Tikal and Belize

Please press play to hear the sounds of the Oropendola.


Patrick, one of Alex’s old Peace Corps buddies, met up with us for a trip through the Mayan ruins in Tikal and an adventure through the western part of Belize. The Tikal photos speak for themselves—it amazes me that we were still allowed to climb up monuments that are thousands of years old. I brought my sound recorder to collect the distinct sounds of wildlife in the rainforest, specifically the oropendola, that have made a community of basket-like nests on a tree in the Grand Plaza. Sitting in the Grand Plaza at sundown, when the Temple of the Jaguar is bathed in golden light makes the Chicago winter we escaped from seem like a distant memory.




The next morning we headed for the Belize border. The heat makes everyone a bit dreary, add a barely-held-together Nissan-turned-taxi, on a scorched, makeshift dirt road, and we began to wonder if we would find the paradise we set out for.

We wanted a place to stay that afforded some natural beauty, while not being too far away from the city of San Ignacio, where we could get our necessary staples. Alex knew of a small town named Bullet Tree, that he’d been to once before, so we headed down another rocky dirt path, where rows of elementary school children, in their pink and blue uniforms, held classes in the shade.  A few more twists and turns, passed seemingly empty lots, and we end up at the Cohune Palms, an intimate, family owned cluster of thatched roof huts, owned by a local Rastafarian and his wife from Idaho. We shed our luggage, and hungrily dove into the Mopan River that was the perfect shade of green. Home-cooked meals, good company and tubing down the river made our week satisfying at our own pace. Plus, iguana sightings, especially during the morning hours (they sunned themselves on the grass next to where we ate breakfast!) never got old. After we found our own secluded paradise, a trip into San Ignacio for dinner and drinks seemed touristy and all too unnecessary.