the bus trip from Xela to Copan Ruinas, Honduras

First a note: I retract what I said earlier about the term "chickenbus" being in common use here. It's only used by gringos, to guatemalans, the so-called "chickenbuses," colourful former school buses, are just buses. The fancier, more comfortable Greyhound style buses are referred to as "direct" buses, as they make fewer stops and reach their destinations faster, but cost maybe 25% more. They're still cheap by our standards, for example I took direct buses for 11 hours from Xela to El Florida at the Honduras border, for a total of about CDN$11. I travelled the Xela - Guatemala city leg with a Danish student of the mountain school on her way to El Salvador. She's finishing her second long trip in Central America, totalling 9 months here, so seemed like a good person to interview about the ins and outs of travelling alone as a woman here. I've had this discussion with a few other women travellers as well, and will post my notes another time. In very short summary, the women I've talked to have had to get used to frequent verbal sexual harassment, but generally feel safe enough and have had a great time here. I transferred buses in Guatemala City, getting whisked to my next bus by a guy hoping for a tip and making it seem like my bus was about to leave. On the Guate - Chiquimula bus I sat next to a Chiquimula resident who was learning English and was happy for a chance to practice and ask questions, like why is it that you get "on" a bus or train, but "in" a car? Any ideas? He also taught me some Spanish slang, including uses of "onda," ie. "que onda?" - roughly, what's up? I arrived in Chiquimula at 5pm and would've called that a day because of the late hour, but my new friend talked to the folks at the Chiquimula bus station and assured me that all would be OK if I wanted to continue on to Copan tonight. It would require transferring at the border, but there was a hotel there if I missed the last bus there, and that all was "tranquilo" at the border village and in the town of Copan Ruinas. I watched a stunning sunset in the mountainous desert between Chiquimula and the border, where I arrived after dark at around 6:30pm. I got my passport stamped and indeed had missed the last bus to Copan Ruinas, but the border guard told me to talk to the police officer on the other side who could probably tell me how to get a ride with a "carrito" - little car. I'll probably get in trouble for the rest of this story, but it's interesting, so here goes. I walked across the Guatemala-Honduras border with a Honduran fellow who began to tell me his story, and spoke to the officer who gave us a name to ask for and pointed us towards a nearby house. On the porch of the house, about 8 people were gathered on the porch eating beans and tortillas, playing guitar, singing Spanish folk songs, and drinking beer. I was decided not to make the trip that night because the guitarist who I thought would be the driver didn't seem sober enough to be able to drive safely, but a few songs later a sober man entered in and waved us towards his truck. A few minutes later, there I was, riding in the back of a pickup into the Honduran night, with 2 strange men in front and 2 more in the back with me. Not exactly "by the book" I though, but I still felt it was going to be OK. My new acquaintance who I had walked across the border with, Jose, told me that he had been robbed in Monterrey, Mexico, and was trying to return to his home in Honduras but had no money left. Not only were his pockets empty, except for his ID card and a few centavos, but he had no bag, nothing with him but the clothes he wore. That really struck me, to be crossing the border with absolutely nothing. At about 9pm, the driver of the truck dropped us off at a hotel in Copan Ruinas which he assured us was good and that he knew the owners, and didn't charge us for the ride since he was going there anyways. The hotel had only one room left, a double. Jose struck me as genuine, so I offered to share my room with him for the night. He pointed out that he couldn't afford to share the cost, which I said was fine, and he very gratefully accepted. The owners of the hotel, a friendly older couple, became like parents and admonished me to be very careful with my belongings since I didn't know him, offered to store my valuables, and told me to knock on their door for anything. I didn't feel threatened by Jose, partly because of his gentle demeanor, partly because he had nothing with him and nowhere to conceal a weapon, and partly because I was so much bigger than him. It also occured to me that he was taking a much larger risk by travelling without money and potentially having to sleep in the streets, and by trusting me for the night. I slept well, both of us turning in around 8:30pm. Jose got up, put his clothes on and left at 5:30am. I offered him a bag of peanuts and some fruit which he graciously accepted, and as he was walking away I also offered him 50 lempiras, about CDN$3. He said "gracias, muy amable (very kind)" and left. I'm only sorry that I didn't give him more - it was early and I was still confused about the exchange rate. But that should be enough to get him at least close to home, which he said was 200km away. Through much of my short experience with Jose, I heard voices of caution warning me "what if he's dangerous," or "what if he's trying to rob you," but the voice that won me over was "but what if he's not?" The hotel owners later gave me some more information which they either picked up talking to him or inferred from his situation. He was trying to emigrate illegally to the united states, which costs $5000, but was robbed in Monterrey, northern Mexico, and had to turn back. Talk about broken dreams. I wish Jose good luck, and really hope he made it back home safely.