I couldn't take it anymore. I mean, I need my ass right? If it ended
up staying numb forever then how could I ever appreciate a good sofa
again? Nine hours in a hiace van from San pedros to Coban was enough.
I could do the two slow, windy hours to lanquin the next day. I needed
relief.

That's how I ended up in Coban, lovingly described in the lonely
planet ("LP" or "the bible") as "not so much an attraction in
itself...", in the rain. Cold rain at that. May as well have been in
Ireland, at least there I would have a warm bed and a mammy ready with
a roast chicken sandwich and a glass of the latest super value red
wine if the month.

As it was I was alone in coban, slightly damp LP in hand, trying to
find hostel chipi chipi (closed down), followed by hostel jam bamboo
(doesn't exist) before hotel la Paz proved the bible can be right at
least 33% of the time.

I settled into my private room and tried to convince myself that the
mcdonalds I'd spotted on the drive in was a bad idea. It's amazing how
a seemingly intelligent person with all sorts of letters after his
name can have a debate like this with himself and still have no
conclusion after half an hour.

Only thing to do was to go for a wander with the bible and some
quetzals and try sort out a plan for the week. The town itself was
dark, wet and dirty. I was tired and grumpy. We agreed that I'd do my
business as quickly as possible then I'd leave it alone to get on with
being "not so much an attraction"...

Target one: Internet cafe. God forbid I go more than 24 hours without
reading the Irish times. Target two: pollo campero, a guatemalan kfc
which I justified as being a compromise between mcdonalds and
Guatemalan cuisine. It is Guatemalan owned after all. Target three:
bed. Easy.

That was yesterday.

I'm now sitting in a thatched hut beside a fast flowing river,
cappucino in hand, cinnamon roll in belly, listening to the white
noise of Israelis garbling in Hebrew and watching the hens cluck their
way around the garden. It's overcast but not raining, warm and not
cold but at the same time it's cold but not warm. Is there a word for
that temperature? Answers on a postcard please to al c/o el retiro.

The bus here was by definition a chicken bus as there was indeed a
live chicken in a plastic bag one row in front of me. The chicken was
joined by three adults and five kids all in the same row. The bus made
frequent stops to squeeze more people on and to fix the cling film
that passed as a window by the passenger seat. I had the pleasure of
being warmed by a genial hombre gordo to my left and the crotch of a
thinly moustached chico to my right. At one stage I also had a tamale
carrying woman by my feet and another leaning in front of me whose
odour was a skillful mix of a few weeks worth of sweat and fresh
coriander. With companions like these the need for heating was
eliminated.

This is how I justified spending €1.50 on a cinnamon roll and a
coffee. Sometimes I deserve it, right? The plan for today us to
perhaps lie on a hammock, maybe gave a poke online, chill out if you
will. Tomorrow I'm doing a tour of the caves and water pools. That's
the reason I put myself through all those buses. It had better be good!

Until next time....