My intention to stay in Finca Tatin until Friday was thwarted by horrendous tropical storm. The rain began wed evening and when it rains it really rains in the jungle! Sleep was impossible due to the din, the thatch is covered by corrugated plastic on the huts but that was no match for the downpour. Water seeped into the rock and wooden walls and my bed resembled a pond. Time to decamp.
Throwing everything I own any old how into the bags I joined the exodus on the Rio Dulce boat at daybreak. An hour later, wet and cold, I surveyed the town and it looked as bad as I remembered. Impromptu queries on transport options produced a result. A gringo working in the projects (local charity run schools) was taking his car to Guatemala city for supplies and was happy to offer lifts for 100q. Perfect. A fellow English woman, a sprightly 70 year old from Liverpool, joined us too, handy for female support (esp for bathroom stops).
A flat tyre held us up by an hour work so it was rush hour when we hit the city. Nightmare traffic. Luckily my English travelling companion spoke Spanish and we organised a taxi onward to Antigua. Two hours of crawling traffic. But I’d called this friendly little hostel and sorted my room for a day earlier than planned, so by 9 pm Thursday I was back in my tiny single room at the Villa Esthela. Shared bathroom, but free tea, power, wifi and a comfy bed.
I was absolutely shattered which precipitated not relief but a sudden massive panic attack about my flippant comments re rabies in Flores. To travel independently means, for me, to consciously block out as much anxiety as I can, but I do regret now being so blasé. Thankfully the risk in Guatemala is minimal so I have now put my panic behind me, chalking it up as a salutary note to self to take care. Grateful to the kind folk at this hostel who listened patiently to the exhausted English women bursting into tears and to my wonderful family for being there for me.
Thursday was a very long day but Antigua feels, surreally, like home. It is familiar territory. I have Friday and Saturday to relax, sort my laundry and prepare for Nicaragua on Sunday. Being warm and dry is a delight. I adore the sensation. Livingston was amazing, I shall treasure the memories, but it is great to be dry at last.
Throwing everything I own any old how into the bags I joined the exodus on the Rio Dulce boat at daybreak. An hour later, wet and cold, I surveyed the town and it looked as bad as I remembered. Impromptu queries on transport options produced a result. A gringo working in the projects (local charity run schools) was taking his car to Guatemala city for supplies and was happy to offer lifts for 100q. Perfect. A fellow English woman, a sprightly 70 year old from Liverpool, joined us too, handy for female support (esp for bathroom stops).
A flat tyre held us up by an hour work so it was rush hour when we hit the city. Nightmare traffic. Luckily my English travelling companion spoke Spanish and we organised a taxi onward to Antigua. Two hours of crawling traffic. But I’d called this friendly little hostel and sorted my room for a day earlier than planned, so by 9 pm Thursday I was back in my tiny single room at the Villa Esthela. Shared bathroom, but free tea, power, wifi and a comfy bed.
I was absolutely shattered which precipitated not relief but a sudden massive panic attack about my flippant comments re rabies in Flores. To travel independently means, for me, to consciously block out as much anxiety as I can, but I do regret now being so blasé. Thankfully the risk in Guatemala is minimal so I have now put my panic behind me, chalking it up as a salutary note to self to take care. Grateful to the kind folk at this hostel who listened patiently to the exhausted English women bursting into tears and to my wonderful family for being there for me.
Thursday was a very long day but Antigua feels, surreally, like home. It is familiar territory. I have Friday and Saturday to relax, sort my laundry and prepare for Nicaragua on Sunday. Being warm and dry is a delight. I adore the sensation. Livingston was amazing, I shall treasure the memories, but it is great to be dry at last.
No comments:
Post a Comment