Theses are the words from my journal... I may change the way it is written on paper, but I can assure you that the stories are exactly as they happened.
I learned at a young age to keep a journal when traveling, and this one is all about my very first backpacking adventure, on my own without adult supervision!
I've wanted to tell my story long ago, and the time has finally come to transcribe these experiences onto the internet. And who knows, maybe you'll let me know whether these stories are worth making a book one day too.
I couldn't tell you what it's like today for 20 somethings to travel the way I did, if it's safer or more dangerous, but I can tell you that it shaped the rest of my life and traveling the world became a winter ritual for me and eventually for my family!
These are the stories of my youth, stories I never want to forget. I hope you enjoy them, but most of all, I hope they inspire you.
One of the most powerful kingdoms of the ancient Maya
Tikal is one of those places that doesn’t feel real even when you’re standing in it.
A Mayan city buried in jungle, spread across 16 square kilometers, that once held somewhere between 90,000 and 120,000 people. Four thousand homes with palaces, temples, pyramids, ball courts and sweat houses (according to the plaque). A whole civilization swallowed by trees.
To get to the ruins you don’t stroll, you hike. Long jungle trails where the air is thick, the ground is alive, and the soundtrack is howler monkeys screaming like tortured dinosaurs echoing through the canopy. It bounces through the forest like the jungle itself is yelling back.
And along the paths are these little creatures that look like if a squirrel, a raccoon, and a monkey somehow had a baby. Brown fur, long snout and a monkey tail. These little guys were completely unafraid of humans. They hop in and out of garbage cans like they own the place! These little creatures are the White-nosed Coati, also known locally as the pizote or coatimundi.
Let's not forget the other part of the Tikal soundtrack. Locals halfway popping out of the thick jungle calling out, in a low voices, but loud enough for passers-by to hear: "Hongos, hongos!?" Translated in english, it means mushrooms... and they weren't selling the kind of mushrooms you nonchalantly use in a soup with the whole family! These were the kind you eat raw, to explore Tikal from a different perspective. 😁
The whole park is beautiful in that overgrown lost world way. There's really no right way to say it, it was overwhelming to imagine the size of this city, and how important of a civilization it must have been. You could actually feel its power as we walked through the site... the stairs alone were magnificent, and the sheer energy it must have taken to build the city almost entirely out of stone, was incomprehensive.
From the top of Temple IV (also called the “Two Headed Snake”) you can imagine what this place looked like in 500 AD. You could have seen the entire city rising out of the jungle. Back in early 2000 more than half of it was still buried under vines and trees, looking like small green mountains. The rest had been uncovered and restored, like someone carefully peeling back time. I need to go back again, to see how much has changed!
It was definitely one of the most impressive sites I had seen. One really needs to step foot on these grounds to be able to feel the power of this ancient city. We were all in awe, and tired from hiking up and down every building we could!!! Be ready for some good exercise when you go.
After a long awesome day in the jungle amongst the ruins, we were back in Flores. The next morning, after food, a museum visit, and me losing a chess game to Vero, we said goodbye to Helmut (who we somehow kept running into everywhere), and boarded a bus for Guatemala City.
Nine hours, and I slept most of it. We rolled into Guatemala City at 5am and that’s when things got weird...
Guatemala City at Dawn... feels like LSD!
The moment we stepped off the bus, about five guys surrounded us, all talking at the same time in Spanish and broken English.
“Where you going?”
“Copán?”
“You need Chiquimula!”
“Change bus there!”
“Come come come!”
They were in front of us. Behind us. On both sides. Different faces but the same voice. People peeling off and new ones appearing. It felt like a scene from a dream where the environment won’t stabilize.
I wasn’t scared, I just felt like I was accidentally tripping.
This is sort of exact the type of thing you normally only see while on acid.
People sleeping on sidewalks. Others hustling. Old broken buses everywhere. Mechanics under hoods. School buses repainted decades ago into something very colorful, like a lot of things in Guatemala.
Eventually we made it to an actual bus office and learned the truth:
Bus to Chiquimula. Then change for Copán, Honduras.
Of course, everyone was right!
