Wheel of Time: How Nicaragua and Honduras aren't what they were.

Merry Christmas from Costa Rica! Sorry we haven't updated the blog in a few weeks. We have an excuse, we promise!

We last left you just across the border from Guatemala into Honduras. Country #6 of the Nomadizens adventure. We only had a few days to spend in Honduras, so we decided to head to Lago Yojoa in central Honduras. Our planned route took us near San Pedro Sula, the deadliest city in the world in 2011. We decided to ask some guys at the border about the road. Yes, it is a bit dangerous, but they still recommended that we take that road instead of the alternate route, which would leave us more isolated.

We drove into Coban Ruinas, the nearest town to the border, to stock up on cash, groceries, and gas. Again, our cash was not available for us to withdraw, so we exchanged the rest of our USD at a bank in town. We filled up the gas tank and decided we'd have to survive on leftovers until we got more cash in a couple of days. I like to triangulate on safety advice I get from locals, so I asked the gas pump attendant about the road to San Pedro Sula. Ohhh, it's very dangerous. It has lots of potholes and it will take you 7 hours! Hmm, our GPS said 4 hours, so hopefully this guy is exaggerating, otherwise we would be driving well after sunset. Other parts of enjoyment including trying to find a parking space at the bank, getting our stuff out for it, and then Bethany coming back two minutes later exasperated needing a copy of her passport. The town itself was pretty, but had some rough roads. We had a hunch Honduras would be the poorest country we'd visit in Central America and initially we felt vindicated.

The Honduran countryside is beautiful. Lots of lush, green, rolling mountains. We passed 6 or 7 police checkpoints along the highway and were pulled over at one of them. Ike had to show his driver's license, and we got vibes that the officer was going to ask for a bribe, but we pretended we didn't speak Spanish so he didn't bother asking. [Fun times; reminded me of being in Japan and basically being a trained monkey. 'No entiendo senor!' Goodbye! Adios! Si!' Lulz.] Traffic increased as we approached San Pedro Sula, but not once did we feel unsafe. (Granted, we never went into the city.) We turned south towards Finca El Paraiso (Paradise Estate) and were shocked at the high quality of the highway. It was like a well maintained US interstate! [The same couldn't be said of the vehicles on the highway though; a couple of times we saw chunks of metal getting thrown off the semi we were following. After the second one, we realized we needed to get out from behind the death-semi.] We enjoyed that while it lasted, but about 20 miles out from our destination we turned onto a secondary road with enough potholes to make up for the nice highway. We crept along and started noticing some new clunking noises coming from Sweetcakes. No bueno. We are starting to realize that Sweetcakes must prefer small town mechanics, because we always have to visit them when we are in the tiniest villages! [Our initial hope that it was just the shocks squeaking was quickly being shot to pieces as we now heard what sounded like metal on metal tinkling, which I had read online was truly indicative of bad ball joint. WOOOOF. We were also surprised by how caucasian the people of honduras were. There weren't too many people who were clearly indigenous, but all we could do was speculate as to why it was different here as opposed to the other countries.]

We limped along the road, eventually turning off onto an even rougher gravel road leading back to the Finca, and then an equally bumpy long driveway leading back onto the plantation. Hang in there, Sweetcakes! The Finca was beautiful and we were the only ones around. We set up our tent between the rushing stream and the pool. Not too shabby. [$10 USD gets us our own freshwater fed pool? I think we can handle that! But we were both blown away by the beauty of the campground and how affordable it was. Amazing!]

The next morning we gingerly drove Sweetcakes back out to the main road and headed 5 miles back to the nearest town with an ATM. Our money was now available to us (wahoo!), so the next obstacle to tackle was finding a mechanic in this tiny town. Who better to ask then one of the 3 shotgun wielding guards in front of the bank? He recommended a mechanic just a few blocks away.

We turned off the paved road and onto a different gravel road, into a typical residential neighborhood in rural Central America. Kids on bikes all over the place, dogs running around, homes made of tin roofs and cement blocks, and the gravel uneven and thin. One building had “mecanico” painted on the side of the building, but we didn't see any evidence of the mechanic, so I hopped out and asked a couple of teenage girls where the mechanic was. They pointed us down the road another half block. Sweetcakes crept along the road and we saw a shop with a dozen vehicles parked out front. Must be the mechanic!

We pulled in and I hopped out to try to explain our vehicle problem to the mechanic [Named Ochoa; he introduced himself to us and had the same name as the one the security guard had given us. Great smile and a nice guy!]. Eventually one of the 4 guys working there noticed us and came over to chat. Actually, they probably all noticed us pull in but then were holding out on who had to deal with the gringos. I explained that we were hearing some strange noises when we drove on bumpy roads. He asked if it was the brakes; nope. Next he bent down near our front wheels and grabbed onto something and rattled it. “This shouldn't move,” he explained. Ike had done some research the night before and was worried it might be our ball bearings. He looked at the other side and found a loose washer above our shocks, so that explained the metal clinking noise. I asked if it was a big problem and he said nope! Hooray! [seriously, the amount of relief I felt at this moment was tremendous] He said he could fix it and that in fact, they sold the parts we needed in town. The mechanic's teenage son crawled under Sweetcakes and started wrenching on the nut to remove the clinky washer above our spring, then took apart something with our stabilization bar and saw that the rubber piece that held it in place was pretty well shredded. Now we knew exactly what parts we needed, so we headed off with the mechanic's 9 year old son, Dennis, to the parts store a couple of blocks away.

I tried to make small talk with him, but 9-year-old Dennis was clearly not thrilled about being seen walking through town with a couple of gringos. A few minutes and $10 later, we had the parts we needed in hand and headed back to the shop. The teenage son spent the next 45 minutes yanking around under the car and then voila, we were fixed! We handed over $10 for the labor and were on our merry way, incredulous about how cheap and easy the fix was. We had a couple of low-key days hanging around the cool, beautiful coffee plantation. One night we wandered over to D&D Brewery for some delicioso German-brewed cerveza.

That evening, after having the car fixed up, we sat in front of the computer watching the Simpsons with the quiet roar of the river rushing over rocks behind us. The roadway back to the campsites was spaced every few hundred feet with a streetlamp and as we were settled in after dinner watching TV we saw a dog come running up the roadway towards us, it's owners a little ways behind it but obscured by the shadows. The dog came up and was quite friendly with us, Bethany and I making sure it seemed nice and saying hello to it. We waited for the owners to come up to it, and as they arrived, it was only upon hearing them speak that two and two fell into place and we realized it was Laika licking our hands and Nikki and Jakob walking up!

