An everyday adventure

When I started my blog, I also started to read other blogs and now I follow 10-15 different ones.  One of my favorites is a charming blog written by a family friend who’s currently on exchange in Switzerland.  She uses many different formats in her posts, and recently she’s done a few in second person (and by recently I mean October-ish).  When you read the post, you can imagine yourself having the experience and it’s more personal and interesting.  I love that idea, so I’m going to use it today as I enlighten you all about one of my favorite things in Guatemala: the chicken bus.

It’s 7:30am, but it’s not too early for the Guatemalans.  Everyone is out and about, heading to school or work.  Lots of people walk, but many others, like you, have chosen to take the chicken bus, or la camioneta.  You dodge traffic in the busy 7^th Calle and walk past the big outdoor market, whose stalls are opening as vendors arrive and set up.  Behind the market you find the chicken bus mecca—a colorful parking lot of refurbished school buses that are a very popular form of transportation all over Guatemala.  Each bus is painted bright colors, save the occasional yellow one, and plastered with stickers on the inside and outside, which could include anything from crosses to verses to sexy ladies to bus conduct expectations.  Their destinations are indicated by a large, seemingly handwritten (though legible) display above the front window.  Aided by the ayudantes’ auctioneer-style calls ringing in your ears—“aChimalaChimalaChimal!”  “GuateGuate!”  “PastOres! PastOres!”—you find the bus that’s heading the right direction, squeeze between it and the adjacent bus, and climb in.  Looking around, you find a seat.  The bus already had several people, so the driver pulls out as you dig in your bag for the fare.  A trip to Pastores, a town about 15 minutes out of Antigua, costs only Q2.50—about thirty cents.

The mecca.  This is one of several rows of buses.

The driver of the bus is aided by an ayudante (which literally means helper), whose job is actually quite impressive.  He hangs out the door of the bus calling out its destinations (in a voice that appears to have been specially developed for this particular vocation), hops out to help the driver cross blind intersections or make tight turns, and collects payment from the passengers.  The camioneta duo seem to have some kind of telepathic communication, and you wonder if the ayudante has teleportation powers as well, because they always seem to be aware of the other person’s thoughts and whereabouts, and even when the ayudante jumps off the bus and seems to disappear as the bus zooms forward, he manages to reappear in the doorway before long.  You sit back, enjoying a seat to yourself, when the ayudante begins to walk down the aisle to collect the money.  You pay him, and then look out the window at the beautiful Guatemalan countryside.  You pass corn fields, clotheslines surrounded by plants, and green patchwork hills with cows grazing.  After cruising down the highway for a few minutes you arrive at your destination and as the bus is pulling up you walk to the front, signaling that you need to get off.

Here's a couple buses.  You can see its destination above the driver's window (this one says Antigua Guate/Alotenango)

The day goes by, and when you’re ready to come home in the late afternoon you know that the bus won’t be quite as peaceful as it was in the morning.  You walk to the main road and wait until the bus comes careening around the corner.  Stepping in, you see that it’s already full of people and you sit next to a young woman holding a baby.  You’re soon sandwiched on your other side by an elderly farmer holding a towel in his weathered hands.  After a couple minutes, the ayudante squeezes himself through the people standing in the aisle to collect payment, and you wonder how he can possibly remember who’s already paid and who just got on (except for you, because your white skin makes you look pretty different from the rest of the commuters).  You actually enjoy the crowd of people crammed into the bus, though many other gringos beg to differ.  It’s an authentic taste of Guatemalan culture.

As you come back into Antigua, the bus bumps along the cobblestones, crowding its way through narrow roads and around tight corners.  The roads in Antigua are mostly one-way, except for when a car decides they’re not, and there aren’t many right-of-way rules so sometimes it seems pretty haphazard.  Luckily the cobblestones force vehicles to travel more slowly, and this significantly calms things down.  If you look out the window you’ll see that you’re often heading straight into the path of other cars and getting out of the way just in time.  This type of driving is perfectly common in Guatemala, and while it would be terrifying in the US, somehow you’re not worried.  The bus pulls back into its mecca and you get off, heading back through the market which is now in full swing.  Smells of fried chicken fill your nose and if you’re not careful, gritty exhaust fills your eyes as you glance at the garbage on the ground, homeless dogs skillfully avoiding the traffic, and the row of shoe-shining boys.  You soak it all up, thankful for another Guatemalan adventure.