Travel Memoir: How to Hitchhike Through Guatemala
- Margo Dmochowska
- Feb 23, 2020
- 5 min read
In the summer of 2017, one of my best friends Grace and I decided to add Central America to our backpacker list: which finally made it a positive number since we had only just tasted our post-A level freedom, and this was our first time travelling independently. Our Spanish also did not go beyond ¿cuánto cuesta? [how much is it?] and cerveza [beer]. Two phrases which are especially useful when put together.
After finally finding our feet after many a (mis)adventure that paved our way through Mexico and Belize – something which we could not have done without our new (and slightly more experienced) travel companions, Maria and Zach – it was time to cross the border into Guatemala.
We had split from Zach in San Ignacio (Belize) and decided to meet him later at our destination in Flores (Guatemala). After Maria, Grace and I crossed the border, it was time to find transport to our destination, and we planned to do this as cheap as possible. Twenty minutes into sticking our thumbs in the air proved fruitful, and a nice-looking black car stopped at our feet. When the driver lowered down his window to talk to us, there seemed to be some miscommunication as he was trying to negotiate a price with us. After politely trying to explain that we were not interested in his attempt to capitalise his service – in which case we could have just as well have paid for a taxi – it became quite clear as to what he actually meant when he said ‘no, no, no… I pay you’. Not wanting to prostitute ourselves just yet, we declined the surprisingly generous offer and our thumbs once again graced the air.
In about five minutes, another opportunity approached us in the form of a rather inconspicuous little red car. Inside the car we found two friendly students, and approximately one moment later we found ourselves in the same position. Windows down, music up, and a winsome panorama that stretched beyond the limits of our periphery. I never knew that senses could switch and transmogrify when overwhelmed by the promise of something unfamiliar and exciting. I smelt the light that fell upon the scenery with an exponential craving: watching everything that lay outside the window had the effect of a zoetrope, and it added a new level of dynamism into the whole scenery. I could see myself within the noise and the life of what lay before me.
At one point during the journey, we made an unanticipated stop along the road. The three of us grew a little anxious at this as the students got out the car. Our fear was cut short when they promptly came back with some fruit they picked from a nearby tree – about which I still know nothing more except its taste of a citreous-like pear – and something else which surprised us a little: a turtle. When we questioned about their intentions with the turtle we were received with a simple reply of ‘it will be my pet’. With the turtle question put to bed – and the turtle in the boot – we carried on with our journey to Flores. We arrived just before sunset and gorged on pupusas throughout the whole evening. It was a day well-spent.
The highlights of our time in Flores included the sunrise hike through the monkey howling jungles that surrounded the ancient Mayan ruins at Tikal – where I met my first tarantula (certainly not a highlight for my arachnophobia) – and jumping into Lago Petén Itzá using a homemade rope-swing – where I also met my first whiplash.
Then came the time to chase the promise of beautiful cascading waterfalls, and so we decided to make our way to our next destination: Lanquín. At the hostel we were told that the direct bus should not cost more than $15 each. We set off for the bus station with our dream in mind: and the dream grew rather tainted when, after arriving at the bus station, we were told that the journey would cost considerably more. Seeing ourselves as hitchhike experts by now, we decided to go it alone and to utilise a mixture of chicken buses* and luck. The first bus took us a part of the way and stopped by a river, and we were told to switch. Of course, the actual bus station was across the river, so off we went to pay the local Charon to transport our innocent souls across the Styx in a boat that just about floated. We got the bus but this time, when we were told to change again, we found that there was no other bus and we were stuck in a tiny village nearing dusk.
*chicken buses: name of the mini-bus system used by locals
We managed to hitchhike in the back of a four by four, whose driver told us that he was going to Lanquín. However, the ostensible spurt of luck quickly faded as we learned that the meaning of our conversation with the driver got lost in translation. He was only able to drop us off somewhere on the way to Lanquín, and we were left stranded on a deserted road in the rainforest.
Eventually hope came along once again; in the form of a truck this time. There was no space at the front and the driver had a full load, so he took us round the side where there was a small hatch. Funnily enough, at this point the possibility of getting kidnapped did not seem so bad if we could actually get somewhere. Huddled in the hatch, we watched as the sun made the valley hills its resting place. With the darkness as its stage, we became the spectators of a distant lightning storm. The valley became visible for a brisk moment with the violence of each lightning strike, before it was once again engulfed by the night. We sat watching this zestful show for hours.
The truck came to a stop and we got off in the middle of the rainforest. The driver told us that he would not be going any further. He said that Lanquín was reachable by foot, but he also mentioned that the road was dangerous: the argument for which was emphasised by the gun strapped to his side. With no other option, we made our way: and after over an hour of hiking we were starting to lose morale. Deep into the night, we found ourselves passing through a small village and were lucky enough to find someone who was awake and kindly let us sleep in their shed. Never have I been so grateful to find myself asleep on a hard-concrete floor.
The next day we finally managed to get a bus that took us to Lanquín, and it was only after we reached our destination that we realised how fortunate all our ill luck had been.
There really is no guide on how to hitchhike – only the need to try it and see where it takes you.
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