It looks like the gateway to a calm, serene, sapphire-blue world. A world of the gods, perhaps just as the Maya imagined it.

You seem to glide weightlessly through the caverns. Where the sun’s rays touch the surface, the water turns turquoise. In the glow of the torches, however, it appears crystal clear; otherwise, there’s only total darkness.

No current, total silence, broken only by the mechanical hiss of the regulator. Were it not for the damp cold creeping into the wetsuit, you wouldn’t feel the water at all. And sometimes a small fish reminds us that we have dived into its world.

The beam of the torch cuts through the darkness. The air bubbles cling to the ceiling like silver Christmas baubles, reflecting the cold artificial light. There is no beginning and no end. As if the surroundings were reflected on the surface of a lake – only from below.

What are cenotes?

The older the cenote, the more likely it is that the ceiling has already collapsed, creating an opening to the surface. Younger cenotes are usually still found in caves, of which there are more than enough in Yucatan; estimates suggest there are over 7,000. Although most contain fresh water, at least in the upper part, there are cenotes where both sea water and fresh water are present, yet they do not mix due to their different densities.

The Mayan world is divided into three parts: the underworld, the earth and the heavens. All caves and caverns are regarded as gateways to the underworld, and although it is called the ‘place of fear’, the underworld is simultaneously a source of life, of the origin.

Researches identified the cenotes as sacred sites due to the many offerings they found in the caves, and even today, though rare, ceremonies are still held. Yet although human sacrifices were made, Xibalbá cannot be compared to the hell of the Christian faith.

It is not a hell, but a testing ground. The deceased pass through the nine levels into which Xibalbá is divided until, after trials, struggles and imposed sufferings, they are permitted to leave the place. The most direct route is via the Ceiba tree, Ceiba pentandra, a sacred tree that connects Xibalbá to the heavens through its roots, trunk and crown.

In fact, all the deceased must pass through the underworld; only those sacrificed, those who have sacrificed themselves, and women who die in childbirth travel directly to the gods in heaven.

Yet as awe-inspiring as the history of the Maya is, today’s reality at the water’s edge often looks far more mundane: it is a multi-million-dollar business.

Holy Tourists

Where priests once made sacrifices to the gods, souvenir shops now line the path to the water. The cenotes remain vital to survival, but no longer just for their drinking water; they are now tourist attractions. Unfortunately, things have reached the point where exorbitant entrance fees are charged, and these are constantly being raised. The owners’ argument? The tourists are willing to pay, so if they don’t like it, they should just visit cenotes abroad. There are indeed cenotes elsewhere, but the problem is that most (and the most impressive) are in Mexico.

Since we’re already in the area, we thought we’d go for a dive. We book a dive online. Most diving schools don’t even have an office you can pop into anymore. We opt for the cheapest deal: two dives in the same Dos Ojos cenote for 170 US dollars.

Almost cheap compared to other online offers. And not much less than the Galapagos, although there we also had a boat trip and lunch included. The value for money is really nowhere near justified in Quintana Roo.

In return, we get to spend the night for free at the fire station and leave the car safely parked there too. Definitely well worth it.

Near Valladolid, there’s a little-known gem: a campsite with a private cenote run by two German expats. We headed there – and weren’t disappointed.

This cenote is the complete opposite of Dos Ojos – not a tourist in sight. They’ve also created a unique entrance: down a spiral staircase, through a rock tunnel and across a (certainly not safety-certified) rope bridge, you descend into the earth’s interior.

There it lies beneath us, Cenote Xnuuk, in the middle of a cave. Only two small light wells let a few rays through at midday when the sun is at its highest point of the year. Fortunately, we no longer rely on daylight, as they have wired and lit everything up. The artificial light is what really brings the cave’s vastness to life. Inside, it’s always 28°C – and as it was so cold during our stay, it felt like a proper spa experience.

This is exactly how we imagined it. Drifting on clear water, alone in a cave. Amidst a silence that permeates everything, interrupted only by the splashing of condensed water droplets. As you watch the roots of the trees in search of the elixir of life, you almost feel as though you can see a Mayan god from Xibalbá venturing up into the world of the living.

The snake winds itself beautifully around the tree trunk. Another poses on a lush green leaf, with the Arenal Volcano in the background. Simply incredible, the perfect coincidence – or is it?

We have often wondered how it is that animals in photos always pose so beautifully – mind you, wild animals.

The answer? It’s sobering: the animals are placed exactly where people want them.

