Disappearing Belizean Buses

After only one night in Belize, enough time to eat some nachos, have a beer, get a bus ticket, buy fruit from a stall - ´you´re not in Mexico now. We don´t use kilos´said a guy hanging round to explain everything is sold in numbers of fruit per Belizean dollar.

We have met up with an America couple, Erin and Nick, who decided like us to head inland during the stormy weather rather than go out to the cayes. We waited for the B$15 direct bus to Flores in Guatemala which was due to leave at 9.30am. Some confusion ensued when a bus to Flores turned up to depart at 9.30 but the guy we bought the ticket from told us it wasn´t ours, leaving us thinking how many buses can there be to the same town in a foreign country setting off at the same time.

It turned out that there were two competing companies and we had a ticket for Mundo Maya buses, not Linea Ordana. It was the latter that was setting off and out bags were being taken off again. Which was a bit of a shame giving that the ticket seller then popped up again to apologies that he had just been called to say the Mundo Maya bus had broken down and we should wait for the 2.30pm bus. Not being well-pleased with this we got a refund, tried to find out how far the LO bus would have got to see if it was worth catching it in a taxi. Another ticket shop said it would be too far out of town. I was edging towards getting to Guatemala by the ordinary buses when Georgia suggested this. Erin and Nick decided to come along too so we got a taxi to the bus terminal to try the next bus. This turned out to be a much better option, longer, cheaper at B$8 and on a proper bus with locals rather than an air-con coach cut off from the world and people. It also allowed us to have fun at the border towns getting a beating up old taxi (B$2) to the Belizean side which was reminsicent of the illegal taxi that we once got from a night at Undertwo and caught fire on the way to St Pancras Station.

We were immediately descended on on the Guatemalan side by taxi and collectivo touts while paying the border offical the unofficial, 20 Quetzal entry payment. Luckily, as we hadn´t changed money, Georgia´s 8-year old Quetzals we handed over still being current. We found out later that some were out of circulation and that might have been a bad move on the border. The offical never once took his eyes of the soap opera playing on the TV about 1 metre from him which was a contract to the USA electronic finger-printing and mugshot welcome. The touts buzzed around us with one particular attentive aide offering a collectivo for 50 quetzals each. However, someone else had let slip that a collective cost 22 so we played the game for a while, were introduced to a driver who could take us for 45 which dropped to 30 after we showed little interest getting a drink and catching our breath. A quick walk to the collective pick up point and the same van and driver we had been introduced to came by with half a van full, including a diminutive nun, and we got on board. When we eventually stopped opposite Flores we handed over 25 quetzals each - the proper price. Welcome to Guatemala.

Soon we were on the island town of Flores and in a hotel. And still it was raining.