Calculating my options and the risks…

January 22, 2012:  “Readers have reported armed assaults on the night bus between Sao Luis and Belem, so consider flying as an alternative” my travel book states.  Doing some more research into it on the internet, I found blogs and travel site postings about the slew of armed robberies that take place on this road - one driver even claimed to be robbed 6 times.  It would be nice if you could rent a gun at the bus station when traveling through zones such as these.  Calculating my options including the risks and rewards of each…I took my chances last night and chose the night bus.

Between 1:00am to 4:00am in the darkness of the morning, where nothing man made existed except for the road we were on, I was awaken by the bus sharply swerving on and off the pavement.  Coming to an abrupt stop, I looked out the window but I was unable to see anything.  At first I thought that perhaps someone was lying in the road or we hit someone, but then it all “clicked” - we were being set up by bandits to get the bus to stop.  I am not sure how many brain cells where loosely floating around in the bus drivers head and why he ever stopped or ran outside the bus in an area that is so prone to armed assaults.

Happily, I can say that there was nobody with guns, machetes or spears that entered our bus - perhaps just a few mosquitoes.  Maybe I should stay off the movies for a while and limit my internet searches to strictly porn.  When we came rolling into Belem, unscathed, a smile cracked along my face as we passed the wooden huts along the road and crossed the small rivers that went under the highway…I made it to the Amazon, but even better…the Amazon River.

Feet with no Borders

January 12, 2012:  After all the hours that I logged on various land shuttles that I have taken from one distant station to the other, my trip to Jerioacoara was by far the most unusual one.  At one point, I thought that I was being filmed by a Brazilian TV show, but with nobody approaching to tell me I was set up, I just figured that I was lucky to have front row entertainment.

Moments after taking my seat in the bus, I overheard the conductor having a “tough man talk” with the guy behind me, thinking that perhaps he was impaired due to something he consumed or mentally challenged.

Not even 20 minutes after departing the bus station, a foot came thru the space along the window next to my face and another foot plopped on me from above, as he chatted away on his phone.  From my gentle requests, shakes, squeezes and pushes to move his feet….nothing seemed to faze this man’s conversation on the phone - until I rotated his foot to the point it resembled the neck of an owl.

This was my first of many interactions with the man throughout the night - all dealing with his feet that seemed to have no borders.  At one point he became such a disturbance that the conductor eventually came up from the depths of the bus to the second floor to sit with him for a while before going back down to keep the driver awake.

When sleeping, I was abruptly awaken with the man now towering over me, possessed and speaking in tongues as he then tried to scale my chair coming over the top of me.  I was able to push him back into his chair as I could not stop think how unbelievable this was.  When he was done climbing my seat he obviously wasn’t done making this an unforgettable experience for me.  He now showed his great ability to pull off long draw out world record breaking farts laughing as a child after each and every wet one.  This had almost the entire bus laughing - encouraging the man in his 40’s to continue his childhood antics. 

Eventually the conductor said it was too much and came up to take the man down to the first floor of the bus to sit with him and the driver.  The harmless man looked so sad, as if he was being sent off to detention.  During this whole trip, I could not get the smile off my face on what was going on. What are the odds of me ever getting a more entertaining bus ride?

Traveling to Hell by bus? if so, bring a jacket.

December 15, 2011:  I had a decent game of human pinball going on this morning as I bounced from the right to left side of the bus, attempting to get photos of Chapada dos Diamontes National Park while passing it at over 110+ km per hour.  There were so many nice rock formations and lush green foliage that covered hill after hill, it excites me that I will be coming back here in a few short days to explore it more fully.

The farther I traveled into the Brazilian interior the past few weeks, the more I noticed that the leg room on the buses have been steadily decreasing.  Surely I am not getting taller, so I am wondering if it is because the people are getting shorter or if the bus companies are simply trying to fit an extra row of seats in.
 
This 27 hour bus ride from Perinopolis to Salvador was another trip to strengthen my thoughts about why a conductor of a bus keeps the interior temperature so brutally cold.  When you no longer feel your hands and the bitter air in the cabin is clouding your thoughts, you’re obviously not going to have as much energy to be unruly when you are on the borderline of suffering from hypothermia. 

Mental note #273:  Bring jacket, hat and gloves for all future bus travel…no matter if I am traveling to the equator or to even Hell itself - the ride there would also be just as cold.

