Rio Dulce to Tikal
Rio Dulce was an interesting town with an enormous bridge connecting the two sides of the town but there was not a whole lot to do on a day to day basis so we had to get out. We hired a boat that took us down the river one two hour trip to the town of Livingston. This was a town that felt different from the rest of Guatemala. The reason for this was that the people who settled in the town were the descendents of African slaves who have developed their own culture. They called themselves Garifunos, which was also a language that was spoken in the town. Arriving at the docks and freeing ourselves from the constant people trying to get a cheap hotel for the night, we headed up the main road and began to see the town.
Other than the classic shops for people like us to buy things in, we didn't see what the appeal of the town was. We walked over to the beach and tried to walk down the beach to the Caribbean sea on the other side but that was a failure. We waded through knee deep water until reaching a small beach that was covered in trash. We turned around and walked again down the main drag until we meet Phillip.
Phillip was a man who was resting on his door step and began speaking to us in english. He decided he needed to show us the 'real' Livingston. We weren't sure but he wouldn't leave us alone and so we headed down a beach as he explained all about the town and hurricane Mitch a few years ago. He took us to a small house that had hammocks on the patio and a young man cutting the grass in the backyard with a machete. I wasn't sure why he brought hear but he seemed to give us the impression that we needed to chill out and sit for awhile. Listening to his CD, playing his maracas to the beat of the CD and watching the man swing the machete was a nice diversion to the shops on the main road.
Phillip walked us through the town where he explained to us that we were able to walk through that area of the town because he was with us. He took us through the cemetery where he showed us a huge tree that he called the vampire tree, being called this because it thrives off the dead bodies. I noticed as we walked past the tree a grave stone with the sole name of P. Diddy on it. I hadn't realized that he was from Livingston and had passed away while we were traveling. May he rest in peace under the vampire tree.
The ride back to Rio Dulce was cold and rough. The afternoon winds had kicked up the water on the river and made the trip more interesting. We tried to buy some shrimp from some local fishermen along the way but the catch was not good and our driver continued with the shrimp buying lady deciding to take a nap on the floor of the boat.
Transportation in Guatemala is unique and our next trip would be no different. We found an express bus right away from Rio Dulce that claimed to be air conditioned. When we stepped onto the bus, which was an old Greyhound bus from the states, we quickly realized that we had stepped into a central American sweat house. The sun was beating down and the humidity was high and the windows were shut and the air conditioning was off. Everyone was sitting with sweat dripping down their faces waiting desperately for the bus to move. It took it a half hour to began moving, but the situation was not improving. I tried to open the emergency window next to me which helped a little but everytime we took a turn at a high speed, which happened at every turn, the window would fly out wide and then slam into the side of the bus. The conductor yelled at me but I was in no mode, more was Taryn, and so we yelled back. I think we might of had the backing of the locals in our fight for air circulation since others had begun to open their windows. Finally when some police officers got on the bus did the driver begin to drive more responsibly and turn on the air conditioning. From then on in the 6 hour drive to Flores I could watch the forests out the window in comfort and wonder why the land was being burned and deforested so much.
Santa Elena sits outside of the island town of Flores. Santa Elena did not look nice so we tried to get a bus straight away to Tikal. The trouble was that we arrived late in the evening and the buses had stopped running. We took a taxis drivers offer of driving us to Tikal which was within a national park. This was an hour drive from Santa Elena which had small towns along the way and jaguar crossing signs. We felt like we were really out in the country side now. Arriving at the Hotel Tikal and speaking with Richard who ran the place, we discovered that Rich and Lori were enjoying a nice dinner in the restaurant. We took a room which included a flashlight for when the generator shut off and the hotel went dark.
The next morning we were getting up at 4 am to see the sunrise over the ruins with Richard as our guide.
Other than the classic shops for people like us to buy things in, we didn't see what the appeal of the town was. We walked over to the beach and tried to walk down the beach to the Caribbean sea on the other side but that was a failure. We waded through knee deep water until reaching a small beach that was covered in trash. We turned around and walked again down the main drag until we meet Phillip.
Phillip was a man who was resting on his door step and began speaking to us in english. He decided he needed to show us the 'real' Livingston. We weren't sure but he wouldn't leave us alone and so we headed down a beach as he explained all about the town and hurricane Mitch a few years ago. He took us to a small house that had hammocks on the patio and a young man cutting the grass in the backyard with a machete. I wasn't sure why he brought hear but he seemed to give us the impression that we needed to chill out and sit for awhile. Listening to his CD, playing his maracas to the beat of the CD and watching the man swing the machete was a nice diversion to the shops on the main road.
Phillip walked us through the town where he explained to us that we were able to walk through that area of the town because he was with us. He took us through the cemetery where he showed us a huge tree that he called the vampire tree, being called this because it thrives off the dead bodies. I noticed as we walked past the tree a grave stone with the sole name of P. Diddy on it. I hadn't realized that he was from Livingston and had passed away while we were traveling. May he rest in peace under the vampire tree.
The ride back to Rio Dulce was cold and rough. The afternoon winds had kicked up the water on the river and made the trip more interesting. We tried to buy some shrimp from some local fishermen along the way but the catch was not good and our driver continued with the shrimp buying lady deciding to take a nap on the floor of the boat.
Transportation in Guatemala is unique and our next trip would be no different. We found an express bus right away from Rio Dulce that claimed to be air conditioned. When we stepped onto the bus, which was an old Greyhound bus from the states, we quickly realized that we had stepped into a central American sweat house. The sun was beating down and the humidity was high and the windows were shut and the air conditioning was off. Everyone was sitting with sweat dripping down their faces waiting desperately for the bus to move. It took it a half hour to began moving, but the situation was not improving. I tried to open the emergency window next to me which helped a little but everytime we took a turn at a high speed, which happened at every turn, the window would fly out wide and then slam into the side of the bus. The conductor yelled at me but I was in no mode, more was Taryn, and so we yelled back. I think we might of had the backing of the locals in our fight for air circulation since others had begun to open their windows. Finally when some police officers got on the bus did the driver begin to drive more responsibly and turn on the air conditioning. From then on in the 6 hour drive to Flores I could watch the forests out the window in comfort and wonder why the land was being burned and deforested so much.
Santa Elena sits outside of the island town of Flores. Santa Elena did not look nice so we tried to get a bus straight away to Tikal. The trouble was that we arrived late in the evening and the buses had stopped running. We took a taxis drivers offer of driving us to Tikal which was within a national park. This was an hour drive from Santa Elena which had small towns along the way and jaguar crossing signs. We felt like we were really out in the country side now. Arriving at the Hotel Tikal and speaking with Richard who ran the place, we discovered that Rich and Lori were enjoying a nice dinner in the restaurant. We took a room which included a flashlight for when the generator shut off and the hotel went dark.
The next morning we were getting up at 4 am to see the sunrise over the ruins with Richard as our guide.
posted by Aaron @ 3:46 AM
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