Simply put, on our way to the local bus stop, we were tricked into paying a taxi driver in the early early morning. I try my hardest, speed up my thinking to avoid all negative outcomes, rightfully accuse the driver of his lies, but end up paying him after his persistent sob-story. He smiles hugely and vigorously shakes both our hands as he leaves.
He had won.
Here starts the long journey to the border and beyond, to Copan Ruins. The locals' bus makes frequent stops to load/unload people and baggage; vendors come in to sell food and drinks; salesmen make speeches to advertise beauty products, magazines, and lollipops (lollipops need a speech?); it gets windy; it rains and droplets fall through the wide open emergency-door on the roof; it's quite entertaining.
But even with all the "entertainment," somehow I hit the blues. The beautiful scenery and Guatemalans hard at work don't serve as inspiration to pick me up.
"I want to go home."
Something changes though once we transfer onto a microbus at Chiquimula, to make the last stretch to the border. The air cools, the greens are calming, and the mountains grand and peaceful. My heart relaxes, I can feel energy flowing through my body, and I realize that I have a smile on my face. 9 hours in the dark. I come back to remind myself why I'm doing this, and start making further plans for the future.
Throughout the microbus ride, a lady in her later 30's, keeps on blurting out words of advice. "pay now," "no, not here," "show your ticket to him," "almost there," "get off here." So subtle, her kindness. And although I don't consider her attractive really, she is beautiful. I thank her as we get off and she shyly responds, "de nada."
Concerned still about our rate of spending, we eat on the streets in Copan. Chuleta - huge slice of grilled pork cuz Dad is craving meat. $3.25 for a dinner plate of that with an additional bbq'd beef on a stick.
One beer, a few pages in my book, and I knock out.
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