On Wednesday, 3/4/20, around 10 AM I left the comfort of my room at the Hotel Clasico Colonial to head for the Guatemalan border.
My last spot in Mexico was a town that is little heard of but is absolutely one of my favorites in Mexico - Comitan. It's the last bigger town/city in Mexico in Chiapas State (one of my favorite, if not favorite, states) before crossing the border into Guatemala.
I left Comitan pretty early that last morning in Mexico and knowing that the spot in Mexico to stamp myself out on my passport is about five miles before the actual border with Guatemala, I saw the non-descript building on my left along with one of those little vans that tourists use. I was already kind of sweaty because I'm sort of fat and wearing too many pants when I pulled up to this building. I saw a bunch of tourists and backpackers sitting in line out front. I pulled up and asked if they spoke English. A couple of Germans answered "yes" and I asked them if they were entering Mexico (same building) or heading into Guatemala. They answered that they were heading into Guatemala so great, I'm in the right place.
I talked with some of the less hippy types including this cool German couple and they told me about their adventures in Mexico. They were just stamping themselves out of Mexico because their 6 month visa was expiring. Their plan was to enter Guatemala for about 12 hours and then reenter to renew their Mexican visa. As they entered the building to get stamped out the Mexican security guard here in Cuidad Cuauhtemoc asked me how much I liked Mexico. Silly goose, you already know I love this freakin country. How could anyone not? I entered the air conditioned building after the Germans stepped out and got my passport stamped. Talked to the Germans a little more as the white tourist bus hadn't left yet and I know they were heading to the official Guatemalan border. I wanted to beat them so I didn't have to wait behind all of them them at the offical La Mesilla border. Looked like I had time so these happy Germans talked with me some more. However, I forgot about the freakin pesticide thing at the actual border.I took some zipties and duct tape and fastened it to part of the frame. I rode towards the actual Guatemalan border to import myself and my bike, hoping that I would beat the van load of tourists that had just left the Mexican aduana and were heading towards the Guatemalan border.
I raced ahead of the white tourist van and in about 5 miles I got to the official crossing into Guatemala. But as I pulled up this guy in a dirty, orange neon vest instructed me that I would have to go inside this buidling and pay 6 quetzales for him to spray my bike with some insecticide. I dismounted and as I made some short conversation with the gentleman inside the damn white van pulled up past my bike letting off all of these same tourists again. Damn! I looked out towards my bike and saw my wheels soaked in wet something that this guy sprayed. You can't win them all. I parked where I was instructed in front of another building, where the tourists had already lined up and I got in line behind everyone except an American and French girl that were slower than me.
As I stood in line waiting to enter the building to get my passport stamped in I noticed that there was a make shift table set up front with two Guatemalan ladies dressed like nurses. Someone instructed us to step a few feet to the side out of the sun.
As I stood in the humidity sweating with two pairs of pants on, the outer riding pants being all black, I swore to myself that I was never going to pass this test. The German guy I met a few miles back in Mexico was a couple of people ahead of me and we joked about me not passing. Two cute girls traveling on this van with the rest of the tourists chatted quietly behind me. In anticipation of my impending failure and the resulting embarrassment, as I approached the nurses’ station I announced in Spanish that I was fat and had two pairs of pants on. Please take notice. As she held the thermometer pointed towards my forehead she showed me the reading of 36 degrees Celcius. I had no idea what this meant. And I asked if it was good and she nodded yes. Excited, I could proceed inside and get my passport stamped into Guatemala.
The rest of the process was long and hot but I knew from this point that I would have no problem getting in. The most difficult part was over and now it was just a matter of filling out paperwork for myself and my bike, showing proof of ownership in the form of my motorcycle’s title and registration, verifying my VIN number on my bike with the paperwork, showing my driver’s license and Mexican TVIP and paying 160 Quetzales to the bank next door. I returned with the receipt, she verified my VIN with the paperwork, verified my license plate saying “SUCIA” and placed the coveted SAT sticker on the inside of my windscreen. I was on my way. As I got my bike ready for the next step I glanced over to my left and the group of tourists was sitting on the ground waiting on transportation. I finished around 12:30 so the whole process took about one and a half hours.
Immediately, upon entering Guatemala, it is different. There was mountains everywhere, chicken buses replaced Mexico's large and modern touring buses and this border town, La Mesilla was like a new itineration of a Mad Max movie. This town, as I forgot since last visiting over 5 years ago, is absolutely fucking insane. The street that I rode down to get out of this border area didn't even feel like a street, especially one whereby chicken buses would pass. It was complete chaos and for that moment I just wanted to get out of La Mesilla, aka Crazy Town. I immediately upon trying to pass as many cars as possible while following scooters with whole families onboard, said out loud to myself and those in earshot "Guata-fuckiing-mala!".
The ride from here was scenic with lush jungle mountains climbing up to the sides of me. It is what I would imagine Vietnam would look like and I took mental note of the beauty here. I also noted how drastically the scenery had changed from just moments before when I was in Mexico. At first the ride, after leaving La Mesilla, was fast and scenic.
