirador excavation sites now under way. There is a great National Geographic special on El Mirador that I encourage everyone to watch. I'll hit some the highlights. The Danta Temple of El Mirador is said to be the largest pyramid in the world in terms of volume (bigger than Egypt, yes) and still stands at an impressive height of 74 meters. The main man in charge of the site is Richard "Dick" Hansen, lead consultant on Mad Mel's Apocolypto. He's been at the site since '78, excavation has been ongoing in earnest the past 7 years and only 4% of the site has been uncovered. Most still lies beneath a THICK growth of rainforest and no one knows what artistry, carvings, masks, etc. they will find as more temples are untucked from their forest blankets. The grand plaza between the Queen's Temple and King's Temple is also the largest in the world at more than 2km across. The forest bristles with life here as it makes up the largest swath of continuous rainforest in all of central america. Pressued on all sides by logging and farming, yes, but the area is still a huge sea of green with spider and howler monkeys, ocelots, jaguar, tapir, deer, snakes, lizards, aguti, coatamundi and much more all protected by environmental leaders in Guatemala and the States. From 200 plus feet, looking at the expanse of rainforest from the top of perhaps the largest pyramid designed by one of the great ancient civilations was mindblowing. We were archeologists for a day and loved every second of it.
Time is up on the computer...to be continued...as I'll detail our long walk back to civilation and the strain that a depeltion of goods and services have on those without a sturdy pack mule and their own supplies. haha.
Hasta Luego,
CP ^ JP
Friday, May 13, 2011
Livingston, Guatemala and the Rio Dulce
Poor Chris. He woke up with a horrible cold the morning we were leaving for Guatemala. He had a sinus headache, a sore throat, and a fever. Boooo. Not a fun way to travel. We headed out early in the a.m. to start our typical bus hopping but this time we had to add in a boat, the only way to access Livington, which is located at the mouth of the Rio Dulce river. The Caribbean side of Guatemala, which is much different, and not as visited as the rest of the country. The majority of the people are Garifuna, descendants of people from West Africa.
We initially had planned on skipping Livingston and heading directly to a cabin in the Rio Dulce. We decided to stay a night. We were excited to get in some more Caribbean beach time and to experience the Garifuna culture.
I loved the boat ride. Chris did not. The boat slapping down on the water each time it went over a wave did not do much for his aching head. I felt terrible. We had no idea where to stay once we go to the town. We had generally had good luck finding a place on our own.
When we got to the dock we were approached by a couple of backpackers who had fliers for a hostel in the area. Looked nice enough: wifi, book exchange, private cabins. We decided to walk around the town on our own first and then if we couldn't find a place, we'd head to the hostel.
The minute we started walking into town we got a very bad vibe. It was broad daylight but the place felt dangerous. Stall upon stall of cheesy tourist crap like sea shell statues and Tee shirt moo moos (no shit) filled the streets and multiple sketchy characters asked us if we wanted to buy drugs. One drunk local guy in particular took interest in us. He started asking us where we were from and what we were doing. I ignored him. He was up to no good. Poor Chris in his sick and altered state, started chatting with the dude. Next thing we know the guy is following us, and then pretending to lead us to the hostel where we had decided to go, because we couldn't find any other options.
We were mortified that this guy was pretending to be our friend. We got to the hostel and he walks into the common area yelling and announcing he had new guests. The owner came out and asked if he could help us. The first thing he said we should do was lose our drunk buddy. NO problem. We told him we wanted a clean quiet place to stay. He told us this was not the place to find either of those things! At least he was honest.
He told us to run away while drunkenstein was bothering some other people. We grabbed our packs and fled. We still had no place to stay.
We were greeted by a drunk man passed out on a sofa in the "lobby" at the next "hotel." His young son went and grabbed his mom to show us the horribly dingy room, for which she wanted to charge us $30. HA!
Finally, we found a half-way decent place with a big clean room where Chris could crash and sweat out his fever. This place was interesting. It looked like a guest house for pirates back in the 1700s. Also, there were no other guests. Kinda creepy. The girl at the front desk gave us a key to our room, and a key to the front door of the hotel and then she left. Weird. We had the ENTIRE place to ourselves.
