Last week, I escaped the tourist throngs of Tulum by haggling for space cakes with a vagrant on a Mexican beach. This week would be my last, as I savoured the final few days of my voyage in the capital, before boarding a Boeing back to Britain.
Last week, I explored the enigmatic nation of Belize – surviving encounters with stingrays, sharks and, even more terrifyingly, Queen Elizabeth II. This week, I ate El Chapo's weight in tacos and tortillas as I went cenote-hopping and ruin-trekking along Mexico’s trendy tail.
Last week, I got moist in a large river and moister in a larger lake before travelling the height of Guatemala in search of some forested relics. This week belongs to Belize, as I spent the week travelling through a miniature corner of the Caribbean – patting sharks and consuming crustaceans along the way.
Last week, I spluttered and scrambled my way to the highpoint, and highlight, of my Central American voyage (and possibly of all my travels) thus far: the summit of Volcan de Acatenango. This week would be my last in Guatemala (and last with dipsomaniac companions Tuur and Bri), as we let our barnets down by a lake before I went in search of Mayans in the mystical north.
Last week, I spotted some elaborate plumage amongst ancient ruins (no not Elton John and David Furnish), before enduring an inordinate number of hours of local transport to reach a surfing utopia. This week is all about volcanoes, as I set myself the biggest challenge I will face on my entire journey: to get within marshmallow-toasting range of Fuego – one of the most active beasts in the world.
Last week, I reluctantly slid down the youngest volcano in Central America before attempting to sightsee in some of the most murderous cities on planet earth (not including Tunbridge Wells). This week, I search for a pair of waterfalls in two different nations as I hit the windswept Pacific Coast for the final time.
Last week, I crawled my way up two giants on the mystical island of Ometepe before attempting to dodge bullets in the capital. This week, I left a nation that has been highly unstable since April, for one that has been highly unstable for the last fifty years. Better keep my bullet-proof long johns on.
Last week, I couchsurfed across the Costa Rican capital, before stalking simians and reptiles along its western shores. This week, I began my journey through a new nation, as I reached unprecedented heights on the island of voodoo and velociraptors.
Last week, I entered Costa Rica, in the hope that the rainy season would abate for just long enough to spot a sloth anywhere other than the confines of a downtown nightclub. This week, I crawled my way around the country – from couch to couch – as I experienced the munificence and uniqueness of Central American hospitality. Chiliguaro anyone?
