Central American Entry Fees

Here is what I had to pay when I entered each of these countries (July 2009).

Guatemala: ~$1 (I forget exactly)
El Salvador: free (and they don’t even stamp your passport)
Honduras: $3
Nicaragua: $10 [$7 to enter with lots of paperwork, then $1 to enter the border area in Sapoa at Costa Rican border (weird), then $2 to exit the country, paid only in Cordobas or US Dollars (so don't change your money until you get to the other side – I made that mistake)]
Costa Rica: free (but long lines at Penas Blancas, coming from Nicaragua)
Panama: $1 (for a stupid passport sticker you buy from an unofficial-looking guy who hangs out by the immigration area, but apparently you need it)

You get 90 days of travel within the four countries of “centroamerica:” Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua.

I Hate Tortillas

I’m getting sick of eating tortillas with every meal. They’re the thick, home-made ones and they’re tasteless and boring. I usually have to get through three or four of them for each meal because I feel bad about just letting them sit (and they offer a cheap way to get full).

In Guatemala and El Salvador, they’re thick, but across the border in Honduras, they’re the thin kind. Nicaragua also. Still pretty boring though.

Escuintla to El Obraje

As I was getting ready to leave at 7:30 am, I realized I had left my rain jacket in Jamie’s truck. Ahhhhh, there’s a major delay. I had to run down the street to the payphone to call Jamie, but he wasn’t picking up. I did this about every 15 minutes for two hours, waiting around for this deadbeat to show up.

And he finally did, at about 9:30, and then I left.

I stopped at a trucker restaurant for breakfast. I told the lady that I had a few bottles that I needed filled with water. The breakfast wasn’t good, but I got 4.5 L of water for free.

It was mostly a boring ride that day. When I stopped at a panaderia, a bread place, for lunch, a couple of small girls kept peaking out from behind a wall saying “Hello” and “How are you?”

I didn’t want to get to the border town to stay the night, so I stopped at El Obraje, a small town about a mile away. I asked at a comedor about accommodation. There was no hotel in the area, but I didn’t want a hotel anyway. I told them I had a tent. They told me I could put my tent up in the adjoining, roofed area next to the restaurant part.

I was able to wash my clothes in their big sink where they had a gutter system rigged up to bring in rain water. And then I “showered” in their bathroom, pouring rain water over the most necessary parts of my body with a basin. I took a poo in their toilet and flushed it down by pouring a basin of rain water into the bowl, as the tank didn’t work. A natural, rain water washing system.

The lock for the door.

Soap.

Toothpaste.  Use everything.  I cut open my toothpaste in San Pedro too.

The comedor was run by two sisters in their sixties, one of their sons, and his wife. The sisters were hard to read, and my interaction was limited because my Spanish sucks. They would mumble something rapidly, I would give them a big smile, excuse myself for my Spanish, and ask them to repeat it more slowly. Without a smile, they would repeat it with the same speed and mumble; no compassion for my situation. When I was washing my clothes outside, one of the sisters came up to the door. I turned around and smiled at her, and she shut the door. But at the same time, they were attentive to my needs, making sure I was comfortable by turning on the light for me when it got dark, offering me a glass for the gallon of water I bought, and asking if I needed anything else before they went to sleep.

The son and his wife were much more friendly. Alvardo came to offer me mosquito repellant, and hung around to give me advice about the border and El Salvador. He was interested in my trip too. I complimented him on his bicycle, especially his front rack, and asked where I could get one like it.

The town was tiny. It was only a few scattered comedors (cheap restaurant), tiendas (small shops), and houses with a big abandoned gas station in the middle.

Getting a place to stay at a comedor was great though, since I was able to eat there too.

Guatemala Lost Photos – CENMA Market

Here are some more recovered photos that I lost.  These are of the CENMA market in Guatemala City.

Guatemala Lost Photos – Biking

I was able to recover some photos that I hadn’t backed up before I had my camera stolen.  This guy copied all my photos to his computer, and then deleted everything with me in it.  Kind of weird, but I´m grateful that he kept some.

