Long time, no being in awesome locales. Until now.

I’m currently en route from Central America. Some may simply call my jaunt a vacation. I call it a medical expense. I threw some D’s on my sh*t! Vitamin D’s, that is! F*ck you, rickets!

Ahem. Anyway, look!

There’s a boat in Caye Caulker, Belize, called the Sexy Chicken.

Yes, Caye Caulker is the T-I-T-S. It’s the sexy chicken, in fact. Still not overrun by hordes of tourists who travel in large packs (I believe the technical term is “tools,” as in “tools of tourists” much like “schools of fish”), Caye Caulker is a tiny, little island joint that offers diving, snorkeling, beachfront property for the price of an Extra Value Meal and delicious meals of fresh seafood for the dollarmenuaire. In short, it’s unBELIZEable! (LOLZ!)

Like I said, f*ck you, rickets!


The only motorized vehicles allowed on the island? Golf carts!


Yes, the Caulk is so cool that even DJ Flex Nigga spins there. Now, I’m not familiar with Mr. Flex Nigga’s work, but I’m hoping he’s the one who sings one of my taxi drivers’ favorite songs, which just so happens to boast what I believe to be the classiest lyrics in the history of music: “I love your vagina/ I want to treat it like porcelain china.” Instant classic.

But more impressive, perhaps, than the awesomeness of English-speaking Belize (and lyrics about lady goods), is Spanish-speaking Guatemala, which is easy and cheap as el inferno to get to via bus. Five hours and a couple of stamps later, we found ourselves on the island of Flores, which is situated in the middle of Lake Petén Itza.

Even the awesome fray on my jorts is smiling!

It’s hard to Belize (sorry, I got Belize puns for days and nary a Guate pun in sight!) that Guatemala is one of the poorest countries in Central America after spending a couple days in Flores. This joint’s sh*t is tight and not just because you can get lakefront views in a respectable hotel for about $10 per person per night (see above). It’s tight because it reminded me of the neighborhood of La Candelaria in Bogotá, which is probably one of my favorite locales on this particular planet. The streets are small and cobble-stoned; the buildings are bright and Technicolor; and the people are helpful to the point where if you leave your wallet on a bus seat, the person will follow you out to give it back to you…WITH THE CASH STILL IN IT! Um, not that I’m prone to that brand of shambles or anything…

What I am prone to, however, is being served burritos four times the size of a grown man’s fist!

Flores, you rule.

And speaking of rules (that is, breaking the rules of common sense), did you ever feel the need to let a drunk Guatemalan tie you to a zipline 100 feet off the ground and give you a nudge?

I did.

Isn’t my Spanish simply awkwardly amazing? Hey, at least l’m still alive to tell this spectacular tale…

Although, as spectacular as a crunk Guatemalan zipline operator is, he’s still not quite as spectacular as Tikal, which are the largest Mayan ruins next to Mexico’s Chichinitza. And after that introduction, please to behold my totally underwhelming photos. Um…

My camera is what you might call totally buns.

Because I know you’re all wondering, yes, I did dry-hump this giant rodent.

The weirdest tree in the world.

It’s much scarier and steeper and higher than it looks…

Cutting stones with machetes!

The only thing that would make Tikal cooler is if Method Man was at the top of the Temple of the Jaguar performing his version, Tical, which is, apparently, about marijuana laced with LSD and not Mayan culture. OR IS IT!? PASS IT OVA HERE THEN! (Although, just say no, children.)

But seriously, after Inca-ing myself out in Peru a few months ago, it was surprisingly refreshing to visit some Mayan junk. (I say that affectionately, of course.) It’s interesting that the two cultures seemed to hold many of the same things sacred even though they had no contact with each other. The only major difference, from what my dumb-ass could gather, was that the Mayan ruins offered up more opportunities to peep flora and fauna. And by “peep,” I mean dry hump (see above). Oh, and also listen to your guide become a howler monkey whisperer.

Gawd, those things are so frighteningly Smoke Monster-esque that I nearly soiled my jorts. Keyword: Nearly.

And speaking of my jorts, look how f*cking good they look brew-attacking in Poptún, Guatemala.

And, yes, this was the kind of trip where you wear jorts everyday, just in case you’re wondering. It was also the kind of trip where even if your first option falls through, in all likelihood, your second option will be even better. Which brings me to some recommendations if you ever find yourself in this area and the first useful tips I think I’ve ever provided on this Web log.


Caye Caulker

Stay at Ignacio’s. This place is probably what most people would describe a sh*thole, but for true island life, it was just perfect. For about $15 a night, you’ll get a cabana directly on the beach with running water. Sure, it might be cold, but what the hell are you wasting your time showering for on a tropical island when you could be snorkeling, diving or eating delicious ceviche?

On that note, you should eat at the restaurant attached to the Tropical Paradise hotel, although don’t stay here because it’s not as freshly dipped as Ignacio’s and it’s a lot more expensive. Anyway, for about $7, I got a barracuda steak! Ooo, barracuda! Yums.

Flores, Guatemala

We found a random sleeping spot called Hotel Mirador del Lago thanks to a tuk-tuk driver. Their normal rooms are janky, but the lakefront rooms are worth the extra, uh, $10, which will double your price, but yeah. Twenty bones ain’t bad. You saw the balcony, right? Right.

Also, when you’re here, avoid the pastas, which are for some reason ubiquitous, and instead order the local Mayan specialties or A BURRITO QUADRUPLE THE SIZE OF A GROWN MAN’S FIST at La Villa del Chef. Mmm.

Poptún, Guatemala

Poptún really surprised everyone. Not only did our first accommodation option fall through, but our second one turned out to be the absolute best hotel that may exist in Guatemala. Well, not in terms of luxury amenities (the toilet had some, um, problems), but the ambiance was absolutely perfect. The place is called Villa de los Castellanos and it’s an ecological hotel, meaning they’re all hippie-friendly and organic and solar-powered and sheeit. The best part, though, was the nature it’s surrounded by. It’s set up cabana-style and each spot has a tight front porch. It’s the same porch I’m chillaxin’ in in the above jorts’n’brew pic. I think a cabana went for about $20 a night or so. Also, this joint has the worst marketing on Earth in that they don’t advertise at all. Once again, thank you, random tuk-tuk driver for bringing us there. If you want to go, the telephone number is 7867-4773 (minus the country codes, which I’ll let Google find for you).

As far as spending time and eating, the place to do that is Finca Ixobel. This is the place we originally wanted to stay, but found was all booked up (thank Dios) when we arrived. But if you want to go caving or eat a decent meal of food, this is the place to do it. I recommend the mixed berry yogurt smoothie and the avocado chicken sandwich. We ordered beans on the side, naturally, and they were fantastic.

But now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go back to trying not to punch the toddler in the face next to me for playing with his noisy toy without the sound off. Isn’t being stuck at the Houston airport fun? Actually, it is when you voluntarily give up your seat and receive $250 toward another ticket, as well as a first class seat on the next flight because Continental overbooked their rigid airship. I BELIZE I CAN FLY. I BELIZE I CAN TOUCH THE SKY! Haha, yes? Like I said, Belize puns for days. You’re welcome.