Well, I survived another shuttle-bus ride. In hindsight, I guess it wasn't that bad, but for the 7 hours of being squashed into a micro-van designed for 8 people, with 15 other backpackers, it did seem less than ideal. Our driver was a Madman, driving through packed Guatemalan City streets, missing dogs and kids by inches, squealing the bald tires descending the mountain passes at high speed, and passing transport trucks and chicken buses like he was competing in a computer game. All the time, he played bad Salsa music at ear-splitting volume. I had to laugh when Justin Beber came on the air, and our Spanish speaking driver started singing along to "Baby, Baby, Baby….".
I had one of the better seats with a window that opened, but this only allowed black diesel smoke to be blown in my face, and gave me an earache from all the honking and road noise. With my legs pressed tight into the seat ahead, and my hips and shoulders squashed into the person next to me, my ass and legs went numb after 2 hours into the 7 hour trip. Luckily the others on the bus were a pretty good group. The 15 of us got to know each other to pass the boredom, and ease the physical discomfort of being squashed like sardines into the ancient micro-van designed for 8 people. Did I already say that there were 15 of us in an 8 passenger van? I don't want to repeat myself.
I had to close my eyes when we passed 3 transport trucks in a row on a blind corner. Then it got worse..... As night fell, all the drivers on the road went insane. Watching headlights coming at you at high speed on a mountain road in Guatemala is not a pretty sight. I felt better when I just closed my eyes, and turned my iPod volume to maximum to drown out the road noise and blaring radio. To keep their sanity, I noticed some of the young backpackers were imbibing in bad wine and cheap prescription drugs (which apparently are dirt cheap and don't require a prescription here). The rest of us just suffered.
I was a relief when we all just fell out of the van at the border, and stumbled into the line to pay the bride to get our Passports stamped at the Guatemalan-Honduras border.
Survived yet another bus ride in Central America,
Dave
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