The Mayan ruins of Tikal; Star Wars, Mayans and Monkeys

A Walking Tour of Tikal

Today we visit Tikal, and we want to beat as many tourists as we can so departure is 6am. We’ll be stopping for breakfast on the way. Later today we will cross the border into Belize where we will be spending the next four nights.

Breakfast was one of the better ones I’ve had in Guatemala. Eggs are a staple and these are served similarly to how I make mine. The toilets are concealed behind a hanging curtain, and we giggle over the lack of privacy awarded to bathrooms in this country.

We’ve arrived to the Mayan ruins of Tikal before 8am where we are greeted by our guide, Juan. Guatemalans are already manning their stalls in readiness for the days influx of visitors, but other than a few scattered people we are the only ones. Tikal is a major tourist destination and it won’t stay that way for long.

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The Ancient Mayan City of Tikal

Tikal flourished as one of the largest Mayan cities, which according to UNESCO was inhabited from the 6th Century BC to the 10th Century AD. It was eventually mysteriously abandoned by its Mayan civilisation, the last dated tablet in 889 AD. Tikal was discovered by modern archaeology in the Petén Province of Northern Guatemala in 1848. It was opened to the public in 1955 and declared a UNESCO site in 1979. The meaning of Tikal is ‘in the lagoon’ but it is known as ‘the place of the spirit voices’.

In front of the entrance to Tikal a large, white, to-scale model shows the expanse of the site that includes more than 3000 structures in its entirety. Juan spends some time pointing out the key locations on the model we’ll be going today and explaining the sophisticated constructions providing a water supply to the city. At least eight separate reservoirs were constructed and water was filtered with sand brought from a distance away. It’s a feat of engineering that enabled the city to thrive as it did for so long.

The residential part of the city itself covers an estimated 65 km², of which a large proportion has not been excavated or mapped. The land of the city extended to an area of 120 km². The core 16 km² of the city has been extensively mapped and excavated but the ruins are situated in the middle of the jungle through which visitors must walk between locations. Archaeologists believe it once rivalled Rome in size.

Agriculture at Tikal

Juan is a bottomless font of information and never stops talking the entire walk. His knowledge and passion for Tikal shines through. On our way to the first stop he is telling us about the evidence that supports the fact that the Mayans cultivated crops here in Tikal.

Aside from their impressive structures to store and direct water, soil analysis has been able to pinpoint areas of forest land cleared and used for growing crops, as well as irrigation, orchards and terraced structures. Scientists have also been able to identify that maize, beans, squash and root vegetables were grown at Tikal. Evidence has also been found suggesting cacao might have been grown. The ability to produce undoubtedly allowed the population of Tikal to swell beyond its ability to sustain itself, a key theory proposed to explain what happened to the Mayan civilisation of Tikal.

Tikal Wildlife

The map/guide I have purchased lists the local birdlife found in Tikal; Toucans, Vultures (though they seem to be everywhere else too) Woodpeckers, Parrots, Golden Oriole, Great Curassow, Occellated Turkey, Chachalaca and the North Jacana. There are also Howler and Spider Monkeys, Wild pigs, Coatis and Jaguars. While unlikely that we’ll be running into a Jaguar (we can hope) I am excited by the prospect of seeing some monkeys! We don’t have to wait long before they make an appearance, Spider Monkey’s are rustling in the trees above the clearing of our first stop.

It is on our way to the Great Plaza that I, having abandoned my attempts to perfect the timing to capture a photo of a Spider Monkey leaping between the trees, instead change my strategy to video and am rewarded with a fabulous recording of a monkey scurrying down a tree then launching into another one with its arms spread wide.

A Coati makes itself known at one of the temples, sniffing around the base of the stone steps of the top level, likely looking for food dropped by careless visitors. Juan tells me this would likely be a male, as the Coati society is matriarchal and the females kick the males out of their groups.

The Structures of Tikal

The Q Complex twin pyramids

According to LiveScience, the twin pyramid complexes were constructed by the rulers of Tikal to mark the passing of every 20-year period, starting as early as 672 AD. Each pyramid has a flat top with a staircase on each side and would be built adjacent to each other. The space between the pyramids formed a plaza. Nine twin pyramid complexes have been discovered so far in Tikal. Four other twin pyramid complexes have been found at other locations.

Our first stop on our walk of Tikal is one of these, a complex of four pyramids known simply as ‘Q’. This is the biggest complex of twin pyramids in Tikal and was associated with King Yax Nuun Ayiin II. On

the map this is shown as four pyramids but all we can see is the East one, in good condition, with a row of nine stone altars, or stela, lined up at it’s base. We are allowed to climb the stone stairs, which most of us do, admiring the view of the jungle canopy from the top. As with Teotihuacan in Mexico it is a careful climb down. Juan explains that the city is built on platforms elevated

from ground level, and points out the edge of the one we are standing on, camouflaged by the jungle foliage. He also explains that each pyramid has a twin built on the same platform. The twin for this one belongs to the jungle still. After one of the pyramids collapsed during excavation they have become cautious of further excavations, and only one of the four in this complex is visible to us.

This spot also houses a large stone tablet, Stela 22, fenced in and protected by a thatched roof. More Spider Monkey’s leap in the trees behind it as Juan explains that each of the tablets found at the site tell a story, this one is about a king and a ceremonial sacrifice.

Temple IV; the Two-headed Snake Temple

We continue through the jungle to Temple IV, or the Two-headed Snake Temple, famous for it’s use in seven seconds of footage from the original Star Wars film. It is still recognizable as the same scene, Temple III poking its top out from the jungle ceiling and Temple I and II beyond. Built around 741 AD, the top is reached by a mammoth set of wooden stairs built beside the temple, it’s tough but I’ll take them over the stone steps of the pyramids any day. At seventy metres tall the temple is the tallest still standing in Tikal and in all Mesoamerica. It is mind boggling to think of the ingenuity required to build a stone structure this high in 740 AD. The view from the top is worth the climb and most of us sit for a while to take it in.

Temple IV was built to mark the reign of Yik’in Chan K’awiil and archaeologists believe his tomb lies somewhere beneath it.

The Great Pyramid

We move along the path to a part of the city named the Plaza of the Great Pyramid, but referred to as the Mundo Perdido, or ‘The Lost World.’ Juan tells us this is after the Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle novel. The Great Pyramid is the oldest building in Tikal dating to around 600BC. Standing 31 metres tall with ten levels, from the top the other large temples in the city can be seen. All the temples are constructed on an axis to line up together and are placed according to the position of the sun at the Equinox. They were the resting place of kings.

The Sloping Panel Temple

The other structure in the Mundo Perdido is the Sloping Panel temple, which has clear architectural influence from Teotihuacan, supporting evidence of trade relations between the two cities. It is the only temple at Tikal which uses this style of architecture. It stands 22 metres high.

Temple III; The Temple of the Jaguar Priest

The base of Temple III is buried in foliage and as such the best view is from the Great Pyramid or Temple IV. It can be seen emerging from the jungle canopy on the left of the below photo.

Temple III stands approximately 55 metres high and faces towards the Great Plaza. It dates to 810AD and is likely the funeral temple of the king Dark Sun. It was the last temple pyramid to be built at Tikal and differs from the others in that it has only two rooms at the top instead of three.

With a zoom camera, Temple IV offers a view of Temple III from behind as it is seen in the Star Wars scene.

The Grand Plaza

We walk past Temple III, buried in foliage, towards the Grand Plaza, considered the most important part of the site and the most impressive demonstration of the architecture. The buildings were built over a period of more than a thousand years. The plaza is the largest clearing we’ve yet seen, bordered by Temples I and II, the North Acropolis and the Central Acropolis. Behind the Central Acropolis lies the South Acropolis, which has not been excavated. Temple V lies behind the Central Acropolis.

The panorama below is taken from the Central Acropolis. The North Acropolis is straight in front with Temple I on the right and Temple II on the left.