I mentioned it briefly in a previous post, but there is little more enjoyable while overlanding than being surprised by friends you've met before spontaneously showing up at your campsite. :)

Having seen one of our posts on facebook, they'd walked on over from the German Brewery a kilometer down the road to say high. They were taking off for Nicaragua the following day, but had wanted to swing by and say 'hi' before they left.

Tearfully saying goodbye to the best rum on the planet.  We then found the Flor de Cana rum in Nicaragua. The other best rum on the planet.

The following day we did some hiking around the coffee plantation, the biggest surprises being the density of the mosquitoes present [ungodly; ughhhh] and the ability for the coffee farmers to plant the plants on such steep inclines. Bethany and I were both shocked at how the rows of coffee plants went along unimpeded by the steepness of the hillsides they were planted on. We had a difficult enough time just getting up and down the hiking trails unimpeded; doing it with a basket to collect coffee beans seemed rediculous. Nevertheless, the trails provided us with nice views of the surrounding countryside as well as a couple fleeting glimpses of the large lake we were camping next to.

And just like that, our time in Honduras had come to an end. We had a big day ahead of us: a long drive across the second half of Honduras, then the border crossing into Nicaragua. Another border crossing. By this point it was seriously hard to remember which country we were exiting and which we were entering. And by now we've forgotten the specifics of this border crossing, sorry to any fellow overlanders reading this for informacion. [All we truly remember is that we crossed on a Sunday hoping for it to be less busy, but it still took us 3 hours to get across the border. The Nicaragua side was supposed to be the more difficult side but the touts were only on the Honduras side too.]

Our first night in Nicaragua was spent camping outside a nice little hotel not too far from the border. They had internet and only charged us $4 to stay there. I think I like this place! The next day we intended to head to Volcan Masaya, but the park was closed for the religious holiday (we had no idea...), so we headed over to nearby Laguna de Apoyo instead. We set up camp outside a hostel and met fellow overlanders Colin and Aurelie from France. The hostel was a bit pricey ($10/person/night), but it was a gorgeous location with great amenities and delicious food from the restaurant. We ended up staying a second night. [As we had pulled in, I noticed the bright blue Dodge Ram with the camper in in, and remembered someone [who it was, no idea] who had asked us if we had seen their vehicle before, but we hadn't. Either way, we were excited to meet more overlanders, and Colin and Aurelie were amazing! They'd flown to Quebec from France to start their trip, they'd crossed to the US at Detroit [lulz x 1000] and were both kind and friendly. It was nice having them parked next to us inside the resort hostel. We also enjoyed seeing the huge number of tourists that were visiting this area, the overwhelming majority of them college-aged students. It was a bit different for Bethany and I to be the 'oldies' [Less enjoyable was that evening when I was woken up in the middle of the night by one of the couples getting amorous with each other.] Our vehicle was parked up on a plateau near the top of the hill the resort occupied leading down to the lake, and near the vehicle was a large concrete bowl. Our second day there, a couple from New York City had inquired about the supposed 'hot tub' the hostel said it offered, and was told this concrete bowl, with two attached metal pipes that spiraled around at a foot diameter or so. Turns out they light a fire between the coil pipes, and the heating of the water pumps the warm water out the top of the pipe as it warms up, and draws cold water in the lower pipe. An ingenious setup, but despite running the fire for an hour, the water wasn't above lukewarm when the NYC couple left.]

Sunset over Laguna de Apoyo

We signed up for the night tour at Volcan Masaya with Colin & Aurelie for the following evening. We made a brief stop at a grocery store between the lake and the volcano and came back to Sweetcakes to find our laptop missing. No bueno. We thought perhaps in our haste to pack up camp we left the computer there, so we hopped back on the road back to the lake. Midway there we noticed the phone was also missing, and we had used the phone on the way to the grocery store. Ughhhh, someone must have broken into our car at the grocery store. We circle back to the grocery store thinking perhaps we can talk to the security guard in the parking lot. But then we figure, what is he going to say? Probably that he didn't see anything, and that they have a sign posted in the parking lot saying to take all valuable items into the store with you. At this point we need to head to the volcano or else we will miss our night tour, so we head out, both still a bit dumbfounded at how they got in the car since we had locked it.

We register at the base of the volcano, then drive up to the parking lot where the tour starts. I went back to the car to grab something and noticed that my key didn't work in my door. That's strange. Then it hit us: they must have stuck something in the lock in my door and forced it open. Instead of dwelling on the theft, we realized it could have been a lot worse (broken window or they could have stolen a lot more) and decided to make the most of our volcano tour. We met up with Colin & Aurelie and a few other travelers in our tour group. [including the couple who'd tried to use the hot tub]

Peering over the edge of the crater, we watched as the sun set behind the cloud of gas spewing out of the volcano. Our guide pointed out holes in the side of the crater where a species of bird has adapted to breathing the normally toxic gases and now lives happily in the crater. [Our guide took us around the back of the main entrace to get a better view, and Bethany and I were happy we'd brought our hankerchiefs to help block the gases in the air. We couldn't help but cough, even though the air wasn't that cloudy. Moving back to the main parking lot, we hopped in Sweetcakes and followed the caravan of other vehicles up the hill towards the next hiking spot. From where we parked, we made our way up the steep hill towards the top and the viewpoint it included. The sun had set and nightime decended on us as we crested the peak, and we enjoyed the view of the surrounding cities of Masaya [where we'd been staying, as well as Managua. All of the cities are located in the valleys beneath the chain of volcanoes. Our guide informed us that they'd seen earthquakes, eruptions, lava and damage over the last few decades. Following the view from the top, we made our way to another stop, and this time descended down underground, to lava tunnels formed during the previous eruption. The bats were plentiful, and often became flying tunnels as tour groups approached from opposite directions, giving them little recourse but to fly upwards.]

 Masaya in the background.  Somewhere in those lights is our computer and cell phone. 

The tour eventually took us to the Gates of Hell, so named by a Spanish priest who saw the glowing orange light on the rocks from the lava in 1529. Our guide asked us to turn off our headlamps and step up on a little platform and look out over it. Far, far below, we could see light flickering orange light. Much of it was obscured by the gases in the air, and we took turns looking over and then ducking back to cough. Curious, I turned on my headlamp and noticed that turning off the headlamps to see the lava was only half the story. The platform we were on was built out over the cliff side. It was just a couple of two-by-fours slapped together with light handrails on it. I suddenly didn't feel as confident with all five of us standing on it.

