My plan had been to stay in a hostel near the bus companies in Zona 1 so that I would not have to pay for another taxi in the morning. However, it just so happened that the hostel I selected also had a delicious banana/strawberry pancake breakfast beginning at 8am. Therefore, I had a somewhat leisurely morning before heading out to find a bus to get myself to Xela. However, once I started out I realized that I'd missed the early bus out to Xela which was at 8am and that there wasn't another until 3pm. That wouldn't put me in Xela until after dark and I would still have to arrive at my homestay as well. The other bus company I located didn't even have buses to Xela on Sundays.
Therefore, I decided to make my way out to the outskirts of town to take a chicken bus instead. I asked at the front desk of the hostel to see if it was an actual possibility if the chicken buses ran on Sundays. He was very helpful, showed me the city bus stop I would need to get myself to in order to get myself to the chicken bus terminal, all in Spanish. I packed up my stuff, wrote down the stop I needed to go from and the one I needed to get off at, and was on my way.
Finding the bus stop was a bit more difficult than I anticipated. Once I finally located it, it was closed. I heard someone explaining to someone else that they had to go to another stop that I had already been to. So I hiked back with all my belongings. Then I couldn't get in. It only took coins. I stood around looking lost for a few minutes, then went back across the street to the store fronts to figure out how to get coins. I noticed there a stand where people were just handing over bills and easily getting back coins. I tried it to. So simple, didn't even have to say anything.
Eventually the bus came. I didn't get a seat so was still standing with my giant pack still strapped to my back. The stop I went back to was actually the beginning of a loop. It went through the main part of town through all the stops I'd already walked past, then the bus finally went by the stop that had been closed and we were finally on our way. After awhile a guy got up and offered me his seat, but by the time he walked over to me to ask if I wanted it, some lady already took it.
At some point, I arrived at my stop and was on my way! Hurrah, for successfully navigating public transportation in Guatemala City! Once off the bus, I followed the crowd out of the stop and at the top of some stairs asked for directions. The lady I asked was possibly going to lead me astray but a guy stepped in and told me which way to go. I walked for a ways without finding anything, trying to get up the courage to ask someone else. I decided to go with a male again, but didn't quite understand his explanation of where to go.
The next guy I asked wanted to send me back to Zona 1 on one of the fancy buses even after I explained the scheduling problem. He told me to take the bus to Zona 1, or even better, use one of the white taxis, right over there. Afterward I realized that with all this Spanish only instead of the English from the other countries I just visited my brain is doing a strange thing. It's translating everything to English so then when our conversation was over the words left in my head were English so I thought he'd actually spoken English to me. Nice that my brain can so quickly translate without working too hard at it, but it will be nice when/if it doesn't have to do that extra step. An interesting experience to have to question whether I just conversed with someone in English or Spanish though.
At some point I finally found some chicken buses. However, they were the wrong ones but one of the assistants finally gave me a clear answer where I could find the ones headed to Xela. It was quite a bit more of a walk with my heavy pack though. Perhaps, the first lady I asked had been correct if I'd just listened to her. Once I was getting close to where the other chicken buses were a van pulled over saying they were headed to Xela. I was getting tired of walking so decided to give the minivan a try instead of seeking out a chicken bus.
In the end the minivan was the same price with less stops because it could only fit around 20 people on it. For some reason I like this experience and that of chicken buses better, of being squeezed in on top of other people, than the "luxury" buses of the other countries I've just come from. I think in the end I was kind of glad that I missed out on taking one of the fancy buses that morning and saved myself money in the process.
It was interesting passing places where I made transfers on this same journey when I was last in Guatemala. Nice to have some familiarity with returning to a place that you have already been. "Oh, I remember waiting on that corner, and that one too!" And arriving at the bus terminal in Xela, remembering the first time I'd arrived there a couple months ago, having to be told that I'd arrived and to get off the bus. But this time, seeing and knowing exactly where I was.
I'd decided that if it was after 3pm, I would take a taxi, before I would try and get a minibus. I looked at my phone, 3pm on the dot. Minibus it is then, I guess. However, even though things were familiar I still had some difficulty locating the stops for the minibuses, but when I finally got on one I ended up being dropped off nearly right in front of my school, how convenient!
Ilse, the secretary/housekeeper greeted me at the door and called my homestay. My house mom, Claudia, came and walked me to their house. She showed me to my room and fed me lunch. Later that evening, I went back to the school and hung out with my friend, Patrick, who was still there at the school from before I left and staying in the connected hostel. We were joined by another girl who was meeting someone for a movie and invited us along. In the end, I didn't get home until 11pm and got in trouble from my house mom for arriving too late and not telling her I was leaving. Oops.
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