I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I’m going is what inspires me to travel it. – Rosalia de Castro
Tuesday, April 3, 2012 (DAY 30)
After working a steadily busy shift from 10am to 6pm, I’m free. Ready to travel the 5km and experience the small town of Poptun, Peten I climb into the fire engine red tuk tuk with Aldo and we are on our way. Not having the opportunity to explore the town when I first arrived fourteen days ago there is little conversation as I’m taking in all of the sights and sounds of this small community of just over 24,000 inhabitants. Our driver zips us around the northern end of the airstrip and I cannot help but laugh once again at the miniature air traffic control tower as we pass it. I am still surprised that there is no barbed wire, private property signs posted, or even a fence to keep individuals from walking across the street and onto the airstrip. The lack of security is somewhat baffling but then again when I see a group of people playing soccer and riding bicycles on the dirt where planes land I begin to realize this area seems more like a park or a playground than an airport. Unsure of where the supermarket is located I continue to enjoy our ride. Peering over to my right I notice a scooter passing us, normally this would not have even caused a second thought, except for the fact that a family of four was racing past us. All I can think about is how would the highway patrol handle observing such a situation. A small girl that appears to be five or six stands in the front between the legs of her father as his arms wrap around her grasping the handle bars, her mother sits behind the driver arms to her side and her older sister somehow finds space on the very back and looks to be at ease, as if each understands their designated seating position. They give me a look as if I am the uncanny image. No helmets for any of them, I cannot help but be amazed that there is not more traffic fatalities with how transportation lacks any type of safety regulations, but then again I think about how overregulated the laws in the States can be and wonder where the balance rests.
After working a steadily busy shift from 10am to 6pm, I’m free. Ready to travel the 5km and experience the small town of Poptun, Peten I climb into the fire engine red tuk tuk with Aldo and we are on our way. Not having the opportunity to explore the town when I first arrived fourteen days ago there is little conversation as I’m taking in all of the sights and sounds of this small community of just over 24,000 inhabitants. Our driver zips us around the northern end of the airstrip and I cannot help but laugh once again at the miniature air traffic control tower as we pass it. I am still surprised that there is no barbed wire, private property signs posted, or even a fence to keep individuals from walking across the street and onto the airstrip. The lack of security is somewhat baffling but then again when I see a group of people playing soccer and riding bicycles on the dirt where planes land I begin to realize this area seems more like a park or a playground than an airport. Unsure of where the supermarket is located I continue to enjoy our ride. Peering over to my right I notice a scooter passing us, normally this would not have even caused a second thought, except for the fact that a family of four was racing past us. All I can think about is how would the highway patrol handle observing such a situation. A small girl that appears to be five or six stands in the front between the legs of her father as his arms wrap around her grasping the handle bars, her mother sits behind the driver arms to her side and her older sister somehow finds space on the very back and looks to be at ease, as if each understands their designated seating position. They give me a look as if I am the uncanny image. No helmets for any of them, I cannot help but be amazed that there is not more traffic fatalities with how transportation lacks any type of safety regulations, but then again I think about how overregulated the laws in the States can be and wonder where the balance rests.
When we reach our final destination the supermarket has the typical guard with a shotgun held closely to his chest and gives us both a brief nod as we enter. After gathering our purchases it is time to play the negotiation game for the best price back to the Finca. Since my Spanish is still on the fringes of an introductory level I leave the haggling to Aldo. Fifteen minutes and six blocks later we have a driver. It is beginning to get dark as we climb in with our bags and head off in a different direction from our previous path. Seeing that Aldo is unconcerned with this as I am sure there is a variety of roads that lead back to the Finca, I sit back and enjoy the new scenery. Bouncing along as we near the airport, I notice that our new driver does not continue on the paved road but hurdles us through a makeshift ditch that has a variety of traffic flowing in both directions of this single lane dirt path, it must be rush hour. Bicycles and people on foot hurry by as another tuk tuk traveling in the opposite direction must wait while we cross since the narrow space is not wide enough to accommodate side-by-side crossings. Looking to my left then to my right, I realize we are about to cross the south side of the landing strip, in the dark. Not a single light illuminates the dirt and I can only imagine how horrific this would be if a plane was attempting to land quickly as people would be scattering and a stampede would easily ensue. The dark comedy of a massive Darwin Award would easily make the news back home, and due to my nonchalant and hasty driver I would easily be one of the casualties. I had no idea such an adventure would develop from a routine trip to the supermarket on a Tuesday evening.
RSS Feed
