Ruined out

Yes, there. I said it. I'm completely ruined out. That's right, me and the Mayan pyramids need some space. Don't get me wrong, I'm so lucky to have been able to set eyes on these ancient marvels and it's been fascinating wandering, and in some cases climbing, through civilizations that have remained amazingly intact for centuries, but quite frankly I'm exhausted! There's an art to visiting ruin sites. First you have to beat the hoards of tourists who show up in buses at 9am, or thereabouts. This often means a pre-dawn wake-up call, because once these guys are on the scene any chance of capturing the greatness of a solitary pyramid or enjoying the silence of the jungle goes out the window. Hand-in-hand with tourists are the haggling vendors. These guys reserve spaces within the national parks and one by one attempt at convincing you to purchase a 'treasure'. Do they think I came all the way to buy a ceramic plate? Next there's the question of whether to get a guide or not and, from much experience, for tours lasting a couple of hours I'm going to go with no. A guide usually means being in a big group (more competition for people-less pics) and too often their personal anecdotes make something which could be enjoyed in three hours labour on for a frustrating five. Finally, at those sites that are unrestricted, there's what I'll call the ruin workout. It may not sound like much but if you're like me and have to explore every nook and cranny, coupled with being a tad out of shape, climbing these masses can be strenuous. Think stair climbs x 20! I sound negative don't I? I'm not really. In ruin talk, over two weeks I saw a true backyard jungle, some seriously primely located real estate, a seventh wonder and a hieroglyphs heaven! So while I may not be booking the first flight to Egypt, I don't regret a single minute spent at any of these sites (except maybe hours four and five with our guide in Tikal).

Clockwise from top left: Tikal, Tulum, Chichen Itza and Palenque

First was Guatemala's Tikal. If you're familiar with Tikal you'll have images of enormous stone structures poking out onto the horizon from underneath lush jungle. People had told us the site was amazing and, as our first ruins visit in a while, we made Flores our next stop. The plan was to, once in Flores, take an hour long bus to the Tikal National Park where we'd sleep the night and get up at the crack of dawn to watch the sun rise from one of the ancient temples. The only problem was that it was a Sunday and by the time we'd got there the last Tikal-bound bus had left. Now to be honest, Flores isn't a place you'd spend more than a day in, and we certainly weren't about to exceed that, so we cut our losses and signed up for a tour which would pick us up from our hostel at 4:30am. Cue early wake-up.

And henceforth the organised-tour-induced frustration commenced. First it was the waiting 40 minutes to collect other tourists from within a 200m radius of where we sat parked. Sunlight emerging. Then there was the announcement that, 'oh the park entry fee isn't included', at which point most of those who took 40 minutes to get to the tour bus retreated to their accommodation for extra cash. Sun appearing on horizon. Then there was the inescapable petrol station stop. Sun rising. In short, my painful early morning - a sacrifice for the sake of watching the sunrise atop a temple - was all but lost in the back of a tour bus. I did get one measly through-the-grubby-window shot of what was a brilliant sky.

Irritation aside, we reached Tikal in one piece and, being pre-9am, we were one of the few tourist groups there. Also putting aside the gag-worthy onion smelling ceiba trees and a guide who said in a twisted Guatemalan/US accent: 'you get what I mean guys?', after every sentence, Tikal was a truly extraordinary place and surpassed my expectations, well all but the sunrise one. The immensity of the temples which sit undisturbed in the middle of a monkey-filled jungle was at times unworldly. A friend of mine described it as like a scene from Star Wars, maybe a little greener and without the space ships. Added to the enjoyment of it all (and possibly to the future detriment of the site) is the fact that you can climb all over these age-old relics, which is what we did over the next five hours, scurrying over small scale pyramids and hauling ourselves up steep temple stairs to marvel at the stone studded horizon. As the opening act to our highly anticipated ruins circuit, the once kingdom of King Moon Double Comb - love that name - was going to be pretty hard to beat.

