One big ride

The map didn´t show a highway, or road, just a red line.  Everyone I asked about this route gave a firm “No.”    

The muffin top: bringing sexy back.

“…. but,” I countered, “es posible si?” 
After a hesitated, “mmmmm,” I got a drawn out “siiiiii” as though they still might change that si into a no.  The lady at the café told it was no problem and that a bus would leave at 9:30 that could take us through the mountains to a midway town, and from there transfer buses to get to Lanquin.  To us, it seemed common sense to take the crow´s path instead of the four hour detour the highways appeared to take.  Just figuring out where and when the bus departed was enough of an ordeal.  Everyone gave me a different time, everyone pointed to different locations and everyone swore they were right.  The trucks with loudspeakers blaring the latino rap didn´t help communication, but having Shane with me did.  Two minibus drivers in their early twenties told me they´d drop us at the crossroads and then smirked at each other. I knew they would leave us stranded.  We put our trust in the lady at the café.  She claimed the driver ate there before leaving, but it was already 9:55 so weren´t so sure.  An hour later our minibús showed up.

 

When the driver and his tout threw a mud encrusted tarp over our bags on the roof I got an idea of what we were in for.  At least we were first on the bus so we could choose the best seat.  Switchbacks in the mountains, picking up more and more people roadside, human pressed next to human, squirming kids.  Logan was not dealing with the ride very well - he gets sick on the 400.  An hour in the tout grabbed my shoulder and signalled that Logan was vomiting. To be honest I didn´t notice since we were all so hot and slimy to begin with.  I was already on the 2nd day of my inside-out shirt day.  We wondered if this ride would push the kids too far, but we didn´t really see any other route that made sense.  After I cleaned things up he curled up and went to sleep on my lap.

We climbed up the edges of steep mountains quickly leaving the developed villages with corrugated metal rooftops to the remote houses made of bamboo.  It was a window rattling, bumpy ride.  You could probably jog faster than our bus travelled.  It was hard to believe people lived up here, and even more that crops were growing on the almost vertical hillsides.  As soon as we reached the top of one wrinkled mountain face, the road opened into even higher and more scenic mountain ranges.  Fortunately for us, Shane had a 3 hour nap and Logan slept for 2 hours, taking up much of the ride.  They were both happy and relatively relaxed for the rest of the way.  It was late afternoon when we reached the transfer town.  One look at where we were and we agreed we had to push on.  People weren´t even speaking Spanish - only Qechi.  Good call, we later checked our guidebook and it was mentioned as a don´t go there destination that gets dodgy at night.  It was dusk when we reached our final destination of Lanquin - another 2 hours to travel just 24 km.  We gave out a family cheer to celebrate.   

Logan said a few times in the last few weeks, “I love travelling,” and sometimes he asks “Are we travelling right now?”  He really enjoys getting to a new hotel and checking things out.  He has a few Spanish words now and is more comfortable approaching kids and saying Hola!