Chicken buses and a faraway town

(photos by Eddie Thornton)



After yesterday’s Pastores visit, I think I was excited to be on the road again. That’s the only way I can explain what happened today.

Eddie, Alicia and I had been talking about going to Chichicastenango for a visit on market day. Supposedly it was the best market around, with anything you wanted and lots of beautiful stalls. Since the big market days were on Thursdays and Sundays, we decided to use one of our weekends. We went today.

Alicia had a big test on Monday, so she decided not to come. It was probably a smart move since our morning trip, what I thought would just be a 9 - 2 jaunt, turned out to last all day. E and I met up around 8:30 and found a chicken bus to Chimaltenango. I wasn’t entirely sure why were going to Chimal since we really wanted to go to Chichi, but that’s where all the bus drivers directed us. Neither of us had a map, and neither had looked at a map to see where Chichi was. When we got on the first bus and forked over 10Q I knew we were in for a long ride because normally a bus ride around Antigua is 2.50. I asked the money guy how long to Chichi and he sort of laughed. “Well, Chimal is only 15 minutes, but Chichi is around 2 hours.” E laughed and I said that maybe we should have brought our verbs to study.

A note on traveling by chicken bus: Two things you need. First, a good travel companion. Second, a willingness (and desire) to take things as they come. The second is all in your head, and I have plenty of it. And I lucked out on the first. Eddie is a new friend and one never knows how these things can go, but he never once complained about the buses, or the day’s adventures. Probably I complained more. Thanks E! for putting up with me.



After Chimal, we caught a second bus to Chichi, again however, this one wasn’t headed directly there, but was “on the way.” The second bus was a super long time, and extremely crowded. Since I was last on, I had a nice comfy seat on the last two inches of a bus seat with two other people. My seat mate was very sleepy and kept nodding off, but once we started hitting some rough patches he woke up. We took the road up towards Xela and the lake, and following the storm damage, I was happy to see how it was fairly clear in some places. Granted, much of the former two lane highway was down to a single lane and it was definitely harrowing at times, with our bus hurtling down the highway, playing chicken with the large trucks coming the other way. But the drivers seemed to know what they were doing, since every time they passed one another with two inches to spare, there was a friendly honk. I thought the money guy on this bus would have a hard time collecting, since all the seats and the aisle were jammed with people, but he surprised me. When it came time to get the money from us back seat folks, the guy opened the front door, climbed up on the roof, tramped over the top and came in the back door. Ingenious!

The second bus finally stopped at some exchange station, and we were shuffled off. It was around 1pm and I was getting sort of exhausted. E and I stood in the middle of the road for a minute, not really doing anything. “So, are we just standing here hoping someone will care for us?” His question seemed to spark some action, since two men came over and asked where we were headed. We said “Chichi” and they said ok and left. E and I again just stood in the road. I thought about wandering over to a chicken place to use the toilet, but right then a bus pulled up and we were yelled at to run. I hopped up on the back end of this bus and found a seat. I don’t remember this ride so much, but I think it was full as well.

We started going up and up and up, mountains and trees and lots of curves. The signs on the road said “danger, curves” but I don’t think anyone really paid attention. These buses have serious horse power and can take these hills at 80 mph. About 30 minutes into this ride, I thought, Lord help me if we do any more of these curves I’m gonna hurl. Thankfully we stopped and everyone started getting off. I looked around and nothing looked very promising for a large market area, so I asked the guy I had been sitting with, “where are we?” It sounded like he said Chichi, but in a weird way. I asked him again, and this time I could make it out. “Quiché.” I looked stunned and E goes, “wait, where’s Chichi?” The man laughed and said, “we passed it!”

So, we got off the bus in a different city than originally planned, but since we were there, decided to wander around. First thing necessary was some food. I hadn’t had breakfast, and was halfway starving, halfway nauseous. The best thing for that? Pollo Campero. E convinced me to split a Super whatever with him, so we ended up with 6 pieces of chicken, 3 things of fries and a liter of Pepsi. I drank the Pepsi. Those who know me know what a feat that was.

While we were eating, I looked out the window as this little old man wandered up with a smile and a bag of wares. I was munching on a chicken when he reached into his bag and pulled out a crudely whittled cow head, about the size of an open hand. I smiled and shook my head and continued to eat. A second later, he reached into his bag again and pulled out another whittled thing, this time a bull head, about the same size. It was a little ridiculous, a strange thing to peddle, and I laughed and again shook my head. The old man laughed too and went into his bag a third time. This time, I was waiting for the cow, and out it came, only about half the size. It was too funny. I started cracking up at the tiny cow head held up by the old man, as if the first one wasn’t to my taste because of its size. He started laughing too, and reached into his bag a fourth time. Again a little whittled cow, this one had horns, about as big as a lipstick!

I never bought one. Eddie gave the old man our liter of Pepsi, and I never saw him again. I sort of wish I’d gotten one of the little cows.