View before a storm

In the clouds

Trash on the Mountain

I love this dog.  Look how sad he is!!  His posture, his eyes, and tail between his legs.  I fed him with some of my bread, but he remained sad.  The saddest dog I´ve ever seen.

CouchSurfing in Xela, Guatemala

House and Small Farm on the way to San Pedro La Laguna

Descending to Lago de Atitlan

Lago de Atitlan

San Pedro La Laguna to Escuintla

I took the boat from San Pedro to Santiago instead of riding on the road around the volcano because I was told it was dangerous. Banditos.

When I got off the boat, I was excited to get on my bike. It had been so long. I was ready to ride. I rode up a steep, cobbled street from the dock into town. It was probably only 100 feet, and at the top, I pushed a little harder to get over the lip in the road. But I lost my balance and toppled over, me and my bike, still clipped into my pedals, and in front of the center of town. As I was on the ground, I looked around to see who noticed. A lot of eyes were on me, the gringo dressed in all black with an egg-helmet on his head, lying in the street with his pack-mule. My pride was hurting. It was the first time I had fallen since I got these clipless pedals.

I descended from the lake into the lowlands for about an hour, covering 30 miles quickly and easily. Then I got on the Pacific Highway, CA-2, a boring road. The air was steamy. I thought it would be a flat, easy ride, but I had to climb a lot. I struggled – I must have lost my legs. I was slow.

I stopped at a roadside pineapple stand and had a lady slice up one for me. Her hands were all over it, so when she was done, she dipped them in her bucket of water. Brown water.

The road was killing me. So boring. There was nothing around. I started feeling an urgent need to poo. I figured the pineapple had sped things up. But there was nowhere to go. I found a ditch that was partially obscured by a tree, offering some privacy. I took off my gloves, got my toilet roll, and prepared myself for something weird. I pulled down my sweaty bike shorts and that disgusting crotch-sweat smell hit me. My forearms and face and shirt were dripping sweat. And I had to add to the unpleasantness by doing a very natural shit in the ditch. It was bad. A fresh pile of human brown. I felt bad but I figured the rain would wash it away.

Downsizing to a New Setup

Before Eleanor came to visit, I was realizing I didn’t need my two front panniers. Everything I had packed in there was light, and it could all fit into my two rear bags. I didn’t like how easy it was to detach the front panniers. The rear ones, on the other hand, are strapped down underneath my tent and sleeping bag. Getting rid of the front panniers would give me a couple less things to worry about. I could also get rid of my front rack, which is probably about 5 lbs.

And I wrapped a green strap around my seat tube.

Inspired by the possibilities of downsizing, I took a hard look at everything else I was carrying. Did I really need it? Was I realistically going to use it? The other major item I decided against was my pot and homemade stove. With food so cheap and so good and so easily available, I couldn’t see myself cooking up some pasta while passing up a much tastier meal for $2. Plus, then I wouldn’t need to carry food or fuel for the stove. It was a pretty easy decision.

The downside to losing my front panniers is that all the weight is in the rear. The handling of the bike is less stable, and I feel bad for the rear tire because the weight from my butt is on it too.

And although I’ve lost some weight and bulk, I’ve upgraded on water carrying capacity, and water is heavy, so it’s hard to tell if I’m actually lighter.

I’m thinking about some way to carry my extra 1.5 L water bottles in the front. I was thinking about attaching two hose clamps at two points on the fork, on each side, but that would mean I would have to screw and unscrew them each time I wanted to fill up. Getting a cheap rack here would also be an option, and I might be able to strap my sleeping bag onto the top of it too, so I can spread the weight more evenly across the bike.

Vacation From Bike Touring

My bike touring has been sporadic after splitting with Ryan. To summarize: From Austin, TX, I got a ride down to Valle de Bravo, Mexico, spent a week there, rode one day to Toluca, got a bus ride back to Texas, rode my bike and hitch-hiked for two days, then got a ride to Phoenix, spent a week there, got a week-long car ride through Mexico, spent almost a week in Tapachula (on the border of Guatemala), rode my bike for two days, then Eleanor arrived and we took buses around Guatemala for almost two weeks, then I spent about another week and a half in San Pedro, trying to learn Spanish. So, in the past two months, I’ve been biking fully-loaded for only five days.

