It was still daylight when, in the silence of the streets cold and dark, I went from San Cristobal. Because of the strong live music coming from 'the other side of the wall of my dorm where Charlie, the owner of both local hires rock bands three nights a week, I had hardly slept a wink. The doors of the pub
Charly were closed, but inside, it was a private party in full swing.
arrived in Palenque in the late morning and spent the whole afternoon to go up and down the stairs of the pyramids in the Mayan archaeological site, located a few miles of the city. The main street of the town is in the process of restoration.
Every house, hotel, shop, on both sides of the road are being demolished. As I had anticipated, not Palenque has nothing as fascinating as the city center and the nightlife is almost non-existent. On direct bus to the ruins, after lunch with the best tacos on the street bought so far, I met Arthur, a boy of 12 years that he offered to be my guide 'to the site for a bargain price. Accompanied by his brother of 10, I had to walk around the jungle giving me detailed explanations about the name on the vegetation and some scholars, discoverers dellla ruins. I could, then get some more information on the pyramids from my guide and seeing a documentary in the archaeological museum.
Arturo and her brother were a good company and took advantage of their presence to make me take some pictures at the top of large stone buildings.
The next day I went to the waterfalls of Agua Azul, a little more than 60 km along the main road back to San Cristobal. I arrived early and was able, So, enjoy the wonder almost completely alone. I breakfasted with a "cocktail" of fruit: pineapple, papaya, watermelon, melon and mango stuffed in a plastic cup, sitting on the ground with their feet dangling from a wooden fence and under me ... A majestic waterfall of crystal clear water that turned into many pools. I left when the first came pullmanns of tourists to turn off the spell and to cover, with their shouting, the symphony in which nature had enveloped me. I went, So, to the waterfalls of Misol He , On the way back to Palenque. The major types are completely different, but equally fascinating ': A journey through the wet rocks can go behind the waterfall that plunges 40 meters into a small lake. I knew that water was cold and I saw only two boys enter. I tried to resist, but when the sun of the afternoon it began to beat more strongly, I could not restrain myself and had a swim. I returned to Palenque very tired and I had dinner with a vegetable soup, drinking hot tea with lemon. They were a bit of day I felt a pain in the stomach, perhaps the last time I was put to the test, eating any food, even if unknown to me. When I returned to the room at about 21:00, something happened to me strange: I felt a great desire to vomit and I had to restrain myself from not doing so. Severe nausea was added to a sudden rise in body temperature and began to tremble from the cold, although there are 30 degrees in the room. I was awake at 5:15 to catch the 6:00 of the minibus to the border with Guatemala. At 4:25, after more than 3 hours of light sleep, I woke up. `So I hurried the preparations to take the 5:00 bus. Three hours later I was Corazol border, from where the single-engine boats directly to the ruins of Yaxchilan and those directed to small and remote city of Bethel, where there is `the customs office to enter Guatemala. To mark the boundary between the two countries is the river and there are different options to cross it. I gave up the trip to the ruins because of the enormous price that I asked the information desk: 700 pesos to be paid only by being the only participant to add up to another 400 to get to Bethel and cross the border.
The tour price of close to that of the 2-day tour offered by the agencies in San Cristobal and deemed it absolutely illogical. I said that I would have to wait for other people to split the fare and sat on a bench. The responses of the people who requested information were left very vague and easily transpire that there was a scam.
Thus I made my way alone to the boats moored to the riverbank.
I thought, "You can not that a Mexican who wants to cross the border must bear the expense. "I did not have time to get to the bottom of the stone staircase, when a guy stopped me and asked 'where I was heading.
For 50 pesos I crossed the river in about 2 minutes with the same man who had asked the 400 appears as a single option. I changed my 500 pesos on the other side, in Guatemalan soil, discussed on the discussion, but certainly was not very favorable for me.
At 9:00 I went on the old and dusty bus that `shares only after half an hour when the driver and his helper ended up making breakfast of fried chicken and fries in a kiosk in front of you.
the country, very poor, it is composed of, at most, 20 houses surrounded by greenery.
The same man who had changed the money you `facing the door of the bus I was the only passenger, and took 50 quetzal for an imaginary business. Paid him, and I saw him reach the two sat down to eat.
gave money to the guy who takes care of payments, with the other hand, gave him the rest: he had got his commission and the little that I managed to give me more in return. I had been ripped off 3 times within an hour.
I've tried to make `this does not happen and I had paid small sums of money greater than the real ones, but the thought of being treated differently by the locals made me nervous. You may consider, according me, a form of racism, where the rights of a person to change depending on your country of origin. This happens in all countries of Central America.
We started walking, moderate-speed ', the dirt road, dusty in the midst of endless prairies of plantations of bananas, mangoes and other tropical fruits. After more than an hour, we came to Bethel, we stopped to wait for half an hour something that never arrive '. Time passed slowly, as the mileage.
In the din of the rickety bus, the temperature increased steadily. Could not open the windows to avoid being invaded by a cloud of white dust raised by the other vehicles coming in the opposite direction.
I thought, "Of course a hole rubber in that place must be a really good breaking balls. "` I do not spend half an hour that a tremendous blast that made me think of me I was right "gufata" alone. Bucammo the right rear and lost another 40 minutes to change . Along the way, arid and endless rose more and more people, but no one fell! I was trying to stay awake and fight fatigue. They told me that I arrived in Flores in 3 hours.
Instead: 4 were of gravel road and an asphalt to Santa Elena. It was an exhausting journey, we made stops at least 100, bucammo a tire, crossed herds of cows that walked free on the street and the most fun thing was that in Flores, I even brought us.
I got exhausted from the bus, sweaty, dirty, with a layer of dust visible to the naked eye deposited on the skin. Total: 10 hours travel nightmare, with hardly slept, ate, drank or going to the bathroom.
the bus station, took a tuc-tuc, and I did bring up to where buses depart for Belize.
I took a room near the bustling market. I went out to dinner quickly and now I try to rest. Tomorrow I get to Belize City. Another state, another culture, another language, other food, other people .... another adventure!
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