The North Acropolis

The North Acropolis was the burial ground for the rulers of Tikal for more than five centuries, several members of the noble class have been found within. The remains of nobles are always evident because of their elongated foreheads. The Mayan’s wrapped skulls from birth until the age of 18 months to extend them while the bones are still soft. The North Acropolis is also the oldest part of the settlement along with the Lost World. The North Acropolis was occupied at least 1500 years.

Juan sends us off to explore, telling us with a sly wink that most tourists don’t know that at the top of the North Acropolis is a window with a view looking straight to Temple IV and we’ll get the best photo from the site. A number of us make a beeline for the Acropolis, searching every window of each of the buildings. It is eventually located by a member of our group at the top of the rear building.

By the time we’ve climbed up and down every part of the North Acropolis I am breathing heavily, and welcome the flat ground of the clearing. There are excavations taking place at the base, but it is hard to see the subject of them beyond the scaffolding. The platform of the North Acropolis holds eight funerary temples built over more than 300 years, and engraved stela describe the history of the governors.

View from the North Acropolis with Temple I on the left

The Central Acropolis

The Central Acropolis was the residential part of the plaza, inhabited by the royal family and their relatives. It is a maze of hallways, courtyards and palaces comprising 45 buildings which was added to over the years.

I wander over the grass to the Central Acropolis. Within the walls is another large clearing, surrounded by rooms built into the stone structures.

Despite the heat of the day it is quite cool within them, the structures are specifically designed to create an air flow that cools them down. Many of the rooms used as bedrooms have inbuilt stone platforms which served as beds. The Mayans were not tall it seems.

The place is a maze of passages and rooms and I eventually find myself at the top of the structure off to the side of where I entered, looking down at the stone and grass below.

A curvature is evident to this part of the Central Acropolis when viewed from behind.

Temple I

Temples I and II stand above the grass of the Grand Plaza clearing, both built by Governor Jasaw Chan K’awiil, whose tomb lies within Temple I, around 700 AD.

Temple I is comprised of nine tiers, which represent the nine levels of the underworld. It stands 37 metres above the grass clearing. It is known as the Big Jaguar due to a carving on top of the pyramid which depicts a king on a Jaguar throne.

Temple II is known as the Mascarones Temple, and the carvings contained within are said to resemble his wife. It can be seen in the panorama photo above but I unfortunately ran out of time to take a closer look at it.

What happened to Tikal?

As Juan leads us on the path out, he explains that how they now know that a combination of decades of poor weather had left the Mayans unable to cultivate the food needed to support a growing population. There was rebellion, and sacrifices of the leaders, their skeletons identifiable as leaders by their flattened foreheads. Unfortunately for the citizens, with the leaders went their knowledge. Eventually the city was empty, its citizens departing for greener pastures or dying in the arid place Tikal had become, to be reclaimed in time by the Guatemalan jungle.

How to get to Tikal

The closest large town is the island of Flores, 66 kilometres away. If you don’t have a car and are not joining a Tikal day trip that departs from Flores you can catch a local bus or public minibus for less than $15 for the approximately two hour journey.

Purchase your day tour from Flores to Tikal.

Tikal can also be accessed from Belize. From San Ignacio it takes a little over two hours.

Purchase your day tour from San Ignacio to Belize

The best way to visit Tikal

The first thing to realise about visiting Tikal is that it is immense, and you are not going to see it all in one day. So whether you are short on time like I was, or have the luxury of being able to take your time, I’d recommend taking a tour because there is so much to know about Tikal that you wouldn’t learn on your own.

If you have the luxury of time, check out the experience of staying in Jungle accommodation available at Tikal and explore the site at your leisure. Tikal sunrise tours and Tikal sunset tours are also available, however the extended hours of the park that enable this are only accessible with a guide. Tikal is otherwise open from 6am – 6pm.

There is an entrance fee of US$4.20 for the museums, which are separate to the park entrance fee of approximately US$22 per person per day.

Tikal Accommodation

Hotel Jungle Lodge

The Hotel Jungle Lodge offers a pool and onsite restaurant and bungalow accommodation with private bathrooms. Airport transfers are available and the hotel can make all tour arrangements for you.

Take a look at the Hotel Jungle Lodge

Hotel Tikal Inn

A cheaper alternative to the Hotel Jungle Lodge, the Hotel Tikal Inn also features a pool and onsite restaurant with thatched cottage accommodation offering rainforest views. Airport transfers are available and the hotel can make all tour arrangements for you.

Take a look at the Hotel Tikal Inn

Jungle Lodge Tikal Hostal

The budget option, the Junge Lodge Hostal offers double or twin rooms with shared toilet facilities and on the edge of the jungle. There is an onsite pool and restaurant and airport transfers are available.

Take a look at the Jungle Lodge Tikal Hostal

If you are interested in reading more about the history and architecture of Tikal, Uncovered History is a great resource and was really helpful in filling in some of the details for me. You can also check out the official Tikal site.

From Tikal to Belize

There is no time for gift purchases when we exit, but we stop for lunch at a hotel on a gorgeous lake and while some of the others swim I browse the store there, ticking another few gifts off the list as well as a three wise monkeys statue for myself. I’ve seen it many times so it is obviously a common design over here.

The border crossing into Belize is smooth. Our bus isn’t coming through with us so we need to carry everything through to reload onto our new bus on the Belizean side. Our destination for the evening is San Ignacio, where I will need to make a decision on the optional activity for tomorrow, the ATM cave. The idea makes me incredibly uncomfortable, but I keep hearing about how amazing the experience is and it’s the highlight of everyone’s trip. The alternative is sleeping in and catching the public bus to make the trip of several hours to the water taxi that will take us across the sea to Caye Caulker. I’m still uncertain as we sit listening to the guide explaining the day, but I take a breath and remind myself that it is something I wouldn’t get to do at home and I should suck in the experience. With a lump in my chest I tell them I’m in.

Dinner that night is a short distance from the hotel, and I have the first lobster of the trip. Lobster is my absolute favourite food. It also happens to be my mothers. Growing up whenever it was one of our birthdays the birthday meal of choice would always be lobster. I also always like to eat seafood when I’m on the coast, so when I saw lobster on the menu it was a no brainer. I usually go for a mornay but that’s not an option, here it is served in a garlic butter and it was seriously amazing. The meat is tender and full of flavor and it is like no other I’ve had before. It’s also a generous serve. Some of the others are looking enviously on as I close my eyes and savour the taste with a contented sigh, and understand when I share some with them, vowing to order it themselves the following night.

We have to pay extra to use electricity in our room since it is expensive in Belize. While we are able to be comfortable with the ceiling fan, our sleep is instead disturbed by nearby karaoke. I mumble to Ruth that I bet its some of our group, which as it happened turned out to be the case.

Flores; the party town on a lake

Day 13; Leaving Rio Dulce with my sneakers in my hand

The weather has made a dramatic turn around today. Yesterday’s cloud cover and seeping rain is nowhere to be seen. The view from the hammock of our balcony this morning was lovely. It was a shame we couldn’t stay one more day to enjoy Tortugal. And dry my sneakers, in a bag at my feet still damp from yesterday’s sodden adventures. Today we leave for a single night in Flores with the luxury of a sleep in. It was cold overnight, the air flowing into our cabin through the open air gaps between the walls and roof. The lack of adequate blankets on the bed and in the rooms reveal the climate they are used to accommodating here.

More lush green countryside is rushing past the windows of our minivan. I finally have my music working after downloading an app yesterday so I am happily plugged in, even though I’ve had to create a playlist again.

Guatemalans work the land as we pass. Men lead donkeys carrying planks of trees on each sides of their bellies. Scrawny horses rip up grass at the roads edge while chickens peck at the ground and men carry sacks on their shoulders. Thatched huts and ramshackle buildings dot the landscape. To us the huts may appear cute and quaint and we love the idea of a visit, but we can leave. It is easy to forget that this is where the locals live full-time and lack the creature comforts we have at home paid for by our jobs in air-conditioned offices. These people do back breaking work on the land just to feed their families.

