Friday, January 6, 2006

We had an alarm set for 6:15 but were awakened before that by two terrifyingly loud explosions. We had no idea what was exploding or why or whether or not it was cause for alarm but we didn’t hear any screams or anything, just silence. In fact, we didn’t even say anything to each other until later when we were officially awake.

When I peeked around the drape, I saw a sunrise in progress that was so amaing I had to call Michael immediately, and we went out on the terrace to watch it. As beautiful as sunrises are, I can never remember that fact when the time comes for me to wake up at some ungodly hour to see one, so a good sunrsie is rare and special to me. And when I do see one, I’m always a little tired or cold or uncomfortable in some way and somehow that brings the beauty more to life. Plus dawn is always so full of promise.

For us the promise was a day on the bus. San Pedro to Guatemala City, Guatemala City to Rio Dulce. Ten hours. We said goodbye to our groovy little room and left the key in the door as requested. We had a small amount of trouble finding the bus stop – all we knew was that the bus stopped in front of the Catholic Church. We stopped and asked an old man sweeping the street in front of his store. He told us the bus left at 10:00 a.m.

Having gotten up at literally the crack of dawn, we didn’t really want to hear that we’d have to wait around until 10:00 a.m. So then he told us there was a bus that left at 7:00 a.m. and asked us what time it was now. When I told him it was 7:40, and asked him if the 7:00 bus had let, he said yes, but there was one at 8:30. I asked if there was an 8:00 bus, and he said there was a bus at 9:00. We must not have looked like we liked that, because he then told us there was one at 8:30. Finally we just thanked him. Some other guy scooped us up and walked us to the bus stop, where we were able to board a bus at 8:00, as planned. You really have to pick the right person to ask for help from.

As the second and third person to board, we had our pick of seats and we thought we chose wisely… third seat back, behind the driver. Wrong! The road winds around the edge of lake Atitlan, hitting all the towns along the way. As chicken busses do, we stopped at almost every corner to pick up more passengers. The front seats filled up quickly, with two people to a seat. Then people started stacking up three to a seat, which as we know is the custom… except there were multiple seats in the middle and back that were completely empty.

Michael was sitting by the window and I was next to him when an old Guatemalan man in a button-down shirt and embroidered pants sat next to me. Why us? I mean, not for our sakes, but for his? Why, when there are whole empty seats to enjoy? Why us when we are the two biggest people on the bus? Well, he sat there for a while and when someone in one of the seats in front of us got off the bus and left just one person in a seat, he moved up there.

Michael and I spread out again, but it wasn’t for long. Soon a sturdy Mayan lady sat down next to me and more than a little on top of me. She did not seem concerned but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. (This lady is actually sitting on me. Does she not know she’s sitting on me? Is it because she resents my presence? Does she want me to stick to the deluxe busses with the rest of the foreigners? Or do people here just sit on each other as a matter of course? Could I get away with sitting on her instead?)

I had taken a chewable Dramamine at the start of the ride because I figured the windy road might not mix well with my pre-existing nausea (there might be something to this idea of me having nausea problems when I get up too early) and that knocked me out. Is Dramamine supposed to make you sleepy, or is it just my imagination?

Anyway, I missed out on most of the four-hour trip to Guate since I was asleep, but it’s hard to sleep soundly when you have to periodically clutch the seat in front of you with all your strength to keep from sliding off your seat entirely as the bus rounds some insane switchback. So in that haze I do recall the crowd on the bus thinning out considerably, until the only three-person seating on the bus was Michael, me, and some young guy who perched between our seat and the seat across from us. I discreetly glanced back and yes, there were dozens of completely empty seats to choose from. Why??

So, finally, Guatemala City again. We were let off at a completely random destination in Zona 8 and had to take a taxi to the Fuente del Norte bus terminal in Zona 1. On arrival at 12:15, we found there was a bus scheduled to leave at 12:30, so we hurried inside to buy tickets. I stood in line and Michael ran out to try to rustle up some food for us as we hadn’t eaten yet today. The ticket line took forever, but luckily for us, 12:30 was just a suggestion. We pulled out of the station in a hand-me-down Greyhound bus at 1:00, with one napkin, a styrofoam tray of the world’s messiest empanadas in red sauce, and a six hour trip ahead of us.

I slept through a lot of this ride too, but that only made it more surreal. There was music, I remember. Loud, loud music, and bracketed by almost endless talking. It was a radio station, and sometimes we drove through areas that didn’t pick up the signal, so we would listen to static until the signal came back, no matter how long it took – ten minutes, twenty…. Once I woke up and someone was preaching over the sound of the static. Just one of the many random people who board busses and give a loud presentation and collect money for goods or blessings. We’d already had a guy selling pamphets about curative herbs. For only ten Quetzales. Yes! Today it is only ten Quetzales! Have you had digestive problems? I saw Michael shake the preacher’s hand as he went by.

We picked up people even though we had no room for them and they stood in the aisle or perched on people’s shoulders and leaned on their heads. It began to rain. Everything was very green outside the windows, some kind of pastureland with horses. Michael woke me up to show me a rainbow.

Once I woke up to find we were stopped and the emergency window open next to the seats in front of us. Three or four women were outside chanting, “Mangos, mangos, mangos,” or something, while women who’d actually made it onto the bus were chanting about other foods for sale, I don’t even know what, and the radio station was still blaring static. Whether it was the Dramamine or just the fact that I was up at 6:00 I can’t say, but even that pandemonium wasn’t enough to keep me awake. The next time I opened my eyes, they were all gone and it was raining again.

Michael was awake the whole time and he said that every single woman who'd come on selling food had paused by his seat and placed her basket on his shoulder. He said it was the worst day of bus travel yet. I just found it bizarre like a Larium dream.

We arrived at Rio Dulce around 7:00 p.m. Rio Dulce is not a terribly nice place, but perhaps that’s an unfair statement to make about a place which one has arrived at after dark, tired and irritable, and not knowing where to stay. Not to mention that the last time I pulled into Rio Dulce, four years ago or so, everything was closed, no one was around, I was vomiting and my bus had hit a bobcat or some other kind of big cat, which the driver had then thrown bleeding to death into the luggage hold.

After a couple of particularly bad false tries, we got a clean room at a hotel with a decent restaurant attached. So, yeah, Rio Dulce has a lot to struggle against for a good review from me, but I’m not really giving it much of a chance as we plan to take a lancha to Livingston tomorrow.

HOURS ON THE BUS: 120.5

HOURS IN A TAXI: 1.25

 

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Chicken bus. They really are gorgeous.

Sunrise over Lago Atitlan.

Sunrise over Lago Atitlan.

Sunrise over Lago Atitlan.

Sunrise over Lago Atitlan.

Sunrise over Lago Atitlan.

Sunrise over Lago Atitlan.

Rainbow from the former Greyhound.