Thursday, November 22, 2012

Ancient history, Volume XXXVI

Previously, flaming tequila shots, canyons and putting saints in the freezer.

The day after we learnt that St Anthony is the source of husbands was a travel day. According to our trip notes, we should "Be prepared for anything". And anything is pretty much what we got... 

We left San Cristobal on a local bus and headed towards the border. After a couple of hours, it was off the bus and onto a collectivo, which took us from the closest major town to the closest SMALL town. From there, it was into taxis, which took us to the Mexico-Guatemala border. After walking across the border, we crammed ourselves into tuk tuks (things that are not fun: trying to hold your 20kg pack with one hand while riding in a speeding tuk tuk.).

The tuk tuks dropped us on the side of the road where we waited around for a while before Arizona Boy suddenly announced that we were to board a chicken bus. After throwing our packs up on the roof (EXTRA fun), we crammed ourselves into the limited number of available seats and HOLY HELL, my knees still haven't forgiven me.

From there, it was onto ANOTHER chicken bus, and this one was sliiiiiightly more interesting, in that karma attacked Arizona Boy. The whole way through the trip, he'd been talking about how much he hated children. So of course, he got stuck sitting next to a small child. And said small child sat veeeeeeeeeery quietly for approximately half the bus ride, and then promptly projectile vomited all over himself and all over Arizona Boy's feet. And Arizona Boy was wearing thongs/flip flops/jandals. Said small child then looked enormously guilty, and shortly thereafter, slunk off the bus.

Sara and I, meanwhile, giggled hysterically. Because we're evil like that.

Shortly thereafter, we were off the chicken bus and standing around on the side of the road while Arizona Boy disappeared off into the depths of a small Guatemalan town looking for a hose to wash his feet. The plan had been to take another chicken bus, but the next bus to come along was a first class bus. We briefly got excited, until we realised that said first class bus was completely full, and that we would be standing in the aisle, holding onto the parcel shelves, all while wearing our packs. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

This experience was made even MORE enjoyable by the fact that the very overweight woman sitting next to where I was standing was passing the time on the bus trip by clipping her fingernails. And her fingernails kept HITTING ME IN THE ARM. FOR ABOUT A FREAKING HOUR. How she had any fingernails left to clip by the end of it is completely and utterly beyond me.

Eventually, we were off that bus, and onto yet another chicken bus for the trip down into Panajachel. And, just when we thought we were finished, we had to take tuk tuks from the bus station to the hotel. Thankfully, that wasn't very far.

Understandably, after AN ENTIRE DAY spent on nine (NINE!!!!) different forms of wheeled transport, we went slightly insane. And so, that evening after dinner, we decided that - considering it was pouring with rain and we didn't want to try and work out who would stay behind trying to hail another tuk tuk - we would cram all EIGHT of us into the one tuk tuk. Sara ended up on the parcel shelf, there were three of us in the back, two in the front, and two people sitting on laps. And then the driver. Who thought we were bonkers. It's entirely possible that we were:

Next time, the details of Panajachel. (Also, I promise there's no puking in the next installment.)

Also, happy Thanksgiving, America. And happy Thursday/Friday to everyone else!!

K xx


  1. How strange. I commented last night and it's been replaced by something that seems a little spambotty...

    1. That's weird. I definitely didn't get a comment from you besides this one, not even in spam!


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