BootsnAll Travel Network



Guat City to Copan

We stocked up at breakfast then got a taxi to Calle 19 in the lowlife district of Zona 1 where the buses left from. We knew that this was going to be a hectic place, rife with pick pockets and folks ready to whip away bags the minute you took your attention away. The taxi driver even indicated that we should keep an eye on our bags by pointing at the bowels of the bus where the bags were heading for and then pointing at his eye with a grim look on his face.

There were buses everywhere followed by their smoky fumes. And as soon as the taxi doors opened we were swarmed by guys trying to get us on their bus and lifting our rucksacks from the boot.

The bus to Chiquimula was waiting and our rucksacks loaded into the hold. We sat on the bus over the hold to keep an eye on what was going in – and more importantly, out! The bus wasn’t going to leave until it was full, so were sat waiting as the driver kept the revs going, for a futher 40 minutes. It perturbed us slightly when a security/police guy got on the bus with a large gun. We wondered if all buses got this kind of security. And how many other people on the bus were carrying weapons? But as Eug said, at least we could see he had an AK 47 and a round of bullets where his trouser belt should be; it’s what you don’t see under other garments that is perhaps more worrying

This was slightly different to the chicken buses we’d been on before – more of a coach with comfy seats, but even so the windows needed to be open for ventilation, which largely consisted of lungfuls of exhaust fumes from the ever revving engine.

Entertainment was provided throughout the journey by the various sellers who got on and off at the sporadic stops. Usually food – fruit, nuts, newspapers, drinks at the beginning. As soon as the bus lurched to a halt there’d be a constant stream of hawkers boarding the bus until they reached a bottleneck somewhere towards the back and then flooded back down again. As the got on with various containers of various items (let’s leave it at that for a description!) they’s sing they’re wares in a lulling sort of way: “Agua, Agua, Agua, Agua, Agua, Agua, Agua,” or “Diaro, Diaro, Diaro, Diaro, Diaro, Diaro,” (the national newspaper). A simple and polite “Non, gracias” always saw them on their way down the aisle; until the next one came along!

As the journey progressed the selling got more interesting. Our personal favourite was Mr Soul Glow, who had a shiny curly mullet that was slicked so stiff that a force 10 gale wasn’t moving that baby. He gave a five minutes sales pitch as he waved around his pot of magic cream and then handed out both varieties around the bus for all to examine. Our poor Spanish meant that we never worked out what the magic cream was for – the pots were tiny. Maybe it kept your hair in place – just like his? He left the bus without a sale which was a shame after all the effort he’d put in. The guy on the bus selling hot bread/pastries at the same time was doing a roaring trade, including a purchase from Eug, who while he managed to eat the dried bread and meagre filling supplemented with chilli sauce squirted over the top, that threatened to overrun his shirt and trousers, he reckoned it wasn’t as good as the Saltenas we’d eaten in Peru a year ago.

As lunchtime approched, the fare changed, with ladies on the bus selling a vareity of hot breads, smothered in a dash of chilli tomato sauce. Or how about a full chicken dinner – it didn’t smell too good but it was going down a storm.

Our route into eastern Guatemala wasn’t wuite as impressive as across the Western Highlands, but nevertheless was full of spectacular canyon-like valleys that swept away from the side of the bus, speckled with thorn bushes and other occasional vegetation in an increasingly arid landscape.

When we got to Chiquimula, the roaring heat from the sun plus the smoke and heat from street vendors welcomed us. And the place was buzzing with people around the shops and market, this being the main market town in this part of Guatemala. We started walking, or rather plodding. Eug has insisted on carrying both main rucksacks during this holiday, leaving me with just the day sack. He says he doesn’t mind. Obviously I don’t either. Judging by the amount of sweat he loses each time he undertakes this Sherpa-like experience he clearly feels it’s a good way of losing weight.

After walking round a couple of blocks, through the colourful market, we found the collectivo to El Florido, which is on the Guatemalan-Honduras border. Eugene went off the find the loo – he said it was the worst experience so far on this trip – not too clean and fortunately for him, a job he could stand up to.

The minibus was packed, as expected, and we were glad to get moving to get some breeze. We then had to change minibus, not sure why, but it wasn’t long before we were at the border.

This was the easiest border so far, but there’s more about that elsewhere in the category ‘Bordering on the Ridiculous???”.

On “the other side”, we easily found another collectivo that was going to Copan Ruinas in half an hour. Shortly after that we were there.

Copan Ruinas town itself appeared to be a fairly quiet, pleasant place nestling amongst some minor mountains all around, with a river flowing grandly in the valley just below where the town is perched. Our B&B, the Casa de Cafe, was a few blocks away from the main square. A very clean place with colourful bedspread and nice shower! A couple of hammocks were hung outside the rooms, looking out onto a pretty garden with lots of flowers and hummingbirds.

I had to have a lie down – this is a holiday after all! Eugene went into town to book our next set of travel arrangements back into Guatemala.

We were starving that night after not really eating all day, so headed to the local pizza restaurant. We should have checked on the size of the pizzas before ordering one each. They were massive but really tasty, and we tried our best but almost a whole pizza still remained, albeit made up of two different types! The restaurant boxed it up for us – we felt bad for being so greedy. Knowing it wouldn’t keep for breakfast, we looked for a bin and secreted it there.

And then it was time for bed, with the Honduran set of Mayan ruins planned for the morning. Apart from wanting to be there first thing, we probably won’t have much choice if these noisy creatures are anything like pretty much everywhere else we’ve stayed so far!



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3 Responses to “Guat City to Copan”

  1. Ann Street Says:

    I am enjoying reading about your trip – keep the reports coming!
    Enjoy rhe rest of it.
    All the best for 2006, Ann.

    PS found your blog by accident.

  2. Nigel Baston Says:

    Happy New Year to you both.
    Hope you had a good one, we did.
    Thanks for the Xmas Chocs–up another waist size! Thank goodness for the January sales.
    Take care
    Nige’

  3. Hannah Holloway Says:

    Happy new year to you both. Hope you’re having a good one so far.
    Thanks for the great Xmas pressies and the fantastic Mozza card – where did you find that?!
    Lots of love Hannah Alan and Samuel xx