Guatemala, and places time has forgotten.

From Cuba, I got on the plane to Honduras. By the time I had finished my flight to the Panama City I had a cold that was escalating. At San Pedro Sula airport, I got a nice taxi man to take me to the hostel; I had been in, before going to Cuba. Next day, I got into a taxi to realise I had asked to go to the bus station. I didn’t know which one so told him I needed to go to the border. Well he was so kind and suggested I get this bus just a little bit away. He waited in the taxi for me and hailed the correct bus. Then after I told that bus driver, where I was going, he later shouted down a bus passing us, so that I didn’t have to go to the terminal. In the middle of the street my bag was whisked off one bus and both it and I were on our way to Corinto.

I was making excellent time and had saved so much by not having to wait at any of the bus terminals. However, just as I was congratulating myself, it all went pear shaped. The driver forgot to tell me to get off at the right stop to change for Puerto Barrios. So I was then dumped on the main road at some bus stop to get back to where I was supposed to get off.. Of course the bus took ages to come. I then got to the little town I needed. I had no breakfast or water. So took this as an opportunity to stop and eat. This of course delayed me further. Anyway I arrived at 2.30pm in Puerto Barrios, several hours after I wanted to be there so missed the ferry. But, it was ok, I had got through the border to Guatemala and I was in plenty of time to take a lancha, (a quicker motor boat) to Livingstone, which was quite cool.

After an hour boat ride I was there. Of course being the only foreigner, I was pounced on. This elderly gent wanted to help me find a hostel. For commission I assume. I had no idea where to go. AND to BOOT I was ill as hell. The cold, I had acquired on the flight from Cuba had graduated to a fever cum headache and I was in no mood to be railroaded. So I said I had no idea where I was going probably more rudely than I meant to but... I just wanted to think and be left in peace to do so. I just rushed to the nearest cafe for sanctuary. I decided I couldn’t bear the main backpacker scene and just wanted a room to myself to sleep... I arrived at the Hotel Rio Dulce, a beautiful yellow painted colonial hotel. One of the guys sitting around in the lobby was particularly friendly and started chatting. He just happened to have been in Dublin last week. Within 5 minutes of arriving I was offered a foot massage. I JUST WANTED TO SLEEP. I said this and it was a great way of getting out of a tricky situation.

I went to my new room and slept til the next day. I was not well. Crap! Next day I got up late and wandered around looking for fresh orange juice and food. It is a nice town but lots of friendly men. In the hostel, that evening I was desperate for a fresh orange juice. So the bar man prepared one. I went to bed.

Next day I thought I will get up and sleep in the hammock after food. Well kindly barman comes up so I wake up and he pulls up a chair. He was a nice chap and not pushy but just picked up a towel and had it on his knee and about to take my foot before I realised I was about to get a foot massage. Hmm obviously foot massages are big here. Well i intoned I was really ill, still with a fever and just wanted to sleep. Bless him, he didn’t push it and left me snooze which I did for another few hours. God I am sleeping like the dead. This fever has totally wiped me out.

Later I went wandering in town and met this great Mexican lady with GREAT food. She has worked in many places and was married to an Indian man for a while, so learned how to cook Indian food. Various people came in and I recommended my food and had some nice chats with some other Mexicans and a couple of English girls to boot. So far every Mexican I have met has been lovely.

I really wanted to go to some Garifuna music but my body wasn’t up to it so er em I went to bed. I think I am awake for all of 6 or 8 hours per day.

My 4th day in Livingstone and I have not seen any of the sights. So I wandered around a bit more. I went for breakfast at this little sandwich place and ended up taking to this rather amazing gent. He was from Livingstone but went to the US in his teens. Now, retired from the police force, he had returned. He owned the hotel next to where I was sitting. He had funded the sandwich shop I was eating at and basically was financing the locals to set up businesses on the street I was on and around town. He was trying to create a little bit of a restaurant and hotel area and make it a bit of a haven from the bar area. He was succeeding. It was really lovely.

