A scary stopover in San Salvador and then the joy of Guatemalan cakes and markets!

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After a slightly underwhelming experience on the Corn Islands, it was time to move on to pastures new. Before this, however, was the small matter of a night in Nicaragua’s capital Managua, another 30 hour bus journey and a stopover in San Salvador, El Salvador’s notoriously rough capital. As we had one night to waste in another grimy inner city before we could set off (due to having missed a bus by a matter of minutes after our German friend asked a taxi to stop for rum en route) we decided to book into a hotel within the bus terminal as the area around didn’t look too inviting. We scraped together enough spare change to afford a meal of rice and an unidentified meat that was mainly fat and gristle, set our alarms for 4am and got some rest. Next morning, we departed 5am on the dot and were pleased to find the bus mainly empty. The journey to the Nicaraguan border was reasonably uneventful apart from the breakfast stop at a local comedor where we unwisely chose to order whatever everyone else was having. Rice, beans and some sort of meat taco type thing in a weird sauce. We ate it very quickly as the bus was getting ready to go and instantly regretted our decision. Zoe has sworn that she will never eat tacos again and the mere word was enough to make us both feel queasy for the entire duration of the journey.



Once into El Salvador it was easy to see why many of the travellers we have met so far rate it so highly, the forests and landscape are much greener than Nicaragua and if we were hardier, well-travelled types then we probably wouldn’t have been so daunted by all the stories of violence and gang crime that seem to permeate the travel discussion regarding the place. When we initially got to San Salvador we thought there had been a mistake, there were pizza huts, fancy shopping centres and really nice looking houses. Surely this couldn’t be the capital of one of the most violent countries in the world? As the bus continued on however, we started to enter the other side of the city, the familiar shanty type, tin roof settlements that have been common in every city of Central America so far. The guards with shotguns in every shop, hotel and doorway show very clearly that the city’s reputation is not completely unfounded. We arrived at the bus station and were in for a shock. Managuas fancy new terminal with shop and hotel attached it was not. The station was more of a carpark joined on to the side of some guys’ crappy hostel. The owner clearly knew he was onto a real money spinner as he was charging extortionate prices knowing that most tourists wanted the next bus out and were too scared to leave the place as it started to get dark. With Zoë’s card still blocked and limited cash left we decided not to give in. However, our plan to stay in the terminal until the next morning was scuppered by the fact it closed at 9. After making the owner feel sorry for us we finally managed to haggle him down to less than half the price (still way over the odds!) but we didn’t really have much choice. We’ve seen some sights on our short travels so far but this guy’s idea of a room was something else! We walked up two rickety fire escapes and along some narrow stairwells until we finally reached the roof. He took us up yet more steps and finally opened up what can only be described as a cell. Far from swinging a cat, you’d struggle to swing a mouse in the place. Windowless and with a bolted metal door, we were pretty sure that every single building regulation ever written was being violated. An unsettled night’s sleep later and we were very glad to be out of there but did feel sorry that we had seen the worst of San Salvador without giving the other, much better, side a chance.



Another border crossing was taken with relative ease and we began to cross the very narrow bridge across the river into Guatemala. We aren’t sure what it was but the minute we entered Guatemala, we knew that we would like the country. The markets were colourful and busy, the people were happy and even the cows and horses looked in better shape when compared to those we saw in Nicaragua. We passed the usual McDonalds and Burger Kings in every town, another staple of Central America so far, and headed into Guatemala City (or Guate as the locals called it). Although the terminal was a lot better than El Salvador, we were both still a little apprehensive when we got off as Capital cities are still usually places to avoid. Sensing fresh prey, a helpful worker from the terminal said that they had a convenient shuttle to Antigua, our final stop, and it was by far the safest way to travel. He then explained that taxis were dodgy and buses were even dodgier, and don’t even think about walking. We couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that these people were preying on the fears of tourists who don’t know any better and in the end decided we wouldn’t give in and pay him 10 times the price it should have been. With our backpacks we headed off in search of the buses. A few taxis tried to make us pay over the odds but after a bit of haggling we told them we were fine walking. The local people were generally really friendly and helpful, even if we did look a bit of spectacle, so much so that after asking a security guard (with the obligatory shotgun) for directions, he asked if he could take a picture of the stupid gringos. After asking many, many people for directions in improving but still broken Spanish we finally got to the bus station just to see our bus leaving. No matter, the conductor apologised to the policeman directing traffic and stopped at the entrance to an overpass before ushering us and our bags on board. As a stereotypical chicken bus, we were treated to the booming stereo behind our heads blasting a mix of reggae, dance and a good bit of pitbull, all whilst sitting in an old American school bus but were a bit disappointed as it seemed rather empty and not at all like the tales we had heard. That didn’t last. Group after group of people got on, through the front and through the fire escape at the back until every spare inch of the bus was crammed. Apparently if those standing see a police man they have to duck; around 200 people in a bus meant for 50 is not strictly legal and definitely what you would consider safe. Having said this, even with some rally worthy driving and close proximity to fellow passengers, neither of us felt unsafe and definitely don’t think the buses were unwelcoming for tourists.



