Here We Go...
Greetings and hello from Guatemala City, Guatemala. Touched town amid partly cloudy skies into the new terminal, which is currently undergoing construcion. The whole place is blank, as all of the shops, information desks, and necessities regularly found in the airport have been completely removed, and replaced with small tables.
Walking out of the exit, I strolled past a large group of religious folk from the US on a church mission. Taxi drivers and shuttle bus operators waved signs in my face, peddling rides to Antigua and Lake Atitlan. Pricing in Guatemala is intresting, as the cost of most things is cut down by a factor of five or seven, but the rides into the city by taxi were still expensive by local standards. Catching a shuttle into the downtown section of Guatemala would have cost around $10, but I opted to walk around the neighborhoods surrounding the airport until I found a local bus. After finally working up the nerve to ask the woman next to me on the bus stop bench the price of the ticket, I was astonished to find it a reasonable 15 cents.
The bus ride was an adventure in itself. Horns blaring, these red busses pasted with silhouettes of Jesus, Che, and other recognizable figues roar through the streets. At the entrance of the bus stands a man who works as a sort of conductor, jumping into the street to load passengers into the seats before the bus even has a chance to come to a complete stop.
I had picked the bus, #83, on the fact that many people got on that bus at the stop, so it must have been going somewhere interesting. The streets in the city are aranged into a grid pattern, much like NY, with avenues (avendidas) and streets (calles) running perpendictular, and numbered in ascending order. The problem arrived with the complete lack of street signs. Occasionally the buildings on either side of the street will feature a plack denoting the street name, but it´s simply that - a steet name. Instead of finding Calle 16, I get Calle de los Purgatores. A little frustrating, but also gave me a good chance to wander around the city.
I found my lodging of choice, Hotel Fenix, a little near the downtown city center in Zona 1. My Spanish is slowly returning, so I was able to tell the man at the desk that I wanted a room for a night. The cost was 60 Quetzals, or about $8 for a large room with two beds (singles weren´t availavle). After unpacking a bit, I wandered out for a bite to eat.
Chain restaurants, and the ever present Burger King and McDonalds permeate the city, but I wasn´t about to let my first meal be that disappointing. After unsuccessfully attempting to find any restuarant mentioned in the guide book, I threw caution to the wind and took Darien´s advice to find a street vendor. One mother/daughter duo was cooking up a storm with a tray full of tacos. Perhaps I picked too well, as it took about 25 minutes until the line died down enough to grab two tacos with salsa, $1.25 each. Delicious.
Walking back to the hotel, I met Michelle and Nina, two traveling English speakers living in Mexico, in the lobby. Michelle´s grand daughter, who was probably 7 or 8, was also traveling along with the duo. Nina used to work for a travel company in NYC, so she knew all the best places to travel in Guatemala, Honduras, and the surrounding areas. The little girl had been promised a visit the McDonald´s placeplace for being nice on the ascent up a volcano the day before, so I joined trio for la patatas and el big mac.
After the meal we all shared some ice ceam from a local vendor, as I picked their brain for the next exciting travel destination. Back at the hotel I settled into a comfortable chair for a little reading, but was immediately interrupted by an older man from Mississippi who owns a farm in Belize. From his semi articulate stories, I ascerned that this 70 year old has probably slept with half the girls in Guatemala. As I tried to be polite, two Australian men who had been sitting in the lounge took the opportunity to escape upstairs. Despite the graphic tales, I received some good advice for places to travel by boat in the northeast on the return trip from Honduras.
For now, it is off to Chichicastenango to try and meet Kyle and his crew.
Word of the day: por fava, a shortened and more colloquial version of por favor.
Walking out of the exit, I strolled past a large group of religious folk from the US on a church mission. Taxi drivers and shuttle bus operators waved signs in my face, peddling rides to Antigua and Lake Atitlan. Pricing in Guatemala is intresting, as the cost of most things is cut down by a factor of five or seven, but the rides into the city by taxi were still expensive by local standards. Catching a shuttle into the downtown section of Guatemala would have cost around $10, but I opted to walk around the neighborhoods surrounding the airport until I found a local bus. After finally working up the nerve to ask the woman next to me on the bus stop bench the price of the ticket, I was astonished to find it a reasonable 15 cents.
The bus ride was an adventure in itself. Horns blaring, these red busses pasted with silhouettes of Jesus, Che, and other recognizable figues roar through the streets. At the entrance of the bus stands a man who works as a sort of conductor, jumping into the street to load passengers into the seats before the bus even has a chance to come to a complete stop.
I had picked the bus, #83, on the fact that many people got on that bus at the stop, so it must have been going somewhere interesting. The streets in the city are aranged into a grid pattern, much like NY, with avenues (avendidas) and streets (calles) running perpendictular, and numbered in ascending order. The problem arrived with the complete lack of street signs. Occasionally the buildings on either side of the street will feature a plack denoting the street name, but it´s simply that - a steet name. Instead of finding Calle 16, I get Calle de los Purgatores. A little frustrating, but also gave me a good chance to wander around the city.
I found my lodging of choice, Hotel Fenix, a little near the downtown city center in Zona 1. My Spanish is slowly returning, so I was able to tell the man at the desk that I wanted a room for a night. The cost was 60 Quetzals, or about $8 for a large room with two beds (singles weren´t availavle). After unpacking a bit, I wandered out for a bite to eat.
Chain restaurants, and the ever present Burger King and McDonalds permeate the city, but I wasn´t about to let my first meal be that disappointing. After unsuccessfully attempting to find any restuarant mentioned in the guide book, I threw caution to the wind and took Darien´s advice to find a street vendor. One mother/daughter duo was cooking up a storm with a tray full of tacos. Perhaps I picked too well, as it took about 25 minutes until the line died down enough to grab two tacos with salsa, $1.25 each. Delicious.
Walking back to the hotel, I met Michelle and Nina, two traveling English speakers living in Mexico, in the lobby. Michelle´s grand daughter, who was probably 7 or 8, was also traveling along with the duo. Nina used to work for a travel company in NYC, so she knew all the best places to travel in Guatemala, Honduras, and the surrounding areas. The little girl had been promised a visit the McDonald´s placeplace for being nice on the ascent up a volcano the day before, so I joined trio for la patatas and el big mac.
After the meal we all shared some ice ceam from a local vendor, as I picked their brain for the next exciting travel destination. Back at the hotel I settled into a comfortable chair for a little reading, but was immediately interrupted by an older man from Mississippi who owns a farm in Belize. From his semi articulate stories, I ascerned that this 70 year old has probably slept with half the girls in Guatemala. As I tried to be polite, two Australian men who had been sitting in the lounge took the opportunity to escape upstairs. Despite the graphic tales, I received some good advice for places to travel by boat in the northeast on the return trip from Honduras.
For now, it is off to Chichicastenango to try and meet Kyle and his crew.
Word of the day: por fava, a shortened and more colloquial version of por favor.
posted by Benjamin at
12:24 PM
1 Comments:
We think you were robbed on the tacos!
Love,
Mom
By
Katharine, at 3:06 PM
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