We recently rode the chicken bus from Antigua further into the Guatemalan highlands. Guatemala is full of these chicken buses - abandoned US school buses, painted in crazy bright colours, and so-named because you're basically allowed to bring anything you want onto them (eg bringing your chickens home from the market.)
In line with this liberal BYO live animal policy, chicken bus drivers make their daily bread by observing as few rules as possible, doing as many runs as possible, between as many towns as possible, with as many passengers as possible. Seats designed for two people regularly seat families of five, the aisles are crammed full of people, luggage, animals for all I know, and various other collateral. At one point there must have been nearly 60 people on a bus designed to seat 40. You climb in any way you can - front door, back door, through a window if it was possible, even on the roof. And combined with the constant, loud Marimba / generic Latin American pop / Reggaeton blasting through the bus, it really is quite an experience.
And then there's the speed. The faster the buses get from town to town, the more runs they can do, so the more money to be made - so we are talking high speed. The first rule of chicken bus driving appears to be that there are no rules to chicken bus driving. Passing another chicken bus on a blind hairpin bend? Cool. Hurtling at high speed through tiny cobble-stoned villages before screaming to a halt to cram in even more passengers? Even better. Rattling at speed across the centre line directly into oncoming traffic? He who diverts course first loses. And all this on perilous, winding, mountainous roads that make the Crown Range look like child's play.
As one friend ovserved, it's no wonder Guatemala is rubbish at Formula 1: all their best drivers are driving chicken buses.
It's loud and fast and cramped and totally insane and exhilarating and one of the funnest things I've done in this exciting, slightly mad country.
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