Guatemala

The land of the shotgun. Yes, we have not seen as many shotguns so far on this trip as we have seen in Guatemala City. Every service station, important shop, bank, pharmacy, hotel, parking lot, just about anywhere, had an armed guard standing somewhere with a pump action shotgun. Some on street corners or standing under trees on roundabouts. Even the little B&B we stayed in near the airport was in a gated suburb with only one way in and one other way out and you guessed it, armed guards on every one, recording car numbers, passengers names and destination etc. They even had chaps on bicycles cruising the streets all armed to the teeth. All houses are surrounded by high walls, gated, and topped off with razor wire. It seems that as the economy is going down, the number of armed robberies is on the rise, hence the security, and these gunners don’t ask questions first.

Guatemala City has the same rule as Colombia, in that if you ride a motorcycle you have to have the plate number of the bike on the back of your helmet and vest. They try this system as a counter to the drive-by shootings, robberies and purse snatchings. Only for locals though and not biking tourists.

Scott soon arrived and then crashed from exhaustion after his marathon ride down from Reno so it was good he had a couple of days to rest up before Joanne flew in.

With the couple of days up our sleeve I managed to do an oil change on the bike and get a few other odd jobs done. We had a lovely little hostel to stay in and from the balcony you could see in the distance the volcanos which surround the city. Some of which are still active and smoke continually. We were lucky enough to see in the far off distance one volcano shoot large volumes of ash and smoke high into the sky every now and then. It feels like these countries are sitting on an active time bomb.

Once Joanne arrived we hit the road and headed to Antigua for a morning then headed for Tikal.

Antigua was a lovely old historic city sitting under the shadow of a nearby volcano. You couldn’t miss it, as it dominated the skyline. Sunday was market day and everyone was out and about selling all manner of stuff.

Soon it was onto Tikal, the Mayan ruins in the heart of the jungle. An absolute magical place. A large area of jungle with these amazing structures standing the test of time. To sit on the top of the temples and watch the sun rise over the jungle and hear the howler monkeys calling was a truly special moment.

The ruins are spaced out under a jungle canopy with birds and monkeys doing their thing, then all of a sudden you walk into a clearing with this amazing stone structure rearing out of the ground. It took our breath away. As we stayed in the park we managed to return later in the evening and watch the sun go down and experience the shadow effects on the temples of the Grand Plaza. This whole place was somewhere you could sit quietly in the shadows of the jungle and contemplate what it would have been like to live here and how these many Mayan communities that are spread throughout here and Mexico existed. The years that it took to build these structures was mind boggling.

We moseyed around the area for a couple of days then made our way to the Belize border for a quick crossing.

It seemed Guatemala was not ready for us to leave just yet. Arriving at a bridge on the border at midday we were met with a queue of traffic. The teachers of Guatemala were having a nationwide strike for more money and better conditions so were blocking the borders, major cities and airports to anyone coming into or leaving the country. They would let foot traffic pass for five minutes every hour, but only locals. Tempers started to rise and as we had ridden to the front of the queue it became apparent that we were in the wrong place if things got ugly. Soon Mr Policeman arrived, complete with armed escort and after a quiet talk and a hand shake with protest organisers it was agreed that things would move at 6pm. This happened at 3pm. Hell, that would mean we would miss getting insurance on the Belize border as the office there closed at 6pm.

We tried some tall stories of how we had family arriving in Belize at the airport and we had to be there to meet them but that proved a no go. They refused everyone. Tour buses and all. Only an ambulance was allowed through. The girls tried to walk through with the locals but were turned back, no gringos allowed. What part had we to do with this bloody strike anyway? So the music played on. The venders sold their ice creams and fruit and everyone waited, then waited some more. The non-protesting locals could sympathise with everyone’s plight so struck up conversation and made light of the situation with us.

A few gringos crossed the river on foot from one side to the other and were met with stones and fruit for their efforts, but they got through to the applause of the waiting crowds. One guy tried to take his 4x4 through but drowned it in the middle of the river to the applause of the protesters. No help was given till the end of the protest. Then an enterprising local took down his inflatable and began charging an outrageous price to row people across. Not many takers on that one.

5pm arrived and so did the armed military with the tools of the trade, to the cheers of the waiting crowd and the boos of the protesters. Enough was enough. Then magically the gates were open and it became a mad race to get to the other side and begin the paperwork before the insurance office closed.

So what was going to be a short, easy day turned into a long and entertaining one. Central America, you have to love it.