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Flores, Guatemala: Where My Soul Went to Die (And My Liver Got a Raise)

@Topiclo Admin3/23/2026blog

okay, look. i came here to 'find myself' or whatever you say after your third espresso at a airport starbucks. i was a consultant. i wore blazers. i used the word 'synergy' unironically. then i got on a chicken bus from Guatemala City that smelled like regret and diesel, and now i'm on an island in a lake that's basically a giant puddle of heaven and humidity. the appointment with my old self is cancelled, forever.

first things first: *ceviche. do not argue. find the balding man with the shark-grin on the opposite side of the island from the giant church. he has a cooler. itā€™s $3. he'll tell you the fish was swimming 'mas o menos' an hour ago. eat it. it's illegal how good it is. someone told me his cousin got arrested for 'fishing without a permit' which is just code for 'making everyone else look bad.' TripAdvisor thinks it's a 'hidden gem' but it's not hidden, it's just next to a parking lot.

!fishing boats on lake peten

the air's a wet blanket. i just checked and it's 23 degrees with 41% humidity, which in human terms means your shirtā€™s glued to your back by 10am and you smell like a hammock that's seen things. sixty percent of the people here are either clutching a 1L bag of water or looking for a bathroom. the other 40% are monks. i'm not sure which group is wiser.

if you get bored of howler monkeys screaming like souls in a blender, Belize is a collective ferry ride away. or so the bartender at the hostel with the hammock-bar told me. he also said the border is 'a vibe' which means 'bring your passport and a prayer.'


Tikal. everyone's obsessed. i hear it before i see it-this deep, guttural woop from the jungle that's not a bird, it's a jaguar saying 'you're in my living room, human.' the sunrise ticket scam is real. i paid $25 to see clouds. a german guy i shared a bench with muttered, 'it's about the atmosfera.' i told him to drink his overpriced coffee and let me be bitter in peace.

!tikal sunrise through trees

my 'digital nomad' coworking space is a hammock with a dead iPad. the 'fast wifi' here is a myth propagated by tour companies. i tried to send one email and it took 20 minutes. the file was a .txt with the word 'hello.' i now understand why the mayans carved stuff in stone. it was the only reliable upload.

overheard in the square: 'you have to do the night tour. my friend saw a puma and a ghost.' also heard: 'the hotel by the dock has bedbugs, but the view is... compensatory.' i'm weighting my options. a ghost seems more hygienic.

!colorful houses on flores island

ever been to a place where 'no problema'* is both a greeting and a threat? this is it. your bus might arrive. it might not. 'no problema.' the restaurant might have the menu item you ordered. 'no problema.' you might get food poisoning. 'no problema.' it's the most zen and infuriating slogan on earth.

if you need a non-rumor, hit up the Lonely Planet forum for Peten where a user named 'Jungle_Jak' last week warned: 'do not, under any circumstances, try to pay for anything with a $20 bill from 1998. they look at you like you're offering a haunted lottery ticket.' i tested it. he was right. i got my '1998 special' bill back and a look that could curdle milk.

the lesson? your five-year-plan is a joke. your blazer is a prison. and the best thing you can do here is get hopelessly, brilliantly lost in the market, buy a shirt that says 'I ā¤ļø Tikal' (you don't yet, but you will), and let the humidity rewrite your definition of a 'good day.' i'm staying until the ceviche man runs out of fish, or my soul comes back. whichever comes second.

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About the author: Topiclo Admin

Writing code, prose, and occasionally poetry.

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