Today we cross into another department of Guatemala, what we’d call states in Australia. Tomorrow we will depart Flores to cross over into Belize.

We hit Flores a little after midday. The main part of our hotel is a lovely oasis on the lake with a deck stretching along it and a small pool. The colours of the town of Flores are directly across from us. Some of the others are excited by the pool, I’m excited by the espresso machine after Tortugal’s brewed coffee. Priorities.

Dani proposes a walk across the lake into town for lunch, or we can hang out by the pool until we check in. Some quiet relaxation in the cool breeze by the lake sounds like a perfect way to spend an afternoon to me. I order a coffee and settle on down, as do a few of my fellow group members. We idly chat and watch the wildlife, learning that according to Google there are in fact two species of crocodile that live in the lake. And they that don’t look particularly small. We don’t see any, but swimming all of a sudden doesn’t seem like such a hot idea. There is a ferris wheel and some sort of tents off to the side of the lake so it appears the carnival is in town. A couple of us order food, a banana nutella crepe and a Cappuccino for me!

The afternoon passes in this way, as the others drift back they join us at various times. We all take the walk into town for dinner once evening falls, walking alongside the road over the lake to the town we could see from our afternoon vantage point. Music and the babble of people reaches us from all directions. Five of us stay out for another drink after dinner, sitting in a club nodding along to Reggaeton music. Hayley and Pip pose with some of the prolific local police for photos on the walk back to the hotel. We didn’t stay out late but we needn’t have bothered attempting to get an early night, seems Flores is a bit of a party town and the party was loud and clear from the rooms where we were trying to sleep. Somehow, at some point, I managed to.

Unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to really get to know Flores, but you can check out the colourful streets and history of Flores and the 5 top things to do in Flores for more info.

Livingston; the Guatemala Garifuna

Day 12; A boat, a tarp and Tapado in Livingston

Today the sun is shining and it is pleasantly warm. We have a boat trip planned to a town called Livingston. There we will learn about Garifuna culture and sample a traditional Guatemalan dish called Tapado, made from seafood and coconut milk. Both of which I am a fan.

A boat trip on Lake Izabal

I manage to board the boat without incident, an improvement on my efforts of yesterday which have earned me a corker of a bruise across the back of my thigh reminiscent of the time I caught my leg in the rope abseiling down a rock wall. I take my seat on the side of one of the benches towards the back beside Ruth.

We first trundle pleasantly a short distance from our hotels dock to see the Castillo de San Felipe. The Spanish Colonial fort once protected the port from pirate attacks and sits on the narrowest point of the lake. Tourists are able to visit the fort and walk within its walls, but today we have to make do with the view from our position on the lake.

We go past and turn back again, the motor of the boat put-put-putting, and pause again at a mangrove island in the middle of the lake. I’m not sure it really meets the definition of an island, as there is no land visible just the roots of the mangroves. Great Egrets inhabit the mangroves, the white birds perched throughout the trees. Numerous posts poke out of the water, where new mangroves have been planted to extend the perimeter of the island. The government does not want this island to disappear.

We rapidly accelerate to head for Livingston. It takes me all of five minutes to regret my decision not to bring a jumper or jacket as the air rushes over me carrying fine spray from the lakes surface. I hope for a quick trip.

It’s not.

I put my head down into the wind and fold my arms in close to defend against the buffeting air. Ruth is doing much the same beside me.

It is, however, picturesque. We slow down to look at the rainforest vegetation we’re traveling through, occasionally interrupted by a stilted hut perched over the water, often with a small canoe or boat moored nearby. The huts are clearly inhabited, and are only accessible by the lake. Our driver says there are freshwater crocodiles here and I keep my eyes peeled on the waters edge searching for a glimpse. He says they don’t come around to the more densely populated part of the lake, but it doesn’t sell me on the idea of swimming. We emerge around the corner onto a wide part of the lake they call the mirror, reflecting the jungle and sky onto its still surface.

The soggy drizzle which has been falling becomes more emphatic.

It is entirely miserable by the time we’ve returned to the main part of the lake to continue speeding on our way. We are all drenched, the boats roof offers minimal defense. Ruth huddles on the floor in front of our bench, using the bench in front as a barrier from the rain and spray coming from the front. I’ve considered the same, but she’s a little smaller than I am.

I hear a rustling and something is passed over my head. Someone tells me to grab on.

A tarp has been passed over by the driver, and is being stretched over.

I clamp my left hand against one of the poles fixing the roof to the boat, pinning down my edge. Around me the others are doing the same, the ones in the middle holding it above our heads. The wind still floods through weakness in our defenses, the tarp flaps and billows noisily around my ears. But we’re dry.

And we must look utterly ridiculous. A boat speeding down the lake, twelve people huddled under a flapping black tarp, a driver standing at the back. I cannot help but laugh at the image and the others join me. We may look ridiculous but we’re dry and we’re having a great old time!

Livingston

The boat eventually slows and the tarp is pulled back to reveal Livingston. It looks much the same as Rio Dulce, though perhaps more of a fishing village. On our way through town Dani ducks into a local store to see if they have any ponchos for sale. Rain is expected the rest of the day and most of us aren’t wearing anything waterproof. Dani speaks rapidly in Spanish. They have no ponchos but they remove large garbage bags from under the counter and cut along both sides. Dani measures these up against us and rips a hole for our heads. Our raincoats cost five Quetzals. I am wearing a garbage bag. It only adds to the overall ridiculousness of the day.

**Yes…I am wearing a garbage bag** **Photo: C.Martin**

Dani leads us to the spot at which we will be meeting ‘the professor’ who we’ll be spending time with today. The professor is a music teacher, who teaches the Livingston children about their Garifuna history and culture through music and dance. It not only keeps the culture alive, but it keeps the kids off the street and out of trouble. It’s a term I’ve not heard before, Garifuna are the mixed race descendants of African, European and Caribbean people. They have resided in Central America since the 1700’s.

Some local children are playing soccer with a slightly flat ball on a basketball court nearby. We watch them smiling and laughing and running around, and Shane joins in the game. I notice an older child waving what appears to be a gun around on the other side of the court, several of the others have too and we exchange wide-eyed looks. He points it at another child and I am relieved to see it is a toy.

The Garifuna drums

A child arrives and leads us to a nearby set of steps. At the top is a small room with a number of children. They are surrounded by bright colours and instruments, predominantly drums of various shapes and sizes. We are invited to sit around the room. I end up behind a large drum.

The professor is perhaps in his early 30’s, and would fit right in back home in his black jeans, red flannelette and a black beanie. Five local boys of varying ages wearing shorts and t-shirts sit around him with instruments, two of them drums that sit on the floor. Another boy has two turtle shells strung around his neck which he hits with a stick. Two other boys have what appear to be some kind of Maracas. There are also two girls, one older and one younger, dressed in the brightly coloured local dress.

The professor and the boys demonstrate the Garifuna music, while the girls take turns in dancing both solo and with some of the boys. They are incredibly cute. Then its our turn to learn some beats, and we all shuffle around until everyone has access to an instrument. The professor demonstrates and instructs which beat he’d like us all to play. We all seem to get the rhythm and hang of it fairly quickly, with a few giggles to punctuate.

And then the professor demonstrates the dance and I watch closely. It is largely based on hip movement driven from the knees and is pretty close to one of the Samba steps, which I am not actually any good at largely due to my inability to master the basic step at anything resembling speed. Some of the other steps however I can do, including the one close to this. He gets us all up on our feet and we jostle for the limited floor space. Latin dance starts on the right foot, so I have to consciously keep thinking about starting on the left. The kids grab some of us to dance in the middle of the very crowded room. The young girl grabs my hand.

Time flies by and all too quickly it is done. We leave some money in the tip jar to help the professor keep working with the kids.

