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
Thursday, May 19, 2011
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!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Copan Honduras Day 1
We woke up on Thursday morning feeling fresh and ready for what Copan had to offer us. The night before, over steak and eggs, we formulated a plan for the day. We decided to hold off on going to the ruins right away. We wanted to give the ruin site our full attention and wanted to have lots of energy. Instead, we planned on going to a wild bird rescue/refugee Macaw Mountain. After working at the Jaguar Rescue, we were curious to see how other people ran non-profit animal rescues.
The hike to the refuge was a pleasant and scenic hike up a mountain road and offered great views of the town of Copan below. Eventhough it was Semana Santa, the parking lot was, thankfully, very empty.
We paid a $10 entry fee each, which included a private, English speaking guide. Great deal!
We were really impressed with the center. The enclosures were thoughtfully laidout throughout the jungle, simulating the natural surroundings. The center was located adjacent to the Copan river, which added to the charm of the place.
Our young guide spoke English very well, and even managed to add in a few English slang terms now and then. He was very knowledgable about the different kinds of birds at the center, of which there were several including: macaws (of course), two kinds of toucans, hawks, owls, lorakeets, and love birds.
We strolled around the grounds for an hour or so and even made friends with some sweet Macaws. They are such amazing animals. Although, apparently, not the best talkers. That honor goes to a type of green lorakeet -- we had a bunch living near our cabin in Costa Rica.
So after learning about our feather friends we headed back down the mountain to eat our first round of street food in Copan... delicious grilled pork and beef served with beans, shredded cabbage and tomatoes, and served with tiny, thick corn tortillas, all for $1. Amazing! We went to bed early to prepare for big day at the ruins.
The hike to the refuge was a pleasant and scenic hike up a mountain road and offered great views of the town of Copan below. Eventhough it was Semana Santa, the parking lot was, thankfully, very empty.
We paid a $10 entry fee each, which included a private, English speaking guide. Great deal!
We were really impressed with the center. The enclosures were thoughtfully laidout throughout the jungle, simulating the natural surroundings. The center was located adjacent to the Copan river, which added to the charm of the place.
Our young guide spoke English very well, and even managed to add in a few English slang terms now and then. He was very knowledgable about the different kinds of birds at the center, of which there were several including: macaws (of course), two kinds of toucans, hawks, owls, lorakeets, and love birds.
We strolled around the grounds for an hour or so and even made friends with some sweet Macaws. They are such amazing animals. Although, apparently, not the best talkers. That honor goes to a type of green lorakeet -- we had a bunch living near our cabin in Costa Rica.
So after learning about our feather friends we headed back down the mountain to eat our first round of street food in Copan... delicious grilled pork and beef served with beans, shredded cabbage and tomatoes, and served with tiny, thick corn tortillas, all for $1. Amazing! We went to bed early to prepare for big day at the ruins.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
The best laid plans of Chris and Joy
We got up early that Tuesday morning to catch a 6 a.m. bus from Somoto to the border in Honduras. Our goal was to make it to Copan in Honduras at around 6 p.m. that night. Our travel plans were SUPER aggressive and pretty unrealistic, but we had been lucky so far. Maybe our luck would continue.
The first leg of our trip was from Somoto to the border of Honduras, only 20 kilometers away. No way that would take more than 30 minutes, right? Wrong! Our bus driver left 15 minutes late and then decided to pick up every single person on the side of the road, which added another 30 minutes to our ride. Ugh. We needed to get to Tegucigalpa by 1 p.m. at the latest in order to catch the last bus to Copan that left at 2 p.m.
It was already after 8 a.m. when we crossed the border in to Honduras. Now we needed to catch a shuttle from the border to our next destination: San Marcos, Honduras, where we had to then catch a bus to Tegucigalpa and then onward to Copan.
We saw the shuttle we needed to take parked about 100 yards from where we crossed the border. The driver was enjoying a leisurely breakfast on the hood of the van while about 20 people were waiting for him. I have really tried to be more patient on this trip, but this was about to make my head explode!!!
Finally, after about 20 minutes, Our hombre hambre finished his breakfast and decided to pick up our group. BUT after he shoved us all in, he decided the shuttle wasn´t full enough, so he waited until a couple more people ... and then a couple more people showed up before we could leave!