Back at the entrance to the museum, Colin, Aurelie, Bethany and I set up our campsites and began making dinner. Colin busted out a grill and began marinating the chicken while we made fried rice. An eclectic meal, yes, but still fantastic.

Colin and Auriele

Later that evening, we took a walk around the museum and looked out over the valley, the lights from the cities of Managua and Masaya sparkling in the night below, with the stars overhead.

A bit later, I made my way over towards the museum to see if they'd left the door to the restroom unlocked or not. As we've mentioned before, walking around central america at night with headlamps on is interesting because you frequently see glittering lights on the ground that looks like water droplets reflecting the light, except instead of water droplets, it's the eyes of spiders. I noticed some more on the walk, and walked over to see if the spider was particularly big. Leaning in when the light hit it, I noticed it wasn't too huge, only [ugh, ONLY] the size of a half dollar. As I was doing this though, I startled a lizard that was down near my feet. As it scrambled away from me and up along the curbside I was standing next too, my brain realized that it was not, in fact a lizard. The size of it had just made my brain think that, and instead the neurons firing made the connection that there were not four legs, there were eight. I was instantly reduced to a gibbering mess, expletives flowing in a flood. It wasn't a tarantula either, but just a monsterously sized version of the wolf spiders I'd been looking at, and it was as big as my splayed hand. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. It was a miracle I was able to sleep at all that evening.

The following day we made our way down into Granada, a colonial city popular with tourists who want to see the architecture.  Before we got there though, we stopped by the police station in Masaya to file a report of our stuff being stolen.  I sat in the car to make sure we didn't get burgled a second time while Bethany went in and the cops went through the motions of caring about our stuff.  They took a picture of the lock on the door, made Bethany repeat her paragraph-long statement about what happened a million times as they kept transcribing it on different papers, and generally just wasted our time.  The kicker was when they kept telling us to come back tomorrow [sorry, not an option] and then said, "Well, just call us in a week and we'll update you....oh right you don't have a cell phone anymore." We wrote it off as a loss and continued on to Granada.  We made it our base for the day so we could begin rapidly ordering things off of Amazon to ship to my mom who was visiting us the following week in Costa Rica.

Nothing like a farmers market of fireworks

Parking ourselves at the local Red Cross, we made our way into town and found a internet cafe and began the process of re-draining our bank account. Following the spending spree on Christmas presents for ourselves, we walked through town to find a local restaurant that wasn't filled with gringos [fried chicken for $4 a plate, with more sides then we could eat? Bingo!] and then walked to the laundromat to get our clothes cleaned up. Back at the red cross, we had our clothes hung up to dry on the line when a gringo couple on a dirt bike came up to us and asked if we were living at the red cross. Brad and his wife had been living in central America for a few years already, but recently came to Nicaragua from El Salvador. Brad told us he was getting a psych exam as part of the requirements for receiving his Nicaraguan license. “The woman administering it was getting frustrated by my lack of Spanish and eventually started filling in the answers for me.” Brad said with a sheepish smile.

Taking a walk down to the lake later that afternoon, we enjoyed the breeze coming in off the water and the cobblestone streets. We returned to see Colin and Aurelie writing a note on our vehicle. The informed us they had found another French couple [doing the trip by bike! Bravo!] and were grabbing pizza with them later. The graciously invited us to join them, and we had incredible pizza. In typical American fashion, we made them all speak English.

Driving down to Playa Maderas from Granada, we again enjoyed the nice roads, happy to made good time. And then we got to the turnoff for the beach. The 10km out to the coast served as deterrent to any suckers who thought it'd be easy. Most people out there were college students who rode out in the surf tour vehicles. We got to practice 4x4 some more heading up and down some gnarly roads, eventually arriving at the beach. We agreed to pay the $6/day to camp 100 ft from the beach and waded our way out into the water.

Surfers and sunset 

 This dude was just rooting around our campsite

“I mean, I'm sure it's a blast when you're good at it, but all these guys are doing is standing up and falling down.” Bethany quipped while watching all the beginning surfers attempt to ride the waves. Playa Maderas was filled with newbie surfers giving it a shot, to their own pain and our hilarity.

Eating our breakfast in the common room the following morning, we struck up a conversation with Justin and Melissa, a couple from Regina, Saskatchewan. “We're originally from Iowa, south of Iowa City.” we told them. “Oh, is that like, near the Quad Cities?” Justin asked. Turns out he's starting chiropractic school at Palmer this March. Looking forward to catching up this fall when we're all in the midwest!

Justin and Melissa

Roast we made in an hour using the pressure cooker. BOOM! #overlandingluxury

Bethany and I spent the following couple of days acclimating ourselves to beach life and preparing ourselves for the beach time we'd be spending with Pete and mom.

Heading down towards the border, we reviewed the crossing steps to get into Costa Rica, as we'd heard it was a decent ordeal. Indeed, it was. First, we pulled into the border area, found a man in the blue shirt, and had him double-check our import visa information against the car. We then drove over to the customs area, and after looking around the milling people, found the place to receive our exit stamps. We each payed the $1 [and got the receipt!] to stand in line and get the stamp. Then we made our way over to cancel our import visa, standing in line and striking up a conversation with Colin, a Canadian who was driving his motorcycle down to Panama. While waiting in line, we asked the police-man if he would inspect our vehicle and sign off on our cancellation as part of the process. “Nope.” He said, we had to ask someone else, after we had our cancellation completed. 30 minutes later, we had the visa cancelled but the cop had disappeared. Asking around, we finally found someone who could stamp our form, who then sent us to another room where a bored looking police-woman then signed our form and told us, “Todo bien.” in a monotone as she picked her smartphone back up and began loading facebook.

