As yesterday I had bought a map of both the town and the ruins, I knew that the entrance to the Ruins Archaeological Park was only a kilometer away and that the best time to visit was early morning, just after it opened at 8am.
I checked my emails and my bank account in the city centre, and found out that my bank was still playing stupid games, but I did my best to clear my mind and be at peace befor I made the short stroll to the entrance.
The road to the park is on the east of the town, and in the early morning it was nice to walk down semi deserted streets and then along the road, passing fields, stables and piles of rock and stone recently quarried for sale.
I arrived at the main gate at a little after 8:15 and the place was open and there were aready a number of tour guides eagerly awating their first guests of the day, but being short of funds and prefering some peace and quiet I ignored their offers and went directly to the ticket booth, which was a little further up.
You can get a park ticket for US $15, a museum ticket for US $7 and a tunnel ticket for US $15, but as there are only two 100 meter tunnels I decided that I wanted to stay out in the open and so visited the park first.
Having visited both, I feel that for once it would actually be better to visit the museum first, as it is smaller and holds a lot of the ornate stonework and statues that have been removed from the park, for matters of restoration, and once you see them they are a great appetiser for the main park itself, which you will want to give yourself at least 2 hours to slowly walk around, though you could rush it in an hour but why would you come all this way to rush it!
The forest walk to the entrance to the park was beautiful and serence, surrounded at it was on all sides by tall trees, and I had picked the day perfectly as the sun was gleaming bright overhead and a partly cloudy yet blue sky was a perfect setting for what was about to come.
There is a fairly reasonably priced and well looked after restaurant by the entrace, just inside the main gates and a little further up there is a clearing for picnics, but of course I was only interested in the park and the structures themselves at this stage, so even walked past the nature trail and a few meters further I caught my first glimpse of one a temple pyramid, at the far end of the path in a lush green clearing.
I almost ran once I saw it, eager as I was, but the moment I reached the edge of the clearing I stopped and stood still, trying to take it all in, but it was impossible.
Possibly the clouds, the rain, the tour guide and the hundreds of other tourists had somewhat diminished the power that struck me when I first saw Manchu Picchu, but here, completely alone, bathed in glorious sunlight and only the peaceful sounds of the forest around me was truly magical.
In the far distance I could see the occasional gardener with rake in hand, pulling the leaves and cut grass into small piles, but they were too far away to be anything more than a feint background blemish on an otherwise perfect vista.
I walked to the first of the pyramids and even as the due was still fresh on the cut grass, almost a lawn beneath my feet, I set up my camera with tripod ( I am soooo glad that I remembered to bring it this morning ) and happily snapped away taking shots of just the buildings and then of me.
But I did so almost in silence and I ensured that I drank in every sensation and feeling as I walked around and made my way to the next pyramid, even taller and just a few hundred meters away from the first.
Without having previsited the museum, it was a little harder to image the bright and vivid reds, blues and greens of the paint work that would have been all around me during the time of the Mayan civilization, but what I did envisage was a peaceful and happy place where children played with hoops and dogs while the adults made work during the day and held lively and energetic dances and ceremonies in the evening time, overlooked by a supreme ruler, fed and fanned at all times by his servants or slaves.
The although the road into the park was fairly level, the site itself was at the edge of a hill and the view from the side walls overlooked the lush green hills far into the distance and it must have felt very good to be a Mayan at the height of Copan's power.
Wandering round the park on my own, the tranqulity and serenity set my soul at ease, and had I the time and a picnic I feel that I could have just sat, ate, drank and sketched to my hearts content for hour upon hour, or at least til there were so many tourists that it became impossible.
Once past the first few pyramids I climbed up high and through the trees, and looking up I spotted the long thin strands hanging down the branches overhead, and the images it conjured up in my mind really reminded me of the movie Tomb Raider in Ankor Wat, and although they are continents apart the architects of the cities I am sure felt similar ideas and a desire to link the buildings and the nature together, being as similar as the are.
High up on the top of highest pyramid, I was able to sit where the Mayan ruler would have sat, overlooking his city and subjects, and it felt reassuring and safe.
I continued my walk and took more photos and all the time my mind was wandering in time and space, the worries of the day forgotten and at times I was not even sure If I stayed long enough if I would lose myself completely, but of course the longer I stayed the more tourists arrived and it was they who ended my reverie and brought me back to the here and now.
As I sat on the lower steps on the great wall, in the shade of a tree just like hundreds of Mayans must have done thousands of times in their life, the loud voices of a group of middle aged American Tourists caught my ear, along with the complaints of their aging father. He was not moaning about the sun, the mosquitos or the fact that the statues in the musem should have been left, no, he was saying that he had to phone home to ensure that they cleaned out the litter tray for hit cats. Typical, trust an American to have nothing more spiritual on his mind that cat litter when he is in surrounded and immerced by a history so profound that it had silenced me utterly for over an hour.
However, once I was back in the here and now I knew that once again felt the pangs of hunger so I headed back to get a breakfast and then to visit the museum.
The museum was partly hidden by trees and the entrance led you down a shallow winding tunnel that opened out into a mini open air stadium, the walls filled with sections of the city, restored and rebuilt to its former glory and in the centre was a huge temple painted bright red and must have been a sight to behold in the full sunlight.
Aparently the Copan that I had just walked around was a city build directly over an earlier version of itself, including, overlapping or just enlarging the structing already there, and it is in the original temples and walls, directly beneath the present city that the archaeological tunnels take you, and here in the museum they had removed and then fully reconstructed one of the major temples here in a clearing and then built the musem around it to preserve it for future generations.
Wanding around the museum, again without the need for a guide, I marvelled at the artwork, not so ornate or miniature, but distinctive, original and flamboyant in its designs.
Everywhere I looked could be seen sections of walls, temples or buildings that had been carefully transfered to this bunker and then like a jigsaw reconstructed back til it was one of the most impressive museums I have ever seen.
More photos ensued and even here, the wildlife of crickets, lizards and birds were free to roam just as they had for hundreds and thousands of years.
It was almost a shame when I had to leave, heading back to the hotel, or more accurately to an internet cafe, to see if there was any progress on my bank problems.
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