Our last day in Mexico was spent making our way across the Zapatista heartland to access Guatemala via the Usumacinta River. Since we had been enjoying our travels on the local colectivos, we decided to have a crack at the border crossing ourselves instead of taking one of the direct tourist shuttles touted by every other person in the greater Palenque area. From the amount of shuttle promotions, and from the tsk tsk´s when we mentioned going independently, you´d think that it would be incredibly stupid to try going on your own. This, of course, made it all the more appealing...

The day couldn´t have started off better. I woke up feeling incredibly sick to my stomach, and the nausea got even worse after trying to eat breakfast. With a cold sweat and zero energy, I lugged my pack onto the colectivo bound for Palenque Town, and down the street in search of the one bound for the border town of Frontera Corozal. On days like these, it is fantastic to have a travel partner. While I waited miserably with the packs, Silje ran around in search of the colectivo office. It was now 10am and the tourist shuttle already had a 4 hour lead...

After much ado, much waiting around and the promise of an 11am departure, we were just thrilled to find out that the real departure time was 12:30pm. We decided to check the only other agency on the off chance that they would have an earlier departure. While I rested and worried about my stomach, Silje set out again (bless her heart) to find out what our options were. We got "lucky" with tickets for 12pm, and prepared ourselves for 4 hours in an over-filled van with no chance of a toilet break. I vowed not to eat or drink until we were safely out of the van.

The driver was a champion (must be good karma from the religious Christmas CD he was blasting) and we arrived in dusty little Frontera Corozal at 3pm. Heading straight for the Immigration office to get our Mexican exit stamp, we were greeted with a sign informing us that the Officer was on his lunch break and would be back "soon". We settled in for the long haul...

According to the guidebook, the last bus to Flores leaves at 1pm from the Guatemalan side of the border. However, according to our new friend the lanchera ("captain" of one of the river boats), the last bus leaves at 5pm, and he would be more than happy to take us the 1/2 hour upriver for a hefty fee. With the clock ticking towards 4pm and the immigration officer still missing in action, it didn´t look good.

Just before 4pm, we finally got stamped out of Mexico and set off towards the river and our lancha. What a gorgeous ride it was! We rode for half an hour through dense tropical forest, with local women doing laundry at the river´s edge and local kids playing in the water. We arrived in Betel at 4:30 and, guided by our saviour Mr Lanchera, climbed the steep banks and ran into town where the last bus of the day was revving its engines. Luckily, the bus station is also the Immigration office, foreign exchange office, and local hangout, so we got all our needs catered to within minutes. Off we were, on our way to Flores, with not a minute to spare. After the glorious buses and fine roads in Mexico we were now bumping our way over giant potholes at breakneck speed, chickens cackling scared for their lives, and rightly so. It was a fine old US school bus, painted in psychedelic colors and adorned with religious artefacts as well as stuffed animals and teletubbies. The driver and his friends sat in the front, stopping at various houses, shops and snack stands to gossip or buy this, that and the other.

We arrived in Flores before 9pm with triumphant smiles despite being exhausted. We did it :-)