White Skinned Money Tree. Or Not.

Today I made my last mandatory trip into Guatemala City. It all started at 4:20am when Jim came into the room. He had slept in another room because he had to leave around 4am (or 4:20am) to get to San Salvador to meet a friend. He came into the room and took some of my money because he couldn't find his. The night before I had carefully figured out how much money I would need to get to and return from the city. Now I was Q. 20 (or just over $2) short of what I had planned. We didn't have many more Quetzales because we were leaving Guatemala, so I began my adventure with what I had and figured I would worry about getting home when the time came.

The chicken bus picked me up right outside my door, but five minutes out of town the bus broke down. Everyone boarded the next bus, which made it to the City, although the driver also stalled out at one point. Because I have white skin the taxi drivers think I am made of money, so they refused to take me all the way to the school. I refused to pay them all the money I had because I wanted to get back to Antigua when I was done. So one driver took me to a city bus station and told me what bus to take. I rode the bus for a bit and got off where the driver told me to. My orientation was messed up (well, I didn't really have any in the first place), so I asked for directions. I ended up taking another taxi to the school, a drive that took less than five minutes. Of course, I was charged an exuberant amount. Again, my white skin. All my adventures took about an hour-and-a-half, and I was and hour-and-fifteen minutes early. After sitting around for a while another kid showed up and we began talking, and behold! he lived in Antigua too!

After the test he gave me a ride back to Antigua. More correctly speaking, his driver gave me a ride back. This was a real blessing because the money I had remaining would have only gotten me partway to the bus station. I guess I need to work on my tan.

The kid who gave me a ride has lived in Guatemala his entire life, so he told me about the culture and dangers of Guatemala. To pass your driver's exam, you don't really have to practice. First, you bribe the instruction to let you pass. If you don't do that you will fail, no matter how wonderful of a driver you are. Second, you drive around a bit with a guy to show you know how to steer. You probably shouldn't get into an accident, but other than that it is insured you will pass. It is also very easy to buy a gun, and most people--at least people who have money/possessions they want to protect, carry a gun in their car.

I also saw the staircase where a head of a government official had been placed in some sort of protest about six months ago. Three government officials had been beheaded and their heads put in three different public locations with warnings written on their foreheads.

While riding I also discovered that McDonalds is to Guatemala City what Starbucks is to New York City. I counted three in the course of about five blocks, but we passed many more!