The methods behind the photo

With cold-blooded animals, there are particularly questionable methods: when they are chilled, they hardly move. There are even reports of limbs being suspended by threads. A famous photo of a frog riding a beetle was likely staged this way, as the two species are not active at the same time of day.

Bringing a jaguar into the right position in the wild is difficult – if not impossible. To give tourists a guaranteed sighting, providers resort to aids. Feeding stations are far more common than one might think.

We have also been offered a guaranteed sighting of a “wild” ocelot, or taken to a feeding site for tapirs; even the Orinoco crocodile is fed regularly so that it remains within the national reserve and isn’t killed outside its borders.

Feeding stations for birds are found almost everywhere: Bananas and sugar water are popular choices.

As long as tour operators can guarantee sightings, their income is secure. This leads to a dangerous set of expectations. Tourists want “wildlife photos”. In Costa Rica, the practice went so far that sloths, for example, were taken down from trees just for a “wildlife selfie”. The government launched an awareness campaign in 2019. Perhaps it helped. We didn’t experience anything of this sort ourselves, but we read about it.

With snakes, however, we witnessed a different side of the story.

The business of “perfect” nature

In Costa Rica, we came across a particularly negative practice: a photographer told us about providers who carry snakes around in boxes to position them in the perfect spot. We also came across a post on Facebook denouncing this exact practice.

And why? Simply to offer tourists the perfect picture. It would quite frankly be too exhausting to spend the night in the jungle without a guaranteed find – plus, you can’t see the volcano at night.

Unfortunately, this practice is quite widespread – even in countries like Costa Rica, where animal welfare is supposedly a high priority. What can then be expected from other countries that hardly care about it at all?

Encounters with Costa Rica’s primates

We see “big monkeys” all the time – after all, we’re all guilty of making a monkey out of ourselves every now and then. But those that actually still swing through the treetops are, sadly, becoming fewer and farther between.

By now, we’ve reached the north of Central America, and here they have become a rare sight. Since crossing the border from Costa Rica, we haven’t spotted a single monkey – we haven’t even heard one. Reason enough to look back wistfully at our time in Costa Rica, where we were lucky enough to observe all four native monkey species, some of them on multiple occasions.

Capuchin: grumpy and intelligent

They usually look a bit grumpy, but curiosity almost always wins the day: Capuchin monkeys (cebinae). Their habitat stretches from Central America down to Northern Argentina. They owe their name to Portuguese explorers, who felt the monkeys’ colouring resembled the cowls worn by Capuchin friars.

It’s fascinating to note that Capuchins have quite a large brain relative to their body size. Scientists attribute this to their complex foraging techniques. They are extremely adaptable and skilled tool users – we watched them feeding time and again, even seeing them tuck into coconuts.

Howler monkeys: loud and leisurely

You often hear them long before you see them: the loud Howler monkeys (alouatta) frequently served as our natural jungle alarm clock at four in the morning. After the Woolly Spider monkeys (brachyteles), they are the largest monkeys in the New World.

A fascinating detail: They are the only New World primates to have developed trichromatic colour vision (similar to us humans). Their namesake roar, which can be heard for several kilometres, is used for communication between different groups. This makes them officially the loudest land animals on Earth! Despite their leisurely pace, they are expert climbers and often use their prehensile tail as a “fifth hand” – strong enough to support their entire body weight during a leap.

For me, monkeys are definitely animals I could watch for hours on end – no matter how many times we’ve seen them before. And honestly? Even that loud roaring at 4 am has become something quite beautiful and comforting to me. It’s the sound of the wild, and I truly hope we get to hear it for many years to come.

When conservation becomes a business

Costa Rica boasts pristine jungles, long beaches, two warm seas and hundreds of refreshing waterfalls. It enjoys a very positive reputation abroad as a pioneer in sustainability and the protection of its fauna and flora. In 2024, 25.5 % of the country’s land and 31% of its sea were under some form of protection.

It sounds like an advertisement from a travel magazine.

Some aspects of Costa Rica’s image are certainly true: there is barely any litter, and we repeatedly see animals as we drive through beautiful forests. Yet it is not entirely consistent.

This creates a habitat for wild animals. And the animals are not fearful, but rather curious. They come close, but they do not attack. Costa Rica has managed to ensure that monkeys and raccoons are not fed indiscriminately; so the animals let you get close, but do not attack. We were able to observe Capuchin monkeys eating up close for a while. In many national parks, it is prohibited to bring food and it is strictly controlled at the entrance.

