The first time I rode a Camioneta (or "chicken bus", as they're nicknamed in English), a CCR song was blasting, and I am sure that song will forever onwards bring me forcibly back to that moment. Camionetas are de-commissioned school buses from the US that have been painted with lurid colors and given lady's names (Elena, Esmerelda, Nena). Several naked-lady profile stickers, like the kind that grace mudflaps in the US, are usually stuck to the windshield. The inside, around the driver's cab, is usually a shrine to Jesus, with pictures dipicting holy scenes and signs proclaiming how this bus is blessed by God.
That first time riding, I got on to find that every seat was stuffed with three adult passengers (one of them half in the aisle), and the aisle was halfway filled up with standing passengers. The driver roared off as soon as the last entering passenger's foot left the ground. Me and my three compañeras (fellow trainees) squeezed into the aisle and hung on for dear life as the bus swung around mountain curves as break-neck speed. The 'ayudante' (man who collects fairs) was hanging out of the doorway before he managed to squeeze himself between the standing passengers stuffed into the aisles and the others hanging out of the seat, using his photographic memory to approach each new person that had gotten on for fares. I truly didn't think it possible for him to get past me, my backpack, and the two pairs of shoulders up against each of my hips, but he did. My compañeras looked pissed and annoyed, but I thought it was kind of fun.
Since then, I've had many experiences with the camionetas and gotten used to the unexpected. Once, a bus was so full that it was passengers that were hanging out of the open doorway, and the ayudante gripped with one arm the open window, his feet precariously balanced on a ledge on the side of the bus, and his other fist stuffed with fares. Another time I had the driver´s gear shift jammed into my butt. Once, when we were heading back from the market in the busy city of Chimaltenango, the camioneta driver got annoyed that he was stuck behind a slower moving bus (probably a more expensive, safe one geared at tourists), and he created a third lane by passing the bus in the middle, forcing on-coming traffic to drive in the road's shoulder. Other times, I have managed to get a seat to myself, and I've even seen a decently safe driver. But you never know what you'll get. In Guatemala, even the buses are an adventure.
That first time riding, I got on to find that every seat was stuffed with three adult passengers (one of them half in the aisle), and the aisle was halfway filled up with standing passengers. The driver roared off as soon as the last entering passenger's foot left the ground. Me and my three compañeras (fellow trainees) squeezed into the aisle and hung on for dear life as the bus swung around mountain curves as break-neck speed. The 'ayudante' (man who collects fairs) was hanging out of the doorway before he managed to squeeze himself between the standing passengers stuffed into the aisles and the others hanging out of the seat, using his photographic memory to approach each new person that had gotten on for fares. I truly didn't think it possible for him to get past me, my backpack, and the two pairs of shoulders up against each of my hips, but he did. My compañeras looked pissed and annoyed, but I thought it was kind of fun.
Since then, I've had many experiences with the camionetas and gotten used to the unexpected. Once, a bus was so full that it was passengers that were hanging out of the open doorway, and the ayudante gripped with one arm the open window, his feet precariously balanced on a ledge on the side of the bus, and his other fist stuffed with fares. Another time I had the driver´s gear shift jammed into my butt. Once, when we were heading back from the market in the busy city of Chimaltenango, the camioneta driver got annoyed that he was stuck behind a slower moving bus (probably a more expensive, safe one geared at tourists), and he created a third lane by passing the bus in the middle, forcing on-coming traffic to drive in the road's shoulder. Other times, I have managed to get a seat to myself, and I've even seen a decently safe driver. But you never know what you'll get. In Guatemala, even the buses are an adventure.
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