Photos: https://linkit.shutterfly.com/zaE7OP
Belize to Guatemala, a small boat
takes Jackie and me on a choppy 20-minute ride to the small port town of
Livingston, Guatemala. We lugged our bags up a long steep embankment in search
of the immigration office five blocks away while motorcycles, tuk-tuks and cars
whiz by us among the endless poor vendors selling cheap trinkets from both
sides of the street. Like the typical Central American town, it could use an extensive
pressure washing. At last, we find the tiny "migration" office with a
solo man to stamp our passports. No questions asked. No paperwork other than
our passport. Obviously, Guatemala is not fearful of anyone desiring to migrate
to their poor country.
We have arranged a private boat to
take us on a 1.5-hour trip on the Rio Dulce River to our destination, the
Tortugal Lodge on Lake Isabal. Tour books describe this boat ride as the most
beautiful in Guatemala. As sunset is arriving, our driver stops at the
picturesque white limestone canyons for photos. Also stopping among islands on
the lake were thousands of birds roosting for the night. He points out a large,
yellow iguana roosting in a tree.
At arrival, we step onto the dock
and quickly settle into our thatched roof rooms. Next day a boat drops us in a
busy village where either Spanish or Mayan is the second language. Using Google
Translate, we find a taxi for our days’ adventure in this beautiful tropical
jungle. El Boquerón Canyon reminds me of an Indiana Jones movie (for young
readers, that's an old Harrison Ford movie). A toothless Indigenous man, with a
funny giggle, paddles us through this white limestone, boulder filled river in
his canoe while pointing out cave openings on the steep canyon walls, inhabited
by Mayans centuries ago.
Next, our driver takes us to a
thermal waterfall dropping into a cool river. We jump in to join the handful of
people standing under the falls. Imagine the best hot shower ever with the
force of a deep tissue massage. Then dip yourself into the cool pool to chill
and then repeat, increasing to a beet red color on your back.
Next day we leave our bucolic
setting for an 8-hour drive going only 197 miles to arrive in the touristy town
of Antigua. Why was our average speed only 25 mph? Horrid traffic and
insufficient infrastructure. Something to contemplate when we complain of
traffic woes in the USA as we typically drive at 65+ mph. We pass through
Guatemala City, the largest city in Central America at 3M population.
Guatemala, the size of Kentucky, has a pop of 18M, and wins honors as the most
populated country in Central America. Also, the youngest population with nearly
half the population under age 19. As I have seen in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Favela’s
(slums) occupy steep ravines within Guatemala City where citizens migrated in
the 1970's -90's, for safety from their civil war that lasted 1960-1996, 36
years. Perching on steep slopes, the Favela’s house dangerous gangs. Police do
not patrol, it's too dangerous. The Favela’s have little running water or
electricity. If a fire or emergency occurs within, the police/fire officials
must get permission from the gang bosses before entering.
Our stay is limited to colonial Old
Town Antigua with a plethora of cosmopolitan bars, restaurants and vast
quantities of souvenirs. Many of which I believe to have been shipped from
China. Old Town is a very unrealistic place for the common Guatemalan citizen
to frequent, other than as a worker. Old Town is all cobblestones. While most
dogs are strays which you step over while they snooze in the middle of the
street, I did see one dog owner furtively trying to clean up her pooch's runny
doo-doo, which is near impossible on cobblestone.
Guatemala, along the Pacific Ring of
Fire, has one of the highest concentrations of volcanoes in the world with 37
named volcanoes. Three volcanoes are constantly active: Pacaya, Fuego, and
Santiaguito which can be seen from Antigua. About once an hour, Fuego shoots
off smoke during the day and bright red fire at night. It sounds like mortars
exploding. It became a bit confusing the first night because large, beautiful
fireworks exploded for maybe 20 minutes. Not a volcano. As it turns out,
Guatemalans love fireworks and use many excuses (religious, holidays, weddings,
births or just to ward off evil spirits) to shoot fireworks.
In Antigua I bid a sad farewell to
Jackie, my travel partner, then meet my tour group for the next 12 days as we
explore Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador and Nicaragua. Surfing the Internet a
few months ago, I discovered Penguin Travel, a tour company based in Bulgaria.
They advertised a quickie tour of four countries with only one day focused on
Mayan ruins (been there, done that in Mexico). Traveling by van, my tour mates
are 8 Bulgarians, 2 Canadians, and two Americans plus a local Guatemalan tour
guide. English is our common language although if you get two Bulgarians
in a discussion, don't be surprised if the language quickly changes to
Bulgarian. It certainly adds flavor to the tour. I quickly learn that a
"technical break" is a potty stop.
Two days are spent at 5,200', at
one of the twelve isolated Mayan villages along beautiful Lake Atitlan, the
deepest and highest altitude lake in Central America. It lies in view of three volcanoes.
The lake is a cauldron where multiple volcanoes destroyed a 3,600 square foot
area 80,000 years ago. A PanAmerican airline crew spotted the lake in the 1950s
as a potential destination for fishing tourism. Our American government, ever
willing to help a struggling Nation, provided them with thousands of black bass
fish to stock this beautiful deep-water lake. That act of kindness backfired as
the bass proceeded to consume most of the life in the lake. Does Kudzu in
southeast U.S. come to mind?
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