Tapado

The restaurant looks like it has been thrown together from leftovers and scraps. There’s a good chance it has. The rain continues to bounce on the roof of corrugated iron as we strip off our coats and garbage bags.

I order both the local specialties; the Tapado and a Coco Loco – a fresh young coconut cut open with rum added. The rum in mine is not overpowering, but some of the others find theirs very strong. The Tapado is essentially a soup. It comes with a full fish on the plate beside it, scales, head, eyes and all. It doesn’t take much digging to discover that the soup contains every bit of it’s seafood ingredients too. At first

I extract the bits of tails, and fins, and shells, but eventually I give up and just scoop the liquid from the bowl. Despite its plethora of non-edible contents it is incredibly tasty.

My garbage bag offers surprising defense against the cold air on the boat trip back, once I have wound it tightly around me to seal the gaps. The tarp is passed over my head once again. It is pulled back as we travel through a picturesque canyon and we don’t bother putting it back up again.

The afternoon passes at the Tortugal bar. An ever expanding group appears for the ridiculously cheap cocktails and we play dominoes into the evening.

The hot waters of Finca el Paraiso, Rio Dulce

Day 11; On the way to Rio Dulce

4am hurts even more than 4.30am. More so because that was our actual departure time, my alarm actually went off at 3.20! Today we depart Antigua for another Guatemalan destination, the waterfront Rio Dulce.

We are speeding through the countryside in a minivan with a cracked windscreen. At least it has seatbelts. On both sides of the road mountains loom stern and foreboding, dotted with patches of green, many tops concealed by cloud. The side of the road is a rotating landscape of trees, fields, houses and locals hopeful of selling their produce. It is still only 9am.

The litter strewn along the road is a sad indication of human presence. We have passed actual vultures picking over it on several occasions. They are sometimes joined by the odd dog. Large boulders sit beside the road where their downhill force has come to a rest. Landslides are common, especially in wet season.

The road is single lane each way and there’s a lunacy to overtaking. Cars poke noses out from lines of traffic on a regular basis, choosing their moment and flooring it into the lane of oncoming traffic for as many vehicles as they can. There is also a courtesy present. As soon as a car appears heading towards the overtaker, the overtakees make space for you to move back in, with often a honk exchanged to indicate gratitude. We’ve had so many close calls with oncoming vehicles, getting out of the way just in time. Every time it happens the Australians on the bus exchange wide eyed looks and shake our heads with a nervous half smile.

We’ve just passed a couple of properties with children’s clothes hanging on the fence along the road. I’m unsure whether this is taking advantage of a sunny location or some form of giveaway or exchange.

Other than a stop for a tasty breakfast with not so tasty coffee, and a couple of toilet stops we’ve been driving all morning. Our guide, Dani, has warned us that Rio Dulce is not a safe town. Other than organised group activities we’ll be staying in our hotel. All we know about our hotel is that we reach it by boat. We’re not going straight to our hotel, since it is still early we’ll be dropping off our luggage in Rio Dulce and going to a hot springs another 45 minutes drive. Its around 1pm when we get to Rio Dulce. After watching our bags loaded onto a boat we are led to the local supermarket to purchase a picnic lunch of sorts.

Supermarkets sell alcohol here. My backpack contains the wine from days ago so I pass it by with merely a glance. I’m amused to see my deodorant under a different brand name. Good to know I can replace it if I run out. There are a few tourists milling around, most of the people we see appear to be local to Rio Dulce.

I pick out some fruit and other snacks for lunch and some large chips to share while the other members of the group pick out assorted food and drink. They make you buy your plastic bags. At the bus our group leader has secured an eski filled with ice and we pile in our drinks.

Finca el Paraiso

Finca el Paraiso is a private property and we pay a small fee to enter. Children linger around holding their hands out for coins, but we are advised not to encourage this behaviour. Despite the eski’s weight the local guide hefts it onto his shoulder. We change and use the toilet before we set off on the path through the jungle to the spring.

The path is ridiculously slippery and I’m thankful for the grip of my sneakers when some of the others slide about in their thongs. The final set of steps are installed into the path, and the railing is a saviour on the damp wood.

At the bottom of the steps the spring comes into view. Water rushes over a wall of rocks landing with a roar in the pool below. A number of people are swimming or standing beneath the falls. On first glance it appears that mist is rising from the falls as they hit the pool below, but it is actually steam.

Volcanic activity heats the water rushing over the rocks at Finca el Paraiso below the ground. It falls into cool water below, creating a refreshing place to take an afternoon swim. Sitting under the falls is like taking a hot shower, while hovering a little distance away is like sitting in a warm bath. The water becomes cooler the further the distance from the falls. I’m not much of a water baby but the spot is irresistible, and I clamber over the slippery rocks to plunge in behind the others. It is a remarkable sensation, moving through the chill water growing gradually warmer, until you perch on the rocks below the falls letting the hot water pour over you on its journey down.

A young local man shows Shane from our group a series of three caves under the falls, and persuades him to climb to the top and jump off. A few locals jump in the time we are there. My heart breaks for a stray dog hunting round for scraps of food left behind or dropped by visitors. She is skeletal and clearly feeding a litter and we are all distressed by seeing her. The guide keeps shooing her away. We have nothing nutritious to give her but we slip her what we can when the guide isn’t looking. By the time we pack up and leave a chill has arrived in the air.

Tortugal

Our Rio Dulce hotel for the next two nights is called Tortugal. Dani has talked it up as being the best accommodation of the trip. It is only accessible by boat on the shores of Lake Izabal. The hotel will be the only option we have to eat, but we are reassured that the food is good. When we get there we find it really is quite exquisite. With my exceptional coordination I manage to catch my leg on the rope attempting to climb out of the boat. I fall ungracefully onto the seat behind me to a chorus of uproarious laughter from Shane, who extends his hand to help me out on my next attempt.

The whole place has a rustic Robinson Crusoe desert island castaway feel to it. A series of huts and buildings all built with wooden logs with a tin roof. It is literally on Guatemala’s largest lake, Lake Izabal, the main dining and recreational area extends over the waters edge on stilts. The huts are spread around the property. Shane is in the honeymoon suite, stashed out in the jungle.

The hut Ruth and I have is closest to the water off to the side of the restaurant building. It contains two luxurious queen beds, a small bathroom and our own deck looking out over the water with a hammock stretching from one side to another, along with a 2 seater lounge and coffee table. The floor in the room is concrete which extends into the bathroom. The shower has concrete walls and a drain dropping straight to the ground below. The shower is the best since Mexico City, although it is fixed to the wall and unable to be adjusted. A great height for Ruth, but for me not so much, and I have to bend my knees to wash my hair. A strip of something like chicken wire runs between the walls of the hut and its roof. The wire runs the full perimeter of the hut and is about 20cms in height. Hence the hut is unable to be entirely closed off from the elements outside. Lucky its warm, especially given there are only sheets on the bed.

As promised the restaurant is very good, although the coffee not so much and I am missing the coffee from Fernando’s in Antigua. Tortugal has no TV and no music. Guests entertain themselves with conversation, admiration of the sun reflecting off the lake stretching before them, or with the collection of board games available off to one side. There is a resident very large and drooling dog by the name of Heffe, who is never far from the restaurant, and a couple of tiny cats who appear from time to time that Ruth and I pat at every opportunity.

If you’re in Rio Dulce and seeking more adventure, a day trip to Semuc Champey is well regarded.

An anxious day at Lake Atitlan

Day 10; A long bus ride to Lake Atitlan

I’m awake well before my alarm. Since tossing and turning doesn’t seem conducive to getting back to sleep I figure I’ll just get up.

