This is another part of Guatemala that I have not yet seen, the Caribbean side of the country.  Here’s a bit of good news, one can fly to Puerto Barrios from Guatemala City for not much more than you’d pay for one of those patented eight hour shuttle rides.  Not a hard choice.  It takes forty five minutes.

The day started with a fizzle.  We were sitting in the plane on the tarmac, when instead of a seat belts and tray tables announcement, we got an everybody off.   A tropical storm was blowing right through Puerto Barrios, (henceforth known as PB), and they wanted us to hold takeoff until further instructions.  An hour and some change later we left.  When we got to PB it was pouring rain.  I’m talkin’ torrential.  Ok, here’s where I remind you that this is not the size town and airport with jetways.  I was soaked before I even got to the terminal.  Well to be fair, everyone was.  That was only the beginning.  This is the street outside the municipal boat docks.

If you look on a map, both PB and Livingston, my final destination, are situated in a fairly large bay.  There are no roads to speak of connecting any of the towns along the coast.  Travel is all by boat.  See where I’m going with this?

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t venture out on today’s swells in a launch twice the size of these water taxis.  But hey, what do I know.  Well, actually, I know you try to get in the middle of the seat.  Not in the front but close to it.  There were two young mothers with young boys loading right by me, so chivalry won out.  Oh, did I mention that while we were waiting to leave it was not raining.  But just as we were loading, …………… 😉     Here’s a word picture for ya.  Remember those Gallagher shows where everyone in the first several rows had big sheets of plastic they held in front of themselves.  When they broke out the sheets of plastic, the two moms, between their English and my Spanish, coached me through what was happening.  If you’re in an outside seat, all your best efforts go for naught.  Forty minutes of bouncing on the swells in driving rain and before long I was sitting in water trying to decide which was better, protecting my face or protecting my stuff.  I chose my stuff which was also for naught.  Luckily my laptop compartment is waterproof, but the rest of the backpack is not.  One of the differences between buying more expensive gear and not.  When I got to my hotel and I was unpacking, everything was wet.  I even had to hang up my wallet.  By now I’m guessing you might be thinking two things; did I think about waiting for a later launch, and was I in the middle of a major grumpy old man incident.  Yes, and no.  Waiting didn’t strike me as holding much promise, and by the time I was unpacking, the whole thing was so over the top, and I was so in love with where I was, I was almost laughing out loud.

Livingston is a popular vacation destination.  But make no mistake about its place on the Caribbean.  This is not The Riviera Maya.  The town  is predominantly dirt poor and it lacks that contrast between local life and well appointed all inclusives found elsewhere.  My hotel, La Casa Rosada, is pure bohemian.  Not even shabby chic, ’cause you wouldn’t put the word chic anywhere near its description.  There are a lot of things about it that would have many gringo vacationers checking out after the first night.  I really don’t want to belabor the examples but my door is a screen door with a small window and curtain.  It has a hasp and a padlock.  I love it.  I discovered I’ve missed the ocean.  This is my kinda place.  Someone turn in my thirty day notice in St. Paul. 🙂

Above is my room.  It’s even tinier than it looks.  And the rain pouring  off everything.  I took this shot from the dining area.  When there was a break in the action, some pics from a walkabout.

As I’m finishing this post it’s almost 2:30 in the morning.  I got up so I could hog all the bandwidth and get my pictures uploaded.  Can’t wait to see how long it takes to get the whole post uploaded.

After a beautiful full moon evening it’s now raining hard again.  Not to worry, more later.