I have been bitten by mosquitoes. Not just one mosquito, but a thousand hungry flesh-eating monsters, meaning that I spend most of my time sitting on my hands so as not to scratch, or being told off by Claire for giving in to my (already quite weak) willpower and flaying my skin with my nails. I have a cluster on my left thigh, nearly my bum (is that a haunch?!) which is the size of a golf ball and I am convinced it will hatch spiders in a week or so. I went around the island we were staying on, showing locals my arse, in the vain hope that they'd be able to tell me more, but I was either laughed at or propositioned. Fun times.
We are now in Livingstone in Guatemala, Enrique is crooning in the background in Spanish, and a homeless man just leaned into the open window of the internet cafe and stroked my arm, quite gently.
Our bus ride to San Christobal was bearable but very windy, we were glad to finally get off the bus and stumble to our hostel (one of the few times we've done so without getting lost!) Did lots of Mayan cultural things in the town that the Zapatistas (a guerilla group in defence of indigenous Mayan tribes) originated from, including visiting a museum-slash-medical centre and watching a 12 minute video on traditional village births. Ouch. I will not be giving birth, or looking at an avocado in the same way, in quite a long time. Mehm, if you want more info about this part get Charlie to forward you the facebook message, as I cannot be arsed to type about it again.. there are more exciting things to write about, like islands!
We left San Christobal in a tiny bus crammed full of people and were rudely halted by a roadblock 2km from our destination. So we walked, in the blistering sun, through 3 lanes of stationary traffic, getting beeped at by large trucks holding larger men. A few more buses and taxis later we arrived in the jungle, and dumped our stuff in a little cabana deep in the forest, over a stream. We'd met a lovely French girl from Nice who had a characteristic hatred for rain and Canadians, so had dinner and drinks together before nodding off to the screeching of howler monkeys in the treetops.
The next day it rained. Not just rain, but 'I can't see my hand in front of my face and everything on my body is wet' rain. We´d come all the way to the jungle to see Mayan ruins at Palenque, so, being very British, we struck out armed with waterproofs. It was beautiful, but enthusiasm can only go so far when you're in the middle of a monsoon. Later that day we went to see some waterfalls called Agua Azul, which was one of the most beautiful watery things I have ever seen, and totally eclipsed the rain. Photos soon. We swam, as it was impossible to be any more wet, and hitched a lift home with a tourbus full of Hungarian pensioners.
Another long and arduous journey followed, this time across the border to Belize. I changed money through a chicken wire fence in a covert operation that rivalled drug smuggling, it felt good, but dirty. Bus, taxi and a boat later, and we arrived in San Pedro, subject of the Madonna song 'La Isla Bonita' and Caribbean paradise. Claire quickly got tired of me singing the song at full volume, but the locals seemed to enjoy it. We stayed in an MDF coffin of wonders next to the tiny airstrip, and paid about a tenner for the privilege. Our days were spent on the beach and our nights were spent being chatted up by 14 year old drug dealers (they sell one spliff for $20 and stupid Americans actually buy them). We went to a 'party' with locals which turned out to be a night of drinking rum and squash in someone's apartment whilst watching pirate reggae dvds and making up huge fictional fiance's with an acute jealousy problem. San Pedro was a bit pricey, so we got the boat over to the much smaller and cheaper Caye Caulker. Much nicer hostel and reeally laid back. We drank lots of Belizean beer, swung in many hammocks, and attempted to understand the Creole slang that everyone speaks. On our last day we went snorkelling in the protected marine park. We saw huge fish, a nurse shark, sea turtles and spiny sea stars.. all very exciting! I got nibbled by a 4ft manta ray, one of the simultaneously scariest and most fun experiences of my life, and we thought about free diving down to a cave 15m down but my tiny ineffectual lungs prevented me. Sailed back blasting reggae and drinking rum (two constants in Belize) and went out with the boys in our hostel for a big fish dinner followed by many more beers.
We travelled all day yesterday, making a quick stop at a miniature version of the Blue Hole (a natural limestone cave you can go swimming in), and arrived in Livingston this morning by boat. It has a similarly laid back Caribbean feel to Belize but everyone speaks Spanish again so we're a bit buggered. Went on an epic adventure along the coastline, crunching shells and chasing vultures. We need to get away from the coast to give our burnt bits time to heal!