Oh, by the way, there are no beaches in Livingston. You have to catch an expensive boat to get to the nearest beach, and the place is a port town, which means hoards of people on cruises stop in for an afternoon excursion, thus the cheesy knick knacks, ridiculously expensive food, and sketchy looking characters looking to rob unsuspecting tourists. Honestly, this was the first place on our entire trip that we did not like at all.
The kicker? At dinner, where Chris had watery flavorless chicken curry and I had slimy shrimp, another drunk local approached us and tried to sit down at our table. We ignored him. Then , angrily, he said something to us in a strange language. It sounded like a fricking curse to us! Great. We beelined back to our hotel where Chris sweat out his illness and I laid in bed waiting for the morning so we could leave.
The next day, our luck started to turn around. We wanted to leave Livingston as soon as possible and decided to head to the docks to see if we could find the boat that would take us to our hostel on the river. As we approached the dock, we saw a small skiff with "Finca Tatin" printed on the side. The guy was just shoving off, so we yelled to get him to stop. He waved us on and like that we were leaving this weird and terrifying town. First we had to make one stop. We approached a smaller dock away from the main part of town. Waiting eagerly for our boat was no other than ... the evil curse man! He was getting on our boat. Oh man, Chris and I thought were going to get stabbed or tossed over the side of the boat. We avoided eye contact, but even in his drunken stupor, he recognized us! But he wasn't angry he just gave a chuckle and sat back. What were the chances?! Fortunately, he was just going to the hovel where he lived on a little island a few minutes away.
What a surreal experience. We made it to Finca Tatin on the Rio Dulce without further incident. In fact, the ride was spectacular.
Finca Tatin is a series of cabins attached to a main lodge and dining hall. The Finca sits directly on the green peaceful waters of the Rio Dulce and behind lies lush green forest.
We rented a private cabin with a deck that overlooked the water. We put on our suits, grabbed a couple beers and headed to the dock for some rope swinging and tube sitting. I dreamt of places like this when I was a kid. The river was calm, clean, warm, and most importantly, devoid of any scary critters.
We spent the next three days swimming, tubing, and jumping off a rope swing. I never really over came my fear of the swing. I was terrified of slipping on to the deck, or smashing my face (the latter proved to be true. luckily I suffered no permanent injuries). Chris couldn't get enough of swinging from the ten-foot life guard tower into the water below. Until he lost his wedding band. He had put on sunscreen right before he grabbed onto the rope, and when he jumped, his ring slid right off. He attempted to search the deep murky water for the ring, but that was futile.
What can you do? We were really sad, but we decided that people in the community would be searching for that ring for years. Perhaps a legend about the mysterious ring would born.
Rio Dulce, was as I said earlier, a fantasy land. In addition to playing in the river, we swam in an ancient Mayan cave and snuck up on bats living in a cavern with a giant waterfall careening into a pool below; and we had the hostel jungle dog lead us on a hike through the thicket forest to a slot canyon teaming with red bromeliads and fluorescent green moss.
We headed out on our third day. We were going to Flores, Guatemala where we were meeting our Norwegian pals and organizing an expedition to the hidden El Mirador Ruins!
I'll let Chris get onto that. One last thing... the bus ride to Flores was the worst of our entire trip. I did not know it was possible to fit that many people in a bus. The bus was made for about 75 people yet around 150 were crammed on. A man literally used a stick to jam people in. Chris and I were standing on one foot for most of the ride. Chris had his arm pit over a tiny old woman, and was unbenounced to him, sweating profusely on her. I was close to having a panic attack. I hate crowds. When two people next to us got off the bus and left an empty seat, I jumped on it. Literally. After that I refused to ever get on a bus that crowded again. EVER. (I bet I will again, but I hope not for a long time!).
We initially had planned on skipping Livingston and heading directly to a cabin in the Rio Dulce. We decided to stay a night. We were excited to get in some more Caribbean beach time and to experience the Garifuna culture.
I loved the boat ride. Chris did not. The boat slapping down on the water each time it went over a wave did not do much for his aching head. I felt terrible. We had no idea where to stay once we go to the town. We had generally had good luck finding a place on our own.
When we got to the dock we were approached by a couple of backpackers who had fliers for a hostel in the area. Looked nice enough: wifi, book exchange, private cabins. We decided to walk around the town on our own first and then if we couldn't find a place, we'd head to the hostel.