Tikal

The next stop on the ruin itinerary was Tulum, Mexico. This meant another day-long bus ride, a few border crossings and, as we're now used to with Central America travel, a few surprises along the way. Surprises like a stopover in Belize City which we were asured would not happen, making the seven hour journey eleven. Oh, and then there was the illegal 'border crossing fee' we were charged when we crossed from Guatemala to Belize, just another one to addto the list. It wasn't until 1am that we arrived in Tulum and crashed at 'The Weary Backpacker' hostel (appropriate name considering the state we were in), although the blood-stained sheet I discovered I'd been sleeping on when I woke up made the decision to move on an easy one (yuuuuuukk!!). We were much more comfortable staying at the 'Papaya Playa' beach resort where we gladly succumbed to happy hour, the Spanish bar tender throwing in a few freebies. The best part about this place was that it was nesting season for sea turtles and on beach walk one night, from a distance we saw an enormous turtle haul herself up the beach before laying her eggs in the dunes and returning to the ocean.

Swinging bar seats at Papaya Playa and sea turtle nesting tracks

But what we'd really come for were the ruins, and let me just say that if I'd been a Mayan back in the day, Tulum would have been the ultimate beach-town getaway. Although nowhere near the incredible scale of Tikal, the draw card is all about location, location, location. Perched high on the coastline and surrounded by the oh so familiar Caribbean turquoise, Tulum is like a picture postcard. And considering we could only withstand the Mexican heat for an hour or so, the hour we did spend there was well worth it, it was stunning.

Tulum

With Chichen Itza and Palenque on the horizon we decided to give the ruins a breather and take a stab at the cheesy Cancun and Isla Mujers. Turns out there was a little too much cheese for us there (except at the amazing 'Comono' Turkish restaurant where the Mediterranean cheese plate was exquisite) and, having spent less than 24 hours in the tourist infested hubs, we settled on the quieter city of Merida, close to the west coast. This was definitely more our style with its leafy family packed plazas and music filled streets. The icing on the cake was the 'Hostel Zocalo' which served up an impressive spread of fresh fruit and cereal to kick start every day and had a fully equipped kitchen for our love of cooking. Big tick!

For us, Merida was for relaxing. We spent our days wandering the streets, enjoying the weekend festivities and watching the pensioners-only salsa club dance up a storm. On one day we ventured to the nearby Celestun where we were tempted by the promise of Flamingo sightings but were disappointed when, on arrival, we were told that because it was 'low season' the flamingos preferred to stay out of public view. Perhaps, we thought, this was a sign that we should have stayed on the relaxation train in Merida or maybe should return to our scheduled ruins visits. The latter prevailed and the next day we were awake by 5am and at Chichen Itza by 8am.

Charged by a $5 cappuccino from the exorbitantly priced coffee cart, I was ready to go. And Chichen Itza gets straight down to business. Staring at us on entry was the object of the seventh wonder title, 'El Castillo' or, 'the Castle', a huge four-sided pyramid in the centre of an expansive green lawn, its plumed serpent carving guarding the steps to the temple at the top. Had we visited in April we might have caught Elton John performing alongside the massive structure. And such carvings are definitely one of the most striking things about these ruins, similar ones can to be seen all over the site, my favourtie were those of human skulls on the Tzompantli. We wandered through the ball court, having fun with its acoustics along the way, and left the 'Caracol' or 'snail' (sometimes referred to as the observatory) just before the bus loads of tourists piled in. As we self-guided ourselves through each stone structure, what I found astonishing was how evident the sophistication and mathematical brilliance of these people was. For example, in the observatory which was built specifically around the astronomical path of Venus, or the Castillo which was constructed in a way so that, during the Spring and Autumn equinox, the shadow of a plumed serpent appears on the pyramid's face. These people were brainy!