It’s been a really long break and I’ve been getting excited about starting it again. After being almost a month in Guatemala, having two cameras stolen, and realizing the expense of buying one here, I’m feeling frustrated and restless. It’s got me motivated to get out of here, get to El Salvador, and get a move on with this trip.

STOLEN: Another Camera

I bought the same model Sony Cybershot DSC-W55 camera on eBay for $100 and had it shipped to Eleanor. I thought this was a good plan because the camera came with everything that was stolen (camera, battery, and memory card), and also included a protective case! I still had the charger and USB cable, so I could pair it all together and have the complete set.

I was going to be at least a week in San Pedro on Lake Atitlan, so I used the Spanish school’s mailing address, and had Eleanor ship it to me, regular mail. I checked on how much it would be with UPS: $80. Regular mail: $8. I decided I didn’t want to get postal insurance because filing a claim with them is a lot of work with only a slight chance of reimbursement, although I was worried that the Guatemalan postal service might “lose” it.

After a week, I was pumped when I got the package in San Pedro. I literally threw my fists in the air with my head down, and let out a quiet “Yes!” I opened up the box and found a neatly-folded white t-shirt. I raised it up to check if my camera was underneath. It obviously wasn’t since it was a shallow box, but I was desperate. My eyes wide, and mouth agape and panting, I let out a quiet “No! No!” I rented my hair and cursed. My feelings went in waves of anger and then disbelief.

My camera was my one big problem; I didn’t care about having my phone stolen, but I needed a camera; I need to document this trip. Realizing I had spent $200 on two cameras that promptly got stolen, and that I would need to spend $150 to $200 more to get a third – $400 total – it killed me.

Initially, I thought it was the Guatemalan postal service that screwed me. However, the t-shirt gave it away. It said “Samuel Gompers High School Physical Education.” I looked up Samuel Gompers and found that it’s a school in the Bronx, NY and that there’s a postal service hub in the same zip code that probably deals with international mail coming from Philadelphia. Some asshole American postal worker stole it. Eleanor had written “Shirt” with a worth of $12 on the customs form on the package. The postal worker probably scanned it, saw it was a hot item, stole it, and then rectified the situation by replacing it with what was written on the package – “Shirt.”

When I got online to email Eleanor about what happened, I saw Ryan was on gchat. I was still fuming, so I ripped up the chat window with CAPITALS. Ryan came back with news of Ashley wanting to date other people. We had both hit low points, financial and emotional, and we both wept – for my lost camera, and his lost girlfriend.

My real low point, though, came when I took a special trip to Panajachal, across the lake, to buy a camera. A good one, like a Canon Powershot model that’s a couple years old, cost 2000 Q, which is $250. I looked on eBay – $125. The expense of these stolen cameras really hit me. I decided I didn’t want to buy it in Pana, a tourist town, and I’d wait to get to Escuintla, a non-tourist, commercial center. All grumpy, I returned by boat to San Pedro. I was frustrated I had wasted $6 round-trip to get to Pana, annoyed at the Guatemalans along the road who were offering me services and handicrafts, and angry at the tuk-tuks honking and getting in my way as I was trying to walk. It was a dark day for me. I must have had a terrible grimace on my face.

I found an okay deal on a camera in Escuintla. All the retail places were “muy caro,” so I was lucky to find a pawn shop with a used Panasonic Lumix DMC-FS5 for $150. I saw online that this camera sells for about the same price in the US when it’s new. Oh well, it seemed to be the best deal going, plus it had a 1 GB memory card included and no additional tax.

So now I’ve spent about $350 on cameras.

Bike Touring vs. Backpacking

After backpacking around Guatemala with Eleanor by bus, I have a renewed appreciation for bike touring. I enjoyed traveling in the camionetas and pickup trucks since they were cheap and we were treated like everyone else; just another passenger paying the same fare. However, a few times we found ourselves helplessly on the tourist track and helplessly relying on some tourist-specific vehicle.