Making our way over to the Costa Rican side, we took a diversion as the road split, driving through the fumigation station that coated Sweetcakes in poison. As we exited, the person who was supposed to be collecting the payment for the fumigation was nowhere to be found, so we rolled on ahead following the semi. Lacking signage, we then picked a direction and tried to find where things got busy again. Eventually, we found a place to park and made our way into the customs building. As we filled out our forms, a gringo next to us asked if we had to pay to get this stamp. “Nope, this one is free” we replied. “Thank goodness. I just paid $100 to get out of Nicaragua.” Uhhhh, WTF dude. Tourist fail. With our stamps, we then spent 10 minutes driving around asking people where the mandatory insurance we had to purchase was. The truckers helped us track it down, but then we ended up in a parking lot filled with semi's and they told us to double back. Finally we found the place, and hopped in line with several over gringos. Colin we saw again, as well as another young man on a motorcycle who had started out at Playa Maderas with us that morning. We also met two guys from Quebec who were driving to Costa Rica to build a house. Neighbors in Quebec, they were going to be neighbors in Costa Rica as well. Except no one had told them the customs office was closed on Sundays, and had spent the previous day drinking in the shade and sleeping in the truck. We also bumped into Danny, who we'd initially met back at Zipolite in Oaxaca, Mexico. We spent the next hour and a half in line talking shop with the other overlanders, and were then told we had to head back to where we started to get some of the paperwork completed. Getting over to where we started, the man behind the counter told us we needed additional copies made, and that could be done at the bus ticket office next door. The woman there couldn't care less about us bothering her, but finally we had our copies made and the man reviewing them. Signatures and stamps completed, we moseyed on back to the building we had just been at, standing inside and staring at the six employees who dutifully tried to ignore us. 20 minutes of standing there later, we finally had the forms completed, and we could make our way out of the border. Only 3 hours! But we were 24 hours from meeting my family and 11 days on the beach!

Overall, we were surprised how our preconceived notions of what Honduras and Nicaragua would be like were nothing like the reality.  Given the instability they'd experienced and we associated with them, we were expecting them to be some of the roughest countries we would visit.  But as we move further and further away from the time of the civil wars, the countries demonstrated how they can rise from the ashes.  Infrastructure was in place [namely for us, roads], markets and modernity abounded [noted as we drove past a huge wind farm in Nicaragua] and in general we just loved how open, fun, and cheap the countries were. 

Quick budget recap, since we lost our detailed expense-tracking spreadsheet when our computer was stolen:

Honduras:

We averaged $78/day during our brief stay in Honduras. But, we entered the country with an empty gas tank, which has a big impact on our budget for such a brief stay. Besides gas, we were right on target.

Nicaragua:

We averaged $56/day during our 8 days in the country, but there were probably a few expenses that we forgot about once our computer was stolen. So I'm guessing in reality we were close to our $65/day budget. 

New content up on Nomadizens webite

You have been to our website, right? If not, what are you waiting for? We've added gear reviews, and recipe are coming soon.

Guatemala: catching our breath on a volcano

I had just looked at the clock: noon. “So, I guess we won't be crossing into Guatemala today?” I said to Ike. We were still waiting to hear from our mechanic who was fixing Sweetcakes' rear swingout. Ten minutes later we received a facebook message from them. The car was done and they would drop it by our campground after their lunch break. Ok, let's do this! We kicked it into high gear, tearing down our tent and campsite, hopping through the shower, and quickly reviewing our notes on the border crossing. We pulled out of San Ignacio around 1:30 and were at the border with Guatemala 20 minutes later.

A few young boys came up to the car as we parked it at the Belize border. “Do you speak Spanish?” “Yes”, I told them, “and I understand the process for crossing the border, so I don't need your help. Thanks.” We paid our exit fee, had our passports stamped, next up was canceling the vehicle import permit. “Just go out the door, around the corner, and into the next building,” we were told by the border workers. Ok, easy enough. We walked outside and the next building had “Do not enter. Entry to Belize.” Hmmm, that must not be the right building. We poked around but didn't see any others, so we went back inside and asked a couple of other employees. “Yeah, it's that building.” “But it says 'Do not enter.'” “Just ignore it, that's where you need to go.” Ahhh, Central America! :)

Now officially out of Belize, we had our car fumigated, then had to park it to take care of the Guatemalan paperwork. Tourist visas stamped into the passport (for a $5 unofficial fee): Check. Next up, wait in line for a half hour to get the vehicle import permit. Keep in mind that it is the middle of the afternoon, peak heat, and it is HOT! Mid-90s and humid. We finally get up to the counter and the very friendly, helpful border agent (a rare species) asked for Ike's drivers license. Oops, that was in the car. Back out into the sun, Ike goes to fetch the license and is told he has to move his car “a little.” So he backs it up 10 feet. “Nope, not good enough, you have to move it more,” said the man brandishing a shotgun. Meanwhile I'm standing at the counter watching all this happen, hoping that Ike is able to fend for himself without me translating. And he did, like a pro. All of our documents in order, we had to go to the bank window to pay for the permit. We didn't have any Quetzales (Guatemalan currency) yet, so made a deal with a money exchanger in the lobby. (Note for other travelers: we found the exchange rate better on the Guatemalan side of the border. We had been quoted 3.3Q for 1 BZE on the Belize side, but 7.3Q to $1USD on the Guatemalan side.) Vehicle permit sticker: check. We drove through the barricade and were waved over by another border agent. We handed him our paperwork, he took a few minutes to review it, then waved us on our way. New country: check!

Par for the course...

There is a bridge leading from the border crossing zone into the border town. As we drive across it a woman comes out of the toll booth and lowers the arm. I had read online that they make tourists pay something here and that it was likely an unofficial toll. She asked for 50Q and we said we didn't have the cash. She wasn't buying it. We tried to pawn off our Mexican pesos on her, but she wouldn't accept coins. We finally paid partially in Quetzales and partially with Belizean dollars. We needed to find an ATM, grocery store, and gas station before heading up to Tikal for a couple of days. The border town looked a bit sketchy and I hadn't been able to find information online about services. We hastily decided that we'd drive on into Flores before heading up to Tikal. It was 3:30. We saw a pig cross the road; welcome to Guatemala!

what did I just say?

“So how far is Flores past the turnoff to Tikal?” Ike asked once we were a ways down the road. We didn't realize that it was nearly 20 miles past the turnoff, and we were getting worried about daylight. The golden rule of overlanding is don't drive after dark. I pulled up the map on our phones and zoomed in to Flores to see if I could find the services we needed. Turns out there is a huge shopping mall complex on the edge of Flores, perfecto! We pulled in, all business. Let's take care of these errands so we can get our butts up to Tikal before it's pitch black. [It's really weird driving through abject poverty, then round a corner and see a huge mall with a Pizza Hut...]