Chichen Itza

At this point, and as the subject of this post would suggest, we were almost ruined out. We'd visited three major sites in under two weeks and my body shuddered at the thought of another early morning, us against the tourtist buses. We discussed over our last dinner in Merida, 'should we or shouldn't we?' After Palenque we were off to San Cristobal de las Casas and it was tempting to go straight there. There must have been something in the delicious sun-dried tomato and goat's cheese sauce that topped my spaghetti at Cafe Chocolate because there was a change in my mood, I was determined to conquer Palenque. Our new plan was relatively straight forward: we'd finish dinner, catch the night bus to Palenque, be there by 8am, see the site and hop on a bus to San Cristobal. And that's just what we did. The added bonus? The local drunk who insisted on accompanying us to the Merida bus station. 'Welcome, I've been looking for you guys', he said to our blank faces. 'I am the light and the way'. At this point, I was pretty sure he wasn't Jesus Christ. In any case he made our final hour in Merida a good one, and as we said our goodbyes and he waded through the ankle-deep water that had flooded the road, his last words were reassuring: 'Don't worry about me, I'm a Warrior'.

So at this point of our travels, we were getting pretty tired. Night buses are never good news, I'd like to meet one person who has slept the whole way through on a night bus. We wanted food, showers and sleep in that order and what we were about to get was humidity, naggy vendors and stair climbs (Palenque is another site where climbing the ruins is permitted). So I'm not going to lie, I can't say we realised Palenque's full potential. We were there by 9am, did some wandering around the spacious site, took some pics of the unspoiled hieroglyphics and decided to make a dash for the 11.30 bus to San Cristobal. Maybe next time I come back I'll dedicate a couple more hours to poor old Palenque, but I'd survived an intense fortnight mastering the art of ruins touring, and let me tell you, it was no mean feat.


Palenque

Releasing my inner Batman

Bats have always kind of creeped me out. They're not exactly cute and cuddly with their sharp teeth and beady black eyes that shine out of their fury little heads, not to mention their sharp claws which are more than capable of an eye gauge. I never liked evening trips to the Sydney Botanical Gardens, the fear of evil swooping bats far outweighed beautiful sunsets. Nope, bats have never been up there with horses and dolphins on my favourite animals list, and they certainly weren't up there on my things-to-see-in-Lanquin list. Still, somehow the little critters managed to wriggle their way onto our two day agenda.

So how did it get to this point? We'd decided that a two day stopover in Lanquin and Semuc Champey - quoted as being Guatemala's most beautiful destination - was in order on our way north to the famous Mayan ruins of Tikal. First, however, we were back on the road in a big way, for a gruelling day of travel which started on the 5am shuttle in Todos Santos. After a long 12 hours and with connections in the tiny town of Buenos Aires (not quite like the one in Argentina), Aguacatan, Sacopulos, Uspantan and Coban we fiiiinally reached Lanquin, well known for its caves. And, equally relieving to having survived the landslide prone road to Coban in one piece, was arriving at 'El Retiro'. Situated about half a kilometre from the centre of Lanquin, this place just had the chilled out vibe we were craving. Dotted with hammocks, it sits on the bank of a fast flowing river in the middle of a green valley, cows lazily grazing nearby. We were lucky enough to get the loft room of a dorm, so we paid the same price for what was essentially a private room, a short climb up a wooden ladder climb. You could definitely lose yourself in a place like this and that's just what we did. The next day consisted of a big sleep in, breakfast at the conveniently located restaurant 20 metres from our door, after which we spent the day lazing in hammocks reading our books, the lodge cat never far away. The only thing we had scheduled for that day was a visit to 'the bat cave' in the evening. Why would I opt to do this you ask, given my position on bats? Quite simply it was a mix of rave reviews from people we'd met the night before over a beer, and a little bit of coaxing from Bec. So I agreed to go, only after I was assured that no, the bats wouldn't touch me.

