Canadians like pets, and in residential neighbourhoods it’s common to see people walking their dogs after an early diner, no matter the weather.
However, unlike French, Canadians are well-behaved and they pick up after their dogs—streets here are not dotted with dog poop.
Everybody makes mistake. We did a bunch of times. Like the time we got robbed by guys with machetes in Volcán Agua, Guatemala. Or when we got mugged in Panamá City.
We like to think we are wiser now. But sometimes, things are simply out of our control.
Santa Elena and Flores, the base to explore Tikal, are twin cities but they couldn’t be more different. The main bus station is in Santa Elena. It’s a huge muddy ground from where depart chicken buses, minibuses, taxis and tuk-tuks. It’s pack with touts, tired drivers and helpers busy to retrieve luggage from the roofs of said buses.
That’s what you first see of Santa Elena.
Tikal is probably the most famous Mayan archeological site, both because of the number of temples and because of its location. Indeed, the structures are still hidden deep into the rainforest and while a few peak above the canopy, most are buried under moth and trees.
Basically, if you want to feel like Indiana Jones looking for the mundo perdido, here is your chance.
Bang! Most kids had gathered in the streets and were playing with firecrackers. It didn’t take long for the entire town to be all smoky and smell of gunpowder. A few people hand-threw actual fireworks, in between power lines. Ahem… But again, most were probably drunk—to hell with safety!
This is what you hear when you get to any frontera in Central America. Here, borders invariably feature a lot of police and military, chaotic crowds, more or less zealous passport checks and a lot of walking. Indeed, the actual border—usually a gate in the middle of the road—is often located a few kilometers from the nearest border towns, hence the need to walk or take a taxi.
Riding the chicken bus is never boring. Like this morning, a cow escaped from God knows where and slowed the traffic down. I also love how locals use pickup trucks: the back is really handy to carry entire families.
The bus was going fast, way too fast for an old school bus turned long distance transportation. I closed my eyes and focused on listening to the reggae music blaring through the loudspeakers. When you travel, you can’t control everything. You just have to let it go and hope for the best.
As soon as we exited the zona libre, the bus sped up. All the windows were wide open and the wind was crazy: it was like riding a convertible for two hours. After a few minutes, I gave up on trying to hold my hair back and simply put on a pair of sunglasses to avoid being blinded by the dust.
