6am pick-up for our long road to Flores, Guatemala. Under the darkened blue sky, waiting for the sun to show itself from behind the jungle, the sleepy town starts its wake too. The young receptionist is there again lying on the couch across the desk. He wakes to take our keys and smiles his calm smile, "hasta luego".
The ticketing system for cheap border-crossing-transportation is the same here as that of SE Asia; the destination and paid amount handwritten on a 5x8 inch paper receipt, with the company letterhead and serial number in print.
A large white van takes us to the border of Mexico-Guatemala, where awaits a huge river about 100 meters wide. We stroll across the river on a lanky motored boat that carries about a dozen people.
A small, rusty bus takes us for an hour or so through thin and bumpy roads as we pass by local villages comprised of wooden huts with thatched roofing.
Then we're transferred onto another white van that takes us to the immigrations office and beyond, to our destination Flores. A 9.5-hour ordeal on 1 receipt using 4 vehicles, for the flat rate of $30 per person. We show the receipt at every transferring of vehicles, but there's no showing of ID's. I don't know how they do it exactly, but all the parties involved must get paid somehow...I want to know so badly how the communication/transactions take place (some of it is international!).
30 minutes prior to our long-awaited arrival to Flores, a short man in his mid thirties gets picked up off the street and hops on our van with just a small backpack. He perches himself right behind the passenger side, faces us and asks us all "duu youuu a-speeeek ingliiish?" We all nod and he goes about carefully explaining the details of Flores and how to get to its main attraction, Tikal. Although his English is quite annoying, overly enunciating all his "rrrrrr"s, it's really helpful information to a foreigner. He ends his long and thoughtful monologue, we're pleased with the info, and then his real job starts.
"Who has their hotel booked? Anyone need an ATM? Who needs a ticket for a bus to Tikal? Where are you planning to go next?"
Makes sense, he's from a travel agency. Smart way to rake in the customers during slow season.
Not only is he smart, he is aggressive. As the bus makes a stop at the ATM, he comes around to all of us asking about our plans. It's our turn now, and without agreement he starts writing out receipts for our bus to Tikal the next day. We keep looking back at our travel books asking him questions, trying to avoid decision-making until we actually get to Flores, but no use. In no time, we find in our hands: bus tickets to Tikal, a 2-night stay at a hotel, and bus tickets to our next city. As I finished counting the leftover money, he was already taking more away from the next set of stupid tourists. I felt like we were bulldozed over by a man who knew from the start, that we would fall victim to his years of experience dealing with many types of tourists.
With that said, Flores is one of those places that people dream about. Surrounded by fresh water, it's buildings are all set in colorful pastel, roads made of cobblestone, there's a hill in the center that houses the central park and cathedral, wooden docks with small boats all around, the water warm enough to casually dive in (day and night), lakeside restaurants and bars galore. All within a small island that can be walked full-circle in 15 minutes. My honeymoon is pretty much set :)
I just need to find a wife.
At night there are high school teens and couples hanging out on the docks, spending a lazy and dreamy time looking out towards the lake and the starlit sky. I wondered for the first time how life would have been being brought up in such a romantic place. Would I have traded my teenage years in California for all this? Sports? Taiko? Proms? Friends? Girls?
If I were to be able to give an answer, it'd only be because I had already experienced being a teen. I decided to keep building upon my imagination.
Sadly, I lose my sturdy Leatherman flashlight that I received as a birthday present from my Dad close to 7 years ago. I walk around he whole island looking for it with my flashlight App but alas, it is gone...sorry Dad, and thank you for the 7 years, Flashlight.
i love those kinds of border crossings! i had similar multi-transport ones in the past, going from cambodia to thailand, from laos to vietnam, and from vietnam to cambodia. share taxi, bus, boat, tuk tuk, songthaew, foot, etc.
ReplyDeleteWhen we hit the dusty, bumpy roads of Guatemala, Dad and I looked at each other and just smiles.
Delete"yeah, this is how border crossing should be,"
is what we said to each other through our eyes.
I like them too!
...most of the times.