Kauai You Gotta Be Like That

I'm dazed.

Could have something to do with the 14+ hours of travel.  Or maybe the 3:30 am wake-up call.  Or the fact that I didn't really sleep the previous evening.  Apparently Clarion Hotel/Park &  Fly is home to a Sunday night coke binge party (dramatic crying in the hallway included!)

At any rate, I'm a little out of it.
The woman driving the taxi tisks, "...they really should have sent someone to pick you up."
I don't understand.
She stops a few kilometres away at our car rental.  The metre shoots up from $8 to $10.  I offer her $12.  "... waited for over two hours and for only twelve dollars!"
The issue becomes clear, but I'm too tired to argue.  I end up giving her $15.  Suddenly, she's all sunshine and rainbows, "Enjoy your trip, thanks so much," she coos.

Following a mountain of paperwork, they bring our car around.  She's a beat-up old Honda, but she'll do.  She makes some worrisome noises, but she's still a steal.  The receptionist asks us where we're camping first.  When I answer Anahola, she says "Ohhh..." her look says it all.
Once pressed, she admits, "There's a large homeless population who live at that beach, but mind your P's and Q's and you should be fine."
A tad worrisome.

Fun fact: Kauai has the world's largest feral chicken population 

We hit up Walmart to grab the essentials (ie: beer and candy) and replace the camping stove that was detained at customs.  The greeter stops me at the door and scolds me for trying to bring my backpack in.  She points me to the electronic locker system.  We're definitely not in Fernie anymore.

We crawl through the evening traffic and make it to Anahola Beach before nightfall.
There are several tents dotted along a grassy bank and a couple more setup a few metres over, in a sparse forest.  At the farthest end of the forest there are structures that look more permanent, so we stay on the side we're at and setup under the trees.

The gusty winds make setting up an ordeal, to the point where when we realize the opening is facing the wrong direction, we can't be bothered adjusting it.

