This boy is dirtier than the engine that's wrapped around him, in the chaotic outdoor bus terminal in Xela (pronounced SHAYla) which is easier to say than Quetzaltenango.
I needed to stay overnight in this city because I wouldn't have been able to cross the border before dark.
These girls gave me directions from the terminal to the local bus stop. Each one suggested a different route but they agreed that it was two blocks away, instead of the half-mile that I remembered from last year.
I decided to take a taxi to the hostel but the first driver gave a price of Q30 (quetzales). I said no, because I always argue the first price, which prompted him to immediately lower it to Q25. My reply was Q20, but he said no so I walked on even though I realized the price was actually Q25. This is the driver I connected with.
A poor copy of the Parthenon was worthy of a quick picture, just to make sure that I wasn't hallucinating.