The minute we started walking into town we got a very bad vibe. It was broad daylight but the place felt dangerous. Stall upon stall of cheesy tourist crap like sea shell statues and Tee shirt moo moos (no shit) filled the streets and multiple sketchy characters asked us if we wanted to buy drugs. One drunk local guy in particular took interest in us. He started asking us where we were from and what we were doing. I ignored him. He was up to no good. Poor Chris in his sick and altered state, started chatting with the dude. Next thing we know the guy is following us, and then pretending to lead us to the hostel where we had decided to go, because we couldn't find any other options.
We were mortified that this guy was pretending to be our friend. We got to the hostel and he walks into the common area yelling and announcing he had new guests. The owner came out and asked if he could help us. The first thing he said we should do was lose our drunk buddy. NO problem. We told him we wanted a clean quiet place to stay. He told us this was not the place to find either of those things! At least he was honest.
He told us to run away while drunkenstein was bothering some other people. We grabbed our packs and fled. We still had no place to stay.
We were greeted by a drunk man passed out on a sofa in the "lobby" at the next "hotel." His young son went and grabbed his mom to show us the horribly dingy room, for which she wanted to charge us $30. HA!
Finally, we found a half-way decent place with a big clean room where Chris could crash and sweat out his fever. This place was interesting. It looked like a guest house for pirates back in the 1700s. Also, there were no other guests. Kinda creepy. The girl at the front desk gave us a key to our room, and a key to the front door of the hotel and then she left. Weird. We had the ENTIRE place to ourselves.
Oh, by the way, there are no beaches in Livingston. You have to catch an expensive boat to get to the nearest beach, and the place is a port town, which means hoards of people on cruises stop in for an afternoon excursion, thus the cheesy knick knacks, ridiculously expensive food, and sketchy looking characters looking to rob unsuspecting tourists. Honestly, this was the first place on our entire trip that we did not like at all.
The kicker? At dinner, where Chris had watery flavorless chicken curry and I had slimy shrimp, another drunk local approached us and tried to sit down at our table. We ignored him. Then , angrily, he said something to us in a strange language. It sounded like a fricking curse to us! Great. We beelined back to our hotel where Chris sweat out his illness and I laid in bed waiting for the morning so we could leave.
The next day, our luck started to turn around. We wanted to leave Livingston as soon as possible and decided to head to the docks to see if we could find the boat that would take us to our hostel on the river. As we approached the dock, we saw a small skiff with "Finca Tatin" printed on the side. The guy was just shoving off, so we yelled to get him to stop. He waved us on and like that we were leaving this weird and terrifying town. First we had to make one stop. We approached a smaller dock away from the main part of town. Waiting eagerly for our boat was no other than ... the evil curse man! He was getting on our boat. Oh man, Chris and I thought were going to get stabbed or tossed over the side of the boat. We avoided eye contact, but even in his drunken stupor, he recognized us! But he wasn't angry he just gave a chuckle and sat back. What were the chances?! Fortunately, he was just going to the hovel where he lived on a little island a few minutes away.
What a surreal experience. We made it to Finca Tatin on the Rio Dulce without further incident. In fact, the ride was spectacular.
Finca Tatin is a series of cabins attached to a main lodge and dining hall. The Finca sits directly on the green peaceful waters of the Rio Dulce and behind lies lush green forest.
We rented a private cabin with a deck that overlooked the water. We put on our suits, grabbed a couple beers and headed to the dock for some rope swinging and tube sitting. I dreamt of places like this when I was a kid. The river was calm, clean, warm, and most importantly, devoid of any scary critters.
We spent the next three days swimming, tubing, and jumping off a rope swing. I never really over came my fear of the swing. I was terrified of slipping on to the deck, or smashing my face (the latter proved to be true. luckily I suffered no permanent injuries). Chris couldn't get enough of swinging from the ten-foot life guard tower into the water below. Until he lost his wedding band. He had put on sunscreen right before he grabbed onto the rope, and when he jumped, his ring slid right off. He attempted to search the deep murky water for the ring, but that was futile.
What can you do? We were really sad, but we decided that people in the community would be searching for that ring for years. Perhaps a legend about the mysterious ring would born.
Rio Dulce, was as I said earlier, a fantasy land. In addition to playing in the river, we swam in an ancient Mayan cave and snuck up on bats living in a cavern with a giant waterfall careening into a pool below; and we had the hostel jungle dog lead us on a hike through the thicket forest to a slot canyon teaming with red bromeliads and fluorescent green moss.
