Chickenbus

Gringos in Guatemala (and other parts of Latin America? I don’t know) refer to the second-class buses that criss-cross the country, stuffed to the gills and spewing exhaust, as “chickenbuses,” presumably because the passengers bring along anything and everything, including sometimes chickens. I haven’t seen any chickens, but maybe that’s because of the route I’ve taken.

The buses are mostly retired school buses from the U.S. Some of them have been repainted in bright colors; others have been painted on the front to indicate the routes, but still have the names of Midwestern school districts on the sides, which is a little disconcerting.

My ride from Xela to Panajachel on Friday afternoon was almost pleasant. It wasn’t too crowded when I got on, but by the time we got to Cuatro Caminos, the first major junction less than half an hour from Xela, there were no empty seats, at least the way I count. Having been built for children, and now serving a population that for the most part is not very tall, the leg room left something to be desired. But aside from that, it wasn’t uncomfortable, and it cost me about $3 for the 2 ½ hour trip. Hard to complain.

The most interesting part of the ride for me was seeing the variety of food available to buy. At almost every stop, vendors would get on the bus and walk up and down the aisle, calling out what they had for sale. Sometimes the bus would keep going, and they’d get off a little down the road, presumably to get back on another bus going in the other direction. My favorites were chicklets and hard candies, sold by the piece (one quetzal for 4); ice cream cones, which somehow were not melting; and boxes of chicken from Pollo Campero, a popular chain here—presumably the vendors had gone to a branch and bought a bunch of boxes, just to sell them on the bus.

On the way back, I didn’t know what time the buses left, so after lunch I just headed for the bus stop in Panajachel. As I arrived at the corner, there were several guys advertising their buses. I said I was going to Xela, and was immediately taken to an empty bus, which the driver said would leave in about 20 minutes. I settled into my seat, very pleased that it was so easy, and started reading my book. The bus filled up pretty quickly and we were off.

After about ten minutes, we came to a stop. I didn’t pay much attention, but after a few minutes it became clear that there was a line of traffic, none of it moving. I heard the ticket-taker tell a passenger that there was an accident ahead of us. After another ten or fifteen minutes, it became clear that we weren’t going anywhere; everyone had to get off the bus and walk past the accident (a bus and a pickup, it turned out) to get on other buses. OK, I can handle this.

But the bus beyond the accident only went as far as Sololá, the next town (actually the departmental capital) about 20 minutes up the road. From Sololá, I caught another bus to Los Encuentros, the town where the main East-West highway meets the road down to Lake Atitlán. And then from Los Encuentros, I could finally get a bus to Xela. Remarkably, I didn’t have to wait more than five minutes at any of the transfer points. On the bus to Xela, however, I learned what a full bus was. We were packed three to a seat (four if you count the nursing baby next to me); since I was on the aisle, I had one cheek on the seat and one off. For much of the ride, there were also people standing in the aisle, even though there really didn’t seem to be room, what with the third person in each sticking out into the aisle. For the next hour and a half or so, I sat like that as the bus went a little too fast up and down mountains and around a lot of curves, throwing me back and forth into the people on either side of me as I tried to hold on to whatever handles I could reach.

It wasn’t a terrible experience. I’m glad I did it, and I’m proud that I was able to negotiate the last-minute change of plans without freaking out (and in Spanish!). But next week, when I set off on the longer trip back to Guatemala City, with more luggage, I’ll be on a shuttle—I nice van that will pick me up at my door and take me directly to my hotel, accompanied by four or five other people.