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Published: August 31st 2007
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Need A Ride?
just call "Dodgy Cabs" We don´t always make it there in one piece, but our fares are cheap It was time to leave Ecuador and enter Peru, across what the Lonely Planet guide calls “South America´s worst border crossing”. One of the problems is the border guards charging you an exit or entry fee which doesn´t exist. The simple solution is to ask for a receipt. Suddenly you will get through without any charge! But the trickiest and most ridiculous thing is the oficial exit requirements from Ecuador.In an ideal world, a border crossing goes like this:
1. Leave Ecuador, get an exit stamp
2. Enter Peru, get an entry stamp
Simple,yes? But for Ecuador you also need to fill out a “T-3 Immigration” card when you leave the country. Common sense would have these available at the border. But noooooooo, that would be far too easy. You can only get this form at an immigration office which three kilometres BEFORE the border, in the middle of nowhere. Many travellers book a bus from Ecuador into Peru, then get turned away at the border because they don´t have the T-3 Immigration card. Some buses will actually stop at the immigration office, but not all of them wait for you. So while you are standing in line for
Cool Cabs Ltd
I spotted this gorgeous beach buggy the next day in Mancora. If only my taxi had been this instead! your T-3 form, the bus leaves without you, with your backpack on board!
I knew of this ridiculous scheme, and got a bus to a town near the border. From here I teamed up with a Peruvian guy and a Swedish girl, and shared a taxi to this stupidly placed immigration office. After obtaining this form, we were trying to wave down another taxi when a guy came up to us. He asked us where we were going. We said "Mancora" in Peru, and he said he was going there, and would we like a lift. He motioned to a nearby pickup truck. We asked him how much and he said "nothing". So, let´s examine the facts
1. A guy is outside an immigration office which is miles from civilisation, and only frequented by tourists.
2. By coincidence, he is going to the exact same place as you, over three hours drive away
3. He doesn´t want any money for a lift
This was so obviously a robbery situation! We turned him down and walked away to flag a taxi. Javier (the Peruvian guy) said "that guy was definitely a badboy. I know because I used to
Hotel Grumpy
My accommodation. A really great place place, but the Spanish lady there was the most grumpy and miserable person I have ever met. She always had an expression like a bulldog licking wee off a nettle be one". "What do you mean?" asked Carolina. He looked at us with an evil glint in his eye and said "I used to rob people." Carolina and I looked at each other in shock when he clapped us on the shoulder, laughed and said "just messing with you guys". Although he did say that this is a known scam. If we had taken the lift, the guy would have driven us down a side road, pulled a gun and relieved us of all our bags and valuables, leaving us at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.
Javier seemed like a cool guy, and he owns a bar in Cuzco. He gave me the address and invited me to pop in for a tequila. I´ll probably look him up when I get there. Anyway, we had our T-3 forms and a taxi took us to the border. Unfortunately it was now 10pm, and there were no more onward buses into Peru. So Javier negotiated hard for a taxi, and we paid $10 each for a two-hour ride to Mancora. The taxi was a battered old beast and I had doubts it would even make it to the end of the street, never mind Mancora. The car was similar to the "General Lee" from the TV show "Dukes of Hazzard". And from the way the guy drove, I nicknamed him the "Duke of Hazard". Plus, as with most taxis here, it had a carpet on the dashboard. There wasn´t enough room in the boot for my rucksack, so it had to be lashed to a roof-rack with a piece of worn rope.
Half an hour later we stopped at a a house in the next town where he collected a worryingly large engine part. He then proceeded to fit this to the engine with a screwdriver. He was not replacing a part, this was something that was missing, and we had been driving without it! Next we made another stop down a sinister side street to collect an envelope bulging with money. We then screeched to a halt beside another car where I had to hand the envelope through my window to a guy with a moustache the size of a persian rug. As we drove off in a cloud of burnt rubber with the wheels squealing, the Duke of Hazard turned to me by way of explanation and said "my brother". A likely story.... There were no further stops to make, it was just a white knuckle ride all the way. The headlights barely lit the road, which meant all the potholes were avoided using a mix of lightning reflexes and pot luck (no pun intended). And every time we bumped and jolted over the rough road, I kept checking the road behind in the mirror, to see if my rucksack had fallen off the roof. But despite our near robbery, travelling in an almost condemned vehicle, handling dodgy transactions, and being subjected to insane driving, we arrived in Mancora alive and intact at 1am. It was more than worth the crazy journey, as I learnt one of the world´s coolest skills over the next few days. To be continued.....
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