For instance, when we were in Semuc Champey, we asked our hostel for advice on how to get to Flores, our next stop and the base for visiting Tikal. They said we would have to backtrack to Coban because the more direct road is slow and in disrepair. But they would be able to arrange a ride for us, 125 Q each, which is ~$15. Although It would be a 10-hour journey, $15 is steep for Guatemala. Feeling helpless, we agreed to our “only” option, paying 125 Q at the hostel. A mini-bus with “Turismo” stamped on the front picked us up the next morning. The hostel passed on 100 Q per tourist-head to the driver, taking a quick 25 Q per person off the top for “fixing” the ride. The “Turismo” minibus brought us to a tourist distribution area in Coban. About ten tourist minibuses converged, tourists and backpacks were swapped, and then driven out for delivery. It made me wonder if the direct route to Flores really was slow and in disrepair, or if the scheme was to scare tourists into taking easy, expensive “Turismo” minibuses by giving them false information and then funneling them through the tourist distribution network. Either way, we had to deal with a 6-hour ride in the back of a tourist-crammed minibus.

On that same ride to Flores, the driver stopped at a roadside comedor for lunch. He decided for us. Our one option. As we, the tourists, lined up to be served a choice of chicken or beef (along with other side items), the driver sat down and had his “off-menu” meal brought out to him. We had to pay 30 Q, which is cheap but inflated because I know the standard price for a meal at a comedor is 15 Q ($2). The driver didn’t pay. He had brought the comedor great, helpless, tourist business. All our white faces subsidized his meal.

Throughout our trip, we were helpless and paying an inflated price for almost all of our transport, although it’s not always as obvious. Sometimes there’s a posted price, which you pay, but when you watch what the locals pay, you figure out there’s a “local” price and a “tourist” price. After our 1-hour boat ride across Lake Atitlan from Panajachal to San Pedro, the captain stood on the dock, collecting money as people got off the boat. As I stepped onto the dock and got in line to pay, I watched him wave on a few locals as he recognized the approaching white faces who would subsidize their trip. 25 Q each, $3.

Note: All these prices are cheap comparatively, but that’s not the point. The problem is that it’s discrimination; gouging you for your white skin, and seemingly-bottomless pockets.

When you’re traveling by bike, you aren’t helpless to “Turismo” minibuses or their tourist pricing. Your options are almost limitless, the only limit being the road. You can eat anywhere you want, and you won’t be one in a herd of tourists, helpless and willing to pay any price. And you’ll be traveling in areas that don’t see many white faces, not along the gringo trail where the locals have become jaded. Not only are you special because you look different, but you’re also traveling a long way by bike, which is weird and admirable.

Bike touring offers more freedom than backpacking and gives you the ability to avoid some of the low points of traveling.

Bait-and-Switch at Corazon Maya

I’m getting one-on-one Spanish tutoring at Corazon Maya in San Pedro. I’m doing 4 hours per day, which costs me $65 per week, about $3 per hour. It’s an amazing price, and Corazon Maya was generous to let me leave my bike with them for two weeks while I traveled around the country with Eleanor.

I’m staying at the school in one of their cabanas because of the unbelievable price and since its got direct access to the lake. Chema, the main guy at Corazon Maya, told me it would cost me 15 Q per day, which is about $2. I lucked out because I got the biggest cabana, which has a propane stove and private bathroom, since the others were taken.

I’ve settled into a routine here. I get tutoring between 8-12 in the morning, then I cook up some pancakes on the stove and pour yogurt and honey on them, then I go to the lake to wash my clothes and wash myself, then go to the centro to play basketball, use the internet, and buy fruits and vegetables, then I cook pasta or eggs or improvise some vegetable mix for dinner, and then settle down for the night either writing some blog entries, planning out my upcoming route, or doing some extra Spanish study.

After a week of being here, Chema asked that we settle up. He tallied up the costs, and it came to 720 Q, $90. The amount he quoted for accommodation was double what we had agreed on. He told me 200 Q per week, which is almost 30 Q per day, $3.50. I asked him what had happened to 15 Q per day. Chema told me that he had been “confused,” and that he talked to his mother about it, and she said that since I have a propane stove, and propane is “very expensive,” I need to be charged more. He said that usually it costs 300 Q per week to stay in my cabana, but he’s been able to convince his mother that 200 Q will be okay. Dude, 100 Q would be even better. Actually, that’s exactly what we had agreed upon in the beginning.