When I emerge from the room there is a line of people going into the dining room for breakfast. I know I have to pay for breakfast here but otherwise have no clue whats going on. I ask a girl standing in line what the arrangements for breakfast are, she just shrugs and says no idea. So I join the end of the line and dish myself up some scrambled eggs from the waiting hot tray. With no seats in the room I take my plate and sit on the couch outside. Before too long one of the staff is pointing and gesturing me back into the room while talking in Spanish.

In the dining room I am shown to a seat that’s been stuck at the end of a long table. There is no one in my group here. No one speaks to me and I feel decidedly out of place. Glancing around the room most of them appear to be wearing the same shirt. It dawns on me I appear to have crashed some other groups breakfast. This is confirmed when I walk past the reception desk and the attendant asks me if I am with Intrepid. He tells me my group doesn’t have breakfast included and asks me to pay. I hand over my $6 US (so wasn’t worth it) and ask what time Fernando’s opens, he tells me 7am.

Its 6.55am so I set off down the street and grab two takeaway coffees. It’s Ruth’s birthday but I cant find any pastry shops open to get her something tasty. A coffee will have to do.

We’re outside waiting for our shuttle pickup to Atitlan before 8am as instructed. But…Guatemalan time. By the time 8.45 rolled around I was uneasy and ready to bail on the whole idea. I had no sooner turned to Ruth and said ‘at what point do we give up and go do something else for the day’ than the shuttle van bumped along around the corner.

Given my propensity for motion sickness I always sit as close to the front as I can so I nab the first available seat. It is more like three quarters of a seat, and located next to a couple who feel a periodic urge to noisily show their affections for each other. Ruth is somewhere up the back deep in boisterous conversation with some fellow travelers of various accents. It seems people mostly go to Lake Atitlan to spend a few days. The father of one guy on the bus has a house there, so he is descending with a few people he met at a hostel. I wonder about the wisdom of this venture in a day, especially with our tour departing Antigua at 4am the following morning. That does nothing to help my unease.

With nothing to do except observe the countryside and the driver and listen to grabs of conversation from the back it is a very long two hour trip.

Our first glimpses of Lake Atitlan come as the van comes around a corner and commences a winding journey to the bottom. Crystal clear it reflects the mountains positioned around it to the sky, each bend bringing it back into view as we wind lower down the mountain towards the town of Panajachel. The van weaves and turns through crowded streets lined with market stalls filled with local wares. Later inspection reveals them to be more of the same, just stamped with the name of a different town. One of the Spanish speaking passengers tells Ruth that the driver says our pickup point is a travel agency beginning with X. I vaguely remember passing it.

When the van door opens just after 11am a number of people are crowding the door. I step through and stand off to the side to wait for Ruth. She gets off the bus and is immediately engaged in conversation with one of the men who was waiting at the door. She walks off beside him. He tells her, and me following behind, that this is the pickup point for the shuttle back to Antigua. He leads us through streets down to the water. I follow a couple of metres behind, wondering why Ruth is going with this guy and who he is. She explained later that she hadn’t seen him waiting at the van door and had thought he was a fellow passenger being helpful.

The whole confusion was largely our own creation. Unlike most of the other things we had planned and done, we are woefully and inadequately prepared for this adventure to Atitlan. Hence we were unprepared with the knowledge needed to prevent being taken advantage of. After our experience with organised tours in Mexico City we had declined the organised tour which departed Antigua at 5.30am in favour of taking the shuttle and doing our own thing. Hindsight is such a wonderful thing.

So this guy starts talking about us getting on his boat. I stop him with ‘hang on a second, who are you?’ He explains he is a local guide and comprehension dawns – he’s rustling up business for himself. So we tell him which villages we are interested in going to. He explains the times involved in journeys across the lake and says he’ll take us for one hundred. I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea but we’ve come here to experience the area so we agree and follow him to his boat. Just as we are about to hop on I ask him to clarify which currency the price is in. Turns out its $100 US, which neither Ruth or I have. We tell him we don’t have that money and leave.

It’s not long before another boat owner is chasing us down to get our business. Again he quotes an extortionate price to the islands we want to visit. He quotes a reduced amount of $75 US to go to the villages that would have been included in the tour if we’d taken it. He also tells us we’ve missed the public boat. So if we want to do anything on the lake hiring a boat seems to be our only option.

I tell him we need to discuss it and we walk away. We have been walking only a few moments when he catches us again. This time he offers to take the two of us for the $75, which he brings down even further to 500 Quetzals. I still feel uneasy and my mind is racing ahead to all of the things that can go wrong. But we haven’t come all this way on our last day in Antigua to do nothing either so Ruth and I exchange an uncertain glance, and we agree.

His name is Daniel and it is his boat. But he’s sending us off with his brother, who it transpires speaks not a word of English. Daniel asks for his payment. I am deeply mistrustful so tell him we will pay half now and half when we are safely returned to the port. He doesn’t like it much, but he agrees and Ruth hands him 300 Quetzals. There is no way I am going to end up stranded on the other side of the lake with them demanding more money to take me back across. This is the best strategy I could come up with.

**The colourful streets of Santa Catarina**

Now don’t get me wrong, Lake Atitlan and its surrounds are very pretty. Had I had the luxury of more time and better preparation my experience would probably have been a different one. The first town he took us to was Santa Catarina, which pretty enough given its bright colours and designs painted all over the buildings. We took a wander through an artists gallery and strolled along the stalls selling the same tourist stuff we’d seen everywhere else, despite the women sitting on the ground weaving. The patterns used are largely the same it seems. Then our allotted 25 minutes was up (that one had been hard to convey, I had only learned the numbers to twenty. I eventually typed the number in my phone calculator.) and then we were off to the next one.

The town around the next corner, San Antonio Palopo, was lacking the colour, and in some cases structural integrity of those in Santa Catarina. They appear more like the temporary villages seen in Africa erected with corrugated iron and whatever materials happen to be available. We are not enthused about being here and I think I manage to agree with our driver we will be back in 15 minutes. As we disembark the boat a pre-teen boy is chattering away at us. But he disappears when he realises we aren’t going to pay him to take us anywhere. Probably a deal struck with the local boat owners. I survey the nearby water to satisfy myself there are other boat options available should we be abandoned here.

**Local women washing clothes in the lake**

We wander up the street and take some photos of the lake. 15 minutes later we’re waiting on the dock to leave again. Our driver manages to say ‘ceramic factory’ and points up the hill. This rings a bell, I remember hearing there was a ceramics factory somewhere on the lake. I have no intention of lugging ceramics across four countries and I want to be back to the town where our bus back to Antigua departs. ‘Panajachel’ I say and he points some more. ‘Panajachel’ I say again and he eventually nods and says ‘ok’

All up we’ve paid about $68 US for the two of us to have a boat ride on Lake Atitlan for approximately 90 minutes with someone who couldn’t tell us anything about where we were. We’ve handed over all the Quetzals the both of us have. It probably wasn’t all that bad, but we both feel ripped off by the experience. Still, we’re on dry land again and in the town where the shuttle picks us up.

All I want to do by this time is have a meal and a cocktail or three. We end up at hotel Posado de Don Rodrigo, which is the pickup point according to our ticket. There is quite a pleasant view over Lake Atitlan and we kill most of the time until the shuttle there. We do attempt to find the travel agency the first driver said was the pickup point to no avail. A woman with excellent English at another agency confirmed we should wait at the place stated on our ticket and that we should be there early because they wouldn’t wait for us.

The shuttle arrived early with the driver asking for me by name. The most relaxed I felt all day was taking my seat on that bus! Due to traffic we had a slightly longer trip home. We arrived, exhausted, just before 7pm with the prospect of repacking ahead of us.

My advice if you intend to visit Lake Atitlan is to do your research and be prepared. If you’re only thinking about a day trip you’re probably better off on the organised tour.

You can find out more about things to do in Lake Atitlan and Antigua here.

You can find some options for booking a more organised Atitlan experience with some tours below. You can also read about my experience hiking Volcan Pacaya.

