Hot springs from heaven, chicken buses from hell

After two laborious weeks of Spanish language instruction and forgetting more verbs than we learned we bid farewell to our Guatemalan host family and headed for the hills. We left their drafty but very loving home promising that when we someday return to Xela we´ll pay them a visit. Their hospitality over the fourteen days we lived with them was extraodinary doing everything they could to make us feel welcomed and amply stuffed with liquified beans and white bread, a staple of just about every meal served. To add to fond memories we shared during our short time on Diagonal Eleven in Xela their blue Chow Chow let us pet him on our final day, something the friendly but so skittish animal wouldn´t allow the entire time we were there.



From Xela a short bus ride on one of Guatmela´s ten-thousand Chicken Buses brought us to the ramshackle pueblo of Zunil nestled under the shadow of the Volcano we had climbed the previous weekend. From Zunil a three dollar truck ride is purchased from the waiting cadre of Toyota´s on the side of the road. Preferring the fresh air of the bed, we proceeded nine kilometers up a twisting mountain road with the driver operating at excessively high speeds for the hairpin turns. The views from the back of the truck were absolutely stunning. The clouds, the first we´d seen in the previous three weeks, were shrouding far hills as the valley floor disappeared. Every spare hectare of land was cultivated with cabbage and radishes and numerous other vegetables, tended by indigenous farmers.

Our destination was better than expected. Fuentes Georginas is a natural hot spring nestled in a steep valley high up in the clouds. Frequented by touristas and locals alike, some with visible ailments like broken bones and multiple sclerosis, the mineral pools are known for their curative qualities. The largest and hottest pool was almost unbearable at first but after slow submersion, poco a poco style, all our cold nights in Xela disappeared. Not a bad way to spend El Dia del Cariño.


The following day we descended in the back of yet another yota whose crazy driver was bent on meeting every oncoming pickup loaded with indigenous families at breakneck speeds. We requested that he drop us off in the vicinity of the revered San Simon. People kept pointing us down narrow paths festooned with spent confetti and tamali corn husks where we found the residence of Zunil´s own deity, who moves from house to house each year. The god of San Simon was represented by a mannequin dressed in a running blazer, white cowboy boots, a backwards (Purely symbolic) yellow cowboy hat with the initials SF on it and aviators glasses. Lit candles flickered at his feet and wreaths of flowers and other ornaments were drapped over his throne. A priest was busily chanting some incantation as he used the gods own gloved hands to bless the worshiper knealed before him. A bottle of Venado, the local hootch, was then ceremonioulsy poured into his open mouth from a silver chalice as he was tilted back by one of the young attendants, the same who took our 5 Quetzale admission fee. This whole experience was brief but poingnant. It was amazing to see how unique, reverent and strange religion can be anywhere in the world.

Thanks to a speedy shuttle service we arrived at our next stop, Chichicastenago, in time to see the hustle and bustle of one of Guatemala´s reknowned weekly markets. Attended by tourists and locals alike all manner of fruits, meats, grains, t-shirts, carvings and weavings were available for a haggled price. The abundance of craftwork all made by hand in Guatemala was amazing. It was even more enjoyable to see a religious procession that culminated in a frenzied fire works show which included setting off mortars and home made bottle rockets from the church steps amidst crowds of people. Included in the procession was a marimba band and three men wearing animal frames covered in baloons and more homemade fire works the size of beer cans which would be lit off while they were still dancing around in the contraptions.

The following day, after outsmarting a con shuttle service with the help of the alert and honest hotel keeper, we were headed south onboard the always hazardous Guatemalan public transportation. We enjoyed the heartpounding experience of a van packed with more Guatemaltecos than one ever imagined possible, a second class bus careening around curves and passing dump trucks in the fog on Guate´s only highway, if you could call it that, and a bona fide chicken bus doing fifty miles an hour through narrow residential streets to only slam on the brakes moments before pesky speed bumps.

The Chicken buses are by far the most thrilling diversion in Guatemala. Absolutely crammed with riders the buses are everywhere which means you never have to wait long for one. They are all converted school buses from the U.S. that have been painted and blinged out with horns and lights and other glamorous decoration. They comprise the bulk of Guatemala´s public transportation and often end up in the accident section of the news paper but unless you´re willing to shell out the dough for private transportation at every turn they really are a conveient and fun way to see the countryside from the local point of view.

Thankfully we arrived safe and sound in our final and first stop, Antigua. After three weeks it´s comforting to be somewhere a little touristy to catch up on our souvenir shopping and to have something besides liquified beans for dinner. Tonight we´ll watch the sun set behind a Volcano one last time and pack our bags for the coasts of Costa Rica.