Not all that glitters is gold. Here, too, nature conservation and the economy compete for dominance. Some examples:

Although sharks are protected, they are often caught as bycatch and subsequently sold. Between 2015 and 2020, 14 tonnes of shark fins were unloaded in Punta Arenas, most of which were exported to China. In 2017, the species was reclassified as a commercial animal rather than a wild animal, meaning it fell under fishery law. Although the Supreme Court declared this illegal, nothing has really changed (Mongabay).

There is also a risk that captured animals will be declared as re-exported, meaning the sharks will supposedly come from Nicaragua and only pass through Costa Rica en route to third countries. However, conservationists assume that the majority originate from Costa Rican fisheries.

In September 2025, fishermen took to the streets in San José to protest against a provisional export ban. A month later, the Administrative Court overturned it. Nature conservation, particularly marine conservation, remains a permanent contradiction in Costa Rica – the situation is not as positive as it is perceived abroad.

Are they a delicacy or a protected species? The paradox of turtle eggs

When travelling to Costa Rica, one of the first things you will see are images of freshly hatched turtles making their way to the sea. Turtle season occurs at some point each year almost everywhere in the country. There are hundreds of protection projects as sea turtles are a protected species.

However, turtle eggs are readily sold on the market, albeit not necessarily in tourist areas. The reasoning is simple: in some places, so many turtles arrive that subsequent arrivals destroy the nests. Since these eggs would otherwise be lost, it is better to collect and sell them.

This, however, leads to the eggs being considered a delicacy and being plundered at many other locations. To counter this, countless protection projects rely on volunteers. This creates another problem.

From our perspective, the American continent is bordered by two oceans: the Atlantic and the Pacific. For most travellers, the sea accompanies them along the entire route from north to south, or vice versa. For us, however, it was slightly different. For long periods, we travelled almost exclusively inland through South America.

But now, in Central America, there is no escape. The sea is never far away and provides us with wonderful places to stay time and time again. The sea creatures are fascinating too, especially in the middle of whale season.

Visiting humpback whales

We hadn’t seen any for a long time because we hadn’t been near the coast. In Ecuador, we arrived either too early or too late for the season, as there was no sign of the whales.

But in Panama, we arrived at just the right time. This meant that we absolutely had to get out on the water to see them!

Whale watching has become big business in this region. Prices are often correspondingly high. In Panama, specifically in Santa Catalina, they wanted to charge between 80 and 100 US dollars. To be fair, this includes not only whale watching but also snorkelling and the park entrance fee.

However, we received a tip from other travellers about a cheaper option with fewer tourists. Since we had already been fortunate enough to see a humpback whale calf practising its jumps and observe other whales from a distance during our diving trip, we thought long and hard about it. But at 30 US$ per person for six hours on the water, we couldn’t complain.

We drove to Boca Brava. Despite it being the rainy season, our guide was waiting for us there on a beautiful sunny day. Five American expats joined us on the boat. The eight of us set off in the small boat for Chiriquí National Park. Right in the middle was a mother swimming with her calf. They kept coming very close to the boat! It took an hour for another tourist boat to arrive. So we were almost alone the entire time.

Seeing these little calves swimming, and then seeing the mothers appear right next to them, was deeply impressive. This is especially impressive given how much bigger they are than our little boat. These giants can grow up to 15 metres long, which is rather small for the rorqual family, and weigh between 25 and 30 tonnes. We saw whales repeatedly that day, both from the beach and from the boat.

Can you do whale watching from bed?

In Costa Rica, we tried again. This time, from our bed looking through the tent window, parking on a beach near Puerto Jiménez where whales are often seen. We didn’t see the whales, but we did see dolphins, rays and turtles.

The second time we went whale watching, it was in Uvita, with a colleague of Michi’s brother who organises whale-watching tours. He took us on a fishing trip with his friends. I still find fishing boring, but there were whales in the bay. We saw them jumping in the distance repeatedly, and then a mother and calf came very close.

It was different here, though. Despite it being the off-season, five other boats carrying up to 15 people surrounded the animals. So much for whale watching alone! It’s a completely different experience to have the animals almost exclusively to yourself. We are looking forward to new encounters on our way north. After all, we will continue to encounter the coast and its fascinating inhabitants all along the way.

Banana varieties beyond the yellow banana

Did you know that there are more than a thousand varieties of banana in the world? In Europe, we usually only know one: the sweet yellow banana – the Canarian banana, or Cavendish.

