Apocolypto 2006

AUGUST 1 - Not a lot to report on our first day. We flew from L.A. to Cancun via Dallas (first class all the way and in both directions, thanks to Mike's Executive Platinum status and miles!), then took a bus to Playa Del Carmen, arriving at around 6:30pm. Playa Del Carmen is a tourist resort town. We checked into our hotel, then Kevin and I went for a quick dip in the ocean (it was dark already), then we went out for a nice bite to eat. It was all very pleasant. Weather is 92 degrees and humidity is 200%. Our hotel has a kitchen, etc., laundry service across the street and really strong air conditioning (very welcome after our two-mile walk from the bus depot to the hotel with all our gear).

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AUGUST 2 - Still in Playa Del Carmen -- very busy all day doing nothing (see associated photos for "details"...)

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AUGUST 3 - Took a nice bus from Playa Del Carmen to a hotel near the ruins of Tulum. We decided to walk from the bus station to the hotel because we were told it was 1.9 kilometers. We were misinformed. It turned out to be five miles (according to Kevin's GPS) in 92-degree heat with about 100 pounds of stuff. Fun! The good news: nobody got heat-stroke, and our hotel was on the beach. After an urgent, life-saving dip, we grabbed a taxi to the ruin, and spend a little time there. Tulum is newer and smaller than any of the other sites we're visiting on this trip. Best thing about Tulum: Location, location, location. It sites on spectacular cliffs over the ocean.

We walked back to our hotel, and had an over-priced tourist meal (really looking forward to getting away from the tourist stuff). Kevin and Mike went swimming in the ocean, during which it started raining. Great fun.

After a shower, Amira and Mike turned in early, while the boys found a raucous party at the outdoor bar of our hotel, where they flirted with European tourist girls 'till the wee hours.

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AUGUST 4 - Today was a big travel day, from Tulum in Mexico to Santa Elena (near the Tikal ruins) in Guatemala, by way of Belize City. We got up around 6, and took a taxi from the hotel to the bus station. We had breakfast across the street from the station, then caught a very nice first-class (air conditioned with bathrooms) bus from Tulum to the border city of Chetumal. After clearing customs, we learned that first-class busses direct to Flores don't run daily (as the guide-books say), but only every other day or so on an unpublished, unpredictable schedule. A "regular" bus to Belize City was about to pull out, so we sprinted for it and jumped on. The "regular" buses around these parts are reconstituted American school buses (they paint them so they're not yellow) and stop whenever and wherever anyone wants to get on or off. They're also packed, so that much of the trip, it's standing room only (we got on at the station, so we had seats).

Belize is a very unusual country, with people of African, Mayan (and other native peoples) and -- in a very small minority -- European descent all speaking English with a Caribbeanized accent. Most Belizeans also speak some or fluent Spanish. It's an incredibly wet country, with most houses on stilts, but with lawns. Most homes we saw from the bus were shacks, ranging from being made from scrap and held together by improvised buttresses to nicely tended, colorfully painted shacks.

At at bus stations, small children ranging in age from 7 to 12, and sometimes women, work the passengers from the inside and out selling food and drinks. In Belize city, they sell fried banana chips, tamales, pizza, hamburgers, sodas and juice. Amira bought the boys chicken tamales and me shrimp pizza, all had fried banana chips and random Belizean pastries. Kenny later regretted the tamale, but pulled through.

The bus from Belize City to the Benque on the Guatemala border was quite a ride. On any straight stretch he drove maybe 70 mph or so on narrow roads with cross traffic, passing traffic and slow traffic. On corners, he slowed down a little.

Crossing Belize by bus is really fun. Almost every home has people there during the day, and everyone is outside, as the houses are small. Everyone stops what they're doing to watch the bus go by. We saw some pretty funny sights. Example: It was sprinkling a little, so a horse went up on someone's porch to stay dry. Nobody seemed to mind.

Our bus from Belize City to Benque was scheduled to take 2.5 hours, but took 3 hours and 45 minutes, so we missed the last bus on the other side. We made the decision to cross anyway, so we took a taxi (the only way) from Benque to the border station, paid the $60 exit fee for Belize. Outside their we were pounced upon by all-purpose hustlers, offering rides and money exchange at wild mark-ups (accompanied by lies about how these are the standard, going rates). Amira and Kevin hoofed it over to Guatemala customs, and there found a guy (not a "taxi driver" per se -- just a guy with a car who wanted to make money). His price was $60. Amira offered him $50. He refused. Kevin told Amira "walk away" so they did, and then he accepted $50. The trip was about 70 miles over some spectacularly bad roads near the border, getting better as we approached our destination. The driver was a super nice guy, giving us tons of information about Guatemala, and was a really good driver. We gave him $60.

Total travel time today: 16 hours.

Our hotel looks like a business hotel right out of New England -- brand new, spacious, etc. It's a two minute walk from the bridge-connected island of Flores, where we went to grab a late-night (11pm) dinner.

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AUGUST 5 - Had a quick breakfast of fruit and eggs, then headed off (by bus) to Tikal -- one of the most amazing, and definitely the largest, of the Mayan ruins. Unlike most sites, which are near towns that evolved from villages peopled by the descendants of the builders, Tikal is deep, deep inside a rain forest and was totally abandoned and forgotten by about 900 A.D.

