The Jaguar, The Eagle, The Snake and the ... Armadillo!

And so I was finally at the end of the tour. TC and I were woken by the alarm clock. She quickly got up and started to get ready for the day ahead, whilst I remained in bed, still slightly intoxicated from the night before!

I waited for the room to stop spinning, then focused on the empty back pack and pile of clothes lying next to it at the end of my bed! Why the hell didn't I pack before going out last night? And how the hell was I going to pack when as far as my brain was concerned I was still dancing on the bar and knocking back Tequilas (it never learns!) and what the hell were those bruises shaped like hand prints on my arms! 

And so, despite a severe lack of co-ordination I managed to ram everything back into the aforementioned back pack, then have a shower, get dressed, squeeze out of the tiny room and hurry off for breakfast with TC. 

We reached the restaurant where I felt queazy just watching TC as she eagerly helped herself to platefuls of food from the buffet. I just about managed to swallow a few mouthfuls of pancakes, purely to absorb the remaining alcohol left in my system. 

A short while later we reluctantly made our way back. Yet again I was feeling sad about leaving the group and saying goodbye to anyone still at the hotel and not up the volcano. TC was going to be catching a later flight to the UK and informed me that she didn't particularly like saying goodbye either, so she was just going to wish me a brief farewell then go off shopping - well actually she was going off to stock up on more food for her journey. Obviously the three and a half platefuls she had had for breakfast weren't quite enough!?

The cab arrived and TC, my friend of 30 years, looked at Neil and said: "She's going to blubber". Then gave me a quick hug, which was closer to a pat on the back and stoically said: "Bye then, see you later!" And hurried away. She was right, I blubbered. 

I joined Craig who was waiting for me by the cab, (His flight to Manchester was the same time as mine), then I turned to Neil and thanked him again for saving my life the night before, we had a hug (I secretly blubbered) and climbed into the taxi and we drove off into the distance - like a typical cheesy farewell scene on Eastenders!

A little over an hour later, Craig and I had checked our luggage on to our respective flights and said our goodbyes. I blubbered something about coming up to visit him on his farm one day and helping him milk the cows, but that could have been the remnants of the tequila talking, then I hurried off to my boarding gate ... 

And I was off, back to Playa Del Carmen where I was to have four days relaxing on the beach. Logistically it should probably take only about 2 to 3 hours maximum, but as there were no direct flights I had to take a 2 hour flight back up to Mexico City, spend six hours at the airport waiting to catch my connecting two hour flight back down to Cancun, where I spent another hour and a half waiting for my transfer to pick me up and take me on a 45 minute drive, before finally arriving at my hotel around 1:30am. All in all a total of 13 hours!!

But it was worth it. The hotel was perfect; I had a huge double room in which I could probably have fitted a whole Mayan Village. I was a five minute walk from the beach and 5th Avenue (the Main Street with all the shops, bars and restaurants). And I only managed to get lost once!!

It's now been a whole week since I got back to the UK and my freckles are rapidly disappearing. My four days spent on the 'The Maya Riviera' were lovely. I did nothing! No ruins, no early starts, no long coach journeys, no Mosquitos!! Just me on a sandy beach, looking out at the Caribbean with a Piña Colada in one hand and a good crime thriller in the other. And as I sit here in my bedroom in North London writing this last part of my blog I can't help but smile as I remember the amazing time I spent in Central America. 

But what's with the title of this post, you may ask? Well ... The Jaguar is an animal deeply revered throughout Mesoamerican history. He was the great god, able to move between the underworld and earth. A symbol of power, strength and survival. 

Then there's the Eagle and The Snake, as found in the Mexican flag. Well the story goes that the Aztecs (a nomadic tribe pre-dating the Mayans), were told by their gods to look out for an Eagle stood upon a cactus eating a Serpent and to build the capital city on that site - they saw it, they built it and hello Mexico City. (Or Tenochtitlan as it was called then).

And why The Armadillo? Apparently that's me! According to Mayan astrology anyway. Supposedly I am tough on the outside and soft on the inside. Well the truth is, I am not. But I am trying to be as my family and I come to terms with the rapid deterioration of my dad's health (as mentioned in my first post). 

This holiday came at a time I most needed it and the people I spent it with were unknowingly the best tonic, for which I will always be grateful. Theres a saying which goes: "People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime". Or as my late nana would say: "It was beschet". (Yiddish for "Meant to be")

And so finally I have reached the end of this years travel blog, but hopefully it won't be my last. A while back, TC and I were out for a drink with a friend of mine who produces documentaries for TV. We were regaling her with our stories of travelling through India, where TC's issues with hygiene were 'surprisingly' highlighted and my understanding of the word 'patience' was truly tested. My friend looked at us and laughed: "How about I try and get a camera crew together and film you both travelling around the most dangerous countries in the world?"

