Peace Corps Guatemala: An American's First Footsteps

I’m on the edge of a highway in a foreign country. Street dogs roam around me, searching for scraps of food, and the constant whirl of cars speeding past bring glimpses of hope, extinguished by the fact that I’m still here, waiting for the bus.

After buying and leisurely eating a chuchito and atol from a nearby street vendor, I eventually hear a tumultuous horn disrupt my wandering mind and watch as the bus rumbles in. I’ll climb up the steps and either clumsily make my way down the aisle, dodging limbs and grabbing seats as it takes off, or I’ll climb up the steps and wait for another 15-20 minutes so the driver can buy and leisurely eat his chucito and atol. When we start down the steep, twisty road, the driver will decide to either move at a normal pace or absolutely haul ass, leaving us to clutch the seat’s railings and fly over speed bumps.

The ayudantes are the people who collect the cash from each rider and bungee-jump large bags, farming equipment, or couches on the top of the bus when necessary. They are athletic, flexible, and a little mean, but also willing to hold a baby and help an abulita up the steps. Ayudantes reach a flow-state on overcrowded buses. Imagine 3 people on each seat and a 7th person using the pressure from either side to make a makeshift seat in the aisle. The ayudantes spiderman their way over the tops of the seats or somehow maneuver their limbs to squeeze through, but the money gets collected, guaranteed. When they reach the back of the bus, instead of moving back through the masses, they will often open the door, climb on the roof, and once again spiderman their way to the front door as the bus is speeding down the highway.

The bus is a canvas to each camioneta driver and ayudante, and they will decorate it with passion. A fan favorite is the photo of a scandalous lady provocatively posing next to a quote like “Jesus is our savior.” But the best vibes come from those who blast regatton, preferably with LED lights changing color and bopping along to the beat that are strung on the shelves above our heads.

There were times when the bus didn’t come, so I hopped on a pickup truck, called a taxi, or used a TukTuk, and I was always fine. Although the systems in place are chaotic, they get the job done 99% of the time even in the rain, the traffic, and with a couch strapped to the roof. The resources and infrastructure available are utilized, which look a little scattered to an American, but it was better public transportation than my hometown.