The banana travelled around the world before reaching America. The plant is native to the Indomalayan region, from where it spread to Africa and the Mediterranean, and crossed the Atlantic via the Canary Islands around 1516. Curiously, in Europe we settled on the sweetest and most domesticated variety, without giving the banana tree’s many other forms a chance.

To each their own banana

There is also no lack of diversity in how they are prepared: fried or roasted, patacones or tostones (double-fried plantain), bolones (plantain and cheese balls), green tortillas, chifles (chips), boiled plantain and as many other versions as you can imagine!

I love patacones or tostones – in Venezuela, patacones are hamburgers with tostones, and Colombian patacones are tostones. Why make it easy? On the other hand, I confess that boiled green plantains or plantain soup don’t win me over: they’re too bland.

In many countries, sweet bananas are hardly ever used outside of desserts. The one that reigns supreme in kitchens is the plantain, which is as versatile as the potato.

Beyond the classic yellow, there are curious varieties such as the red or silk banana, which has a sweet flavour with hints of raspberry and a high beta-carotene content that gives the skin its characteristic colour. We tried it in Bolivia, and along with the orito, it’s one of my favourites.

There is also the apple banana, with a flavour reminiscent of the green fruit; I still have that one to try.

The banana market, a global giant

Bananas from the Canary Islands are the mainstay of European supermarkets, along with those from the Azores and the French Caribbean territories. However, domestic production only covers 11% of demand. The rest is supplied from abroad, with 74% of imports coming from Latin America, almost 4.3 million tonnes in 2021.

Ecuador, Colombia and Costa Rica are the main exporters to Europe, a reality that is very much in evidence throughout our trip. Banana trees can be found on every corner and in every garden, and every house has a bunch of green bananas hanging under the porch, ready to be used. And millions of fruit flies as soon as the odd one ripens too much.

Exports focus on bananas, still green, and less on plantains. The latter remains a niche product of immigrant kitchens in Europe.

We are impressed by the variety of plantains and bananas and their use in cooking. No one can take away my patacones or the occasional fried ripe plantain, but I will have to see where I can find them in Europe and, maybe one day, even buy some that are not just yellow.

Which ones have you tried?

When leafing through travel brochures, it is impossible to imagine the tropics without colourful birds in the sky. Parrots, toucans and hummingbirds seem to be everywhere. These colourful birds are indeed an integral part of the image of the tropics.

We also enjoy watching these vibrant creatures, particularly macaws, which are the largest species of true parrot, in South and Central America. They are exclusively native to this continent and vary greatly in size and colour, but their cries betray their presence wherever they are. Macaws are intelligent, social and extremely communicative. This makes them fascinating, but unfortunately also makes them popular for keeping as pets. This spells disaster for them in the wild.

The alarm clock

While we mainly saw blue species in the south, they became increasingly redder the further north we went. The largest of these is the hyacinth macaw, which can grow to a length of up to one metre. Its deep blue plumage and yellow skin around the beak make it unmistakable.

The scarlet macaw is probably the best known, with its bright red, yellow and blue feathers. However, the blue-and-yellow macaw is also a classic of the tropical rainforest. There are eight species in total and two are already extinct, while four are critically endangered. Seeing the birds in the wild is incredibly impressive.

Unfortunately, macaws’ beauty and ability to mimic sounds also make them popular pets. Their wings are often clipped to stop them flying away. We saw many such animals on our trip. They make popular photo subjects and tourist attractions. Even though measures are being taken to combat this, once the birds have become accustomed to humans, they cannot simply be returned to the wild — especially if they can no longer fly.

In Colombia, however, we encountered an unusual pair of macaws that were allowed to fly freely. They had been living with a family for years. They could have flown away at any time, but chose to stay, probably because they had grown up there as chicks. The male was extremely territorial and would regularly attack men. Only the grandmother could control all the birds, but unfortunately she was not there that day. So, we had to constantly defend our plates of rice from the two macaws.

One of the macaws was particularly inquisitive. He inspected our handwashing routine, tested the hammock, tasted the coffee, and finally examined our entire car. With them around, it was never boring.

Endangered paradise

In the wild, adult macaws have few natural enemies. The greatest threat to their survival is the loss of their habitat due to deforestation and land conversion for agriculture. Like many other animals in the tropical rainforest, macaws are also suffering from the disappearance of their natural habitat. Old trees provide them with a home, and without the forest, there are no nests.

Poaching and the illegal wildlife trade also hinder efforts to preserve populations in the wild. However, there are some successful conservation projects, such as the one in Costa Rica where macaws can easily find food thanks to the planting of sea almond trees, and their numbers have recovered.