The site is beyond spectacular, with what are the highest "pyramids" (actually tomb-temples) in the Mayan world (Temple IV is a whopping 229 feet high -- a skyscraper!). Only a very small percentage of the site has been unburried -- you see pyramid-shaped mounds of dirt all over the site.

The last of the red-hot rulers, and the driving force behind many of the currently viewable buildings, was a dude whose name translates as -- I'm not making this up -- Lord Chocolate.

Kenny, it turns out, has a case of "Tourista," which one contracts by drinking Mexican water or eating something washed with Mexican water. Mike left Tikal with Kenny after a couple hours, and Kevin and Amira stayed on to see more of the site (which is, as Kevin says, is "ginormous").

Kevin is training for another triathlon, so he took the opportunity to do "stadiums" on some of the temples and Mayan structures (sprinting up as fast as he could).

Later, we left our fancy hotel and went across the street to a dive pupusaria. It had all the ingredients Kevin looks for in a dive pupusaria: 1) plastic patio furniture; 2) inadequately bright florescent lights; 3) entire kitchen outside in plain view; 4) entirely family working; 5) seating in front of building on shoulder of road; and 6) cheesy music playing in the background. Kevin alone ate enough to feed a family of four. Amira and I also ate a lot. With beverages, the total was about $9.

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AUGUST 6 - We took a 3.5-hour bus from Flores to Rio Dulce, arriving midday. While unloading, we were offered assistance by a fellow named Edwin, who turned out to be incredibly helpful. Rio Dulce is a noisy, chaotic town, so having some help from Edwin was very welcome.

Edwin is a jack-of-all-trades tour guide. First, he recommended a better hotel (cheaper, air conditioning, better view, Internet access) than the one we intended to stay at. He helped us with our bags. He also negotiated a great deal on chartering a boat to visit a really cool spot. He went with us, showing the boys some of the hidden wonders of the site (more on that shortly). Later, he even showed us where to find a really good place to eat.

Anyway, we checked into our hotel, and tried to order lunch. Our boat was waiting, so, after more than an hour the hotel restaurant hadn’t even started preparing our food, we cut our losses, hopped on the boat and took off up river toward a the massive lake Lago de Izabal. The ride was mega-pleasant, and we arrived at our destination after about 45 minutes.

Edwin was taking us to a watering hole that exists on a huge farm (cows, chickens, corn -- the lot) called Finca Paraiso (Paradise Farm -- which turned out to be accurate). We docked, paid off the farmer and hiked a couple miles to the swimming hole. The hike was interesting. The children of farm hands (all Mayan) were loitering here and there, shyly watching us, and giggling, etc. Their homes were thatched huts with walls made from sticks -- according to my Maya book, archeology reveals that these homes are made in exactly the same fashion with exactly the same materials as Mayans made thousands of years ago. We saw houses like this all over Guatemala.

Much of our hike was along the river. Children were jumping off anything they could, swimming in the river, splashing around, laughing and basically doing what kids do -- clothing optional. There was nothing in this scene that would identify what century you’re looking at. It was one of those sights that makes you question the wisdom of modernity.

We hiked past cow pastures and corn fields until we entered a kind of jungle. Arriving at the site was breathtaking. Surrounded on all sides by steep jungle hills, hot-spring water (about 105 degrees) cascades down a waterfall into a cold river (about 60 degrees) into a deep pool formed in the river by the waterfall (about 70 degrees). Edwin showed the boys various spots to climb, and hidden caverns under the waterfall. The place was just beyond belief -- a natural playground of the highest order.

Our return boat ride at sunset took us past a tiny island full of birds, which we approached and photographed, as well as a very old fort build hundreds of years ago to defend the river from pirates.

We ate dinner at another first-rate dive pupusaria, went back to our hotel and crashed.

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AUGUST 7 - In order to make it to Roatan by end of day tomorrow (August 8), we needed to start very early from a Guatemala port town called Livingston. We took a small boat (capacity of maybe 8 passengers) down river, which turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip so far. We had plenty of time, as we needed to travel only a small distance (maybe 30 miles or so) and make it in time to find a hotel room. We booked passage on the 1:30 boat, giving Mike time to get some work done and post a couple of diary entries and photos and Kevin time to write some post cards.

En route, we passed another "island of birds," followed by a stop at what passes for a Mayan convenience store. The family that owned the "store" was loitering about, with three of the kids paddling around in a canoe, and the youngest kicking back in a hammock. We bought some coconuts to drink, then eat, and shoved off.

We stopped at the side of the river, where a natural hotspring was corralled off. The water tempurature was enough to make Kevin wince with pain after sticking his foot in it. I don't know what the locals use it for.

All along the route, we spotted Mayans here and there fishing or commuting in tiny dug-out canoes -- fishing how most of these river Maya make their living. Most of them don’t speak Spanish, but a Mayan language.

