Chicken bus

"Blue bird, blue bird , painted so fine, Guatemalans re design"

Photograph by Crystal Masters

We are accompanied by our Guatemala family, down the streets of San Marcos, to the dock for departure on the 9am boat that leaves at 9:22 or so. I walk with my hands, shoulders and back free of any bags at all! They are all being carried by Pedro, his son Milton, and the brother Augustine. Even my leather shoulder bag is carried by 6 year old Williston. We walk through town saying our goodbyes to the merchants who have been supplying us with fruits, veggies and goodies over the past 3 months. We are hugged, wished safe travel and promised loyally that they will wait for us to return in November. 

Photograph by Enrique Orozco - Our Guatemalan Family

The ride over on our boat is filled with indigenous and expats alike, the lake flat calm, the sun shining.

In 30 minutes or more.... we arrive in Panajachel to disembark and roll along with our troop of 5 for a few blocks looking for the Chicken bus to Antigua where we will stay for the night. We will fly out of Guatemala city for Mexico city the next afternoon.

Photography by Crystal Masters - Lake Atitlan 

Chicken buses have a style all of their own. They are often yellow Blue Bird buses that most of us as North Americans rode in as kids going off to school. They are painted lavishly with folklore, stories and graffiti done incredibly well and each has been given a name that is painted on the bus...ours is Bebule. The luggage is passed up top the blue bird and we circle town a few times over the next 40 minutes picking up cargo, tying it atop our chariot and eventually departing Panajachel on the 11am bus that leaves at11:40 more or less!

Photograph by Dawna Masters - Chicken bus

The journey is colorful as we collect passengers along the way mostly in random spots along the roadside, adding more cargo. A wooden table, textile bundles, some 2x4's, sacks of textiles. Where there are towns we stop in, vendors come aboard calling out their specialties," papas con chile, chocobananos, tamales, tres por cada uno, mango con limon." Then they are off the bus, and we roll on, with the bus tooting and honking it's own language code that I am not privy to.

Any and all delays are made up for as the driver expertly maneuvers the bus at top speed, running through the gears smoothly up ad down the hills and double clutching into the corners weaving from the inside to the outside lanes like Mario Andretti would have in a race. The views are enriched with farm plots, various stages of house construction, families watching, sitting, walking, street dogs in search of food, the odd horse packing fire wood, or even women with bundles of wood on their heads.

Comedors (roadside restaurants), ready for lunch with their steaming pots of beans, tamales, tortillas, meats and chicken dishes facing the passing public along the road. Each village has their clothing colors represented by weaving fine wool or cotton into colorful patterns, their hand work proudly embroidered into designs. Young mothers have babies tucked into large pieces of fabrics tied to their bodies while others balance large baskets atop their heads.

My daughter is either laughing or smiling, expressing! " this is so amusing and fun!" For 36 Quetzals, (4.80 each), I couldn't think of better value or be more entertained. I love to see Crystal's joy.

The assistant to the driver is possibly the most versatile participant. He hops on and off the bus at every stop, running back to get packets passed up to the roof, helping passengers get on board quickly as the bus never really fully stops and waits for no one. The accompanero runs to the door to reboard and join the ride. With each new group of passengers he then takes charge of collecting the fee to ride. We travel with the door open most of the time, while he looks out for random roadside passengers for pick up, dials the cell phone for the driver, passes packages to waiting store owners all while we are rolling by.

Photographs by Dawna Masters - Aboard The Chicken Bus

He pulls the line to honk a warning sound as we round corners at top speed drifting to the outside lane that slides us across our seat, fist one way, then the other. We are hanging on so as not to fall into the aisle. The drivers grey ing hair makes me feel safer as I trust the years of experience he must have. Even though I am not religious the sign reading, " dios nos acompane", ( god accompanies us) doesn't hurt either!

If you don't think passing up hill in a corner with an approaching bus showing up in the oncoming lane is your cup of tea, you can always get a shuttle for triple the price and 1/10 the exhilaration.

Photographs by Dawna Masters - Extra Life

We arrive in about 3 hours, collect our 4 suitcases from the roof and load them onto a man drawn cart who for 20Q (2.70), takes us to the Hacienda that was recommended to us as a great place to stay for the night.

Photograph by Dawna Masters - Man wheeling our bags to our Hacienda in Antigua