We found a hotel after negotiating past a place that wanted to charge us for two nights for a 4-hour nap. This hotel gave us a little surprise... Though it was only $1 a night, there was a reason, it was an juvenile jail turned hotel! At first you couldn't tell, sure the boring dirty yellow walls were enough to justify the price, but once inside the rooms, the jail cell bars were fully exposed. The stainless steel toilet in the room was a dead giveaway! The girls showered. I didn’t — no hot water.
We did breakfast at McDonalds. I sent a postcard to my mom, and then we went to find the market.
The Flea Market from Another Dimension
This market was two football fields stacked on top of each other.
Downhill: food, herbs, candles.
Uphill: a giant closet for deadheads.
Necklaces, beads, fabrics, strange things you don’t ask about. I bought a wooden necklace with orange beads. Sandrine bought a hammock-chair thing to mail to Joe in New York. Vero and I bought hats and gifts. Then Wendy’s for lunch. We went back to the hotel for showers again (hot water this time). Then back to the market because the girls wanted the same necklaces I got for gifts.
Foodwise, it was a proper American day, for dinner we had pizza. At some point in this wonderful chaos we bought bus tickets.
The city smelled like piss, exhaust, and something else I really didn’t want to identify.
The Bus to Chiquimula
Same chaos that morning. People everywhere trying to sell us on buses to various places throughout Guatemala!
The bus we had tickets for was supposed to leave at 8:15, it eft at 9:00. We had an old bus, our knees in your chests and Salsa music blasting through blown-out speakers.
Halfway there we got a flat tire. The driver fixed it on the side of the road like it’s routine.
Chiquimula was another small town that felt like it runs on pure bus confusion. Guys hustling tickets to Copán everywhere. We ignored them and found the station's office.
Then we saw our buses.
Two ancient school buses painted in darker colors a long time ago. One with the hood open and guys were working on the engine. Of course that one was ours.
Our bags went up on the roof for the first time on our trip and that wasn't comforting at all, but it was safe.
The bus was packed full, we had three people per seat (normaly 2), some standing. Three guys were working the bus, as that seems to be the standard Latin American bus system: a driver, a ticket guy, and a luggage guy.
The steering wheel had so much play in it we almost hit trees whenever the driver turned around to look at a girl.
Uphill, this bus in first gear was doing about at 2 mph. And going downhill, we were at full speed to make it up the next hill.
Fortunately he stopped every 50 feet to pick people up or drop them off.
Two hours later we reached El Florido at the border by way of paved road, dirt road, worse dirt road, rocks, potholes, cows, and things I couldn’t identify.
Border Wisdom from a 70-Year-Old French Couple
We met this older French couple who had worked their whole lives and were now spending everything traveling the world together.
They gave us the best advice:
“If they don’t like your price, start walking. They will follow you and negotiate.”
At the border we paid $4 to leave Guatemala and $2 to enter Honduras.
Then we climbed into the back of a pickup truck like cattle for a buck and rode 20 minutes to Copán, holding onto bars at chest height and eating dust from oncoming traffic.
Honestly, it was kind of fun. The girls were stressed. But I was enjoying this ride.
Copán, Travelers, and Backup Plans
We found a hotel for 100 Lempiras, walked around checking internet prices, laundry, buses to the ruins and La Ceiba for some island time.
We had dinner at a place run by a Dutch couple where we met a couple of travelers from Sweden. They told us how to make money in Argentina by buying clothes in Bolivia and reselling them. They gave us names of places in Ecuador and Peru where you can work in kitchens for room and board.
I made a mental note and if I run out of money, I’ll be doing that, no problem.
Next stop: the ruins of Copán. And another adventure entirely....
My First Backpacking Trip:
Chapter 01: NYC to Mexico - Y2K
Chapter 02: NYC to Mexico - Cajun Wedding
Chapter 03: Everything is Lost
Chapter 04: Mexico City Finally!
Chapter 05: Robbery at Gun Point
Chapter 06: Sick but Safe in Veracruz
Chapter 07: Tlacotalpan and the Eyipantla Falls
Chapter 08: In the Land of Zapatistas
Chapter 09: Zapatistas and Skinheads
Chapter 10: Horseback To Chamula
Chapter 11: The Pyramids of Palenque
Chapter 12: Left for Dead on a River
Chapter 13: Killer Bees, Crocodiles, and Border Crossings
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