An Offering At Temple II

The journey to Guatemala was hellish. It began with the worst night’s sleep possible: we had bright lights outside or window that we couldn’t switch off and the curtains didn’t so much block them out, more turn them an intense, deathly blue-grey. Sleep was already difficult, when the karaoke bar opposite opened.

It wasn’t even the singing, though that was bad enough. No, the singing was welcome relief from the man. The man was some sort of host, drumming up trade or cajoling people into doing a song or whatever. And he didn’t stop. He was loud, backed by Latin beats and clouded by more reverb than Geri Halliwell’s bad takes.

I think we managed about 4 fitful hours of rest before waking fully refreshed for our bus journey across an entire country.

The bus (I say bus, I mean minibus that’d seen better days, sometime in 1980) left Chetumal at 5am for what we thought was an 8-9 hour journey through Belize, which is inconveniently in the way, direct to the Tikal national park in Guatemala. We stopped only for the Mexico-Belize then the Belize-Guatemala borders, plus a rest stop in Belize City where our stuff was moved and seats were taken by arrogant backpacker types while we stretched our legs.

After being told “Yeah? Well build a bridge and get over it!” by the world’s least funny Australian* when questioning why the bus was suddenly full and our things chucked in a corner, we squoze (yes, that is a word) into the back corner seats for the increasingly bumpy ride. Our driver did his best to avoid holes when he could be bothered, and we were only properly launched from our seats once.

A full 11 hours and one quick bus change after leaving Chetumal, we arrived at Tikal.

The Tikal park covers over 500 square km, with the entrance to the ruins and the cluster of hotels about 25km off the main road and into the rainforest. Our hotel was lovely, a collection of small comfortable bungalows with electricity only in the evenings and hot water a few hours a day. We slept that night in the pitch dark, listening to the chirp of crickets and tree frogs and the occasional chorus of howler monkeys.

At 6am we met our guide, Luis, for a tour of the forest and the ruins. Luis was astoundingly good, pointing out interesting plants and trees, teasing out a tarantula from its hole (Penny held it, I politely declined), spotting spider and howler monkeys, telling us something about the archeology and history, and at one point pointing 30 feet up a tree to show us two giant beetles. How he spotted them, I’ve no idea. But he was the sort of bloke who does the impossible and gives guided tours a good name.

The ruins themselves are breath-taking. Dating from over 2500 years ago, up until the city’s fall in about 900AD, there are over 13,000 structures identified but over 85% still lying beneath the jungle. The biggest of the temples poke up above the tree canopy; temples IV and V can both be climbed giving startling views of the forest in all directions with these few structures jutting out of a carpet of trees.

Again, photos will say more than I ever could, but this is a special place. Almost equal to Micchu Piccu in it’s majesty, this is a proper Indiana Jones world of mysterious and beautiful carvings and huge mystical temples. It’s rainforest location only adds to the sense of being somewhere secret and unique. You have to follow paths through dense trees and around corners, before the canopy opens up to reveal temple after temple, or ruins huddled in a clearing. Or you look up for a rare view of the top of a pyramid when trees happen to part. And all the while, monkeys swing and chatter above you, coaties cross in front forraging for ants and toucans call out from the branches.

The ruins close at 6pm, you can watch the sunset from the top of Temple IV and then you are told to leave by armed guard. Unless, of course, you’ve chatted up your guide.

We’d been enjoying Luis’s company on the tour and he’d guessed we were on honeymoon. At one point he was telling us about how wonderful it is by night, so we asked him if it was possible to arrange it. Sure enough, on our way back in at 4pm for sunset, the main guard on the gate stopped us to say it was ok. We should watch the sunset on Temple IV then speak to the man with the gun who was expecting us.

Sunset was beautiful, turning the tips of the temples rose gold. Then we slipped our armed friend a tip and he escorted us to the main plaza. We spent an incredible hour after the park closed, sipping cold beer on the top of Temple II. The sky was pitch black and the moon was high, shining bright silver. We sat in the moonlight, with Temple I in front of us, the acropolis to the left and palace to the right. Engulfing us was the thick silence of the jungle: that is, not silence at all, but the sounds of animals and insects and anything but people. It was unforgettable. A perfect, romantic honeymoon moment.

It was a real and rare privilege thanks to the kindness of Luis, and the friendliness of David and Domingo – the nicest fully tooled-up dudes you’ll ever meet.

* I know. This is the country that gave us Paul Hogan and “Kath and Kim” so I don’t say that lightly.