He was also in the neighbourhood watch, which he had set up. He himself patrolled that evening between midnight and 6am. Many of the criminally intent come over from Honduras and Belize, which are only an hour or so away, to steal boat motors etc. According to Lonely planet, Livingstone is apparently a bridge for many drug traffickers although these tend to leave the tourists alone. It also and I quote “Some areas… had a bad reputation for some years, but some locals “took care” of the trouble makers (we don’t want to know the details)” unquote….

Well as our conversation progressed, I realized I may be speaking to one of “those locals”. As I was chatting, this Canadian, now living in Livingstone for about 5 years joined us. And the caht contineud on things that had goen down in Livingstone. Apparently lat night soem guys from Belize and come over and stole a lancha including the motor. This is someones livelyhood. I was not sure if they were caught. But apparently Belize is only 20min way.

The Canadian then asked about the pirate murders. Huh!! Have I stepped back in time. Apparently there were 5 pirates working River Dulce. This area has loads of yachts with wealthy tourists attached. And the pirates are hitting these. A few weeks ago some of these pirates boarded this American couples yacht. The man would not cooperate so they shot and killed him. However, 3 of the pirates were later caught and killed and the other 2, a mother and son, the buyers, had been imprisoned. Quick justice! I guess!
But as all good converstations have to end, so too had this one. I said my goodbyes.

I felt a lot better, so next day I arranged a lancha to Finca Tatin. A very small cabin indigenous type "hotel" on the river bank. I was still wrecked from the fever, so holed up there for an expensive 3 days. It is very isolated, so all food has to be eaten there. But there is a communal dinner each night which was nice and where I met a few nice people. One night I went on a night walk through the jungle right behind the hostel. It was a nice walk and we saw a few creepy spiders in their rather large webs but it was a bloody expensive 45min. Shorter and a hell of a lot less interesting than I was imagining. Nice but could. have skipped it.

I rented a canoe for half a day to try to get to this nature reserve but after paddling upstream for over an hour, I thought better of it. So I went to the hot spring which was a bit of a pond sectioned off from the river, into which some hot water flowed. I was in no mood to expose my bikini clad body to the 4 male staff nearby or the passing boat traffic. I settled for a tour of the cave instead. Could have skipped that too. Oh well! I really enjoyed the canoe though and I managed to paddle back in about 20 min.

That afternoon, some of the other guests were jumping off this swing into the river so had a go at that. During my time there I got to read an amazing book on global warming, which pretty much frightened the crap out of me as to what is happening climate wise.

I took the morning Lancha along the Rio Dulce to the town of Rio Dulce. The trip lasted a few hours and went to a crafts shop. The river scenary was impressive and attention grabbing. A superb gorge and river boats adding to the experience.

At River Dulce, I booked the next bus to Flores which gave me time for lunch. Five hours later I was in Flores. In the major backpacker hostel Amigos. However, it was lovely. The guy who runs it is vegetarian and pretty politically minded. He has a host of DVDs with documentarys on very left wing topics. I watched a few of Norm Chomskys. Riveting stuff on US and it international terrorist acts. The US has done viscious stuff in total contravention of International law.

I booked into "Amigos" because I wanted to find peopel to go on teh 5 day hike to El Mirador. A very out of the way set of temples located in the middle of the Guatemala jungle, literally miles from anything. No roads, just jungle. I spoke to the one of the staff and in 5 minutes i was put in touch with 4 chaps tryign to do the same thing. So I figured I may not get an other opportuinity to do it if i didn´t go tomorrow. Bit rushed but I dolled out my dollars and got rid of my travellers checks. I went shopping for snacks etc with the boys. They seem pretty a cool bunch 2 guys from Paris (Charles and Edouard), One German (Julian) and 1 Isreali (Maor).

