Tikal

Deciding it was time for a splurge on transportation, we forked out on a private shuttle to get to Flores from where you can explore the ancient Mayan ruins of Tikal. It was pure luxury – with only one other passenger in the van, Neil from Nashville, we spread ourselves out along a bench seat each and slept the entire eight hour drive (though we’d all been told it was five hours – they lie a lot in Guatemala), besides for the quick fried chicken lunch stop where we ran into Georgia and Richard (our batty friends), who were lived with the knowledge that our van was so empty – theirs resembling the public collectivos with limbs hanging out every window.

Finally arriving in Flores, a small island on Lake Peten Itza, we tried to work out how we could get to the hostels found at the gate to the Tikal – we wanted to see the sun rise from the ruins so thought it would be easier to stay as close as possible. Unfortunately, everyone we asked had an ulterior motive, ie. getting our money. They told us that it was impossible to get there that late in the afternoon (3pm) and that a taxi would cost USD60. Annoyed and frustrated that we couldn’t make it there considering that it is so easy to get everywhere else normally, we checked into a hostel, the Mirador del Lago and set off to find some food and to organise a tour of Tikal for the next day.

Red tuk-tuks zooming around the island of Flores

Still hoping that we could see the sunrise over Tikal, we booked a tour leaving at 430am. We thought this would give us plenty of time to get to the ruins. Unfortunately, tour operators here, though incredibly easy to book things with, have a nasty habit of being either incredibly unprepared (the usual) or over prepared; nothing ever goes smoothly. That morning we got a taste of both.

Waiting outside our hostel at the requisite 430am with the other Tikal goers, a slow procession of buses soon arrived, but even though they were all run by the same tour company, we couldn’t get on just any one and fill it up – we had to wait for the bus allocated to us. Buses left half empty or too full. It was madness. Just our luck, our bus was the last to arrive, some 20 minutes late and it had one seat left. Our driver took it upon himself to try and fill the seat – circling the island’s hostels to try and pick up another passenger. We were relived when finally gave up on this plan at about 5am, hoping that we still might get there in time, but here’s were the unprepared element comes in (and this happens all the time) – he then stopped to fill up with petrol. We enjoyed the sunrise… from the car…

When we eventually pulled up at the gates to Tikal, right in front of the hostel we had wanted to stay in, we were introduced to our guide for the day – Caesar. I had instant flash backs of Machu Picchu, Ceasar being quite ‘Freddy’ like (our Machu PIcchu guide), though Ceasar spoke with an American accent, and said “you get what I mean, guys?” a lot. (I didn’t get what he meant and tuned out after about half an hour). Instead of tyring to comprehend what on earth Ceasar was talking about, I stood in awe and gazed at the huge structures that make up the site (and at the coatis fighting on the path).

The main structures of Tikal date from 600 AD (though some outer lying buildings date from 300 BC ). Caesar took us around all the main sites including The Lost World (El Mundo Perdido) where we scaled the steep stairs to the top of the Great Pyramid, which at 30 metres high, is the largest pyramid in Tikal. Sitting at the top, slightly dizzy from the height, we got an amazing view across the canopy to the other structures that poke out amongst the trees for miles.

     

We wouldn’t have seen even half of what Tikal has to offer, one part being a six day hike from where the tourist bus drops you (our guide told us that he did this once in bare feet...) But, I must say, I don’t think my little legs would have carried me much further than what we saw that day. It was a long walk from structure to structure in high humidity. With my ‘I’m not getting bitten by mosquitoes’ outfit on – I was feeling the heat, and smelling it – ever since our trek to the Lost City my backpack absolutely reeks. I thought it might be a bit of a mozzie repellent, but no such luck.

   

Last, but definitely not least, we explored the Great Plaza, the Temple of the Great Jaguar (shrine to King Moon Double Comb…), the Temple of the Masks and the North Acropolis where Giant Jaguar Paw, Curly Nose, and Stormy Sky were buried (what is with these names??) and by the end of all that, we were all Tikaled out.

Time for MEXICO!!!