200 Q per week is not a bad price, but I feel I was given the bait-and-switch. When I arrived, 15 Q per day (100 Q per week) was the price. I settled in and got comfortable. Chema had an entire week to tell me about the new change in price, but he waited until pay day, and is putting it on his absentee mother (I can’t take it up with her since I don’t know where she is), and the price of propane. And he’s offering the excuse of being “confused” instead of sticking to his word.

I try to focus on the good things I’ve gotten from being here, but I still have a bad taste in my mouth.

Winning Respect on Court

There’s a basketball court in the center of town in San Pedro, and I wanted to get active, so I went out there to play in some pickup games. I showed up and asked some guys who were sitting on a bench by the court, “You wait to play?” I figured that would take care of communicating my intention to participate. They nodded to the simple-speaking gringo. A minute later, the bench cleared. All the guys who had been waiting went on court to play a new game. I was left behind, so I sat down, neutered.

I waited, and on the next game, one of the guys gave up his spot to me. He just gestured to me and pointed towards the court. He knew I was an idiot. And on that first game, I ran around like one. I played really shitty.

But I stuck around, especially because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, quitting so early, walking away with my tail between my legs. And I’m glad I did because I got better. I realized that I was the tallest one out there, which is a major advantage against the small, quick Guatemalans. I got most of the rebounds, and could easily score once I posted up close to the basket. I was a white, average-height Shaq.

There was one guy, Juan, who obviously thought he was a badass. He wore AND 1 basketball shorts, a cutoff t-shirt, and Nike Jordans (while many of the others were just in jeans or cargo shorts, and walking shoes), and he’d shoot a three-pointer almost every time he got the ball; many times he’d make it. At one point, Juan drove to the basket for a layup, but I was there, and I swatted the ball as it came off his hand, sending it way off court. I blocked the shit out of it. I felt huge.

“No en mi casa!”

There was a moment of silence. Then somebody made a joking comment to Juan, probably something about how he just got stuffed by the gringo. Whatever it was, I think I definitely earned their respect.

Robbery and Renter’s Insurance

As we packed up to leave Antigua to go back to Guatemala City, I put my camera and cell phone in the top zippered pouch of Eleanor’s backpack. We got a camioneta (chicken bus) and I put the backpack in the stowage area right above us. When we got to Guatemala City, I wanted my phone to check the time, but I couldn’t find it in the top pouch. I figured it was somewhere else in the backpack; I’d check for it later.

On the bus ride from Guate to Coban, I replayed in my head where I had put my phone. I was sure I put it in the top pouch. Then I thought about my camera. I didn’t remember seeing it when I looked for my phone. Ah, I’m sure it’s in there; I probably didn’t look for it well enough.

When Eleanor and I got to our hotel ($4 each) in Coban, I did another search. My phone and camera were not in the top pouch, or anywhere else after I tore through the rest of the backpack. I told Eleanor, and she seemed to take it harder than I did. I was in disbelief. She was being compassionate. I had one brief intense feeling of anger, and then I returned to feeling odd about it. How the hell did this happen?

Was it lost or stolen? I have no idea, really, but I’m sure I put it in the top pouch, which is, unfortunately, probably the easiest part of the bag to open up. The pouch wasn’t open so the phone and camera didn’t just fall out. And it’s odd that two valuable items would have been lost, but nothing else in the top pouch disappeared (Eleanor did have her iPhone in there too, but we were lucky she didn’t lose that!). It must have been stolen, and the only time that the bag was marginally out of sight was when it was directly above us on the bus.

The phone was old and kind of fluky after the Mississippi rain, but it was unlocked and quad-band, so I could use it in any country. I had bought a Guatemalan SIM card with prepaid minutes. It was handy to contact CouchSurfers and in case of emergency. In losing the cell phone, I also lost my (alarm) clock and calculator.

