Leaving The Ruins; Ruined

Another day, another destination, the long and sometimes exhausting travelling had been just that. Emily and I both felt frayed from a relentless stomp through Central America which had left us in the wake of many miles, many disappointments and, in all honesty, a great impression of the new environment that we had entered. South America had been long and hard, but with many treasures along the way (including the one that I had picked up and taken along with me), which had mad every mile worth the effort. I know that this is something that I have touched upon before but real travelling isn't as relaxing and care free as two weeks on a beach, and as time goes by it gradually wears you down. What Emily and I needed was a proverbial rabbit out of the hat in the form of something to lift our spirits, and we were not to be disappointed: in multiple senses of the word spirits were well and truly lifted.

After another day the destination in question was the Copan Ruinas, or using my impressive Spanish to kindly translate: the Copan Ruins. This was the first significant destination in what was once the territory of the vast Mayan Empire, a civilisation stretching from present day Honduras far into northern Mexico, which is pretty significant without access to Facebook! It comes as little surprise that we arrived after dark following a 7 hour journey that easily doubled our guidebook's flimsy estimation of 3 hours. After being dumped in the back of an overcrowded pick-up like a sack of potatoes, we arrived at our reasonably priced hotel before promptly leaving to satisfy our insatiable hunger. I threw down a mixed kebab the size of a hobbit, while Emily threw down the best part of a bottle of vino tinto (red wine). Each in our own way were both satisfied and looking forward to a day wondering aimlessly around the ruins, which we knew little about.

Morning came and after a nice big dose of caffeine and a bowl of granola we were feeling suitably intrepid. We clad ourselves with ample camera gear and set off, like the zealous conquistadors many years before, for a day of charging around the ruins shooting at will (please be assured that no indigenous people were harmed in the making of this blog). The weather was yet again overcast, but holding back from chucking down on us, and quite unlike the conquistadors of yonder year ambled down the quaintly bricked footpath to the well signposted archaeological site. However, upon entering the relatively unpopulated entrance, a war cry came as if from nowhere, the locals had spotted two Gringos heading towards them. Within moments it was like a scene from Zulu as we were outnumbered by prospective tour guides closing in from angles. In spite of the fact that in contrast to Zulu our superior technology was of little use, we fought valiantly for some peace and quiet, and eventually vanquished the tourist hungry guides. We were through the gates and home free. The site itself was remarkably quiet, and after kitting up we shot a few parrots sat on a fence before moving into the main area. What we came upon was simply stunning, no puns and clever linguistics required. The rather dense forest that encompassed the area had crept up and strangled the impressive old ruins, with roots busting from within the stone buildings and vines hanging down from the dark green ceiling which stood imperiously at the edge of each clearing. Furthermore, although there was a trickle of tourists on the grounds, the site was relatively quiet and on occasion found ourselves sitting upon a great stone pyramid, looking down upon the crumbling relics of a once glorious empire.

There are times, and have been times on this trip, when you find yourself being impressed upon by something bigger than yourself, and although I can only speak for myself in this respect it felt like at a time I really required it, I was granted with enough of a dose of perspective to wipe the slate clean. That is one of the great things that I have experienced when travelling. There have been points upon this journey when overwhelmed with the toils of a testing portion of my trip, which this section had very much been, when you are put in a position of being able to see the woods for the trees (a perfect time for a forest themed pun I'd say), and all the trivialities of the present become just that. I am aware that this echoes thoughts that I have rattled upon in the past, but the moments that I will look back upon with the most affection are not the 5 million visitors a year world heritage sites (which as it ironically happens I would imagine that this was), but the moments when you feel ground down by loneliness, fatigue or discomfort and something gives you a large dose of perspective. Because these, for me, are the moments that change me; when you are presented with the fact that the world will keep on spinning today's hindrances into tomorrow's history, and that it will continue on long after you do. Nothing like a good humbling to charge the batteries.

After a fair few hours of tramping around the grounds Emily and I strolled back to town for a spot of lunch and a perusal around the artisan shops before returning to an untimely power cut. As it happened just as we were forced out of our pitch black room just in time to bump into another couple checking into theirs. Keen for some people to drag out on the piss Emily and I pounced upon in a way that can be only described as predatory offering to take them out for a bite to eat. Alex and Stina (I think the spelling is correct) obliged and after going out for a rather banterous yet unspectacular culinary experience, decided to sneak in for a cheeky happy hour beverage at the local watering hole. As can be expected this one drink became 5 shots of a rather potent spirit called 'The Uterus', an obligatory 7 or so rounds of beer pong and a shed load of beers. Drunk is not the word to describe our state and for once Emily ended up much less pissed than me, which was evident in the fact that she still had the ability to walk. That particular talent was not exactly one that I possessed at that time and after eventually staggering back to the room all that was left was to conduct a large shouting match with the inside of the toilet bowl.

The next day we were leaving early on a shuttle bus to Antigua, and in our heavily inebriated state lacked the ability to see how much of a world of pain would come with our awakening. After being reinvigorated, and then subsequently deinvigorated (not a word but I don't care), both challenges and new adventures would face us as we said goodbye to Honduras and hello to Guatemala.