5pm came around quickly and it was then that we embarked on our journey, lined up like sardines in the back of a ute with Richard and Georgia, an English couple who'd also signed up for the tour, and of course, a tour guide. And within a few minutes of arriving, what was I doing but holding a bat. No the bats wouldn't touch me but there was the opportunity to touch a groggy bat, woken by the guide who retrieved it from a nearby crevice. Not one to shy away from a challenge I somewhat reluctantly held the bat for a few seconds before gladly passing it on. Later I'd find myself holding a scorpion spider which the guide found inside the dark depths of the cave, so it was bats and spiders in the same sitting, quite a big deal for me!

 A sleepy bat and getting acquainted with a Scorpion spider

Anyway, back to the cave. The point of the tour was to venture about a kilometre inside the well-lit cave to see the thousands of inhabiting bats getting their last hour of beauty sleep before undertaking their nightly activities. After this, we would head back the way we came just in time for sunset, at which point, the bats fly out of the cave in their thousands to do their bat thing. Apparently, we were told, this is quite a sight. The cave itself was beautiful and, while awfully slippery, we had the benefit of the guide's visions of certain rock formations - my personal favourite, a sombrero wearing skeleton... . We even had time to take a detour to another bat sleeping hole. This, I discovered as I scaled more than my height up a very narrow crescent (thankfully with a little guide help), was a detour not for the faint hearted, and looked more like a Spiderman manoeuvre to be honest.

At around 6:30pm we emerged from the cave, dusk quickly falling, and sat eagerly at its entrance, awaiting the arrival of the bats. Almost on cue as the first couple of bats flapped their little bat wings toward the diminishing light, we were all 'Wooooow's. With that, the guide quickly informed us: 'this is nothing'. And sure enough, it was nothing. Not more than five minutes later we were inundated with the sound of intense flapping and the sight of thousands of little red eyes flashing in time with our cameras. It was serious rush hour in this bat cave, very fascinating to experience and, to my great relief, I wasn't touched once (except by Richard who thought it amusing to simulate bat landings on my head).

 Bats in flight

The following morning we made our way to Semuc Champey. This time our journey in the back of the same ute would last a tumultuous 40 minutes, the space a tad more crowded with 15 people. We also made a quick pit stop in the local hospital so that poor Bec, whose hand and arm had inflated Michelin Man style after an unidentified insect bite, could get a shot of antihistamine. Once arrived, destination one was another cave, but this time not of the bat variety. On this expedition we were to explore the stalactites and stalagmites by candlelight, at points up to our necks in water! It took quite a bit of getting used to, particularly for me who is not a great fan of confined spaces. I only wish I'd been able to bring my camera with me as the sight of us wading in the dark, candles in hand, was quite unique. The climax of the excursion was definitely the fast-flowing waterfall at the end. After squeezing through an opening between two large rocks and with the aid of a rope, we tread cautiously through the dark (candle-less this time) under the gushing water and jumped into the pool below. It was definitely an adrenalin pumper.

After about 40 minutes inside the cave we eventually saw the light and were soon back on dry land, which wouldn't be for long. Metres from the cave's entrance was a homemade tree swing, the challenge being to swing out over the water, making sure to let go when the guide instructed (the alternative being to land on the rocks on your way back). I managed to let go slightly too late, flying two metres higher than necessary. The next challenge was to getting to shore without being swept away by the very strong current. Reassuring was that we had a holidaying lifeguard on the tour, always a plus in these situations. With this in mind, the activity that followed - 'tubing' down the river in an inflated tyre - was much more enjoyable than expected.

