Lilli Cloud

I awoke this morning before dawn to the now familiar sound of roosters crowing. Everything in this country starts early. Even the roosters don’t know to wait until sunrise. Fortunately, I was lulled back to sleep by a tropical shower pattering on the palapa roof of my little hut.

This helped cool things off a bit too, which was a relief. I think the heat wave that made me comfortable in Xela has made me more uncomfortable here in the tropics. I don’t remember it being this hot last time I was in Livingston. Last night I stuck to the cotton sheets. Just when I got stuck into a comfortable position, I heard a mosquito going right for my neck, so I dragged myself back up to unfurl the moquito net above my bed. This level of exertion led to profuse sweating, so I hope it was worth it, but it’s hard to know if you didn’t catch malaria because of that, or because the mosquitos were friendly.

By the time I actually did get up this morning, it was still quiet enough that I could hear the parrot in the neighborhood chatting up a storm. Hola! Hola! Hola! it was insistent, like it was greeting every person, dog or cat that walked by.

I’m sure my new friend would have been happy to talk to the parrot, as he was very chatty with me last night. Rubén, who is 8 years old, was a guest of the hotel owner. He spent a good part of the evening before dinner running back and forth out to the end of the dock to talk with me. I was camped out in a hammock under the gazebo, watching night fall. The light from the town behind a hill across the river lit up the sky so the clouds looked like an oil painting. It was tempting to try to touch them. But my friend was more interestinged in talking and was happy to have a conversation partner, even though I missed about one third of what he said. He loves Barney and sang the Barney song for me, in Spanish, which sounds just as bad in another language. Later he insisted I come and meet his baby brother, 8 months, and his mom and dad.

He came back out after dinner where I was sitting on the dock watching the stars, which look different from here. I’m pretty sure he was explaining the creation story to me. He kept telling me his grandma told me about all the things Jesus did and God made, much having to do with the stars. This morning when I got on the boat to leave, he wanted to know when I would be back. I don’t think children really have a language barrier.

This morning I splurged and took a private tour of Rio Dulce, one of the most spectacular places in the country. I wanted to go much earlier than the collectivo, plus you never know when those are really going to go anyway. It cost me twice as much as my hotel tonight, but it was worth it. At first I felt like a queen all by myself in a boat with a driver and his helper, especially when we passed little boys and fishermen in dugout wooden canoes. But then a huge yacht sped past and threw waves up at everyone, so I guess there are all levels of society. It’s just good to be polite regardless of where you fit.

Rio Dulce is home to many yachts, some of which are enormous. Many are owned by foreigners who stop in here during hurricane season and other times. There are incredible houses along the river, owned by foreigners and the Guatemalan elite for a weekend getaway. The contrast between the one room, thatched roof huts in many of the villages is extreme, to say the least.

But the natural beauty of the river is incredible. From Livingston, the river leads to a deep gorge where the jungle climbs up the walls, a sea of green so thick it looks like you couldn’t cut it with a machete. We passed through mangrove swamps and seas of lily pads, which here are called nymphs. We visited bird island, where thousands nest and iguanas soak up the sun hoping to catch an egg snack.

Towards the town of Rio Dulce, the river widens into what looks like an enormous lake. By this time we were zipping along. Flocks of black birds flew by in a straight line formation just above the water. It looked like they were making a pier, like you could use them for stepping stones in the sky. The ones farther away looked like a Japanese ink drawing, where the wings are just a stroke of the pen.

It was a fabulous three hours. Then I landed in the town of Rio Dulce just in time to catch the express bus to Flores. It was an actual pleasure to ride on the fancy bus with air conditioning and onboard baño. I’ve been promised an onboard baño before, but they never seem to materialize. And it was much better than the bus I took a couple of years ago, which was the chicken bus version of a coach.

Faster too. The fancy bus only stopped occasionally to pick people up, and once to wait for a herd of cows to get out of the road. I guess I’ve been in ranch country the last couple of days because I keep seeing billboards with pictures of cows on them that say, “Necesita semilla?” Need seed?