Hooray - Independance Day in HueHue

Unfortunately leaving the cool mountain town of San Cristobal, but was very keen to make my way to my second country, Guatemala. You could get tour packages in SC that take you all the way across the border to Guatemala, but I decided to go my own way and save about 30 and get local busses.. There was quite a few bus options from SC down to the border town of Ciudad Cuauhtemoc - the hardest part was booking my ticket, as I had no idea how to pronounce the border town. Luckily I struck another comfy OCC bus for the short 2 hour trip to the border. The border crossing took a while, but was relatively easy. You check out of the Mexico immigration at Ciudad Cuauhtemoc (inappropriately named, not a city, just a little border town), then caught a taxi 3km over to the Guat town of La Mesilla – a dusty little border town with a few stalls, and LOTS of people making their way with goods in and out of Mexico. As soon as I crossed the border there was a noticeable difference in the culture, and wealth of the country.

I then experienced my first (but not last) Guatemala “chicken bus” ride to Huehuetenango (way-way). These busses are old 1040’s style ex-US school busses, with stickers plastered all over the bus and on the windows, and seats made for midgets. If you’re like 6’3” like me, then expect to spend the majority of the journey with your knees around your ears. But it’s all good fun, and makes you feel like you’re really doing some proper traveling. As you get on the bus, the attendant rips your pack off your back and hurls it on top of the bus – and that’s the last you see of it until you get off. These guys do an amazing job of knowing who belongs to what bags. Not once did I have anything stolen or have any issues with my bags on these busses (although I did run into some travelers along the way who had had some bad experiences – I must have been lucky.)

Wasn’t entirely sure where to get off, and whether we had got to Way-way or not, as it wasn’t the end of the line for this bus. But the driver did point to me to get off, so I took his word and jumped off – my pack very quickly hitting the dust behind me. Luckily, for once, I wasn’t carrying any fine-china in my pack. 15^th September is independence day in Guat (I didn’t realize this until I got there) but the Guatemalan’s like a party, and they tend to celebrate all week. There were blue and white flags up everywhere, and everyone seemed in a party mood. If it wasn’t for this, I probably wouldn’t have liked Way-Way, and would recommend fellow travelers leave it off their itinerary, despite the fact that the LP guide talks it up. It’s a dusty little un-charming town, with little to do for most of the year. Luckily it was independence day when I was there & the streets were blocked off and there was a massive party in the town square, with bands, parades, street stalls, and lost of school kids performing and singing. It was great fun. I stayed at the Hotel Mary, which was a bit gloomy, but OK for $10 – but I think I was the only guest. After I’d had a shower, I realised that there was a brick sized hole in the wall, right in line with ya pink bits. I looked through the hole and realized it went straight through to the main street’s footpath where anyone could see in….. I’m sure anyone looking in would have got quite an eyeful!

The next morning I decided to ignore LP’s advice to eat in the downstairs café at the gloomy Hotel Mary and instead tried out the excellent Mi Tierra Café where I got a fantastic hot breakfast, amazing coffee in a great little restaurant. Definitely recommend that one. Caught a $2 taxi ride back to the bus station in one of the oldest most decrepit taxis I have ever seen in my life. I seriously didn’t think it would go anywhere. But the driver, who was about 90, was one of the friendliest guys I’d come across – even though he spoke no English, he tried to teach me a few things about the town and he was quite taken aback when I said I was from Australia, . I felt embarrassed that my Spanish wasn’t good enough to converse with him more.

I must have just missed the bus I wanted, so my new best friend, the taxi driver, sped after it in his rusty little Datsun, and waved it down on the way out of town. So, I embarked on my next chicken bus ride to the highly recommended (by LP) Quetzaltenango (for some reason shortened to Xela). This bus was slightly more spacious (I only had to have my knees up to my chest this time) and a bit less packed. By this trip, I worked out to always sit at the back, because for some reason the locals always like to sit up the front, and would rather pack out the front (I’m talking like four to a seat) even when there’s spare space up the back. I learnt this after sitting up the front on my first trip, and was quite surprised when a big old local lady in full traditional gear, no teeth, grotty hair and skin, but a great smile, got on the bus and plonked herself onto my lap, even when the back half of the bus was empty. You live and learn.

The scenery on the way to Xela was truly breathtaking. I wish I got some better photo’s but they all turned out blurry due to the bumpy ride. Again there was some confusion as to where to get off – I tried asking, but my Spanish wasn’t good enough to understand the answers I was given. Everyone seemed to get off at a big roundabout outside the city, so I just did the same. From the roundabout, got a taxi into town, turned out to be only 2 minutes away, and I could have easily walked if I’d known where I was. The first two hostels listed in the LP had either closed down or moved. So ended up staying at the basic, but VERY cheap San Diego Hostel ($3 per night off-season including breakfast). Because of Independence day, Xela had basically shut up shop for the week. And when I say everything was closed, I mean everything. There were a few food stalls on the square, but all of the bars, restaurants, shops, supermarkets, internet places, café’s etc – were closed. The only thing that was open was McDonalds, which was PACKED, and I refused to eat there anyway. The town itself was had some nice architecture, but generally I thought this place was overrated. Went back to the hostel and met some cool Israelli guys (the first of many in Central America, some cool, some not so cool). By 7 pm apparently the bars had re-opened, and ended up going out for a few drinks with them. Not sure what it was called, but in one of the bars off of the small laneway near the town square. Next day I would make my way, with a sore head, on to Panajachel.