ANTIGUA, GUATEMALA - I love the little surprises that come with travel. You know, the kinds where you turn a corner and see a street artist performing, a small neighborhood festival in action, or you walk in to the middle of an angry protest in full swing with police in full riot gear. Yes, that happened in Paris. And then there was the day I came across streets covered in flowers and people in purple robes in the small colonial town in Guatemala. That, without a doubt, is one of my favorite travel surprises.

I was teaching at a private bilingual school just outside of Guatemala City and on the weekends I liked to head over to Antiqua, a charming, little colonial village outside the city.

I had a regular place that I liked to stay at that was dirt cheap. It was very basic, just a single bed and bathroom, but it was secure, and over time I had come to know the owners and they me. A lot of young people would stay there long term when attending the local Spanish language school, so I would often see someone I recognized on return visits.

I stuffed my backpack with a few things that I would need for the weekend and left my apartment for a short walk to catch the chicken bus. 

The bus was filled with locals who had come into the city on business and were headed home to towns and villages on the outskirts of the city.

Large plaid plastic bags and bundles wrapped in plastic or cloth and tied with string where carried on board and shoved wherever one could find space.

The seats were metal and when we would hit rough road there was always a slide and a bump that could leave a good sized bruise on the backside. Passengers held onto poles, the backs of seats and each other as we raced down the road, around curves and out of town.

The chickens that were being transported loudly expressed their displeasure with the driver’s skills, as a young man made his way through the packed aisle, pushing between people and climbing over feet and market bags. Hand reaching out, he called for the fare to be paid. He pushed and shoved until he had reached the back of the bus with all fares in hand. He then turned around, making his way back to the front, as he gave change to passengers who didn’t have the exact fare. I was always amazed not only at his skill of maneuvering the crowded bus, but also how well he remembered who was expecting change and exactly how much.

At each stop, one or two passengers would push through the crowd to get off and a few more would cram on. Think sardines in a can, with a bunch of chickens and plastic bundles, and you have a general idea. Windows were wide open which invited dust from the dry roads to enter. I always enjoyed this ride. Always.

The flute player plays music while the other four men climb to the top of the 30 meter pole and position themselves on a narrow platform.

After safely positioned, the voladores rotate the platform in order to wrap the rope around the top of the pole, as if a spool.