After lunch we wandered back up to the market. Eddie got his new boots shined by one of the shoeshiners. He looked for the littlest one to give his business too, but either the child was shy or didn’t know how to shine shoes yet, and he was muscled aside by one of the bigger ones. He shined those boots well, but he *really* did not want his photo taken. I tried to assure him that I was only taking photos of the boots, but he didn’t believe me. That’s ok; I wouldn’t believe me either.



The market in Quiché was your standard market. Spices and fruit and weird shiny blouses and linens and old toys and chicken parts. We went up and down a few times looking for exciting things, but decided to leave after passing the same furniture stand 3 times. When we walked up the main drag and passed the chalk, E remarked that we were on the right path. However, we passed the giant cow liver shortly after, and I couldn’t remember if the chalk had come before or after the liver. It didn’t matter too much anyway, since our exit did not really coincide with a direction. We merely wanted to find a truck to take us back to Chichi. Eventually we found a small mini bus parked in front of a tienda. I jumped aboard and E offered water in a bottle or water in a bag. I took the bottle, was called a snob, and we were on our way.

A few minutes into the lovely drive we paused to take on another passenger. This guy was sort of strange looking and possibly very drunk. He tapped Eddie on the shoulder and we turned around. Thinking he was asking where we were from, we both answered. But he didn’t seem to understand and so we quit. A second later, he tapped my shoulder, and we turned around again. This time however, all he did was make a praying motion and lift up his hands. I couldn’t understand was he was getting at, and turned around. The tapping and turning continued for a few minutes, and I couldn’t tell if he also wanted to touch my hair, but at some point the other passengers and the driver noticed. The money boy came back and told the guy to quit it, and he did for a few minutes but started tapping and touching again. I think everyone else in the mini was more concerned than E or I, and suddenly the bus stopped and they asked the man to exit the vehicle. Eddie told me later he was worried they would beat the guy up, but all they did was hand him back his money and leave him on the side of the road, on the side of a mountain.

About 4pm we finally made it to Chichicastenango and their famous market. We went straight to the center and walked towards the church. We went inside and the whole place was covered in soot. How many hundreds of years of incense and candles had darkened the walls and the paintings and gold leaf. There was a little old woman swinging the incense canister (and yes, it was a canister. Probably an old holder of peaches) and keeping an eye on things. There was a prayer going on in front, perhaps a priest or someone with a microphone, kneeling in front of a Mary statue. I wandered back out of the church, not too interested in the hybridization of indigenous cultural worship with colonial Spanish architecture and leftover religiosity. :)

Once back out of the church, I looked over the market and told E that he better get ready, I was gonna do some purchasing. We were here darnit and a three hour bus ride should count for something. I’m not a very good haggler though, and I consider it an equal success if I can get something for half the price that it’s originally offered. I figure that it’s probably 3 times as high initially, and perhaps even 4 times for obvious Americans. Either way, I bought a little elephant, a weird looking “old woman” figure that is hideous and one sided and slightly creepy, and for some reason I love. I got a pretty little jade necklace, telling the woman I’d give her 50Q, knowing full well I only had a 100 in my pocket and there was no way she was going to break it. E had supplemented my pocket change this whole time without doing any marketing, but standing there on the sidewalk made him a target, and he ended up buying some bookmarks from a couple of little girls while I was getting my necklace. After whirlwind market buying, we decided to investigate the cemetery.



Eddie tried to take a picture of some cows grazing near the graves but the cow holder wanted 25Q! Outrageous. The tombs were painted bright shades of primary and secondary colors, the kind of paint that comes directly out of the leftover paint bin. Lots of greens and yellows and reds and quite a few pinks. And I wasn’t sure what the mourners were doing, but there were a lot of smoking ash piles with hundreds of flies buzzing around. We passed a few men drinking and talking and standing over a pyre of smoking purple incense. The whole place was beautiful and hideous, full of strange smelling smoke and poorly tended tombs and thousands of dying flowers and piles of trash.



Another three hours and another three buses, we arrived back in beautiful little Antigua. I called up Alicia who still hadn’t eaten dinner, bless her, and we all met up at Sabor on 5th, an expensive wine and Italian place near the Arch. I know that people who come to Guatemala often comment on the inauthenticity of Antigua, how it’s merely a place for tourists and wealthy travelers who like to enjoy a bit of culture with their poverty, but I’ll echo a sentiment that my friend made on this. He said, true, it’s rather quaint and overdone, in a colonial sort of way, but it’s also beautiful, and I like to be around beauty.

This evening I found myself on six different buses and a mini, in two different towns, among poor people and poorer people and a few (2) gringos. It was lovely to be able to cap off the day with a veggie lasagna and a glass of malbec. If that makes me a snob, then so be it. But I already know I am one, since in that Chimal tienda I opted to take the bottle of water over the bag.