My camera was a more intense loss. I had all my photos on it. Luckily I had backed up most of them on to my flash drive, but I lost about three days worth of photos, including playing soccer in Tapachula, going across the border, and biking through the clouds and through the villages of Guatemala. It sucks to lose that. I’ve heard other victims of camera loss say “The worst part is losing the photos.” It’s true; the photos are irreplaceable, but for me, the worst part is losing the camera. It’s not a large monetary loss since I paid $80 for it on craigslist (it’s unfortunate I only had it for about a month), but the problem is that it’s harder to replace it down here in Guatemala. Craigslist is dead here and electronics are more expenisve. I want my camera back!!

But I bought renter’s insurance which covers property theft or loss, even when I’m traveling. I felt better since I knew I could rely on that, and get some money back. I just had to get a police report, and file the claim. So I waited until I was back in San Pedro, after Eleanor left, when I would have some time. My Spanish tutor accompanied me to the police station to help translate my story for the police report. After probably 45 minutes, I got the signed and stamped report, and I went to the nearest internet cafe to get it scanned so I could send it to my insurance company.

Then I used Skype to call and file the claim, and estimating replacement costs of $100 for my camera, and $50 for my phone. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Fortunately, your policy covers your stolen items. However, the policy has a $250 deductible, so we wouldn’t be able to reimburse you since your estimated replacement cost is only $150.” Shit. I’m paying $13 per month and I wasted my time, my tutor’s time, and the police officer’s time creating that police report. All for nothing.

I could pay $2 more per month to get the deductible lowered to $100, but even then, the best I could do is get $50 back. I’m sure the insurance adjuster would come up with a much lower replacement cost figure than my $150. Probably $80, and I’d be back in the same situation.

What sucks too is that the $250 deductible is per incident. So you have to have a lot stolen at one time to make renter’s insurance worthwhile. If I lose something else valuable down the road, I can’t add my camera and phone to the claim; I can’t bundle the insurance claim. So the only reason I’ll be keeping this insurance is for my bike.

Eleanor Visits Me!!

My sister, Eleanor, decided spontaneously to visit me in Guatemala for almost two weeks. And it only cost her $240 to fly out here from New York. Although it’s exciting to meet so many new people when you’re traveling, it’s a big relief to see someone you know so well. After she arrived, I went into hermit mode, not wanting to talk to fellow travelers or hear where they’re from or where they’re going or what their craziest adventure was. I was really happy just to spend time with Eleanor and do what we enjoy most: have treats, make fun of people, laugh, and watch Baywatch.

Drivers in Guatemala

Before coming here, I was warned about crazy Latin American drivers, especially chicken buses that would be tearing down the road, overtaking cars around dangerous mountain turns. These buses always assume right of way, and when they’re overtaking, they lay on the horn as a warning to oncoming traffic. And so what would happen when I end up being caught between a chicken bus behind me and another in the oncoming lane? They don’t like to slow down.

I bought a rear-view mirror that attaches to my sunglasses because of this. And in Tapachula, I was anxious about the road conditions and crazy drivers that I’d face. But I’ve been happy to find that roads have been smooth, and drivers have been good.

The chicken buses are definitely crazy though. They don’t obey speed limits; they push their speed to the brink of losing control.

But what I’ve found is that drivers here expect the unexpected. They’re used to obstacles, like cars deciding to park temporarily on the highway, slow vehicles, donkeys, and pedestrians, since there aren’t any sidewalks and most people walk. Driving is a much more fluid experience here than in the US. In the US, it’s more about obeying the laws, like driving the speed limit and stopping at the stop signs. Here it seems it’s more about personal responsibility; go your own pace and do what you want, just don’t hurt anybody. I’ve seen people drive right through “Alto” signs lots of times; it seems like it’s more of a guideline than a rule.

I think one of the key differences though is that in the US, drivers are really only used to dealing with other cars. So although drivers here are different, I feel pretty comfortable about cycling because I’ll just be one more of the many obstacles along the road.