We headed out on our third day. We were going to Flores, Guatemala where we were meeting our Norwegian pals and organizing an expedition to the hidden El Mirador Ruins!
I'll let Chris get onto that. One last thing... the bus ride to Flores was the worst of our entire trip. I did not know it was possible to fit that many people in a bus. The bus was made for about 75 people yet around 150 were crammed on. A man literally used a stick to jam people in. Chris and I were standing on one foot for most of the ride. Chris had his arm pit over a tiny old woman, and was unbenounced to him, sweating profusely on her. I was close to having a panic attack. I hate crowds. When two people next to us got off the bus and left an empty seat, I jumped on it. Literally. After that I refused to ever get on a bus that crowded again. EVER. (I bet I will again, but I hope not for a long time!).
Monday, May 2, 2011
Honduras Day 2 through Day 5
We got up bright and early on Friday morning to visit the ruins in Copan. The site is not as large as Tikal and does not have huge pyramids. It is famous for having giant, intricately-carved statues called stelae, and is known as the cultural center of the Mayan civilization. The ruins are a very beautiful 1.5 km walk from town, which is really nice... no need to wait for buses and you can come and go as you please.
We spent the entire day at the site and I played the impromptu tour guide using our Lonely Planet guide book. Not as good as an actual guide, but way cheaper!
Rather than try to give my own description of Copan, check out this link for more details... http://www.copanruins.com/
It was Good Friday, which is the most important day during Semana Santa. We especially wanted to see the Easter carpets. The carpets are made from colored sawdust and flowers and illustrate images related to Easter. Very cool.
We waited for a big procession or other event to happen in the square, but people mostly just wandered around looking at the carpet and eating street food. We people watched and had some more street food and then hit the sack. Wait... I almost forgot PONCHE. YUM. Before we went to bed, we bought two cups of stuff served from a bubbling pot that an old woman was stirring with a giant woodden spoon. We had no idea what we were getting, but we were sold after the first sip... delicious creamy cinnamony eggy goodness... like liquid flan. Okay so back to the next day...On Saturday we were heading to some hot springs. We did not really know what to expect with the springs other than they were hot and near a big river.
On Saturday morning we walked around town asking where we could catch a bus to the springs. We got several different answers... there was no bus. The bus only came at 9:30 and the only way we could get there was in a cab for $30! Yeah right! The 10th person we asked finally gave us a straight answer and pointed us to the correct bus. The hour and a half ride up in to the mountains above Copan was incredible.... so green and lush. We had no idea we were heading that far into the hills.
The bus pulled up to the entrance of the springs and it looked like a public park on July 4th weekend in the states. Hundreds of people were bbq'ing and picnicking. There was a scum-filled pool teaming with little kids, and people were bobbing all over the place in the river below. Yikes. Not what we signed up for... the girl told us if we paid an extra $6 we could go to the spa. Spa!? Where do I sign up for that! We gladly paid the $6 and girl lead us through a manmade cave passage way that lead to more than 20 hot spring pools surrounded by tropical gardens, statues and waterfalls. Paradise... except it was Semana Santa and the place was packed... but still beautiful!
We found an empty spring and dipped our toes in... holy crap... hotness! We managed to sit in the boiling pool for a few minutes but decided to check out the river to cool off. Chris led me down a steep, slippery path to the river where I had to walk through some mosquito filled stagnant water to get to the flowing cool water, which, to his defense was refreshing. However as we were enjoying our dip, Chris noticed tiny black and white worms crawling on him. Christ! We have learned that often times small critters are much much more dangerous than big ones. I imagined the squirming things making there way through my skin, causing me to contract some horrible tropical disease. Well, we knew one way to kill the worms, burn them in hot water. We immediately headed back to the boiling cauldron!
After our worm trauma, the day was much more peaceful. The pools ranged in temperature from very hot to very cold. They had a hot waterfall for massaging shoulders and backs, a pool filled with river rocks to massage feet, and my favorite, the mud bath.
The place was so amazing! I would love to come back for vacation when we're not on a budget. Apparently you can visit the springs at night and the place is lit up with candles. You can also get massages and facials at the spa. Ahhhhh.
Completely relaxed and worm free, we caught a bus back to town... this mini bus was so crammed full of people it was hilarious. I had a 13-year old kid basically sitting in my lap! The ride was still beautiful.