Next day we met at 6am, we were off. We got driven to the nearest village and after that, we were alone with our 2 guides. one walking withthe 5 of us, the other to take the mules carrying large containers of water, food and our stuff. I was wary of being with 4 fit guys all in theri early twenties. but it was fine. I was more than able to keep up. Lucky for me, most of the walk over the next few days was on the flat. We waked for miles through what appeared more like a forest than a jungle, but jungle it was as we saw various species of exotic birds and even a snake. And bet of all we heard the howler monkeys, which howled like ferocious lions but were only 2 feet long.

Our guide carried our lunch which consisted of bread and Jam etc. I had been told my wheat problem would be taken care of but no. Most of our food was pasta and bread. Lucky I had snacks. After 7 or so hours of pretty rapid walking we arrived at camp. Pretty primitive. We ate our chicken dish by candlelight, played cards and eventually went to sleep in our tents. The guides slept on hammocks with mosquito nets. I had a tent to myself being the only girl. The nights were a little chilly but not much.

Next morning at dawn, we arose, ate and walked another 7 hours. That evening we were in a workers camp. Many indigenous come here to collect chipotle from trees. This makes chewing gum. They make cuts in the trees and the chipotle oozes out and they gather this. We tried some and it really is like chewing gum.

The toilet was a wooden construction, with a hole in it AND with a wooden toilet seat. Ah the comfort. This was surrounded by walls of heavy plastic and about 5 minutes from camp. It was kind of creepy walking through the jungle in sheer blackness with just a flashlight but pretty amazing too. You could hear the monkeys howling and moving through the trees around you. You just had to be careful of walking into spiders etc.

Next day we set off early for our second day of 7 hours. At our second camp, we ate and played cards etc. again. By the time we were ready to sleep, the guides were chatting with the Chipotle workers and were nowhere to be found. There were only 2 tents out. The French dissapeared into one of them and Julian dissapeared into the other. Only Maor noticed I had no tent.I was not too keen needless to say to sleep outside a tent but I found my only other option, a wooden bed under some canvas and went hunting for some mosquito net to keep the various insects off me. I found one wrapped in hammock and started to try to hang it from the ceiling. Maor bless him helped me but as I moved the bed from the wall of the canvas, I found a huge tarantula and a scorpion to boot. All my good intentions of sleeping on the bed evaporated. There was no way I could sleep ina place where very large spiders and worse scorpions could bite me. Maor my angel offered me room in his tent with him and Julian. So I tried to sleep in their tent. It was not the best nights sleep I had. However, it was safe from insects and vampire bats.

Next day, Julian, Maor and I wanted to see the sunrise. So Julian woke the guides for directions. We got up in time but the French were slow. Julian was getting irriated at their inability to move quickly. Sunrise is so quick here you really have to get to where you are going in the dark. The French didnt know where it was so wanted us to wait. With Julian in front and me last, we carried on. The French lagging behind and me trying to mediate trying to follow Julian but pausing long enough for the French to see us. Why I bothered I dont know. At the top of the temple there was an atmosphere. We arrived at light not in the darkness. Not quite the way to do it. Julian and I were dissapointed and the French were just plain grumpy especially Eduard. Still it was so beautiful.

The temple was on a mound and pretty high up so you could see for miles around. It was just miles and miles and miles of trees, forest, jungle. Green as far as the eye could see with the odd plant strewn stone temple sticking out in the distance. It was breathtaking with the mists rising out of the green.

Later at breakfast, I felt really bad. Our guides had put my tent up but away from the others. What was worse, was I had used one of their mosquito nets for my wooden bed and the guide thought it was being used so didnt take it. I just felt so bad. But I guess next time they might show the stupid travellers where things are, so they can find them in the blackness.

We were introduced to the El Mirador guide who was to show us the various ceremonial sites. It was wonderful not to have to fight for space and to have the place to ourselves. We could sit for as long as we choose or go quickly. Our guid showed us the arbol de Amor. These are trees that grow very close together and are called trees of love. The were pretty tall and thinn but impressive. Later the guide showed us this amazing face careved intot eh stone. It had been partially reconstructed and painted in the original colours so you could see all the face and detail. It was udner wraps and were werent supposed to see it.

We wandered around for some hours climbing temples etc. It was a fairly special place, made all the better as it was diffiucult to get to and not many did it.