So, after the driver shoved half the population on Honduras on to the shuttle, we were off on our hour trip to San Marcos. We still hoped we could make it to Copan by 6 p.m.
We made it to the cute little town of San Marcos at around 9:30 a.m. We hopped off and immediately headed to the bus station to catch the next bus to Tegucigalpa. The next one left at 10 a.m., which would get us to Tegucigalpa at around 2 p.m. Our dream of getting to Copan at 6 p.m. that day was crushed. :(
We came to terms with staying in Tegucigalpa for a night. We would just catch the first bus out of the city the next morning and get to Copan before lunch. ¡Nunca problema!
The bus ride to Tegucigalpa was long and stressful, but we were at least on a big bus with A.C. Lots of questions raced through our heads... What if there was no bus to Copan for the rest of the week? What if we had to stay in Teguc for all of Semana Santa??
We had heard that Tegucigalpa was crappy place, but it was more than crappy. Smog ominously settled over the haphazardly built city as we drove down through the surrounding mountains. Traffic at mid-day was like L.A. but scarier Our bus pulled into what looked like a street but there were so many buses, cars and vendors scattered every which way, who knew if it was a street of parking lot.
We grabbed our bags, hopped off the bus, and looked for the oldest cabby we could find.
We found an elderly gentleman with a limp and barely any teeth to take us to the big bus station. We asked about buses to Copan and he just kept asking if we had a reservation. Uh oh.
So we get to the bus station and there was no line. Yes! We headed to the counter and asked for two tickets to Copan early the next morning. The kid selling tickets tells us there is no bus. Okay, no bus in the morning we think. We ask him if there is one in the afternoon. Nope. Okay. Panic is setting in. When is there a bus, we ask him?? There is NO bus to Copan for the rest of the week! Crap. It was happening!
We scrambled to come up with plan B. We decided to buy tickets to San Pedro, Honduras, and once in San Pedro, we would try and buy tickets to Copan. There was no guarantee that tickets to Copan would even be available, but we had to try. Oh, by the way, San Pedro has the title of being the HIV/AIDS capital of Central America, and has one of the highest crime rates and gang problems of any city in Central America. Sounds like a swell place to spend a few nights, no?
We bought our over-priced first-class tickets to San Pedro and walked out of the bus station, heads down, and nerves shot, into the terrifying streets of Tegucigalpa.
I love cities. Really. I want to give every place I go a chance before I judge it, but the area we were in in Teguc was terrifying, dirty, and ugly. Even in broad daylight I felt vulnerable walking around. People starred at us. We stuck out like terrified white sore thumbs with giant backpacks.
We scurried about looking for a decent place to stay, and settled on a hotel based on the recommendation of a local coconut vendor. The place wasn´t bad, if you could get past the bars on the window and bullet proof glass surrounding the convience store next door.
We hunkered down in our room after making a run for a diner two doors down the road for dinner. It was only 7 p.m. but we just wanted to go to bed, wake up and get our stressful journey over with.
We made our way out of our hotel room at 7 a.m. to head to the station for our 8 a.m. bus, when we opened the hotel door, we were greeted by hundreds of people waiting for buses that were crammed onto the street in front of our hotel. People were yelling, cars were honking, it was getting ugly. So much for it being Holy Week! We put our heads down and plowed through the crowds.
We had no problems getting our expensive bus to Copan. I guess sometimes it does pay to buy the more expensive bus ticket.
We tried to enjoy our 4-hour luxury ride in our bus with AC, movies and snacks along the way, but we were troubled by our unknown traveling future.
As we headed into San Pedro we became more anxious. Time to put on our game face.
The San Pedro bus station was HUGE and intimidating. Hundreds of people were waiting in large masses that were apparently lines to buy tickets. Everyone was shouting and trying to shove closer to the ticket window. We were the only gringos in sight, too. This was not looking good.
We finally found a ticket window selling tickets to Copan, and thankfully, there were NO people! We bought two tickets to Copan before the woman behind the counter changed her mind and told us she was sorry but buses to Copan were all sold out.
We grabbed our tickets and held on to them like Charlie held on to his Golden ticket. We had two hours to wait, which gave us a small taste of Sand Pedro. Glad we were leaving!
