The Gringo Trail: a path beaten, bashed, flogged and stampeded

When I mention to people that I am going travelling in places like Mexico, Guatemala and Belize, their reactions are usually something of shock and awe. "Wow!" they coo, "how dangerous and exotic, be careful" (obviously those who have done a bit of backpacking outside of Europe realise that this is totally not the case), however for some reason this part of the world still holds some mystery and danger for many. If only they knew! Southern Mexico, Belize and Guatemala are some of the easiest places to travel I have ever been to. Between not needing to know a word of Spanish, nor even meet a local or have any idea of how to get around, it seems that even the most unadventurous, culturally retarded and completely lacking in common sense are able to see all there is to see without lifting a finger thanks to a quick swipe of the credit card and a network of (often foreign owned) travel agencies, shuttle companies and hostels (many of which double as bars, restaurants and everything else one could possibly need) so that one need not even step foot outside the hostel. Even since being away I have rarely found myself speaking Spanish, despite being in a Spanish speaking country.

Far from being a pretentious indie traveller, lazy Gabby has certainly been enjoying the late mornings, direct buses (let me just say that 11 hours, 7 different chicken buses and a boat are not at all preferable to a cosy direct shuttle) and self indulgence that a well established tourist trail (granted I have also been away for 14 months and travel fatigue is beginning to set it). Having been stuck to the tourist trail for the most part, I doubt I can really say that I know Southern Mexico, Belize nor Guatemala beyond the pretty attractions and a number of hostels and bars (and hostel bars), nor can I really claim that I have 'done' any of those places (what a retarded term that backpackers use, how does one 'do' a country I wonder).

In addition, something that I have noticed quite a bit is that the people I have encountered seem to repeat themselves. Not just the same actual people, rather the types of travellers I seem to encounter seem to make everyday feel like groundhog day. Almost every hostel or town or bar seem to feature at least one of the following stereotypes:

• The partiers: they are already drinking by midday and are the last ones to bed at night. Cheering, yelling and whooping can be heard from large distances and they don't seem to notice or care whether they are in Guatemala, Bali or Sydney.
• The hippies: long hippie pants, long hair (sometimes with dreadlocks) and often a lot of piercings all over. They tend to be travelling on a tight budget and are usually the travellers in the kitchen or complaining about the high prices of food in the hostel or talking about the evils of corporate greed.
• The indie traveller: Almost all speak spanish and have a number of tales of foreign lands to rant about. Everything about them screams 'I am a better traveller than you because I get off the beaten track,' even though they are curiously cooped up in the same hostel as the partiers. Constantly trying to one up everyone else with their amazing travel tales, their disdain for the partiers is somewhat hypocritical.
• The Dazza (or the Shazza): surprisingly not the most irritating traveller, these Australians tend to gravitate towards one another to share tales of common bars back in Melbourne, their love of vegemite and the state of the Australian dollar.
• The hostel worker: these people usually either find themselves working in a hostel because they have run out of money or they enjoyed their first night there and thought it would be a great place to stay. They are cheery and enthusiastic (too much so?) and have an incredible talent for learning guest's names.
• The laptopper: takes advantage of the free wifi almost everywhere and spends hours sitting on youtube, stumbleupon, facebook and anything else to keep their interest online. Why? Who knows. Perhaps its just the narcissists that are blogging away...

So there you have it, Central America is no longer under the travel radar. There are times I find myself asking myself where am I again? Maybe I am cynical, or maybe I just need to go home already. I am however not dissing the people who I have met along the way (many have been awesome) nor am I suggesting that tourism has eaten and consumed any trace of local culture. However, such a tourist trail has been established in these parts that local interaction, nor the discomforts or difficulty of travelling have been almost eliminated from the experience. One can only hope now that word doesn't get out and that Belize and Guatemala become the new Cancun or Bali... oops.