Guatemala City: Travel Information

I was intimidated by what I read about Guatemala City. A steep increase in the murder rate in 2009, 60 reported robberies per week on the buses, and criminals specifically targeting tourists. All the gringos in Guatemala I had talked to had arrived at the airport in Guatemala City, and gone straight to Antigua.

Guatemala City isn’t a nice place, but it shouldn’t be intimidating either. I asked for help and directions a lot (in really shitty, stumbling Spanish) and everyone was friendly and helpful, and a few times, they walked me to my desired destination. Also, many times bystanders, curious about the gringo and his question, would come over to participate in the answer; I would have a small gathering of Guatemalans helping me out.

Here’s what I learned:

Transportation:
Taxis aren’t really expensive, but you can get around by bus pretty easily for dirt-cheap. $6 vs. $0.15. And the bus gives you a cultural experience and an adventure.

Taxis:
1. Amarillo: The yellow cabs are metered. This is a good option so you don’t have to haggle.
2. Others: Everything else you have to haggle for a price. The one taxi I took from Tikal Futura to Zona 15 cost me 50 Q, about $6. There was a line up of taxis. I asked the first guy how much. He said 70 Q. I rejected that and moved to the next taxi in line. 50 Q. Walking away from the first taxi probably helped me get a better price with the second, although I’m sure it was still a rip off.

Buses:
Camionetas: (aka “Chicken Buses”) These colorfully-repainted old American school buses are the best low-cost long-distance travel option. They go to destinations like Antigua, Xela, Panajachel, and San Pedro La Laguna. The destination will be posted on the front. A 4-hour trip from Guate to San Pedro costs 35 Q, which is about $4.30. You get on, and sit down without paying, and then the driver’s helper comes around later to collect the fare based on where you’ll be getting off. People hop on and off along the way. The bus will stop and pick someone up anywhere along its route if they give them a signal to stop.

Red Buses: These are the most common city buses. They’re usually jam-packed with people hopping on and off all the time. It’s 1 Q to ride, which is about $0.15. You pay the driver when you get on. There’s a route number posted on the front along with major stops. For instance, Ruta 83 goes through Zona 1 along 10a Avenida to the airport, La Aurora International. That’s a handy one so you can avoid taking a taxi. The route it takes to the airport is different though. One is posted as “83 Terminal,” and the other is “83 Bolivar.” Like the camionetas, these buses will pick you up anywhere along its route if you put out your hand to signal them to stop.

TransMetro: These are the new, clean, and safe green buses. There are definite stations with platforms, and many times, pedestrian bridges. You have to have a 1 Q coin to deposit into the turnstile. There are lots of TransMetro police at the stations who can help you, and for safety, there is usually at least one on board each of the buses. It’s really easy to get around on the TransMetro. The station TransMetro station “Santa Cecilia” is close to where you can pick up Camionetas out of Guate. Many of the Red Bus routes go through “Trebol” or “Plaza Municipal,” and these are both good places to pick up the TransMetro.

Tip:
It’s not good practice to trust advice given by guys who work for a Camioneta. They want you to ride on their bus. For instance, if you’re looking to get to San Pedro La Laguna, and you ask a guy who’s working with a Xela-bound bus, he’ll tell you there aren’t any San Pedro buses today, or that the next one is leaving in four hours, or something. “Get on this bus. It’ll take you close to where you need to go.” Maybe it’s true, (I had to take a Xela-bound bus, get off at Kilometer 148, and then get a minibus, then a pickup truck, and then a tuk-tuk to get to San Pedro) but be weary. I was told by an Antigua Camioneta guy that buses to Panajachel only go Monday through Friday. It was Saturday. I didn’t believe him, and five minutes later, a Panajachel bus rolled up. Distrust paid off.

Airport Tip:
If you’re arriving into La Aurora International airport, you can find the Ruta 83 bus stop outside the departure entrance. If you’re at the departure entrance, facing away from it, walk across the area where taxis drop people off, and to the left, and you’ll find a walkway leading down to the road. At the end of the walkway, turn right, and you’ll see the bus stop. It’s probably only about 100 meters from the departure entrance to the bus stop on the road.