We posted up by the area where our bus would be arriving about 30 minutes before our departure. We met a couple of terrified young guys who were traveling to Copan as well. They were very thankful to find some other backpackers! We stuck together and waited to see what kind of bus we´d be riding in. We prayed for a tourist bus but knew better. A chicken bus rounded the corner toward the station and everyone around us surged toward the waiting area. Chris and I were not messing around. We were getting a seat, damnit. I didn´t care who I had to push out of the way!
We had strategically placed ourselves at the front of the group and the minute the bus doors opened, I pushed my way through. I sadly had to push and old woman holding a kid out of the way, someone elbowed me in the ribs, but still we pushed. Everyone was laughing, which made the whole scene comical rather than troubling, fortunately. As I finally made my way up the bus steps, the girl in front of me fell and couldn´t get up. I grabbed her and picked her up and pushed. She scrambled up, and grabbed the nearest seat. Chris was way behind me, but I pushed my way through, grabbed a seat, and through my bag down to save a spot for Chris. Yes! I did it. We didn´t get screwed out of a seat like usual.
After all the pushing was through, and everyone had made it on the bus, we looked around and ... everyone had a seat. Everyone. Why the hell were we pushing?! Hilarious.
So we had made it over several hurdles and were on our way to Copan. FINALLY. We didn´t care that we were on a crowded sweaty school bus, at least we were on our way.
Spirits were high and the scenery was beautiful as we made our way into North Central Honduras. Chris and I had almost forgotten that we had NO place to stay when we actually got to Copan. Shit. We grabbed our guide book and picked out a few promising places to stay. One of them had to have availability even during Semana Santa.
About an hour away from Copan the sky turned black and clouds started to churn. A light rain started to fall. After about 30 minutes the light drizzle turned into a down pour. As we pulled up to the bus stop in Copan, it was a full-on torrential down pour.
It was pouring down rain, we were in a strange town at night, and we had no place to stay. Perfect!
We grabbed bags and started to run toward the center of town where all the hotels were located. As we approached the town center, our stomachs. dropped. People were pouring out of hotel doors. Everyone was trying to get a room. Now things were really bad. Were we going to have to spend the night in a park??? As we were running around frantically, a small man in a poncho approached us and told us to follow him. The poor guy had barely any teeth and managed to emit and odor even during a rain storm, but still, we followed him. What other choice did we have?
I was a little freaked out when he took us down a dark cobblestone road, but as continued we headed toward a building with large wooden arched gates as an entry way. We ran through the entry way, and were greeted by a row of perfectly nice little hotel rooms. Two other girls were trying to bargain for a room. The owner new he had the advantage. They sadly couldn´t afford the room, but Chris and I didn´t care what he was going to charge, we were gonna pay!
The owner asked for $35 but bargained him down to $28 a night. We grabbed the key, through down our bags, and fell onto our bed. YES. We made it!!!
We were starving and the owner recommended a good restaurant down the road. We happily ran out to grab money and some food. As we walked down the road, suddenly everything went dark. A power outage... very typical, but not ideal at this time. We had $2 to our name and needed cash badly. Of course now none of the ATMs would be working without electricity. I wanted to sit and cry.
We continued to scurry about trying to figure out what to do, when finally the lights came back on. We grabbed cash from an ATM and headed out quickly to grab some grub. By the time we made it to the restaurant, the electricity had gone out again, but no worries. We enjoyed a nice candlelit dinner that first night in Copan. Our traveling adventures to Copan had wiped us out, so we headed back early to our hotel for a hot shower, clean bed, and cable t.v.
The first leg of our trip was from Somoto to the border of Honduras, only 20 kilometers away. No way that would take more than 30 minutes, right? Wrong! Our bus driver left 15 minutes late and then decided to pick up every single person on the side of the road, which added another 30 minutes to our ride. Ugh. We needed to get to Tegucigalpa by 1 p.m. at the latest in order to catch the last bus to Copan that left at 2 p.m.
It was already after 8 a.m. when we crossed the border in to Honduras. Now we needed to catch a shuttle from the border to our next destination: San Marcos, Honduras, where we had to then catch a bus to Tegucigalpa and then onward to Copan.
