Smells, searches and sanity

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Through the Atacama Desert where the Nothing grows higher than the double decker bus! And as always, I was blessed with the curse of the snorer!!

I honestly believe I did something wrong in my previous life to always end up with the snoring ones! Since high school days of sharing a room with someone, including some really gorgeous girls, they all seem to snore! I attract them, boarding school, tubes, ski trips, hostel rooms, planes, spot me; spot the snorer next door! I was very well behaved and only did the “beeeeg, pretending to be asleep, huge arm/elbow roll over” once and the snorer next to me on the seat woke up, luckily he got off at the next stop next in the middle of the double decker nothingness!

The 28 hour bus ride from Santiago through the desert to Arica was actually pretty pleasant, except for the roadworks, which delayed us by an additional 2hours. The Pan Americana highway runs all the way next to the coast, which is really nice, gives you some amazing views of the ocean and you lose a view hours just starting at the scenery.

At last I’m in Arica, arriving just before midnight, get a taxi that doesn’t end up robbing me, into a huge Oliver Twist style dorm room, and guess what; another snorer! After two solids nights of barely sleeping, my sense of humour is at an all-time low, this time however, I’m not alone, the one guy next to me wakes up going: “Does that guy not have f’ing nostrils!!” I was hysterical and gave up around 5am hunting for coffee. Way too early for South America, life here only starts around 10am.

From Arica you catch an old timer train with exactly one wagon, across the border into Tacna, Southern Peru. This is as desert, deserted and weird as these places come. I was so not super keen to spend any time in either of these for a number of reasons. One being, my imagination was already writing the plot of another psychopathic movie plot, the mind is a scaring thing sometimes. Never let it wonder outside alone for too long…

This train is old man, so are the occupants; I think I was the youngest by about 25years! The information pamphlet says it leaves at 10am, being obsessively early I pitched up just before 9am, nervous I don’t get a ticket, because it only runs once a day. The guy was busy closing the gate as I arrived!!! No, they’re leaving now!

It’s only 60km from Arica to Tacna, but it takes 90mintues on that old, rattling thing! That thing is a train wreck waiting to happen…
Getting to Tacna, things are not looking up. Another weird, lost, forgotten town, all I could think about was a bus ticket out of there to Arequipa!
I found my way, eventually, to the bus station and being the absolute cheapskate that I am (ask my brother) I buy the cheapest ticket I could get, a whole S20 (R60) for a 6-hour bus ride. I figure, how bad it could be! Hah!

Before the bus even leaves, these women start pilling (not putting, pilling) on clothes on themselves! Binding it around their middles, forcing it over their legs, arms and everywhere else. It was scorching hot, 30degrees minimum. I was fascinated! Those big, old plastic type bags from your child hood, are full of everything you can dream of, but mostly long pyjamas?! I think they call it flanny, not satin, that thick type stuff, with sheep, clouds and bears on, I couldn’t believe my eyes, by then it dawned; you missed the tourist bus, honey.

My big bag and back pack got searched no less than 3 times, fully searched, half of Peru knows what my um, shorts look like! First time was at the dodgy train station, second time was, again in the middle of nowhere (apologies for the over use, but honestly, there is no better way to put it) let me try it in Afrikaans; die F OL groei SOO hoog (you have to indicate with your arm above your head here for effect).

The third time my bag was searched we at least stopped at an
official looking place. This however, was scary, there were probably 6 or 7 policemen storming this bus, they confiscated a lot of the pyjamas and women were crying and screaming. It was really unpleasant and they keep the bus on one side of a huge fence and us, "die gespuis" on the other side. They police were intimidating and unfriendly and being from Joburg, I think we aren’t nearly as paranoid as other nations, but I started wondering about bribes, corrupt police, all those things other travellers and guide books warn you about.

Every time I thought the day couldn’t get any weirder, some local would get up, knock on the driver’s window (busses here have a door between the driver and passengers, for good damn reason if you ask me) and he would stop!!! Randomly, where I couldn’t see a thing, except for sands and graves (remind me to tell you about the graves). There is no way I could explain the deserted places these people stay! No way, but what was so sad to me was, these people are really old. And Peruvians have a very ‘hard’ look on their faces, it looks like the hand of cards these people got dealt, was not the straight flush type.

Oh and it only took me about 6 hours to figure out what THAT smell was! It was damn potato! Heavens, they fry it, stir it, bake it, boil it, eat it raw, as long as it’s potato and has some brown/yellowish sauce effect on it, it’s going down baby!

That bus ride, which turned into an 8 hour ride and not 6 as it was supposed to (keep in mind it’s only about 320km) was the first time I started doubting my own sanity. Considering I’ve been here almost a month, I guess, it is perfectly normal but it was the first time that I really wished I had someone with me, the first time my confidence waivered and it was really the first time that I started doubting my own decision. ..

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