Since we couldn't make it to El Salvador on this trip, we had to get our papusa fix in Honduras. There were actually two papusarias next door to one another in Copan, so we had options. We hoped we picked the right one. Fortunately we did.
Papusas are made with thick corn tortillas and filled with a variety of ingredients. The papusas we had were served with pickled beets, carrots and cabbage. I don't really like beets, but man, was that a winning combo!
We stuffed ourselves silly on the El Salvadorian hot pockets and took a spin around town. Copan is very charming... cobble stone streets, brightly colored buildings with red tiled roofs... we were happy to have spent Semana Santa in such a special place. Oh, yeah, we had more PONCHE!!!
Sunday was Easter. I planned on attending Easter Sunday mass that morning. Really I wanted to go. Chris and I got up super early had a pancake breakfast and then, dressed in my finest clothes, I headed to 10 a.m. mass but.... the church was closed! Yes, closed on Easter Sunday. People continued to gather outside the church. Chris waited with me until about 10:45 when I finally called it quits. Totally bizarre! So instead of going to church we decided to pay an 18-year old $20 to take us to a hidden waterfall up in the hills in a nearby village. Apparently you needed a local guide, as tourists who had ventured there in the past had been attacked... not mugged... attacked. Yikes.
So our little buddy met us at our hotel and then the three of us took a bus to his village. He was wearing a polo shirt, nice jeans, and dress shoes... looked like he was going to a club... but he told us this is what he'd be hiking in!
We were looking forward to jumping off some cliffs, swimming under a waterfall and playing in the river. What we didn't take into consideration was the recent rain storms, which had turned the water in the river light brown. ewww.
There were about 20 young guys at the falls. I was the only female. I wasn't too comfortable parading around in my bathing suit or jumping off the 70 foot cliff into the churning brown pool of water below! I watched as Chris and the kids lept off the towering rocks.
After tempting fate for a couple hours, we hiked back down and caught a bus back to Copan. Chris had volunteered to try once again to go to Sunday mass with me. This time the church was actually open. The mass was obviously all in Spanish, which was good practice for us. Unfortunately, the homily went on for an hour! Old ladies were sound asleep, kids were playig bejeweled on cell phones. I wanted to weep from boredom. Catholic guilt generally prevents me from leaving mass early, but I couldn't take it. Chris and I finally got up and left.
As we were walking to a nearby restaurant after our escape from church, an American guy, who we recognized as a fellow sinner who had skirted out of church early, approached us. He couldn't believe how long the mass was either. He was a surgeon from Conneticut. He joined us for dinner, again, another reason I love traveling. How often in the States do you meet a stranger on the street and invite him to dinner? Fabulous. We said our goodbyes to our new friend and went to bed in preparation for our next adventure to a new country: Guatemala!
We spent the entire day at the site and I played the impromptu tour guide using our Lonely Planet guide book. Not as good as an actual guide, but way cheaper!
Rather than try to give my own description of Copan, check out this link for more details... http://www.copanruins.com/
It was Good Friday, which is the most important day during Semana Santa. We especially wanted to see the Easter carpets. The carpets are made from colored sawdust and flowers and illustrate images related to Easter. Very cool.
We waited for a big procession or other event to happen in the square, but people mostly just wandered around looking at the carpet and eating street food. We people watched and had some more street food and then hit the sack. Wait... I almost forgot PONCHE. YUM. Before we went to bed, we bought two cups of stuff served from a bubbling pot that an old woman was stirring with a giant woodden spoon. We had no idea what we were getting, but we were sold after the first sip... delicious creamy cinnamony eggy goodness... like liquid flan. Okay so back to the next day...On Saturday we were heading to some hot springs. We did not really know what to expect with the springs other than they were hot and near a big river.
On Saturday morning we walked around town asking where we could catch a bus to the springs. We got several different answers... there was no bus. The bus only came at 9:30 and the only way we could get there was in a cab for $30! Yeah right! The 10th person we asked finally gave us a straight answer and pointed us to the correct bus. The hour and a half ride up in to the mountains above Copan was incredible.... so green and lush. We had no idea we were heading that far into the hills.
