If I counted my days correctly, I returned to the world of the living on Day 6 or so. We tread carefully that day, since my intestinal adventures had already led us to miss Roberto and the girls with the van that was to take us to the next locale. Operating on our own agenda now, I became ever more thankful for my sister's relative familiarity with the Guatemalan transportation system.
Our first excursion (a test run of sorts) was to El Paraiso, a small hot spring not far from where we were staying. Since my innards were still somewhat unpredictable, little sis did me a huge favor by splurging on the nicer coach-style bus headed in that direction. While still decorated like a chicken bus on the inside, it provided a far more comfortable ride and on-board bathroom, just in case.
We disembarked near a farm and made our way, along with a small group of others, towards a hot spring in the jungle/woods. After walking a short distance, we began to smell something truly putrid. It was as if we were hiking on a garbage pile loaded with rotten eggs. In the midst of this odiferous paradise, we came upon a (less sarcastic) visual one.
The springs had a strong waterfall on one end, and an easy entry point on the other. The pool at the entry point was rather cool, and after a few moments in it, you were most eager to get to the hot part of the springs, beside the waterfall. There was, however, one little hitch: a patch of reasonably deep water (11 feet or so was the estimate given by others who'd crossed) between the cool entry pool and the warmth and thunder of the springs and waterfall. While a short distance swimming in pool-depth waters is not daunting to most, I am not one who has ever had tremendous confidence in her swimming ability. Water deeper than I am tall makes me anxious if I am not in a watercraft and/or wearing a PFD. Again, this was something that had to be overcome if I were going to enjoy this experience. Plus, the group of Belgians at the spring with us were watching, and after I'd won cool points for knowing that they were speaking Flemish, I couldn't lose all those points by wussing out on a little swimming.
In the spirit of the trip, I eventually joined my sister and the Belgians on the other side, enabling me to enjoy more fully both the heat and the smell of the springs. Heading back, the second crossing of "the depths" was less daunting and more urgent. We had a bus to catch back to our island of monkeys.
Our first excursion (a test run of sorts) was to El Paraiso, a small hot spring not far from where we were staying. Since my innards were still somewhat unpredictable, little sis did me a huge favor by splurging on the nicer coach-style bus headed in that direction. While still decorated like a chicken bus on the inside, it provided a far more comfortable ride and on-board bathroom, just in case.
We disembarked near a farm and made our way, along with a small group of others, towards a hot spring in the jungle/woods. After walking a short distance, we began to smell something truly putrid. It was as if we were hiking on a garbage pile loaded with rotten eggs. In the midst of this odiferous paradise, we came upon a (less sarcastic) visual one.
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| Our sulfur-laden paradise |
The springs had a strong waterfall on one end, and an easy entry point on the other. The pool at the entry point was rather cool, and after a few moments in it, you were most eager to get to the hot part of the springs, beside the waterfall. There was, however, one little hitch: a patch of reasonably deep water (11 feet or so was the estimate given by others who'd crossed) between the cool entry pool and the warmth and thunder of the springs and waterfall. While a short distance swimming in pool-depth waters is not daunting to most, I am not one who has ever had tremendous confidence in her swimming ability. Water deeper than I am tall makes me anxious if I am not in a watercraft and/or wearing a PFD. Again, this was something that had to be overcome if I were going to enjoy this experience. Plus, the group of Belgians at the spring with us were watching, and after I'd won cool points for knowing that they were speaking Flemish, I couldn't lose all those points by wussing out on a little swimming.
In the spirit of the trip, I eventually joined my sister and the Belgians on the other side, enabling me to enjoy more fully both the heat and the smell of the springs. Heading back, the second crossing of "the depths" was less daunting and more urgent. We had a bus to catch back to our island of monkeys.
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