Mexico, Belize, Guatemala part three; Guatamala

PICTURES! Finally. I'll download these and get them put in soon, but for now if you want to take a peak at some pictures Steve took durring this trip go HERE! The guy with the longer hair is Steve, the other is me.

Read part one here
Read part two here

After refusing to seperate from our luggage, Steve and I found ourselves riding into Guatamala on top of a large bus as it bounced down a tore up, mostly dirt highway.

"Tree" Steve would shout and we'd duck behind some luggage to keep from getting beaten up by low hanging branches. The kid who'd sent us up to the roof to begin with would crawl though the bus windows and up to where we were to fetch luggage. He'd then swing back through the window. He risked his life to keep the passengers moving on and off efficiently at each stop. He was beautiful to watch as he climbed and swung about with the kind of grace that only comes from doing something over and over again. I wondered how long he'd been at it. In America kids could do dangerous things, like skateboarding in pools or playing football, but they weren't allowed to be paid for it.

We were at a stop in front of a little store when three kids who must've been about eight or nine years old climbed up to sell us some Cokes. After riding on top of a bus, down a dusty road, with trees theatening my life every few minutes a nice cold Coke sounded great, and they were in glass bottles. There are few things in life that could hit the spot like a Coke in a glass bottle. So we paid for our two bottles, which the kids dumped into baggies, with a straw. I tried to stop them. I tried to tell them I'd pay them the extra, whatever they were going to get for recycling, but my Spanish was limited to finding beer and bathrooms. Steve's Spanish, limited but better than mine was increasingly useless the further south we got and so we drank our baggies of Coke.

As we got closer to the border there was room for our bags to hang out with us inside the bus so we road with people the rest of the way, and chickens, and maybe some rabbits, I think there may have even been some goats.

We got to the border and were processed. It was exciting to be getting more stamps in my passport. I'd been warned that this was a dangerous border and not to cross it at night, hence our getting up early to catch the bus. Once through the border we went to check out a market that Steve had heard about. It was none too impressive. Tables sitting in the hot sun selling yard sale type items and wilted food. A drunk attached himself to me. What do I do to attract these people? I didn't have pancakes with him or buy him a beer? I was just minding my own business. He spoke no english and I couldn't understand his Spanish at all. A German again came to my rescue. The drunk and the German both spoke French. Even the street people in Guatamala are bilingual. Which reminds me of a joke. What do you call people who speak two languages? Bilingual, and what do you call people who speak three languages? Trilingual, and what do you call people who speak one language? ...American!

So we got away from the drunk and we were HOT, and hungry, and thirsty. I couldn't believe how hot it was. We found a hotel that was pretty swanky looking and totally lifeless. But the restaraunt was open and it was air conditioned so we had two ice teas and one bowl of bean soup which we savored so that we could stay in the Air Conditioning as long as possible. It wasn't as pleasurable as we'd hoped as we were distracted by thoughts of finding a place to stay and getting to somewhere that felt a little less crazy.

I think we found some kind of free shuttle to Tikal, a 2,000 year old Mayan city. Tikal had a nice visitors center with a beatiful grass lawn surround on three sides by rain forest and where you were welcome to camp. We picthed our hammocks and had a strange night. The noises were incredible, like nothing I'd ever heard. Screaming somethings, I assumed birds, were all around us, from every side they'd scream and respond with different voices and songs. It was like falling asleep at a werehouse party. Of course, I'd plenty of experience with that, and eventually I drifted off. At sunrise new noises began and Steve and I excitedly hopped out of our hammocks and headed to ward the trail that would take us through the rainforest to the pyramids.

I was again reminded of Disney Land as I we started walking into the lush heavy growth. Ha ha, Walt you sure made an impression on me. We were wide eyed spotting lizards and birds and yes, even monkeys. We heard a roar, like a lions. "Holy Crap, what the hell was that?" one of us asked. We kept walking, hearing the roar again until finally we came to fork in the road and spotted a little black monkey. When that monkey opened his mouth, it seemed bigger than the rest of his body combined and MAN WAS HE LOUD! His roar would put a lion to shame. Steve and I laughed, but I was also scared, not that I'd be bitten, but the poo would be flung. You see, I'd heard form friends of monkey's flinging poo at them. I'd boasted that in such a situation I would take a dump and fling back and now, I knew I might have my bluff called, only I also knew that if it came down to it, I might not let if be a bluff. We continued walking and then I noticed we were being followed. Four or five monkeys were swinging along next to us, howling, and I was sure, getting ready to fling. But then they reached some sort of line in the sand and they let us bee. I was not forced to poop in my hand, and that is always a good thing.

