Guatemala - Interesting Characters, Natural Beauty and History Abounds

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After an eight-hour bus ride from Chetumal, Mexico via Belize we arrived in Flores, Guatemala.  The ride was relatively uneventful if you don't count the constant stops, unpaved bumpy roads, lack of air conditioning and an onboard toilet that reeked after only two hours into the ride.  Further evidence that a traveler's life is not as glamorous as most people believe.

Flores is a beautiful village on Lago (Lake) Petén in Northern Guatemala.  Aside from it's natural beauty and old world charm, it is best know as a jumping off point for those wanting to see the ancient Mayan ruins of Tikal.  A two-lane bridge connects the village to the mainland and its sister-village Santa Elena.

The two villages could not be more different.  Flores is quaint, with cobblestone streets, cafes, and a wide array of pleasant accommodations.  Santa Elena on the other hand is noisy, dirty and chaotic, and generally a place we wanted to avoid.  Compared to Santa Elena and the towns we passed through in route, it felt like Flores was from an episode of the Twilight Zone.  We kept looking for Rod Serling behind every window curtain, but thankfully he never appeared.  We did not want our three days of idyllic enchantment to end.  For that, all we had to do was take a five-minute tuk-tuk (three-wheeled motorized taxi) ride across the bridge.

Even the residents of the two towns seemed from different worlds.  The Santa Elena side appeared to be disorganized with people bustling about, horns blaring and traffic nearly impossible to negotiate.  The Flores residents were laid back, quiet, helpful and very health conscience.  Every morning and evening, the locals were jogging, walking or rowing boats on the lake.  The closest its sister-village cousins came to any of these activities was watching.  We just knew Rod Serling's ghostly presence had to be somewhere on the island.

During a walk around town, we came upon an old gentleman named Miguel who offered to take us on a tour of the lake in his boat.  We agreed to meet two days later at our hotel.  He reminded me of a character in a Hemingway novel - leathery carved features, toasted brown skin, a 50s-style hat and a few gold caps on his teeth.  He also wore a huge belt buckle with Miguel scrolled in cursive letters.  I guess at 83 if he forgets his name he can always point to it.  Actually his mind, wit and complete comprehension were sharp as a tack.  Amazingly, he had only left the village a few times during his entire life, and even then had not traveled far.

At precisely 10:00 a.m. we left the hotel and followed him to his very old colorfully-painted boat.  Like him, it appeared to have been afloat a long time, and very capable of plying life's waters, metaphorically speaking.   Miguel promised plenty of in depth local information when we made the arrangements on Wednesday.  What he failed to mention was that it would all be in Spanish.  Which seemed a bit odd, as his English was considerably better when we made the deal.

We understood most of what he was telling us including the part when he took us to an island with a small zoo, and announced he would charge us an extra 100 Quetzales ($14 USD on top of the $42 USD for the boat tour) to be our guide.  I lacked any negotiating power, as we were on an island in the middle of the lake and the only way back was on his boat.  I told you the old guy was sharp!  And because we were so special to him (his words, not mine), he treated us to a return trip along the shoreline that gave us close ups of homes (including his), hostels and the jungle.  At one point we even saw a group of young girls in uniforms taking a (school) boat to attend classes in Flores.  We returned to the village and I fully expected to be charged a docking or debarkation fee, but I guess we really were special because he did not even accept the tip I reluctantly offered - we had nearly blown the budget for that day and it was only 12:30 p.m.

The main reason for stopping in Flores was to visit Tikal, an ancient Mayan ruin that dates back to the 4th century B.C.  It is the largest excavated site in the Americas and encompasses over 222 square miles deep in the Guatemalan jungle.  Our tour left the hotel at 3:00 a.m., as the highlight of visiting Tikal was seeing the sunrise over the ruins and jungle.  All of the marketing brochures guaranteed it would be both a magical and mystical experience, which certainly was not what my fellow travelers were calling it at that ungodly hour.

The van ride to the ruins took over an hour.  Many others were arriving by bus from throughout the area.  We were told to bring flashlights, as the walk through the jungle was pitch black, and the path was quite rugged and difficult to negotiate in the dark.  Aside from the voices of fellow travelers, the jungle was silent.  However, as skies lighten the jungle sounds began to grow.  Along the way we could see the outline of what appeared to be giants looming in the distance, which we later realized were ancient temples.

The jungle cacophony reached its crescendo just as we climbed the last of the stairs to the top of one of the largest temples.  The loudest of the menagerie were the Howler monkeys whose booming voices can carry up to three miles.  There were times it seemed they were sitting next to us, even though they were some distance away high in the jungle canopy.  As the sun rose a mist formed over the jungle and in the distance we could make out the statuesque temples.  Even my fellow travelers, the same ones who considered rising at 2:00 a.m. to witness this event were gobsmacked (Australian for speechless).  I guess the brochures were right - it was both magical and mystical, and an almost spiritual experience we will never forget.

Next week we are on to Nicaragua where life is simple, pigs and cattle roam at will and the surf's up.  An interesting combination, but it describes the country we saw, experienced and long to return to.  For all of their hardships through the years, the people were warm and friendly and eager to help make our stay memorable.

And remember . . . "Travel is the ultimate education."

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