That night, we thought we will get in time for the sunset. So we set off this time in full light. The mood was much improved due to the rather great day we had and as we had several hours to calm down. We took in the view and just chilled waiting for dark, each in our private world. This time it was more spiritual.

Although it did get kind of creepy towards dark. There are many stories according to the guides of people sleeping on the temple and hearing voices etc. According to the Mayan, these are the voices of the long dead Mayan, who are non too pleased to have anyone sleeping on their sacred temples and even throw pebbles at the trespassers. I read about one bunch of travellers who had a similar experience, when they slept here. It was superb though, to be the only non Mayan there. Just 5 of us on top of the temple which felt like being on top of the world. The sounds of the jungle surrounding us, especially the Howler Monkeys, howling their lungs out in the black night. You really felt like you were in the jungle, somewhere special. We came down pretty quickly once darkness set in.

Next day it was the start of the ardous trek home. Our guide did show us some tombs etc. on the way.

Food was more limited and was pasta again. My energy levels high at the start were beginning to wane due to the wheat. I could feel myself falling behind. Maor was too but he was just getting bored of the view of trees and more of the same trees.

That evening we arrived back at our first camp. We were hot and stinking dirty after 4 days of walking without showers or a hint of water on our bodies. There was a stagnant pond near the camp, so we stood on a shaky platform and lowered a bucket into the water to use to wash ourselves and our clothes. The water was quite brown but we didn´t dare go into the pond, as there were lots of strange things lurking in it that popped up every now and then . The guides didn´t go in either strangely enough. It looked like something from prehistory. We were all having a great laugh and playing cards, when Eduard got in a grump and started an argument over some card rules. The rest of us were just chilled but he went off on one and that was the end of the card game. I really liked the other 3 but he was beginning to be painful. We would all be having a lovely conversation in English, which we all understood and then Eduard would start speaking French to Charles and that would be it. They would continue in French. Charles was a lovely chap and was fluent in German, so had chats with Julian when walking etc or was goofy with Maor with whom he got on like a house on fire, as if they had know each other for years. He was also better at English and Spanish than Eduard and loved to talk in any Language.

I think Eduard was jealous and just wanted Charles to himself. It was an odd and unfriendly situation. Later when I mentioned that maybe it would be nice to give a tip, it was Eduard who said we had paid enough for the trip and didnt want to give anymore. Charles went along with Eduard but I feel he would have gone along with us, if Eduard had not said anything. I said that was his choice but the guides were not the ones who received much of our money or choose the food.

The last day was a real struggle for Maor who was soo bored and lagging behind. I lent him my ipod as his had run out and he had shared his speakers with us. HE was grateful and perked up.

However, about 3 hours towards the end the bottom of my boots separated from my heel. Our guid e suggested putting some rope around. That helped but it kept slipping. I limped well behind with the guide for the last part. The boys shot ahead. At the village where we were to be picked up, I b ought some beer for the guides and that was that we were delived by truck back at our hostel. It was first to the showers and then a good sized meal from Los Amigos. Julian, Maor and I sat down near the french but again Eduard tried to speak in french. I really dont want to have any more to do with him. Neither did Julian. We left. He seemed to be nicer to Maor, so he stayed.

It was soo good to go to bed. Next day I just sat, read or watched DVDS and rested and didnt even go outside the hostel. It was nice to take a day off.

Next day I organised the sunrise tour to Tikal. One of the most famous if not THE most famous Mayan temple site in Central America.

I had to get up at 3am and by 4.30 we were at the site in pitch darkness. My head torch that I had brought specially for such occasions, MALFUNCTIONED. It was a struggle to turn it on and then it just flashed. So I kept it low to the ground. There were quite a few people at the site. Maybe a hundred. So different from El Mirador. I had hoped to do them in reverse.