We reached a pyramid that had forset crowing up right to it and we started to climb. The pyramid went up above the canopy of the rainforest and then some. It was breathtaking to sit on top and look out over miles of green. An englishman had a seat by us and we got to talking. We made fun of some tourist upon reaching the top, snapped a pick to prove they'd been there and headed right back down. The Englishman had been all over the world on a special deal allowing for multiple fights to pretty much any destination. I think he paid for a certain number of miles but it was some insanely high amount for and insanely low price. I asked him who were the most obnoxious tourist and knowing what I was thinking he told me that it was not Americans. He told me that from his experience the Japanese were much pushier than us Yanks. And then he told us a great story.

A group of Japanese business men were at a fence, and a group of monkeys were sleeping peacefully on the other side of it. Wanting to be entertained one of the businessmen grabbed a stick an poked the monkey. When the monkey swatted, annoyed, at the stick all the men started laughing. The monkey shifted positions and tried to go back to sleep but he recieved another poke. The monkey climbed up, out of range of the stick, but the businessman then began chucking little pebbles. The monkey sat up, scratched it's head and as another pebble sailed in he shot of his perch bouncing off the Japanese businessman's shoulder and up into a tree taking the business mans thick glasses into the tree with him. The businessman shouted and put his hands out for the glasses. The monkey offered the glasses, only to snap them back again. He then broke off one handle. By now all the monkeys were awake and being greatly entertained by this. The Monkey methodically and with great delight broke the glasses, bit by bit. First the other handle, then one lens, the other lens, final he broke the frames right in half and threw them to the ground. He curled up in the the tree and went back to sleep.

The Englishman was heading out and we had more exploring to do so went our seperate ways. We found the main pyramids in a large clearing and we went exploring. It was strange to see the metal grates and electric lighting everything. I was glad these pyramids were so well preserved but compared to some of the others we'd scene they also seemed somewhate compromised. We found some areas away from the hustle and bustle of tourist and we made noise, listening to the echos. We sat and just quietly thought about where we were.

The pyramids were designed in such a way to work with the solstice, once a year, forming a snake out of shadows down the steps. I was impressed to hear of this and of the disembowling celebrations that went on. It was dissappointing to hear that they were installing electic lights that would simulate this effect every night, though this wouldn't keep it from being extra cool when it happened naturally.

The Mayans are not extinct. They are there, at Kital selling trinkets to tourists. Whoever supplies them with the trinkets also supplies them with some sales pitches. "Something for you girlfriend?" and outheld would be a necklace. "Something for your wife?" and a bit of pottery would be offered. "Something for your mother in law?" and a large machete would be waved about menacingly. It was funny, at first, just because it was cross cultural and strange. But then we heard the same joke at every other table. In fact I'm sure some of the merchants were speaking phoneticly with no idea what they were saying. And every other table would promise that their plated silver was "not plated."

We stopped and talked to one boy who offered us something for our boyfriends. I didn't figure he thought we were gay. That happened at home, but I was looking pretty butch on this trip especially next to all the flowered shirt wearing tourists. I decided to help him out before some redneck took a swing at him. This kid was awesome. He pulled out his little notebook which had three rows. Row one feature drawings, man, woman, etc. and row two had the english word, spanish in row three. Steve and I corrected a few for him and managed to have a bit of a conversation with him. I'm guessing he was young, 16 or 17 maybe and I was amazed that he was out here selling merchandise, teaching himself Spanish and English. He was very charismatic and I have no doubt he'd be doing alright for himself.

We went to an little indoor souvenier and there we found the ugliness. In the tradition of those horrible t-shirts featuring skeletons or puppies or childrens cartoon favorites in various sexual positions, they had little satuettes of Mayan gods, doin' it, doin' it doggy style, doin' it, um, other style. Wow. I wonder how long a city is dead before digging up their dead is archeology and not grave robbing and I wonder how poor and disempowered a civilization has to be before it's acceptable to portray their gods doin' a little 69 action.

We'd had a long day and we were exhausted from walking up and down pyramids. I was amazed to discover that it wasn't late at all. We hit a grocery makert and scored some avacodos for about a quarter a peace. Young kids, like early teens young worked as baggers and the kid that helped us was so nice and polite and friendly and self posessed in a way you just don't see in American Kids. We tipped him a buck and I realized that was a huge tip, but the market was close to a tourist stop and I was guessing these kids could actually make pretty decent tips. It's interesting how in tourist based economies someone making tips can end up makeing more than other people in professional positions. I've heard that in Cuba Doctor's are taking jobs as waiters and waitresses to get the American dollars flowing in.

We decided to take a bus back into Mexico (Guatamala borders Mexico and Belize.) We'd been out almost a week now and it was time to head back home, but we'd take a different route and see some new sites. The bus was promised to be primo deluxe and travelling in comfort with air conditioning actually sounded pretty nice. It wasn't. My seat was broken and leaned forward, the airconditioning didn't actually condition the air in any discernable way and the only available seats were in the back so I was getting ill from the swaying and bouncing. Funny, I felt fine up on top of the first bus going into Guatamala. We reached the border and got across with no problem.

Click Here for part 4: The Journey Home, featuring crazy teacher with drunk kids, booze cruise madness and more.