October 25, 2012, Guatemala. Looking at flights, I decided to head to Belize with a short stay in San Salvador. At the airport, I had wanted to explore the surrounding countryside, but was told it was much too dangerous to leave the confines of the airstrip. An enterprising man offered to take me on an hour ride around San Salvador and down to the beach where we saw a sea turtle hatchery. It was nice to get out, although he charged a steep fare. He told me he could be my personal driver if I ever came back to explore El Salvador. I salivated at the thought. What an amazing adventure!

A short while later, I boarded a plane to Belize. I took a small boat to a tiny sand spit of an island, Caye Caulker, where I met locals descended from enslaved Africans who had escaped and built lives there. I took a boat One night we shared a beautiful meal of fish, plantains, beans, and coconut rice. It felt like a celebration of survival and community.

From there I took a bus to see Mayan ruins on the border of Guatemala, where I stayed the night. Then I traveled to Flores, Guatemala, arriving a few days before Día de los Muertos. The streets were alive with color, candles, and remembrance. I made a friends with a family who lived in the jungle and had no income, only corn they kept in a large crib to trade for food. He had been a road engineer, but when President Otto Pérez Molina came to power in 2011, he was fired for partisan reasons. They had a large family with 6 or 7 kids, and most of them slept outside in hammocks. I loved the kids – they were so sweet. I had met them after taking a boat across the lake and exploring the jungle on the other side.

I visited with them several times over the following days, and ended up accompanying them on All Hallow’s Eve, carrying carved gourds on sticks and singing “Ixpa para Calaveras”. We visited their neighbors who would offer us a delicious sweet drink, Ixpa, made of purple corn. We walked around the dusty streets, singing into the night, with our candles burning in gourds. It was a special time.

I had not planned to be in Flores during Día de los Muertos. I didn’t realize that they celebrated in such a unique fashion, and felt that luck had been on my side. The town’s streets were lined with women hawking homemade, mouth-watering gastronomic delights, served in traditional clay ollas. I have never had such tasty and complex meals, vegetarian and meat, even at 5 star restaurants (not that I’ve eaten at many).

I spent those 2 days in the two most popular local cemeteries, where food vendors set up outside with amazing and tasty fare. There I watched as families gathered to honor their dead, repainting sepulchers with gold paint and sitting to feast with their loved ones. I helped a family set up their chairs and table for a feast to honor their dead, and they invited me to join them. It was an honor.

I had come to Flores to visit nearby Tikal. Before leaving, I signed up for a day trip to the site. I would have preferred to go myself and wander around on my own, but had been told it wasn’t possible. The tour leader turned out to be a less than trustworthy character. He saw that I was very interested in the history of the ruins, and offered to show me a secret passageway into one of the pyramids. I didn’t suspect any nefarious intent, and he led me into a narrow passage, with me going first. There, where I was unable to move (or be heard if I screamed), he assaulted me sexually. I felt sick to my stomach, recalling the trauma of having been raped as a 17 year old and twice a few years later. How many women have lived through such abuse? Apparently a great majority of the global population.

I was shaken, and as soon as I could, went off on my own, hoping to find my own way back. I inquired of some tourists and found out that there actually was a city bus that one could take. Had I known, I would have avoided the tour completely. I wandered until dark, and will never forget the experience of walking under a particularly large tree, to have a troupe of howler monkeys begin a deafening shriek. I was so startled I practically fell on the ground. As scary as it was, I appreciated the solitude I felt in the semi-darkness, with no one to molest or bother me but some innocent monkeys who, despite their roar, were not going to hurt me.

The next couple days were a blur. I jumped on a shuttle to Belize with some other tourists, and got the chance to tell two women about the violation. It helped to speak of it, unlike when I was a teen and didn’t feel like anyone cared. I’d tried to tell my mom, but she didn’t give me the empathy I’d hoped for. We had to walk our baggage across the Guatemala/Belize border, which was informal at best.

In Belize I caught a bus to Cancún, and decided to disembark in the middle of the night in Tulum, which a few travelers had recommended. From the bus stop, I walked to the ocean and found a wonderful lodging which I agreed to share with a fellow traveler. For the healthy price of $25 per person, we stayed in a lovely hut on the water, simple in design, with 2 beds, each covered by mosquito netting.

In the early morning I woke and walked along the beach. I was surprised to see a local walking along the shore, vacuuming up seaweed. He said tourists hated the stuff. I thought of the Shakespeare quote, “what a piece of work is man”. What about the animals that depended on it for survival? In places that depend on the tourist dollar, the aesthetic of the wealthy and entitled trumps life. Until there’s no life left, and then the tourists leave to find another paradise.

As I contemplated this, I looked up and saw a fortress overlooking the ocean. It was beautiful and looked archaic. I learned that Tulum had been a fortified Mayan city, built on a cliff overlooking the Caribbean Sea, with its eastern side naturally protected by the sea and cliffs. The other three sides were fortified with thick, tall stone walls, giving it a strong defensive posture. I loved the beauty of this place, and vowed to return someday.

Later in the day, I boarded a bus for Cancún, and from there flew to Mexico City, and then home. It had been an epic adventure.