OK, got it installed? Make sure the topographic option is turned on so you can get the feel of the mountainous terrain.
Lake Atitlan
Off we headed last weekend on our newest adventure, a three day excursion to Lake Atitlan. This time, however, we had a secure apartment to leave our belongings in and we only had to carry a tiny backpack with the essentials. Thank goodness, you guessed it, no box ó books.
We headed toward where we thought the chicken bus station was. It was near our apartment , but we only knew the general location so we ended up having to ask a local newspaper vendor for directions, which he gave so kindly. We didn't know what the chicken bus station looked like but knew we were on the right track when we started seeing hoards of them parked on the side of the road we were walking down. All of a sudden we were in the midst of chicken bus madness. Ten ¨rows¨, if you want to call them that of chicken buses, some coming, some going. There were people yelling at the top of their lungs as to where their chicken bus was headed, vendors yelling, everyone yelling.
We walked through the center of all the buses looking for the depot, or ticket office, someplace where we could buy tickets for our journey in an orderly fashion. We were finally approached by a Guatemalan gentleman in a bright red polo shirt with an official looking logo on it. He was one of the bus ¨station¨ attendants. I'm sure this was not the first time he's seen confused gringos wandering aimlessly through the jungle of buses and people. He knew exactly which bus to put us on, told us where we needed to transfer, and about how long the journey would be. We apparently would be paying later and did not need tickets.
What is a chicken bus you ask? A chicken bus is a chromed out or wildly painted school bus, the inside exactly like the one you rode to school in as a kid. They have luggage racks on the rooftops that run the length of the bus. They are equipped with numerous horns, whistles, and noise makers for the driver to use to a.) warn oncoming traffic that he is in their lane, b.) warn pedestrians that they are about to die, and (most importantly) c.) to let passing females know that they are hot.
Remember how fun the rides to school were if you had one of those bus drivers that would go 90 mph over hills and bumps? This was an extreme version. This was almost like when I was in fourth grade and the bus driver overslept by an hour and frantically raced around trying to make up time, kids jumping in the open door with the bus still moving, etc... These buses, however, have Indycar racing engines in them and drivers behind the wheels that would put the likes of Wheldon, Dixon, and Andretti to shame. Seriously, imagine an Indy car race
only with school buses, and the track being several thousand feet high on a two-lane cliff-edged highway under construction with no guardrail and you have a feel for the chicken bus experience. Here's a picture of the one we were on after I disembarked and kissed the ground:
The journey officially began after several other native Guatemalans boarded the bus with us. The last person to board the bus was a kid that jumped in the moving bus and hung out the open door grasping a metal handle affixed to the side of the bus in front of the door. This person was the true brains of the entire operation. The drivers, or as they fittingly call them here, ¨pilotes¨, just have to focus on driving and trying not to kill everyone. The sidekick, for lack of a better word, was responsible for yelling out to potential riders where our destination was while hanging out the door as we were moving, collecting payment, making sure people got off where they need to, knowing whose luggage is whose, getting said luggage on and off of the bus (without the bus stopping), and communicating with drivers in vehicles we are passing around blind corners to slow down so as to avoid head on collisions with oncoming traffic. He never wrote down anything to help him remember.
We were truly awestruck by the skills this guy possessed. If a person wanted on, the bus would stop for a brief second, long enough for them to hop on. If the people had belongings the sidekick would jump out, grab the huge sack of stuff and would climb up the ladder on the back of the bus with the sack or various other belongings balanced on his back. Meanwhile the bus would start racing down the curvy highway, the sidekick left to tie down the belongings while hanging on to the luggage rack for dear life. He would then climb back down the ladder and in through the back door of the bus in one fluid motion. The first time we took off with the sidekick on the roof we looked at each other in astonishment thinking the driver had left him behind. Seconds later the kid walked right passed us from the back of the bus. This procedure was repeated many many times. He would also scale to the roof from the open side door, of course while in motion, to retrieve people's belongings so that the bus only had to stop for a brief second for anyone to leap off, their stuff landing with a thud on the ground next to them as the bus accelerated away. This was some real life Jackie Chan craziness. I saw the speedometer get up to 130-140 kph which translates to 80-90 mph with the little guy climbing around up top.
Our ¨pilote¨ on the journey there was particularly insane. There was quite a bit of road construction going on that day so we had to stop several times for time spans of ten to thirty minutes and wait to start up again. The driver would off-road it around all the other vehicles in line in order to get to the front of the pack and then would, as if the the checkered flag had been waved, floor it, leaving everyone else in his dust. Ever seen a school bus burn rubber in third gear? He would drive through the construction zones like a complete maniac, and once out of the construction zone, he would cease driving conservatively: passing around blind corners, passing tour buses through thick fog, and driving on the wrong side of the road for long stretches at a time, barely avoiding collisions.