We got to the temple and the head of the Tikal site told us that he had just won the right to continue doing the sun rise tours but there was a risk all the time that the powers that be would stop permitting them. Climbing the temple took about 10 minutes. It is a tall one. We all sat at the top waiting for the sunrise. I had been warned that it would be misty so had no expectations. Others I think were dissapointed. The director at one point told us to be quiet as there was too much noise. He reminded people this was a temple, a sacred place. We could hear the howler monkeys again and then a family of these racoon creatures came by. They were so cute but apparently viscious. Our guide was an amazing character. Really knowledgeable and entertaining. He had many funny anecdotes and kept us enthralled til 8am. One of the workers came up to him and showed him a tarrantula which we got to take a foto of.

Some of the temples you can just climb up others have a stairs constructed to the side. One of these was incredibly steep and various people struggled on the way down as they could then see how far they had climbed. That slowed things down a bit. Lol.

The place was phenomenal though, even with all the tourists. I was able to wander around by myself once the tour had ended. At one stage I came across another guide, showing a caiman (sort of like a small crocodile) sunbathing itself near the lake. Even got some photos.

I took another nights rest before heading to my next destination Lanquin. I met 2 girls Anne and Adi in the hostel and they were on the same shuttle. It was about 8 hours there but some nice views. At one stage our mini bus had to get on this wooden raft type thing and be ferried across the river by this small motor. It seemed a nice little town from the colours of the houses and the little motor boats ferrying people across the river.

At Lanquin, we tried to get into El Retiro. This hostel has loads of little cabins and a restaurant ina wonderful setting by the river and is usually booked solid every day. We didnt arrive till 4pm, I got lucky and got the last bed but the girls managed a hammock each but were actually really pleased with this, as it was cheaper.

I ended up spending 5 days here. It was great to jsut have a rest and read and chill. At the start it was a bit clique with too many Isrealies but then the non Isrealies or Isrealies who didnt want to hang out with other Isrealies found each other. One of the barmen was Irish then I met another guest from Dublin and his friends. A German girl, and American with English parents and this 60 something Psychologist. They were a brilliant gang and the conversations were riveting. I also met this guy called Guillaume, of a French mother and an English father but brought up all over, mostly in India. He was trying to start a business in Guatemala, as he really didn't fancy living in England. I found his perspectives really interesting and we had some good chats.

On my third day, I went on the tour to the National park in Samuc Champey.We were driven there in this jeep along a pretty rough dirt track. We passed this other truck doing the same tour. I have nevr seen such a packed truck. We all had to take a foto adn they took one of us.
The first stop was Cuevos de Marias. This are underground caves, through which he local river runs. We had to carry candles or overhead torches. As my over headtorch broke, it was candle time. We followed our guide through pretty cold water, often upto or past or heads, although most was waist deep. It was fun. Then it was off to the swing. A rope had been tied to a tree and we all got to swing into the racing river, after that, it was into the inner tubes of tracktors and we floated with the current towards a designated spot. Then it was onto the bridge. We were supposed to jump off this bridge into the river. I couldnt do it. It was just too high. I was dissapointed but wasnt the only one to renege.

Then it was Le Piece de resistance. The Samuc Champey park itself. I followed the path to the Mirador (Look out point). I wasnt going to but thought, I might regret it. Oh my god I would have been devastated if I had missed it. The view of the pools below was absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. I stayed a while to take it all in then I wandered off to take a dip. It was pretty cool to jump[ in but it was cold too. Lucky the weather had improved.

At one point under the pools, the river is forced underground. In the rainy season, i.e. now, the water is a cauldron and anyone falling in, falls to their immediate death. I was apparently getting to near and I heard a whistle. Security showed me where to go and not to go. I met this young French student (Julian), studying ecology etc. here in Guatemala. He has no camera, so I obliged and took some fotos and promised to send them.

Later, our guide took us to the point where the river escapes its underground path. We had to climb down this rope ladder about 7 feet, with water pouring down after and on top of us. It was a bit dicey. Our guide did it by herself and tested the ladder, then helped all of us with the water lashing against her. Respect was well due. It was amazing to see the water surging out from underground. There was still a gap between the river and the cave ceiling. But there was a tree lodged at the top that had been deposited at a higher water level. . The river at times reaches the ceiling. Unreal. No photos as there was too much water. I should have got a disposable waterproof camera for these occasions... bummer.

