I was waiting and waiting at the Cruz del Sur bus station in Lima for Piero’s cousin, Bruno. It’s not sketchy, but I just sat for a while outside. It was pretty hot. I sat on the pavement with my bags around me like a fort wall and the workers started to lurk around me starting to make small talk. Tired of getting stared at or asked if I wanted a taxi, I finally went inside about to call him, literally pulling out the money and Bruno waltz in. He went to some club the night before and was still in rough shape. We didn’t really know what to do for the afternoon, so we went to grab some food. My stomach was feeling better, so I was staaarving. Flaxseed breadsticks can only fill you up so much. We ended up returning to the same Bembos (a step up from McDonalds) we went to the first time I was in Lima. They screwed up my order the first time and I swear I ordered it correctly in Spanish. Anyway, Bruno ordered for me to save possible confusion. For some reason again, my order took forever. He claimed I ordered something that he claims “no one does,” so it took extra time.
We hit the road to their “second home” just outside of Lima to go swimming and eat our meals. As we pulled into this more exclusive area, I was in awe. It was huge! It looked like my dream house! There was an empty lot beside theirs and the property owners hadn’t started to build on the land yet. It was overgrown with trees and looked like a little forest. The house itself looked placed in a bunch of trees, but their lot was cleared and the people could run freely around. Eager to get a closer look, 4 (or was it 5) golden and one black retriever ran up to the vehicle. I’m not 100% scared of dogs, just big ones… when they jump on you… even if they’re excited. I’m working on it; I’ve gotten better throughout this trip. Super girly, really unnecessary comment, but the dogs matched my beach dress, so I tossed the dogs around and played with them. It was really cute actually. One is called Chewbaca. I went inside to put my bathing suit on and briefly explored. The whole house was made of natural stone in large blocks and wood that looked reclaimed. They had a screen to pull down and a projector to watch movies with. Their bathrooms alone were beautiful too, gorgeous stone and precious wood. I noticed the house pretty much sat in trees, they surrounded the house and property. There was even a fire pit on the other side of the house’s yard. How perfect and peaceful was this?
We pumped some beats, Bruno grabbed some beers and we ate sitting on their outdoor massive BBQ/ kitchenette set up near the pool. We talked a bunch about music and the festival that he went to, that I missed while I was in Huanchaco. It’s pretty much in all major capital cities in South America. It’s call “Creamfields” and it’s an outdoor DJ festival. The way he described it sounded unbelievable; however, thinking back to my time in the beach town, I am pleased with my choice. Afterwards we swam and the water was cold. There was a breeze in the air and this was their spring season. Bruno went into the water and threatened me if I didn’t follow like I promised. Then the one golden retriever jumped in and paddled around. It was so adorable; I was swayed to go in the icy water. I thought I was going to shiver to a dying coldness until I told Bruno I was going to race him along a length of the pool. I obviously lost because apparently he swims laps or something. We continued, each time I was more determined and warmed up.
Checking the time, things had to wrap up because I needed to quickly grab some headphones before a bus ride (essential). I showered in their amazing washroom and still a bit soaking wet going into the car; Bruno could only find hand towels… I said goodbyes and thanks to Bruno as I sloppily went up to the ticket guy and security to check everything. I still smelt like chlorine, had wet hair dripping places and had my bathing suit in a plastic bag that I plopped on the security guys’ inspection table; he raised his brow to me because the water leaked onto his table. Whoops.
I got my seat and felt comfortable, until a 45yr man sat next to me with his (annoying) teen daughters beside us. He was subtly rude. The only example I can remember now is that we got these blankets in plastic wrap and he put it on my side, so naturally I put it back to his side when he went to the washroom. Then later when I got up for something he put it back on my seat! I couldn’t believe this 45 yr old man starting a battle with me. I sat in my seat trying to think of my next move. I was close to putting it in his bag, but opted not to sink to his passive aggressiveness.
As I was on this bus to Arequipa, one of my last destinations, I realized the end of my trip was quickly approaching. I remembered a bunch of random things and cultural differences, mannerisms of the different civilizations during my travels. Here are some observations and thoughts:
Everywhere in Bolivia and Peru, they paint right on brick side of the buildings for advertisement usually 2 colours (font and background) in massive block letters. Most of them at this time were advertising the election coming up, so a lot of “Presidente…”
When you get into a taxi, you really should lock the doors and roll up the windows because when the car stops (like at a red light), sometimes people will try to open the doors and rob you. Yep. Best be safe. You’ll know as soon and people staring into your cab. Oh yeah, keep your belongings on the floor, not the seat, so it’s less visible.
There’s a lot of fake (sketchy) cabs. You need to check to see if they have a phone number along the side or top, so you know it’s legit and even if the cab stops, it might not be going to that area of town and won’t take you. Also, agreeing on a fee beforehand… sometimes agreements break out, but hold your ground, if you’re white, they raise the price.
Don’t really trust the police. They can rob you too.
All elementary or high school kids (that I know of) wear uniforms to schools and some wear ultimate track suits.
On the coast in Peru, there are motorbikes that have carriages attached on the back, that are used instead of or along with taxis.
People sell everything everywhere. Lying on the beach isn’t as pleasant when (not exaggerating) every 10 or 5 minutes someone comes along carrying a rack of sunglasses trying to sell you one even if your eyes are closed and you are peacefully resting. Mostly on buses in Bolivia, when the bus stops to let some people off, locals are let on the bus to try and sell things. There can be one or two people or up to 7 pacing up and down the aisle, shouting at people. Items sold include: silver chain necklaces, food (like homemade sandwiches and homemade heavily deep fried chips), “speciality” teas and people have sung for money.
On the selling note, many people hand out flyers and yell loudly to advertise for all sorts of things. It’s pretty frustrating at times. I was on a pay phone once and someone came up to me trying to sell me a massage. I was interrupted in mid-sentence and had to put out my hand and say “No” to the woman. Also, you can walk by a group of people 3 times, clearly making note of them and the next time they still ask you repeatedly like they never saw you before. I was at restaurant eating with some friends on an outside patio and a woman came up to us, disrupting our meal and conversation to try to get us to eat at her restaurant. I couldn’t believe it, it was while we were eating. It just doesn’t make sense.
When you are on buses in Bolivia, anything goes. Just because you buy a ticket, doesn’t mean you will get a seat (as mentioned before) and the bus will actually stop in the middle of nowehere along the way to drop you off somewhere if you ask to – the side of the road on a cliff. Also, they will just accept situations happening. A fellow traveler told me this story. They were on a bus in Bolivia and it stopped. Half an hour passed with no one questioning what was happening, so they thought the bus driver was taking a break or something. 2 hours later, still no movement and no one really fussing. The one guy went up to the front to see what was going on. Apparently there was a road block and the bus didn’t want to pay the extra 30 Bolivianos to turn around and take an alternative route. He told the traveler it could be a day until someone came to fix the road. A DAY WAITING ON THE BUS. This was pretty a unbelievable solution and didn’t fit the deadline of my acquaintance, so he went up and down the bus to collect the 30 Bolivianos. No one wanted to really pay, so finally he paid about 18 of those Bolivianos and gave the total money to the bus driver. A 6 hour bus ride turned into about 10 hours. The point though, was that the locals just accepted that nothing was going to happen to help them and they just had to sit there and wait.
These were some of the interesting customs I have been exposed to over here. I wonder what my adventure has left for me now.
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