Leaving the Airport in the Back of Truck

I made it safely into Guatemala City and I

slept most of both of the plane rides. From Oklahoma City to Atlanta I

lucked out and scored a seat to myself. From Atlanta to Guatemala City

I sat next to a girl reading “Sacred Marriage” and she seemed too

focused on whatever missionary work she was about to be doing to speak

to a Jesus-looking hippy. The airport was smaller than the Will Rogers in OKC and tiny in comparison to even one terminal at O’Hare in Chicago or Logan in Boston. Once

through customs I picked up my backpack. Of course, the ATM in the

airport gave me ridiculously large bills, which a street vendor didn’t

seem too happy to change for me, seeing that I only bought a bottle of

water and a bag of chips. The directions were simple in the

Lonely Planet. Walk up some steps outside of the arrivals terminal,

turn right, walk a hundred yards, and end up at a city bus stop. But I

didn’t see any steps so I asked a family I heard speaking a a

combination of Spanish and English where the bus station heading into

the city was.

“You can jump in the back of the truck and I’ll take you to the stop.”

“Sounds good.”

So my introduction to Guatemala came in the back of late 80’s rundown

black Toyota truck, which was nice. The family dropped me off at the

wrong bus stop though, which I figured out when the bus I needed turned

left, careened by, and dropped a cloud of black smoke just before

picking me up. ( Advice to those going through the airport: The street that runs along airport row, where taxi's and other cars pick up passengers, continues once the airport ends. Walk along this street until there is an intersection. The intersection only allows you to keep walking straight or to turn left. Turn left, which is just across the street from the zoo, and walk until you reach a bus stop overhang. From here you can get downtown, just keep your eyes peeled.) I

followed the bus along a dusty street with an intermittent sidewalk

next to the Aurora zoo until I reached another bus stop and waited for

another red 83 bus. The ride was cheap… very cheap, something

like a quarter for a half hour ride. And the bus looked and felt

something like a run-down school bus with worse seats and a crazier

driver. After a few blocks someone left their plastic seat and I was

able to sit down. It felt eerily similar to the ride I took from the

airport in Athens to the city center just over two years ago. I

only had minimal directions to get me into the city center and to the

Transportes Galgos bus station, yet it only took asking the woman

sitting next to me on the bus and an older gentlemen with dark skin and

rotting teeth on the street to figure it out. A bus to Xela

left only fifteen minutes before I got there, so I bought a ticket for

the 5:00PM bus, walked around, and am now sitting in a fifteen computer

internet café above a grocery store in zona uno, Guatemala City.