First up was pulling money from the ATM. Perhaps this is the time to explain how we access our money on this trip. We set up a checking account with Charles Schwab specifically for this trip. They reimburse all ATM fees, including international ones, so it really pays off when you are traveling abroad. For example, we just received this month's ATM fee reimbursement for $23. We keep a small amount of money in this account, so that in case it is hacked, we don't lose much money. (Plus they have 100% fraud protection, but still an extra precaution.) Our normal checking account is linked to the CS account and we transfer money over as needed. Due to some boring details I won't get into here, we didn't have any funds available. No bueno! We went back to the car and grabbed our ATM card for our real life checking account from the safe box. It didn't work either. Thanks a lot, US Bank, for not being there when I need you, even though I informed you about this trip! Time for Plan C: pull some of our US cash stash and do an old-school money exchange at the bank. We needed our passports to get past the armed security guard, and I had just grabbed the $100 USD in cash that the mechanic in Belize gave us in exchange for our torn up rear bumper. Waiting in line at the bank, I realized this probably wouldn't be enough cash for groceries, gas, and camping/entrance fees at Tikal. I sent Ike back out to the car to grab some more cash from the lock box. He returns with the cash just in time, I had already been with the bank attendant for a couple of minutes. By this time it's pushing 5pm and the sun is setting. After what feels like an eternity, but is probably only 5 more minutes, she finishes talking with her boss and prints out a receipt for me to take to another counter to exchange the money. He carefully inspects each bill, setting aside one that had a small tear in the corner, and then he took that one over to some other boss to talk it over. Oh, COME ON! Ike and I are both starting to sweat now. [I actually kept my cool by watching a prank show on the TV they had mounted for people stuck in line. Hi-larious] Finally he gives me the cash, I quickly count it, and we practically run out of the bank and over to the grocery store. We grab a few things for dinner, waste 5 minutes looking for the eggs (which we don't find), hand over some cash (our brains still hadn't adjusted to the new exchange rate of 7.5Q=$1), and throw our groceries in the car. We decide with a half tank of gas we can easily make it to Tikal and back out to Flores before filling up, so we leave that for manana (tomorrow).

Ike drives aggressively as the sun sets and we both get a little nervous. We know that the road between Flores and Tikal sometimes has safety incidents, having heard stories of tourist buses being pulled over by robbers after dark. It's not pitch black yet, but it's getting there. Everyone that lives in the small villages we pass appears to be out for the evening, kicking around a soccer ball or gnawing on a roasted ear of corn right along the side of the highway. About 10 minutes after it's dark we pull up to the gate of Tikal National Park. We had intended to camp at the gate, but turns out the campground is within the national park, outside the gate of the ruins. Doh! It's 6:03 and the park closed at 6....

The Mayans called this a 'World Tree' because it grew so large and the roots and branches covered so much space.

“Do you have reservations?” the gate employees asked. There are 3 hotels within the park itself. I informed them that we intended to camp. “Hmm, camping...” he thought it over for a minute, then decided he would generously let us into the park for the night. We purchased our entrance passes, which were good for the next day, they wrote down some info about our car, and we were on our merry way. We slowed down and let out a sigh of relief. There wouldn't be any robbers hanging out on the road within the park. Another 20 minutes down the road and we pulled up to the hotel/restaurant area outside of the ruins. We found the Jaguar Inn and set up our tent in the lawn. To top off our hectic afternoon/evening, a large thunderstorm was approaching. We were racing the lightning all the way from Flores to Tikal. We quickly set up the tent, then decided to treat ourselves to dinner in the hotel restaurant instead of cooking out in the rain. The rain didn't turn up until we went to bed, but you have to indulge sometimes.

Coatis - these little dudes were wandering around the park.

The next morning we woke up around 6:15 and were in the park soon after. We heard it was best to explore the ruins first thing in the morning, before the tour buses from Flores and San Ignacio arrive. Tikal is much larger than the other ruins sites we have explored in Mexico and Belize. Many of the palaces and temples are separated by large areas of jungle. There are also many different ways one could go about exploring the ruins, instead of having a main “circuit” like many other ruins sites have. The effect is that you feel as if you are some of the only ones in the ruins. Most of the time we were either by ourselves or there was another group of 2-4 people in sight. We chose to explore the ruins in a counterclockwise fashion, hitting up some of the pyramids around the edge, then finishing with the grand plaza. Many of the pyramids were much taller and steeper than others we had seen, and much of the site remains unexcavated. [Tikal was the Mayan 'capital' (as much as a group of city-states can have a capital)]

So....what IS allowed?

These are the palms used for Palm Sunday by churches all over the world.  They last for up to 6 months after harvest.

Oh. Ok.

Sense of scale...

That giant mound is an anthill.  Sweet, merciful, mother of god.

Young Mayan World Trees have thorns on them. Because, you know, everything here can hurt.

We were done exploring the ruins by 10:30, and were met with hordes of tour groups as we exited the ruins. Glad we didn't have to deal with that all morning! We spent the afternoon doing research online and watching spider monkeys crawl through the tree tops above our heads. Thankfully a cold front had passed through the area overnight. We enjoyed the 75 degree day after a week of 90 degree weather in Belize, and we even slept under our sleeping bags that night!

Not just urban legends!

That evening we returned to the ruins, walking back to Temple IV, the tallest pyramid in the complex, for one last view of the park before it was dark. As we walked through the jungle we heard the birds and animals becoming more active for the evening. Approaching the pyramid, we started to hear human voices. Temple IV was hopping! We climbed up the wooden staircase to get to the top platform and there was a handful of armed soldiers up there, along with a dozen unarmed soldiers. We sat down on the stairs and soon realized that all these soldiers must be guards for 2 Guatemalan officers that were there with their families. The two officers had very good English and were speaking with a couple of middle aged guys from Turkey. You never know what you're going to find here. The frogs serenaded us on our walk back to the campsite.

Crawling into our tent for the night, we noticed that somehow it had become overrun with ants! They must have been able to crawl through the mesh part, and were now marching along the edges inside our tent. On the list of things you don't want to see right before going to bed, that has to be in the top 10. We quickly pulled all our bedding out of the tent and set about killing the ants with wads of TP. Ike wiped the tent down with soapy water, and we prayed that would be enough to keep them out of it for the night. The ants here are tiny, but they are biters! Ike had (purposefully?) destroyed an ant hill near our car earlier in the day, and they angrily swarmed around... eventually finding my feet. I'm assuming these same ants had decided to make our tent their new home. Even though the ants were out of our tent, they still made their way into our dreams that night. Thanks, Ike!  [When we first laid down and noticed them, Bethany's initial idea was to ignore them and hope they wouldn't bite us.  She seriously wanted to just leave them alone.  And there were hundreds of them in there. Mmmm hmm, and I'm the crazy one.  Also, the soapy water was to clear our the pheremone trails ants use to figure out where to go.]