We saw the shuttle we needed to take parked about 100 yards from where we crossed the border. The driver was enjoying a leisurely breakfast on the hood of the van while about 20 people were waiting for him. I have really tried to be more patient on this trip, but this was about to make my head explode!!!
Finally, after about 20 minutes, Our hombre hambre finished his breakfast and decided to pick up our group. BUT after he shoved us all in, he decided the shuttle wasn´t full enough, so he waited until a couple more people ... and then a couple more people showed up before we could leave!
So, after the driver shoved half the population on Honduras on to the shuttle, we were off on our hour trip to San Marcos. We still hoped we could make it to Copan by 6 p.m.
We made it to the cute little town of San Marcos at around 9:30 a.m. We hopped off and immediately headed to the bus station to catch the next bus to Tegucigalpa. The next one left at 10 a.m., which would get us to Tegucigalpa at around 2 p.m. Our dream of getting to Copan at 6 p.m. that day was crushed. :(
We came to terms with staying in Tegucigalpa for a night. We would just catch the first bus out of the city the next morning and get to Copan before lunch. ¡Nunca problema!
The bus ride to Tegucigalpa was long and stressful, but we were at least on a big bus with A.C. Lots of questions raced through our heads... What if there was no bus to Copan for the rest of the week? What if we had to stay in Teguc for all of Semana Santa??
We had heard that Tegucigalpa was crappy place, but it was more than crappy. Smog ominously settled over the haphazardly built city as we drove down through the surrounding mountains. Traffic at mid-day was like L.A. but scarier Our bus pulled into what looked like a street but there were so many buses, cars and vendors scattered every which way, who knew if it was a street of parking lot.
We grabbed our bags, hopped off the bus, and looked for the oldest cabby we could find.
We found an elderly gentleman with a limp and barely any teeth to take us to the big bus station. We asked about buses to Copan and he just kept asking if we had a reservation. Uh oh.
So we get to the bus station and there was no line. Yes! We headed to the counter and asked for two tickets to Copan early the next morning. The kid selling tickets tells us there is no bus. Okay, no bus in the morning we think. We ask him if there is one in the afternoon. Nope. Okay. Panic is setting in. When is there a bus, we ask him?? There is NO bus to Copan for the rest of the week! Crap. It was happening!
We scrambled to come up with plan B. We decided to buy tickets to San Pedro, Honduras, and once in San Pedro, we would try and buy tickets to Copan. There was no guarantee that tickets to Copan would even be available, but we had to try. Oh, by the way, San Pedro has the title of being the HIV/AIDS capital of Central America, and has one of the highest crime rates and gang problems of any city in Central America. Sounds like a swell place to spend a few nights, no?
We bought our over-priced first-class tickets to San Pedro and walked out of the bus station, heads down, and nerves shot, into the terrifying streets of Tegucigalpa.
I love cities. Really. I want to give every place I go a chance before I judge it, but the area we were in in Teguc was terrifying, dirty, and ugly. Even in broad daylight I felt vulnerable walking around. People starred at us. We stuck out like terrified white sore thumbs with giant backpacks.
We scurried about looking for a decent place to stay, and settled on a hotel based on the recommendation of a local coconut vendor. The place wasn´t bad, if you could get past the bars on the window and bullet proof glass surrounding the convience store next door.
We hunkered down in our room after making a run for a diner two doors down the road for dinner. It was only 7 p.m. but we just wanted to go to bed, wake up and get our stressful journey over with.
We made our way out of our hotel room at 7 a.m. to head to the station for our 8 a.m. bus, when we opened the hotel door, we were greeted by hundreds of people waiting for buses that were crammed onto the street in front of our hotel. People were yelling, cars were honking, it was getting ugly. So much for it being Holy Week! We put our heads down and plowed through the crowds.
We had no problems getting our expensive bus to Copan. I guess sometimes it does pay to buy the more expensive bus ticket.
We tried to enjoy our 4-hour luxury ride in our bus with AC, movies and snacks along the way, but we were troubled by our unknown traveling future.
As we headed into San Pedro we became more anxious. Time to put on our game face.
The San Pedro bus station was HUGE and intimidating. Hundreds of people were waiting in large masses that were apparently lines to buy tickets. Everyone was shouting and trying to shove closer to the ticket window. We were the only gringos in sight, too. This was not looking good.