And then there was the big finale, Semuc Champey's main attraction: its natural pools. The bonus? A 25 minute steep uphill hike to a viewpoint, the 'Mirador'. Surprisingly undeterred by our last hiking expedition up the Santa Maria volcano in Xela (probably because this one had a time limit), we sweated our way up, sidestepping moss covered rocks and clambering up vertical stairs. And I wasn't being sarcastic when I said this was a bonus. While I enjoyed cooling off in the fresh water pools afterward, it really was something to get a bird's eye view of the pools' pyramid-like form, the turquoise spilling over in the midst of a lush blanket of jungle which was filled with noisy howler monkeys. Apparently, however, the pools aren't always this way. According to our guide, being the rainy season a down pour not weeks before had turned the dazzling turquoise to a murky brown. We were lucky.

 The view from the Mirador

So Lanquin and Semuc Champey had come back with the goods, Lanquin softening a once cold spot I had towards bats, Semuc Champey living up to its beautiful reputation. On top of that, we'd supported local business by arranging all our tours through 'El Retiro', whose employees span over 20 local families, all of whom delivered a fantastic and memorable experience. This place was definitely a Guatemalan highlight.

Todos Santos makes you smile

We’re still trying to maintain a tight timeline in order to have any time at all in Europe. With this in mind, the thought of sacrificing a day to jumping between chicken buses all the way to Todos Santos, which is up near the Mexican border, was understandably put in the ‘should we or shouldn’t we?’ category. Funnily enough it was the guide books (that we sometimes give the brush) that won us over. One said Todos Santos was ‘as raw as Guatemalan village life gets’, the other said it was not to be missed. We were sold!

It took almost a full day of chicken bus bliss to get there, mainly because the bus drivers wont drive until their bus is bursting at the seams, but we’re now used to and expectant of stopping and starting every kilometre or so. Luckily for us the road between Huehuetenango and Todos Santos is one of the more beautiful, if unpaved, so the usual delays didn’t matter because we were more than spoiled with the scenery, the bumpy road winding you up through the Cuchumatanes mountains.

T

Climbing the Cuchumatanes mountains

By the time we reached Todos Santos we were in definite need of a smile and, to give some insight into how we were feeling, I’ll step back a few days. Before hitting the road to Todos Santos we’d spent a few days in Quetxaltenango (or Xela as it’s widely referred to in Guatemala – pronounced She-lah). Apart from tasting some of the best Indian food we’ve had since we left home, at a place called ‘El Sabor de la India’, and getting excited about a rather average hamburguesa Australiano at ‘Café Babylon’, this place wasn’t very exciting. Exciting, no. Insane, torturous and grueling, yes! For some absurd reason we agreed to accompany a German girl on a hike up the Santa Maria volcano on Xela’s outskirts. According to this girl, who was staying in the same hostel as us and wanted the ‘group’ discount, Santa Maria was the reason people come to Xela. Later we would read that ‘the reason’ is actually a rather difficult hike, to put it lightly, and ‘rough and ruggered’ according to one guide book. A couple of people we spoke to after the event - cause that's what it was - were quite surprised that we’d attempted it in the first place. Well we did, and it was certainly a once in a lifetime experience because I’m sure as hell not doing it again! 4am wakeup, 15 kilometres and six hours of hiking up and down what, at times, seemed like a vertical path. The best part? We made it to the top half an hour after the clouds had covered the volcano’s summit for the day, so instead of viewing for miles the spectacular sight of Guatemala’s volcano range, all we saw was a blanket of white. I hope I’ve successfully conveyed the sarcasm in that ‘best part’ comment because, as we sat in the freezing cold at the top, it became one of those ‘why on earth did I put myself through that’ moments. For us it was six hours of serious leg pain and gasping for gradually disappearing oxygen and, having rushed to get to the top only to miss the whole point of the trek, it certainly wasn’t one our greatest achievements. It will nonetheless be forever memorable for the physical pain factor, which lasted for nearly a week after.

