They let us into Guatemala!
So now we are in Guatemala. We should be 2 days into our 6 day hike through the jungle near Tikal, but in Copan we decided to splurge for the first time on a trendy tourist minibus to get to Rio Hondo instead of using the local buses to cross the border. At 1pm our 12 noon bus showed up and we gave our tickets to the guy and hopped in. When we got to and finished the border formalities, the bus guy said we would be in Rio Hondo in 2 hours. An hour and a half into the ride we stopped for a bano break and asked the driver if this is where we got off. "Get off...where...here...WHERE...Rio Hondo...ummm...we pasted that an hour ago...ummmm...I am going to Antigua....ummm...sorry....ummm...sorry....ummm do you want to get off here....
Maybe he stayed out to late the night before. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it doesn't matter. We shrugged, found a new house in Antigua, and signed up for spanish lessons.
And it is about time for this one. Goodness, we have been travelling through spanish speaking countries for over 2 months, sometimes it is fine, sometimes we don't see another foreigner for days. If it wasn't for Sean's spanish I would still be somewhere lost in Nicaragua...I'll give you an example...
It was the first bus ride in Nicaragua. We hopped on a crowded, sweaty bus - crowded and sweaty like if you crawled into a potato sack (that was strategically placed in a pizza oven) with 5 strangers-who if they did they remember deodarant in the morning by now it has been long lost to the sun. Anyhow, we are in the potato sack driving along with the windows open wide to find a little relief from the heat and inside smells while all the cars around us are inking black smoke like a thousand octopus (octopus...octopie...octopuses) when a hand is thrust inches from my snout and some words are spoken. "No, sorry." I say, as I have become accustomed to saying when the gesture requesting my limited funds be given over to someone who perceives themselves as less fortunate. The hand remains. Again I say "no." More words and the hand has yet to vaporize. I'm not happy with the persistence so I turn around to the look at the little man to whom the hand belongs. Again "No" I say. He stares at me. I at him. The surrounding people stare at me. Then the realization hits me like a bus. This is the bus guy collecting fares. "Ummm...uhhh...lo siento...ummm...wait..uh, here" I hand over my money and I know from the eruption of laughter that he and the four other gentlemen squished in beside me all realized what went through my head. Oops. Good thing the guy had a sense of humor!!
We spent the first five hours in guatemala on the highway in a minibus I have learned that the rules of the road here are different. I haven't pinned them all down, but I know for sure - a solid line does not mean 'don't pass' as in Canada - it merely means they ran out of dots. A double solid line means only that they must have had excess paint. There are mountains here. We drive around avalanches that are still dusty without slowing down and pass people on curves so blind you can't see the end of your own nose. But we are still here. Though rethinking the bright idea of buying an el comino...
Maybe he stayed out to late the night before. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it doesn't matter. We shrugged, found a new house in Antigua, and signed up for spanish lessons.
And it is about time for this one. Goodness, we have been travelling through spanish speaking countries for over 2 months, sometimes it is fine, sometimes we don't see another foreigner for days. If it wasn't for Sean's spanish I would still be somewhere lost in Nicaragua...I'll give you an example...
It was the first bus ride in Nicaragua. We hopped on a crowded, sweaty bus - crowded and sweaty like if you crawled into a potato sack (that was strategically placed in a pizza oven) with 5 strangers-who if they did they remember deodarant in the morning by now it has been long lost to the sun. Anyhow, we are in the potato sack driving along with the windows open wide to find a little relief from the heat and inside smells while all the cars around us are inking black smoke like a thousand octopus (octopus...octopie...octopuses) when a hand is thrust inches from my snout and some words are spoken. "No, sorry." I say, as I have become accustomed to saying when the gesture requesting my limited funds be given over to someone who perceives themselves as less fortunate. The hand remains. Again I say "no." More words and the hand has yet to vaporize. I'm not happy with the persistence so I turn around to the look at the little man to whom the hand belongs. Again "No" I say. He stares at me. I at him. The surrounding people stare at me. Then the realization hits me like a bus. This is the bus guy collecting fares. "Ummm...uhhh...lo siento...ummm...wait..uh, here" I hand over my money and I know from the eruption of laughter that he and the four other gentlemen squished in beside me all realized what went through my head. Oops. Good thing the guy had a sense of humor!!
We spent the first five hours in guatemala on the highway in a minibus I have learned that the rules of the road here are different. I haven't pinned them all down, but I know for sure - a solid line does not mean 'don't pass' as in Canada - it merely means they ran out of dots. A double solid line means only that they must have had excess paint. There are mountains here. We drive around avalanches that are still dusty without slowing down and pass people on curves so blind you can't see the end of your own nose. But we are still here. Though rethinking the bright idea of buying an el comino...
posted by Tanya K at
12:34 PM
1 Comments:
You write very well.
By
Anonymous, at 11.11.08
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