A couple beers later and my eyelids are sandbags.  I call it quits by 8 pm and retire to my tent for another restless night.  Between the paper-thin sleeping mats and the sporadic gusts of tent-rattling winds, I barely sleep.

~~~

I wake up to Mike trying to lure me out of the tent with coffee (the little angel).  It's luke-warm at best, but it's coffee, so I'm happy.  See, we couldn't find a camping stove at Walmart, so we settled for the only other option: a chafing fuel disk stove.*  It's measly stature paired with the gusty winds means it can sort of warm things, but don't count on a rolling boil.

*I urge you to check the link, so you can truly appreciate how pitiful this thing is 

The sky is a muted grey, the wind hasn't let up, so we decide to explore.  We chase waterfalls, munch on roadside grilled chicken and hit up a nearby thrift store (which doesn't hold a candle to the Fernie Sally Ann) before retiring back to our campsite and enjoying some tepid no-name brand ramen.

More and more campers arrive for the second night and a couple approaches us to ask how and where we obtained our permit (answer: through much back and forth with the recs department, snail mail and two cashier cheques later.)  They begin setting up nearby and shortly after the girl approaches us again.
"Someone just told me that a couple nights ago all of the tents pitched under the trees had their cars vandalized and their stuff stolen."
Oh.
"Will you guys move?"
We haven't experienced any issues yet and besides, there are so many people set up around us now, surely there's power in numbers.  We opt to stay put, but it makes for yet another restless sleep.

Morning light fills the tent and I rise and shine before my alarm.  I'm optimistic for sunshine.
I place my little pot of water on the chafing stove in preparation for instant coffee and start to pack.  I'm eager to get to the Hindu Monastery in time for the 9 a.m. tour and apparently I'm not alone.

The place is packed with silver haired tourists, many proudly returning for their 2nd or 3rd times.  We're corralled into a large tent where our old, white tour guide drones on and on.  He asks if anyone has questions and the crowd delivers.  He answers half-heartedly and even admits to making up some answers on the spot.  What he's really passionate about discussing are all the items available for purchase at the gift shop.  Heck, they even have apps available for purchase on iTunes.
At one point, a man in the front row raises his hand; when he's picked he stands up, faces the group and explains that he is a born and raised Hindu from South India and that he respectfully wishes to clarify some things.  He reiterates some previous questions and expands on the explanations given.  When he finishes, everyone bursts into applause.  I wish they would let him take over as our guide.

The worlds largest crystal is cool and all, but LOOK AT THIS SPIDER!

We waltz through the stunning grounds and hear interesting facts.  We're asked to stay together as a group and not to stop for photos until the tour portion is complete, but no one listens.
Slowly, we make our way down to the new temple being constructed.  Five carpenters are hand chiseling all the intricate details into multiple kinds of granite.  Construction began in 1990, but won't be complete until April 2022!

Pretty impressive stuff

We slip away from the never-ending-tour and are beyond gleeful that the sun is finally shining.

We hurry down to the boardwalk to rent a couple bikes and cruise along the oceanside.

A local man is selling big drinking coconuts out of his truck.  Excited, I approach him and ask how much.  He tells me $5 US (special tourist price, I'm sure.)  I almost respond with, 'Muy caro!' and then remember that I'm in the states.  Too ashamed to be branded as a cheapskate, I cough up the $5.

I really need to learn to haggle... At least it was a good coconut...

Guatemala - Semuc Champey to Tikkal

We're off again, this time to the town of Lanquin, Guatemala.  As it's the last leg of our trip and we don't want to waste our few precious days fucking around with public transit, so we pay the extra dinero for the shuttle.  It's glorious: there are only a few of us so we sprawl across the seats and sleep most of the way.
We reach Coban and begin the long slow descent into the incredible valley that holds Lanquin.  It's vibrant, lush, glowing green.  The recent rainfall has the surrounding mountains framed in mist.  I almost feel as if I'm back in Canada.
In town we hop out of the van and, along with two French Canadian girls, are ushered to the Zephyr courtesy shuttle (aka the bed of a big 4x4 truck, with roll bars to hold onto.  We quickly realize why when the truck has to gun it up the steep, muddy roads to get us to our destination.)
We arrive at our hostel and are dumbfounded.  The views are spectacular.  I'd had my reservations since this would be the priciest hostel of our trip, but it's worth every penny.   We settle in, enjoy our complimentary beer, play some pool, and eat some dinner.

In the morning it's raining so we sleep in late and when it lets up we go into town to explore and find some cheaper food.  By the time we return it's beginning to brighten up and by late afternoon it's sunny and hot.  We start drinking beers in the infinity pool and get to chatting with some other Canadians.  Four of them are from Nanaimo and one is best friends with Kerrie, my former co-worker.  She sends Kerrie a picture of me waving and smiling with the caption, 'Fran says hi!' to which Kerrie responds: 'WTF?'  Small world.
Day drinking leads to an early night and althrough we'd originally planned to go tubing another rainy day causes us to re-think it.
We have a nice relaxing day until Mike notices that his ankle is swollen and bruised.  "I must've bonked it last night," he muses, uncertain to how or when said injury took place.  Upon further examination he notices a small, light coloured circle and within it two distinct fang marks.
"Must've been that spider I saw in here this morning.  That asshole!"
Mike's fairly certain the spider he spotted was a wolf spider and he's not exhibiting any of the signs of a black widow or brown recluse bite (fever, chills, pusing wound, etc) so he cleans it well, takes a Bendaryl and puts ice on it.
The next day we are RESOLVED to go to Semuc Champey and arrange to take another 4x4 up into the park.
It's still a bit drizzly but the sun is trying to peak through.  We finally arrive and are starving for lunch - we've been told there's great barbecue at the entrance to the park.  We soon realize there are actually about 6 different little barbecues stands, all are vying for our business.  They all call out at once, trying to usher us in, it's overwhelming and I worry about hurting feelings.
We chow down some food and begin exploring the park.  It's stunning.  Never have I swam in waters of that colour - such a vibrant turquoise.

Finally the day comes for us to settle up our tab and I beg the guy at the front desk NOT to email me my receipt.
Once again, we decide to treat ourselves and pay for a microbus through the hostel, but this time it's absolutely packed and takes us to Flores, a little island on Lake Petén Itzá that will be our gateway to the Tikal ruins.
