like Manhattan but more tropical

A long, but fabulously paved road through more jungles, farms, villages brought us to a little town called Sayaxche. From there we got to ride (in our car) on a ferry across the Rio Passion. The ferry, like so many other things in Guatemala doesn't look like it can possibly accomplish the task, but quietly, slowly it does.

From there, we drove on to Flores, a tiny island in the middle of a big lake. This is the last big town before Tikal, about an hour north. Seemed like a pretty place to stay the night before hitting the ruins in daylight.

There is a causeway that connects the island to the mainland, and cars, unfortunately, can use the causeway. We were glad of it so we didn't have to lug our backpacks, but quickly sad about it as we noticed that an island about 500m in diameter has about 500 cars, trucks and taxis buzzing all over it at all times. Seriously, loud motorcycles, compete with three-wheel taxis, gigantic SUVs, all kinds of cars w/o mufflers, and my favorite, vans with gigantic loudspeakers attached to the top blaring advertisements.

As we settled into the evening and enjoyed the tropical lake views from our 3rd floor balcony, we figured the traffic had to die down eventually. Over dinner, it was explained to us that the spine-rattling explosions we kept hearing were fireworks. Apparently this is the week that the island celebrates its patron saint, Christo Negro (Black Christ) with fireworks every night and music in the town square. Sounds lovely, right?

The music was the school band. There was a marching band too - about six people, but enthusiastic. Never actually saw the fireworks, but we heard them about every ten minutes, and each sounded like a hand grenade went off in the next block.

Finally we went to bed, assured that the fireworks only continue until 1:00 a.m. They never stopped. Seriously, a fucking hand grenade in your living room every ten minutes, all night long. Also, people walking by talking loudly, all night long. Traffic buzzing by all night long. Oh yeah, and every other hand grenade set off car alarms all over the island. Finally, some time around dawn, the thousands of beautiful tropical birds went into a group scream that lasted about an hour. Some time during all this horror, all the island's dogs went into a group howl too. I wanted to join them.

A tiny island in the middle of a lake in the middle of the most remote part of Guatemala, and I swear to Christo Negro, it was much louder than Manhattan. But it's warm at least. Though it has been raining for eight days here, we're hoping for clear skies today so we can march around the ruins all cranky with no sleep and get sunburnt.

Otherwise, a lovely place, really.