Perhaps driving a local bus in not his true calling

December 5, 2011:  When you have so much grass and open areas between the buildings, this gives the public bus drivers the opportunity to get up to great speeds.  Today I was showed how a full-sized Mercedes Benz bus could take a corner at high speeds without flipping.  The angle that the bus reached was beyond normal…thinking that we were going to flip as I grabbed onto the bar and instinctively got into a wider stance as the people in the aisles became a human wave going to one side of the bus grabbing what they could to prevent a human bus pile.  Within this spilt second or two or three…I had my whole emergency plan worked out when I thought the bus was going over.

My smile was big as I scanned the bus after successfully taking the curve, observing the others reactions to see if that was a normal turn or an extraordinary turn. They too were smiling looking around in amazement with the buses performance and driving skills of the mad man behind the wheel.  Even the hardened military boys in their uniforms that I thought might not be able to smile, cracked a big smile.

I think there are bus races somewhere in this world…perhaps driving a local bus in not the true calling for this man.

I thanked God today for what I don’t have…

December 2, 2011:  Today I noted a pattern that I don’t seem to be thanking God enough for everything that I don’t have.  Instead I seem to be thanking him for what I do have, such as good health, a wonderful family, millions of pesos and other things.  So today I thanked God for my lagging sense of smell. 

I spent 20 hours on a bus to Brasilia that had a toilet that was either filled to the brim or hasn’t been emptied for days.  Only the women seemed to be the upset about it as the men just casually sat back letting them do the complaining.  This is could be because woman at a reproductive age are scientifically better than men at identifying specific smells in much lower concentrations…in this case being fecal matter.

Stopping at the bus company’s repair shop, a man entered the bus that had about half his butt crack exposed.  This had me thinking that he must have been a plumber, though I don’t know if he knew much about plumbing.  He was more like a magician as he waved the magic bottle of deodorizer spreading over half of it around the bus and walah – the smell magically disappeared for…20 minutes.

The Great Heist!

November 25, 2011:  Getting on my last bus of the 17+ hour journey to Cuiaba from Bonito, I pulled out my Kindle to study some Spanish…but, I then I decided to get some sleep instead.  After putting my Kindle under my jacket so nobody could take it out of my hands when I slept, I prepared my area to sleep.

Checking the under the seats there was about a 1.5 inch gap between the foot rest and  the floor of the people behind me, to prevent any wandering hands from entering my backpack.  This was good since it meant that I didn’t have to sleep with my all my electronic equipment on my lap, assuring a better night sleep.  I still slide a shoulder strap around my leg, dropped down the other leg ramp on the empty seat next to me AND I put my leg down on the side of my leg ramp to block side entry. 

All of this is not done due to paranoia, but it is to counter what happened to other backpackers and to reduce the odds of it happening to me.  South America is a war zone between tourists and thieves…we are the pray and unfortunately can easily be identified.

What happened next is still not very clear but this is what I can remember.  In the middle of the night, I had an awaken dream that someone was hovering over me and put something on my skin to put me into a deeper sleep.  I was so tired I could barely open my eyes and was unable to focus.  Wanting to come out of this middle point between sleeping and being awake, I couldn’t.  My body felt like every part weighed an unbelievable amount.  I felt so exhausted that I just wanted to go to back sleep but was also trying to fight it feeling that I was being robbed.  Not able to fight it any longer I fell back into a deep sleep.

Waking up in the morning, there was a beautiful sunrise.  Writing off what happened last night as a strange dream; I pulled my backpack out from under my seat to grab my camera I noticed my pack was on an angle and not directly underneath me.  With my strap still around my leg I assumed that I picked up my leg during the night.  Seeing that my bag was unzipped and after further inspection, my camera case was open - wondering if I left it open last night and it slide out of my backpack onto the floor.  I began to look under the seats for a loose camera I didn’t see it anywhere. 

After my thorough investigation…I accepted that I was stealthfully robbed from the seat behind me which was now empty.  The thief must have tried to fit it between the 1.5 inch crack while in its case, but due to it not fitting, they opened it up in complete darkness and then pulled it out.  They also got their hands on my international adapter to charge my electronics. 

I could only falsely smile since there was a lot more they could have stolen such as my SLR camera, computer and other items, but fortunately they were too big to fit through the cracks.  I still have 2 more cameras, but it is inconvenient and frustrating that I gave them an opportunity to steal my good midsized camera.  I even sewed some attachment on my backpack which 97% of the time, I have it locked.  But the day I didn’t do it…it happens.  They were good at what they do so in a way they deserved it because I feel I am also good as for keeping my equipment secure.

