The Chicken Bus Lullaby

Four hour bus rides can seem long. Especially when they actually end up being six hour bus rides. Because there is no direct route anywhere, here in Guatemala.

Sometimes all you want to do is sleep. You caught the 5:30 a.m. bus and the wind is blowing in through the window, making your eyes even more tired, but each time you begin to drift off to sleep you have to catch your head before it accidentally falls on the shoulder of the man sitting next to you. And each time the bus rounds a corner you must grip the seat in front of you with all of your strength so that you aren't hurled into the aisle, because you are currently resting half a butt cheek on the school bus seat originally meant for two petite children's bottoms, not the three full-grown adults who now sit squished against each other.

At each stop, more people pile on the bus. Soon, in addition to sitting three per seat, there are people standing in the aisle. It begins to rain, and immediately all of the windows are shut. The air in the bus is now stagnant. A man with a good sized gut squeezes into the aisle next to you. His back is pressed against the side of your face; you relax your neck and let your head rest. A women moves into the space in front of him, her long, curly, sweet-smelling hair brushing your face. It covers the body odor that hangs in the air.

It isn't long before the gentle rocking of the bus, the warm cushion supporting your head, and the sweet smell of lavender shampoo lull you off to sleep.