We woke up a little worse for wear, (and I had defo. caught a chill from our midnight swim), but still feeling quite zesty for our next spot. After a bus and precarious boat ride later, we arrived at our new home on Río Dulce…

I was not ready for the level of beauty that Río Dulce was giving. We stayed at the unreal Hacienda Tijax which is a quintessential jungle lodge: bridges connecting rooms to one another and the lobby, logs adorning the inside of rooms and hella bugs biting up your legs. After settling in, some decided to stay back whilst a group of us headed to Livingston. The boat ride over was a little over an hour and it was, (I cannot stress this enough), the most breathtaking boat ride I had ever been on. Every time we would round a bend, it was like being in a movie. The landscape looked like a green screen, with lush forest encircling us on the gentle blue water. We passed Castillo de San Felipe, which was an old Spanish fortress/prison which is said to have housed pirates. We travelled through the mangroves, bird island and mirror lake: this is the point on the river where the water is so still it perfectly mirrors the land above.

Eventually we arrived in Livingston and headed to the one restaurant we had been recommended. By random chance, two girls who went to find cash met Philip Flores. It seems that anyone who has been to Livingston has met Philip and there’s good reason. He knows everything there is to know about Livingston, the Garifuna and the history of the black people who have been living there.

Livingston, (or La Buga in Garifuna), is the last place in Guatemala to have a significant black population. There’s conflicting stories as to how they ended up there but there are a few theories. Some believe they are descendents from freed slaves, some believe they were slaves being taken to the Caribbean who were shipwrecked and found themselves in Livingston, others say it’s a combination of all of the above. Whatever the origin story is, the black population lived here pretty well and peacefully until the Guatemalan civil war, when many of Mayan descent were forced to flee to the coastal town of Livingston. The Garifuna, (the culture and language of the black people of Livingston), were marginalised and there has been tension between the two groups ever since.

He took us on a little walk-about of the area. It was a Sunday so most things were closed but without that distraction, we were able to take in just how poor those living there were, yet everyone greeted us with a smile and a wave. We listened to Philip tell us about his life, the history and we each gave him a little change as a thank-you for giving us a tour and for the work he does with feeding children.

I thought a lot about Philip and the people of Livingston on the way back whilst watching the sunset. It seems that black people everywhere are always dealt the ass cards. On one hand I imagine that, before the war, the Garifuna lived quite comfortably in Livingston with the best lands the area had to offer. On the other hand, fleeing a war cannot be easy and just the sheer number of people looking for safety likely contributed. My rumination was interrupted by a very aggressive rain storm which soaked us all to our actual core.

The next day was a very special day: it was Nav’s birthday! We sang happy birthday to her in the lobby and Elicia gave her the card she had made herself. Our first stop of the day was El Boquerón canyon. Driving over, we passed vast palm oil and banana plantations with some livestock roaming around. El Boquerón is a canyon which, (like everything in Guatemala), is beautiful. We slowly assembled in the tiniest, rockiest boats I have ever seen and prayed we wouldn’t capsize before we got to the main attraction. Paddling up, you can see the rock formations either side of you with one jutting out that looks exactly like a face. We eventually made it to the rocks where the fun, anxiety producing, activity of jumping off began. Eventually the daredevils, (I stayed my ass on a little rock very far away), tired themselves out and we swam, (read: walked and let the current do its thing), back down to the bus. We were supposed to go to the thermal waterfall, but there was a film crew there who spoiled our fun.

That night, we surprised Nav with a mermaid piñata, (who was named Melanie), and had dinner at a cute local roadside restaurant. They served us a flaming shot of God-knows what whilst singing cumpleaños feliz, Nav had 1,000 piña coladas and the three of us cried ourselves to sleep with laughter after a gorgeous, gorgeous day.