Sunday, January 29, 2006

The plan today was to finish our interrupted trip to Perquin on the 7:00 bus. The alarm was set for 5:30 a.m. We got up at 6:20. But we were still packed and out of the room by 6:55, and the bus station was right across the street. Whether we missed the direct bus to Perquin or whether it no longer exists, we don’t know, but when at 7:00 an indirect bus rolled into our slot, we just shrugged and got on.

The bus ride was mayhem as usual. Some lady in front of us had a few dozen plastic thermoses or something with her when she got a seatmate, the seatmate had to have half of them in her lap as well. There was a crush of people riding in the front steps, right in front of our seat. Michael held some guy’s backpack and his easy acceptance of the offer and casual thanks adds credence to my theory that that’s just the way it is. You just hold things for people. But apparently you don’t get up for old ladies, even if you’re a young man.

The indirect bus meant we had to take a pickup (pronouce this pee-COOP or no one will know what you’re talking about) the rest of the way to our destination. A pickup is a regular pickup truck with a metal frame welded to it, over which is draped plastic sheeting to that forms a roof and walls. There are narrow benches along each side of the truck bed, and the back gate is removed, and steps put on. There is a bar along the middle of the “ceiling” for standees to hold onto.

There are pickups that are set up differently; sometimes everyone stands, for example, or sometimes it’s a more casual affair where folks just perch their butts on the completely unaltered edges of a truck bed. But the one we got on was as I described above.

For fifteen cents I bought a plastic bag of agua de coco (coconut water). This is simply a small plastic bag filled and tied. You bite away one of the corners of the bag and suck out your beverage. Assuming you want to drink your entire drink at that same moment, it really is ingenous and the trash left behind is minimal, if not in environmental impact, then at least in visual impact. Which is good, because when you’re done, you’re supposed to just throw your empty bag wherever you happen to be standing when you finish it. (I didn’t do this, by the way, “when in Rome” notwithstanding.)

Michael and I went to the very inside of the pickup, right up against the cab. Don’t do that if you want fresh air and/or a view because these vehicles really fill up. No matter how many times I experience this situation, I’m always surprised. Whenever we get to the point where every seat is filled and all the standing room is taken I always think that we’re full up and ready to go, but we never are. There are always more fares to be squeezed on.

The ride was an hour and I fell asleep. I woke up once to find a young man standing over me and staring intently at my hair. The woman breast-feeding a toddler got less attention than I did. Anyway, it was a reasonably comfortable ride and cost us seventy-five cents each.

We checked into a hotel, $5 each per night. It’s kind of a bizarre setup. Our room is built off a restaurant. Three of our walls are concrete, but the one separating us from the restaurant patrons is made of unfinished boards with at least an inch space between each two. The wall is built perfectly well, it’s just that the builder decided to leave spaces. Someone has tried to remedy that by putting strips of masking tape over the gaps, but it’s not terribly effective in ensuring privacy.

Our ceiling is the slanted underside of the corrugated metal roof, insulated with spider webbing, and there is a six-inch gap between roof and ceiling on two sides, through which we can see the house next door.

There are three beds in the room, each covered only with a bedskirt and a blanket, neither of which seems to have been washed recently. We are definitely going to be using our sleep sacks tonight. We don’t use them often, but when we do, we are really grateful for them.

But for all that, it’s not a bad room. It’s huge and has charm for miles. Now the bathroom, on the other hand… I don’t even know what to say. I am not sure which item is the shower and I don’t know how to use the sink. I think I’m supposed to dip up a basin of water from the big concrete thingy, but I’m not sure what to do after that. Do I wash my hands directly in the basin, or am I only allowed to pour the water over my hands? It’s a really embarrassing feeling, not knowing how to use a sink. I could just wing it – I mean, it’s soap, water, and a drain - but the sink is in plain sight of everyone and I don’t want to look dumb.

We won’t be here that long, so I just figured I’d skip the whole shower confusion. It’s not as hot here as it was in San Salvador and San Miguel, so I think I would be fine, except I worked up a real sweat tonight. We went down the road a ways to the fancy hotel and restaurant and the walk back was in complete and total darkeness.

It’s a two-lane blacktop road, but not a single streetlight or sidewalk, so we had to walk down the middle of the road dodging the occasional speeding car and listening for dogs. I can’t think of the last time I was in pitch blackness outdoors. Not knowing what might come at us out of the darkness, I was terrified. Michael didn’t say he was afraid but he set the pace, and I’ve never seen him walk so fast in my life. So I ended up getting all sweaty. Which is not so good if I’m afraid to experiment with the various buckets and basins that may or may not constitute the shower. Nice view of the stars though.

The town is small, with not much to do. We’re getting about a 50/50 friendliness response to our greetings. Michael made amigos with a profoundly drunk man this afternoon. He slurred all over us and really, really wanted to communicate something to Michael but he was a mess. I can’t imagine being as drunk as that man was. I’m certain I’d throw up and go to sleep long before I reached that stage. We had to work hard to get away from him. It was extra touchy because everyone was watching from their doorways and giggling.

HOURS ON THE BUS: 137

HOURS IN A PICKUP: 1

8 comments so far | Post a comment

Saturday, February 25, 2006 | Trula said...
Hi Megan! I saw your post on nappturality. Your trip is awesome!

Sunday, February 26, 2006 | Megan said...
Hi Trula! Thanks for visiting. I loved your story about your son and the skin-colored crayon... I teared up a little.

Sunday, February 26, 2006 | Billieboy said...
Hi kids, enthralling tale still, the photos Mike is taking seem to be getting better than better! Perhaps he picked up some pointers at the Exhibition, the photo of the wall, above, is excellent; I spent ten minutes just looking at it! An aside, Megan; I see that you note 25 cent hour and a half bus rides, as well as logging the time on bus,taxis etc.. Are you running a spread sheet of your trip expences?, only wondering, as it could be a deductable on income tax. My vision is getting better, for the last three weeks I've been able to read normal fonts.

Thursday, March 2, 2006 | Megan said...
Hi Billiboy... Yup, Mikey is briliant... I'm not doing a spreadsheet, just throwing in a few prices for interest and because I know some people are reading this in preparation for a trip. But I'm logging all transportation time for my own amusement, to be able to say definitively at the end of the trip that we've spent exactly this many hours on the bus. Glad your vision is getting better!

Saturday, March 11, 2006 | dia aka funchilde said...
yes, thanks for the little notes on expenses and such. i'm lagging behind you on bcs, but coming a similar route so its great to know what to look out for. baja seems pretty close to u.s. prices, but you can get good food cheap!

Friday, August 18, 2006 | edwin rodriguez said...
wao i was en perqun for the festival invierno it was so cool i was readin ur entry i miss mi home towm perqun i live in washigton dc born in perquin el salv

Saturday, August 26, 2006 | Enrique said...
Por favor no agregen banderas de ese partido, tengamos memoria historica.

Tuesday, January 9, 2007 | April Dawn said...
."I woke up once to find a young man standing over me and staring intently at my hair. The woman breast-feeding a toddler got less attention than I did." Being a breastfeeding mother of not one but two toddlers I have to say, only in America does breastfeeding get any stares. Loving the blog.

 

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Our hotel/restaurant, Perquin.

The morning sun through the wall of our room.

Writing this entry.

Perquin kids play futbol.

Streets of Perquin.

Streets of Perquin.

Anything provides a background for political statements. Perquin.