As you have all flown I will by pass an in-depth account of crowded planes and airports, streams of people flowing as if each one was some how mysteriously connected to the next. That banter of escalators, feet tapping in time, choreographed movement to the left, the right and then a pirouette. Who’s directing this thing anyhow? Well I arrived at my Hostel in Guatemala City as smoothly and comfortably as possible.
The next day lined up with classic travel style. I was walking out the door to meet our family friend June at the airport and then take a cab to the bus station for the 6-hour bus trip to Rio Dulce. The phone at the hostel rang and it was for me. A friend from Rio Dulce was staying in a hotel less then a block away. He was headed back to Rio Dulce and would be happy to give June and I a ride. We picked June up and started through the city.
Today was an annual motorcycle rally. 4 to 5000 motorcyclists ride through the mountains to a town with a statue of a black Christ. People come from all over Central America for this ride. We were backed up in traffic at an on ramp weighting for our window. After a half hour the on ramp began to move we were in the middle of hundreds of motorcyclists caravanning down the windy interstate. The car we were in had lights and sirens, so of coarse they had to be blaring noise and flashing lights for most of our 2-hour caravan. Nonetheless it was a joy and we made it safely to Rio Dulce and warm hugs from the family.
