I have decided to write about this weekend trip in particular before anything else because it is has simply been the definitive moment of my stay so far. Despite needing an 8 hour trip there and 8 hours more to get back to Antigua and me spending around 100 dollars for this trip, it has unquestionably been worth it and has inspired to me to do certain things differently when I get back to Newfoundland.
But first to give credit where credit's due. I had the privilege of travelling with 2 great fellow volunteers, one of whom was Rob Kirsch Spring, the organiser of the trip. the other was Bitsy Hall, who through her honesty and openness in all of our conversations has helped me more than she knows. I think the memorability of a trip is ultimately decided by the quality of the company you travel with, and even though many travellers are quite happy traveling alone and have the time of their lives, for me a trip is so much more exciting with someone who is as excited as you, and with whom you can spend a lot of time with without wanting to choke them.
The first eight hours were rather tedious but not without their moments. One key stop was made at a restaurant and souvenir shop midway through the drive. I did not get enough time to eat breakfast so eagerly seized the moment to order a churrasquito, which is a small piece of steak along with some fries and tortillas. Eager to start my meal, I hovered around the kitchen where my meal was to be prepared and salivated as others got their meals before me. By the time it was ready, I was feeling quite hungry indeed. So hungry that when my plastic fork and knife became irreparably damaged withing the first minute of me trying to cut through my steak, I proceeded to attempt to manage without them, resulting in me being covered in the meat's sauce but also in the satisfactory consumption of my meal.
The landscape on the way there would not vary significantly, but that does not mean it was not stunningly beautiful. Past the rudimentary structures on both sides of the road, hills green all over and masked on the top by dense mist would tower above us as we pushed on towards Lanquin. The exception to rule was Guatemala City and other urban areas, but even Guatemela City incorporates hills dotted with houses, shacks and huts. Just considering the possibility of living on the side of a steep hill, perched precariously above the abyss frightens me profusely.
We stopped at the 'El Retiro' hostel in Lanquin, a town close to Semuc Champey, which was recomended by multiple sources both on the Internet and from acquaintances who had been there. The hostel itself was a complex of wooden guesthouses right next to the Lanquin river. It had hammocks, offered group river tubing, a very filling buffet dinner and a great bar where for the grand price of 5 quetzals it was possible to spin a fortune wheel where options ranged from the cinnamon challenge, singing a national anthem, jumping into the river and winning a free shot. I did not play but only because the risk to reward ratio was too great and I really did not want to do the cinnamon challenge. The staff were also friendly and helpful, allowing me to practise my Spanish and meet a bartender from the US, who whilst working for room and board was also learning/improving her Spanish. In fact the hostel was full of people with whom it was easy to start an conversation and were ready to share their morsels lof wisdom and impart useful advice. It was by speaking to a Israeli couple that I decided to do the Semuc Champey the next day wearing flip flops.
The tour the next day, which amounted to 180 quetzals, covered transportation to Semuc Champey, entrance fees, cave tour, river tubing, hike and other stuff that I cannot quite remember. The drive to Semuc Champey I can definitely say set the tone to the rest of the day. The ride was in a 4x4 over rugged and bumpy terrain in a narrow and winding dirt path. Holding on for dear life and ducking low branches was definitely the right start to an action packed day. Next was a walk in the caves, bereft of light except for the candles that were handed to us at the entrance. Wading through water that I suspected contained parasites that could cause serious problems for my future well-being, I kept my mouth shut as I climbed up precarious rope ladders, swam and watched people dive off ropcky outcrops. Despite being under supervision at all times, navigating my way in flip flops was no petty task but reaching the end and not losing my candle felt like a genuine accomplishment of strength, flexibility and attention.
Before entering the park of Semuc Champey itself I was able to do some river tubing, which is basically means navigating the river currents of the Lanquin River while resting in a black inflatable ring. It was welcome respite after the darkness of the cave. On the way to the park, whoever wanted to was given the oppotunity to dive of a bridge directly into the river itself, from a height of much closer to 20 than 10 metres. Still wanting to minimize the risk of ingesting any water, I refused, foreseeing myself emerging from the water, blind and disoriented and inevitably ingesting many a mouthful of water. Still I could not feel slightly embarassed by the local children for whom jumping off such a height was easy and normal, without a single care or worry about the height, the fast flowing river below or any of the parasites in it.
After that was the park itself. The first part was a hike up to a splendid mirador (viewing point) from where stunning views of the valleys, river and the series of tiered limestone pools of varying shades of turquoise could be seen. The hike was led by a young boy of 12 named Juan, walking barefoot up the steep wooden stairs, protruding rocks in a calm, collected manner while the rest laboured behind him, panting and gasping for more air and becoming sweatier as the altitude increased. the sandwich that I had at the top, while surrounded by beautiful vistas was the tastiest egg sandwich I have ever had.
Following that, we hiked down to the ultimate prize itself, the El Dorado of the whole trip, the pools themselves. My excitement peaked as I sprinted towards them, slipping on the yellow limestone and then slowing down to a crawl as I became bogged down in the limestone, tumbling over just I would try to get up. Walking the final metres to reach the water itself proved trickier than the descent where I was able to jump, run and confidently glide my way through. But just as I jumped into the water, I started to also feel rain hitting my back, and such was the intensity of the rain that it was almost as if it was massaging my back. It even became warmer to stay in the water, as the rain lowered the outside temperature significantly. But I could not simply relax in the water, for it was populated by surprisingly hungry fish who had found a taste for me and my peeling skin from my previous sun-burns. Were I to stay still for even 2 minutes, the fish would sense opportunity and snap at me so hard that I would feel them tug at my leg hairs, making me jump up and shout unkind words at them. Still it stimulated me to move and keep moving which is hardly a bad thing.
Having had such a busy day I was surprised that I dreamt a lot that night, and that I was able to remember my dreams, which happens very rarely, in extraordinary situations, and this time I was inspired to do certain things differently when I'm back in St John's, not just because of the previous day but also because of my conversations with Bitzy, the beauty, the sheer simpleness of life and the relaxation that I experienced. There has never been anything quite like it.
