We spent a day in Costa Rica sorting our flights. This involved a trip to the airport, 2 hours at the local American Airlines office and an hours phone call to Quantas in Miami (not cheap). Eventually we managed to re-route our flight. we are now not flying from Cancun in Mexico but from Belize. From here we fly to Miami and catch a BA flight home.

Yesterday we did our big leap northwards. It involved 3 separate flights first from Costa Rica to San Salvador, then on to Guatemala city. From there we caught a dinky little turbo-prop airoplane to Flores which is where we are now.

We are at 17 degrees north and 90 degrees west. It’s markedly different in climate than Costa Rica. It’s hot and humid. We are staying in a little village called El Remate by lake Petan Itza in the jungle. The food is different too. Everything (including breakfast) comes with corn tortillas. Having spent 3 months on them in the past they now make Patrice retch at their smell. It makes a nice change for her to be picky although her response is similar to that expected of a 5 year old.

Tomorrow we visit the Mayan ruins of Tikal, a series of steep-sided temples rising out of the jungle. The Myans have been around here since 700BC.

We have 7 days left now and were planning on going to Belize for some last minute diving. It’s one of the best dive centres in the world. It’s also the most expensive and we are broke. It’s going to be Parrots and jungle for as long as we can then a 5 hour drive to Belize city for the long ride home.

After an 8 hour bus trip we arrived in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. Aware of it’s reputation as a dump we decided to catch another bus to the nearby town of Alajuela. We were advised that this was a much nicer town and more Gringo friendly. A barrage of taxi drivers were keen to charge us 2000 of the splendid Costa Rican currency for the short ride across town to the other bus station. After much discussion we found a driver who reluctantly set his meter. A short drive later we were charge 780 and were on our second bus.

Within 15 minutes we arrived in the town of Alajuela. We soon found the Hostel xxxx which was recommended. We were met by a monosyllabic youth who welcomed us with grunts and reluctant glances from his computer screen. After a few minutes of friendly banter (from us) he sighed and removed his earphones. What a splendid introduction to a fascinating town. Before signing the register the youth tried to establish what tours he could sell to make his commission. Sadly he got none.

We were hungry and decided to see what culinary delights Alajuela had to offer. As we stumbled along the streets we were amazed by the choice. Ricci Pollo, McDonalds, Apollo Pollo, Don’s Pollo, KFC, Mary’s Pollo, McDonalds (another), Pollo Pun, Pun on Pollo, Cluck Cluck Pollo, KFC (another one), Pizza Hut and at least another 50 places with Pollo in the title. These were mean streets particularly if you were a Chicken or a food nutrionist. We eventually found a Chinese and sat down to look at the menu. It was a fried chicken establishment with a few fried Chinese dishes thrown in for effect. We left. After about half an hour we passed a first floor gym with glass windows and an aerobics class in full swing. The room pounded to a mass of obese people wondering how they had got that way. After about half an hour we found a suitable establishment and sat on a balcony overlooking the town square. A youth serenaded his girlfriend singing to his mobile phone as we ate our Big Macs.

After dinner we took a stroll in the town. It has a number of architectural points of note. At the end of nearly all pavements are huge open spaces where perhaps there were once man hole covers. Unlit these lead down to the sewers. The town is built on a grid system and so every 100 metres or so traffic vies for supremacy at crossroads with small stumps where perhaps there were once traffic lights. We stumbled back towards our hostel making best use of the small pools of occasionally working street lights. En-route we admired the many different ways in which house holders and businesses alike had created lethal fence toppings. An abundance of razor wire seemed popular as did the eco-friendly glass in concrete. We saw a young man around fifteen perhaps with one shoe and no top rifling through some bins and a passing taxi driver gave out a loud drug induced groan/shout for no apparent reason. What a wonderfully authentic experience we were having.

We slept well and in the morning listened to two separate stories from travellers of armed kidnap in Nicaragua (not going). We spent the day travelling between airport, American Airlines office and internet establishment. After an hour of travelling, two hours of waiting and an hour on the phone to Quantas in Miami we are now flying out of Belize and not Cancoon in Mexico. We are already tired to looking at the ineffective surgical masks.