Guatemala’s Cahabón River flows down the tiny valley of Semuc Champey like a shotgun slug. The streams from the valley fall into seven cascading pools of turquoise, so still you can hear the monkeys in the forest. While underground, the river writhes and thrashes through a limestone labyrinth, erupting from a cavern a half-mile away. They used to lower tourists over the edge with a rope; they stopped when a German died.
In Guatemala, it takes someone getting killed before they force you to stop doing something awesome.
Guides in the modest Semuc Champey take you into the bowels of caves with nothing but a candle and then let you jump into the water from a 30-foot bridge. But even Tikal, the granddaddy of Mayan ruins, only recently stopped allowing tourists to ascend its highest ziggurat on the original stone steps…after someone fell down and died.
I almost got killed by a falling tree when I tried to climb a volcano in a rainstorm, but that was just plain dumb.
Nestled in the choke of Central America, Guatemala is a poor man’s Costa Rica, or rather, a college student’s Costa Rica. It has the same jungle waterfalls, sputtering volcanoes and ruined cities, but they are all viewable on $20 to $30 a day and without the guardrails, artificial lighting, or guards who say, “No, you can’t creep out onto that ledge for a better look.”
In a way, you get what you pay for. You won’t find many posh resorts or botanical rainforest safaris outside of Antigua (the country’s one really developed place). It’s a life of backpacker dorms and bottled water, where a hot shower is a treat and your bus just may have live chickens shoved in the luggage rack.
But it has something you can’t find in the air-conditioned bungalows of Costa Rica and Cancun. It’s a spirit that arises amidst those backpacker dorms and rundown Internet cafés. In this world, a perfect stranger can become your tightest comrade, and a romance can blossom in a night. Those who travel here are young people who have nothing better to do than enjoy themselves, who spend their days having adventures and their nights swapping stories over poker and bad beer.
In a pub on the volcanic Lake Atitlan, a Swedish girl told me about a guy who busted his arm when he drunkenly rolled off his bunk. It happened in a town 90 miles away, and she heard the story in Honduras. We met the guy minutes later, cast and all. True story.
As far as Third World travel goes, Guatemala is actually pretty gentle. The hostels are often run by Europeans and Americans, usually old-time shoe-stringers themselves, with good food and a staff of other travelers working for room and board. The country’s small size means you can get almost anywhere in half a day. Some even travel with laptops – unthinkable in rougher destinations like India and West Africa.
But it’s still the third world, and it isn’t exactly the place for a spring break getaway. Save it for the summer or Christmas, and give it at least two weeks. Fortunately, there are loads of options for longer-term stints beyond straight vagabonding. The country is riddled with volunteer opportunities, especially around Lake Atitlan, and Antigua is famous for its Spanish schools.
Safer than Honduras and Nicaragua but cheaper than Costa Rica and Mexico, Guatemala is just right for the college traveler. It’s full of adventure, with none of the handholding. And don’t worry – you won’t die. (So long as you don’t climb a volcano in a rainstorm.)
