Busing Latin America: A Little Meditation and a Lot of Hunger

After busing across Central America, I figured Amanda and I could handle anything. We'd survived 7, 8, 9 hour bus rides like champs. We would load up on snacks - crackers, cheese, bananas, apples, and lollipops, plug into our Ipods, and watch the terrain poetically change from banana plantations to mountainous rock to ocean. We would doze off occasionally. Amanda would distract me with small chatter when she glimpsed the glazed look in my eyes that could only mean I was thinking too hard about the future, home, relationships, or what to do next. And I would do the same for her. We developed a familiarity with silence; silences sometimes spurred by complete and painful hunger, but also silences that come from the quiet mediation that is only brought on when you are confronted with too many hours of complex questions.

Amanda and I spent 92.5 hours on buses across Central America. I would consider us to be professionals. Right?

But, South America is big.

And I mean really big.

As I sat on our host family's porch one evening in Puerto El Morro, slapping mosquitoes and drinking Cifrut (South America's "Sunny D" which I have become obsessed with!), I began flipping through the Peru pages of the Lonely Planet guidebook. Looking for a cute beach town to pop into between construction projects, I found a small town called Trujillo that was - according to the map - just about half way between Guayaquil, Ecuador's southern most big city, and Lima. Trujillo was supposedly surrounded by Incan ruins and surfers. Great, two bonuses! Wait . . . 18 hours! That couldn't be possible. Suddenly less excited, I closed the book, vowed to make a plan later, and headed to bed.

That plan never did get made, and I never did pick up the book again. There just wasn't any time in between all of the other books I was simultaneously reading and all the time spent swinging listlessly in the hammocks. Or maybe I was just in denial. Either way, the day to leave Puerto El Morro crept upon us faster than we realized and we were soon packing our bags and boarding a bus to travel the 2 hours east from the pacific coast to the smoggy city of Guayaquil.

Once at the bus station, we learned we had already missed the single daily bus to Trujillo. We could either wait at the bus station for 10 hours or spend the time at least getting as far south as we could. One of my dear family friends wrote me an email several weeks ago, asking: "Are you making plans as you go, or do you decide to go somewhere and then figure out how?" This example is the best explanation I can come up with - a little bit of both, but mostly just trial and quite a lot error.

For $11 we were able to board a 10 hour bus to Mancora, a sleepy beach town in the north of Peru, where all of Chile, Argentina, and Brazil come to spend summer break (January through March). By accident we had managed to land ourselves in the best-known beach of Peru, where the water was gorgeous, the people were friendly, and all the bars were situated so you could squish your toes in the sand while sipping a famous local Pisco Sour (wish I actually liked them, I'll just have a cerveza).

Yes, it was serendipitous indeed. Except for the fact that we were still extremely far from Lima. 20 hours far.

And I don't care how you look at it, or how "professional" you may be, 20 hours on a bus is far. Especially when your "4 generations too old" Ipod only lasts for 10 hours, and even the thought of reading makes you want to vomit . . .

We boarded the Oreno line, a bus company that offers semi-cama seats (reclining 3/4 of the way) for 110 soles, or about $42 . The first 2 hours we watched The Switch, a silly chick flick that should not have been deemed worthy to be dubbed over into another language. Yet, I at least discovered that my love for Jennifer Anniston is just as strong when she speaks Spanish. And then by the very grace of God, I got sleepy. I found myself yawning and my eyes drooping. And I fell asleep! And by that same grace I stayed asleep until 8 a.m. - later than I ever sleep in a bed down here. Not sure who was smiling on me, but I am thankful. This morning, after sitting through Old Dogs and wishing John Travolta had stopped when he was ahead, I fell asleep again!

When I re-awoke we were driving through the most interesting landscape I have ever seen. The narrow Pan-american Highway wound through steep, rolling sand dunes. To my right dramatic rock cliffs dropped hundreds of feet into the ocean. As we cruised closer to Peru's capital, we could have been in the Middle East as the wind swept the sand into tiny tornadoes that rolled over dusty, tin suburbs.

We pulled into Lima Thursday afternoon, exactly 19.5 hours after we left Mancora Wednesday night. I stepped off the bus very hungry, really having to pee, and with some serious leg cramp. But also actually quite rested and less mentally exhausted than I have felt after shorter bus rides. Perhaps I am finally getting a little better at thinking less and dreaming more.

Just hopefully this pattern continues as we are faced with 23 hours from Lima to Cuzco in just a few short weeks. Wish us luck . . .