The sweat broke out across TC's face as she feverishly shook her head and said: "I'll only go somewhere that's clean and has decent food".

Me? Well I just smiled with a glint in my eye. 

So dear reader, any suggestions ...

                            

Penultimate posting and how to leave a lasting impression on your new friends ...

This morning I woke up with a swollen eye! A bloody mosquito bite! Nice way to end the tour really, though I guess it didn't look as bad as it felt, but there was certainly some visible 'droopage' going on in my right eyelid.

Breakfast was great! The best so far; a huge buffet with as much as you could eat. Unfortunately, those kind of deals are wasted on me as I generally don't eat loads, but TC was there to make up for it as she piled up her plate and prepared snacks for the onward journey.

We climbed on board the waiting boat and set off for Antigua - no not the Caribbean Island of Antigua, we were off to the city of Antigua, one of the ex-capitals of Guatemala.

It seemed like the longest journey of the tour, maybe because it was my last one with the group but six hours on a coach was quite enough. Luckily I managed to knock myself out with a travel sickness pill and unfortunately missed most of the sights, until finally waking up as we drove through Guatemala City - the present capital (I think there have been about three?!) and the largest city in Central America.

About an hour later we reached the city of Antigua and it was certainly a sight for sore (and mosquito bitten) eyes. Founded in 1541 and surrounded by the Acetanango, Fuego and Agua volcanoes, the view from the coach was pretty breathtaking.

After checking into the hotel, Neil took us on the final orientation walk, then was free time to wander around.

The streets are old and cobbled, the buildings stunning Colonnial style and of course there was the main square; The Parque Central, where locals and visitors can often be found sitting on the park benches around the Fuente de Las Sirenas fountain.

With only about an hour to spare before everyone met for our farewell dinner, TC and I tried to take a brief stroll around and get a slight insight into this lovely little city. However, there wasn't enough time in between finding an Internet cafe to check in for our respective flights the following day and getting lost trying to find our way back to the hotel - Antigua is laid out on a grid system, pretty simple and therefore supposedly easy to navigate ... in theory.  

It was a great shame that we weren't there for an extra day, with so much more to see including climbing one of the volcanoes! Oh well, I guess next time round?

I decided to make an effort that night, being our last one and actually put on a dress, then plastered on some make up to try and cover up 'the drooping eye'.

TC had asked to fit in one more round of salsa so Neil took us to a lovely restaurant where there was a live band and dancing afterwards. 

Two glasses of red wine (remember I am a light weight drinker) and a delicious meal, then I was ready to swing my hips on the dance floor, Latin style. The band started up and I dragged Craig - the farmer from 'up North' (said in Northern accent), into the heaving throng of dancers . I took the lead and showed him a few moves, while he attempted to keep up. Then I figured if one was performing salsa, it would be wrong for one not to have a Mojito! Well one would wouldn't one? 

One Mojito later and then Damian was trying to keep up with me on the dance floor, followed by Nick who was actually managing to keep the lead. Then TC?!

It was group photo time then Neil suddenly announced that we should all follow him to a local bar where the dancing was even better and we were off! I stumbled up the cobbled streets trying to keep up with everyone, but by this point the alcohol had approached my knees and they were going numb! 

We entered the bar and the room was heaving with people. "Everyone up on the roof terrace!" Neil shouted at us above the noise of the people and loud music blaring out of speakers on either side of the bar.

We trundled (I stumbled) up the winding staircase onto the largish roof terrace where tables where scattered all around near heaters and the bar itself wasn't too busy. I offered Neil a drink as a thank you for the 'burrito moment' a few nights before (still sounds like a euphemism?!) and also offered to get Vicki what she would like. They both opted for a Long Island Ice Tea, I had never had one of those before so thought it was the perfect time to give it a go. 

Now when I say these drinks were massive I mean massive - the cup was probably the size of my cereal bowl. Vikki and Neil, obviously hard-core drinkers, had no problem knocking theirs back reasonably fast. I on the other hand was desperate to keep up and managed half way before I started to feel that maybe I should pace myself? Especially when Neil announced that we should all go downstairs for a dance!

At this point TC decided it was time to leave.

I followed the others downstairs - making sure I held tightly onto the banisters as I went on my way. 

Jo, my 'up on the bar' dance partner from back at Coco Bongos in Cancun, was just in front of me. I turned round to her and mumbled: "I'm not dancing on the floor with everybody else. I want to get up there on the bar". As I petulantly threw my handbag at Ella sat at the end of the bar.