As we roll into town, a local travel agent guy jumps on the bus and convinces us that he is the only option as far as booking buses to the ruins.  He also insists we must pay now in order to secure our spots and happily ushers us to the bank.  We find out pretty soon after that this is not at all the case.

We check into our hostel, Los Amigos, and although it is really cool with an awesome open concept layout, because we are in a private room we are shunned to another building down the street, away from all the fun.

We opt for the first trip of the morning to avoid the hordes of tourists which unfortunately means a 3:30 am wake-up call.
Once we eventually get in and start off exploring on our own it's worth the early morning, we virtually have the park to ourselves.  We explore for hours and take in all the history before jumping on a returning bus.

We finish the afternoon traversing the little island, taking in the sites.

A Few More Hiccups - Honduras to Guatemala

We wander down the quaint cobbled streets of Copán Ruinas and are pleasantly surprised by the laidback atmosphere of the town.
We check into the lovely La Iguana Azul and seek out some food.

We get lured into a tourist trap of a restaurant, but I'm psyched when I see anafres on the menu order - a traditional Honduran meal which is basically a bean and cheese fondue served with tortilla chips.
It comes out quickly, but it's TINY with maybe four chips.  I'm choked, but a few minutes later, the same dish arrives at the table, but ten times the size.  I didn't realize it was served as a complimentary appetizer and by the end of the second clay pot I want to vomit.

The next day we spend most of the morning checking out the ruins.  They're pretty spectacular, we even manage to sneakily join a seniors' tour.

We stop in a comedor for lunch and fill up on delicious cheap pupusas (thick tortilla filled with meat and cheese and served with pickled veggies.)  We wander around town and check out a couple museums.

For dinner we stop at another comedor and I enjoy an incredible coconut curry, but poor Mike gets served the rarest burger I've ever seen.  When he asks the waitress to have it cooked up, we can hear that familiar 'hummmmm' of a microwave.  I don't know how, but he manages to avoid food poisoning.

The next day we forgo the expensive shuttle in favour of the $1 public bus, besides, boarder crossings have been a cake-walk so far.
We begin the cross into Guatemala.  A lady with an iPad stops us and asks us a couple simple questions and then stamps our passports.  No lineups, no exit/entry fees, no customs form, no x-ray machine, no collection of fingerprints.  It doesn't seem right, we've obviously missed a step.
A bus driver approaches us and insists we need to hop on and bus to a neighbouring town. 
We are skeptical that he may just drive us to the next part of the boarder.  We keep asking where we need to go next and he keeps telling us (in Spanish) there are no other options.  We find a guy who speaks English and he confirms that we are officially in Guatemala. 
We don't have any Guatemalan currency, so I ask if he'll take American and he says yes.
I only have a ten so I give it to him and he repeatedly tells me it's only $5.  I finally manage to explain it's all I have.  He says he'll get change in the next town, but comes back and through a lot of hand gestures and slow speaking, manages to explain to me that because the bill is slightly ripped he cannot accept it.  I hand him a twenty and hope for the best.  Everyone else on the bus glares at us for the hold up.

Once at our destination the driver calls us over to the main depot and the guy working the desk tries to explain that he won't accept the twenty (for whatever reason).  This guy has a translator on his phone and after a lot of difficult back and forth, we understand that we can pay with our Honduran lempiras. 
He points us in the direction of the bus to Antigua and we hop on the first bus we see.  It's a bit of a stressful drive as we pass other vehicles at 90 km/h in a construction zone, atop of a steep cliff. 
We're also anxious because we have no idea where we'll get dropped off, plus we still need to get cash and have no idea where to catch our connecting bus.
One of our questions is answered when we roll up to a massive mall and bus station on the outskirts of town.  At least it's not the heart of Guatemala City and there seems to be a bank in the complex.  We start up the escalator to the cash machine and see our first fellow backpackers in transit in nearly one week!  And she's running up the stairs beside us yelling, "Are you guys going to Antigua?  We are too!  Where does the bus leave from?  We can't find anything!"
She (Courtney, a girl from Vancouver) and her companion James had come from Copán as well and were having the same issues as us.
We tell them we'll find them once we hit the bank.

Luckily, they figure out where we need to go and wait to see if we want to split a cab into the city.  We have a nice chat on the way to the random, unmarked bus stop and hop on the pimped out, hot red chicken bus with the neon under glow.

We crawl through the thick traffic and our bus driver pulls some ruthless moves while the numerous street vendors hop on and off the bus, touting their wares.
Guatemala City is loud and obnoxious, with smog so heavy that even the locals cover their mouthes and faces.  Three adults cram onto a school bus seat meant for two children and then even more cram on. 
Finally we make it to Antigua and the guy throws our backpacks off the roof while the driver starts away.

We wander down to our first hostel choice and it's fully booked.  We hop on a rickshaw to our second choice and it too is fully booked.  It's all feeling very familiar.  Frustrated, we wander around before finding two dorm beds in a hostel that doubles as a Spanish school.  It's built in this ancient castle-like complex.  The rooms are cold and dark, but it's a place to lay our heads.

The common area at our first hostel aka my decorating dream

We pop next door to the Indian restaurant and although the spices aren't super authentic, it's nice to have a fresh, cheap meal. 

In the morning we're up early in search of a new hostel.  We finally stumble onto A Place to Stay which is equipped with a full kitchen.  The owners, Kerry and Jual are friendly and warm and they have a house full of bunnies and cats, including a litter of kittens!  AND they have private rooms, although I was sold at kittens...

I die every time!

We wander the town snapping pictures of the beautiful surrounding volcanoes and crumbling cathedrals.

We grab fresh produce and pasta from the market for mere dollars and finally enjoy a homemade meal (not to mention the cuddles of various kittens.)

The next day is the big Mercado Day so Mike and I go in search of souveniers for loved ones.  I have my eye on the colourful ceramic sugar skulls with one problem: I'm terrible at haggling.
Mike advises me not to look too interested, to start low and to just walk away if the price isn't right.  I can't act disinterested, my face gives me away immediately, so I let Mike do most of the talking and manage to get a good deal.

You wish you were cool like me...