Into the Highlands
Coming to you live from the island city of Flores. But for now, back to Omoa.
Crossing from Omoa into Guatemala involved flagging down a highway bus filled with locals traveling to the border. Also on the bus was a guy from California, building schools and churches in Honduras. Because of visa issues (reminds me of Micah), he is forced to leave the country every three months, or be deported. We chatted for a bit about Belize, where he was heading, and the general state of affairs in Honduras.
Arriving at the border, everyone exited the bus to walk across the border. The tour book said there would be small (2$) exit and entry fees to get out of Honduras and into Guatemala, but I was waved through with only my passport. I jumped back on a bus to Puerto Barrios, where I could catch another to Rio Dulce, my destination for the evening.
In Puerto Barrios, things started to get a little interesting. My stomach felt queasy, and being packed into a hot, crowded bus wasn´t helping. By the time I got off the bus in Rio Dulce, I knew I needed to find a pace to crash quickly.
Rio Dulce is situated on the water, inland from the Carribean Sea. The north and south halves of the town are separated by a large bridge, then baking the in midday heat. The bus let me off on the north side of the town, so I walked over the bridge to the south to find El Tortugal, a nice looking hotel on the water. Arriving at the south side, I couldn´t find the place anywhere. I trudged back over the bridge ot the north side, where the locals told me I needed to take a boat to get to Tortugal. Trying to relax on the benches at the marina, I knew I was getting sick.
As the boat arrived to take me and a few other guests to the hotel, I picked up my luggage, only to quickly dart for the bathroom before breakfast came back out the way it came in. Throwing up felt oddly refreshing, and continued through most of the day. Riding the boat to Tortugal, I checked in quickly and fell asleep.
Tortugal was a boater´s paradise. Yaghts from all over the world were stationed there, along with various wealthy people to match. The beds were comfy, the food delicious, and the prices were cheap, so I spent the next day recovering while rain soaked the surrounding areas.
Leaving Tortugal, I found a small road through a swampy area, avoiding the boat ride back to the marina. I jumped on bus headed to Poptun, getting off outside the city to visit Finca Ixobel.
Finca is a bit of a commune stationed deep in the highlands. Many people spend weeks there relaxing, horseback riding, or farming to pass the time. At Finca I met a girl named Jenny and her friend, who had made the trek through the states and Mexico to end up in Guatemala. Jenny is a tree planter during the summer, planting over 1000 trees a day. She says it is hard work, but rewarding. Her friend plays the flute, and also dances along with the rythm.
At Finca I spent most of the time wandering around the large farm area, and walking with horses through deep jungley forests. The surroundings were extremely peaceful. The dinners at the place were surved buffet style, with delicious offerings every night. I was a bit sad to leave, but it was nice to know that such a peaceful place exists.
Crossing from Omoa into Guatemala involved flagging down a highway bus filled with locals traveling to the border. Also on the bus was a guy from California, building schools and churches in Honduras. Because of visa issues (reminds me of Micah), he is forced to leave the country every three months, or be deported. We chatted for a bit about Belize, where he was heading, and the general state of affairs in Honduras.
Arriving at the border, everyone exited the bus to walk across the border. The tour book said there would be small (2$) exit and entry fees to get out of Honduras and into Guatemala, but I was waved through with only my passport. I jumped back on a bus to Puerto Barrios, where I could catch another to Rio Dulce, my destination for the evening.
In Puerto Barrios, things started to get a little interesting. My stomach felt queasy, and being packed into a hot, crowded bus wasn´t helping. By the time I got off the bus in Rio Dulce, I knew I needed to find a pace to crash quickly.
Rio Dulce is situated on the water, inland from the Carribean Sea. The north and south halves of the town are separated by a large bridge, then baking the in midday heat. The bus let me off on the north side of the town, so I walked over the bridge to the south to find El Tortugal, a nice looking hotel on the water. Arriving at the south side, I couldn´t find the place anywhere. I trudged back over the bridge ot the north side, where the locals told me I needed to take a boat to get to Tortugal. Trying to relax on the benches at the marina, I knew I was getting sick.
As the boat arrived to take me and a few other guests to the hotel, I picked up my luggage, only to quickly dart for the bathroom before breakfast came back out the way it came in. Throwing up felt oddly refreshing, and continued through most of the day. Riding the boat to Tortugal, I checked in quickly and fell asleep.
Tortugal was a boater´s paradise. Yaghts from all over the world were stationed there, along with various wealthy people to match. The beds were comfy, the food delicious, and the prices were cheap, so I spent the next day recovering while rain soaked the surrounding areas.
Leaving Tortugal, I found a small road through a swampy area, avoiding the boat ride back to the marina. I jumped on bus headed to Poptun, getting off outside the city to visit Finca Ixobel.
Finca is a bit of a commune stationed deep in the highlands. Many people spend weeks there relaxing, horseback riding, or farming to pass the time. At Finca I met a girl named Jenny and her friend, who had made the trek through the states and Mexico to end up in Guatemala. Jenny is a tree planter during the summer, planting over 1000 trees a day. She says it is hard work, but rewarding. Her friend plays the flute, and also dances along with the rythm.
At Finca I spent most of the time wandering around the large farm area, and walking with horses through deep jungley forests. The surroundings were extremely peaceful. The dinners at the place were surved buffet style, with delicious offerings every night. I was a bit sad to leave, but it was nice to know that such a peaceful place exists.
posted by Benjamin at
5:53 PM
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