I didn't have to say it twice; Jo was up there like a flash leaning down and pulling me up next to her. Within seconds the tequila lady was over by which point I had forgotten that I was pacing my alcohol intake as she poured a mouthful of tequila down my throat. 

And there we were, Jo and I up on that bar, moving and grooving, twisting and twirling, strutting our stuff for all to see. 

Rihanna was blaring out of the speakers and for some reason unknown to myself I thought it was the perfect time to start headbanging?! 

So there I was. Shaking my head backwards and forwards up and down left and right as though I was listening to some heavy rock band until after about a minute I realised I was feeling a tad light headed. 

I stopped and looked over at Jo who seemed to be staring back at me with a look of horror on her face. The room wasn't just spinning it was going at warp speed around my head and then, everything seemed to move in slow motion ... I saw Jo trying to reach out to me as I tried to reach back to her, but it was too late my balance had gone and I flipped backwards spreadeagled (I have always been elegant) and 'crowd surfed' the people below me!! Good job I was slightly inebriated or I probably would have felt the pain as I heard the cracking sound of my head bouncing off a few heads in the crowd!

Luckily it was my group that I fell back on. Neil and Damian caught me on either side and in one fell swoop lifted me back onto the bar where I immediately carried on dancing with Jo as though nothing had happened!! Personally I thought it looked very professional and well choreographed. 

Within seconds an overexcited Neil jumped up on the bar next to me and with a huge grin on his face and his fists scrunched up to his mouth like an excited kid (an endearing Neil mannerism), he said: "I just saved your life!!"

"I know" I replied with an embarrassed smile "Yet again!" It was at that point I decided that I had had enough alcohol for the night. 

About an hour or so later, apparently after a few dances with some random guys - I say apparently because I didn't realise that I had until Jo sent me the photos ...

... Vicki, Jo, Damian and myself decided it was time to leave and find pizza! (See I must have been drunk as I've told you before I actually hate pizza!) Unfortunately, (or not) there were no pizza places to be found and after getting lost (so much for the simple grid system!!) we found our way back to the hotel. 

I said goodnight and goodbye to my new friends, (trying to hold back my tears as I hugged them), they were going to be off early in the morning for the volcano climb so I wouldn't get to see them before I left for the airport. Then I managed to find my way back to my room where I woke TC up knocking on the door before realising the hotel staff had a spare key. 

I stumbled over to my bed - waking TC up again as I knocked into her bed (well the room was the size of a shoe box!!!) I crawled under my covers and as I drifted off to sleep I suddenly remembered the mosquito bite on my droopy eyelid and thought: "How embarassing!"

"Thunder bolts and lightening, very, very frightening, me ..."

Today is Friday 24th of January 2014 and I can't stop feeling sad that my trip is almost over. In two days time I say Adios to my fellow travellers and head back up to Mexico to spend a few more days on the beach in Playa Del Carmen, before returning back home to London.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate I am very lucky to have the time to chill out; TC is having to go straight back to work. It's just that firstly I am not looking forward to saying goodbye (not really good with them) and secondly I am 'quite upset' (again censorship prevents me from expressing myself properly) that when I originally booked this trip, I wasn't made aware of the fact that I could have tacked on another 4 weeks and travelled through the rest of Central America all the way down to Panama! I didn't find out until we were already in Mexico City and by that time it was too late for me to change my arrangements. 

I sat up in bed, feeling like a petulant teenager and quite prepared to throw a strop over 'How unfair it was that I was missing out on what my friends were doing!'  But the adult in me realised it was in fact pointless ruining the last few days of my holiday and I should just make the most of my time. And with that I got out of bed, (we managed to get a lie in til 7am!) and finished re packing my ruck sack (this had become a daily ritual), then discussed with TC as to whether or not she should take an immodium that day (another daily ritual), followed by her showing me all the mosquito bites she had received the night before and telling me how itchy they all were (yet another daily ritual). After which I popped over the road to pick up my bag of clean laundry for the last time on the trip, hurried down to the local shop to buy the highly recommended slice of home made banana cake to take as a breakfast snack, then joined the others on board the private mini bus (in Guatemala we travelled in style, no more Chicken buses!) and headed off to catch a boat to take us up the Rio Dulce to the Catamaran Island Hotel, where we were going to be staying for the night.

The Rio Dulce is a river that runs from the Lago de Izabal - the biggest lake in Guatemala - into the Caribbean Sea. And as we climbed onto our boat, as tended to be the case on this trip, the heavens opened up and it started to 'cheep cheep!'

So there we sat, speeding along this beautiful body of water; fleeces on, windbreakers done up to the max, hoods up, caps pulled down and thick black tarpaulins sheets wrapped round us to protect us from the wind and rain and river water attacking us from all sides. (TC announced she had an umbrella!)