Macaws live in stable pair relationships. They are almost always seen flying in pairs and are faithful to each other for life. In captivity, they can live up to 65 years. I think that’s because they have one advantage over us: if they can’t stand each other for a while, they have the whole sky at their disposal! We, on the other hand, are stuck sharing a few square metres in the Land Cruiser!

Adventuring into the South

We actually wanted to eat something, but we quickly fled back to the car. The air stinks and everyone is wearing masks. We stopp next to a young man, roll down the window, and ask him why he was wearing a mask. He mumbles something incomprehensible, starts the engine and drives off.

We tried our luck with two other people, but nobody here in Las Claritas seemed willing to give us an answer. We can definitely imagine the reason, but we have to wait until we meet Bruno to confirm it.

For now, it’s better if we move on out of Las Claritas and eat the leftovers from the fridge.

A river and steel

The Troncal 10 is the gateway to the Amazon jungle, welcoming visitors with the impressive Orinoco River bridge. There are only three bridges that cross the Orinoco in Venezuela. The Puente Orinoquia is three kilometres long and takes us 300 metres above the water. The river seems endless, carrying vast quantities of water downstream at great speed. It is the third largest river in the world in terms of water volume, after the Amazon and the Congo.

Due to the large volume of water, the river is navigable by large boats and plays an important role in transporting goods for heavy industry. On the opposite bank, we see a bleak scene: the chimneys of steelworks along the riverbank make everything appear grey. Just behind them is Puerto Ordaz, the river port of Ciudad Guayana.

We are driving through the gold mining region of Venezuela. The further south we go, the more prices are quoted in gold: one box of beer is 2.5 punto, and three empanadas are one punto. Actually, it’s expensive because they want 10 dollars for one punto, whereas an empanada usually costs us one dollar in Venezuela.

However, they would prefer us to pay in gold. They do accept dollars, but not Venezuelan bolívares. They might also accept Brazilian reais, but we don’t have any. They keep the crude gold folded in paper and weigh it to calculate the price – every business man carries a set of scales here.

After Tumeremo, the road gets worse with one pothole after another until there it was ok. You can feel the winds changing. The towns are found along the road and named after their location in kilometres. At Kilómetro 88, there should be a gold centre. We asked them what they would pay: $100 for one gram of pure gold. The seller buys the gold from artisanal miners and then resells it to others.

Officially, gold should be sold through the government, but illegal trafficking is more lucrative and allows them to avoid foreign sanctions and mix gold into the legal market. We’re not allowed to buy any gold directly from him, so we leave it. It also seems a bit dubious, this entire region.

The people don’t seem healthy either; they are very thin with black masks covering their mouths and noses, and they have red eyes. The large gold enterprises are surrounded by high walls and have security guards stationed at the entrance. Meanwhile, the poor climb up the steep hills from the river with a gold pan in hand.

A Swiss as a Venezuelan colonel

Bruno is Swiss and was a colonel in the Venezuelan army. He has been living in Venezuela for over 50 years. His career path is unconventional: from Vietnam to Rwanda, he ended up serving as a prison director in southern Venezuela.

Bruno lives on the Cuyuní River. On his Encanto Cuyuní farm, not much remains of the once clear river – the Cuyuní magic, as he called it. Now it flows dirty brown towards Guyana. It is polluted with mercury and is just one of 16 heavily contaminated rivers in the country.

Gold was discovered early on in the region, along with other valuable metals. There is also oil in the area. Since the 19th century, these rich deposits have been the main cause of the land dispute between Venezuela and Guyana – and one of the reasons why there is no connecting road.

Gold mining on this scale is a relatively new phenomenon. It was only 20 years ago that gold mining in the Amazon region became more intensive. What was previously regulated by international companies fell into the hands of armed groups. And the government also got involved with the Orinoco mining project on the Orinoco River, with gold set to become the new oil for Venezuela. And so the disaster eats its way through the forest.

The area presents a sad, desolate picture. Life is marked by violence, as Bruno’s stories repeatedly confirm. You can’t be squeamish here. And you should have good friends. Otherwise, you won’t live long. Mass graves are just one example of this – most of the dead are never found, lost in the brown waters of the river.

Venezuela’s dire situation in 2015 drove many people to this area, where they could at least earn some money. The region survives on smuggling goods into neighbouring countries. Since then, the villages have been overcrowded, with many people sleeping in makeshift shelters.