Well we hit our first bit of bad luck. The concept of time held by most South Americans, coupled with their driving ability, is a frustrating phenomenon. While in Ecuador and Peru, I have noticed a general lack of concern or indifference when it comes to work, appointments, or any concept of time, many people I have met work when they want and get to where they are going when it suits them. Wayne (refer to post, They will have to kill me before I die) explained when setting a meeting with one of the Ecuadorian workers, for the same day, he had to specify it be that very same day, and could not just say, “Lets meet at five.”
Walter´s family exhibited the same behavior. They keep flexible work hours and vacation when they choose and Peru is similar case. Pariwana, the hostel where we stayed in Lima, scheduled activities for the guests which, ironically like clockwork, started 45 minutes later then originally planned. Also I have already remarked in the previous post how care free people were in Huacachina. The waiters moved at their own pace and even Alizia, a person whom I have befriended more than any other on this trip, owned a restaurant and hung out with us in the back while customers in the front waited for menus.
Now, this lifestyle normally would not bother me. I have been accused of being easy going more than once and I admire the stress reduced lifestyle, often found in warmer climates, that contrasts the high paced lifestyle often found in American cities. However, what I find puzzling is the way in which people drive and how it completely contradicts the way they live. Many people drive like they are in a hurry, a state they only seem to be in when they are behind the wheel. I have seen many reckless drivers in Peru and Ecuador. Walter’s uncle is a perfect example. He drives well above the speed limit, 40 km on average, cuts people off, accelerates on turns, and passes cars even if they are going the same speed. Furthermore we were staying in the Andes, so most of the instances in which cars were passed involved blind turns 10 feet from a cliff. His driving, I must admit, made me want to punch him in the face from the back seat. But, once again, I let it go.
However, when we are on a bus crossing the Andes and it looses control to the point where the driver has to crash the bus into the side of the mountain to avoid going over a cliff, I reserve the right to be upset. It is night, its snowing, the turns are about as sharp as they can be and the bus river felt the need to go so fast the stewardess warns you to slow down several times. I wonder if the driver's home has been checked for asbestos.
Once I felt the bus loose traction I froze. Walter, with a clear view of the window, turns to me and can only bring himself to say, “O shit.” In that moment, even with no concept of where we were on the road, I could tell this was not an "O shit" I forgot my keys or an "O shit" I dropped my phone. This was an "O shit," we are going to die. It is immediately after this the driver, doing the smartest thing he has ever done, crashes into the mountain.
And thus began, without a doubt, one of the worst days of my life. I can spend pages describing the hellish trip that led to me writing this from my bed because I feel like terribly sick; however I will keep it brief. We are able to talk are way on to a different bus from a different company. It was full so a portion of this 16 hour ride, I would say roughly a quarter, was spent sitting in between the aisles (keep in mind we drove 5 hours before the crash and were stranded for 3 more). Not the most comfortable of positions, as you could imagine. Also it is apparent that this new bus has been hit by a strain of the Ebola virus because almost everyone is vomiting (I was being facetious, on the off chance that was not apparent).
So in conclusion,
1. Fuck buses.
2. Fuck reckless drivers. The next time I am in a car and dude drives like an asshole he gets one warning, that’s it.
3. Fuck dudes who are 40 lbs over weight, wear leather jackets, have greasy hair, Yes I was in line first and if you don’t mind I am asking about my luggage that’s on a tilted bus on the side of a mountain. O and the douchebag convention is in the other terminal
4. Fuck administrators in the academic department at Loyola. I am in Peru if you haven’t received my grades ask my professor. And way to not return emails
Fuck the sign outside my room. Apparently the hostel wants to inform me that my room has “microcirculation,” whatever the hell that is, that allows for better sleep. Umm no the room is just cold as hell and you don’t have any heat
5.
Great blog I loved it
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