Flores

We are in a little town called Flores, in Guatemala. There are people here from all over the world on occasion of the Mayan holiday. There is some uncertainty as to whether we will have access to the ruins on the 20th or 21st, because there are so many people here and locals have priority (makes sense). The entire park will be closed, it is rumored, for half a day on the 21st for shamanic rituals. So far, our best bet is to camp outside the gate on the 19th and wait to see what happens.



We are all having a grand time. Food is good, no sickness or crime, and everything we want we can get, eventually. The only moment I felt uncomfortable was at the Guatemalan / Belize border, but that quickly passed and we were on a bus out of there within an hour. We were swarmed by six 200-pound, 30 to 40 year old male mosquitos, each wearing cologn and a nice, very clean shirt. One was hovering just outside the gate, peeping through the window into customs where we were getting our visas. His english was perfect --apparently, we had learned everything wrong. Things were ten times more expensive, three times farther away, and if we did not take advantage of his unique and affordable services, we would all be lost. As soon as he began, five more came in, one by one. At one point I turned around and just stared at them. I simply could not belive my ears. We figured it out, though, and all is well.



Today we are going to take in the city here.