We went up a tributary to a small, UN-sponsored deal where locals make baskets, hammocks, bowls, jewelry and the like for river travelers like ourselves, and the proceeds help feed them. We bought some stuff. En route, we made a stop to pick up a passenger that never materialized but, while waiting Kevin took the opportunity to swing on a rope that was hanging over the docks (he has been reading "Tarzan" on this trip and so was inspired to swing from anything resembling a vine).

We pressed on, passing through the narrowest part of the river, which was walled in by spectacular rising cliffs upon which trees and plants were somehow growing (they were very nearly vertical).

We arrived at Livingston, which looks like a cool town, but appears to maintain a constant, universal "shake-down-the-tourists" mode. We found only two possibilities for hotels, as the entire town was booked nearly solid. One option was an unbelievably dirty, shabby hotel (it looked like a crack-house -- I'm not kidding) -- $30 for two rooms (each with two tiny beds) and another a pleasant, tasteful, air-conditioned and lovely hotel for $100, which is way more than we wanted to pay. Normally we would have opted for the crack-house (we don't mind "roughing it" if we can save some money). We were very suspicious, however, of the fact that the crack-house was completely empty -- we would have been the only guests -- despite how crowded all other hotels were. Clearly others know something about the hotel that we do not, so we went with the nice and expensive hotel.

The hotel had an Internet cafe across the narrow street. Kevin was alone in this tiny room using a PC, when he noticed a crab the size of a dinner plate on the floor eyeballing him. Kevin jumped up, and the crab jumped up. Kevin moved to the left, and the crab moved to the left. In unison they moved to the right. It was a primal contest of man and beast, and the beast was winning. Kevin sat down and tried to keep using the computer, but the crab kept tried to attack his feet. Finally, Kevin ended the contest by leaving. The crab had successfully defended its territory.

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AUGUST 8 - Big travel day today -- nine vehicles and 13 hours. We had arranged with the taxi driver who brought us to the hotel for his son to pick us up again at 6am so we could catch the 6:30 boat to Puerto Barrios. We had no tickets, and wanted to get there at least 20 minutes early in order to make sure we got them (we had already paid for our hotel that night at our destination: the island of Roatan in Honduras and getting there in one day would not have been possible without catching the 6:30 boat).

It was raining, and by 6:05 our taxi hadn't arrived. We asked the hotel owner to call another cab, but she was unable to reach anyone. Then she said she knew someone with a pickup truck who could take us, and we agreed. The guy was there in like 60 seconds. As we were loading our bags, our taxi arrived. We told him he was late, so had made other arrangements. The truck guy got us there immediately. We paid him a little over $3, which he seemed happy about, then bought tickets for the last four seats available!!

The boat held about 20 people. As we sped along the coast, a massive thunderstorm to our left provided entertainment. It started raining, so the boat driver passed out wet, mildewy tarps to cover ourselves with. We arrived at sunrise after a 40-minute boat ride.

Every time we disembark anywhere on this trip, there are always people jockeying for our business to take us anywhere we want to go. Such was the case here. We got out of our boat and were accosted by a bunch of drivers. We chose one, who said he would take us all the way to the Honduran border in his minivan. At the Puerto Barrios Guatemala customs office -- a shack -- the driver took our passports inside and had them processed. Then he drove us to the Honduras customs shack at Corinto and dropped us off. We were immediately mobbed by some dozen or so young men, each waving huge wads of cash and offering to change our Guatemalan quetzales to Honduran lempiras at the "standard rate" (always an obscenely inflated one). We actually did need a few, so Amira bargained with one of them on the rate. The guy asked our minivan driver permission to accept that rate. Hmmmm. Then, as the piece de resistance, before leaving, our driver hinted to Kevin that he had drugs for sale.

We grabbed some beans, rice, cheese and tortillas from a mom-and-pop food shack at the border, then jumped on our next bus to Puerto Cortez, Honduras. We waited to leave because the bus was having some engine trouble. The driver's boy announced that one of the engine's belts was about to snap, and that we would be met shortly by a replacement bus, which never materialized. All busses here appear to have both a driver and a helper.

At Puerto Cortez, we were immediately hustled (meant in two of the three senses of the word) into a large minivan for the trip to San Pedro Sula, a very large, noisy and dirty Honduran city. The trip was an adventure. The driver was a vile, obnoxious human being, making obscene gestures to girls walking down the street, nearly running over children, rapidly accelerating while old ladies were still trying to make it to their seats and cussing the whole time like a sailor. Whenever our driver saw police, he pulled his seatbelt over himself and held it there with his right hand to avoid a ticket, then releasing it after the danger had passed. He approached every person at roadside who looked like they were waiting for a ride, while his assistant hopped off to convince them to accept a ride -- especially at bus routes for "legitimate" carriers. He was in competition, apparently, with other busses of the same size, each trying to make it to the next bus stop before the others to pick up any willing passengers. One of his nemeses blew a tire, and he pointed and loudly mocked him. Very shortly thereafter HE blew a tire. He didn't change the tire -- he had no spare -- but continued as before, albeit at a speed more closely resembling the legal limit. Suddenly, traffic stopped, and we smelled the over-powering stench of beer. It turns out that a beer truck had crashed into a power line. Our driver went "fun truckin'," off-roading over the center divider and making it past the gridlock. A miracle occurred, and we made it to the San Pedro Sula bus depot alive.

