On The Move

Is what I've been for the better part of the past three days now, having left the bustling tourist hub of Panajachel, on lovely Lake Atitlan, in Southwestern Guatemala, the morning of the 19th, and arrived, just an hour or so ago, on the 21st, in beautiful Matagalpa, Nicaragua, otherwise known as "The Pearl of the North". Thanks to the magic of the internet, I can tell you that that's roughly 600 kilometers as the crow flies, and thanks to my own experience I can tell you that it's quite a few more as the chicken-bus rolls.

There are a variety of ways to get around in Central America; for long distances overland, most travellers favor first class buses. These usually feature plush seats, ample leg room, onboard toilet, air-conditioning, and an in-ride movie. This is the kind of sucker I mentioned in my last entry - great for overnighters. But there are also second-class buses, afectionately known among travellers as chicken-buses, for reasons that oughtn't be difficult to discern - folks need to get their poultry home from the market somehow, don't they? These are obviously less luxurious, often only slightly modified schoolbuses with trusty roof-top racks for luggage and all manner of extra cargo, living or otherwise. At any rate, I'm telling you all this because on my recent journey, I decided I'd travel by day, so that I might see at least a little something of the two countries I would be skipping - El Salvador and Honduras - and to make my journey by chicken-bus alone.

I was encouraged in this decision when I met, on the very first of what must have been over a dozen buses, a young man not unlike myself, who was actually going even further than I was, down to Costa Rica, and was also planning to make the journey via second class bus exclusively. Fraser his name, hailing from Newfoundland originally, but having been settled in White Rock B.C. for some time, was a quite pleasant fellow, and we two decided shortly after departing that first morning, on travelling together as long as it made sense for our two routes.

Now, I had been on a few chicken buses earlier, on my way down to Lake Atitlan from Antigua, and a good many of similar classification in India, so I knew more or less what to expect. Fraser claimed to have been on a few also, but not so many as I , and I took great pleasure in the coming hours, in watching him grow accustomed to the flow of things, as I myself had once done. To explain, chicken-bus drivers are surely to be counted among the boldest, most fearless, automotive adepts on our planet. These guys drive like they mean it. By that I don't just mean that they drive fast, although they do, they drive very fast, I assure you, but also that they seem to take it to be their solemn duty to overtake as many other vehicles as possible within the span of each trip. Sheer cliffs? Meh. Blind shoulders? Bah. Speeding pickups weighted down full of windswept women and children? Pshaw. Mega-petroleum gas tankers, the wrecking of which would surely spell death for everyone within a 100-meter blast radius? No biggie.

Not uncommon, in fact, were the times when all of the above elements would be present simltaneously. There we would be, roaring down some modest two-lane highway, gunning it to make our way around one such tanker or pick-up load of families, and thereby filling the opposing lane, while rounding some blind shoulder, edging a cliff, and find ourselves face to face with an oncoming transport truck. At such times Fraser and myself would exchange knowing glances, shake our heads as if to say, those crazy guys, they're so silly, and then promptly clutch our seats and force a dry swallow, in preparation for the cold grip of death.

Sometimes we would make it, and sometimes at the last minute, our overzealous driver would realize he'd bitten off more than he could chew, and have to quickly back off, and bring us back into our proper lane. In fact, there is, on most chicken buses, a second fellow - kind of the driver's right hand man - who stands in the stairwell by the front, and whose job it is, among other things, to dangle himself out the door in such situations and let whoever it is we're trying to pass know that they need to slow down and let us back in before we all die. His other duties include securing and minding the luggage strapped to the roof, and so when he's not bringing us back into line after near-misses, he can often be glimpsed out the window making his way around the exterior of the bus as we go. Not boring work, anyway, whatever else you might want to say about it.

At any rate, there is something to be said for moving through a country so quickly, and Fraser and I shared a very pleasant journey together, pausing for a quick lunch that first day, in Guatemala city, and then, after having crossed the border into El Salvador, stopping for the night in dingy San Salvador, the country's capital city. The following day, after a delicious $1 breakfast at the main terminal, we made for the Honduran border, which we crossed just after noon, and didn't stop until the modest Honduran city of Choluteca, where our paths would diverge. We were both headed to the Nicaraguan border, but Fraser's continued course to Costa Rica took him south from here on, while my destination of Matagalpa merited a slightly more northerly border crossing, and so we shook hands and happily parted ways.

