I had known since visiting Monterrico that I would need to visit the other coast of Guatemala just for comparison, also becuase it is black sand versus white at the two coasts. My Moon travel guide book, which I have become more reliant on for information and planning, also opined that Guatemala's best beaches are located nearby. The real draw was te Reggae on the River. This was a boat tour along the Rio Dulce river, with stops for cave exploring, hikes in the surrounding terrain, on a large pontoon and with reggae music playing. It was this that I was really hoping to do.
I went through the normal motions, booking my transport to Puerto Barrios. Since there is no roads connecting Livingston to the rest of Guatemala, I would have to catch a motorized boat from the port town of Puerto Barrios to Livingston. The bus was to collect me at 4.30 am so I got up pretty early, my brain unable to comprehend why I'm waking in the absence of natural light.
The bus got to a large bus terminal pretty quickly and within minutes, holding my home delivered bus tickets, I boarded a big bus, comfotable, decorated in various shades of green, a definite step up from a chicken bus, and set off. The bus ride was meant to be 8 hours, which turned into 11 once we encountered a long traffic jam consisting mostly of 18 wheelers, the accident itself nvolving an 18 wheeler. The bus would sit idle for a long time, during which several passengers would run down the street to buy snacks, then jet off for 5 minutes, speeding along, then slowing down to another unbearable halt.
Puerto Barrios was exactly like it was described to me, a place where I stood out as a sore thumb, with sweltering heat, humidity all creating a stuffy atmosphere as if I was in a closed room packed with people rather than outside. While looking for the public harbour, I was accosted by a man who proceeded to explain to me about a female relative of his, in broken English, her unfortunate stay in jail and how she was really quite beautiful. At that point, stonefaced, I did a 360 turn and walked in the opposite direction.
It was not hard finding the public dock, although the first thing that I saw was small fishing boats, before the motorized boat, with rows of seats that had back supports, already full of people, that was to take me to Livingston. The ride itself was fairly enjoyable, the boat carrying itself across the sea lane at a fast pace, allowing the waves to force it upwards, after which it would tumble back to Earth with a thud. All of this would happen with the cool sea breeze grazing my face and beautiful jungle landscapes appearing in the background.
Coming out all the way here just for the boat ride was already worth it. The town itself is pretty samll, thankfully making it easy for me to find my hotel. There two streets of note, one on which all the hotels are, spanning the length of the beach, and the main street that goes through the town, on which most of the restaurants are. Both streets start from the harbour, making it easy for me to find my hotel. Going down the street, I found the hostel that was running the Reggae on the River boat cruise. The choicxe of music is reggae since Livingston also has a Carribean culture, populated by 15000 Garifuna, descendants of Carribean islanders that were shipwrecked nearby. However despite all the positive reviews on Tripadvisor and favourable coverage elsewhere, the tour was discontinued for lack of interest. Something which for me defied disbelief. This feeling already present within me since while walking by some of the cabins I was offered some pot by a resident, only to then see a sign "No drugs allowed. Seriously." I did not let this stop me and arranged an alternative: a tour to a waterfall and to the Playa Blanca, which some claim is the best beach in all of Guatemala.
Through a series of fortunate coincidences I was able to get away with a free boat tour although that only became apparent at the end. Everybody joining me on the tour were staying at the hostel where I had booked the tour and had put into their tab so the boat captain at the dock did not ask anybody for their money. Neither did he at the end but that's a different story. The boat trip throughout the day was more thrilling, even a bit dangerous compared to the day prior. The wind was significantly stronger, creating high and agressive waves. The boat captain disregarded any risk and drove the boat onwards, faster and faster. Hitting each wave the boat would shoot upwards, hanging in the air for a gloriously chilling moment, then crashing down with a thud, knocking my torso up and down, my knees eroding against the hard back of the row in front of me. My neighbour to the left must have swallowed more water than the fish in the ocean, while just ahead of me, a woman with motion sickness, screamed vociferously every time the boat lifted its hull. All of this while sea birds flying over serenely, gliding over and then landing gently, in great contrast to us, a sorry bunch clinging in to the skin of a decrepit little boat. By the time we had got back everyone was relieved, even the boat captain who departing rapidly to drop some of the passengers to Rio Dulce, forgot to ask me for the boat fee.
As for the tour attractions themselves, the waterfalls truly were exquisite. The site is owned by a local Garifuna, who also acts as a mayor of Livingston I was told. he fit the role, a big chubby gentleman, past his middle age but having lost none of his energy or his spright. His cabin and ticket office was simple yet full of memorabila, of his own life, of his passions, namely football pictures of his idols. Aparently few Russians visit these parts since he gasped in awe when I told what my nationality is. To be fair though, his property awed me much more. A river flowing through a series of interconnected pools and waterfalls in the middle of the jungle. This came with ledges for jumping of, which all the local kids did with particular gusto.
I myself preferred the beach even though its not the best I've been to, or even the best in Guatemala. But despite the ocassional piece of log, seaweed, lying on the beach, half of me washed by the gentle warm ocean, the other half getting tanned under the bright sun, felt incredibly liberating and relaxing. Something which iften a feature on my weekeed travels, perfect after 2 semetsers of a challenging and packed first university year.