We passed by the Castillo de San Felipe, the Spanish Colonnial fort built at the head of the Lake, to keep away the Caribbean pirates (think Johnny Depp) that used to sail up the Rio Dulce, basically causing mayhem and distress with the traders. It was eventually destroyed and rebuilt and has now been classed as a UNESCO World Heritage site.

We reached the hotel, clambered off the boat, dropped off our luggage, took a swift turn around, clambered back onto the boat, wrapped up again and set off on a two hour scenic route to Livingston. 

Gradually the rain started to ease and the sun began to burn through the clouds, as Heraldo our boat driver sailed us through the mangroves and Neil pointed out the wildlife living there. We saw Herons, Cormorants, Pelicans and Iguanas drying off on the branches. Some had even made a home in a battered boat destroyed by a hurricane many moons ago. Lily pads floated on the water, locals fished for crabs and shrimp ... All was peaceful.

Named after the American politician Edward Livingston, the tiny town of Livingston is found at the mouth of the Rio Dulce and unlike the rest of Guatemala, it's main population are The Garifuna (descendants of West Africa, Carib and Arawak people). 

We stepped off our boat into this tiny town and took in the laid back atmosphere as we climbed the steep streets to the restaurant booked for luncheon - we were all starving!

Neil had recommended the local spicy fish soup (Tapado), which was made from prawns, crab and ... a fish?! My religious background dictates that we are only allowed to eat fish that have fins and scales, basically nothing shell like! But this was a holiday of 'firsts' for me, plus my feelings about religion, over this last year in particular, are generally quite negative. You could kinda say that me and 'him upstairs',  if there is a 'Him upstairs', are no longer on speaking terms and so kind of as an act of defiance I decided to give it a go. 

We sat down for our meal and I nervously mumbled 'Er, I have never eaten crab before can someone show me what to do?' A couple of people looked at me with surprise and I started to think that this may be a slightly more embarassing experience than the whole 'first time snorkelling' one. Plus there was a slim possibility that I may get struck down by lightening for breaking one of the sacred laws of the religion I had been born into. And that could be slightly awkward. (Jewish guilt and Catholic guilt; "pretty much on par with each other", according to my half Italian, Lapsed-Catholic housemate. She says it never goes away, it stays with you for life no matter what! - holy shit!) 

The bowl of soup was placed in front of me. 

Suddenly I could hear 'Oh Fortuna' from Carmina Burana  http://youtu.be/EJC-_j3SnXk  playing all around me (or maybe that was just the side effects of the anti malaria tablets I was taking?) Either way I nervously looked down at the soup and started to shake ... It wasn't the half a crab staring up at me from the coconut based potion, nor was it the smattering of pink prawns floating around in the Bouillon, it was the, the, the ... My stomach started to churn, the wretching was on its way and I turned to our ever helpful tour leader sat next to me: "Neil, please may I ask you a favour? Please could you possibly get rid of the ..." TC glanced over at me and saw the pleading look in my eyes, she knew what was causing me such distress; she had been through this with me before, in India and it was not a pretty sight. She lept to my rescue. "Neil!" She quickly called out. "Neil, you have to remove the head and tail from the fish! Quickly! She can't look at it! It makes her go funny".

Neil quickly pulled my bowl away and cut off the offending body parts. I smiled and thanked him profusely as the bowl was returned to me, then suddenly took a sharp intake of breath. "No!" TC added as she saw me staring at the spare plate in the centre of the table with everyone's discarded bits of food on. "It needs to be out of her line of vision! Quick move it out of the way!" I raised my hand to cover my eyes as the plate was quickly removed from the table and I was able to relax and attempt to enjoy my lunch.

I tried the crab and to be honest, I wasn't that impressed, seemed like a lot of mess for a small amount of meat, that didn't have much flavour anyway. As for the rest of it, well the 'undressed' fish was succulent, the prawns tasty and the soup delicious, especially with the local coconut bread dipped in it. And to my relief, I didn't get struck by lightening!

The boat ride back to the hotel was a dry one and once there, we relaxed by the pool bar catching up on Face Book and the like before dinner, after which a few of us returned to the bar where Damien shared his bottled of rum, smuggled in from town and we all got involved in an intellectual discussion about the music of Robbie Williams and Ollie Murs!

Meanwhile I continued to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach; tomorrow was going to be my last full day with the group. We were going to be going to Antigua, once the capital of Guatemala until it was moved to Guatemala City in 1776. And little did I know my last night was going to result in another 'first' for me. One that would involve a few too many drinks, a crowded pub, a bar top, Rhianna and a little bit of head banging ....