We finally found a ticket window selling tickets to Copan, and thankfully, there were NO people! We bought two tickets to Copan before the woman behind the counter changed her mind and told us she was sorry but buses to Copan were all sold out.
We grabbed our tickets and held on to them like Charlie held on to his Golden ticket. We had two hours to wait, which gave us a small taste of Sand Pedro. Glad we were leaving!
We posted up by the area where our bus would be arriving about 30 minutes before our departure. We met a couple of terrified young guys who were traveling to Copan as well. They were very thankful to find some other backpackers! We stuck together and waited to see what kind of bus we´d be riding in. We prayed for a tourist bus but knew better. A chicken bus rounded the corner toward the station and everyone around us surged toward the waiting area. Chris and I were not messing around. We were getting a seat, damnit. I didn´t care who I had to push out of the way!
We had strategically placed ourselves at the front of the group and the minute the bus doors opened, I pushed my way through. I sadly had to push and old woman holding a kid out of the way, someone elbowed me in the ribs, but still we pushed. Everyone was laughing, which made the whole scene comical rather than troubling, fortunately. As I finally made my way up the bus steps, the girl in front of me fell and couldn´t get up. I grabbed her and picked her up and pushed. She scrambled up, and grabbed the nearest seat. Chris was way behind me, but I pushed my way through, grabbed a seat, and through my bag down to save a spot for Chris. Yes! I did it. We didn´t get screwed out of a seat like usual.
After all the pushing was through, and everyone had made it on the bus, we looked around and ... everyone had a seat. Everyone. Why the hell were we pushing?! Hilarious.
So we had made it over several hurdles and were on our way to Copan. FINALLY. We didn´t care that we were on a crowded sweaty school bus, at least we were on our way.
Spirits were high and the scenery was beautiful as we made our way into North Central Honduras. Chris and I had almost forgotten that we had NO place to stay when we actually got to Copan. Shit. We grabbed our guide book and picked out a few promising places to stay. One of them had to have availability even during Semana Santa.
About an hour away from Copan the sky turned black and clouds started to churn. A light rain started to fall. After about 30 minutes the light drizzle turned into a down pour. As we pulled up to the bus stop in Copan, it was a full-on torrential down pour.
It was pouring down rain, we were in a strange town at night, and we had no place to stay. Perfect!
We grabbed bags and started to run toward the center of town where all the hotels were located. As we approached the town center, our stomachs. dropped. People were pouring out of hotel doors. Everyone was trying to get a room. Now things were really bad. Were we going to have to spend the night in a park??? As we were running around frantically, a small man in a poncho approached us and told us to follow him. The poor guy had barely any teeth and managed to emit and odor even during a rain storm, but still, we followed him. What other choice did we have?
I was a little freaked out when he took us down a dark cobblestone road, but as continued we headed toward a building with large wooden arched gates as an entry way. We ran through the entry way, and were greeted by a row of perfectly nice little hotel rooms. Two other girls were trying to bargain for a room. The owner new he had the advantage. They sadly couldn´t afford the room, but Chris and I didn´t care what he was going to charge, we were gonna pay!
The owner asked for $35 but bargained him down to $28 a night. We grabbed the key, through down our bags, and fell onto our bed. YES. We made it!!!
We were starving and the owner recommended a good restaurant down the road. We happily ran out to grab money and some food. As we walked down the road, suddenly everything went dark. A power outage... very typical, but not ideal at this time. We had $2 to our name and needed cash badly. Of course now none of the ATMs would be working without electricity. I wanted to sit and cry.
We continued to scurry about trying to figure out what to do, when finally the lights came back on. We grabbed cash from an ATM and headed out quickly to grab some grub. By the time we made it to the restaurant, the electricity had gone out again, but no worries. We enjoyed a nice candlelit dinner that first night in Copan. Our traveling adventures to Copan had wiped us out, so we headed back early to our hotel for a hot shower, clean bed, and cable t.v.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Somoto Canyon
Once again, we are slacking on updating our blog. But one day we´ll get completely caught up... hopefully before we make it back to S.D.!
Sooo... where was I in my last post? Hmmmm... Oh, yes, Our crazy night in Esteli and on to Somoto...
