The Great Escape

---

If anybody is checking google news everyday for tales of 2 drunken idiot tourists getting burned by looting mobs in Arequipa, I have either good or bad news for you. We escaped, and the worse injury we had to survive was sleepy eyes.

Our last night in Arerquipa, while all of our hotelmates took our idea and chartered a bus to get the hell out of Dodge, we drank. Seemed like a (choose your adjective madlibs style here) idea at ther time, but maybe it was actually (opposite adjective as last). Hmmm. Pisco Sours or escaping a city on lockdown...you see the conundrum.

Luckily we were so inebriated that we passed out by 10 PM. We wake up at 5:17 AM and hope we can slip the roadblocks while the blockaders sleep it off. Taxi to the busstation, and lo and behold, the ghetto companies are gonna try a bustout at 7. Taxi back to hotel for bags, "Apurate, por favor" we shouted at the driver, hoping it meant hurry up and not take the scenic route.

Long and the short of it is we caught the bus, and relaxed as we left the roadblocked city behind. Easy, cheesy. Untill we hit more roadblocks. The bus stopped, the rioters started doing what rioters do...we couln´t decide if we should be in usual riot whore moder or just hide, when the driver started pulling away to safety, making our decision easier. Go with the bus. We excitedly speculated on where we were heading when suddenly we realized we were back at the bus station we started at. Drat.

The bus station was a refugee camp for lost gringos. Luckily for them, we were American, so as is usually the case, we took the worlds burdens on our hands. An even ghettoier bus company was found, a more ridiculous route was chosen, and a sum closer to blackmail was agreed upon. We were on our way again.

Backstreets and alleyways were negotiated and voila, there we were at the very last intersection before the city ended. Yup, those protesters were no fools, thats where we were blocked this time. The demand that all tourists get off the bus was met by skepticism by Lycia and I, who have seen way too many movies. Luckily, they loved us and would let us pass.

No way this story can end so easily. Someone then imagined that the bus driver threw a rock at a woman who then dropped her baby. Or they didn´t like his shirt color. Who knows. But now, we could pass, they said, if it was any other driver on this planet driving...but not with ours. Bottles were held mencingly by adorable 14 year olds, tires were unsuccessfully lit on fire and negotiations broke down. I tried to call George Bush but got a busy signal at the white house. Back in the bus we went.

OK, briefly, if you have ever taken the dusty backroads of a third world countries sneaky way to the garbage dump, that is how we drove. Except when we had to get off the bus and hike, as the passengers were too scared that the bus would flip on the moped sized roads. Then we were free to Copacabana and...

I giggle as I write this...

Lake Titicaca. Yeah, its real. I always figured a totally cool 7th grader wrote that in the map to0 amke us all laugh, bur here we are. Lycia and i hiked at least 10 miles yesterday past donkeys, llamas, pigs, sheep and the mostest cutest cheek squeezable indian senior citizens and kids. Interstingly, the middle aged folks left us emotionally un moved. We stayed in a hotel for 5 bucks with windows on all sides, views of sunrise and sunset and a toilet only a bucket could flush.

When we woke up this morning a cow was staring at me. I said, "who you looking at, bastard?¨ Half hour later when we were hiking out, the entire family of 8 was gathered as they slit his throat, the blood staining the dirt. I don´t think it was related to me, but who knows, we can always hope. It was a poor family with only a cow and a donkey, so if they killed it for insulting me I am highly honored.

We want a donkey. They are cool. Time to fix the hurricane ravaged back fence. OK pals, we are out and having an awesome time, now please someone contact us to watch our cats. Quick. Thanks.

---