I'll begin this blog with an update on our mosquito bites (always popular) -- having spent almost a week bite-free and forming a case against Deet as a conspiracy theory concocted by the global pharmaceutical companies I got ravaged the other day, and am causing general hilarity with my ill-timed and inappropriate itching bouts. Claire also got bitten by 55 bed bugs on each arm (she counted) and do you think she moaned? Yes. It was almost insufferable.
So after the Caribbean town of Livingston we ventured to a finca in the jungle for pursuits such as kayaking, skinny dipping and playing ring of fire in the dark after curfew (we got in trouble for disturbing the Mormon dentist missionaries). The kayaking was amazing, we got a bit lost amidst the mangroves and found a natural thermal pool called, appropriately, 'agua caliente'. Later that night we formed a bond of non-missionaryism with German and Austrian girls and some American guys and played drinking games until lights out, then continued with our headtorches on, which was terrifying as huge moths then began to fly into our faces. Ugh. We swam in the river which was full of phosporescent algae (amazing and slightly freaky), then lay on the deck and swung off the rope swing into the water until about 4am. The Mormon dentists woke us at 6. They have no respect.
We have decided to live our lives according to the whim of dice (see trashy 80s novel 'The Dice Man' for further info) and they dictated that we left the finca the next morning. Our next destination was Quetzaltenango, 200 miles away from where we were. Three buses, fifteen hours, many chickens and the hottest day of my life later, and we're there. My camera was not. Quetzaltenango (Xela for short) was beautiful, but slightly marred by my lack of camera, so we stayed there for a couple of days and met some lovely Guatemalan guys to practice our Spanish on, but left pretty quickly.
We moved on to Chichicastenango, a little Mayan hilltop town with a huge Sunday market, reached by a long and winding journey through mountains, brightly painted shopfronts and tiny farms. We made friends with some beautiful girls from Holland and spent the next few days with them. Attempted to haggle with the Mayan women over assorted handicrafts but they are hardcore!! Bought a beautiful tablecloth (typing that makes me feel very mumsy).
Continuing on our speedy trip around Guatemala, we caught the usual series of chicken buses to Panajachel on the coast of Lago de Atitlan, a huuge lake in the highlands surrounded by pretty towns and luxurious hotels. We arrived in our pretty town of San Pedro de la Laguna by lancha (small motorboat) on a windy day, and, hilariously, Claire and her luggage were drenched. I placated her with hot chocolate and the fortuitous arrival of both our French friend Ornella (see Mexico blog) and the Dutch girls. We went to dinner with them at the home of some French-Canadian boys, and were treated to freshly caught (with a harpoon!) fish, serenading, and tales of their lives as tree-planters (seriously) and getting arrested by the Guatemalan police (again, seriously). We had a beach day the following day, and explored our adorable little town (complete with a large Jewish population and delicious falafel). Having decided that we were having far too much fun and not doing enough gruelling 'life experience stuff' we decided to climb a volcano. 3,000 metres worth. We arose at 5 and slogged our way up the mountain behind our 60 year old mountain goat of a guide. The view from the top was absolutely stunning, we were up in the clouds and could see all of the teeny tiny towns dotted around the lake. That evening (after a loooong nap) we went for drinks and watched a band of 17 year olds do Buena Vista Social Club with synthesisers. Amaze.
Easter week in Central America is a biiiig deal, it's called Semana Santa and hotels get booked up four months in advance. We did not know this! Luckily (and thanks to a misleadingly attractive picture of us at our uni ball in second year) we arranged to meet a guy in Antigua via couchsurfing.org and stay at his house. Antigua is a beautiful colonial town with fountains, gardens and old crumbling churches; quite incongruous to the rest of Guatemala. We met our new friend Pampa in his friend's bar at 6pm, armed with rum and wine (our mothers taught us to never arrive empty handed) and rolled out at closing time, having spent an entire day's budget on beer. Oops. Slept on a mattress on the floor (better than other beds we've had) and drunkenly decided to go and climb Volcan Pacaya the next day. So we did.
Our second volcano in three days was pretty hardcore, but we manned up and got to the top with minimal complaining. The scenery was awesome, like nothing else I've ever seen before. Huge rivers of volcanic rock had cooled into scary black waves in between the forest, and mists of clouds gave everything an otherworldly feeling. Liiike.. Wuthering Heights meets Jurassic Park. Eventually we left all the greenery behind and scrambled over the fiercely sharp rock to reach the lava. Lava is very exciting, to say the least. I had badgered Claire with my excitement for the entire climb, and continued to do so as I hopped around on crumbling rocks, occassionally slipping just a little further down the volcano.. I calmed down eventually, before falling to my death.
We stayed with Pampa for another night, then got a million buses to Sipacate, way off the beaten track and on the Pacific coast so that Claire could fulful a lifetime ambition of surfing the pacific. We arrived in the arse-end of nowhere, got a boat across the canal to what was essentially the Butlins of Guatemala, and they had no surfboards! They did, however, have 5ft waves and black sand, so it was still pretty cool. That night we took advantage of the 6 beers for 4 pounds offer and got drunk whilst playing pool and talking about boys. We met some very sweet boys in our hostel from Guatemala City, who took us dancing on the beach and showed us how to salsa. You had to pay per song, and it was hilarious being stopped mid-flow by a short angry dance-nazi demanding cash. We danced until the early hours then got a tuk-tuk back to our hotel. I say hotel -- we slept on beds made from straw.
We spent yesterday and last night in Guatemala City (which is horrible) and slept in the most disgusting hotel so far. You could rent the rooms by the hour (not that you'd want to) and ours was full of dirty mattresses and huge cockroaches. We have a system of 'alpha points' earned for directions, ingenuity and other patriarchal necessities, and I lost all of mine by screaming like a girl when I saw my first roach. Niiice.
Transferred to Honduras this morning in a luxury bus, and we're now in Copan Ruinas, a lovely little town where all the men wear cowboy hats. Thinking about doing a trek through the jungle to earn back my alpha points, but will keep you posted.