From Esteli we were heading to the farther north-west part of Nicaragua to a tiny town called Somoto, which is famed for the large canyon outside the town. Apparently the canyon wasn´t discovered by outsiders until 2004. Crazy! Now it´s a big attraction for visitors. People generally day trip from Esteli to take a 3 or 4 hour trek, swim, cliff jump, and take a lancha tour of the canyon. We opted to spend a few nights in the town, to get a better feel for the area.
We caught a midmorning bus from Esteli and made it to Somoto before 3 p.m. We were totally spent after our late night and just wanted to find a nice place to lie our heads. We found a cute and rustic family run hotel, grabbed a bite to eat, and then hunkered down for some dubbed tv and a early night sleep. We had set up a canyon tour for the following morning and wanted to be well rested.
We were picked up at our hotel the next morning at the very reasonable hour of 8:30. We were met by our guide Francisco.
The twenty-minute ride to the canyon was beautiful. I was still shocked that the place had not been discovered by people outside the area until 2004 -- it was huge!
We started our hike from Fransico´s house, which bordered the canyon park. The hike was way easier than we had imagined. Within 30 minutes we were at the river´s edge where we put our backpacks in a waterproof case that guides carried, and then hopped in the water and switched back and forth from swimming and scurrying across big boulders in shallow areas.
The canyon was spectacular. The water was a dark jade color, and the entire area was amazingly clean. We didn´t see too much wildlife, except for a few fish and an awesome, giant jumping spider that didn´t bite, of course, but our guides did talk about some mystery bird that, legend says, steals women and children and brings them to it´s nest... that´s what we understood based on our limited Spanish at least!
Anyhow, we had a blast traveling through the winding canyon walls, jumping in pools and taking in the spectacular scenery above. We had the opportunity to cliff jump in one area. I opted for the wussy jump of 2 meters. Chris, of course, went for the 6 or 7 meter jump. The guides were very very impressed!
After a couple hours of canyoning we were kind of cold and waterlogged, and low and behold waiting for us was a lancha! We gladly hopped in the little boat, which took us farther down the river to a nice little picnic spot on the river´s edge.
From there, we had to hooof it back to Francisco´s house. This hike was a bit more difficult than the hike in, but we did get to see some beautiful ranch land... we made it back to Francisco´s house after an hour hike in the sun. We were ready for a shower, a cold beverage and maybe a nap!
We had to wait about an hour for a cab, which made us even hotter and more tired. A shower sounded amazing! Unfortunately when we got to our hotel, no hay agua! What are you going to do though? We´ve learned that elecricity and running water are a priviledge and not something to count on a daily basis.
We forewent our showers and headed into to town to find a bakery that made a treat for which Somoto is renowned worldwide: rosquillos, small cracker/cookies made with a local cheese and sometimes with dried fruit on top.
We meandered through the cobble stones streets and were greeted with a friendly buenas from elderly couples sitting on stoops, and cowboys in ten gallon hats and boots parked their caballos alongside tuktuks. We liked Somoto.
We found the little bakery on the outskirts of town. It was a mini factory where two girls were filtering the finished cookies along some kind of mesh screen... no clue what this did... the girls offered us two samples, one of the cheese only crackers and one with a dried fruit on top. The first was a small hard donut shaped cracker tasted like a stale gold fish cracker. Bleh. The second, was a thinner cracker with a small piece of tamarin (?) fruit on top. At first we weren´t sold on it, but after a couple more tries, we were hooked. We bought a bag of twenty that would last less than a day. hehe.
After our little excursion through town, we were finally able to shower up and take a quick rest. After cleaning up, we took one more stroll through town. We visited a beautiful, beautiful park in the center of town. It could have been in a big city in the U.S... a cobble stone path led visitors through perfectly manicured gardens surrounded by raught iron fences, all which centered around a beautiful bubbling fountain. Again, we liked Somoto!
Directly outside of the park was a giant stone church, and when we left the park gate, directly above the church was a magnificent, orange full moon. Wow. I wish I could´ve have taken a picture!
We topped off our last evening with dinner across the street from our hotel... decent food with flavor, which was cool. We once again headed to bed early in preperation for an early and LONG day of travel... if only we had known how long it would really be!
Sooo... where was I in my last post? Hmmmm... Oh, yes, Our crazy night in Esteli and on to Somoto...
