The bus
The scene inside the darkened bus is unique. It is 3:00 A.M., the passengers sprawl across their respective seats, simultaneously serenaded by the noisy efforts of the bus on such steep grades, and by a cacophonic "shoot-em-up" movie, replete with lots of gunfire, shouting, and a seemingly invulnerable hero.
I shift in my seat, attempting to releive my sore bottom from the pressure of my own weight. This is understandable, after all, it´s my 16th hour on this bus, after a 23 hour bus ride preceding this one. We are heading to the city of Arequipa, after a short stop-over in Lima.
Time passes in a different dimension on the bus. It flows by like a river of molasses, it is always dissapointing to notice that you have exhausted an eternity in 5 minutes. Conversely, time is easy to lose track of: it is late in the night (or is it early in the morning?) and what day is it?
I awake, my neck is cramped, and my face has that strange mouldy feeling that comes from resting on hands and arms wet from your own slobber. To my discomfort, I visualize a man with a bag of candy raised aloft in his clenched fist, his eyes roam to and fro around the bus, all the while maintaining an incredibly loud diatribe. I take some time to collect my muddled thoughts, and realize that this is one of the ubiquitos "bus sales-men". These fellows are almost always on a bus, trying to sell their product, whether it be a cure-all potion, a handful of caremels, or a passionate discourse on brushing your teeth. This fellow has endurance, maintaining a full cry for one half hour. He finishes by throwing a handful of his candy into everyones laps, and then coming back up the aisle to ask for a sole or two for his generosity.
We finally arrive in Arequipa, there is a hectic scramble for aquiring our luggage from underneath the bus, followed by a search for a reasonable taxi to take us to our hostel.
Our bus ride is over, finally.
I shift in my seat, attempting to releive my sore bottom from the pressure of my own weight. This is understandable, after all, it´s my 16th hour on this bus, after a 23 hour bus ride preceding this one. We are heading to the city of Arequipa, after a short stop-over in Lima.
Time passes in a different dimension on the bus. It flows by like a river of molasses, it is always dissapointing to notice that you have exhausted an eternity in 5 minutes. Conversely, time is easy to lose track of: it is late in the night (or is it early in the morning?) and what day is it?
I awake, my neck is cramped, and my face has that strange mouldy feeling that comes from resting on hands and arms wet from your own slobber. To my discomfort, I visualize a man with a bag of candy raised aloft in his clenched fist, his eyes roam to and fro around the bus, all the while maintaining an incredibly loud diatribe. I take some time to collect my muddled thoughts, and realize that this is one of the ubiquitos "bus sales-men". These fellows are almost always on a bus, trying to sell their product, whether it be a cure-all potion, a handful of caremels, or a passionate discourse on brushing your teeth. This fellow has endurance, maintaining a full cry for one half hour. He finishes by throwing a handful of his candy into everyones laps, and then coming back up the aisle to ask for a sole or two for his generosity.
We finally arrive in Arequipa, there is a hectic scramble for aquiring our luggage from underneath the bus, followed by a search for a reasonable taxi to take us to our hostel.
Our bus ride is over, finally.
posted by Jonas at 4:48 PM
4 Comments:
keep up the good work kid! sounds like you're having a fine adventure.
John, I loved the line about exhausting an eternity in 5 minutes. You can look forward to bus vendors in Ecuador too.
What memories! You're description reminds me of bus rides in China--especially the rediculously invicible heroes constantly displayed on cheap, gratutitous movies.
Thanks for taking the time to chat with your little big brother--even though it probably kept you from doing another post.
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