Livingstone

Livingstone, a little town in the Carribean was my next destination. It can only be reached by boat and the ride along the river of Rio Dulce feels quite special, you get the feeling pirates have been in these waters but nowadays it is mostly populated by birds, and Mayans in little wooden kayaks. Livingstone is the home of the Garifuna people, an ethnic group with roots in Africa. It differs quite from the rest if Guatemala and there is a little bit of Jamaican feeling over the place. Once I arrived in the harbour it felt like every single hustler and Rastafari saw the opportunity to escort this lonely little lady to somewhere expecting me or the hotel to tip them for their unbearable service. Luckily I bumped into Susette, a dutch girls who asked me to stay with her. to be continued...
I spent a few sunny days in Livingstone, doing hikes to a waterfall and reading books on the local beach, or rather the local trash bin located by the ocean. It was in quite a dreadful condition and the local pig family, a mommy, her sidekick and 8 little pig babies came looking for leftovers. Every night I fell asleep to the noise of bongo drums and reaggeton and woke up by the local chicken male (coq?). it was nice