I.III.I.I – Flores: Day One
FLORES
I.III.I.I – DAY ONE
30/09/22
It was time to cross yet another border. Always, every time, unfailingly, I’m a friggin wreck. When the time approaches, I feel my heart thumping like crazy – as if suddenly I’m this criminal who’s trying to run away from another country, as if my bag is full of explosives and weapons. I had heard that the Belizean-Guatemalan border is one of the easiest and unproblematic to cross, but still, my nerves wouldn’t be appeased.
As the hundreds of Belizean flags gave way to hundreds of Guatemalan ones, I was finally across the border. No questions asked, no trouble whatsoever. I was, however, stopped by a government official who requested to take a selfie with me cause she had never encountered a Maltese guy before. Can’t quite blame her (that said, I find it astounding how I manage to find Maltese people everywhere I go despite there being so few of us!).
And so, I found myself in yet another country, that of Guatemala. Right from the very start, I could tell that this place was a somewhat wilder, rawer version of Mexico. In fact, Petén, the northernmost department of Guatemala, is adjacent to Chiapas – the wilder, rawer department in Mexico; my favourite!
The Island of Flores
A short bus ride later and I was at my first destination there; the island of Flores. The city is divided in two parts – the old city which is located on the island on the lake of Petén Itzá, and the mainland, both of which are connected by a causeway. The city used to be called Nojpetén; meaning ‘Great Island’, and, living up to its name, it was the last Mayan state to be conquered by the Spanish conquistadors in 1697. Its people, the Itzas, then fled to the jungle from the ruins of the island. The modern city of Flores was built and named after Cirilo Flores Estradal; a doctor and former vice-president of Guatemala. Today, the island is a conglomeration of narrow, cobble-stone roads and colourful colonial-style buildings covered in street art, with red tuk-tuks filtering through. Given its charm and vicinity to many attractions, it is no wonder that the city attracts millions of tourists every year.
What struck me the most as I got to explore and go around in Flores, was the amiability of complete strangers. Like the security guard who got me a SIM card for free when he saw my desperation the second he told me the shop was about to close and I didn’t have enough time to go get my passport. Or my lovely host Rosaria who answered every single one of my million questions without a single murderous glance. Or the chef at Bistro Puertas del Cielo who actually sat down next to me and asked me all kinds of questions in order to get a feel of what I would find delectable. So warm and welcoming!
Lake Petén Itzá
I spent my day roaming around the streets – ones that were by now all too familiar but nonetheless enticing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this city, is, in fact, backpacker friendly. Hundreds of hostels and restaurants dot the island, as do hundreds of backpackers themselves, vulturing around for a better deal than the previous. And I too was now in their midst. I haggled the price of a boat trip around the lake of Petén Itzá to almost half the original ask – guess my experience in Nepal did come in handy after all.
Lake Petén Itzá is a freshwater body that is shaped exactly like the lateral ventricle, with the island of Flores sitting comfortably in its inferior horn and the rural village of El Remate at the tip of its anterior horn. I’m sorry, I miss medicine, okay? It’s C-shaped with Flores at the tail and El Remate at the northeast tip – better? The lake measures around 99 kilometres squared and is the third biggest in Guatemala. More fascinating, at least to me, is the fact that the lake houses over a hundred indigenous species of fauna and at least 25 Mayan archaeological sites around it.
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The azure lake, seemingly continuous with the sky if not for the emerald green of the jungle or the grey buildings on the horizon, is always abuzz with all kinds of activities – from colourful boats, canoes and kayaks floating about, to people swimming and paddleboarding over its smooth surface. I’d be the guy on the boat for a couple of hours. The captain was a man of very few words. He’d point to a place, mutter its name and that’s it. Our first stop didn’t need much explaining considering it had the word “MUSEO” splattered over its façade. The Islote de Santa Barbara is a puny island housing a punier, very weird museum that contains ancient Mayan relics and old radio junk. Smack right in the middle of the island is a huge radio tower which has been in use for the past fifty years, or so did the cutest old living relic herself tell me. The museum stands as a testament to both archaeological and technological history.
Feeling somewhat fulfilled but none-the-wiser after my twenty-minute visit, I got back on the boat which now headed to the opposite bank. There, a short uphill climb led to what is known as the Mirador del Rey Canek; a viewpoint named after an Itzá state-lord. Here, a wooden platform with colourful art painted all over it towers above a hill that lends itself a 360-degree view of the entire lake. Truly a spectacular vista! Standing up there, all alone, I felt so grateful to be able to do so many things, see so much stuff. I realise this might get too repetitive, but it is true that I’d get to experience this feeling of almost unbearable gratitude on most days, especially when looking at something as gorgeous!
The Real Flores
The boat then made its way around the opposite side of the island, passing underneath the causeway to return to the starting point. From there, I made my way to the mainland where the buildings were more typical of other residential areas – run-down houses with their paint coming off, corrugated iron roofs, knots and tangles of telephone lines littering the views, and banners and posters advertising all kinds of stuff. Always makes me think of the “Instagram VS Reality” thing. Besides, this is where most of the people of Flores live. This was the real Flores.
Always, every time, I’d find myself feeling guilty that I don’t spend much time appreciating these areas. Whenever I’m actually doing so, I often sit down with locals and they tell me all about their lives. After some small talk, I ask the important questions. Healthcare, education, financial stability, anything and everything that pops into my head. More often than not, it feels like I’m prying, like I’m using them to gain knowledge, as if I’m at a zoo; entertaining myself at their expense. They tell me all about their families, their jobs, what makes them happy and I stand there smiling like an idiot, sharing their same happiness. They tell me all about the difficulties they face and all I can do is just smile sympathetically and say I wish it weren’t the case whilst simultaneously thinking about my privilege.
Is it condescending to ask someone who’s clearly on a different social scale about these things? Situation reversed, how would I feel if a random stranger just came up to me and asked me about my financial situation and how I manage to cope? Well, now that I’m thinking about it, that’s what people do to me all day long. I mean, here in Central America, people randomly stop me to ask me where I’m from and then proceed with a deluge of questions about my country and then my job and then my family and then whatever they feel like.
I never thought much about it, so maybe they don’t either? Maybe it’s not just about entertainment or education after all. Asking the real questions helps to break down boundaries, to connect with people.