The 51st State

Emily and I had always planned to go as far as possible before splitting off, so she could spend her final days relaxing before returning to Austin, the party rich Texas hippie town that I have heard much about. I on the other hand had more time left and planned to spend my final weeks in Central America snorkelling and swimming at sporadic coastal spots in Belize. As far as we could foresee our trip to Tikal would be our last joint endeavour before splitting off to go our separate ways. Both of us were clearly not looking forward to facing a long absence, or even the possibility of a permanent one, and our long two day journey to Flores, via Coban, was marred by the prospect of moving on independently. But first we would have to brave a taste of the so called real world as we entered the conveniently plush world of U.S. tourist destinations.

After leaving Antigua, passing through Guatemala City briefly to change some left over Honduran money, we braved another long bus journey north. From now on it was all North on both of the final legs of our trip. We arrived late, treated ourselves to another rather pricey evening meal before settling in for a recuperative sleep before doing it all again the next day. The next morning we flagged a taxi to the chaotic frenzy that was the local bus station. Minivans and buses were crammed in everywhere with people shouting the names of unknown destinations and their respective prices, while taking every opportunity to drolly squabble amongst themselves. Following a lot of cynical conversing and wrestling our bags back from some overzealous minivan operators, we managed to get a decent (ish) price directly to Flores, a rather pretty bridged island on the small but charming Lago de Peten Itza. From here we would relax for a day or two, drag out a few more days together until we had to split off. We booked ourselves into a fairly decent hotel and popped a few doors down for an ambitious but rather poor meal. The cocktails, however, were cheap, served fast and greeted warmly. We returned to a stunted sleep before having to change hotels the next morning.

As if the rather decently priced, yet lovely hotel had not been enough the night before we decided that our last free day would be spent in the most pricey hotel yet (around $50), which had a lovely little swimming pool, massive bed, air con and a big balcony. After grabbing a late breakfast and booking our trip for the next day, we spent the day drinking beer in the pool that only we seemed to want to use. The rest of the day passed quietly in and around the hotel, leaving once or twice for another piss poor meal, and some over-priced tat shopping. The next morning, we changed hotels once again before sitting by the side of the road to be picked up for our trip to Tikal. Or so we thought. We waited, and waited, and nothing came. After checking at the front desk of where we had booked it, we were told we had been forgotten. Another precious day was wasted in a rather lifeless and overpriced tourist spot, however it did mean we had another day together. We moaned relentlessly for a while before rearranging the trip for the next day. The next morning the office actually managed to pick us up and we were finally on our way to Tikal, one of the most famous Mayan ruins in the middle of the jungle, with monkeys jumping from the trees, tarantulas skittering about and dense tree canopies high above us. We were pretty excited to say the least. Great anticipation can, however, result in overwhelming disappointment, and on this occasion that was certainly the case. Within moments of arriving it became clear that we had entered some kind of historical theme park; tour guides roaming the grounds followed by crowds of (mostly) American tourists dressed for safari. This was further worsened by the revelation that the University of Pennsylvania had rebuilt almost all of the ruins to make it more aesthetic. In fact most of the ruins were no longer how they should have been and we left after an hour or so.

We returned to our hotel in Flores aware that there were no more adventures to be had before parting ways the next day. I would go to Belize before heading up to Cuba after a brief stop in Mexico, Emily passing her final days on the coast of Mexico before heading to Austin. The last evening had an air of sadness, and we were both quieter than usual. From here on we were to go in our separate directions in the hope that it wouldn’t stay that way.