The clouds that beat us to the top of Santa Maria

So yes, by the time we reached Todos Santos, after a full day of lugging our 30 kilogram lives on our very sore legs, we weren’t in the best of moods. The first item on our agenda was definitely finding a place to stay for the night. We’d read about the ‘Hotal Familiar’ and, being less than 100 metres from the bus stop, we decided this would be a good option. And it was until we were told it would cost 200 Quetzals (about AU$30) for the night, quite expensive for our usual standards. Our backpacking instinct told us we should seek out a plan B and, when the owner saw the look on our faces, she gave us the choice of staying in a ‘house’ a ‘ten minute walk’ away for 90 Quetzals. This was definitely more up our alley.

As it would turn out, the ‘house’ turned out to be the family home, inhabited for the most part by Swiss-German Roman, whose Mayan wife and kids prefer to stay in the hotel with its flat screen TV. The ‘ten minute’ walk was also a bit of a misconception for our decrepit conditions, as it turned out to be almost completely uphill, steep uphill. So, with our 30kg and legs burning with Santa Maria fuelled lactic acid, it took us about 25 minutes to reach the family home, all the while trying to conceal our pain to conduct polite conversation with the very friendly Roman. And we were more than relieved to reach our final destination and collapse on our beds and, after catching our breaths, it wasn’t long before we saw that the hike to our accommodation was totally worth it. Not only were we staying in a gorgeous little Swiss influenced cottage with a beautifully blooming garden, but each night we had the company of Roman who has lived in the village for 15 years and who had many an interesting story to tell about Guatemalan living. Roman’s generosity didn’t end at opening his home to us. On our first night when our plans of pumpkin soup fell through at the hands of a rotten pumpkin, Roman saved the evening by inviting us to share a fresh vegetable stirfry which he made with homegrown veggies. Happily we were able to repay his kindness with a pumkinless curry the following evening. It was nice to receive some good old country hospitality.

 Roman's cottage, well worth the hike

We soon found that Todos Santos doesn’t have a whole lot of activities to offer outside hiking around its beautiful surrounds. For us, almost immediately it was the people that caught our attention, particularly the men of the village who wear identical traditional dress. Roman even wore parts of the ensemble, I guess after 15 years having scored a gold card in terms of village acceptance. Prominent red and white striped pants teamed with a blue, purple and white striped dress shirt with intricately wool woven collar and cuffs. Most top the outfit off with a straw-like hat, again sporting the stripe theme with a leather studded band intertwined with a cobalt blue material. Although most of the women also dress traditionally, it’s the men who are the most striking, commonly depicted on national postcards. What also struck us were the number of dressmakers in the village who stock only these few materials, and it’s these people who clearly get a lot of business from the adolescent population of Todos Santos. The male teens obviously get their pants specially tailored to mimic the latest international street trends. The look at the moment? Seems to be low rise and very baggy pants with obligatory un-tucked striped shirt hanging loosely over a modern t-shirt, baseball cap occasionally in tow. It would appear that teen rebellion lives, even in this remote place!

The men of Todos Santos

Todos Santos is said to offer a taste of the real Guatemala, and it really does make you smile. The people are so friendly and always wanting to chat, the children happy and healthy with rarely any seen to be begging or working. And this is not to mention the village surrounds. Todos Santos sits untouched in a deep green valley surrounded by the Cuchumatanes mountain range, some of which we explored on a morning walk high around the village outskirts. It may not be luring of the action hungry backpacker but it certainly lives up to its ‘true taste’ name, and the day we spent there was certainly well the gauntlet of chicken buses we endured to get there.

Recharging on the restaurant circuit

Forty-eight hours on the road will do it to you. Well I lie. There was a window of six hours in a cheap hotel in San Salvador, but the other 42 were spent on the bus, five tedious border crossings to keep us occupied. This is the cheapest way you'll get from Panama to Guatemala and, as seasoned bus travellers now, we thought we'd brave it. But after a two-day supply of Burger King, fried chicken and little sleep, we needed food, we needed rest, and we needed them pronto! And I must say we certainly went out of our way to address these needs and amply did so, this post almost entirely dedicated to our week of culinary outings in Antigua and Lake Atitlan. As I maintain, sometimes you need a little splurge, a holiday from the holiday.

