Life on a bus: this time to Arequipa.
After we left machu picchu, rode the bus to Aguas calientes, paid way too much money for dinner, made another doggy friend, took the train to ollantaytambo ( where I made friends with 2 guys from Oregon, rob and Randall), where we caught a colectivo to cusco. I love this combi/collectivo idea. You meet folks, it's inexpensive, more comfortable than a bus, and super convenient. This colectivo took us back to cusco where we were crashing for the night before our day trip to arequipa.
When we arrive at the hostel, la doña, who was super sweet, let's us in and hands us two bottles of water "para lavar Los dientes". She doesn't really explain why except to say that when it rains a lot the water in the city is - and makes a motion with her hands. I've noticed this a bit in Spanish before. And I have determined that it is for 1 of 3 reasons:
1. The words don't exist in Spanish vocabulary and so they just describe it with noises and movements.
2. They figure the gringos won't know that vocabulary.
3. The vocabulary is there but it's uncommon slang.
I'm thinking número uno.
Well apparently this waving motion meant that there was no water. We got upstairs, and go to consider a shower and all we get is 'errrrr'. Yep no agua. O pues. we don't shower much anyway.
The next morning we awake with all intentions of grabbing breakfast before hand. But we are slow, and don't pack our things fast enough. La doña hails us a cab and off we go to the terrestre. As you walk towards the station, there are lots of vendors. Prefect. Breakfast time. We ask the lady for 2 empanadas de queso And two orange juices to go. The empanadas are straight. She wraps them in napkins and done. The juice: little bit more of an issue. She doesn't have to go cups. The neighbor doesnt have anything for to go. Suddenly we see her squeezing more oranges. There is plenty of juice for 2 glasses. What is she doing? At this point, we are also concerned about possibly missing our bus. Then we notice that she is going for the bags. Juice Babies! Of course! She pours half of the juice in each bag, sticks a straw in the middle and ties it shut. 8 soles. I pay the lady and we rush into the terminal.
7:40. We have plenty of time. I go up to the counter hand the lady my ticket and try to check our bags.
"sola una mochila". What? I bought 2 tickets; you better believe I'm checking one bag for each ticket. I tell her this and she starts arguing with me; lady, I'm decaffeinated. You really aren't going to win this one. Finally after a minute or two, she sighs, lets out an "ay" and goes with it. Ha! That's what I thought. Trying to short me by making us carry one of the packs. You my friendly teller are una loquita.
Onto the bus we go. We get to the top of the stairs and it's blocked. A British man turns to us and asks us where were trying to go. Our seats are 1 and 2, so to the front. There are already people there. They double booked the seats. The brits are a little frazzled, but I just tell them I'll go talk to the person. No big deal. They insist on coming with me, which is mildly comical because they didn't speak a lick of spanish. We get down to the woman and the men step in front, showing their tickets and kind of flailing about. I find it very amusing that when someone doesnt speak the language, folks just speak louder and slower; like that helps. The woman just stares at them until I push past a bit and explain it in Spanish. She quickly goes to the book, looks some things over and "straightens" it out ... or so we think. We climb back on and there's someone new in the seat. He has the same seat number. At this point, the Brits are about to hit the roof. Luckily the guy quickly gets up, just says it's ok, and moves to the back ... Poor dude.
So the trip has begun. I have to say that the scenery to Arequipa was absolutely beautiful. And I'm constantly amused by the things that I'm seeing for the first time here in Peru; in Lima it was the pacific, Arequipa the desert ... It's awesome.
The Brits were a riot the entire trip. They were just as baffled as us about the cultural differences, but express it constantly and loudly. They began making up names for each other. The scenario would go something like so (and imagine it in either a British or Irish accent to get the true effect):
"Ahhh right she can me machu picchu mory. But what can eilene be?"
" ... inca eilene"
" oh inca eilene! Perfect! Now isn't that just splendid! Oh! And Paul can be pachacuteq Paul!"
Too funny. obviously they had been on a lot of tours explaining Inca history.
So last crazy bus ride we had a stop at a restaurant in the middle of nowhere in order to almorzar. This time we had a butcher. No joke! So I've learned a common occurrence on a bus is for the someone to get on the bus at either a station or a stop, attempt to make some money, and jump off at the ends of town. So it's around lunch time and we stop somewhere and let a couple of ladies on. Of course there's no room, so they snuggle themselves amongst the Brits/Irish and ourselves, sitting in the aisles. They plop a few things down (which of course the Brits are going on about) and start calling out for something. I look over beside me, trying my best to be discreet. Ahhh. Juice babies! Why not??! The Brits didnt understand this concept of putting juice in a bag: "well how on earth do you drink it?" one of them asked me at some point. I go back to minding my own business until this smell begins to fill the bus and I begin to hear the Brits:
"well it does smell awful good" "oh I could never trust it" "do you think she does this often" "what if she cuts herself?"
I turn around to see the younger woman sitting on the stairs, cleaver in hand, hacking away at this large roasted animal wrapped in paper. She hands a napkinful to the older lady to sell. I look at the back of the bus; everyone's eating it ... That is except for the Brits and veggies. Then 10 minutes later it's the end of the town; she wraps the animal back up, throw it on her back, grab the juice babies and descend. It's the end of the town; it's time for their departure.
Solo en Perú ....
—la gringuita
No comments:
Post a Comment