Bats and Fleas and Things in Trees

I last wrote in Coban, meaning I've done and seen a lot of things since... I guess I start from the beginning.

From Coban, I made my way by local bus to Lanquin. Sounds easy, except the bus station was printed in the wrong place in the Lonely Planet (typical). So I wandered through Coban asking person after person where the bus station was, and everyone would say something along the lines of "See where those people are standing over there? It's right there." So I would walk on over there, check to see if I was in the right place, and I would be told I should be another couple of blocks away. Then another couple of blocks. And another. Eventually, at the edge of town, I found myself ushered into what they call a microbus (usually about a 15-passenger van).

In Lanquin, I spent the afternoon chilling out and getting my bearings, made friends with an Aussie roommate named Jeremy, and then he and I set out for the Grutas de Lanquin (Lanquin Caves) around 5:00pm. This is a crazy series of caves with lots of cool formations to look at, and the piece de resistance: bats. Every evening at dusk thousands of bats fly out of the caves. We all took a seat near the entrance and watched for 30-40 minutes while more and more bats poured out overhead. It was so amazing and wild to see that many bats whizzing above you, and a little less amazing to have spent an hour beforehand wandering through caves trying not to slip on the huge amount of bat shit on the ground.

The other purpose of my visit to Lanquin was to explore the nearby Semuc Champey. This is quite cool, and worth looking up. There is a river running through the jungle until it plunges into the ground below a huge limestone bridge and surfaces again 300 metres later. Above the limestone are beautiful cascading pools of freshwater for swimming. My time spent in that park was gorgeous, and I would gladly go back again. Actually, I guess I could have if I weren't in need of border hopping to renew my visa. When Jeremy and I returned to the hostel after a fairly wild ride standing in the back of a pick-up truck (regular mode of transport in the area, it's outfitted with a big rack to hold onto), who did I find getting off a microbus but Itay! It seems he changed his plans before leaving Guatemala, and randomly turned up at the very same place I randomly ended up at. The typical travelling story.

If I had been considering staying longer in Lanquin to hang out with Itay, I definitely was not once I woke up the next morning. The previous day, after Semuc Champey, I found myself very itchy and covered in bites. They didn't seem like they could be bedbug bites (I've never had one myself, so I don't know how I'd react), but seemed strange for mosquito bites. However, I just resigned myself to the fact I had been bitten, perhaps by a pathetic species of mosquito, and went on to bed. When I woke up after my second night in Lanquin, there was no doubt that something was feasting on me while I slept. I was covered head-to-toe in hundreds of bites, many of which were in rows. One wise traveller told me, "Those are flea bites. That happened to me in Chile." Just great. And if I had any doubt about whether she was right, once I packed up my stuff and hopped on a bus to move on to the next town, I felt a little bite, looked down at my shoulder, and what did I find but a flea. That flea didn't make it, and I don't think any of its buddies managed the trip from Lanquin to Flores. [Aside: After two days of antihistamines, the flea bites are beginning to go down. I feel like a neglected dog or a cat. Does anyone have a spare flea collar?]

The bus trip to Flores took something near forever. I had to take a bus back to Coban, where naturally I had to find my way to some more remote bus station, then a bus to El Cruce, to Sayaxche, a little boat across a very little river there (about a 30-60 second crossing, the most hilarious required transport I think I have ever needed), and a final bus to Santa Elena/Flores. The trip was about eight hours in total, but never did I wait for a bus (or a boat). Every time I arrived somewhere, I was instantly ushered onto another mode of transport and my backpack grabbed and flung along with me. A country that doesn't operate on fixed schedules is my kind of a place to travel.

The reason for my trip to Flores was to visit Tikal. How could I possibly visit Guatemala without visiting the mother of Mayan ruins? In Flores, I was determined to stay at Los Amigos Hostel. Jeremy and Itay had both strongly recommended it, so the fact that the dormitories were full did not sway me. You rent hammocks for 20 quetzales per night? Alright, I'll stay in a hammock. According to the manager, I didn't look like the kind of person who would be willing to sleep in a hammock, but whether or not I was that kind of person before, I certainly am now. My two nights in Flores sleeping in a big, heavy, denim hammock were absolutely beautiful. The climate is warm there, so the temperature only gets a little cool right before sunrise, and there was a roof overhead to keep any potential rain off. What more could I ask for? Well, some means of shutting up the quail who live in the garden next to the hammocks would have been nice. Oddly, they squawk like mad from about 4:30am-6:00am, and then they give up. Why they need to squawk before the sun shows any sign of rising is beyond me.

The ruins of Tikal were incredible to visit. Unlike many other ancient ruins, these were built amidst the jungle. As I elected to tour the ruins without a guide, I spent most of my time there properly alone. Not just apart from other tourists, but with none in my sight. You walk through a well-beaten path in the jungle, see a few monkeys, maybe a toucan, hear countless birds, and then see a Mayan temple rise up behind the trees as you approach. The ruins were so peaceful to visit, and magnificent in their size. When you climb the higher temples, you can sit at the top, look out over endless rain forest, and see a few other temples poke out through the canopy of treetops. But what Tikal has in size, it lacks in detail. I'm sure I would have been made to understand much more with a guide rather than just a guidebook, but many of the hieroglyphs of Tikal are worn beyond recognition. For that, I'm glad I visited the ruins of Copan. They were much smaller, but looked as though the years had taken no toll.

After my second dreamy night in my wonderful Flores hammock, I have come to Belize. Sounds easy, but of course my bus broke down before it reached the border (so did my bus from Tikal back to Flores yesterday). So far, being here is quite nice. Granted, the prices for tourists are jacked up ridiculously, and a cheap bed is $10 per night, but there's something very comforting about seeing the Queen on my money again and about having gotten that money from the local Scotiabank. I love being away and exploring, but you can't beat the cozy feeling of familiarity when strange has become the norm.

Presently, I am in San Ignacio. It's a cute little town, and I've already walked through all of it and most of the town across the river as well. Tomorrow, the plan is to head to Belize City and to see about visiting a howler monkey sanctuary (maybe not in that order). From there I'll head out to Caye Caulker, where I will do my best to snorkel off the beaches and not pay a cent on diving, and then make my way down the coast and back into Guatemala. All in all, I think I should be in Belize roughly one week. I should be fun; I'm excited!