If you want to get a Camioneta out of Guatemala to Antigua, Xela, Panajachal, etc, make sure to take Ruta “83 Bolivar,” not “Terminal.” Take “83 Bolivar” to “Trebol.” It’s a major transfer point so many people will be getting on and off (although it would be good to ask someone to confirm you’re getting off at the right place). When you get off the bus at Trebol, look in front of you and to the left for a big pedestrian bridge and green TransMetro buses. Most people will probably be going that way, so you could just follow the crowd. You’ll go up the stairs to the pedestrian bridge, and then go down the stairs to the bus platform where you’ll deposit your 1 Q coin into the turnstile (but don’t worry if you don’t have coins because you can get change at the counter by the turnstiles). Go to the platform on the right (not “Direccion Centra Sur”), and take the bus one stop to “Santa Cecilia.” Then ask around for where you can find a Camioneta that will take you to your desired destination. Camionetas to Antigua seem to leave about every 5 minutes.

Accommodation:
Hotel San Martin: Located in Zona 1 on 16a Calle, close to 8a Avenida. It’s clean and the people who run it are friendly and helpful. The rooms come with two twin beds. You have to share a bathroom, but you get a towel, a bar of soap, and a roll of toilet paper. It’s only 50 Q, which is about $6, for two people. Yes, $3 each to be in the center of Guatemala City. I think it’s 40 Q, $5, for one person. The hotel is well-positioned for bus access. Long-distance buses going North to places like Coban, Peten, and Puerto Barrios leave from around this area. The hotel is also close to 10a Avenida where a lot of the Red Buses come through, including Ruta 83 which goes to the airport. The “Plaza Barrios” TransMetro station is three blocks away on 18a Calle and 9a Avenida. There are some great comedors in the area too. I highly recommend the one on the corner of 16a Calle and 9a Avenida.

Ceiba Tree

Badass photo!  This is the ceiba tree in Tikal.  The Mayan tree of life.

Livingston Sucked!

It would seem Livingston would be a town to visit.  The Garifuna people, a mix of Carib and African, live here with their unique culture.  But it was disappointing.  The town is small, dirty, and there’s nothing to see or do.  The beach is trashland.  And the Garifuna we met were hustlers, trying to force some service on you and then tell you that you owe them something.  “I led you to this restaurant.  Give me some money, just a little money.  I´m hungry.”  These guys wouldn’t leave you along either.  I rarely give in to a beggar like this, but the Garifuna put the pressure on.

The best thing in Livingston is this weird, nightmare.  Chicken man with diaper vomiting coins.

Eleanor and I got treats.  I got a banana split.  I pointed out to Eleanor that things like this, a banana split, is something you cannot get when you´re alone.  I imagined myself alone at a table with a banana split in front of me.  All that whipped cream.  All for this one lonely guy. “Mmmm, I’m going to treat myself today”  Followed by tears.

And here’s one of the few activities available in Livingston: walk.

Tikal Photos

Here are our photos from Tikal.  The entrance fee was really expensive in Guatemalan terms being $20.  Tikal was cool, although we decided they rank the lowest in the ruins we visited behind Macchu Pichu and Angkor Wat.  It´s difficult to say whether it was worth the really long bus ride to get up there.

Tree-top view.

Mysterio!

We took the ancient Mayan ruins very seriously, imagining their way of life and paying homage to their sun god.

And we had fun!!

Free desktop wallpaper.

Security guards at the entrance to Tikal.  Guards carry huge guns here.  One is at every gas station, and in Guatemala City, there´s one at every store.

Houses along the road on our way out of Tikal.

Semuc Champey, Flores, Poptun Photos

Read Eleanor’s blog too.

The turquoise pools of Semuc Champey, which Lonely Planet said some say is the most beautiful part of Guatemala.  It was a nice swim, but it was a pain in the ass to get out there.  I would say it wasn’t worth the effort.  Lago de Atitlan is more beautiful and much easier to get to.

This is me in Flores, the jumping off point to Tikal.  I hate carrying a backpack.  Cycling with panniers is much easier.

Here’s Eleanor swimming in the pond at Finca Ixobel in Poptun.