We headed toward where we thought the chicken bus station was. It was near our apartment , but we only knew the general location so we ended up having to ask a local newspaper vendor for directions, which he gave so kindly. We didn't know what the chicken bus station looked like but knew we were on the right track when we started seeing hoards of them parked on the side of the road we were walking down. All of a sudden we were in the midst of chicken bus madness. Ten ¨rows¨, if you want to call them that of chicken buses, some coming, some going. There were people yelling at the top of their lungs as to where their chicken bus was headed, vendors yelling, everyone yelling.
We walked through the center of all the buses looking for the depot, or ticket office, someplace where we could buy tickets for our journey in an orderly fashion. We were finally approached by a Guatemalan gentleman in a bright red polo shirt with an official looking logo on it. He was one of the bus ¨station¨ attendants. I'm sure this was not the first time he's seen confused gringos wandering aimlessly through the jungle of buses and people. He knew exactly which bus to put us on, told us where we needed to transfer, and about how long the journey would be. We apparently would be paying later and did not need tickets.
What is a chicken bus you ask? A chicken bus is a chromed out or wildly painted school bus, the inside exactly like the one you rode to school in as a kid. They have luggage racks on the rooftops that run the length of the bus. They are equipped with numerous horns, whistles, and noise makers for the driver to use to a.) warn oncoming traffic that he is in their lane, b.) warn pedestrians that they are about to die, and (most importantly) c.) to let passing females know that they are hot.Remember how fun the rides to school were if you had one of those bus drivers that would go 90 mph over hills and bumps? This was an extreme version. This was almost like when I was in fourth grade and the bus driver overslept by an hour and frantically raced around trying to make up time, kids jumping in the open door with the bus still moving, etc... These buses, however, have Indycar racing engines in them and drivers behind the wheels that would put the likes of Wheldon, Dixon, and Andretti to shame. Seriously, imagine an Indy car race
only with school buses, and the track being several thousand feet high on a two-lane cliff-edged highway under construction with no guardrail and you have a feel for the chicken bus experience. Here's a picture of the one we were on after I disembarked and kissed the ground:The journey officially began after several other native Guatemalans boarded the bus with us. The last person to board the bus was a kid that jumped in the moving bus and hung out the open door grasping a metal handle affixed to the side of the bus in front of the door. This person was the true brains of the entire operation. The drivers, or as they fittingly call them here, ¨pilotes¨, just have to focus on driving and trying not to kill everyone. The sidekick, for lack of a better word, was responsible for yelling out to potential riders where our destination was while hanging out the door as we were moving, collecting payment, making sure people got off where they need to, knowing whose luggage is whose, getting said luggage on and off of the bus (without the bus stopping), and communicating with drivers in vehicles we are passing around blind corners to slow down so as to avoid head on collisions with oncoming traffic. He never wrote down anything to help him remember.
We were truly awestruck by the skills this guy possessed. If a person wanted on, the bus would stop for a brief second, long enough for them to hop on. If the people had belongings the sidekick would jump out, grab the huge sack of stuff and would climb up the ladder on the back of the bus with the sack or various other belongings balanced on his back. Meanwhile the bus would start racing down the curvy highway, the sidekick left to tie down the belongings while hanging on to the luggage rack for dear life. He would then climb back down the ladder and in through the back door of the bus in one fluid motion. The first time we took off with the sidekick on the roof we looked at each other in astonishment thinking the driver had left him behind. Seconds later the kid walked right passed us from the back of the bus. This procedure was repeated many many times. He would also scale to the roof from the open side door, of course while in motion, to retrieve people's belongings so that the bus only had to stop for a brief second for anyone to leap off, their stuff landing with a thud on the ground next to them as the bus accelerated away. This was some real life Jackie Chan craziness. I saw the speedometer get up to 130-140 kph which translates to 80-90 mph with the little guy climbing around up top.Our ¨pilote¨ on the journey there was particularly insane. There was quite a bit of road construction going on that day so we had to stop several times for time spans of ten to thirty minutes and wait to start up again. The driver would off-road it around all the other vehicles in line in order to get to the front of the pack and then would, as if the the checkered flag had been waved, floor it, leaving everyone else in his dust. Ever seen a school bus burn rubber in third gear? He would drive through the construction zones like a complete maniac, and once out of the construction zone, he would cease driving conservatively: passing around blind corners, passing tour buses through thick fog, and driving on the wrong side of the road for long stretches at a time, barely avoiding collisions.
