Guatemala
We entered Guatemala with the help of a tramitadores. They are unofficial helpers you will find at every Central American border who will offer to get you through the border faster. Perhaps some mean well, but most are con artists and in good with other corrupt customs agents. Basically everyone gets to line their pockets with your dough. I respect the fact that this is a job for some people and I have no problem agreeing on a price for the help and paying that price. What I don’t like is the dishonesty and the corruption that the customs officers partake in and how the tramitadores lead you right to the officers they want you to deal with.
We had read a lot about the border crossings we were coming up on and what the fees should be. When we got to the border, followed by a tramitadore named Carlos and his son on a dirt bike, I realized I could not do it alone. There were too many different buildings and offices to go to and most were hard to find and unofficial looking. Carlos was quick and skilled at making me feel comfortable with his help; he even had his son watch over our van, which Ashley was already guarding. Carlos led me to countless buildings to fill forms out and have them stamped. We walked to and from many offices for over an hour and each time I had to pay. It was steadily adding up. Then the kicker, he led me to an office several blocks inside Guatemala where I was to fork over 1300 Quetzals ($180 USD) for the obligatory registering of my passport. I was told this was to cover me for all the C-4 countries. It would mean I could pass all the way to Panama before having to pay another fee or get another vehicle importation permit. I was very skeptical, never had I read that we might pay that much. But, the men in the office were in uniform, they had computers, Carlos and the men seemed equally surprised that the fee was unknown to me and I was simply told I had to pay to enter. After trying my best to have them show me some kind of regulation or official papers stating this exorbitant cost was necessary, I never saw a form, just my passport and vehicle information entered on an excel spreadsheet on one of the officer’s computers. I noticed at this point that the officer to my left was devoting all of his attention to his own computer which was displaying a rather cheesy porn clip, the volume was muted. I know what you’re thinking, no papers to support the fee and customs officers watching porn, how could you pay these men? Well at the time I saw no way out of it, so I did just that, I paid them. Not the 1300Q. I was originally quoted, but $100USD. This change in price led to later confusion over the rate of exchange. I left feeling like I was scammed, but not totally sure either. Next I had to pay Carlos, he politely explained all the steps he “helped” me with and asked for 600Q. Since I thought my original calculation was wrong and 1300Q. must be equal to $100USD, I decided that the 600Q he wanted was equal to about $40 and that was high but, fair. In the car and with a calculator I realized I had paid him about $90USD plus well over $100 in other fees. I’m still not sure of the official border procedure and fees but, after talking with other travelers it seems as though this border is among the most corrupt. That being said, many others paid as little as $20 to enter and as much as $300. Proceed with caution and nerves of steel.
Chichicastenango
We crossed the border on a Saturday and had read that the best market in Central America was held on Sundays in Chichi, as the locals call it. We were meandering along highways with few signs until we saw one for Chichi, and made the decision to turn off the highway. The road is curvy and steep, both up and downhill. Much of the time our van was limited to 1st gear. The drive was entertaining though and we arrived before sundown. We cooked up a pasta dish in the Westy and were swarmed by the most adorable Mayan children. They were aged between 3 and 10 and nothing but smiles and laughs. They spoke only Quiche with each other and Spanish with Ash and I. They asked how much just about every article in the van cost, and after revealing the price (normally made up to be a fraction of) they requested the article of interest as a gift. That night we were treated to a fabulous thunder storm. Early the next morning we awoke the sounds of the market. I looked out the window to see that the market was on our street. As we walked into the market we came to realize it was on every street. It was huge and full of colours, smells and commotion. We walked and bargained a bit for some artwork. The market was great and we hope to be back some day.
Antigua
We felt totally lost as we drove along a totally deserted, but brand new highway. Somehow we drove right into Antigua and were approached by a man named Carlos, this one made up for the last jerk of the same name. He led us to a few Spanish schools and we settled on the Latino America Academy. It was the low season (May) and we were able to homestay with the Sanchez family who own the school. My teachers were Jose and Karla, husband and wife and owners. They were great teachers and friends. Karla is an amazing cook and spending time in their home and with their three children was the very best school experience I could have wished for. Moreno spent 2 weeks taking lessons with the duo while Ash opted to self teach. We might stop later for lessons for Ash. Antigua is a charming city full of colonial buildings both restored and crumbling from the many earthquakes that have been centered in that area. Sundays meant no classes, so we took a cheap ($30 for everything but the horses) tour to Volcan Pacaya. Most of our group opted for horseback and so did we. We got to spend more time at the summit and scalded ourselves trying to get close to the lava for photos. The effect was surreal as a dense fog rolled in and blanketed the area making it glow slightly.
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