Once in Guatemala City we immediately sought out one of the infamous 'chicken buses' in order to get to the once capital, Antigua, another colonial city. These things are absolutely priceless, enough to earn themselves their own post (in progress). After a good hour of stopping and starting, in between some major seat clinging, we reached what at the time was heaven on earth for a worn out traveller. It came to us in the form of the 'Casa Amarilla', a hostel complete with private room, cable TV, wifi and, best of all, a daily breakfast spread of eggs, porridge, pancakes, fruit, beans, potatoes and bread. In the hostel world, anything more than bread and jam is unprecedented so this we welcomed with open arms. And thus begun our week of recharge and restaurants. In between indulging in some telemovies (something we rarely do), we examined the guidebook and planned our time around the local eateries.

Antigua

First up was the 'Rainbow Cafe'. My review? Well the chicken fajitas and the Israeli falafel out did the adjoining bookshop where, among the ancient book collection we surprisingly managed to find a handy and very comprehensive Spanish verb book. It was nice to eat some hummus that sort of resembled the real thing and we ended up going for a second time that night, I having been lured by the Greek chicken fillet. The stuffing was good - bacon, raisons, spinach and feta cheese - but the chicken was dry and its breaded exterior extra soggy, presumably because it was covered in the rich cream sauce I'd asked to have on the side. Guess they didn't hear me. Further to our disappointment was at about 10:35pm when our sweet toothes kicked in and we asked the waitress if we could have the signature Banoffee pie to go. Apparently this was completely out of the question as the kitchen had closed...five minutes before. Talk about flexibility!

We soon discovered Rainbow has some stiff competition on the cafe circuit. There's 'Cafe 2000', which was the unfortunate location where we bore witness to Australia being slaughtered 4-0 by Germany in the World Cup. We didn't let this impact on our lunch orders however, my simple Greek salad and Bec's tastey hamburger, but at goal number four we did sneak out anonymously. 'Cafe Sky' was next on our list, its main draw card being proximity to and view of one of Antigua's surrounding volcanoes. We enjoyed our hearty vegetable soup and garlic bread much more than the volcano itself, which was for the most part completely covered by clouds. Next stop was 'Cafe Rocio', our tastebuds were craving something oriental and one guide book had described this place as 'a palace of Asian food delight' - honestly, I sometimes wonder who writes these things. This cafe is more a humble family kitchen than an Asian palace, but the meals were healthy and hearty and although the tandoori chicken was instead cooked in sweet chilli sauce (?), the rice paper spring rolls were so big and scrumptious that we had no room for the famed 'mora crisp' (hot blackberry sauce sandwiched in vanilla icecream). Now there's an excuse to return to Antigua.

The view from Cafe Sky got a little better as we left

Although our Antigua days were relatively lazy and really did centre around what our next meal would be, we did a fair bit of wandering and enjoyed our colonial surrounds. We wandered around and took in the many ruin sites that line the streets. We looked at the main plaza and stumbled across a communal outdoor laundry. We had two Canadian guys ask us to star in their travel video, where one dressed up as a heckling Guatemalan in a horse and cart while the other filmed. Later they paid to race two chicken buses with one of them behind the wheel - just shows you can do almost anything in this country. One big but unavoidable disappointment was that we couldn't climb the Pacaya volcano, which erupted, killing people a couple of weeks before we arrived. In safer times tourists are able to hike up and wander amongst the flowing lava, toasting marshmallows over the heat. Understandably, it's one of the most popular tourist attractions in Guatemala and I'm sure the tourist industry is feeling the loss. While a few tourist agencies were offering trips to surrounding farmlands that had been destroyed by the still present lava, most weren't offering tours at all and when we heard that the government had issued it a no-go-zone, it was sadly scraped from our itinerary.