From bean to cup; a story of a coffee bean

Day 9: Filadelfia coffee plantation

I am thankful for investing time into packing my bags last night, this morning all that remains is my pyjamas, toiletries and the contents of the rooms lockbox which will go in my small pack anyway.

Ruth still isn’t well poor thing, so I enjoy the final included breakfast alone. We join our Intrepid tour this evening so we will be leaving the comforts of Hotel Candelaria for a hotel in town. I haven’t worked out how we’re getting there yet.

I set off early on the direct route into town, noting the turn I had missed the previous day, with the intention of finalising our tickets for our trip to Lake Atitlan tomorrow and booking a chocolate workshop for the afternoon. However all I actually have time to do is drop off laundry and finalise Atitlan, with a smidge of time left to pop by Fernando’s for a coffee before digging out my map to locate the pickup point for the coffee tour.

Naturally I needn’t have worried, as with every other pickup this trip they run on their own schedule of time and are twenty-five minutes late. Checkout is 1pm and the travel agency told me the coffee tour is an hour so I’m not concerned.

Now for anyone who doesn’t know me, it is probably pretty evident by now that I love my coffee. For anyone who missed the memo let me hold up a neon sign for you.

I love coffee!

I’m a two cup per day minimum, more if I’m not working or actually need to sleep at a sensible time. My morning doesn’t begin without coffee and I don’t drink the crap stuff. Unless I am desperate and there is nothing else available. Consuming coffee is the service I do everyone around me.

Hence it’s no real surprise that given the chance I want to go to a coffee plantation.

But enough about me…

A coffee journey

A vehicle something like an African safari bus finally arrives to collect me and proceeds to bump along the Antiguan streets. It is a short trip to the coffee plantation in the next town. We soon pull up to the entrance of a grand sprawling estate that resembles something straight out of a movie. We trundle in through the gates and along the dirt driveway, stopping in front of a building housing a restaurant, gift shop and reception where a few of the passengers from my bus are handing over money. An attendant fastens a band around my wrist when I show my ticket. A man who turns out to be our guide ushers us back onto the bus, which he drives along the dirt roads of the property. We climb down when we stop in front of large bushes weighed down with berries.

Where does coffee come from?

Coffee beans are found within the berries of certain species of the Coffea plant, native to the African continent. The finest quality of the species is Arabica, which originated in Ethiopia and is the species almost exclusively grown in Guatemala. Coffee is one of Guatemala’s primary exports and it is 9th in the world for exporting coffee. Coffee is grown across the majority of the country, and Antigua is probably the best known of Guatemala’s coffee growing regions.

Filadelfia coffee plantation grows three types of Arabica Coffee beans on an expansive property.

The life cycle of coffee

Picking coffee

The hero of our story begins life as a berry on the green Coffea bush, shaded by the branches of the Australian Native Grevillea tree. The large Grevillea trees stand between groups of the Arabica bushes, their shade protecting the berries from ripening too fast. Harvest runs from November to March, the berries turning a bright red upon ripening. It will take about five years to get a harvest from a bush. Every couple of weeks each section will be re-harvested to get newly ripened berries. Our guide tells us to each pick two red berries from the bushes nearby and I select the two reddest I can find. Our guide walks by our outstretched hands, inspecting our efforts seriously. He tells us we can all show up for work as pickers the next morning.

He demonstrates how to hold the berries in our fists and squeeze them against each other to pop the seed from the flesh of the berry. The berry juice runs across my palm as mine dutifully pop out of their fruity protection. He explains that the berries are always picked in the morning and de-husked the same afternoon, as the flesh will ferment the bean if it is left on. He tells us to put the seed in our mouths and I find it to be surprisingly sweet. This is the layer of membrane that sits over the coffee bean, which is hard between my teeth. Under the membrane is a husk that needs to dry before it can be removed. I am unable to scrape it off with my teeth or fingernail.

The berries are used for composting or making coffee jam. The dried membrane is broken up and used as a layer in the stables as an alternative to sawdust. On this plantation nothing is wasted.

We all discard our berries in the dirt of the grove. These ones will not finish life as a cup full of rich brown goodness but perhaps become more bushes themselves.

Washing and sorting coffee beans

Back at the buildings, one of them turns out to be full of machinery and contraptions. One of these sends the beans swirling through channels of water. The water separates the beans from the berry while sorting according to quality. The red berries, good and ripe, will sink to the bottom while the bad or unripe fruit will float. The floating berries are used for lower quality blends of coffee while the red will make the best.

The fruit of the berry is removed by pushing them through a screen, leaving the bean surrounded by the silver skin and the parchment.

Drying Coffee beans

Our hero then spends several days basking in the Guatemalan sun of the Filadelfia Plantation’s courtyard while he dries and staff lovingly rake the lines of beans to ensure they dry thoroughly. They need to be raked every six hours or so to ensure they dry evenly and do not grow mildew. Since it may take up to four weeks for the beans to dry to the required moisture level for the next stage, it is fortunate that harvest season is also the dry season. This is a critical stage of the process as it will effect the quality of the end product. Over dried beans will become brittle and will break in the next stage, while beans that are too moist will be prone to attack from bacteria.

Hulling the coffee beans

Once dry he will join his fellow beans in another machine that removes the last of the fruit from the bean. In the above picture some of the beans have broken free of their husks while drying. The hulling process will leave behind the green bean which is the final product that will get exported or sold to roasters. The farm can also roast their own beans, but only do this for local sale.

By the time we get to the tasting part of the tour it is almost 1. So much for an hour tour! The coffee must be pretty good though, I don’t drink my coffee black but this one was still drinkable.

If you are interested in a tour of Filadelfia Coffee Plantation these can be purchased at any of the number of tourist stands scattered throughout Antigua. As an alternative, Intrepid run a day tour that also incorporates visits to the local markets and some of the local sites. You can book here.

It was after 1.30 by the time I had briskly walked back to our hotel.

I found Ruth packed and ready. No one had told her to leave, and they didn’t seem at all fussed at the lateness when I went to settle the bill. The man at the front desk, who I assume was the owner/manager, asked if we had our transfer organised. I confessed, embarrassed, that we were moving to another hotel, explaining we were commencing an intrepid tour and our accommodation was included. He said he would be happy to take us there if we gave him a moment to get someone to cover him. The new hotel was across town, Ruth wasn’t 100% and we both had bags that weren’t going to be fun on a long walk. I didn’t know how we would get there yet, so I jumped at the generous offer.

He chatted with us on the way, telling us he lived out of town with his wife and daughters. The rent is too expensive for Guatemalans in Antigua, most of them live out of town and travel in. He dropped us at the door of our hotel. If you’re ever looking for a place in Antigua make sure you check out Hotel Candelaria!

I liked that our new hotel put food and water out for Antigua’s many stray dogs. And it was a short walk to Fernando’s. Still, I was glad we hadn’t spent our extra days there.

Ruth was feeling up to some activity so we head to Fernando’s for some lunch and stock up on chocolate and coffee. I am now carrying nearly two kilograms of roasted coffee beans in my pack for the rest of my trip. Not that I can actually make espresso with it when I get back until I’ve bought a new machine. I hope my bag will protect it from the heat and it survives the travels yet to come.

We then take a wander through town aiming for the chocolate museum, where the workshop we have now missed is in progress. Luckily I hadn’t booked the afternoon session, since I was still on a coffee tour. We sample some of the chocolate (not as good as Fernando’s in my opinion) and browse the artisan stands out the back. Most of it looks the same to me, but I do find a lovely soft scarf in my favourite colour that I have been keeping a watch for.

At 6.30 we take a seat in the area laid out for our introductory tour briefing. We are one of the first but one by one the chairs start to fill.

There are eleven of us all up. Mostly Australian, one older Swiss-German woman, one woman from France and an English woman. Of the Australians we are mostly teachers. Our guide is a Guatemalan woman. And there is a single, solitary man, although he doesn’t seem overly bothered by that fact!

