Chichi to Nebaj

A common method of transportation in Guatemala is the mini-bus or the 15-passenger van. When I say 15-passenger van, I give you this reference because this is how car rental agencies in the States refer to them. This does not mean that there are 15 passengers in them in Guatemala. There were 25 in one I took yesterday - this not uncommon. There are two people working on the vehicles - the driver and the helper, who collects the fare, stores the luggage, and tells the driver when passengers need to make stops.

I left Chichicastenago yesterday and was so happy, because it had not been a pleasant stay for me. So when I got on the mini-bus and it rolled through the arch at the north end of town, I smiled and said a prayer of praise. While I was excited to be leaving town, there were some problems with this trip. When I found the vehicle going to Quiche, I asked the helper what the fare was. He said USD1, which surprised me because I had paid 32 and 39 cents respectively on two trips of similar duration (30 minutes) earlier in the week. I asked him if he was serious and he said yes, rather snottily, so I asked him what to do with my bag. This vehicle was different from many vans in Guatemala where you throw your bag on top and they strap it on. This was a mini-bus with seating for about 30, similar to car rental shuttles if they took out the luggage racks. This mini-bus had rows with four seats, an aisle, and then a single seat. In the aisles were half seats that could be folded up or down as necessary. On the side above the rows of four seats there was a luggage rack. The helper told me to put my (50-lb.) framepack up there. I pushed it snuggly into the rack in the only space available. I took a single seat across and back from the bag. The helper checked the bag.

After we left Chichi, we slowed down and a guy on the side of the street threw a bag of garbage at the helper. This I had not seen before. I´ve ridden with live chickens, but never garbage. But, if we were going to stop at a landfill on the way, I figured that was an efficient use of resources. We did not stop at a landfill. About five minutes down the road, we passed a beatiful mountain valley. Ten paces in front of the 30-foot sign that said "Nature reserve. No littering - Q500 ($70) fine," the helper through the back out the window. Maybe I am too Western. Maybe I am a hippie raised in Oregon. But I thought that was appalling. The 30 other people on the bus had absolutely no reaction - as if it hadn´t even happened.

10 minutes later, the driver slammed on the brakes, which caused bumped everyone up in the air a foot or so, as well as forward. This happens fairly often Guatemalan roads. The sudden braking also dislodged the luggage, sending some things flying. I saw a bag hit the aisle. It looked it might have touched the arm of the woman sitting across the aisle from me and one row up. I asked the woman if she was okay and she nodded. No one else had any reaction at all - none. They just kept looking forward, silent. This included the seven women traveling with the woman, one of whom seemed to be her mother.

Trash thrown in a nature reserve. Bags flying through the air. No reaction. It was like the NYC Subway. There was the time I was on the subway and there was a woman about 22 standing a few feet from me. She wore heavy make-up that made her look 35 and I thought, "wow, she looks really old with that make-up." It was only after that thought that I noticed that she was wearing a black leather tutu with her underpants on the outside of the tutu. On the NYC subway this is not considered weird. Maybe that would have elicited a reaction on the mini-bus to Quiche, but I´m not sure.

I realized that the bag was mine after I spoke with the woman. The seats across from me were empty then, so I moved the bag there.

The ride continued in silence for about five minutes, until the woman turned around and said that the bag had hit her and she had a headache and she should get some money for that. I said that it was terrible how the driver had stopped like that and that she should talk to him. I thought she was commiserating with me her fellow passenger, but then after she looked back at me a few times, I realized that she was asking me for money.

I was very cash poor at that point and had nothing to offer her, but more than that, what responsibility did I really have? The driver had stopped short and violently and he was ultimately responsible for the vehicle. The helper had told me to put the bag there and had secured the bag. The woman herself had not tried to move or protect herself.

In any event I just wanted to be done with the trip. The woman started talking with her compansions and that was not a good sign because I was behind them and would not be able to get out quickly with my bag.

Indeed when we descended in Quiche I was the last one out. I paused a bit before leaving to give them time to clear. I asked the helper where the bus to Nebaj left from and he, quite uninterested, said it would pass by where we were. This turned out to be untrue and I think he was in a way out to get me because he wanted to absolve himself of guilt for the bag. I aked a man waiting outside where we got dropped off and he told me to walk two blocks to get to the Nebaj buses, which was correct. In walking there I came across the women from the bus. They began hitting me. But, I am two feet taller than them and just walked away. I didn´t want a confrontation and just wanted to get out of Quiche.

The next ride, from Quiche to Sacalupas, was much less eventful. I spent most of the trip translating Spanish phrases into English for the guy sitting next to me, who was really interested in improving his English. My bag was strapped to the top of the van and caused no problems. We stopped to help two vans that had been in an accident; no one was hurt. I also learned a local legend about a spot where landslides had covered the road. Every day the debris on the road grows and the locals say that a dragon lives under that spot and pushes the ground up with his head.

The final leg, from Sacalupas to Nebaj, had no problems. Except that in the 15-passenger van there were 25 of us, including seven in the back seat, one of whom was me. One woman was particularly interested in me as an American and engaged me with questions that made me an American ambassador for the entire van. When she asked where I was from, the helper, wearing a T-shirt from the 2006 Delaware cheerleading coaches association (it is common for extra or used t-shirts to wind their way down here) said that he was from France and had just flown in from Paris that day. Everyone loved that.

I was so happy to get to Nebaj - after three hours.