I have something I’d like for future racers to know. Something I believe is pertinent information regarding chicken busses in Antigua Guatemala. PSA!!!!
I lived in a hostel just outside of Cuidad Veija, in a neighborhood called Villa de Santiago. Usually we could just tell our chicken bus drivers it was “cerca de la cemetario” (near the cemetery ) and they would know just where to drop us off. Do not be fooled by lack of chickens on the bus. The sneaky little devils ride on the top of the bus like the rebels they are. I had to take 4 chicken busses every day to get to and from ministry. It started at about 6:45 in the morning standing at the end of the street right by the highway trying to flag down a passing bus. Some days the first one we saw would stop. Other times a few would drive by completely full of people and we would still be waiting. One time, a bus saw us coming down the driveway, stopped, and reversed to pick us up, which was shocking because they are always going so fast. I guess since we are such a large group, the fare was incentive enough to reverse and load us in through the back door.
The back door of the chicken bus is another crazy part of our commute. There were many times where we either got on or off through the back door of the bus which in the States seems to be only for decoration. Here they use it and the ladders on the back to get even more people onto the bus. There was a day I was hanging out the door, clinging to the rails for dear life, praying I wouldn’t fall out. The fight or flight was triggered and I forced my way into the cab of the bus. I don’t think I can accurately describe the lack of space you feel on one of these bad boys. You know that illustration of a jar filled with rocks, but there is still room for sand, and then there is still room for water? That is essentially the chicken bus. When you think they couldn’t possibly get more people inside the bus, they squeeze ten more in. I don’t know what kind of sorcery they wield but its quite impressive. In a row that in the states would fit 4 people, Guatemala packs in at least 6. Meaning the only thing keeping the two in the center from falling to the ground is the fact that they are wedged in there so well. Once you have those guys pictured in your mind, then add a person or two standing in the spaces between knees and butts in the aisle and you have a semi accurate depiction of where I was at about seven a.m. every day. Nothing like being pressed up against 80 strangers first thing in the morning! We would ride that first bus into the terminal in Antigua.
Now something you should know is that Antigua only has cobblestone streets. That means if you happen to be in the back of the chicken bus you can catch some serious air on the potholes. I’m pretty sure one driver got one of the busses on two wheels at one point. You always knew when you were entering Antigua because you could feel the road change.
One of the most dangerous things that happened all month was the day one of my teammates found travel coffee cups in the pantry. We were all jealous of her genius. That is why when she offered me the last of her coffee. I gladly accepted; unbeknownst to me, we were just entering Antigua. So, there I am, in the back row of the chicken bus, holding a cup of hot coffee with two hands, bouncing around like a jackhammer because of the roads, yelling, “sabotage,” chugging the cup every time we come to a stop, and laughing hysterically with my teammates all the while. That’s why if I had any words for a future racer they would be don’t take coffee on the chicken bus into Antigua. Or do! It makes for a pretty good start to a morning, and a fun story for days to come.