After our briefing we head out for a group dinner and I see the first salsa dancing since leaving Mexico. I smile remembering my early days learning to dance listening to the lesson going on in the next room. As we leave to head back to our hotel I can see experienced dancers on the floor.

You can check out more tours and activities for Antigua below, including a couple of options for coffee plantation tours. You can also read about my experience hiking Volcan Pacaya and my visit to Lake Atitlan.

A Pacaya Volcano Tour; a Volcano Pacaya hike

Day 8; An Antigua Volcano Hike

There appear to be no discernible road rules on the cobblestone streets of Antigua. Or at least, none obvious to a foreigner such as myself. Right of way appears to be straight, at intersections vehicles seem to take a gap when it comes. The town is busy today. Cars queue to turn down streets and pedestrians wait for a pause to dart between them. They dodge the motorbikes, sometimes carrying three people, also seeking the gaps to weave between. Honking the horn appears to be the signal to indicate someone can go through.

The rides in cars and shuttles are equally hair raising. Few people seem to wear seatbelts, when they are even present to wear. You cant help thinking if there’s an accident you’ll be a goner. But I haven’t seen an accident yet. Despite the way they drive, the chaos seems to work for them.

I am on my own this morning. It is sadly Ruth’s turn to be unwell due to the dinner she had without me. She has gone back to the hotel to rest in the hope of being up to the Pacaya Volcano tour which we have booked for this afternoon.

I have also booked myself into a tour of a coffee plantation for tomorrow. The travel agent has given me the best map I’ve seen yet and I am miraculously able to find my way around with it. If you come to Antigua do yourself a favour and get one of these first up! I’ve actually been able to intentionally find the chocolate museum. This took me past the first actual bottle shop I’ve seen and a store selling soaps so divine they smell good enough to eat. I’ve bought a bottle of rose Moscato (since they don’t seem to do sparkling wines here) for this evenings volcano viewing and a couple of soaps, though I’m not sure whether these will be gifts or I’ll hold onto them. I find Central Plaza which Antigua’s streets are designed around.

I don’t have time for messing around finding something for lunch so I head back to familiar Fernando’s. While attempting to locate Ruth’s direct route back to the hotel I get lost, again. Not having the time to go wrong I backtracked and flagged down a motorcycle taxi, bumping and bouncing all the way back to the hotel. I arrived with 20 minutes to spare before the scheduled volcano pickup.

Ruth has been lying down all morning but valiantly rallies to come along. We are waiting out the front of our hotel as directed ten minutes ahead of schedule. Naturally the pickup is on Guatemalan time and well behind schedule. Given our experience with tour pickups in Mexico City I ring the agency to confirm the booking. The bus pulls up about two minutes later.

It’s not very full but as is often the case this is just one of the pickup buses and we have to change to a final one. The next is overfull and I end up on the dicky seat folded out from the second-last row. It is woefully lopsided and I spent the next hour and a half sitting at an awkward angle, trying to brace my body to stay as straight as possible. Naturally there are no seatbelts!

A Volcano Pacaya hike

When we get to the Pacaya volcano we pay another fifty Quetzals to enter the park, this goes towards maintenance of facilities. The Guatemalan government declared 5,489 acres National Park in 1963. While the trails in this part are safe, it is not permitted to traverse them without a guide. Horses stand around with men holding their heads, repeatedly offering us a ride up. It is fresh but not unpleasantly so, and the hike will keep us warm.

Ruth unfortunately has to turn back a short time into the climb, as despite her hopes she hadn’t really been any better. She had told me on the bus not to wait for her, so once I have managed to communicate with someone who tells me she is safe I push on.

The walk is three and a half kilometres each way. I’m no stranger to a challenging hike, and I train with seven kilometre runs, but this was a completely different matter entirely, which I can only put down to the altitude. We were only ascending three hundred metres from our starting point, but that was already 2300m above sea level!

I tried to break only when the guide stopped but as we got higher I had no choice but to stop more frequently just to catch my breath, my lungs heaving to get enough air into them to push my body on. There were spectacular photo opportunities for Agua volcano part way up. As we neared the top my breath fogged with the plunging temperature and I felt cold in my t-shirt. It was a huge relief to walk over the last rise and see the fences marking the perimeter of the top.

**Volcan Agua – this is my favourite photo of my whole trip!**

The top of Pacaya Volcano

Unfortunately, we were now in the clouds and couldn’t see a thing! And it was freezing cold! There was no evidence of the promised sunset. Check out this post catching the sunset and checking out Pacaya’s lava in clearer weather.

We were led down another hill to a jagged black landscape I have seen before, in New Zealand. Our guide tells us this is the lava flow from the 2014 eruption. The rocks are sharp, and shiny in places, and the group carefully clambers over it posing for photos.

We were led to a part of the lava flow where heat still rises from the ground, and offered sticks and marshmallows. I leapt at the chance for a sugar hit more than anything, not having had time for snacks beforehand, and not having anything in my bag. We all genuinely attempted it, rotating our sticks around the fissure but the best I achieved was a slightly gooey outer.

By this time the light was disappearing. I don’t see well at night and I hadn’t brought my glasses. I was anxious to start the climb down.

The journey does go quicker, but before too long I was forced to flick on the torchlight of my phone to light my way. Even in daylight care would have been required, as the ground slipped and dirt slid away from under our feet. The dark added a whole other degree of difficulty. I reflected that this was probably not the most sensible thing I had ever done. The whole way down I tried not to think about what might happen if I fell. A view of the lights of San Vicente glowing against the darkened sky rewarded us towards the bottom. Back at the bus I make sure I am on board in time to get a stable seat. Ruth has spent the duration huddled in the rangers room watching TV in Spanish.

Clearly, I made it in one piece, my legs shaking from the exertion and sweat pouring off me despite the cold. This was my second volcano hike, the first being Greece, and it was a dramatically different experience. I can honestly say it was one of the most physically challenging things I have ever put my body through. It was all I could do to muster the energy to pack when we got back to our hotel around 8pm. There was no chance Ruth and I would be drinking that wine!

Finding Fernando; the best coffee in Antigua Guatemala

Day 7: Antigua

Our first full day in Antigua brought us the chance to walk the streets in daylight and really see the detail of the town. And what a curious place it is.

There are stretches of stone walls, often coloured and broken only by carved wooden doors. The ornate doors conceal expansive interiors built around centre courtyards filled with greenery and water features. The street frontage gives no clues to the beauty protected within. Every window has bars on the outside. Some residents have made the bars decorative by hanging baskets of flowers, adding splashes of colour against the stones.

The cobblestone streets are incredibly rough, it would be asking for a broken ankle to attempt walking in heels. I am thankful for my comfy sneakers, though even they occasionally stumble. It’s a wonder cars have any suspension left, especially given the way some of them drive. There are fairly modern cars, motorbikes and motorised scooters. Older style open tray utes pass us filled with adult passengers casually leaning back against the cab.

Cobblestone streets on the outskirts of town

The town is designed in a grid around a central plaza. Within its immediate square all the streets running North to South have the same name as do those running East to West. Numbers differentiate the parallel streets, such as 3rd Avenida Norte. You would expect this design to make it easy to navigate. Instead it forms a maze within which it is incredibly easy to get completely twisted around. We walked the same street three times thinking we hadn’t been down there yet. Adding to the confusion, outside of the centre grid the streets do not conform to the design, making our hotel challenging to locate. Galileo’s offline map functionality has been a saviour. Searching for particular stores we discover the numbering of properties on the streets is consistently out by one from the online address. But we’ve thus far found everything we’ve looked for.

Periodically we come across tiny little general stores filled with merchandise of all descriptions. The seller is often sitting behind bars. We even pass a few stores with an armed guard posted out the front, cradling a shotgun of sorts while keeping a watchful eye on the street.

The town is full of ruins, seemingly the remnants of a time gone by. We later learn they were damaged by an earthquake and left in states of disrepair.