Luckily Melanie had taken her medication and was happily humming the Sesame Street theme song while drool dripped down the front of her blouse. No, she was actually conscious and coherent, but the meds kept her from getting motion sickness. I think the drugs helped keep calm her as well. She didn't once grab my arm and dig her fingernails in it, which was a minor miracle. The most amusing point of the journey for me was when Melanie bought a chocolate coated ice cream bar from a roadside vendor at one of our construction zone stops. They waved the checkered flag unexpectedly early and she was left to hold on for dear life while trying to hold on to her ice cream bar. I felt a little bad and wanted to help her to eat it but I was a little queasy. OK, I didn't feel that bad. I thought it was damn funny, but I tried not to make it obvious. It's damn hard to keep from sliding out of your bench seat while going 90 mph around corners. It's even harder while holding an ice cream bar that's dripping down your hand, trying to take occasional bites!
The last leg of the journey as we were winding down the mountain road overlooking Lake Atitlan was breathtaking. Three volcanoes surround the lake and the day we arrived they were most evident. The rest of the time, unfortunately it was quite cloudy. Lake Atitlan is about 5000 ft above sea level
and about 1000 ft. deep. It's crystal clear turquoise color and pleasantly warm temperature make it seem obvious why people end up staying there for years when they just went to visit. During rainy season, however, it stays cloudy most of the time. Makes for some pretty spooky pictures though.
Needless to say we were thrilled to make it in one piece to our first stopping point, Panajachel. We wandered, shell shocked, into the closest cafe to drink a cold Gallo and recuperate. The total bus time was about five hours. We had fun recounting the whole bus ride as we sat there and munched on our bacon cheeseburgers. After gaining our strength back we walked around Panajachel a little and then down to the docks where the boats took people to the surrounding villages. Panajachel is the main hub at the lake where all the buses go. You have to board a boat to go any of the villages around the lake as they are so remote. We did not want to spend our time in Pana because of it being way too touristy and the fact that there are dirty hippies everywhere, in other words, it reeks of patchouli and b.o. We decided to spend our nights in San Marcos.
San Marcos was a quaint little village that most tourists skip on their path around the lake. We looked at one place that had amazing views, the rooms built into the cliff sides. We had not made reservations though and they only had availability for one night. We ended up staying in a place considerably cheaper, appropriately called Posada Schuman. Melanie wanted to stay there especially because of the name. The room was actually quite cute if you don't count the little visitor, a huge hairy spider, we had on our first night there. I ripped Melanie's book she brought along to read out of her backpack and smashed him with all my might against the wall. Instead of running to me exclaiming ¨my hero!¨, all she was worried about were the spider guts all over her book. Ironically the book was named Not So Funny When It Happened.
We met two incredibly nice people on one of our boat rides that were just arriving at the lake. They ended up staying at Posada Schuman as well. They had met up on their journey somewhere in Guatemala and had travelled together ever since. Minsook, aka Teacher Michelle, as she was known in her home country by her English students, was from Korea. Manuel, was from Switzerland. We went out to dinner that night and had a great time talking about everything from
politics to whether it's okay for dogs to eat out of ¨human food bowls¨. It was really cool that they had connected together, as well as with us, speaking their second language of English. We were all in the process of learning Spanish and none of us spoke a word of it to each other the entire time... pathetic. We had a blast hanging out with them, hope to see them again in the future, and wish them the best of luck on the rest of their journeys.
The main attractions besides the dirty hippy watching at Pana were San Pedro and Santiago Atitlan. We visited both on our second day there. San Pedro is the place where everyone goes to score weed and supposedly they grow it pretty openly although I didn't see any or get offered any while I was there... seriously. We did see a chalkboard sign on a restaurant by the dock that advertised, ¨We Have Hookas¨. The teenagers that worked at the docks seemed way more loose and jovial as well. I was a more than a little suspicious (and a little depressed).
We went to Santiago on our second day as well, which happened to be market day. There were so many high quality arts and crafts it was amazing. They were also dirt cheap. We ended up buying a few things to take back with us and a hammock, as promised, for our stay at (Casa de Tortugas), which we will deliver when we make it back to the states to Tushar.
Our bus ride back to Xela was not nearly as fun. This driver apparently hadn't filled his nitrice tank before the journey. There was also not as much construction that day so it was a much quicker journey as well. All in all we had a great time. The lake was gorgeous, we made some great friends from the other side of the planet, and we got some beautiful souvenirs. Next week we're heading to Antigua, Guatemala City, and the incredible Mayan ruins of Tikal. Check back next week for another episode.
