Human Connections and Guest House

When traveling in some countries, it is common practice to have people on the street offering to sell you a tour, assistance to find a hotel/hostel, etc. When I traveled to Thailand, it was overwhelming and annoying and really took away from my experience, as Thailand is also known to have multiple scammers involved in this practice. It is common knowledge or given as advice to not talk to these type of people on the street, as you can not fully trust them. I'm an introvert at heart and can be shy at times, yet I love talking with strangers !

My first full day in Guatemala, I ran into a man on the street, with his smile and arm stretched out offering a tour agency brochure. He spoke perfect English. I smiled and at that moment in time, decided to just strike up a conversation with him instead of ignoring him or simply stating "No, Gracias."  Well, in Guatemala there are just a handful of street people offering their help and you know what, they were actually very helpful and friendly folks!  This man helped me find a guesthouse within my budget and gave me some tips.  I saw him later that day and we actually sat down and shared a cup of coffee together as I asked him about life in Guatemala.

Traveling to me, is about connecting with others. The human connection. To learn from one another. From Average Joe to making new friends in new situations, like riding horses in the Andes together. Some of my fondest memories are connecting with other foreigners. Even in my job here in the USA, I am fortunate to speak with people from all over the world enjoying the beauty of our National Parks in America. Such a grand thing in life!

When I arrived to misty, cold, high mountain region and the city of Coban. I could tell right away that it's not a hot spot for tourism. Nothing notable about the city, as it was just a regular city going about it's business. But because of this, I enjoy it for its normalcy.  I was tired from my long bus ride and didn't really have an idea of where to stay for the evening. It was twilight hour and I headed towards the town center.

I must have looked confused (and obviously lost even, with my backpack still attached to my back).  A nice man, named Tito, noticed me and asked me in clear English, "Are you looking for a place to stay this evening?" He worked at a local tour agency just a few blocks done and proceeded to tell me about some options. A hostel or a guesthouse. A guesthouse of his friend, Joshua, who was actually standing right there speaking with his friend Tito. We all chatted and walked together the streets of Coban towards Joshua's guesthouse (sort of like a bed and breakfast).

breakfast !

I chose to spend two nights at the guesthouse with the local guy, Joshua. Josh had actually lived in Seattle, Washington for several years doing electrical work and spoke great English. We walked to the markets, ate street food together, and chatted about music, politics, life, and Guatemala vs. USA.  In the morning, he cooked a large tamale and a fresh fruit smoothie. I went on a tour to a beautiful national park one day and stayed another night and also met his sister!  The next morning he walked me all the way to the bus stop on the other side of town. We still chat over the internet to this day and I get to practice my Spanish with him through the inter-webs of life.

His Website: Casa Ecologica Del Bosque and Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/arnoljoshua

Travel by Nick Miller

I wish I wrote this, but I did not. It sums it all up:

"Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. 

It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. 

Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is “Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.” It’s nostalgia for studying abroad that one semester. Travel is realizing that “age thirty” should be shed of its goddamn stigma."
~ By Nick Miller and his book Isn't It Pretty To Think So ? 

Chicken Bus Journeys

When I was researching about travel throughout Guatemala, I often heard the term "chicken bus". My other travel friends explained these "buses" to me and often involved the words: craziest ride I have ever had in my life, either you like them or you don't. I envisioned a large bus with crates of chickens strapped to the top and people crammed into the bus like sardines.

flickr user: https://www.flickr.com/photos/stefano60/

If you have the time, check out this great website all about Guatemalan Chicken Buses ! Basically, when American school buses have reached their "end of life" status, they are sold at auction and given a second chance to live their life down in Guatemala. Yet, they are no longer stuffed with noisy children, but are now public transportation found roaming the country. They are brightly painted, have added luggage/cargo racks, and seem to have a personality of all their own.

flick user: https://www.flickr.com/photos/76494864@N08/

I finally decided to give the chicken bus adventure a try. And an adventure it was.  I stood at the street corner waiting for Bus #1 with the name of the city I was headed to. Usually a "helper" is half hanging out the door and yelling the name of the city. I was headed North East to a city called "Santa Cruz De Quiche". People were helpful and often asking me where I was headed and would let me know when it was the correct bus ! However, sometimes they shorten a city to just one word and you need to pay attention, as the bus barely comes to a complete stop before it rolls on.


I got onto the bus and every bus seat had at least three adults moshed together (maybe more if the children sit on the laps). I travel with one small/medium sized bag and had to find my way to the very last seat at the back of the bus. People were standing in the aisles. With half of my body on the seat, and the other half in the aisle I somehow enjoyed the uncomfortable nonsense with the Mexican music blaring at me. I was the only "gringo" on this bus, the only white female. That's OK !

coffee fields !!!

 About three hours and three USA dollars later, I got dumped off in one city and needed to continue to head North to my next destination. I hopped up and got bombarded by the "helpers" speaking Spanish rapidly at me trying to push me towards my bus. Children and adults selling fruit, gum, watches, tostadas, ice cream, would come onto the bus and try to make a quick sale.

Two hours later, after passing through coffee fields I arrived to my third stop. This part of my journey was somewhat off the mainstream tourist travel and the roads were getting rougher and deeper into the mountains.

Stop number 4. I was trying my best to get from Sacapulas towards the city of Coban. Luckily, I found a mini-van type shuttle and I was now in the high country, among the mountains, the clouds, the mist, and the temperature was dropping. Somehow, I managed to sleep the most of this 3 hour journey that was probably only 65 miles long!

At one time, I counted 20 people in our mini-van shuttle! Kids were piled upon kids, babies sat on their mothers laps, eighty year old men,  and there was the man who forgot his bags of tortillas and then chased us down in his private vehicle ten minutes later. I would peer out the window watching the world go by, baby pigs chasing after their mothers, or watching the stray dogs romping around in the streets. What an experience !

THE WORLD !!!!!

I arrived to my destination around 5 pm (I started my bus journey at 8 AM) to a cold high mountain city. What exactly happened today again ? The day was not even over and I still had another random travel story to end the evening with.................To Be Continued.............................