There, after a short wait at the station, we piled into a very comfortable full-size bus and headed off to La Ceiba, the port town where we were to catch a ferry to Roatan. As the bus rolled, a man stood up and delivered a 45-minute infomercial for vitamins he was selling. The vitamins were not pills, but a liquid meant to be injected, and it came with a syringe. The sales pitch was really over the top. Amira translated a couple gems thus: "If your child has a fat stomach and skinny legs, and is ugly, then you need to buy this... if you're farting, and it sounds like the war in Iraq (he then made example fart noises), then this will cure you..." Something like 20% of the passengers bought at least one box. He paid his bribe to the driver and got off.

Along the way, we stopped at a rest stop, which was huge, clean and sold us super delicious tamales, etc., which we enjoyed on the bus.

While cruising along, our driver suddenly applied the brakes. A drunk guy -- I mean barely-standing drunk -- had staggered onto the highway. After he stumbled to the opposite lane, our driver passed slowly. A grandmother on board leaned out and shouted something to him. Naively, Mike assumed she said something along the lines of, "please get off the road, you're going to get hurt!" until Amira translated what she really said: "Why don't you get under the tires, you son of a bitch!" Welcome to Honduras.

We arrived at the lovely town of La Ceiba, and took a cab to the docks. Then we had a nice, 1 hour, 45-minute ferry ride in a very large boat to Roatan with an occasional dousing of warm, Caribbean seawater. The dock part of the island was utter chaos, with tiny buildings, narrow, hilly, twisting streets and people everywhere. Our cab ride to the other side of the island took us along the shore for much of the trip, where crabs were scampering across the street. Our driver said they were doing that because it was going to rain that night. Some of them didn't make it.

We arrived at our hotel, which was built and is run by an American dude. It's a really beautiful hotel, each party of guests with its own cabana. Each cabana has a porch with chairs and a hammock, and the interiors have ceiling fans, microwave ovens, fridges, etc. The site is like a botanical garden showcasing a wide variety of Central American tropical plants and a popular spot, apparently, for hummingbirds. We're one "block" (a 50-foot sandy lane) from what some travel magazines rate as one of the top ten beaches in the world (you'll see in the photos I'll post in tomorrow's entry).

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AUGUST 9 & 10 - Spent two days goofing around on Roatan. But first Mike intended to get a little work done. The Internet connection at the hotel was flaky or non-existant, so Mike and Amira caught the $2 water taxi to another part of the island famous for having two Internet cafes. When they got there, however, the power was out on the whole island, and remained so for the next 8 hours or so. The rumor circulating around the island was that the power company forgot to buy diesel and ran out of gas. That's why the power was out...

Kevin hurt his ear attempting a tricky maneuver -- essentially an uncontrolled flail, followed by an ill-advised mid-air rotation -- off a pier. He'll pull through.

Not much to report -- it's a super nice beach with very clear, warm water.

On Thursday, we all spent nearly the entire day splashing around in the water -- even during a period of heavy rain.

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AUGUST 11 - We woke up at around 3am because our cabana was stifling hot. The air-conditioning had stopped, and we had all the windows closed. The power had gone out again, so we opened the windows and tried to go back to sleep.

When we got up, the power was still out, and remained out until a few minutes before we left at noon.

After breakfast, Kevin and I went for a parting dip. With power out, there was no water in our bathroom, so we rinsed off with plastic cups outside using the spigot placed for rinsing sand off feet.

Our taxi driver -- fortunately -- arrived some 45 minutes early, so we piled in and headed for the airport.

En route, we tried to find an ATM powered by a generator, but in vain.

Along the shore, traffic came to a sudden stop. A home/store was on fire, and the fire department was extinguishing it. Some 50 yards down the road, a pickup truck was being pulled out of the ocean by a tow truck. Our taxi driver piece it all together with a theory: The owner off the store -- a friend of his -- heard that his place was on fire, and sped to the scene. He was driving too fast to make the turn, so he ended up driving over the sea wall and into the water.

We made it to the airport anyway, where we saw that someone had parked an SUV, left the engine running, and also left two small children inside. The kids were pressing every button and pulling every lever -- the windshield was going like mad. It was only a matter of time before they pulled the brake and put it into gear. So our taxi driver walked over and turned it off, throwing the keys up on the dash.

The flight was awesome, affording a grand view of Roatan from the air. At the San Pedro Sula airport, the boys and I briefly used PCs at the airport's cyber cafe.

We took a taxi to a bus terminal downtown, walked around looking for food and drinks, then piled onto the bus.

The bus was strange. The driver and his two assistants insisted that the curtains remain closed in order to prevent the bus from heating up. They filled all seats, and filled the isles with people sitting on plastic stools or standing up. It really sucked, especially for those without seats. (The drive was about four hours.)

We arrived at Copan Ruinas at dusk. (Oddly, the town near the ruins is called "Copan Ruinas" but the ruins are called simply "Copan." Coincidentally, the bus arrived across the narrow lane from our hotel. We had only to walk about 20 feet.

Our hotel is cool, but really cheap -- $10 per two-person room per night. None of the hotels in Copan has air conditioning, as we're in the mountains and it's always cool enough at night.

