It’s going to be a little hard to put Guatemala to words, but here it goes.

We were lucky… but then again, maybe we just enjoyed the average tourist experience in this vibrant and beautiful country. Despite the steady hype about street crimes and other annoyances on the streets of Guatemala, I’m happy to say that we only found good vibes, happy people and a rich traditional culture on the streets that our journey took us down. Ok, so some places were incredibly overwhelming – crazy sounds, outrageous smells, odd sights and aggressive street vendors practically shoving their goods in our pockets – but the overall experience was always positive and for the most part, downright inspiring.

The wild ride began at the airport in Guatemala City, where Che figured we would just jump on a local bus and head for 18 th Street where we could catch a bus for Panajachel from the main downtown bus station. Little did we know at the time, but this is the part of town that every guide book tells you to avoid. Luckily, a local Guatemalan who used to live in New York spotted us at the bus stop and hopped on board to check us out (yes, it seemed shady to me at first too). He started talking to us and then volunteered to help us locate the main bus station.

We walked through the heart of what I believe is referred to as Zone 1, taking in the sights of the giant Mercado, crazy traffic and chaotic life of the city center. I have to admit, I was a little nervous heading into this part of town and starting to get even more uneasy with the services of our unsolicited tour guide. All was well though, and we managed to find the funky warehouse-style bus station on an obscure little sidestreet. Our friend advised us that we had missed the direct bus to Panajachel, but that we could jump one bus out of town and catch another bus somewhere else. He pointed to the bus in the back of the warehouse and said we were good to go.

We joined about 20 other passengers on the bus, which had probably been running for a least a half hour. The air was foul with heavy carbon monoxide fumes and we weren’t quite sure when the bus would leave, but we were happy to be off the streets. After about 15 minutes, we pulled out of the warehouse. Immediately, the guy at the front of the bus stood up and motioned for all of us to get down so that we wouldn’t be seen from the windows. Apparently, the bus wasn’t licensed to transport passengers through the city. I looked around and everyone seemed to know the drill, so I figured “when in Rome..."

The whole experience was hilarious – first of all because we had no idea where the bus we were riding was heading, second because we couldn’t sit up in our seats and see where we were going, and third because the guy at the front was speaking so fast that I had no idea what he was talking about. This was not a ride for the weak-spirited. I loved that I had Che with me to enjoy the chaotic scene, I loved that I had to ride four of these crazy, psychedelic buses before we arrived in Panajachel, and most of all I loved that I didn’t even care if I made it to our original destination city. I was caught in the moment and thoroughly enjoying the ride.

From getting smuggled out of the city and sharing my seat with the locals, to riding the “SS Ass Slammer” across Lake Atitlan and arriving after dark at the forlorn, rickety dock of San Juan de la Laguna, getting there really was half the fun of this adventure.

April 6, 2006