On On

We knew that the beginning of our trip would be a trial.  We flew out of Plattsburgh at 2:45 am and arrived in Ft. Lauderdale at 6 am.  We had a 4 hour layover in a crowded airport that had all of the charm of a NYS Thruway rest area in the 1970s.  There, we found a patch of dirty carpet and went to sleep, while Brooke stood sentry.  The flight to Guatemala City was another 2.5 hours, but we crossed two time zones, so we arrived at 11 am. 

On the second leg of our flight, we sat next to Del Griffith.  He was a bit drunk, but friendly.  His wife grew up in Guatemala, and she was a bit concerned with our plan to catch a taxi from the airport to the bus station.  They always hire a private tour company when in Guatemala.

Since our plan was well-researched and straying from it would be both a challenge and expensive, we decided to stick with it.  Right before customs, we were able to get some local cash at an ATM, and headed for the airport taxi stand.  It was very well organized to prevent fraud.  We pointed to the address of the bus company (por favor), paid exactly what I had seen as the rate on line ($10), hopped in a cab, and headed into the gut of Guatemala City.  When careening through a foreign city in a cab, where you don’t speak the language, you feel a certain uneasiness and hope that the world is generally a benevolent place.  My prayers to St. Christopher were answered, and we were dropped off in a sketchy part of town (which is most of it) in front of the bus station. 

Kathy Outside Bus Station, Guatemala City

“Santa Elena por favor?  Quatro persons.  Quantos?”  That’s about as good as my Spanish gets, but mixed with some finger pointing and a ridiculously large and subservient smile, it was enough.  Kathy took four years of high school Spanish, so thankfully, she was able to say, “My name is Kathy.  The horse is under the table.”

Here is where the plan unraveled.  The bus we planned to take left at 9 pm.  There was another bus that was leaving at 2 pm.  For many reasons, including the neighborhood, the 2 pm bus seemed like a no brainer.  We climbed aboard, and were on our way, pleased with the fact that we managed to get as far as we had.  A flaw in our improvisation soon occurred to us.  Instead of arriving in Santa Elena at 5 am and waiting for an 8 am shuttle to Tikal, we arrived at 1 am (bad traffic and slow going made the trip 11 hours long).  We didn’t know anything about where we would be dropped off, and it would be late.

We got off the bus at Santa Elena and were pounced on by cab drivers, but that was okay.  We asked him in our best, non-existent Spanish to take us to the closest town (Flores), and did he know of any hotels that would take us in at the late hour of 1:30 am?  He nodded in the affirmative and off we went.  After winding through narrow one-way streets for a while, he pulled over and started to knock on a door.  All the lights were out, and he was getting no answer.  We went to the next option.  A guy leaning out of his window in an alley wanted 580 Q (about $75).  Where a bed can be had for $8, this was certainly an attempt to take advantage of us.  Although it was 1:30, we said no thanks.  The third place was the charm.  Our driver woke up the proprietor, who found us a room for 250Q (about $35).  We had our place.  After shedding the proprietor, who after having been awoken, was now eager to chat, we crashed into our one star accommodation and slept soundly until 7:30 am.  For the record, lest you think I dropped the ball on my 22^nd wedding anniversary, the room had a balcony with a lovely view of the lake.

Burning our candle at both ends, we were on a shuttle to Tikal National Park by 8 am.  One hour later, we were at our hotel checking in and getting our first shower in two days.  Things are looking up!