Crossing borders by foot is always an interesting experience. Right or wrong, it always seems like everyone is trying to rip you off. And no one ever seems to have any accurate information to share. It all started when we got off the mini-bus from Tapachula at the border town, Hidalgo, Mexico. We weren’t sure where the actual border was and we were immediately approached by pedi-cabs (bicycle taxis). After our experience crossing the border between Italy and Slovenia 4 years ago (i.e. long, long walk with our full packs), we decided to take them up on the offer to carry us and our bags (2 larger backpacks, 2 daypacks and a surfboard bag with 3 boards).
They were going to take us across the bridge that crosses the river between Mexico and Guatemala, for a reasonable price. At least I think that is what we agreed to in my broken Spanish. As we started, they asked if we needed to exchange money. I agreed since I thought it would be good to have a little money when we arrived in Guatemala. They stopped at some random spot and took my $20 and were gone for a while. I started getting nervous. They finally came back with my money, but I’m sure we didn’t get a good exchange rate.
A minute later, we approached the border, which turns out to be 50 feet from were the bus dropped us off (we just didn‘t see it). Then the pedi-cab driver starts asking for more money. I was confused, not sure if they were changing the price on us, or if the price we agreed upon was only to get us to the border (50 feet). Maybe they now wanted more to actually drive us across. Or maybe they wanted us to give them our exit tax money (many countries charge you a fee to leave, just to make sure they get any left over money you wanted to keep for your scrap book). At this point, I was a bit skeptical of the whole thing and felt like we were in the process of getting ripped off. Being exhausted from the heat and the overnight bus the night before didn’t help the situation. So we jumped off the pedi-cabs, grabbed our bags and paid the man the agreed amount ($2 I think).
We walked to the immigration window and realized that the pedi-cab was asking us for our exit tax. But I really didn’t want to give it to him. Ultimately, we walked along way across the bridge to enter Guatemala and probably should have just stayed on the pedi-cab.
Once we arrived in Guatemala, it was the same story. Everyone wanted to drive us to the bus station, but no one could tell us where it was. We decided to walk. However, after asking 3 people for directions and getting 3 different answers, we grabbed another pedi-cab to the bus station. We got a good price and the driver was really nice. We told him where we were headed, Xela. He pulled up to a bus marked Xela and told some guy, we thought was the driver, where we were going. The bus station was an empty dirt/mud lot full of “Chicken Buses“. These are old US school buses that are painted in all sorts of wild colors. This was completely different then the 1st class buses and bus station we were accustom to in Mexico.
(Typical Chicken Bus, Xela, Guatemala, not the boarder town bus station)
Now the fun really begins. Immediately, the bus driver started loading our bags onto the Xela bus. At first we thought, ’wow, how helpful.’ We asked how long until the bus leaves, ‘diez minutos’ (10 minutes). Turns out every chicken bus will tell you 10 minutes, no matter how long it actually is going to be. So we get on the bus, our stuff is already loaded in the back, not on top, which was great, and we pay the fare. We are the only ones on the bus.
At one point, we thought we were leaving, but the driver only moved the bus, making room for another bus to pull up. After about 30 minutes we ask, again, how long until we leave…“10 minutes”. After a while, another bus driver comes up to us and asks if we are going to Xela. ‘Of course, we are sitting on the Xela bus.’ He informs us that his bus is leaving soon, and that our buses is not leaving for a long while. After a lot of broken Spanish with several people, we come to realize that our bus isn’t leaving for another hour and a half, and they guy charged us double the usual fare. I (Melissa) was irate. Hot, tired and completely fed up with the whole day, I went up to our driver, angry as hell, said "You say we go to Xela in 10 minutes long time ago but other buses already go. I know we pay double. Many other man tell me cost 50. My husband pay 100. They say you bad. I want my money now!" He just laughed at me and said no. Good thing, because looking back on it, that wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done - yelling at these three guys sitting in a dirty lot in a border town in Guatemala between some chicken buses and dilapidated buildings (with people sleeping in the dirt or peeing on the wall). I told him maybe I should go talk to the police… that’s when he just got up and went back to tinkering with the engine. Crap… what if I pissed off this guy and now he’s going to call his buddies and say, ‘hey, come out and rob my bus today I’ve got this bitchy gringa…’ We decided that if we were the only two people on the bus when it left, we would get off. Then, just as the bus starts to FINALLY move four locals jumped on.
To end this long drawn-out story… we made it to Xela in 6 hours with no incident. The bus stopped every 100 feet or so for more passengers, or so it seemed (which just pleased us to no end). At one point, there were 4 people to each seat, and people crammed in the isle. We were in awe of how people continued to stuff themselves into this school bus. Also, a nice local woman on the bus informed us that we didn’t even get ripped off. The extra charge was because of our large backpacks and surfboard bag. Opps.