But over time, as this Pan-American “Highway” was anything but a highway. It was one lane in each direction, 18 wheeler semi trucks chugging along at 5 mph with chicken buses spitting out black clouds of burned diesel trying to pass everything. It was every kind of vehicle you could find including tractors, scooters, bicycles, buses, semi trucks, busted up pickup trucks with 12 people standing in the bed and me. As I leap-frogged through traffic trying to get ahead of whichever vehicle was causing these slowdowns, I had near misses with oncoming traffic flashing high beams and honking.. I spent the entirety of this day trying to get ahead of those going slower so I could get to Xela. Absolute nightmare as I continued to question how something that is the main highway through C. America is only one lane in each direction through the mountains and at times with the road washed out down the mountain, could exist. If I had to guess, I almost had head on collisions about 15 times that day, with about 4 of those close enough that they were withing a couple of feet of actual contact with my bike, making my way to my reserved room in Xela (Quetzaltenanago) at the Hotel Casa Quezaltenango. For sure, as I arrived at my hotel that night, I was stressed out and needed to drink and smoke.
Of course, after all that stress making my way to Xela, I came to realization long before hitting the city that I had failed to take a screenshot of my hotel reservation. So not only did I not have the reservation number (not a concern) but I had not idea the name or location of the hotel I reserved. So, Xela being the second largest city in Guatemala, was going to eat me up as I had not idea where I was going within the city. I have no cellphone service and rely on wifi for everything.
As I got into the city, I decided I needed wifi. I pulled over and looked up locations and found that there was a Pizza Hut nearby that had wifi. I rode over and was instructed by the parking lot attendant to park my bike next to the 10 Pizza Hut delivery bikes that waited outside. My bike was massive compared to these 150cc delivery bikes. Of course, I couldn’t just go into Pizza Hut and use their wifi so I had to do what is considered sacrilege in New Jersey and order this chain, crap pizza. I ordered the cheapest meal option, something like 36 Quetzales for a personal pan pizza, stale breadsticks with runny, nasty marinara and a soda (no Diet to be found). Yeah, it sounds like I’m tough on Pizza Hut but we are a tough pizza crowd in New Jersey. You need to bring your pizza A game or go the fuck home. But, crappy pizza outstanding, I got wifi, accessed my email and found my hotel online.
Hotel Casa Quetzaltenango is located centrally on the Parque Centro America, prime real estate in Xela. Of course I was lost and had trouble getting there as I creeped with traffic around the park trying to figure out exactly where Maps.me was trying to direct me. It kept pointing to one spot but I was not seeing my hotel. Finally I dismounted off my bike and walked towards where it was guiding me. Down an extremely narrow alley I found my hotel. I was guided in by the hotel staff to the adjacent parking lot next door and as he insisted I keep backing up I heard the telltale crunch of something breaking in the back of my bike.
Lesson learned, when it comes to your motorcycle on a trip like this, never follow along with someone’s instructions on how and where to park if your gut instinct tells you otherwise. Your bike on a trip like this is everything and depending on where you travel, you may not be able to replace parts that are broken along the way. I’m pretty sure he knew I was upset as I went to the back of my bike and realized that the collision of my taillight with the cement wall resulted in the taillight lens breaking off the bike completely leaving my taillight LED display exposed. I told him in Spanish, that I would meet him inside in about 30 minutes as I need to figure out how to fix this light situation and unload all my bags. That was the end of this day mostly.
Bike was unloaded, taillight and broken mounts were packed in a bag to be brought inside the hotel to be repaired in the room. Ultimately, the room was very nice in a very classic, old hotel in a great location. As I sipped on some vodka I brought with me for travel I glued the taillight pieces back together hoping that it would be enough to get me going again. Definitely after a day of almost dying in crazy Guatemalan traffic on CA-1, this was the last thing I wanted to do.
I left my room here near the Parque Centro America and checked out the area. The park was beautiful and on some sides it was surrounded by some bars. This was definitely the hub of activity in this area and tonight ended up being one of those nights on a trip like this where I felt the most lonely. I think it probably was some withdrawal from the pleasant, short conversations I had with some of those tourists from the border. They were all traveling with companions and then as a group of companions and I was envious that I wasn’t there with them. As I walked around the park I found some street food and sat on a bench watching people. The pangs of being alone were tough on me tonight as I wished I just had one person to have a beer with and some conversation. I left the next morning after installing the repaired tail light and loading up my bike with a loose plan to head towards Lago Atitlan and San Marcos del Lago. I didn’t have a reservation or concrete plans but the pangs of being alone subsided with a night’s rest and I was on my way feeling a little bit better.
After many hours on very rough, dirt roads down a very steep mountain I found myself in San Marcos de Laguna, where I had stayed for a few days the last time here.
I couldn't find reasonably priced habitacion for the night, I convinced a church elder at their only church to let me pay 25 quetzales to camp in the little dirt lot out front of the church, at the center of town. Hippies and backpackers watched me set up my tent in the center of town next to a taco stand. Maybe they were jealous of my more organic and cheaper lodgings for the night. Who knows. I bought a bottle of vodka and some shitty cheap Guatemalan smokes and went down the hippie alley to the dock that faced the lake. I ended up splitting that bottle there on the pier with a local guy, his brother and his cousin as we talked about life and I was told my name in their local Kaqchikel tongue. What a night in San Marcos del Lago.
Now I'm in Panajachel on the other side of the lake getting cleaned up and preparing for where I go next and I still don't know.