Finca Tatin is the closest thing to a hidden jungle paradise that I can think of. Twenty minutes away from Livingston by boat, the only other way to get there is to hike for four hours through the jungle, so it is pretty remote even though there are other houses along and across the waterway from it. I was met at the dock by Wade, whose unofficial title would have to be General Manager. I had done some research on this place, and immediately recognized him from a picture on his blog about working there - the long beard and full sleeve tattoos were hard to miss. I was quickly shown the ropes, and my appreciation for the place skyrocketed. Dorm rooms were inexpensive, clean, and included mosquito nets. The whole hotel works on the honor system - when you eat a meal or take a drink from the fridge, you mark it down in a little book and they tally up your expenses at the end. There is a dartboard, hammocks, and the path through the back leads through the jungle to the showers and washrooms. Lights go off at 10pm because that's when the generator goes off. But hey, you're in the jungle, so its not like you would be missing much anyways. Dinner is family-style, with a simple "yes I am eating" or "no thank you" option in terms of a menu. That didn'ts matter either, because the food was exceptional every night. And best of all, just because of the location and concept of the place, everyone I met was a similar minded traveller, laid back and just looking to chill all day with no worries and no schedule. Big win.
I quickly met a group of travellers my age and jumped into the group, eventually consisting of Yuka, Darshan, John, Leeah and I, and we spent the next three days doing nothing, which was the whole point of being at Finca Tatin in the first place. The daily schedule pretty much became structured as follows: wake up, realize you are in the jungle, smile about the fact that you are in the jungle, wait for others to wake up, eat breakfast, swim, read, hang out, eat lunch, play cards, swim, use the term "chill patrol" multiple times, throw darts, play cards, eat dinner, drink beer, play cards, go to bed, listen to the bugs/birds/animals light up the night with sound, lights out. Repeat. The most strenuous activity that I did in three days was kayaking, which I did for about an hour. Life doesn't get much better than that...
After three days of rest and relaxation, we all decided to head over to Livingston for a day to see the sights, eat Creole food, and maybe find a bar. Although this seemed like a large undertaking at the time, seeing as how it would involve more than swinging in a hammock and dangling from a dock, we managed to get ourselves together, albeit not without Jon mentioning several times that he was not ready to reintroduce himself to a non-jungle-haven environment. Livingston itself is cool, but not all that pretty. It sits on the Carribean but doesn't have any beaches, just grass meeting the water, and lots of trash. Worse than the trash was the fact that as soon as you get off the boat you are met by a seemingly nice local who wants to show you around a few places. How nice of him to do such a thing for us, even after we informed him we were good and didn't need any help since we knew where we were going. I knew there would be a catch, and was just waiting for him to ask for some money, although Jon seems to place more faith in humanity and thought he was just being friendly. Sure enough, after he led us to the restaurant he sat outside and waited for us to come out so that we could "tip" him. Luckily for us, the restaurant owner was a talker, and two hours later he gave up on us and went off in search of other unsuspecting tourists.
This was the restaurant that we ended up eating lunch, dinner, and breakfast at during our stay in Livingston. Tilingo Lingo is relatively inconspicuous, and would have been a normal culinary experience if not for the lovely owner Maria. Having lived in Mexico, India, and Guatemala, she had many stories to tell us, a mean Mexican lemonade for us to drink, and a great traditional tapado fish soup which I inhaled. By the time we had left, we had heard some pretty interesting stories, including how Maria's childhood dream of being a detective led her to be involved in the successful capture of a fugitive who appeared on America's Most Wanted and was hiding out in Livingston. True story, once I actually look up the details I will post a follow up on it. We also heard some other stories about how her detective ambitions have gotten her into some trouble with the kind of people you don't want to be in trouble with, and in all seriousness I won't even get into details here because we were told that anything we heard past a certain point we couldn't repeat. I felt like I was in a Mission Impossible movie, before Tom Cruise went crazy and became the celebrity icon behind a cult-religion.
The next morning, the rest of the crew had to head out to Antigua, while I would be going north to Flores, so we decided that a bar hop through Livingston was in order (although one end of the city to the other takes about a 5 minute walk). Unfortunately the rain dampened our attempt at the third stop, but not before we had enjoyed some good times and good company at the hotel, the restaurant on the pier, and back at Maria's. With an early morning for all of us ahead, we took in a few last drinks and headed back to the hotel shortly after midnight, unable to find an ice cream parlor still open at that hour. Quite a shame actually. In the end, Livingston provided the R&R that I was looking for after a week of craziness and several days of trudging through the mountains with a giant backpack on. More importantly, I had my first encounter with meeting random people in random places, and quickly feeling like you had known them for much longer. The same would happen later in Belize, and undoubtly will again in the future, but when incredible places combine with awesome people, the outcome is unlike any other. I guess that it's just one small piece of the puzzle towards that seach for pura vida.
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