Chris
The last leg of the journey as we were winding down the mountain road overlooking Lake Atitlan was breathtaking. Three volcanoes surround the lake and the day we arrived they were most evident. The rest of the time, unfortunately it was quite cloudy. Lake Atitlan is about 5000 ft above sea level
and about 1000 ft. deep. It's crystal clear turquoise color and pleasantly warm temperature make it seem obvious why people end up staying there for years when they just went to visit. During rainy season, however, it stays cloudy most of the time. Makes for some pretty spooky pictures though.Needless to say we were thrilled to make it in one piece to our first stopping point, Panajachel. We wandered, shell shocked, into the closest cafe to drink a cold Gallo and recuperate. The total bus time was about five hours. We had fun recounting the whole bus ride as we sat there and munched on our bacon cheeseburgers. After gaining our strength back we walked around Panajachel a little and then down to the docks where the boats took people to the surrounding villages. Panajachel is the main hub at the lake where all the buses go. You have to board a boat to go any of the villages around the lake as they are so remote. We did not want to spend our time in Pana because of it being way too touristy and the fact that there are dirty hippies everywhere, in other words, it reeks of patchouli and b.o. We decided to spend our nights in San Marcos.
San Marcos was a quaint little village that most tourists skip on their path around the lake. We looked at one place that had amazing views, the rooms built into the cliff sides. We had not made reservations though and they only had availability for one night. We ended up staying in a place considerably cheaper, appropriately called Posada Schuman. Melanie wanted to stay there especially because of the name. The room was actually quite cute if you don't count the little visitor, a huge hairy spider, we had on our first night there. I ripped Melanie's book she brought along to read out of her backpack and smashed him with all my might against the wall. Instead of running to me exclaiming ¨my hero!¨, all she was worried about were the spider guts all over her book. Ironically the book was named Not So Funny When It Happened.
We met two incredibly nice people on one of our boat rides that were just arriving at the lake. They ended up staying at Posada Schuman as well. They had met up on their journey somewhere in Guatemala and had travelled together ever since. Minsook, aka Teacher Michelle, as she was known in her home country by her English students, was from Korea. Manuel, was from Switzerland. We went out to dinner that night and had a great time talking about everything from
politics to whether it's okay for dogs to eat out of ¨human food bowls¨. It was really cool that they had connected together, as well as with us, speaking their second language of English. We were all in the process of learning Spanish and none of us spoke a word of it to each other the entire time... pathetic. We had a blast hanging out with them, hope to see them again in the future, and wish them the best of luck on the rest of their journeys.The main attractions besides the dirty hippy watching at Pana were San Pedro and Santiago Atitlan. We visited both on our second day there. San Pedro is the place where everyone goes to score weed and supposedly they grow it pretty openly although I didn't see any or get offered any while I was there... seriously. We did see a chalkboard sign on a restaurant by the dock that advertised, ¨We Have Hookas¨. The teenagers that worked at the docks seemed way more loose and jovial as well. I was a more than a little suspicious (and a little depressed).
We went to Santiago on our second day as well, which happened to be market day. There were so many high quality arts and crafts it was amazing. They were also dirt cheap. We ended up buying a few things to take back with us and a hammock, as promised, for our stay at (Casa de Tortugas), which we will deliver when we make it back to the states to Tushar.
Our bus ride back to Xela was not nearly as fun. This driver apparently hadn't filled his nitrice tank before the journey. There was also not as much construction that day so it was a much quicker journey as well. All in all we had a great time. The lake was gorgeous, we made some great friends from the other side of the planet, and we got some beautiful souvenirs. Next week we're heading to Antigua, Guatemala City, and the incredible Mayan ruins of Tikal. Check back next week for another episode.
Chris
6 comments:
I'm so jealous I'm seeing GREEN!!! The lake is beautiful...ahhh I can smell the sulpher now. Tell Antigua hello for me! And if you get a chance, Fernando's Cafe has THE BEST coffee! And the dessert at Cafe Condessa is outstanding. It's located on the west side of the central park....
Thanks for the tips Bec!
Karen would have cried her eyes out on that bus ride. We would have ended up walking, me with all the luggage. I know we could use some great art work for cheap. All we have on our walls are family photos. Just to damned expensive here in the states.
By the way Chris the site will not let you click links on the pages. Just a note.
why do you want to smell sulpher?
~ The Fishk
Michael, you may have to disable your pop-up blocker because the links all work fine on every computer that I check them on.
And Señor Fishk, She is referring to the sulpher hot springs that we visited two weekends ago... I will be writing about them in my next post soon!
Thanks everyone!
Chris
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