As for my strange dream…I thought about it a little more.  Could I have been drugged?  If so, why wouldn’t they have taken everything, not just what Mr. Tweezer hands could pull from under my seat?  Thus, I have decided that my awaken dream as just that.  I feel stupid for what I had happen, but I am sure there will be other stupid moments in my life.

Putain!

A required shower before entry

October 25, 2011:  While queuing up on the side of the bus heading to the former colonial mining town of Ouro Preto, I noticed something that was quite concerning.  There was a man that had such a wretched odor that was not seeping from his pores, but more like stuck in his pores waiting to get onto the bus.  He smelled as if he might have been on a shower strike that past month – maybe two.  There are showers in most of the bus stations here in Brazil so it would have been nice if he bathed before putting on his fresh clean clothes – as I might be sitting next to him for the next 11.5 hours.

Occupying my seat there was nobody next to me…yet.  Calculating the number of seats and the number of obvious couples and families…I had a strong possibility that he was going to be my neighbor.  “Oh…nooooooooooo,” I thought.  I can just see his ripeness clinging to me for the next few days and here I too just put on fresh clean clothes.
 
As he entered the bus, he began his way down the aisle passing empty seat after empty seat looking at his ticket.  Closer and closer he came…each step taken was that of a snail being filmed in slow motion sliding slowly across aisle.  Approaching my seat he pauses, looking up at the seat numbers.  He was educated enough to thankfully match numbers as his ticket and the open seat next to me was not a match!

That was so close…so - so close as he sat two rows behind me next to a different sorry son-of-a-snitch.  I could still smell his ripeness…but at this distance, the odor will be somewhat bearable after my noises desensitizes.  It would be a wonderful policy at the bus terminal that would require you to shower before entering a bus, similar to how you are required to shower before entering a public pool.

Round and Round the bus goes…

July 7th, 2011: Round and round the bus goes, when we will stop and become legal nobody knows! A simple one hour bus ride to cross the border back into Argentina became a five hour bus ride. Asking 2 times did not put a spark in our brain-dead drivers mind as we went flying by immigration out of Paraguay and into Brazil. After all of the confusion settled, we were too far into Brazil to just get off the bus and jump on another one.

Reaching the Argentina border, we were then placed onto a bus going back to Paraguay. Finally arriving back in Paraguay, we had our passports quickly stamped and jumped on a different bus…again, heading for our original destination, Puerto Iguazu – home of Iguazu Falls.

From now on, I will have to sit closer to the driver so I can conveniently remind him every 5 minutes, until he cannot wait to kick me off the bus.

Jumped out of a moving bus with Nitros

July 16, 2011: After seeing the 2nd largest dam in the world outside Ciudad del Este, I was on the hunt for the 2nd largest dam chicken in the city, Ciudad del Esta. Since Paraguay is the second most poorest country in South America, it seems that economically challenged countries naturally contain plenty of economical roadside rotisserie chicken restaurants. They sort of complement each other. I will turn Colonel Sanders and his mutated beasts at Kentucky Fried Chicken down any day for some local home grown chicken – without the hormones.

For some odd reason, when you desire something…it is plentiful. But, when it is time to act on your desires…you can’t find it. Walking everywhere in this town, I found nothing but a place with something that resembled a dried shriveled granny chicken.

Pretty much giving up, on the bus back to my hotel, I noticed a few rows of chickens speared horizontally. Quickly telling Cecile, we somewhat quickly decided to exit the moving bus…but I did so without telling the driver. Dropping someone off moments prior…I didn’t want to bother the driver to have him stop again, so I happened to make it out the door in stunt man fashion. It seemed as if the driver just pushed the Nitrous Oxide button under his dash prior to me taking my last step off bus. I somehow landed in a forced run, inches from some raised cement pylons - potentially painful raised cement pylons. Cecile was smart enough to wait for our driver to stop.

Mental Note: Don’t jump out of a moving bus…that has Nitrous Oxide.

I am thankful for not having a sense of smell

November 27th, 2010: My bus ride to the town of San Agustin del Valle Fertil to visit a couple of National Parks to see more truly colorful rocks and canyons turned out to not be, just a boring bus ride. There was plenty of unexpected entertainment seeing a 9 year or old boy about 7 rows in front of me leaning over his chair and expel about a few liters of vomit on the floor.

