Guatemala, Chased by Monkeys but not Guerillas

6/25/01

Sorry for the scare everyone,

I’m in Flores, Guatemala, and it feels pretty safe. Looking back on my last email I think that I experienced some type of culture shock. It was a bad combination of having money troubles, seeing too many men with machine guns, and hearing too many horror stories from travelers: the story of the fifty prisoners on the loose, the tourists that were raped and tortured in Tikal, the robberies at gunpoint, and then the final topper, the two cars full of Mennonites that were gunned down.

I asked a travel agent about safety in Guatemala and he responded by saying that sometimes things happen in Latin America, but usually you are safe. I had become accustomed to Costa Rica where the crime rate is low, and there’s no military. I was shocked to see the other side of Latin America.

After enduring a meeting as painful and difficult as a Middle Eastern peace talk, Sarah and I agreed on a compromise that would allow us to remain traveling together. I am now traveling with Sarah and Michelle along La Ruta Maya, which should be remained La Ruta Gringo. La Ruta Maya stretches from the Northern Guatemalan Region of Pitan, down to the ruins of Copan in Honduras. The towns near the Mayan ruins have lots of gringos and gringo luxuries such as email, nice restaurants, and travel connections. These towns are fairly safe.

The Tikal ruins have the worst reputation for guerilla attacks on tourists, specifically Americans. Tikal is in a remote jungle setting with only one road leading in and out, and usually only tourists visit Tikal. The guerillas that are hiding out in this region stop tourist buses as they pass through, lecture, and rob “American Imperialists,” and sometimes rape women. Visiting Tikal is a gamble. Sarah and Michelle took a tour to Tikal today, and I decided to stay in the cozy gringo town of Flores to wait for them.

Flores is a tiny pueblo located on an island in the middle of Lake Pitan Itza. There are quaint cobblestone streets that meander through brightly painted blue, yellow, and red buildings. All streets come together on a hill in the center of the town where a white peeling Catholic Church and a town square rise above town. From the square you can see people paddling around Lake Pitan Itza in dugout canoes that look like they were hand carved from the rainforest around them. The calm water of the lake pushes open the dense tropical forest.

Today, instead of visiting Tikal, I decided to take a boat across the lake to a biological reserve. We skimmed over a lake lit by the soft morning sun and made our way to the adjacent shore. The guide edged the boat ashore and then told me in Spanish that we were at the reserve, and that he would wait in the boat as I went alone into the forest to see Jaguars, monkeys, Peccaries, parrots, and crocodiles. After seeing my look of confusion he explained that the animals were all in cages. I asked him once more, “usted espera aqui, claro? “ (You wait here, right?) and he nodded yes.

I ducked into the jungle and followed the depressing path of caged animals. Guatemala doesn’t quite understand the concept of eco-tourism yet. The last thing that you want to do is travel thousands of miles to see the last of the worlds most exotic wild animals trapped in a cage in the jungle swimming in their own urine and feces. I passed by the caged wild pigs, the caged and cramped crocodile, the exuberant irritated monkeys, and turned around before visiting the Jaguar. I came back to the shore and found my guide sleeping in the boat. He was sleeping in a weird position, lying on his belly with his leg lying over the side. To my dramatic imagination, it kind of looked like he’d been shot, and fell halfway out of the boat. However, he woke up and prepared to take me to the last bio-reserve site.
He cruised the boat over to a tiny island, edged it ashore, and once again told me that I could get out and see the animals on the island. “Oh God, I thought, not this again.”

I stepped off the boat and wandered onto the tiny island. I jumped up into the air when a Scarlet Macaw squawked from a branch behind my head. As I looked around, I noticed things were a bit different on the island. The wild pigs were loose and roaming the island. Hmm…I thought…these things have some nasty teeth, but I’m not going to worry about it. I’m sure they must be fine. Then I swiveled around to see a monkey that was screaming as it looked up at me. The monkey started coming at me, and I was shooing it away with my hat. While shooing the monkey away, I could see lots of monkeys all around the island. I freaked out and started running for the boat. There were five monkeys running after me. I hurled myself from the shore to the boat where the guide was chuckling. The monkeys jumped up onto the boat in pursuit as I hid behind the guide saying, “no me gusto loss moons.” (I don’t like the monkeys.) Laughing, he told me that the monkeys are just friendly. He shooed the monkeys off the boat and we headed back to the little island of Flores.

Truly, everyday is an adventure here.
Next stop Copan, Laura