Mentally, I wasnt ready to board the chicken bus. Physically, I was already there. The bus was lightly crowded when we got on. We stowed our backpacks underneath the bus but I fought once again tooth and nail to take my guitar onboard. We found a row uninhabited towards the back of the bus and squished ourselves in. Anne was squished between the window and me while I was straddling my guitar and trying to make room for one to two more bodies next to me. Before I knew it, every seat on the bus was filled and people were starting to spill into the walkway. A few minutes later, there was barely a breathable space on the monster of a bus. People began rolling their windows down because the body heat, B.O. and humidity inside was quickly becoming overwhelming.
Anne and I were fairly exhausted at this point and merely expressed our discomfort to eachother through a few crunched facial gestures. Those standing on the bus however, seemed to be in high spirits. Uproars of laughter and jubilation came from a long isle of blue collar Guatemalans. I'm sure they were much more used to these experiences than we were. That being said, we by no means were unhappy or discontent with the situation. This merely was the way we knew to travel and any negative connotations were only because of some minor fatigue.
After what seemed like a half hour or so, we set sail on the Guatemalan highway. The bus would make intermittent pit stops as it left the city where some people would get off, but mainly so more people could be squeezed into the confines of the bus. The humidity and curious odors evaporated and flew out the open windows as we picked up speed and in its place was a refreshing night breeze. Anne and I ate a little bit of the fruit we had purchased earlier and after that, it was decidedly time to try and get some rest. We knew when the sun rose the next day, it would be another mad scramble of navigation, ATM searching and general adventure.
Alas, the night didnt pass quickly. I was able to knock out for what seemed like a few hours when the voices in the bus died down and the air turned crisp. The sleep was smooth but light as most of my bus, train and plane cat naps are, but it was exactly what I needed to get through the next step in the adventure.
Around some unknown hour late in the night/early in the morning, I awoke to myself choking on the air in the bus that had turned so thick and stale, I could have cut it with my pocket knife. After forcing a gulp of must down into my lungs, I surveyed my surroundings. In fact, I was still on the bus, but we were no longer moving. All the windows were down, but we were in a very hot part of the country (where I have no clue) and it looked as if we had been stopped for a while. My body was soaked with sweat just as about every other passengers was. Anne was still asleep next to me, but it looked like she was moving from side to side to combat the elements.
Happenings like this are also not uncommon for night transportation in Central America. I guess the drivers need to get some sleep too so they will dock at other bus stops for a few hours. Even if I wanted to get out of the bus, I couldnt. There was somebody next to me blocking the isle and the isle was stuffed with passengers sitting down on the floor trying to catch a little bit of rest. I resigned to my fate, closed my eyes and tried to get a little more sleep.
What seemed like at least an hour or two later, we finally got moving again. I had been sitting awake the entire stopover and was eager to get some airflow back into the bus. Shortly after we set sail, I was able to fall back asleep.
Around five in the morning, Anne woke me up and told me we had arrived. Sleep filled my eyes and my body felt like it was becoming a part of whatever it leaned against. Everybody else was filing off of the bus, so we proceeded in line. We had made it to Flores, but we were both in no shape to start the day. On top of that, neither was anybody else. The city was closed and not a soul stirred because it was just too early. The bus station we were dropped off at was spacious... as in there was a decent sized waiting room with a bunch of plastic chair/bench fixtures. When we saw this, we both once again looked at eachother, didnt speak a word, but understood that the misshapen little seats were going to be where we rested until a reasonable hour. She took one row and I laid horizontally on another. With a sweatshirt as my pillow, There I slept for the next few hours.
We both awoke around the same time and saw that the city was functioning. We gathered our bags and headed to the front of the bus station. The city waited for us across a bridge. Oh yeah, Flores was a little island. A tuc tuc driver sped up right next to us and asked us if we needed a ride. We took him up on it and he carted us into the town to a hotel where he told us we could store our luggage.
The hotel folk were kind. They let us leave our bags at their establishment so we wouldnt have to carry them all over the city. They also told us where we could go to get a bus ticket to Tecal, and kindly informed us that there were no ATMs in Flores or Tecal. We also asked about rates for the hotel, but they were much higher then our dwindling budget could swing. Especially when our little travel guide (that told us there were ATMs in Atitlan, Flores, and Tecal) wrote about pretty cheap camping in Tecal.
We got the bus information and found that we had a few hours to kill in Flores before our departure. We walked the city up and down. Circled the moat that separated it from the mainland, checked out a few of the little shops, and just enjoyed the serenity by the water. The town was very quiet and cozy, but most commodities were fairly expensive so we stuck to the basics. When the time was right, we met up at our departure point and once again boarded a minivan full of tourists.
The drive was supposed to be about forty five minutes, but as i said before, these minivans have very small tires and travel with high occupancy on rocky roads. We got a flat and had to file out while the driver repaired it. I offered to help, but he shewed me away and told me not to worry about it. A little while later, we were back on the road and heading towards Tecal.
When we arrived, we sought out the campsite and made our fort for the night. The sun was starting to set and we had decided to camp because we were told that if you buy a ticket into the temple park after 330 (or something like that) then you could use it the next day as well. When we went to buy the tickets, we found another unforeseen change from what our guide had told us. The cost of admission was well over four times what was stated in the book. Give or take a little for inflation, but this was ridiculous. That and it was clearly going to break the bank.
We discussed for a bit and realized that A. we were stuck in Tecal at least until tomorrow morning because there were no more inbound or outbound buses, and B. We are at one of the coolest archaeological sites in Central America and I guess we would be damned if we were to sit idly by and pass up the opportunity. So we bit the bullet and purchased some tickets.... but yes, this meant little to no food for the next leg of travel. We also arrived just a few minutes before the arbitrary time that allows you entrance for the rest of that day and tomorrow. The guard at the entrance of the park was very devoted to keeping these regulations enforced. He made us sit there until the clock struck the exact minute. We snubbed him on our way through in distaste for his ego trip.
No comments:
Post a Comment