 Communal washing in the Plaza and Old Church ruins in the middle of town

While our four days of rejuvenation were wonderful, our time was limited and we had to keep moving. So after three chicken bus changeovers in three hours, we reached Lake Atitlan where our activity levels rose somewhat, along with our frequenting of restaurants. Perhaps it was beginner frustration at chicken bus travel, or maybe we were just plain tired, but once in Panajachel, a 'gringo magnet' and also the central point for transport to the lake's villages, we decided to make it our base for a few days. In that time, we successfully exhausted the town's popular restaurants and cafes: the 'Deli Ilama', simple but with good food; 'El Patio', flavoursome steaks and complimentary bread which we saved for the stray dog population linging the streets outside; and ‘Bombay Café’, which served up some great Asian cuisine but where we were cornered by an American woman on an ‘I hate Mexico’ rant (our next destination). We were eventually set free when the proprietor told her that she was the worst customer he’d ever had, at which she stormed out and we were finally able to stroll the 100 metres back to our hostel which we’d been longing to stroll for the past hour.

At this stage, it was time to take our exploring beyond the shores of Panajachel. Our first outing, a trip to the large Thursday markets at Chichicastenango (known to all as ChiChi) which, to be honest, we were a little under whelmed by. For starters, I think we’re a little marketed out after six months in South America and, secondly, all the products were the same! Bags, scarves, t-shirts, muumuus – same stuff, different place. But if you’re one for pure people watching, this is a good place to do it. We enjoyed a spot of it while lunching on the balcony of a café, overlooking the plaza before heading back to Panajachel and bringing the chicken bus changeover tally to six that day.

The usual, at ChiChi markets

The following day would see our next expedition, exploring the Lake district. Over the next few days we’d also get more of an insight into how badly Lake Atitlan was affected by Tropical Storm Agatha a few weeks before. On a couple of morning runs we’d seen the path of destruction Agatha left in Panajachel - collapsed bridges, landslides, sunken buildings. This time, we saw what it’d done to the actual lake, as our shuttle boat weaved in and out of floating debris to get to the village of San Pedro where we stayed the night.

 Agatha's path

And we couldn’t help ourselves in San Pedro, the temptation was too great: two more fabulous eateries, both recommended by a fellow traveller. The first was ‘Café Puerta’, hidden away down by a peaceful lakeside inlet, framed by multicoloured curtains, the garden sporting funky teacup sculptures and mosaics which we later discovered were a creation of the café’s ex-pat owner/talented artist, Blake. Sometimes when Bec and I come across a really good restaurant we opt to share our food so that neither of us misses out on a good dish. This was one of those places. Here we shared a juicy spice-filled hamburger with all the timings, perfected by the café’s homemade seeded bread. Our other dish was an amazing Greek salad whose fresh farmers cheese teamed the taste of feta with a goat’s cheese consistency. It was to die for! After being in South America, I’ve come to seriously appreciate good cheese.

Enjoying the fruits of 'Cafe Puerta'

After an Italian cappuccino at ‘Fata Morgana’ – yet another coup in the middle of Guatemala - dinnertime was upon us so we negotiated the maze of San Pedro's cobblestone lane ways to arrive at ‘Ventana Azul’, the nighttime venture of Café Puerta’s Blake and his partner, Santos. And let me say, they’ve really hit the spot with this cosy little place which was full when we arrived. Its vibrant red exterior couples nicely with an electric blue interior and is only made more romantic with candle light and also that coming from Blake’s trendy Guatemalan themed mosaic lamps, one of which Bec bought at the end of the night. The food? Well we had a big choice ahead of us, with plenty of Latin/Asian themed dishes on the menu. In the end I opted for the Pad Thai and Bec for an Indian curry – both good choices. Team this with a few Caipirinhas and a bottle of white and we were set. Blake even convinced us into ordering the dessert special of the day (it didn’t take much), a piece of chocolate cake topped with fresh cream to bring to an end our week of indulgences. How appropriate!