To Antigua, and beyond

Traveling on Sunday mornings has to be the best. No one is in a hurry, buses aren't packed and the chicken bus vendors are out in force. This morning at Minerva, the market around the bus station hadn't even really picked up yet, though it was almost ten.

I asked for Antigua, and got ushered to what must have at one point been a Linea Dorada bus (first class), but had since been banged around a little bit more, the overhead reading lights were smashed, and there were little plastic stools in the aisle to accomodate overflow. We stopped at every little town.

As per usual, never a dull moment. The man sitting next to me was eating churasco, and once he was done he reached across, opened the window and through out his styrofoam plate. Meanwhile the whole bus began to stink like sewage though there was no bathroom. People began to hold their nose. It took me a minute to figure out that a poor sick little kid had gone in his pants a couple seats down, and his parents were desperately trying to clean him up with newspapers.

The kid hung across his dad's shoulder looking glassy eyed (and he wasn't young, he was probably eight). His dad ended up ripping an extra shirt up for rags. The kids' mom looked miserable.

Eventually, with new pants on, the boy fell asleep and we descended into the warm valley that is Antigua. More about that later.

The price of my ride was actually pretty equivelent to my Linea Dorada trip from Guatemala City to Xela, so I suppose I was paying for character.