We jumped out of the fire escape with our packs and settled on the nearest bench to get our bearings and try to navigate the cobbled streets of Antigua. Just as we were starting to get frustrated, a local on a motorbike stopped and with his broken English and our broken Spanish we managed to set off for the centre. What followed was an hour and a half of wandering in circles, in the heat and carrying all of our possessions, until we finally found the hostel we were looking for. Strangely enough it looked closed but we rang the doorbell anyway. No answer so we tried again but still no luck. Thankfully another man came along and was also trying the door. He watched me try once more before saying ‘its closed, no open’ and I finally registered what it said on his t-shirt. Pest control. Back to the drawing board on that one.



After a bit more wandering and haggling in hostel doorways we eventually stumbled upon a place that was cheap, welcoming and had little sign of a rat infestation so we got a room. After a very good burger at a local place we got some well-earned rest. Our first signs of Guatemala had been good and were only to get better as we started to explore Antigua, the bakeries and cake shops that lined the streets were in stark contrast to the poverty of Nicaraguas cities. Although the colonial architecture was similar, it was much cleaner and made even more impressive by the surrounding scenery dominated by the imposing volcanic figures of Fuego, Agua and Acatenango.



Once we hit the Guatemalan markets it was like heaven (for Mike at least) as there was all manner of tourist trinkets (mostly tat but that doesn’t matter) and everything else besides. The fruit and vegetables were amazing and compared to the rotten, fly ridden stalls of Granada and Leon they were a real treat. Finally we could eat fresh food every day and it cost next to nothing. And we had spare money left for cakes!



We were sat in the central park one morning debating what to do when a local teenager (20 but looked about 12!) came over and started chatting to us, his English being as good as our Spanish. We found out that he was studying tourism, lived just out of Antigua and his name was either Alex or Christian. He asked us what we had seen and then told us we had to visit the Cerro de la Cruz (hill of the cross) what followed was an impromptu tour of the town and a very steep walk to a hillside where you could see the whole town and surrounding volcanoes. We taught Alex some English and he taught us Spanish. After promising to keep in touch via Facebook we headed back to find some food.



After settling in to our hostel and exploring every inch of the town with the help of our various friendly locals, we decided on a trip out. Not having yet had our fill of markets we booked a shuttle to Chichicastenango, home to one of the largest markets in Central America. It was a reasonably comfortable 3 hour journey up twisting mountain roads to the town itself which on first appearances was a rather boring place with the same old streets of houses, dubious butchers and tiny corner shops. Once we made our way into the middle however we hit the masses of tourists, hawkers and unbelievably small locals. After walking around for a while it became clear that the indigenous Mayan population of chichi and surrounding villages were lucky if they reached five feet. We spent most of the day feeling like giants. As with other markets it was a mix of overpriced tat, local food and any number of random used electrical items (car battery, extractor fan or an old tv amongst just a few we saw). There were some bargains to be had somewhere within the labyrinth of stalls, especially with a bit of haggling, but it was increasingly difficult to work out a good price for anything as each stall holder dragged you in an immediately inflated their prices by way over three hundred percent. Although we made some purchases for ourselves and people back home, Chichi had become possibly a little overhyped as a tourist destination when in fact it was just a larger, louder and dirtier version of the many markets we had already been to in Antigua.



Next on our itinerary are a short stay in a treehouse in the mountains, a brief trip to Lake Atitlan and then we will head to the most famous of all of Guatemala’s attractions, Semuc Champey and Tikal.

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