I got so blue I was allowed up in the first batch. I seem to be feeling the cold really badly, more than anyone else.

Got back to El Retiro in time for dinner. Hung out on the Veranda with some ISrealis that were singing and playing guitar. It was really lovely and they were a lovely bunch. I had been swinging in the hammock and one of them sat to the side of me and was using his foot to swing me. I thougt he was just doing it for somethign to do with his feeet. But then I realised he was making a move. Oh bless. He was only 24. Nipped that in the bud.

Lazed around again and chatted to Julian. We met these Aussies and spent a few hours going down in the current of the river running alongside El Retiro. Cold but cool. Julioan and I walked to the bat cave around 5pm. It is a huge cave system but we only went a little in. We were there to see the bats (About a million of them) leave the cave at sunset. It was a bit scattered though as there were too many people using cameras with their flash, so it was confusing the bats. Security came to the rescue and then we took a few photos. There were a LOT of bats. Superb!

We went up to Lanquin village with some Aussies, who had found this great cheap taco place for dinner.

25September.
I took the long way, apparently the more scenic route to Nebaj from Lanquin.
I got on the bus about 8.30 in Lanquin but we circled the town looking for more customers for an hour. Finally I got to Coban, where I took the bus to Sacupulas and then to Nebaj. By the time I got to Nebaj, it was raining from the heavens. I got fairly wet. I tried to put my plastic cape over me and my bag but only succeeded in covering my front. I got a little moto taxi to take me to the hostel. He had no idea of where it was,, so rang the number from his mobile. You can tell you are not in a tourist town. I was charged such a cheap fare and not for the call. I gave a tip.

The hostel is cold as is everywhere in Nebaj. I am in the mountains. It is COLD here and very very wet. I have no closed shoes. I am freezing. Heating is not something that is an option here. The hostel is basic and I am the dorm of 10 beds alone. there is one other guest, I have not met.

I hung my clothes from various beds in the vain hope they might dry. I wandered into town to get food, then interneted for a short while and then to bed I think I read. It must have been 8pm. Oh my god how early is that.

26September.
Awake before dawn. At breakfast, some Mayan arrived to talk to the owner. One of them introduced himself as Victor. He belongs to a cooperative and wanted to show me it so I can tell others about it and maybe organise funding etc. OR I guess donate... He spoke Spanish. The owner had given 2 rabbits to Victor for his kids. So I carried them for him so I could pet them. They were so cute. I was taken to his home and met his wife and kids. He showed me the laptop that someone had given them. About 50 kids now have access to this computer for homework etc. They are trying to buy a mouse for it. He showed me a book and some letters, fotos from other westerners who were helping the cooperative. It is mostly a women's cooperative. Victor seems to be the spokes man. Many people here do not speak Spanish only their own mayan language.

I met the director and the secretary of the group as well. He showed me the fields they were working on. They plan cauliflower and many other vegetables as well as keep chickens. I took details and later asked the hostel owner about it. He seems to help the local community a lot and has been in Nebaj for 7 and in Guatemala for a total of 21. So was here during all the troubles. I think he has seen a lot.

Later, that evening, I went to the local cooperative cafe, set up by 2 peace corp volunteers. I met Adi and Anne, whom I had met in Flores and travelled with to Lanquin. They were here to learn Spanish. It was nice to see them.

27September.

I awoke before dawn. As seems to be normal now. At breakfast, I met the other guest. He introduced himself as Amenon. Amenon is here for a month. Volunteering with an agency working with identifying massacre victims and returning the identified bodies to the families. He explained that the agency and he as part of that, interviews the families of those that were massacred. This helps locate the bodies. Although very often, people don't remember exactly where the murders happened or the trauma has wiped their brains of details. It can take a series of interviews etc. After the bodies are located or an approximate area has been identified. He and his colleagues dig up the area, this often involves digging multiple places due to inaccurate information. Once located, the body is exhumed, and sent for a post-mortem and DNA investigations to Guatemala city. Once that is complete. The body is finally given back to the family for reburial in the traditional Mayan or Christian way.