After checking in, we strolled around this beautiful, hilly, cobble-stoned town. It's become much more touristy since Amira and I first visited years ago. We at an awesome "tipico" meal of beans, rice, fried plantains, avocado, crema, cheese, tortillas and scrambled eggs. From an ingredient standpoint, with the exception of the rice, "sour cream" and cheese, we ate exactly what Mayan families would have eaten at this very spot 2,000 years ago. The eggs would have been turkey eggs, and they might have had turkey meat as well. They would not have fried the bananas (a trick Mexicans and Mayans learned from the Spanish). The corn would have come in the form of tamales, rather than tortillas (tortillas originated in what we now call central Mexico and didn’t make it this far south until a few hundred years ago).

Just before going to sleep, Amira and Mike noticed two lizards crawl in the window and cling to the wall. Mike chased them back out the window, but one returned, only to slip through the crack in the door. After everyone else had gone to sleep, Kevin was still awake and watching "Lost" on his iPod, when he thought he felt something moving on his bed. He ignored it, but shortly thereafter felt something on his stomach. It was completely dark in the room, so he used the light from his iPod to see that a lizard was standing on him.

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AUGUST 12 - We over-ordered and subsequently overate at breakfast at a very pleasant and good restaurant. We visited the local museum, which has a very small number of very important pieces from Copan. Then we went to Copan -- the Mayan World's most artistic and literary site, which flourished during the Mayan "Classic" era (250 A.D to 900 A.D.). Words can't do justice, but these pictures come closer.

It took the hotel all day to do our laundry. We didn't understand why until we discovered that they don't have a dryer -- they hang them on the line on the roof.

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AUGUST 13 - Today we planned to take a 6-hour small bus from Copan, Honduras, to Antigua, Guatemala. The "bus" turned out to be a minivan most American families of four would consider too small, yet they managed to pack 15 of us (plus driver) into the vehicle -- two more Americans, a couple of Germans, a smattering of Italians and a few others of indeterminate nationality.

At some point during our journey, we stopped to take a break and let out two passengers. The stopping point was a junction between two major highways somewhere in Guatemala, and so dozens of little food and drinks stands had organically sprung up there. It was very hot -- at least 95 degrees -- and we were standing around.

Suddenly, we heard a very loud screeching of tires. We turned and saw that a mid-size bus had slammed on the brakes because a man was walking across the road. It was clear that he was going to be hit. We all stood there helplessly and watched the bus slam into him. I'll spare you the details, but it all happened right in front of us, we saw the whole thing, and it was really horrible. An ambulance arrived in less than two minutes, but the man probably didn't survive the accident.

We pressed on, arriving after about 8 hours in the city of Antigua, which, it turns out, is a very, very awesome city. Founded in 1543, it features incredible old Baroque architecture everywhere, cobblestone streets and very fashionable residents and tourists. Antigua is the former capital of the Kingdom of Guatemala, which included most of what we now call Central America and also the Mexican state of Chiapas. Adding to its awesomeness is its mountain location -- no heat, humidity or mosquitoes. The population of Antigua peaked concurrently with the signing of the U.S. Declaration of Independance (60,000) residents. Today it has about 34,000.

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AUGUST 14 & 15 - We spent two days eating and shopping. The shopping ranged from chic clothing stores to the massive, flea-market like mercado frequented almost exclusively by locals.

We had a horrible dinner (everything was deep-fried and nasty). Mike got sick (now all but Kevin have gotten "tourista") The boys were out late at a hookah bar flirting with German and Austrian girls Monday, then the next night carousing with said teutonic tourists -- salsa dancing and whatnot.

Our hotel here in Antigua is really pleasant. The hotel building is a giant square, all rooms surrounding a fountain garden courtyard. The room ceiling is about 15 feet high, with large windows opening to the street. The floor is tile. One odd feature, the toilet and shower are in the bathroom, but the sink is in the room by the front door.

Throughout the trip, we have been a burden and an annoyance to waiters across the isthmus and peninsula. We're vegetarians. Amira grills waiters on ingredients and methods of preparation. Kevin doesn't want sour cream or mayo on anything. Mike wants his tea with two bags, with cold milk (they always heat it here...) and served well before the meal. Kenny doesn't want tomatoes on his food, etc. We're always still deciding what we want as the waiter stands there. Foodservice industry of Central America and Southern Mexico: We're sorry!!

Amira is great at bargaining with street (and non-street) vendors, but Kevin is the master. He's able to string them along, letting them know that he might -- just might -- be vaguely intersted in making a purchase, if only they bring the price down far enough. He's typically getting something like half the price initially offered on just about everything.

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AUGUST 16 - We took a white-knuckle, death ride from hell today. At any given time during the 3-hour minivan ride, we were tailgating, passing across the double-yellow on a blind curve, taking corners at double the advisable speed or all three! The trip was beautiful, a fact we were able to perceive despite the terror.

We traveled from Antigua to Panajachel, a cool town on lake Atitlan, which is lorded over by three gigantic volcanoes. (The lake itself is a collapsed volcanic cone.) The majority of residents in this area are indigenous Mayans.