The people across the aisle handed the mom some toilet paper for the boys face but as for the vomit…it just sat there on the floor, untouched for the remaining 3 hours of our bus journey. It was extremely fluid as it would go up and down the aisle…as I was sitting there with a big smile. Today I was happy that I was at the back of the bus, next to the typical bad located seats besides the toilets and even happier that my nose is not very functional…except to breath.

18 hour shift…and no pay

October 11th, 2010: The typical small unpaid employees of the South American bus system filled my bus on my 18 hour trip back to La Paz. Sometimes I go on murderous rampages killing them…squashing them with my fingers and for the more meaty ones I will pull any random worthless pieces of paper that somehow fill my pockets between washings…sometimes surprising me on how long I...umm…carried the paper.

But today, I decided to not be the executioner and let these cockroaches live as long as they stayed on the windows and walls. To not encourage them to work around me, I limited my food intake keeping them from even needing to be near me hoping they would clean up the crumbs around someone else and the buffet they unintentionally laid out for them.

Pimp my Bus

July 21, 2010: I feel that the bus I was on yesterday to Lima was the end product of MTV’s silly show…Pimp my Ride. But this case it was, Pimp my Bus. It had 2 toilets, seatbelts, an overhead light that worked, a button to push if I wanted service, Wifi and even a computer with a printer. They had a safety video showing the exits and what to do in case of an emergency and a movie with John Travolta who was dubbed but had English subtitles – a rarity. Another odd rarity was that my two bus drivers that shared responsibilities somehow didn’t seem like addicts to some sort of illegal stimulants. Lunch was an added treat for it was hot and served with sturdy plastic utensils. The bus seemed to have everything I always wanted or dreamt about a bus having but it was lacking one minor thing...seats that converted to life jackets in case we went off the road into a large puddle or body of water.

My experience was so similar to an airplane, it assisted me in directed my mind right to the toilet making me think how nice it would be to join the 5 foot high club. Forget the mile high club – that is so 90’s…anyhow, FAA regulations has made this almost impossible to perform without getting interrupted and potentially becoming a candidate to getting mace to your face or even worse...your exposed “parts”. It doesn’t matter though, since I am traveling alone…no matter how hard I could have tried, this obstacle was unlikely to be overcome in such a short period of time.

Rolling into Lima gave me flashbacks of rolling into Los Angeles, California. The red lights extended beyond my vision. The traffic here is unbelievable…unbelievably bad. Remember that for every minus there is a plus and the pluses here are big pluses because today was my day to capitalize on these pluses – actually yesterday night I capitalized on my first plus and had KFC. My second plus was McDonalds and the third one was Starbucks. So…nice.

I know I brought this up before but I cannot believe how much joy I get when walking into these large international fast food establishments – my smile today extended from ear to ear, looking like that clown Ronald. It really is not because of the success of some of these Northern American companies…it is because walking into one of these places really does takes me home…in my mind. I am sure it is the same for people here in Peru and anywhere else in the world that is traveling internationally who perhaps gets a little homesick and would like some sort of food that reminds them of home without having to go home. It is not anymore just a place people from the US grow up on…it is also a place that people from around the world grew up on.

Being on the pimped out bus where I was served some good food to eating at all of these fast food places...it is going to be difficult going back to eating mostly food from the street vendors - where it is common to find multiple hairs in one meal with some of them unfortunately…being curly.

You can really see a lot from a window

June 18th, 2010: Wow…as always, I prefer taking a bus during the day and today’s ride enforced this. Even though I don’t save on accommodations as I would on the night bus, I treat the day bus as if I was an immobile senor on a world tour looking through the window…and truthfully, it is not all that bad - if you can keep your eyes open long enough.

On the bus today I saw some amazing contraptions to sell guava (I think), these giant disgustingly healthy green bean looking things looking things genetically altered to grow 1,000,000 times its normal size. The 15 or 20 women selling them were standing there outside the bus were looking as if they were going to lynch someone with a smile. They were all holding a long wooden stick practically twice the height of them with a plastic container on the end in which some guava was strapped to so that the 4 foot tall grown women and 3 foot tall teenagers can lift it up to the double-decker bus windows with the plastic container to conveniently drop your payment in.

The terrain in this area is so flat and so dry with such large cracks in the soil that you could reach your arm into or happily lose an annoying girlfriends miniature dog. If you are lucky enough you could twist your ankle in one of the cracks and perhaps get an opportunity to sue someone, “North American Style.” But this is South America, so I don’t think it would get too far in a court of law.