That morning we woke up to howler monkeys in the jungle nearby, packed up the tent, and were on our way. We stopped by Flores to buy more groceries, fill up with gas, and purchase insurance for our car. Auto insurance is optional in Guatemala, and we weren't planning to get it, but given our recent accident with the 14-year-old in Belize, we thought it was worth the $30.
We had a fairly long drive south that day to reach Coban, our stopping point for the night, which included a surprise ferry crossing in Sayaxche. [The ferry included a lot of waiting in line, with some stupid drivers pulling off on the left-hand side, alternately blocking the traffic coming off and trying to cut the line to get on the ferry.  We actually just missed one ferry-load because some jerk cut us off.  I was getting pretty close to escalating before I realized I was close to starting an altercation with a pickup full of guys in the middle of Guatemala. Isn't that how Discovery Channel 'LOCKED UP ABROAD' shows always start out?]

BOOO! HISSSSSSSS

We planned to camp in Parque Nacional Victoria, which was within the city. We followed our GPS to the coordinates, but saw no evidence of a park. I hopped out and asked a few guys standing around a mechanic's shop, and was relieved to hear that the park entrance was just down the hill. We rolled down the hill and saw a steep driveway to the right... maybe that's the park entrance? Ike popped Sweetcakes into 4WD and we rolled down the road/driveway. Nope, definitely not the park. There wasn't any room to turn around, so Ike had to reverse back up the very steep and narrow driveway. Thankfully Sweetcakes made it back to the top. We continue on down the road another block, then see a sign for the park. Third time's a charm! Turns out the GPS coordinates we used were for the actual camping area, which was a ways back into the park, so our GPS had no idea how to get us there. After an unnecessarily long check-in process, we drove Sweetcakes back to the camping area, which was really just a parking lot outside of an administration building inside the park. The parking lot was full, but we soon figured out all the cars were for the office workers. We were the only ones camping there that night. We had hoped to bump into some other overlanders since it was Thanksgiving, but no dice. We were shocked how cold it was when we stepped out of the car in our shorts and tshirts. We were up in the mountains, and the cold front had brought with it a slow drizzle. We pulled on sweatshirts and set about to making our Thanksgiving dinner, crouching under the shelter of the back door as we cooked dinner. Pan roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, peas, and rice pudding. Not bad for life on the road after driving all day! We both scarfed down the food and went back for seconds, in typical Thanksgiving fashion.

Just like the pilgrims, with just the clothes on our back! 

The next morning we were back on the road. We had two options for our destination that day: the first was to follow the main highway south to Antigua, a city just outside of Guatemala City; the second was to follow a secondary road to Lake Atitlan, likely taking us through some rural mountain villages. We opted for the second, and soon found ourselves at the edge of the pavement on a very washed out bumpy gravel road, evidence of fresh mudslides every so often. We soldiered on down the road for about 5 kilometers, then came to a stop. A dozen vans and trucks were waiting along the side of the road, so I hopped out to see what was going on. A backhoe was working on a stretch of the road, I assume clearing a fresh mudslide, and was done soon after we got there. While I had been scoping out the situation on the road, Ike was scoping out the map, and didn't like what he saw. We could only assume the road conditions would stay the same, in which case we would definitely not make it to Lake Atitlan that night. Our car had developed several new squeaky noises on the rough road, so we decided to throw in the towel and head back towards the paved highway. Later we found out that road is referred to as the “Road to Hell,” but that in fact the road conditions improved. Oh well, next time! [By and large we like or Reise 'Know-How' maps we splurged on, but this story is a perfect example of one of the main issues we have with it.  The maps use bold red for expressways, red for primary roads, yellow for secondary, and gray for 'other' roads.  The road to hell was marked in yellow, but so was a large chunk of the road up to Tikal, which was pristine pavement most of the way. It can make planning difficult, especially when Bethany is trying to triangulate between the physical maps, the GPS's open source maps, and the open source MAPS.ME program we have on our phones.]

"The Previous government left Guatemala with: More Insecurity.  Enough already! It's time for a change!"  These were part of a series of political billboards highlighting things wrong with the previous government.

Back on the highway we made good time. The main highway is in very good condition, and Guatemalans don't seem to have a love affair with speedbumps like the Mexicans do. (Although we quickly learned the new term for speedbumps here: tumulos.) We wound through the beautiful hills of the Guatemalan country side, stopping at Los Leones, a cute restaurant, for a scrumptious lunch. Traffic was pretty terrible coming through Guatemala City and we tacked on at least an hour to our ETA. But eventually we found ourselves bumping along the cobblestone roads of Antigua Guatemala.

In line with everyone else

The entire town of Antigua is a UNESCO world heritage site, which means the city is largely preserved in it's colonial state, with brightly painted stucco buildings and rough cobblestone roads. That, in combination with the volcanoes surrounding the town, makes for a very picturesque city, but I'm sure it is difficult for the residents, being unable to modernize the city's infrastructure.

We eventually found our way to the Tourist Police complex, where they allow tourists to camp for free! You can't complain about that price. We pulled in and found Nikki playing with Laika, from SprinterVan Diaries, but no Sprinter Van... The van was in Guatemala City to have a window replaced. Their window was broken the night before and they had been burgled while out hiking a volcano. Major bummer, but it was great to see a familiar face. We waited with Nikki for Jakob to return, then feasted on fajitas, rum drinks, and leftover rice pudding.

The next day was beautiful weather: sunny and mid-70s, which is a real treat after the hot and humid weather we had in Belize. We strolled around the city, checking out the bustling Saturday market, the beautiful colonial churches, and eventually finding a traditional textiles market where I had a very hard time not spending all our money! That night we had made plans for an overlanding feast of hamburgers, french fries, and beer. Nikki made ginormous American-sized cheeseburgers, Ike made a mountain of french fries, and Tim & Chris (heading south in a Land Cruiser) brought the 6 litros of beer. A good time was had by all as we feasted and swapped tales from the road. We were joined by our Swiss neighbors, Heidi & Andy, traveling north in a customized Land Cruiser, and J.F., a man escaping the Montreal winter by backpacking around Mexico and Guatemala. Heidi & Andy were an inspiration to all of us – they have been traveling together throughout the last 40 years, backpacking through India in the 70's, China in the 80's, and now making the drive from Argentina to Alaska. It was a real pleasure to meet them and they definitely left us thinking with how we could make travel a centerpiece of our lifestyle moving forward. [They also left everyone thinking on how we could all get customized Toyota LandCruisers, and how best to circumvent the awful US car import laws.]

If anyone is wondering what to get us for Christmas....