The coffee in Antigua is renowned. So it is unsurprising that it seems there are several coffee shops and cafes on every street. There is one I have read raved about in every review, a place called Fernando’s. I am determined to try the best in town, so we pass them all in favour of finding Fernando’s.

When we come upon it on the corner of two streets, the doors stand open inviting us within. We step up to the counter but instead a waiter with a bright smile ushers us through the store to tables in the centre courtyard. A waiter brings us menus in English and we excitedly order what will be our first Latte in a week. In a quaint touch the front page of the menu introduces Misha, the resident cat, as being the one to see to relieve any worries or stress. I spot her lounging on a chair in the sun. The waiter eating his breakfast nearby tells us she loves the attention from people and we should feel free to say hello.

An older gentleman comes over and greets us with a kiss on the cheek like old friends. This is Fernando. In perfect English he thanks us for visiting and hopes we enjoy it. We comment on Misha’s presence and he looks over at her with a fond smile, “she’s my boss” he says.

Our coffees arrive and Fernando bids us farewell to drink them, hoping we enjoy them.

I am taking a moment to pause for effect…

The coffee is out of this world, like seriously good. I tell Ruth I am taking some home and ask the breakfasting waiter which of the bags on sale I am drinking. He tells me it is their finest one, the bags sell for 75 Quetzals, which comes to just over $13 Australian for about 450g. He asks us where we are from and nods knowingly when we tell him, “you are coffee snobs in Australia” he grins. We order another coffee and he tells us it is his opinion that their chocolate is even better. An inspection of the store shelves reveal flavours of cinnamon, cardamon and coffee, and even lavender. We try some samples as we leave and I walk out with three blocks and a promise to see them tomorrow.

Restaurants are also plentiful, we’ll clearly have no shortage of choice for food. Hotels are another regular sight, the tourist industry in Antigua appears to be booming.

Tourist agents are another common sight, one had been helpful in pointing us to the laundry that morning. After our coffee fix at Fernando’s we returned there to enquire as to the tour options available. We book in to hike Volcan Pacayo tomorrow. I would have loved to do the Acatenango hike, but I discovered once we got here that it’s a tough overnight climb. We don’t have the gear for an overnight hike, and we can’t fit it into our time in Antigua. Hence we are making do with the half day Pacayo trip. I am adding Acatenango to my bucket list instead. Spending the night watching Fuegos erupt from the peak of Acatenango is raved about by all as an amazing experience.

We had passed a number of day-spas on our wanders through town, but we went in search of the one I found recommended online. They couldn’t fit us in together so I took the first session and Ruth the next one, and had a lovely relaxing massage. I can recommend Healing Hands; one hour will set you back 250 Quetzals, or about $43 Australian.

I have stupidly not put painkillers in the bag I am carrying and unfortunately the migraine I had been fighting all day would stay at bay no longer. I returned straight to the hotel to call it a night, leaving Ruth to her own devices after her massage. I’ve recovered somewhat by the time she returns, and bound up the stairs in the hope of seeing a Fuegos eruption. I have to wait for a while, but I am finally rewarded with the sight of glowing lava spilling down the volcano.

Antigua; Courtyards and Cobblestones

Day 6; Mexico City to Antigua, Guatemala

I am so terribly excited to get to Antigua. I picked our hotel specifically because you can see one of the volcanoes erupting from the rooftop terrace! We’ll be there for three nights, before we move to another hotel in Antigua for the start of the tour and another two nights. The hotel used by the tour had mixed reviews. I had elected to choose our own hotel for the additional nights. Besides…Volcanoes! And I hear the coffee is amazing!

But first…more flying!

Back to Mexico City airport

The hotel called a taxi for us, slightly more expensive than the one we’d taken there from the airport. We’d considered an Uber but ruled it out given all the ones we had taken had been small vehicles, and we weren’t confident of getting one with space for our luggage. The guaranteed larger vehicles cost more than a taxi.

Our transfer to the airport was smooth and we found our check in counter after a long walk through the airport terminal. The attendant asked for my immigration form, which I had been handed upon entry into Mexico. My heart accelerated as panic kicked in. I was certain it hadn’t been given back to me. I located it safely in my document wallet next to my passport where organised me had placed it.

After offloading the bags we continued through the terminal, stopping off to use a bathroom. Now I wouldn’t normally go into details of such ablutions, but what happened in that bathroom has scarred me for years to come.

There were two cubicles. A step elevated the toilet in the right cubicle from the floor. Bizarrely this was for disabled use. Go figure. I hung my bags on the hook on the back of the door. Ruth immediately left the other cubicle, saying ‘I think that one is blocked’ to someone.

The toilet bowls in this part of the world aren’t the same as in Australia, the bowl is more elongated and the water level is much higher.

So I heard a flush from the next cubicle, and the unmistakeable sound of water flowing into an already full bowl, and then running over. I looked down at a rapidly spreading pool of water flowing under the door between the cubicles, bringing with it human waste of various form. ‘Oh my god’ I uttered with revulsion, thankful for the step upon which my feet rested and the hook that held my bags.

The entire cubicle was flooded a short time later. My saving grace, and that of the people soon to share a plane with me, was it had not yet gone under the door. From my step I was able to stretch to get my bags and put them over my shoulders, open the door and leap over the water to the safety of the dry tiles beyond.

We fled.

The rest of the visit to Mexico airport was uneventful, with patchy wi-fi (for me anyway) we waited for our plane. There isn’t a lot of choice for airlines so we flew Interjet, a local Mexican airline. While it was certainly a no-frills flight, I found I had more space than I had on our American Airlines flight to Mexico.

First glimpses of Guatemala

With impressive efficiency we are walking out of Guatemala City airport within thirty minutes of our plane landing. Our transfer driver is standing on the other side of a fence holding a sign with my name. We load on up and are on our way to get our first look at Guatemala.

The evidence of western influence abounds, advertisements for Pepsi (they like their sugary soda drinks here) and fast food chains on the side of the road, and on the road itself. It seems a higher proportion of the cars here are in better condition than in Mexico City, or are higher end vehicles. Toyota’s seem prevalent and motorbikes also appear highly common.

It took a little under an hour to get to Antigua and the change in the road once we enter the town was immediate. The streets were entirely cobblestone. We bump along at a much slower pace until we pull up to our hotel. The driver gets out and rings the bell.

Like most places here we soon find out, the exterior door of the Hotel Candelaria where we will spend our first three nights remains locked.

Courtyards and cobblestones

The main courtyard of our charming hotel

The doors open to the interior of the hotel, a reception area beside an interior courtyard filled with plants and a flowing fountain. The building was a square shape, built around the courtyard, and concealed by an exterior of plain stone walls. The two floors above are the same design. Railings fringe the edge of the hallways the rooms open onto, and there is open sky above the centre courtyard. The final set of railings lines a rooftop terrace. Our room is on the ground floor, with two double beds and a bathroom. It also has a wardrobe, dressing table and chair along the wall. A set of double doors opens onto a corner courtyard with another room on the other side.

I bound up the stairs to the rooftop while Ruth takes the opportunity to lie down.

From the rooftop terrace I can see three volcanoes that look over the town. I learn they are Agua, Acatenango and Fuego. Fuego sits beside Acatenango and is still active, periodically shooting small eruptions of smoke and molten stones into the sky. While I watch it sends up another plume of smoke. In the daylight I can’t see whether molten rock went with it.

My first view of Volcan Agua from the hotel roof

By the time we venture out in search of food darkness has set in. The hotel recommends a location to look for dinner since the hotel doesn’t serve it. Outside the safety of the hotel walls the streets of Antigua were dark. I was uneasy in a new place. The most well-lit option was in the direction recommended by the hotel attendant. Before too long we came to the Hotel San Domingo complete with a lovely rooftop terrace. I enjoyed a tasty bit of steak and a Pina Colada or two. Not knowing the area we happily headed back to our rooms and bed.