Three days in Guatemala
"You can't sit there all week" said the Belizean owner of the hostel
"I don't know" I said, "I have a bottle of coconut rum and loads of ice, I don't really see the problem"
I looked over her shoulder towards the water and the horizon; dark clouds were scudding nearer by the hour. Perhaps she had a point after all.
The islands, called cayes, that lie off of the coast of Belize are a paradise for scuba divers and chilled backpackers. But when the rains come in it's no fun for beach or ocean lovers and time to find an alternative sport for a few days until the weather clears.
Fortunately both Ambergris and Caye Caulker, the most popular of the barrier islands, are just a short water taxi to the mainland and the treasures within.
I had heard that the trip to the Mayan temples of Tikal near Flores in Guatemala was ideal for a three day excursion away from my hard work testing the local rum output and burning my back on the deck of Tina's Hostel.
The Caye Caulker Water Taxi Company, aptly named, picked me up at 8am from the pier next to the hostel. It was still a beautiful morning but I knew that the weather was closing in and was happy to get on the short forty minute trip to Belize City.
Bags were thrown on board and stored if you were lucky, under the seats. The last bags on board are loaded at the back and can get a drenching from the spray. These boats generally are torpedo-like speeders with huge triple engines at the stern, guaranteeing to get through all the weather and waves that get thrown at it. It's not the number 88 to Oxford Circus!
Arrival at Belize City harbour was uneventful and thanks to a through ticket I only had to wait twenty minutes for my direct bus to Flores, or so I thought.
I had got chatting to two Chinese-American girls from San Diego who were doing the same trip and was just about to throw my bag in the hold of the bus when the driver shouted at me in Spanish and started shaking his head at the ticket I offered him. I repeated Flores! Flores! But he started closing the hatch. Different bus he said, I asked him when the bus would come, another shake of the head.
Desperate times....I pulled fifty Belize dollars from my pocket and offered it to him, he sighed, took the money and my bags AND my ticket and pushed me onto the bus!
I looked around the bus and found a good mix of travellers all heading for the same place. Comforted by the thought of good company later on I sat back as we tore through the shanty town and into the hinterland of Belize. I was happy to be on my way.
I dozed fitfully through the rolling ride and awoke more refreshed at the town of San Ignacio a major stopping off point for the forest highlands and cave tours. We passed through the town on the lower side and skirted over a very narrow and low steel bridge. The water below was rushing and swirling, it was probably shallow but I was grateful nonetheless when we reached the other side. The bus continued on through the town taking us to the hills and the Guatemalan border just a short distance away.
In the recent past this border has been a disputed area, local villagers not caring about political boundaries just lived where they lived and traded with nearby villages. To be told that they were Guatemalans living in Belize or vice-versa made no sense to them. The area is more relaxed now and problems are less apparent to the casual tourist.
Arriving at the border we had to take our bags and pass through the Belize customs hall to exit the country, not a cheap pastime! The exit taxes are steep and must be paid in US Dollars, moneychangers abound. Once fleeced, we moved on to the more relaxed Guatemalan border formalities where payment was dependent upon how stubborn you were... seriously.
I parted with the equivalent of two dollars, got my stamp and moved through the line into Guatemala. I did see some confused Japanese tourists hurrying back across the border to get their stamp. No guards to speak of were at the border and if you were not paying attention it was easy to just walk through. Getting back out again would, I am sure, have been a different matter.
We had a rest stop at the border for about half an hour to make sure that everyone has passed through without too much drama. I took the time to chat to a few others and discussed room and hostel choices in Flores. Some had made tentative reservations and others, like me, were winging it to see what the place had to offer.
All of a sudden the driver was hurrying towards me a shouting in Spanish. Oh no I thought, here we go, another drama. Not so! It seems that he had found "my bus" and had chatted to the other driver about the ticket mix up. He offered up twenty five Belize dollars back to me plus my return ticket. I guess they split the rest and as he was smiling and had got me this far I chose to accept graciously and get back on the bus.
The road meandered and twisted through the Guatemalan hills on the way to Flores. This area was, until very recently, bandit country, with occasional hijacking and robberies. The police have stepped up their presence in Peten, the local region, to dissuade these types and tourist dollars continue to flow.
Dirt roads soon gave way to tarmac, streetlights and a sense of civilization; a world away from Belize and a complete surprise to me. We arrived at the bus station outside of Flores in the neighbouring town of Saint Elena and would have to take a shuttle into Flores itself.
Flores is an island in lake Peten Itza only a few hundred metres across with cobblestoned streets, gabled hotels and plenty of inexpensive restaurants. Only a few years ago this journey would have been made by water taxi, today there is a causeway with buses, crazy death defying rickshaws and the inevitable street market.
We crammed into a several small minibuses, luggage on the roof and in the back, the passengers cheek to cheek for the short journey across the causeway. I was sandwiched between the two girls from San Diego, it was tough but someone had to do it. I had a feeling that there was more fun to come.........
Peter J Smith March 2009