This church is older than Shakespeare

Guess I can see why tourists come here.

The buses here are amazing

The next morning we hiked up to Cerro de la Cruz, a mirador providing a beautiful view of the city. We watched as a nearby volcano puffed out smoke every so often.

Then it was time to set out for Lake Atitlan, a quick 2.5 hour drive from Antigua. We set out along a very nicely paved 4-lane road and got our first glimpses of the lake, which sits at 1500 meters and is surrounded by a ring of volcanoes. To arrive at San Pedro La Laguna, our destination on the lake, we turned off the main road and soon started climbing up a steep road. Not long later and we were plummeting down towards the lake. We were up at the top of the mountains and had a steep decent to the town nestled along the lake shore. I started to get nervous about our brakes and several times confirmed with Ike that they were still working. All of a sudden Ike engages the e-brake and calmly turns to me and says “We have no brakes.” This actually happened at a convenient time. We had just passed a relatively flat section of road that had a few homes and shops along the side, and we saw a sign warning us of the steep decline up ahead. Ike popped it into reverse and I guided him back along the road where we could wait for our brake to cool. A family of what seemed like 15 people came out into their yard and I explained to them that our brakes weren't working and we needed to let them cool down. They immediately offered that we pull into their front yard/parking spot so Sweetcakes would be completely off the road. We continue to be amazed at the kindness of strangers. Ike and I let Sweetcakes rest for about a half hour, then the brakes seemed to be back.  [The real issue here was that there was lots of long inclines and declines along straight roads, allowing us to build up quite a bit of speed before needing to brake around a turn.  Hopefully it will be the last time we run into this, as we picked up some tips later on dealing with these kinds of areas]

Just taking a breather...

Ike knew that to make it the rest of the way down the mountain he would have to engine brake, but we weren't entirely sure of the proper way to do it. Lacking internet, I figured that I'd put it in 4Hi for some added traction [to slow us down; but not 4Lo, because I didn't wanna drive 5mph the entire way] and put it in low gear, but keeping it at 2k RPM's or lower.  This worked pretty well for us, keeping us around 20 mph for the duration of the decent down towards San Pedro.  Have since learned that 4Lo with OD disengaged would have been easier on the transmission. 

After countless switchbacks, we made it into San Pedro La Laguna. Our next mission was navigating the one-way streets to find the cafe where we planned to camp. I'd say we had a pretty high success rate: we only went the wrong way down one street. We pulled into the cafe and didn't see our friends from SprinterVan, but we did see a gazillion gringos chilling at the cafe/pool. Turns out there is a BBQ there every Sunday afternoon and it is quite popular. Thankfully Heather & Dan stopped by to tell us what was going on, and that once the BBQ was over the cafe would be quite empty.

We set up camp and headed into “Gringolandia,” a series of narrow winding roads & walkways past delicious restaurants, tiendas, and Spanish language schools. We hit up the Alegre Pub to watch the Packers beat the Patriots, nomming on some American appetizers (mozzarella sticks ftw!), and meeting AJ & Kat and their dog Alex. [I opted for the fantastic Bloddy Mary specials, passing over the options for various Gallo's, the good beer of Guatemala] We spent the next couple of days meandering around town and enjoying the stunning views of Lake Atitlan. We had planned to return to the Antigua area to hike Pacaya Volcano, but had heard some safety concerns about camping at the trailhead. We decided to stay in San Pedro one more day, hiking its namesake: Volcan San Pedro, a 3000m summit.

Really enjoying the Human Centipede through Panama. Bonus points for creativity.

Pete, does this look up to code?

 The lake's water level is rising, much to the chagrin of those that had beach-front property.

We hopped in a tuk tuk and were on our way to the base (which is slightly above the 1500m altitude of Lake Atitlan). We had read online that it was hard to find the trail at the bottom of the mountain due to all the coffee plantation trails, and so it was recommended to hire a guide. Our tuk tuk driver convinced us to hire his brother-in-law as our guide. Pedro (“Pedro from San Pedro”) set off at a brisk pace up the trails, winding through rows of coffee plants and avocado trees. Since the base of the trail was already at a decent altitude, Ike and I were soon out of breath. We soldiered on for about an hour, stopping for a break at the mirador, and heading a bit further up to the tree line. By this point Ike was not feeling well at all, and I was quite pooped, so we decided to turn around and head back. It was a beautiful hike up with lovely views overlooking the lake, but the trail was quite relentless in its incline. I guess we need to start hiking to build up our tolerance for South America. We treated ourselves to a scrumptious lunch at the Blue Parrot with Kat & AJ. It was so good that we went back that night for dinner!

Woo overlanding meetup!

We had heard from a northbound traveler that we met in Mexico that the road that runs south around Lake Atitlan was a bit dangerous, but you could request a police escort. I asked our tuk tuk driver about the road, and he said if you were walking it, it was a bit dangerous, but not so if you are driving. So that night at the Blue Parrot I asked the chef (also an American) about the road. He said it was dangerous, but you could request an escort from the police station. Walking back to our campsite that night we passed a group of police, so I asked them about the road. (I like to triangulate on these things...) They said it was a little dangerous, but if we just showed up at the police station in the morning we could get an escort. So that's what we did the net morning. The police were a bit baffled by us. I guess they prefer that people request an escort a day in advance. One of the police officers spent a good half an hour trying to call the other police division to make arrangements for them to escort us around the mountain. She finally told us she had arranged it, and that two officers would meet us along the road and hop in our car with us. “In our car?” I clarified. “We don't have room for them in our car. There are only two seats.” Back to the phone... after waiting another 10 minutes she informed us that police would be waiting along the road by the dangerous spot. They wouldn't be able to escort us, but they would be there so “there wouldn't be any problems.” Ike and I weren't totally convinced, so we decided to just take the northern highway back out around the lake (the one that had cooked our brakes on the way down).

There were lots of "Only Jesus can save me" signs around the city.  This one kinda trumps them all.

We wasted another half an hour trying to get out of town since our GPS didn't know which streets were one-way. Not a great way to start a long day of driving which is supposed to end with a border crossing. Our ETA continued to slip once we got on the road. First we had to stop on the highway for 15 minutes to wait for some construction work. Later in the drive we had to stop for 5-10 minutes for two accidents, the first looked like a head-on collision between semis, and the second also involved a semi that somehow lost its cab. Sheesh, get it together Guatemalan semi drivers!

"Hello, Guatemala? I have a bag of fucks for you to sign for. Oh, you refuse the delivery? Ok, I guess that's fine."