From Esteli we were heading to the farther north-west part of Nicaragua to a tiny town called Somoto, which is famed for the large canyon outside the town. Apparently the canyon wasn´t discovered by outsiders until 2004. Crazy! Now it´s a big attraction for visitors. People generally day trip from Esteli to take a 3 or 4 hour trek, swim, cliff jump, and take a lancha tour of the canyon. We opted to spend a few nights in the town, to get a better feel for the area.
We caught a midmorning bus from Esteli and made it to Somoto before 3 p.m. We were totally spent after our late night and just wanted to find a nice place to lie our heads. We found a cute and rustic family run hotel, grabbed a bite to eat, and then hunkered down for some dubbed tv and a early night sleep. We had set up a canyon tour for the following morning and wanted to be well rested.
We were picked up at our hotel the next morning at the very reasonable hour of 8:30. We were met by our guide Francisco.
The twenty-minute ride to the canyon was beautiful. I was still shocked that the place had not been discovered by people outside the area until 2004 -- it was huge!
We started our hike from Fransico´s house, which bordered the canyon park. The hike was way easier than we had imagined. Within 30 minutes we were at the river´s edge where we put our backpacks in a waterproof case that guides carried, and then hopped in the water and switched back and forth from swimming and scurrying across big boulders in shallow areas.
The canyon was spectacular. The water was a dark jade color, and the entire area was amazingly clean. We didn´t see too much wildlife, except for a few fish and an awesome, giant jumping spider that didn´t bite, of course, but our guides did talk about some mystery bird that, legend says, steals women and children and brings them to it´s nest... that´s what we understood based on our limited Spanish at least!
Anyhow, we had a blast traveling through the winding canyon walls, jumping in pools and taking in the spectacular scenery above. We had the opportunity to cliff jump in one area. I opted for the wussy jump of 2 meters. Chris, of course, went for the 6 or 7 meter jump. The guides were very very impressed!
After a couple hours of canyoning we were kind of cold and waterlogged, and low and behold waiting for us was a lancha! We gladly hopped in the little boat, which took us farther down the river to a nice little picnic spot on the river´s edge.
From there, we had to hooof it back to Francisco´s house. This hike was a bit more difficult than the hike in, but we did get to see some beautiful ranch land... we made it back to Francisco´s house after an hour hike in the sun. We were ready for a shower, a cold beverage and maybe a nap!
We had to wait about an hour for a cab, which made us even hotter and more tired. A shower sounded amazing! Unfortunately when we got to our hotel, no hay agua! What are you going to do though? We´ve learned that elecricity and running water are a priviledge and not something to count on a daily basis.
We forewent our showers and headed into to town to find a bakery that made a treat for which Somoto is renowned worldwide: rosquillos, small cracker/cookies made with a local cheese and sometimes with dried fruit on top.
We meandered through the cobble stones streets and were greeted with a friendly buenas from elderly couples sitting on stoops, and cowboys in ten gallon hats and boots parked their caballos alongside tuktuks. We liked Somoto.
We found the little bakery on the outskirts of town. It was a mini factory where two girls were filtering the finished cookies along some kind of mesh screen... no clue what this did... the girls offered us two samples, one of the cheese only crackers and one with a dried fruit on top. The first was a small hard donut shaped cracker tasted like a stale gold fish cracker. Bleh. The second, was a thinner cracker with a small piece of tamarin (?) fruit on top. At first we weren´t sold on it, but after a couple more tries, we were hooked. We bought a bag of twenty that would last less than a day. hehe.
After our little excursion through town, we were finally able to shower up and take a quick rest. After cleaning up, we took one more stroll through town. We visited a beautiful, beautiful park in the center of town. It could have been in a big city in the U.S... a cobble stone path led visitors through perfectly manicured gardens surrounded by raught iron fences, all which centered around a beautiful bubbling fountain. Again, we liked Somoto!
Directly outside of the park was a giant stone church, and when we left the park gate, directly above the church was a magnificent, orange full moon. Wow. I wish I could´ve have taken a picture!
We topped off our last evening with dinner across the street from our hotel... decent food with flavor, which was cool. We once again headed to bed early in preperation for an early and LONG day of travel... if only we had known how long it would really be!
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