Day 56 - Deep in the swamps of Rio Dulce

We're deep in the jungle now. Insects I have never seen before, big insects, are everywhere. Hidden birds let rip with weird and wonderful squeaks and warbles, whilst the cicadas never stop. The smell of swamp and mangroves is all around, but not as offensive as you would think. I turn to Rachel and tell her it reminds me of the computer game, The Secret of Monkey Island. She laughs and agrees. We sing the theme tune, talk about geeky things for a bit and laugh some more.

It's fun being in a swamp. Our cabin is made of wood planks and has netting for windows. Boardwalks run between all the buildings. At night, they light candles and oil lamps, giving it all a middle-of-nowhere, voodoo feel. I feel like I am holed-up in a secret pirate lair. Any minute now, I expect Johnny Depp to walk into the bar in mascara and order rum.

After crossing the border into Guatemala, we spent two nights in Flores. It's a cobbledy little island-town in the middle of a lake. It was pretty enough. The hostel we stayed in (Los Amigos) was full of animals and characters. A parrot, four quail, three dogs, a cat, two amicable Irishman, a Sharon Stone-esque Aussie chick called Thea and a whole bunch of 'crayshy' Dutchmen.

We were up early the day after we arrived to visit Tikal. It's the largest classical city of the Mayan civilisation. It's big. Huge in fact. People told us it was big, but until you get there, you don't realise how big. Imagine the list of debtors for the Michael Jackson estate, double it, and you're beginning to get there.

We hired a guide called Donald. We had him all to ourselves. He took us all around the site, telling us about the history and pointing out various fauna and flora. We climbed the vertiginous temples. He showed us bush herbs. We saw monkeys. The sign said they sometimes throw poo at you, but they seemed more interested in swinging about a bit.

But that was two days ago. Now, we're holed up here in our swamp, near the banks of the Rio Dulce. We're here with an amazingly cool American couple – Bryce and Laura – and an adventurous Dutch girl called Frankie. There was a group of Isrealis, but they left early, complaining of mosquitos. What do you expect in a swamp?

Last night, Bryce, Frankie and me crashed a party at another house across the swamp. The three of us got there in our two-man dinghy. We played lots of drinking games and drank lots of rum. I´m not quite sure how we got back again, but come the morning I was back in my bed. Obviously beer scooters still work in swamps.

It's hot. Guatemala is hot. Clothes seem to serve the purpose of soaking up sweat here. If ever there was a country where national nudism would make sense, it's Guatemala. That were if it weren't for the insects. They like to bite exposed flesh.

The entertainment options here in our swamp are:

1. Read
2. Write
3. Play 'Sally's Spa' on your iPod (Rachel only activity)
4. Eat
5. Sleep
6. Kayak out into the lake and swim
7. Drink rum

There is no internet, no TV and no radio. Just the swamp and us.

There is a bartender. He is a Swiss man and he owns the place. He doesn't talk much. Sometimes I catch him staring into space, not moving. Maybe it's the swamp doing strange things to his mind.

The malaria tablets are giving me strange dreams. A few nights ago, I dreamt about Nicky Hilton's house under a shopping mall, an incredible airport atop a mountain in Scotland called Chlorine (the only airport in the world where you gain altitude to land) and Bruce Willis' wife making a big social faux pas in front of George Bush's (black) daughters at Prince Harry's garden party. Who needs TV?

Meanwhile, we wait in our swamp. We are waiting for the border with Honduras to open. A week ago the military staged a peaceful coup, ejecting the President. Everybody seems to have got quite upset about it, so the end result is we can't cross the border until they sort it out. The lady at the travel agent in Livingston (a town only accessible by boat) seems to think it'll take 72 hours. Once that's done, we'll head to the Bay Islands by boat to do some diving.

Until then, it's just us, the insects and the swamp.

Luckily, we've lots of rum.

Aaaar.

PS. Rachel doesn't think it's a swamp. She says it's mangroves, in a rainforest. Personally, I prefer to call it a swamp. It sounds more piratey.

For a whole host more swampy pics, plus some ones of a waterfall we visited and some other places, click here