We arrived, and checked into our funky hotel, which has "Bob the Builder," "Barney the Dinosaur" and "Winnie the Pooh" sheets and pillowcases; exposed wiring on the shower head (the water is heated at the spout); and a padlock on the door. On the plus side, the view is excellent and they have room service!

We had fun walking around, "window shopping" (they don't have windows, but you get the idea...), eating everything from fancy pastries to street vendor fare.

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AUGUST 17 - We had breakfast at the same restaurant where we ate the night before, but immediately after breakfast, Kenny was hungry again, so we found a second restaurant and ate a second breakfast. Kenny ordered the panqueques (pancakes), and it arrived with honey, rather than maple syrup. We asked if they had syrup, and the waitress/cook/owner said "no." But two minutes later, another woman who worked there showed up with a half bottle of syrup, followed some 30 seconds later by the original woman, who produced a second partial bottle of syrup. Where the women went, and where these bottles of syrup came from, one can only speculate. But we can say that the spirit of customer service is alive and well in Panajachel.

We took a small boat from Panajachel to an awesome hotel called Casa Del Mundo, which is stacked on the side of a high cliff and can be reached only by boat or on foot. The hotel, which is the dream project of an American guy and his Guatemalan wife, IS the destination -- it's considered the best hotel in Guatamala, not because it's luxurious and fancy, but because of its spectacular location and pleasant atmosphere. Although it's the coolest hotel Mike has ever stayed in, the price was lower than the cheapest, two-bit corporate airport hotel he has ever been forced to stay in while traveling on business. Every spot at the hotel has awesome views, a good restaurant (which is nice, because no other food is available) and cool features, such as a wood-fired hot tub (it's basically a top-loaded Franklin stove right in the middle of the tub). Mike, Kevin and Kenny spent the day jumping off various railings and rocks into the lake. Unfortunately, dinner was served at 6:30, so we had to get out.

Dinner was nice -- we spent most of the time talking with two Danish grad students, both of whom had cases of "tourista." They had recently toured Cuba, but found it oppressive and disturbing.

After dinner, we just hung out in our room, watching the distant thunderstorms from the room's balcony and windows. The lightning was striking several times per second for several hours, each time silhouetting the volcanoes across the lake and the clouds around them.

We had a couple spiders in the room with a leg span of about three inches. Amira killed one of them with her shoe, and we never caught the other one.

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AUGUST 18 - We had arranged with hotel for a boat to take us at 5:30am back to Panajachel where we were to catch a bus to the Mexican border. The boat driver slept in, so a security guard had to go wake him. We shoved off late, and enjoyed an awesome pre-dawn race across the empty lake. The only lights were the few street lights in the various towns around the lake, and our boat's handheld spotlight. We arrived at the pickup spot just as the bus did. We were all crammed into another tiny bus -- this time in the back. There was less than zero leg room (our knees were literally crammed into the backs of the seats in front). The drive sucked, but we finally made it after about four and a half hours. After being processed by Guatemalan customs, we crossed the border on foot, then caught another bus to the city of San Cristobal de las Casas (which is Spanish for "Saint Cristobal de las Casas").

San Cristobal is like Antigua in some respects, especially its age (it was founded some 450 years ago) and importance during colonial times. It was pouring rain when we arrived. As is the case elsewhere -- though more striking in a larger city -- Mexicans don't use umbrellas for rain (for sun, sometimes, but not rain). They find shelter in doorways or wherever they can and wait for the rain to stop. So as we arrived, everyone was just standing still -- an entire city just standing there.

We didn't have hotel reservations here, so the guys found shelter and stood there with the Mexicans while Amira went from hotel to hotel asking to see the rooms looking for good accommodations, which she found. Kenny had come down with some kind of flu, so we planted him in a bed, fed him and went out for a bite in the hotel restaurant (after a quick trip to the local grocery store for some pan dulce). We had originally planned to stay just one night, but as Kenny was sick, we decided to stay an extra night, so Mike, Amira and Kevin went around town looking for a hotel for the following night. We found a very charming hotel with a spacious comfortable room just a half block away.

Mike and Amira turned in early, and Kevin went out clubbing 'till the wee hours.

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AUGUST 19 - Mike and Amira went out for breakfast at a themy restaurant called Paris Mexico. The restaurant had three rooms -- one devoted (floor to ceiling framed prints) to Pancho Villa and other lionized Mexican criminals; one devoted to French impressionist painters and their ilk; and one devoted to the ancient Maya. Weird.

Mike and Amira later took the "colectivo" bus (a run-down, low-priced minivan bus used by poor folks) to visit a local Mayan town San Juan Chamula. The town itself was OK, but had an amazing church called San Juan Bautista. Built in 1523, the church was probably the oldest Spanish building we've seen so far. They were very strict about not allowing photographs to be taken inside, so we'll describe what we saw.

Walking in, we immediately felt the heat from what must have been 10,000 candles. People were bringing and lighting candles to accompany their prayers, along with (in a few cases) offerings of bottles and cans of soda. I guess you get more points with God for lighting more candles, because these very obviously poor people were burning them in very large numbers. They were on tables in glass, and on the floor.