He often attends the whole process. He said that in a few months time, they will have 50 bodies in the one month to locate etc. At the moment, he was working on a case where the grandmother, her daughter and granddaughter were all killed in their home over 10 years ago. It took three days to locate the bodies on this occasion and they were to be buried this week, finally. This must be very emotional but it provides closure for so many families. I think if my spanish was so much better this is something I would like to do.

During the war/unrest, in the 80s especially, the army and various private thugs working for landowners or large companies killed thousands. It is only in the recent years that anything has been done to try to identify bodies or locate missing persons etc. Albeit not with much help fromt eh government. Facilities were few and also people were afraid or traumatised or had run away to other towns or countries and have only now come back. I was amazed at what Amenon was doing. But he had been in the army so I guess, he was more prepared than many others would be.

We spoke about memory. Many of the interviews are inaccurate. My take on it is that on occasions when something is traumatic, like a crime etc. The memory can deteriorate rapidly. Which is why the police try to get a statement as soon as possible from witnesses/victims etc. From his experience, he thought that trauma would make the event even more clear and unforgettable. His theorised, that preseding psychology of the person would dictate the memory. Up to a point I agree but I think it all interplays . I explained about Sues bag being taken in Havana and how both of us struggled to remember exactly what clothes the boys wore, as the day wore on. I got the impression that he thought he would always remember no matter what and that it was a weakness in others if they didn't remember. I thought this was a very narrow view, even arrogant. But he was a bit up his own arse. We agreed to leave it, as it depends on the person and how traumatic.. That kind of ended the conversation.

It was market day. The town was really buzzing. Hundreds of local Mayan in traditional dress had arrived. I got waylaid by a local, asking the usual questions like where do you come from etc. Most locals, don't approach you, so I new something was coming. In this case, he took out a photocopy of a page from the rough guide or something indicating he was a brilliant local guide. After haggling, I was taken on a short tour of the town.

Casper, as he was called, brought me to the cemetery, there he showed me a monument and the grave of 1200 people who had been massacred. Most of the graves were small wooden/iron crosses. It is all many can afford. Some were larger tombs. It had been built in Jun 2008. I think they may have been bodies exhumed, identified and reburied. A short distance, we went to another cemetery. Here were 2 cement structures about the size of a medium to large bedroom. At the first hut, my guide opened the wooden door. It took me a few moments to realise what it was. The room was full of small crosses. There were some Mayan people praying, crying and offering gifts inside. Candles had been lit, as had incense. I realised it was a mass grave. I didn't go in or take a foto as suggested. An insensitive suggestion I think. This was private and should be left so. This apparently was a grave for adults. I was then shown the other room, a grave of many children. A cross for each child. There were a lot of crosses.

A 5 minute walk away, another memorial for another massacre. But here the bodies had not been identified or at least not all. Another hut housed the crosses for 300 children killed and buried here together.

The reality of war is much more raw here. There is a lot of mass burials. For some there will be no closure, no identified body, to place a candle or a flower beside. What is worse, is that some families don't know if their child or loved one escaped or was kidnapped. Some children were sent for adoption to other countries, the US especially. Some families will never find out. It must be a terrible thing to bear. Although it is hard to find out someone is dead, at least you know and have closure.

At the market, much was on the streets. I loved it. So many beautiful costumes. Many of the men especially the older ones wore their straw hats or cowboy hats. Before meeting Casper, I had seen 30 or so, mostly men queuing up round the block of some building. It was an amazing sight. So many straw hats. I was itching to take a foto but the amateur photographer is still fighting the idea of the tourist voyeur. I asked about it later and I was told it was most likely men who had fought on the side of the government. The government hired a lot of mayans to spy on their own people and they still receive some remittance. Not of course those who really suffered because of it.