Hairy Bus Journey No.37

Puno to Cusco, Southern Peru

We chose to overnight in Puno and get the early morning bus the next day so we would arrive in Cusco at a reasonable hour and get ourselves sorted and bedded down without having to rush around. At the bus station the previous day we checked out the bus company, bought our tickets and picked the best seats on the bus. Cara wanted the two seats at the front so we could see the views on the way, but after our difficulties in Bariloche I wanted the two seats immediately behind the stairs as they always seemed the most comfortable. On the bus in the morning, I quickly realised that I had made the worst choice. My seat was the crappiest on the bus. Lousy legroom, broken recliner and in the firing line of every yahoo who climbed up the stairs.

As the bus left Puno, the driver seemed to have taken a wrong turn somewhere. I'm not too familiar with the street layout of this particular town but I'm guessing this is what happened as an overhead power cable we hadn't quite cleared almost ripped off the ventilation hatch that was right above my head. It managed to cling on by it's fingernails but it wouldn't close for the rest of the journey. Let's hope it doesn't rain, eh ?

As every one of the buses 126 occupants tried to squeeze past each other, they took it in turns to sit in my lap to let people through. When they weren't trying to sit on me, they were smacking me across the back of the head with their luggage. That was almost as unpleasant as having the ticket inspector's crotch 2 inches from my nose for ten minutes. After about 45 minutes of driving, we made our first pitstop and another 437 people climbed on the bus. They had plenty of time to get comfortable though, as the bus broke down at this point and we sat there for an hour while a very small man with a very big hammer climbed underneath the bus went about his business of whacking the crap out of it until it started again. Just to prove his level of commitment, he continued to whack the crap out of the undercarriage even after the bus set off again, and he had to be pulled out kicking and screaming by a colleague moments before he was smeared across an upcoming speedbump. Several local vendors climbed onboard to flog lunch to the passengers and they politely formed an orderly queue, each taking it in turn to smack me around the head with whatever they were carrying. I can reliably inform you that a bucket of sweetcorn hurts approximately twice as much as a sack of breadrolls with cheese on top, although neither hurts anywhere near as much as a crate of coca-cola smacking you in the temple. Finally, after about half an hour after setting off agin, it all settled down and I could read my book without a large Peruvian lady sticking her arse in my face. I almost felt like dozing off but fortunately for me a large suitcase jumped off the overhead rack at this point and smacked me in the stomach. Just to add insult to injury, it was a bright pink Barbie case with wheels that catch you in places you don't like to be caught, and I'm not talking about Burnely!

Just as I was getting my breath back, the bus ground to a halt once more, although this time not for a reason of it's own making. The road ahead was completely blocked by various objects, namely large boulders, broken glass, burning tyres and an unruly mob! There was some sort of ad-hoc political demonstration in progress and they would like to make their feelings known to all the road users, if this was alright with us. The crowd congregated at the head of the column of stopped traffic and made various chants and shouts about their discontent with their mayor. I wanted to tell them, if they didn't like their mayor they could have mine, but I don't think they would have appreciated having to pay £8 a day just to drive across town. After more wasted time, much sabre rattling and some effective diplomacy from the coach and truck drivers, the crowd agreed to let us through, although after all that heated political debate they really couldn't be bothered to clear the road of debris. Our coach was forced to drive off the road onto a nearby dirt track and through the small town up ahead. Now bearing in mind this town was not used to traffic much larger than your average donkey, the streets were not best suited to a large coach with 563 people onboard. 200 yards in, the bus stopped once more as it stuck in the mud trying to make a hairpin turn through somebody's front garden. The driver reversed up and tried again. Still no joy. He tried again, and again. Still nothing. All the men on the coach jumped off and we tried to push the bloody thing around the corner but it was still no use. Finally, the driver reversed his way back down a few streets and found an alternative route through the village. Unfortunately, he forgot all the men from the bus were still back up the hill and we were treated to waves from our loved ones as the bus sped off without us. After about quarter of a mile, somebody must have said something to him, because he kindly stopped and waited for us to catch up. Back on the main road, the driver stopped again and let another 27 people on. This time I was only hit round the head with an eighteen month old infant.

If some of you are a little confused as to how many people were now on this bus, let me briefly explain how transport works in this region. I will use our recent boat trip on Lake Titicaca as an example. Let's say you have two boats. Each boat has a capacity of 50 people. You have 60 people booked on an excursion, what do you do? Easy, pack them onto one boat. Okay, let's say you have 80 people booked, what do you do now? Easy again, pack them onto the same one boat. Make some of them sit on the floor and the rest go on the roof even if it's raining. They're either gringos or Argentinian students so who gives a shit? Now a really tricky one, you have 100 people. They can't possibly all go on one small boat, no matter how tightly you herd them in. What do you do? Well, apparently what you do for 100 people is get both boats, each with a capacity of 50, pack 80 people onto the first boat as per normal and put the remaining 20 on the second boat. You see, it's obvious when you think about it.
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Back on the Love Bus, we had stopped again to let on a young lady with a very large basket wrapped in a blanket. At first I assumed she was just selling cakes or corn as usual, but when she set down the basket right in front of me, opened it up and I saw a leg sticking out of it, I realised it wasn't going to be that simple. She spent the next 10 miles hacking into some animal carcass with a huge cleaver and dishing out bags of meat to everyone on the bus. I was tempted to try some, but after 15 minutes with blobs of fat and bone splinters whizzing past my head, I decided against it. After taking a peak in the basket, I could see what looked like a scaly, webbed foot with feathers, fur and horns. I can only assume it was from a species hitherto unknown to science. I wanted to keep one of the bones for research but an old dear behind me ate it with a loud crunch. Shortly after, it started raining on me through the broken hatch. We finally arrived at our chosen destination, three hours late but still in one piece.
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Mik