After enjoying life in Utila for much longer than I had previously envisaged I needed to be making tracks if I was to have any time to spend in Guatemala. So, still drunk from the night before and lacking any sleep I boarded the 6am ferry aiming for the mainland with a destination in mind but no idea of how to get there. It probably wasn’t my finest idea as I literally couldn’t speak properly nor understand what people were asking of me at different points but either way I managed to correctly navigate the eight modes of transport and endure the thirteen hours of sitting / dosing to arrive in a hostel I didn’t even know existed!
I’d been told Livingstone was a bit of a dive but from the water it looks quite nice so I was optimistic, but behind the pleasant shore front the town is a pokey, horrid, little place. I’d met a couple of guys on the buses so followed them up to the hostel Finca Tatin which sits about 20minutes by boat from Livingstone. After enduring the days travelling on buses, sitting in the boat going through the canyon at night was brilliant and the fatigue of the day slowly faded. When we arrived we were just in time for food (I’d say tea, but people are constantly confused what I mean) so sat down with everyone in the hostel for a lovely meal of soup, quiche and veggies. The people there seemed really friendly and I sat and chatted for a while before needing bed!
The next morning I had planned to join a few others on a trip to the waterfalls but woke feeling terrible. My stomach was churning and I had a chronic headache – I was ready for a relaxing day so I took the boat back down to Livingstone and spent the day sitting in a restaurant using their WiFi. It was the best idea I’d had as I sat on Skype talking to friends and family for about four hours. It was a brilliant tonic and “pick-me-up” as not only was I feeling a little poorly but saying bye to those in Utila was particularly tough – talking for hours to a few people I’ve known for years was exactly what I needed.
The next day I left for Copan which involved passing through Rio Dulce and the little I saw of it, I hated. It’s a dive of a place and I was glad I hadn’t stayed there. Maybe I made a mistake going to the Rio Dulce area as in some ways it was a waste of three days, but then I probably would have hated anywhere I went directly after Utila and wouldn’t have sat and chatting to those back in the UK. For that reason, and that reason alone, it was worth the detour.
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