Bus trips

Since there's absolutely nothing to do in Sucre, we decided to get out of here today, after only one day here. On the bus to Potosí today, there was a guy selling little stapled-together books to his fellow passengers. Chris and I weren't interested in any of his offerings; but I was in a position, smack-bang in the middle of the bus, where I ended up passing all the sold books down the bus, and passing all the money and change up and down, between salesman and buyers. As a reward for my services, the guy gave me a free little comic book of crude, raunchy Bolivian jokes. Bit more Spanish bedtime reading.

Chris and I were hoping to catch either the 8pm or the 8:30pm bus this evening, from La Paz to Potosí. But when we got to the bus station, at 6:30pm this evening, the seats on both of these buses were completely sold out. However, they did have two seats left (the last two) for the bus to Sucre, which left — well — immediately, at 6:30pm! So we immediately bought the two final tickets, ran to the bus, whacked our luggage underneath, and jumped on. And that's how we ended up going to Sucre tonight, instead of to Potosí.

During our bus journey from Copacabana to La Paz this morning (after first buying our tickets), we had to cross over Lake Titicaca at one point, where the lake is very narrow, and where you'd otherwise have to drive around for a very long way. They have a pretty cool ferry system at this spot, where they ferry cars &mash; and buses! — across on wooden rafts. They also ferry people across, on little motor-boats. Fun little interruption to an otherwise eventless journey.

This morning, Chris and I caught a bus from Copacabana to La Paz. But before we could get the bus, we had to buy our tickets. And as with everything in Bolivia, buying bus tickets is a process unlike what you'd expect it to be.

After a very short night's sleep last night, I managed to pull myself out of bed at about 8am this morning, to check out of Hospedaje El Artesano for the last time, and to meet Chris at the Cusco central bus terminal at 10am. It felt really good to have my big bag on my shoulders, and to be back on the road again; but I couldn't believe that I was actually leaving Cusco after all this time (almost 8 weeks!), and that I was once again free of work and study commitments. But I guess I'll get used to it.

If you want to face death on the side of a forested cliff in the middle of the night (and possible live to tell the tale), then catch the night bus from Pilcopata to Cusco. It was the same incredibly bad road that we took to get to Pilcopata on Monday; but it was wet, it was uphill, and it was pitch-black. Massive unsealed pot-holes, in the dark. Hairpin cliff-side bends, in the dark. Passing oncoming vehicles on a road thinner than Kylie's waist, in the dark. Next time, I think I'll walk back.

Today began our three-day trip to Parque Nacional del Manú, and to the jungle town of Pilcopata therein. The trip has been organised by Ashley, who has someone in her family that works for the tour company that we're with, Selva Inka. The people on the trip are: myself; Ashley; Wil; Stephan; and Chris. Our first day consisted, more than anything else, of a very long, very trying bus ride from Cusco to Pilcopata.

This was the longest bus journey that I've undertaken so far on my trip. It was about 24 hours in total: I left Ayacucho at about 7pm last night; we stopped and changed buses this morning at Andahuaylas; and I finally arrived in Cusco at about 7pm this evening. The ride was tedious through the night, and not overly comfortable the whole way; but the Andean highland scenery during the day was spectacular and intriguing, and it made the whole trip worthwhile.

The trip from Lima to Ayacucho — 9 hours overnight — was my first-ever luxury long-distance bus journey. Much nicer than the comfortable, but not lavish, 1^st class buses in Mexico. I went with Cruz Del Sur, one of Peru's top bus companies. Seats that reach back all the way. Large, padded footrests. Tea / coffee and sandwiches served in-trip. And a few movies along the way. Not quite up there with what I've heard about the super-luxurious coaches in Argentina, but impressive nonetheless.

I was already mising Spanish when I touched down in San Francisco airport; but I wasn't missing it for long, because when I jumped on a shuttle bus into the city, both the driver and my fellow passenger were fluent Spanish speakers! The driver was an immigrant from El Salvador, and the other lady on the bus must have learnt it at some point. ¡Bienvenidos a Los Estados Unidos de America, amigo!