Into Mexico from Guatemala
The beauty with being a flashpacker (rather than a backpacker, and only when it suits), is that you can semi-control long journeys by paying more than a couple of quid to get somewhere.
Today was going to be one of those days: we had over 250 miles to get through, and much as we love Chicken Buses, and could manage this distance on one (or several!) of them, the border formalities tipped the balance for us. Okay, we paid 12 quid each to get from Guat to Mexico, but this meant a little chaperoning at the border, which turned out to be no bad thing!
Three hours after leaving Quetzaltenango (as detailed elsewhere: Emīs writing that entry next to me as I type this one), we pulled into Le Mesilla, the final western outpost of Guatemala. In effect itīs a huge strip of temporary bazarrs selling clothing, DVDīs, fruit, food (possibly) and drinks, leading to a huge sign saying “Welcome to Mexico”.
The DVD stalls were blaring out samples of their wares, creating a cacaphonous sound that drowned out most other things and had the effect of negating any benefit any of them had from playing certain tracks. Little boys scuttled to and fro with portersītrailers, keen to earn some pennies from anyone who needed to get from one side to the other (2.5 miles). And all the time a steady stream of bodies came across from Mexico: almost scenes from a refugee news article. And what people were carrying was amazing. In one rather large pack, wrapped in bin liners, a man revealed a 24 piece dinner set, a food mixer and a little scooter, amongst numerous other things, while we finally realised, as a Subaru Impreza sailed across the border, what those huge great shelf affairs on the back of these cars are really for – perched between the īshelfīand the back window was a 30″ TV tied on by string!
Our mini bus would leave us here, despatch our rucksacks and ourselves onto the not so clean roads (use your imagination here), and then it was a case of getting exit stamps from Guatemala and waiting for our next mini bus to come over the border and pick us up.
Land borders are not like air borders. For a start, it seems pretty much everything can go if you know the right person. And thereīs none of that tedious security business, just the formality of getting oneīs passport stamped. Should be straightforward, eh? We thought these tips might help…but they didnīt really.
Well, it was – to begin with. We queued in an orderly line to go through a jazzed-up porter cabin, got one of the best ever stamps in the passport (it actually had ink on it!), and went back to where the border was, awaiting our next mini bus. The stamp was so good we had to admire it once outside, only to realise it said 29 December 2005 and not 20 December 2005. WHAT?????
So we went back in, showed the guy the stamp, he looked sheepish (thereīs a first for any customs official in the whole wide world), and then just got a biro and casually changed the date to read 20th. Well, if it was that easy, we could have done it ourselves!
Our mini bus turned up, the eight passengers re-loaded all of their gear, and we trundled into no manīs land towards immigration on the Mexico side. So far so good.
Pulling to a halt, there werénīt great queues, and so it was straight in. We knew weīd have to fill in a tourist visa form, and when we got to the front of the queue we politely asked for two, got them and began to fill them in. So far so good.
Until we both made the same mistake. Where it said “permanent address abroad” we both wrote the address for our next stop-off in Mexico, and not our home address. Ooooopps! So I ripped mine into four pieces and asked for another one to begin again. A VERY, VERY bad move!
When I asked the immigration guy, he just looked at me with a stern face, holding the four pieces of paper in his hand. With a shaking head, he turned away and continued to process everyone elseīs passportīs. After about five minutes he turned back to me, and while still holding the four bits of paper called into the back office for his superior to come out and see what this twit had just gone and done. He then made a great play of trying to piece the four bits back together again, and fortunately I held my cool since anyone with an ounce of brain power would complete that jigsaw!
The superior arrived. There was then much more muttering, interspersed with looking at me and shaking their heads. It appeared the problem was that they would be unable to account for that particular form and its unique number. Yes, it was a wind up, since, letīs face it, they had the form in their hands. It was just in four pieces!!! I continued to smile (although I could taste a little blood in my mouth through chewing too hard on my lip), hoping that a) theyīd relent, and b) the mini bus would wait for us.
What seemed like an age later, I was given another form, and quickly filled it in, counting my lucky stars. Handing it over was met with nothing at all other than a stamp in the passport (they needed more ink but it wasnīt the right time to tell them) and one on the tourist visa.
Right, letīs get out of here! The next border crossing is back into Guatemala but from the north and by river boat. Should be a breeze……
Tags: Bordering on the ridiculous???
mihai
December 22nd, 2005 at 11:16 am
“Flashpacker”? I’ll remind you of that next time you scoff at us for staying in a pub in the Brecon Beacons rather than camping…
Greatly enjoying reading the blog.