We ain't Chicken!

Transportation in Guatemala is remarkable.  If you want to go anywhere in the country, you can--pretty inexpensively!  Granted, that means you may be flagging down a pick-up truck on the side of the road or traveling by the infamous "chicken bus" system.

 

What's a chicken bus, you may ask.  They are retired American exported school buses that have been painted and customized to the bus operator's liking.  In my opinion, they were retired because they couldn't pass an emissions test in the US.  The wake of black smoke that is left behind a bus can leave you gasping for fresh air.

 

Our bus, that that took us from Xela to Los Encuentros, was painted green with red accents and was so affectionately named "Carmen".  Most of the chicken buses proudly bear a female name on the front.  We discussed this among our female friends here and decided there wasn't anything appealing about having a bus named after you.  "Honey, you're as wide as a bus." or "Sweetheart, you smell like a bus."  See.  Nothing good.

 

Anyway, these buses are notorious for packing in as many people as possible and for the drivers to be a little, let's just say, aggressive.  Some advised to use a private bus service, but living on a budget and knowing many friends who rode the chicken system unscathed, we decided---we ain't chicken! 

 

The morning started earlier than expected.  After hearing the news about the potential protests, we called for a cab to pick us up at 4:30 am to catch the 5:00 am bus.  Our cab driver was a little late, but made up for lost time by barreling down the deserted cobblestone streets to the bus terminal.

 

Terminal Minerva, the hub of the chicken system in Xela, was nothing more than a dirt field next to the shopping center.  Since we arrived when it was still dark, it was difficult to see.  But, the smell of exhaust confirmed we had reached our destination.  Our cab driver validated the departure time of 5 am with a man "working" the terminal.  He assured our direct bus would be coming around the bend in five short minutes.  Excellent!

 

Twenty long minutes later, no bus.  With a growing concern of being held up by the protests, we decided to split up.  Robert checked with each of the bus drivers and I sought out another worker who may have had a better idea of the schedule.  After many different stories and ten quetzales (about $1.25), we were on a bus to Guatemala City, where we could transfer to another bus to Panajachel.  However, we didn't leave before we had a chance to see the "taxi" with blown headlights pull up to the station in the dark.  The driver was quite innovative. Not to be stopped by something as benign as blown headlights, he attached a metal tub to the top of his car, where a fire raged to light his way.  I can't believe we didn't get a picture!

 

When we left Xela, there were only four people and our giant bags on board.  We sat in different seats across the aisle from one another (the furthest we had been apart in weeks!).  Exhausted, but unable to sleep, as we wound through the highlands of Xela like a bat out of hell.  White-knuckled and convinced that the "this bus is surveyed by cameras" sign was left from its time in the states, we were comforted by the "God bless this bus" sign. 

 

Our bus came to an abrupt stop at Los Encuentros, where my very friendly and very ripe seat-mate explained our journey together had come to an end.  Our stuff, Bert, and I spilled into the aisle, where my bag became stuck between the floor and the seats.  I had created a serious bottle-neck at the front of the bus.  After much kicking and maneuvering (not to mention oodles of laughing), we freed my bag and exited the bus--to everyone's delight!

 

We jumped on a bus to Panajachel, and threw our bags on top.  We were separated again on this bus, where Robert and I towered over the Guatemaltecos.  As we looked around at our fellow travelers, we both confirmed we had exceeded the maximum capacity of 50 posted at the front.  Surely, it too was left from its stint in the US. We arrived at Solola and changed buses again. 

 

So, four hours, two transfers and 40 quetzales (about $5) later, we arrived at our destination.  We were relatively unscathed (to be shared in the Great Escape-uncensored) and proved for sure --that we ain't chicken!