After impressing the pants off myself with my command of the Spanish language, Peter and I boarded a bus to Mazatenango where we should have been able to transfer to a Tulate bus.

Chicken busses get more and more fun, when you realize how to enjoy them. (see 'How to Ride a Chicken Bus' on this page)

Needless to say, we got stuck in Mazatenango for the night, but eventually managed to find a place that didn't laugh at us when we told them how little we wanted to spend. Wasn't a bad place actually, we were quite comfortable and spent the evening hanging out in the market eating the streetfood (mistake number one - see Sick Section.)

Early in the morning we got on a bus to Tulate and were absolutely charmed by the place. It was NOT Gringoland, nor was it really Gringo-friendly. No one spoke a word of english... excellent! We spent about an hour trying to find a place to stay. What we wanted was a cabin or hut or bungalow on the beach which proved impossible. After following a small child half a kilometer down the beach we found the cabins they were offering were basically pig styes (litterally, pigs included). We finally went for the first place we looked at, a very new looking place that didn't have all its walls yet.

Peter and I spent a couple lovely days on the beach, trying not to get swept out to sea, or get too sunburned.

There were no toilet facilities to speak of, and people were very strange, in that, they really didn't want to talk to us. We enjoyed eachother's company emmensely and spent hours walking the beach planning where we were going to hypothetically build our backpacker huts and make our living together.

Our last night there, Peter got zapped by the light socket and spent some quality time with me down on the beach using the facilities (see Sick)

We decided to leave Tulate the night before we had planned so we could spend another night in Mazatenango... at least there were toilets and showers. We ate street food again that night (some people never learn) and Peter got really sick, but not for long, and the next day we were up and out of there back to Xela to learn more Spanish.

Needless to say our "last weekend together" didn't go as well as we had planned. I was having some serious trouble with my job arrangements back home so I said "stuff it" and decided to stay rather than return to Canada.

Sick Report

Because there were no toilets, I became very used to doing my sick-thing in the sea (hey, fish do it!) This is ok at night but during the day you have to brave some serious waves to get far enough away from people who are swimming.

When Peter electrocuted himself on the light switch, I was on my way to the sea, so he joined me... he had it worse than I did, I have to say. It was coming out both ends. I never want to be that intimate with anyone ever again.

It got to the point where, he would come in and use the facilities while I was showering and vice/versa... it had to be done cause when you can't wait, you can't wait. Ew!

How to ride a Chicken Bus

Chicken busses are used to transport families and pets and food from the middle of nowhere to the middle of nowhere else. Most of the time these families will try to cram everything into one seat (usually yours).

Enjoying your journey is not difficult if you follow these rules:

1. Look intimidating. People are already scared of you, it shouldn't be hard.
2. If you must share your seat, look as tall as possible and take up as much room as you can... maybe they'll just give you babies to hold.
3. When the vendors get on with food buy everything, even if you don't know what it is.
4. If someone starts a speech trying to sell religious items, raise your hand as if to ask a question... this terrifies non-english speakers.
5. Don't sit near the drunk guy who's about to pass out. There's a reason he has a lot of extra space.
6. Always give money to buskers on the bus. Then request your favorite Spanish songs (Christmas Carols are best).