Where the f**k is the finca? (January 16 -17 2010)

We are making our way down to the Rio Dulce in Southern Guatemala and we had heard of an “interesting” traveller’s hangout called Finca Ixobel which was near Poptun about 100kms from Flores and about half way to Rio Dulce, so decide to drop in. Not sure of how to get there, so we go to the bus station and figure it out from there.  But no need – we and our increasingly large backpacks get into a tuk tuk for the bus station and when we tell the driver where we are aiming, we are whizzed into the bus station and deposited at yet another minbus who, for 40 Quetzales each (about £3), promises to take us the 100 kms and drop us off at the door of the Finca.  We had negotiated this in our best Spanish so were really not too sure what exactly we had been promised but went anyway….  Great we thought as we left in a nearly empty minibus, we can spread out.  Yet again, we are wrong.  The driver crawls along the street as the “conductor” leans out shouting “Poptun” “Dolores” – more and more passengers get in.  We then stop in the middle of the bustling market as they try and get more trade.  Sitting in a minibus in the heaving market is a great place to shop – the goods come to you.  We were offered everything from food, to fruit, to mops and brushes to toothpaste.  Our favourite though was the mobile “Boots the Chemist” who proffered his dusty basket of various (we are assuming legal….) pharmaceuticals and bottles of “nerve” tonic….  Sadder though was the lady clutching a child who was waving her recently issued prescriptions – she was trying to get the money to pay for them so she could get the medicine the child needed.

But the conductor still tried to fill up the van before he would leave.  Finally it filled up and off we went.  It was cosy but not too bad, but we couldn’t work out why he was still shouting to people on the roadside….  We discover yet again that “full” minibus in Guatemala is not “full” until every inch of space is taken.  Another first for us – all seats taken and another ten or so people actually standing up with their shopping and blocks of wood filling every available space – it’s a good job they are not tall people – and brings a whole new meaning to standing room only…..

As we approach Poptun about 2 hours later the minibus gradually empties as passengers are dropped off.  And our Spanish is better than we thought – after everyone gets off in the town we are taken the additional five kms to the Finca Ixobel and dropped off at the door.

What a place!  For the princely sum of £8 a night we each have a room (with electricity and hot water…..) and a private bathroom.  It’s set in two acres of ground surrounded by jungle and had little bungalows and tree houses dotted around.  Some of the rooms are dorms and some people just sleep outside in hammocks and use the “jungle shower”….  It has the feel of a hippy commune, but has an on site bakery and good wholesome food.  Dinner is en masse (well about twenty people last night) and whatever you eat or drink (and hooray, there was reasonable wine…..) you just write down in the honesty book.

It’s a cluster of rustic buildings in a rural setting.   There are lots of activities here, cave trips, river trips, treks etc. Not ones for guide and the like we took a self guided walk to Cerro Witz, a neighbouring hill.  They had no maps for us, which should have been the first warning.  But being intrepid traveller’s, we were pointed in the right direction and off we went.  The first bit rewarded us with a great view atop the hill.  We carried on and had to make a decision – we made the wrong one!  We found ourselves, armed with only two stout sticks and no machete, pushing our way through thick jungle, following the river (well stream, actually…..) but it was getting thicker and thicker and it was getting later and later with sunset just across the horizon.  Ant was facing his fear of lurking snakes as we bashed the ground with our sticks to hopefully frighten them off….  Gill became convinced that we were about to be attacked by a group of wild boar….. It was at that point that we both independently said the title of this blog……  Next time, note to self, take a compass…….

Tired but safe we return to our commune – we help ourselves to cake and tea and remember to enter it in the honesty book.  We met four Canadians and chat pre dinner.  Then an amazing dinner around a long wooden table (and we had sprouts!!!).  The Finca has a “pool” about 500 metres from the main area - a natural rock pool where there is a bar that opens at 9pm.  So that time we wend our way across by the light of Ant’s torch and sit like a group of aging hippies around an outdoor roaring log fire, drinking  wine and swapping bigger and bigger traveller’s tales!   It was our latest night on this entire trip and we were having a ball.

We got on really well with Christine and Rick and Matt and Rosemary and we hung about with them the next day as we relaxed around the finca eating more good food.   In fact we did nothing but eat, drink, pontiificate and hold court.  Rick and Christine (Hi guys if you are reading this) had a beautiful phrase – Backpacker Children, for the young, fresh faced backpackers (in contrast to us Backpacker pensioners!)  Ant was the only active one who did go for a ride in the morning.

This is Ant – ride was great, a few hours in a western saddle was enough though!  Only me and a local guide ( who spoke no English) made for a beautiful quite morning ride, through small farms and very poor villages, children hacking at bush with huge machetes (best learn young) a few canters and mercifully no trotting made for a perfect ride.