Leaving Peru: Puno to Tacna

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On January 23rd, we woke up in Puno and actually got to sleep late for the first time in a while. We walked around the town and explored our neighborhood while running errands, including doing a VERY necessary load of laundry. We sat down to do internet stuff after a very filling lunch for $.66 cents and it started pouring rain while we were in there, killing our plans to explore the city some more. Instead, we relaxed in Ricos Pan, a cafe and pastry shop that we got to know and love while we were in Puno. The dulce de leche (carmel) sweets were just one nuevo sole (33 cents) and we just delicious... and the best part? No Soy! I´m going to get really fat here because I can actually eat sweets!

Soon we ventured to the bus station for an 8pm bus to Tacna, which is the border town with Chile where we would cross over. As the bus pulled in, we looked at each other and in our minds thought, "Holy crap." If you have ever seen the movie Major League, then you will know why we were so nervous... our bus was serious like the bus (or plane?) from that movie and at that point we weren´t sure that we would actually make it to Tacna. And I can´t believe I used to complain about Greyhound! The bus was passed it´s prime, with it´s best features being the TVs that were duct taped to the sides of the bus and all for no reason since it´s not like they worked. The really dim lights on the paneling flicked on and off as we drove, finally going out completely as we went over a large bump on the dirt "highway" we were driving on. The seats were crammed in the bus and the whole thing looked like it hadn´t been cleaned in about 15 years. I tried to ignore the scratching sounds of the engine and also tried not to think of the stories we heard in Lima about people´s whole packs getting boosted off a bus while they were sleeping. To use a term from the Australians we´ve met traveling, the bus was very "dodgey" (sp?)

As we climbed aboard the bus, looking for our seats, the Peruvians kept telling us to go downstairs where there were bigger seats that reclined more... assuming just because we were tourists that we had the more expensive tickets on the bottom of the bus. Not that would have made a difference though, it would still have been the same bus. Jay was really taken back by this since at home he isn´t stereotyped for the way he looks, but here it was obvious that our light (or lighter) skin, dress and English were the reasons why people assumed were we on the wrong bus or section.

But we located our seats in the middle of the top of the bus, settling in between women of all ages, some children and mostly middle aged men... many of them dressed in traditional Peruvian clothing, carrying what looked like vegetables in their thin plastic suitcases or wrapped in the traditional carrying sash of the area - basically what looked like an oversized, multicolored sling. As we started stopping in nearby towns, we noticed that despite the fact that the seats were full, people kept getting on, leaving people to STAND on the 12 hour overnight bus ride or to sleep in the aisle covered in blankets hoping not to get stepped on.

Oh, I almost forgot the best part... no bathroom. 12 hours on a bus with no bathroom. Wow. About two hours into the trip, we made a rest stop to pick more people up and Jay went out to find the bathroom. Like at most reststops, he just followed where the other men were going hoping they would lead him to the bathroom... well, they sort of did and he went behind a parked bus to use the "bathroom." The only woman to get off just walked about 20 feet away from the bus, pulled up her long, flowing skirt and just popped a squat in the middle of the parking lot. Interesting.

At about 1am, after being on the bus for 5 hours, I really thought that my bladder might explode. Even when I saw that the bus was falling apart, I really didn´t think that it wouldn´t have a bathroom, so I didn´t think to stop drinking water until it was too late. The bus driver pulled over on the side of the road and people started yelling at him to open the door, but he didn´t until people were all in the aisles, stepping on sleeping people trying to force their way off the bus. Finally, he opened the doors and we trickled out of the bus to encounter about 25 men just peeing in a field on the side of the road, many looking up at the beautiful stars in the clear sky in the middle of nowhere. It was really funny. Of course, it wasn´t funny as I tried to find an isolated patch of land behind a tiny bush to take care of business. But after 5 hours, I just didn´t care anymore. It was a crazy experience!

The first few hours of the ride were REALLY cold, even though I was wearing about 6 layers of clothing, but around 2am we started to approach the desert and the temperature in the bus started to rise. And so did the stench. I actually started to hope that the bus would finally breakdown just so we could go outside for some air.

Good times though... it´s these kind of stories that make the travel experience what it is. And believe it or not, that bus did make it to Tacna and so did our packs! We just learned a valuable lesson that no matter how annoying it was, it was better to go to the bus station and buy bus tickets ourselves than trust a "travel agency" in the middle of a city that would just put us on a the cheapest bus and take our money. Oh well, I guess I can thank the travel agent for the experience.

We climbed off the bus, took a much needed breath of fresh air and began to prepare to cross the border into Chile. Overall, I had a good time in Peru but was excited to cross into Chile, where I knew it would be very different from it´s northern neighbor.

The cities in Peru were thick with history, although mostly Incan or pre-Incan history and little about colonial or post-colonial times. Despite earthquakes, some cities did have colonial buildings still standing, but there seemed to be less appreciation for these buildings overall... and for the legacy of the Spaniards in general. Peruvians seemed to identify strongly with their indigenous roots and almost despise their Spanish heritage, even though most people are not purely Native but at least a small mixture of both. The cities in Peru were interesting, but not magical. No poetic lines can be inspired from these cities, but they are not cold or dangerous or anything, just sort of lacking in charm.

Overall, Peruvians were friendly towards tourists, sometimes overly friendly as they tried to sell you things, but mostly we were ignored and received short answers when we asked questions. I am trying to think of a word to describe most of the Peruvians we met and spoke with and the only word that comes to mind is businesslike, but not in the NYC banker sort of way... just to the point. Not friendly but not rude either. Of course, these thoughts are just based on the people we met and the cities we visited and may not be true for the whole country, so its sort of a bold generalization. But these are just my observations and opinions, you have to visit yourself to decide if you agree with me or not.

Thank you, Peru, for the good times, the sites and the history. Next stop: Arica, Chile.

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