The bus pulled up to the entrance of the springs and it looked like a public park on July 4th weekend in the states. Hundreds of people were bbq'ing and picnicking. There was a scum-filled pool teaming with little kids, and people were bobbing all over the place in the river below. Yikes. Not what we signed up for... the girl told us if we paid an extra $6 we could go to the spa. Spa!? Where do I sign up for that! We gladly paid the $6 and girl lead us through a manmade cave passage way that lead to more than 20 hot spring pools surrounded by tropical gardens, statues and waterfalls. Paradise... except it was Semana Santa and the place was packed... but still beautiful!
We found an empty spring and dipped our toes in... holy crap... hotness! We managed to sit in the boiling pool for a few minutes but decided to check out the river to cool off. Chris led me down a steep, slippery path to the river where I had to walk through some mosquito filled stagnant water to get to the flowing cool water, which, to his defense was refreshing. However as we were enjoying our dip, Chris noticed tiny black and white worms crawling on him. Christ! We have learned that often times small critters are much much more dangerous than big ones. I imagined the squirming things making there way through my skin, causing me to contract some horrible tropical disease. Well, we knew one way to kill the worms, burn them in hot water. We immediately headed back to the boiling cauldron!
After our worm trauma, the day was much more peaceful. The pools ranged in temperature from very hot to very cold. They had a hot waterfall for massaging shoulders and backs, a pool filled with river rocks to massage feet, and my favorite, the mud bath.
The place was so amazing! I would love to come back for vacation when we're not on a budget. Apparently you can visit the springs at night and the place is lit up with candles. You can also get massages and facials at the spa. Ahhhhh.
Completely relaxed and worm free, we caught a bus back to town... this mini bus was so crammed full of people it was hilarious. I had a 13-year old kid basically sitting in my lap! The ride was still beautiful.
Since we couldn't make it to El Salvador on this trip, we had to get our papusa fix in Honduras. There were actually two papusarias next door to one another in Copan, so we had options. We hoped we picked the right one. Fortunately we did.
Papusas are made with thick corn tortillas and filled with a variety of ingredients. The papusas we had were served with pickled beets, carrots and cabbage. I don't really like beets, but man, was that a winning combo!
We stuffed ourselves silly on the El Salvadorian hot pockets and took a spin around town. Copan is very charming... cobble stone streets, brightly colored buildings with red tiled roofs... we were happy to have spent Semana Santa in such a special place. Oh, yeah, we had more PONCHE!!!
Sunday was Easter. I planned on attending Easter Sunday mass that morning. Really I wanted to go. Chris and I got up super early had a pancake breakfast and then, dressed in my finest clothes, I headed to 10 a.m. mass but.... the church was closed! Yes, closed on Easter Sunday. People continued to gather outside the church. Chris waited with me until about 10:45 when I finally called it quits. Totally bizarre! So instead of going to church we decided to pay an 18-year old $20 to take us to a hidden waterfall up in the hills in a nearby village. Apparently you needed a local guide, as tourists who had ventured there in the past had been attacked... not mugged... attacked. Yikes.
So our little buddy met us at our hotel and then the three of us took a bus to his village. He was wearing a polo shirt, nice jeans, and dress shoes... looked like he was going to a club... but he told us this is what he'd be hiking in!
We were looking forward to jumping off some cliffs, swimming under a waterfall and playing in the river. What we didn't take into consideration was the recent rain storms, which had turned the water in the river light brown. ewww.
There were about 20 young guys at the falls. I was the only female. I wasn't too comfortable parading around in my bathing suit or jumping off the 70 foot cliff into the churning brown pool of water below! I watched as Chris and the kids lept off the towering rocks.
After tempting fate for a couple hours, we hiked back down and caught a bus back to Copan. Chris had volunteered to try once again to go to Sunday mass with me. This time the church was actually open. The mass was obviously all in Spanish, which was good practice for us. Unfortunately, the homily went on for an hour! Old ladies were sound asleep, kids were playig bejeweled on cell phones. I wanted to weep from boredom. Catholic guilt generally prevents me from leaving mass early, but I couldn't take it. Chris and I finally got up and left.
As we were walking to a nearby restaurant after our escape from church, an American guy, who we recognized as a fellow sinner who had skirted out of church early, approached us. He couldn't believe how long the mass was either. He was a surgeon from Conneticut. He joined us for dinner, again, another reason I love traveling. How often in the States do you meet a stranger on the street and invite him to dinner? Fabulous. We said our goodbyes to our new friend and went to bed in preparation for our next adventure to a new country: Guatemala!
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