"Not quite what I meant when I said 'Bring everything you need' Maria....."

Time for our plan B: we camped at a beautiful (and free) ranch/hotel called Los Laureles, about an hour from the Honduras border at El Florido. We pulled in and saw a Porsche SUV, a $70,000 car Ike informed me, and went into the restaurant to ask about camping and found a couple (we assume the owners) totally macking on each other right in the middle of the restaurant in front of the waiters. Awkward. The boss told us where we could park our car and we set up as the sun set behind the mountains. We cooked deep dish pizza, watched South Park, and tried to keep our feet clear of the ant super highway near our campsite. Not a bad way to spend the evening. We also enjoyed watching some of the other rich patrons take photos out by the pool.

The next morning we set off towards the border, which we had read online was pretty low-key as far as border crossings go. We rolled up to the border and the helpful official told us to park our car, and then go to the customs building to cancel our Guatemalan car permit and then to the immigration office to have our passports stamped. All our documents in tow, we headed over to the customs office. A guard there waved us to the end of a long line. We soon figured out that the 20 or so guys waiting in line were semi drivers, so I asked them about the wait. They said that sometimes there isn't a line, but today we all just had bad luck. That's how it goes, I guess.

While Ike waited in line I headed over to the immigration office to get my passport stamped. The man asked where I was going in Honduras and then smiled and said in English “10 quetzales.” I knew there wasn't a fee to exit Guatemala, so I just said “por que?” (why?) and he shrugged and handed back my stamped passport. I told him that I was sending my husband over, but that he didn't speak Spanish. I went back to waiting in the customs line while Ike had his passport stamped. After 45 minutes, we were finally at the customs window to have our permit canceled. The woman informed me she needed a photocopy of our vehicle import permit. She waved me off to a building to have the copy made. They pointed me to a tienda across the street, who then told me that no, I have to go down a block to a different tienda. And then they told me I had to go to a different one across the street. Fourth tienda's a charm? The guy tried to charge us 1Q per copy, but we only had 1Q total and needed 3 copies, so he finally relented and gave the copies to us. 1Q per copy is definitely the gringo price. Copies in hand, we headed back to the customs office. I went to the front of the line again, but the woman had left her post. While standing there, I hear one of the other customs officers say that their system went down. Oh great, this could take awhile. Finally the woman comes back and tells me she needs 2 copies of the permit (good thing I had made 3!), she takes our copies of some other documents, then eventually walks with us to the car to check the VIN and take the permit sticker out of our windshield. A few minutes later we are done! Now time for the Honduras side.

We drove across the parking lot and headed into the immigration office. We had to fill out a form and then pay a $3 visa fee (price listed in USD, but they didn't accept USD). We tried to pay with Guatemalan quetzales, but the man didn't have change. We went out to the street and exchanged all our Quetzales for Honduran Lempira (exchange rate 2.5L = 1Q), then back inside to pay the immigration man and collect our passports. We had to head next door to obtain our vehicle import permit. The man at the reception desk walked us inside and motioned towards and empty office desk. He pointed at a woman standing by the window talking on her cell phone and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, you'll just have to wait until she finishes her (personal) phone call.... We stood around awkwardly for another 5 minutes, then finally a different person decided he would help us. He informed us we needed 3 copies of all our documents, including the canceled Guatemalan vehicle permit. So it was back out to find the copy shop on the Honduras side. We headed back in, handed over our mountain of paper work, and after another 10 minutes we were given a form and told to go pay the 703L fee at the bank next door. Once we finished that, we headed back in to finish our paperwork. On our way back to the vehicle, the man who completed our vehicle permit chased us down because he had forgotten to have us fill out the customs form stating what goods we brought into the country. Ok, now we are done! We hopped in the vehicle and showed our paperwork to the guard at the border, then were on our way. Another new country, check! All in all, the border crossing was very easy because we weren't constantly being hassled, but it took a lot longer than we excpected (2 hrs 15 mins).


Up next, our brief trip through Honduras & Nicaragua before meeting family in Costa Rica for Christmas! Happy holidays, all! Sending you warm thoughts from Central America.

------------------------------------------------------

Guatemala budget recap:

Expected days in country: 12
Actual days spent in country: 9
We have to rush through Guatemala and its neighbors to make it to Costa Rica in time to meet our family.

Daily budget: $60 USD
Actual expenses: $74 USD
Difference: $14 (24%). We feel good about our expenses in Guatemala, since our budget only includes day-to-day expenses such as food, lodging, and gas, but doesn't include things like visas, insurance, and gifts. If we ignore those items, we were right on for our budget.

Average price for gas: $3.99/gallon (30 quetzales per gallon. Yes, they use gallons in Guatemala), including a small tip for the gas station attendant. Gas prices varied significantly throughout Guatemala. We saw prices as low as 26Q/gallon and as high as 32Q/gallon.

Expected miles driven: 1,300
Actual miles driven: 749
Difference: -42%
It's nice to be under for a change! We spent less time in Guatemala than we had planned, so naturally we did less driving. 

Average gas mileage: 17.8 mpg, which is better than the 17 mpg we budgeted, but not as good as the 20 mpg we've been averaging on the trip so far. The lower mileage is probably due to all of the elevation change in Guatemala -- it's a mountainous country -- and all of the rough roads. It could also be due to poorer fuel quality, but we don't have strong evidence of that.

Average miles driven per day: 83
Hooray for small Central American countries! We still did quite a bit of driving. Looking forward to getting this number down even further.

Biggest daily expenses ($/day):
#1: Food- $19
#2: Gas - $19
#3: Entertainment - $13
We totally blew our food budget, partially due to eating out a bit more than usual, but also because food just wasn't as cheap as we anticipated. Lodging doesn't make the top 3 expenses this time, due to nearly half of our nights in Guatemala staying at free campgrounds. Half our our entertainment costs were for our attempted hike up Volcan San Pedro, which included 100Q/person entrance fees, 100Q/person guide fee, and 10Q/person each way tuk tuk fee.

----------------------------------------------------

Our thoughts on Guatemala: Another country down where we felt safe the entire time we were in it. The Guatemalan people came off as a bit stiff at first, but as soon as you greeted them they were all smiles and happy faces.  We enjoyed the laid back atmosphere of the country and its people.  Between Antigua and Atitlan there are easy points of ingress for tourists who want to experience Central America, and enough hiking to keep you busy for months.  Also very pleased with the road conditions and a police force that was focused on dealing with real issues instead of hassling tourists.