Day 1, Part 2

Our ride to Guatemala was a mini van (collectivo) that cost about U.S. $12. Not a bad deal for five hours of travel. The only other guy in the van was a British Forces member who was stationed in Belize City. His next career move was to build a hostel in Guatemala near the El Salvador border. I pieced together through inference and admission that he saw no job opportunities in the U.K., had fallen in love with a Guatemalan girl, and preferred the climate of Central America to that of his homeland. His two years in Belize, friendly nature, and native language made him a valuable resource for us.

The trip to Flores took longer than we expected. A freaky Dutch tour group took about a year to get through the border. Other than that, my first border crossing on foot was uneventful. Or, so I thought. More on that in a later post.

The whole process took about an hour because the Dutch regaled the Belizeans with bad jokes and we had to wait on our bus driver to transact various business.

The booze from Herman's hut took its toll on me briefly just before we got to Flores. Fortunately I was still on vacation high because Travis got grumpy as soon as we rudely woke him from his nap. Dude can sleep ANYWHERE. He'll just put his head against a window or neighboring passenger and pass out. It's amazing and fills me with envy. While I endure hangovers and stinky seat mates, Travis recharges for the next adventure.

Our driver stopped to pick up his buddy and allow us to change our Belizean dollars for Guatemalan Quetzales. His buddy, like all driver's buddies, was a tour guide and all around nice fella. Despite being an expert on all things Flores, he would provide his services at absolutely no charge to us. He knew a guy who could do anything we wanted. Hiking? No problem. Lodging? That place you read about in your guidebook is no good but driver's friend knows just the place. We politely declined and found our way to the funkiest hostel I have ever seen. World music played as we entered the jungle canopied common area. No joke, jungle canopied, open air common area. It was beyond cool. The place is called, Los Amigos and is run by a Dutchman. The vibe was similar to Via Via, the Belgian run place we stayed at in Nicaragua in 2009. Dozens of people were drinking, talking, flirting, eating, and surfing the web.

It struck me that hostels in Europe are very different from those in Central America. The Central American variety is more charming. Also, European hostels usually offer just the basics (bed, food, internet, tv) while their Central American counterparts will set you up with adventure trips, tours, and a library.

Los Amigos did not have any beds available but the Dutchman set us up with a guide for El Mirador who also happened to have a bare bones room for rent for U.S. $5.50 per person. No hot water and the whole room flooded when you took a shower but we did not have far to go for breakfast and our departure in the morning.