Amira counted 31 men furiously cleaning the floors -- a couple guys scraping wax, a few more with scrub brushes, others picking stuff up, still others mopping, etc.

Something like 20 people were in various states of prayer, mostly women in full Mayan regalia, some with children. There were no chairs anywhere in the church, so everyone who wasn't working was kneeling, bowing, standing or lying down. Some were sitting or kneeling on pine needles, which were spread out like a carpet in some spots on the church.

Curtains hung at the center of the ceiling draped across and were attached at the walls. The inside was ringed by glass-encased mannequins of various saints, about half life-size, each with creepy, oversize eyes. These cases were all draped in branches of a flowering plant called culumote and each had about a half-dozen vases of fresh flowers. A line of palm frawns adorned the walls at about seven feet high, ringing sides of the walls, which were painted white and very dirty from the candle smoke.

We took the "colectivo" back to town. The Mayan kids in the seat in front of us stared at us the whole way as if we were from another planet, which, it seems, we are.

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AUGUST 20 - We took a big bus from San Cristobol to Palenque today -- a little more than a five-hour trip, mostly through spectacular mountainous rain forests and small towns.

We had a stop at a run-down bus stop, of sorts, which looked like a great place to get hepatitis. Looks can be deceiving, however. We ate some of the cleanest and most delicious food of the trip there -- cheese quesadillas, beans and horchata. Kevin had hot chocolate.

The rest stop had a dilapidated bathroom, but cost two pesos to enter (about 20 cents). They rationed toilet paper (the guy taking your pesos monitored how much you removed from the roll, which was sitting on top of a garbage can at the entrance) and the toilets had no toilet seats. One can understand poverty, but the guy made enough pesos during the 30 minutes we were there to buy new toilet seats.

After arriving at Palenque, we hoofed it to the hotel from the bus terminal. When nearly there, a large monkey in a tree overhanging the gravel road we were on started chucking things at Kenny -- a stick, and also two small guavas he picked from the tree. In Kenny, no doubt, the monkey found a kindred spirit and wanted to play.

Hungry, we made the mistake of choosing the first restaurant we found, ate a horrible dinner (American cheese on the nachos; Amira's "soup" was salt water with vegetables in it, etc.), before wandering around the busy town. We bought some really excellent horchata from a street vendor, and some yummy "raspadas" (Mexican "snow cones") -- Mike had guanabana and Kevin and Amira had tamarindo. We bought Kenny some tamales from the same street vendor and went back to our hotel.

Random travel note: Kenny has saved us multiple times by discovering items we would have left behind in hotel rooms as we're checking out. His keen eye always finds the odd object buried in a blanket or in the corner somewhere. After he returns the would-be lost item, he lectures its owner about their transgression, and strongly urges future caution.

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AUGUST 21 - Mike and Amira snuck out of the room at around 8am while the boy's slept and enjoyed a nice breakfast outside in front of the lobby entrance to our hotel/restaurant. As a bonus, the hotel across the street had an unsecured wireless connection easily accessible from our table, and Mike spent three hours or so updating pictures and this journal.

After the boys were fed, Mike, Amira and Kevin headed off to the Palenque site (Kenny still had a fever, and so unfortunately stayed at the hotel.)

Wow! Palenque turned out to be our favorite ruin of the trip. It's an absolutely beautiful site, with the Mayan world's only internal-staircase tower, and all kinds of internal rooms and unique features. Eight rivers were channeled into aquaducts, including one channeled through the main building ("The Palace") via a corbel-vaulted aqueduct.

Kevin ventured into a pitch-black room in the site's "Temple of the Jaguar" to take a picture. The flash revealed that it was full of bats!

Here are the Palenque pictures!

We paid half price for a very late checkout of something like 10pm. So after showering, eating and packing, we headed off to the bus station to catch our 11pm bus (which ended up leaving at midnight).

While waiting, Kevin bought a tamale from a street vendor. It turned out to be one very hot tamale (spicy wise). After the pepper hit him, Kevin looked for relief by grabbing a bag of Doritos and shoving a handful of them into his face. Tragically, he happened to grab the "spicy nachos" Doritos, which aggravated his condition.

Shortly thereafter, one of the boys spotted a grasshopper flying around the open waiting area. Although courageous in matters of jumping off high places and the like, the boys squeal like schoolgirls at the site of any insect, and began doing so there in the station. Fellow passengers -- all Mexican -- watched their display with a mixture of confusion and distain.

While waiting, we watched TV news reports in the terminal about protester/rebel types in nearby Oaxaca burning buses and blocking roads.

We boarded the bus and headed off into the night.

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AUGUST 22 - We woke up at around sunrise, still on the bus. After a few more hours we arrived at Merida (at around 8am, after an approximately 8-hour ride), where the boys ate a breakfast of terrible quesadilla (swimming in sour cream) and two bowls of "Zucaritas" (i.e. Frosted Flakes) at a dive joint across the street from the bus station. We all waited for our next bus to Chichen Itza.

We arrived at Chichen Itza in a couple hours, unloaded our packs, and deposited them at a pack-holding place. We ate an over-priced, American style luncheon, then slogged out into the heat and humidity to see Chichen Itza.

