"IS IT SAFE?" I ask, nudging the mixture of vegetables and arroz con salsa soya suspiciously with my fork.
"Of course. It's perfectly safe. We're the ones in trouble," my traveling companion Steve Neale quotes not-so-reassuringly. Though he might have picked this particular moment--our first meal in a third-world restaurant--to consult the Lonely Planet travel guide to Guatemala, he chose instead to reference the fateful line from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, in which Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect are confronted by the most dangerous being in the universe. Not an analogy that bodes well for me.
Had I known then that this would be the first of many times during our two-week sojourn in Guatemala that I would so ask and he would so answer--including but not limited to the grave, one-armed man carrying the .45 pistol in his belt who offered us a ride in the back of his pick-up truck, the large-but-unseen flying creature that would swoop down on our heads in the darkness of the El Petén jungle and the huge, black anvil cloud our tiny dual-prop plane would soon encounter--I wouldn't give the micro-organisms in the fragrant, steaming dish a second thought. Clearly, there would be macro-forces far more pressing to be reckoned with.
We have been in Guatemala City for exactly one rain-soaked day
in a comfortable Spanish colonial-style hotel ironically named
the Swiss Chalet (Hotel Chalet Suizo). Guide books may refer to
this $16-a-night stop in Zona 1 as bottom-end, but aside from
traffic noise if you happen to be on the bottom-floor street side,
the rooms are clean, good-sized and open onto a tropical courtyard
with lots of plants. Zona 1 is a good area for newcomers to the
Guate scene, being relatively secure and within walking
distance of the Red Cross, Plaza Mayor (where most of what you
want to see is located) and bus depot.
But having traveled a great distance at some expense to escape the pressures of urban living, we're anxious to get out of the city as quickly as possible and on to the Mayan ruins in the national park at Tikal, in the north-eastern area called El Petén.
From our 12-seater plane we enjoy a comprehensive view of Guatemala's contrasting faces. The sprawling, urban tangle of Guatemala City's dense 13 zones gives way to an endless carpet of soft green mounds of earth, each large and mysterious enough to conceal an entire civilization in its midst. Dark rivers snake through the sea of foliage. The plane takes a dramatic turn and descends on Lake Petén Itzá and the island town of Flores. A new city emerges, actually two cities linked by a dusty unpaved causeway, with a ragged assortment of colorful stucco buildings capped by corrugated tin, thatched-roof bungalows, wooden boats and uneven plots of vegetables.
Though making hotel reservations in advance is advisable, a small group of "taxi" drivers employed by area hotels wait at the airport to transport new arrivals the 60 kilometers between Santa Elena and Tikal, reservations or no. Command of Spanish is a definite plus in explaining where you plan to go, and in assuring yourself that the non-descript men loading your gear into an unmarked Mitsubishi mini-van are in fact part of the welcoming committee. The best deal going is to stay at the Jungle Lodge, the largest and most modern hotel, which is located right at the entrance to Tikal National Park. "Modern" is a relative term, meaning that the rooms have workable ceiling fans (until the generator is shut off around 9 p.m.), bathrooms with showers (no hot water) and are generally insect free...except for some reported instances of army ants passing through. They don't have any telephones, but hey--neither does Club Med. Still, it's a bargain at $20 per night. Don't even think about camping in the adjacent campground (a vacant plot of sorts) without a generous quantity of mosquito netting.
Our three days here, wandering through well-worn paths shaded by the rainforest's thick green canopy of ancient trees eerily hosting parasitic strangle vines, offers an experience unique to that of any other major Mayan site in Mexico, Guatemala or Belize. The roar of Howler monkeys, pulsating buzz of tree frogs and warbling of various jungle birds in the humid air create a rhythm of peace, if not quiet. With permission, we reenter the park after dark, hiking the low hill to the Great Plaza, where we gaze at the stars from the steps of the Temple of the Grand Jaguar. Extensive scaffolding on the west side may be an eyesore for some tourists, but it is encouraging evidence that conservationists and archaeologists have won the battle between preservation and deforestation.
We tell stories--some repeated, some imagined--about Mayan kings and warriors, like Great-Jaguar-Paw, General Smoking-Frog and the ruler during Tikal's renaissance in 700 A.D., Lord Chocolate, and try to imagine what this 12-square mile complex of temples, pyramids, plazas and acropolises must have been like teeming with 100,000 inhabitants in the mid-500s.
Despite a rather daunting message on the Department of State's travel advisory infoline, Tikal continues to be a relatively secure adventure for thrill-seekers. While travelers should be aware of an increase in armed robbery and incidence of aggravated assault on American travelers erroneously believed to be harvesting organs from local children for sale on the black market, the closest we came, as far as I know, to actual personal injury was a regrettable accident with a stray pig and the Mitsubishi mini-van. And the pig lived.
While Tikal is but one of Guatemala's pristine attractions, it is arguably the most satisfying. Travel by plane to Flores is a breathtaking one hour tour, safer and shorter than bus travel. And Belize, with its incredible Caribbean beaches, is just 62 miles east of Flores (less than half a day's trip by bus). My only advice is to hold your Lonely Planet travel survival kit firmly to your chest, nod respectfully to the patron saint undoubtedly displayed at the front of the bus, and avoid all conversations pertaining to the need for revolution...and have a good time.
