Hey there,
How was work this week? I really wish I could have been there. Nothing screams fun like stacks of quotations, monotonous paperwork, and database upkeep. What was I thinking when I planned a trip to a tropical paradise? Stupid, so stupid…
Although [our company] is clearly the place to be, I suppose Guatemala and Belize haven’t been too bad. Nadya and I have spent an inordinate amount of time banging our heads on rattling windows as we try to sleep on minibuses, but that’s the only complaint so far. Oh, well, that and the torrential downpours in Guatemala. It did nothing but rain in Antigua the first night. We avoided saturation by getting hour-long deep tissue massages and perusing various boutiques. We stayed at La Posada de Don Rodrigo, the one with the beautiful courtyard and gardens, and enjoyed a positively delectable dinner there.
On Sunday we made our way to Semuc Champey. We got there late in the evening and it had been raining heavily, so we retired pretty early. The next morning we started the hike to the pools. When we got inside the park, Nadya asked what “pozas” meant. I said I didn’t know and asked where she had seen it. She said it was on a sign pointing the direction we were headed. Just as I was suggesting a translation of “Probably ‘sudden death,'” Nadya slid on a wet board, falling squarely on her back.
When we got to the pools, we were extremely disappointed to see that the rain had thoroughly clouded the water. I remembered the submerged rocks being quite slippery and since the water was also moving very quickly, we decided not to risk swimming. We returned to the B&B; and signed up for the cave tour that afternoon.
The caving was incredible. The entrance was completely flooded and had a powerful waterfall bursting out of it. We lit our candles, clutched some rocks, and waded in. Only fifteen feet inside we became unable to reach the bottom and had to swim with one arm while holding the candles in the other. (Being four feet tall, our Guatemalan guide could reach the bottom only three feet into the cave.) We swam for a good distance, agitated several resting bats who then made it a point to swarm uncomfortably close to our exposed arms, and finally reached a shallow area. We climbed jagged rocks, crawled through narrow crevices, and dodged stalactites.
The farther we went, the more deafening became the thundering sound of an internal waterfall. The current began to pick up substantially, and I suspected we’d turn around soon. Did we do so? Of course not. Our guide led us precariously around various rock formations and right up to the side of the waterfall. He then proceeded to nonchalantly slip behind the pounding wall of water. A hand emerged shortly and grabbed mine. I slid in and then distinctly remember hearing someone yelling “Cabeza! Cabeza!” So after I slammed the top of my head on a rock, I looked out to see the back of the waterfall. Nadya and a few other people joined me momentarily. It was absolutely extraordinary.
We climbed out the other side of the fall, and our guide jumped into the swift-moving current. He grabbed a rock and beckoned for us to follow him one at a time. I hopped in and very nearly missed his outstretched hand but caught it just before I was carried the other direction. We explored a little longer, jumped off of ledges into deep pools, and then emerged completely exhilarated.
It had begun to rain while we were inside, so we got to tube down the river back to our B&B; while it poured. When we got there we stacked the tubes and took turns swinging into the river on an old rope. We were exhausted when we went to bed that night, but a pesky cockroach (as opposed to the other kind of cockroaches) managed to keep us awake for hours. I used a flip flop to smash it, but thoughts of it haunted us. We started chatting about the experiences we’d had over the past couple of days, and Nadya piped up with, “Hey! I finally figured out what ‘caballeros’ means!” I responded, “Yeah, ‘men’ or literally ‘horseback riders.'” She angrily retorted, “You could have told me that yesterday before I used the men’s bathroom.”
We headed for Flores the next day. Most of the city looks the same, but Los Amigos has expanded dramatically. Jeronimo was there of course. We talked well into the night while Nadya chatted up three attractive French guys. I used my French to translate periodically and felt delightfully badass.
After a very late night, we miraculously awakened just in time to catch our 5:00 bus to Belize. The trip was long and bumpy, and I desperately had to pee for much of it, but our overwhelming fatigue made it a little easier to sleep through the constant jostling. We made it out to the island in the early afternoon and, after finding a quaint cabana to stay in, immediately signed up for diving lessons. After two dives tomorrow, Nadya and I will be certified adventure divers. On Sunday we’re going to try to find someone to take us to dive the Blue Hole, a collapsed cave that appears as a royal blue circle on aerial maps.
We inadvertently picked a perfect weekend to be here as the weather has been consistently delightful, and tonight is the first night of Lobster Fest. A couple of golf carts passed us yesterday carrying several beauty contestants, and I snidely joked, “I bet they’re competing for the enviable title of ‘Miss Lobster Fest’.” They passed again a little later, and I saw one of the girls’ sashes: “Miss Lobster Fest 2006.”
Ok. I’m going to owe $2 million for this internet session, and I’m so hungry you can probably hear my stomach rumbling at your apartment. I love you and miss you!