The experience of visiting Chichen Itza is degraded by the huge numbers of visitors there at all times (and all the tourist infrastructure built to support so many visitors), which is the result, no doubt, of the site's proximity to Cancun. Most of the visitors seemed uncomfortable venturing outside the safe, Americanized tourist "bubble" created by the Cancun-industrial complex. It was actually a bit of a culture shock after spending the previous two weeks well outside said bubble. Still, there's no denying the awesome achievement that is Chichen Itza.

The site itself is very different from any other we visited because of its unique history. As the Mayan World was crumbling, Chichen Itza was conquered by the Toltecs and rising as a regional superpower. With access to superior Mayan artists, architects and engineers, the Toltec-Mayans created a cultural fusion, combining the gods, stories, iconography and other cultural elements into one spectacular, beautiful freak of a site.

Click here for the Chichen Itza pictures.

After a few hours, we officially achieved ruin fatigue -- the incredible heat didn't help -- and decided to surrender and head back to the interpretation center, an oasis of shade, ice cream and air-conditioned bookstores.

We caught our bus to Cancun, taxi to the dock, ferry to Isla Mujeres, taxi to hotel.

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AUGUST 23-26 - We spent the last few days of our trip enjoying Isla Mujeres, a touristy -- but not TOO touristy -- sandy, sunny island offshore from Cancun.

Isla Mujeres means "Island of Women." The boys were disappointed to learn that it isn't populated by wild tribes of half-naked Amazons. (There are wild, half-naked women here, but of the Italian tourist variety.) The name was given by its Spanish discoverer who saw numerous statues of the Mayan Moon Goddess, Ix Chel.

Being our final vacation stop, we decided to splurge a little. We stayed at the nicest hotel on the best beach of the island. We just walked a few feet to get to the water. We had two awesome rooms with partial ocean views, luxurious modern bathrooms and climate control. The rooms had an all-white decor; king size beds with white comforters, white ceiling fan, large glass sliding doors with white drapes opening onto a nice patio with, of course, a white hammock.

The beach was absolutely breathtaking; white powdery sand lined with coconut trees with warm shallow crystal clear water fluctuating in color from turquoise to different light shades of blue.

Our days here were characterized by: 1) eat food; 2) waste time at Internet cafe; 3) splash around in clear, warm, shallow water; 4) rinse; 5) repeat.

Our "Innocents Abroad" wildlife encounters at this location involved a crab and a cockroach. The crab pinched one of Mike's toes as he emerged from the water. Mike and Kevin tried to chase the crab out of the water, but the cunning crustacean outwitted them. The next day, Mike emerged from the water and went into the hotel. Just as he entered the hallway, Amira, Kevin and Kenny erupted into screams -- the cockroach they had cornered made a move, and it freaked them out. Mike "evicted it" with a plastic cup and a piece of paper.

We tended during this trip to be culinary adventurists, eating at a huge range of establishments, from the most elegant Antiguan eatery, to the dodgiest street vendor. However, In Isla Mujeres, we uncharacteristically ate every single meal at the same restaurant: Bucaneros.

On our second day there, we did go on a little trip. We woke up at something like 11:30am, rented a gas-powered golf cart and drove to the other side of the island. There we went to "The Turtle Farm" (the Isla Mujeres Tortugranja) -- basically a bunch of pools and tanks filled with various species of turtle. Then we visited the ruined house and grounds, called Hacienda Mundaca, of a 19th-century slaver/pirate, which someone has half-assedly turned into a dilapidated zoo of sorts. We checked out the monkeys, iguanas and quasi-wild pigs and other attractions, as well as the house and gardens. After that, we stopped at a dock called Playa Lancheros, where someone had built two underwater corrals, each with a large nurse shark in it (not deadly). Kevin waded into one of them, then some guy came along and got in with Kevin. He grabbed the shark, and handed it to Kevin so he could hold it. We drove back along the eastern side of the island, which was striking. Some of the houses were spectaular dream homes; others were shacks made out of junk. Everyone had a nice ocean view, however. We stopped for some popcycles and sliced fruit (someone had constructed a stand in front of their house -- they went inside to fetch the popcycles from their own freezer).

On the evening of our last night on Isla Mujeres, we went for a dip, and lingered in the shallow water for a couple hours, well beyond darkness, talking, floating and generally doing nothing. We really didn't want our time here to end.

On our last day, we took the ferry to the mainland, and unwisely wandered around Cancun in 100-degree heat before heading off to the airport.

Overall, our trip was truly amazing. We had a wonderful time, and gained a newfound appreciation for the Maya, Guatemala, Southern Mexico and, yes, the U.S. (you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone...) -- but, especially, Guatemala. This is a breathtakingly beautiful country with wonderful people, many of whom strongly and successfully cling to their Mayan ways despite all. (By Guatemala, we mean also the Mexican state of Chiapas, which was unceremoneously taken from Guatemala in 1823 -- it will always be Guatemala to us...)

If we had to do this trip all over again, we wouldn't change very much. The main change would be: Don't bring fins, masks and snorkles. Rent. We lugged this heavy, bulky bag all over creation, and snorkled only once.

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