Travel has taught me that some blessings are extremely well disguised, especially in Guatemala.
Tempering any expectations of a smooth trip from the highlands to the islands, before departure we watched a mechanic crawl under our bus with a hammer and some duct tape. So, Cathy and I bought some "emergency" beer for the road.
Not an hour into the journey, when the engine caught on fire and the bus filled with noxious fumes, we were already glad we had. Waiting in the rain for the rescue bus was easier to bear with beer, if only because it made the locals laugh. With us or at us, we didn't care.Later than sooner, the promised bus arrived, and we were finally back on the serpentine trail to Guatemala City. The next hour of the trip was remarkably hassle-free.
Then, traffic stopped dead. The sun went down, the driver turned off the bus, and we waited in the dark. Passengers began sharing food with hungry strangers, and I rationed my water. A few people gathered round to watch Cathy and me play Crazy Eights by the light of my head lamp; that's how bored they were.
We had no idea why we were stuck there, but we knew we'd missed our connection. We'd have to spend the night in the frighteningly dangerous and mostly filthy capital, if we ever got there. There was no remaining "emergency" beer, not even a working toilet. Our positive attitudes were positively tried.
Eventually, the driver announced the nature of the traffic jam. A mudslide had buried a major section of the road ahead and we were caught on this side of it. When we finally started moving again, on a single lane cleared by bulldozers, I saw the blessing in being off schedule:
Trapped on this side or that side of a mudslide, is a helluva lot better than trapped under one.
