The Big Hole and the Big Jump

The chilling out continues as we slip into the show San Pedro rhythm. One of my favourite things is the warm banana loaf which found us for breakfast nestled in a basket on top of beautifully dressed Mayan women´s heads. They wear long, thick, woven skirts fixed tightly above the waist with beaded belts depicting tropical birds or flowers.
Our week is broken up by boat trips across Lake Atitlan to Panajchel where Bil and I´s study appointments are. We buzz past the sharp ridged volcanic hills which slip under the teal blue waters which are bobbled with corn plants on almost vertical plots. Tiny villages perch amongst the green, glowing with halos of pollution.
My day seven doctor´s appointment is a strange affair. I squeeze past a family of thirty in the foyer who have been waiting around for a week showing support for a relative undergoing a hysterectomy. Waiting in a plastic garden chair, two large Guatemalan men in jeans walk in and seat themselves opposite me. No introduction but a flash of a gold toothed smiled and the interruption of an Avril Lavigne ringtone as they flick through my medical notes and ask a few simple questions - ´No diarrhea´ (None, I´m surprised to report).Before we shuttle it back to Antigua we fit in some sweaty kayaking, a football game with some cunning kids (who tried to introduce a monetary reward for goal scoring) and a free salsa lesson.
We meet some funny Guatemalan guys – a couple of business men, a lawyer, a chef and a dentistry student. They are keen to show off their country so in the comfort and safety of a blacked out, air conditioned pick up truck we get a unique tour of Guatemala city (during which we did not see a single other white person). They take us go karting and back to Gabriel´s mansion (behind an armed guard and automated gate) for the best, juiciest steak we have ever tasted. Just a street away buildings plastered in painted advertisements pile on top of each other like cereal box models tangled in scribbles of black wires.
The highlight of the day was glimpsing the sinkhole, measuring about 20m across and as deep as the Statue of Liberty. It yawned wide in the middle of one of the most dangerous zones. It seemed ironic that a hole attracted the greatest police presence we had seen all day in a city where 40 people are murdered every week.
We had booked to go to the coast but our plans changed after listening to other travelers. And we are so pleased they did. Semuc Champey was to provide one of the best days of our entire lives. I´m even getting nervous with the pressure of doing this place justice in writing. The day long journey was one of those where you get your camera out and you just keep snapping because the scene got more breathtaking with every gear-clunking bend. We could see out across what looked like hundreds of green molehills or moguls which were cut off by a distant fuzzy tent of thick cloud. Our final destination was reached by a lurching, scratching tuk tuk ride up a rubbled and rubbished track. That night we slept under a roof of dried palm leaves in a shack without electricity along with a baby scorpion hiding in the shadows.
We began with a slippery flip flopped climb up steps, roots and rocks in the jungle. The scene is set for a Jurassic Park experience as we bump along in the back of a truck and a Jesus Lizard sprints across the road ahead, simultaneously black bird of prey (condor maybe?) swoops low above our heads and a butterfly as big as my hand weaves between the grasses whipping at our arms. At the viewpoint we´re faced with the best view I have ever seen. A plunging valley with steps of turquoise pools far far below.
Next, we´re in the sparkling blue pools sliding down waterfalls, diving off rocky shelves. There is a point where white water rapids crash underground and a story about how it took 45 days for the dismembered body parts of a snap happy priest to emerge from the other side. Other than that thought, it´s paradise. Dragonflies and all.
We tube in a long chain down an urging, swirling river to our lunch spot. Then comes the crazy part, the ´did that really happen?´ part. With no warning of what´s to come we´re lead into a cave with only candles to light our way. It feels like some weird ritual, especially as our group breaks into echoey song. There are points where we have to doggy paddle because the water is so deep. The flames are spluttering and we re spluttering but it´s all good. We clamber up metal ladders and hammering waterfalls where all you can see of the other side is an outreaching hand. In one part, the guide indicates a spot in a murky pool with his headtorch (the only one about) where we have to leap down a few feet. Wow adrenaline. After an hour or so we emerge into daylight, clutching a couple of inches of wax in shaking hands. To top off the day we jump (jumping being the ongoing theme) off an 8m high bridge into rapids on the way back.

So quick ending summary – we moved on to Honduras yesterday. And to balance out all this blabbering excitement… here is what we did not appreciate about Guatemala –
Mosquitoes and the smell of old meat at the market (Kate)
Black exhaust fumes and twenty million speed bumps (Cat)
Slippery circular drains (Bil)

Thanks for reading, Muchos Lovos