I seem to be drawn to flat desserts…when there is no or very little greenery, just the multiple shades of browns and grays of sand or dirt. If you took the state of Iowa and tore out every living thing and all there was left was some dirt and a few scrubby bushes to catch some of the blowing garbage…you would have a good idea what Northwestern Peru looks like. It is amazing that so many people live out here in this unworkable land with the houses made out of scraps whether it is made out of bricks, manufactured wood or wooden sticks found by the characters from the book that stars three little pigs.

You can really see a lot from a window – all sorts of windows…cars, buses, planes, trains, homes and hotels. You just need to open those eyes and look.

Seat #13

December 2, 2009: Handing over my 1000 pound backpack to the conductor at the bus station to place underneath the coach, I was issued a receipt for my baggage, making my way to seat #13 as I comfortably sat down, pulling out my book and iPod awaiting my 10 hour journey to small town of El Banco, Colombia. I was extremely happy to finally get the opportunity to truly relax, since I arrived at the bus station 8 hours ago. It is not like I enjoy hanging around bus station for extended periods of time, I just decided that there was no reason for me to leave the station after an 18 hour bus ride to a town I have already been to. In addition to this, the first time I was here I was taken advantage of by an old crusty mischievous man in yellow automobile who was soliciting his services. Even if I did want to spend the night, I didn’t even remember the proper name of where I stayed except for the name I gave it…the Drug House - it was better that I didn’t leave the bus station.

Shortly after sitting down, I realized that someone else was issued a ticket for the same seat. A woman asked me if I could sit in her seat (my misinterpreted translation) so that her kids can sit together. Not minding where I sat since I already had an aisle seat, I happily agreed. The bus continued to fill up as the people were pilling on, soon to find out I was occupying a seat that belonged to someone else. Not understanding what was going on and to avoid playing a late night game of musical chairs, I waved for the conductor as he came down the aisle to see what the issue was. The issue was swiftly resolved as I was…kicked off the bus before it even left. Everyone seemed to be staring at me as I did the walk of shame down the aisle as I made my way toward the door. What a horrible time to find out that I waited at the bus station for 8 hours to discover that I somehow bought a ticket that was to leave tomorrow night at 10pm, not tonight.

Getting off the bus that had no more space, I was a bit frustrated since this company has only one bus a night that leaves for this destination…meaning that I might have to get a room for the night - defeating the whole purpose on why I was at the station the entire day. Quickly I made it up to the ticket counter as I successfully faked a smile informing the man who previously sold me the ticket on what happened. He tried to issue me a ticket on the full bus - not surprised of the expression that overtook his face. Having a whispering match between himself and his manager, they seemed to have an answer. Quickly they gave me my money back as the manager walked me over to the next ticket counter to a company that also transports people to El Banco, which thankfully happened to have some available seats.

When the ticket was placed in my hands for a bus that left in 20 minutes, I was able to take a deep breath -that was immediately lost as soon as I realized something important…I forgot my backpack in the luggage compartment on the bus that should have left 8 minutes ago. Painfully sprinting (another story) down 3 flights of stairs I made it to the security gate seeing my ex-bus through the glass window with its headlights on. Trying to clear security, the man wouldn’t let me through the exit point nor would the ticket agent let me through the entrance point since my bus that I just bought a ticket for has not yet arrived. My mind went blank forgetting how to say anything in Spanish, reverting to pointing and making silly shapes with my hands. I did not know the terminology to explain what happened, nor did I have the time to pull out my dictionary and look it up. Managing to speak some hard core Spanglish very quickly, I showed the woman a tiny crinkled piece of paper that slightly resembled a receipt for my baggage on a different bus. She kept shaking her head left and right when I needed it to go up and down. Eventually she let me through not knowing if she knew what I was saying or just saw the panic on my face. Clearing the gate I ran down the loading area, dodging porters and boxes that occupied my path to my bus that was slowing backing up. Hitting the front windshield, the driver stopped the rotating wheels and looked at me as if I was crazy. Showing him my receipt and pointing down he seemed to realize what was taking place as a smile came across his face.

Pulling out my luggage from the depth of the bus, I would not look up at the passengers in the window, too embarrassed on what just happened as the sweat poured from my face with my heart about to rip out of my chest and run away. Still in a daze, I could not help to think of my initial hesitation when I received my ticket for 13…seat #13.