My next bus brought me to the tiny border town of San Marcos de Colon, where I boarded the day's last collectivo shuttle to the border itself, some few miles away. I shared this short trip with a pleasant young couple, whom I discovered as we drove on, were newlyweds living in El Salvador, on their way to visit the mother of the young man, in his home country of Nicaragua. We spoke amicably as the sun slowly set, and arrived at the border well after dark. There was hardly a soul around, and the sound of our talk filled the air as we three walked across the wide driveway leading up to the gates, and waved to the only two officials present who stood there chatting idly. As we approached, they greeted us, and promptly retreated back behind their respective glass windows, the one bidding us farewell from Honduras, the other welcome to Nicaragua.

My new friends suggested we share a taxi into the nearby town of Somoto, which we did, and once there, enjoyed a delicious meal of Nicaraguan fare - barbecued chicken and broiled cheese served over rice and red beans, with spicy coleslaw salad. Around this time, it was made clear to me that Marvin, the male half of my dinner guests was a Christian missionary, and a journalist, and despite the fact that he was only just this evening bringing his new wife home to meet his mother, he invited me to tag along, and spend the night. I could stay with them, he said, and after eating and washing up in the morning, continue on to Matagalpa, seeing as there were no more buses to be had this evening. Say what you will about Christians, but the fact of the matter is they're often some of the most hospitable and trustworthy folks around, and I heartily accepted, as heartily as I could in my broken Spanish, anyway, and so off we went.

Marvin's mother lives in the tiny rural municipality of Palacagüina, Nicaragua, which took us a while to reach by late-night taxi but was well worth the wait. Right from the beginning, I was welcomed with open arms by the whole family - except little Juancito, who I must admit, cried quite a bit when he first saw me - which included Marvin's mother, sister, and two young nephews. Juancito eventually warmed up to me too, and I managed to snap some pleasant photos of he and his little brother Andrecito. It felt a little strange being introduced to the family at the very same time as Marvin's new wife, but no one else seemed to give it a moment's thought, so neither did I. That evening we talked and shared delicious coffee and biscuits in the family's modest outdoor kitchen/dining area, the same area where I would later string up my new hammock - freshly purchased in Guatemala - for the first time, and relax after two days of hard travel. I slept well.

This morning, after I'd taken down my hammock, and we'd all shared another coffee, Marvin and company set about preparing us all a delicious Nicaraguan brunch of pechuga relleno, or stuffed chicken breast. Stuffed incidentally - or rather, sliced thinly and wrapped around - dry cheese and mordadella sausage, after having been pan-fried in a mixture of orange juice, savory tamarind sauce and butter. Then the little chicken rolls were boiled in a pot of thick sweet cream with onion and fresh chillis from the garden, before being served alongside more red beans and spicy coleslaw, and fresh tortilla. The whole meal took well over an hour to prepare, but it was a pleasure to just chill-out and spend the morning with the family, laughing and chatting and playing with the kids.

Marvin had some business in the nearby city of Esteli today, which, incidentally is on the way to Matagalpa, and so after brunch, I said goodbye to the family, and we two made for the bus station. Once in Esteli, Marvin pointed me in the right direction, and set me off to Matagalpa, from whence I now write to you, but not before giving me his full contact information, and an open invitation to visit he and his wife again anytime at their home in El Salvador. Yet another totally unexpected and wonderfully awesome experience on the road.

Obviously, a huge part of what makes travel special has to do with the change of place, otherwise we wouldn't have to go anywhere to do it. But as the story above indicates, it also has to do with the people.

Well... I was going to tell you all another story about some other sweet people that I met recently, but I see that this internet shop is closing shortly, and so I will have to cut it short for now. With luck, I'll have time to fire it off in the morning, before I set out in search of the nearby coffee farm at which I hope to be spending the next few days, volunteering and working - this part of Nicaragua is renowned for its world-class coffee! This farm was made known to me by some folks I met back in Oaxaca, Mexico, and although I wasn't sure then that I'd be able to make it happen, I am very excited to be saying that I am almost there!

I hope you're all well! Very best wishes from sweltering Nicaragua!