Big city bus stations - a Latin American vortex.
2/09/26: In the morning, I headed over to the bus station in Lima. Big city bus stations in Latin America are humongous. I walked into the main entrance and was overwhelmed with options. There had to be well over 100 bus sales agency kiosks. Some had to be resellers, but many seemed to have their own buses. The station itself was clean, organized, and offered many ancillary retail services. The bus price points are all relatively reasonable.
Bangkok = Chancay, Peru?!
Got off the bus in Chancay (Shahn-k-eye) and my chariot awaited me. An old-school tuk-tuk; a rickshaw-esque mobile, basically a motorcycle with 2 back wheels and a carriage for human seating.
Story time: I'll never forget when my friend Jen and I went to Bangkok for my 40th birthday. 2 nights into the trip, and I was bolt upright awake at 2:30 am. I asked her, loud enough to wake her on the other side of the room, "Jen, you awake?" Lo and behold, she became awake. We were both awake now. Mission accomplished. We decided to catch a Tuk-Tuk and drive over to the flower market. Tuk-Tuk comes, that dude was trashed. We were flyin' through the streets of downtown Bangkok at 3 am looking for trouble, and we had just the right driver to do so!
Red panties = Valentines Day!!!
Chancay was meant to be the beginning of my slow roll: chillin', readin', and catchin' up with online crap I've been puttin' off and new blog updates... There was nothing to do; It was a one-horse sheriff kinda town. In my time there, I only witnessed a few other token white folks- they looked lost. I seemed like an enigma to the owner and employees there. I ended up extending my time for a few more days, to a week in total, and became part of their crew.
One night, they had a Valentine's party. I had no clue it was even Valentine's Day until I was in town noticing people hawking flowers/balloons/red panties... I was such a part of their crew that night that I bartended and helped to serve other guests.
A budding chef in Nowheresville.
I gotta say, one of the girls working there had mad cooking skills! I watched her navigate multiple items at the same time for a large group of people, just like in a restaurant environment. Even though it was a simple plate consisting of chicken wings and fries (alitas y papa fritas), the wings were hand-battered, the fries were fresh-cut, and scratch-made 4 condiments: Salsa a la Huancaína, Ají verde, BBQ, & Mayonnaise. She plated each dish with care and pride before serving it to the guests. Come to find out she was in cooking school and had very impressive skills. I wish her the best in her circumstances.
QUEEN ELIZABETH IS A LIZARD PEOPLE!!!
Reminds me of a time I did that a few years back over New Year's on the border of Belize/Guatemala. It was a 'homestay' where I stayed in a room in someone's home. NOTHING was going on there, the place was subpar, even in my estimation, but I liked the people, needed human interaction, and stayed for a week- I overstayed my welcome, since he eventually (sort of nicely) pushed me out. BTW, those were the people who were adamant that the Queen of England (bless her soul) was one of the Lizard peoples, and they had lots of other conspiracy theories they were always trying to impress upon me.
$16 Massage??? OH HELL YES, PLEASE!!!
I did find myself an amazing deep-tissue massage, fyi. This guy figured out my problem areas, and hit them hard. 1.5-hour massage with some e-stim, $16!!! Yes, please. May I have another?! I went twice. This dude was so into his craft that when I tried to give him a tip, he refused! When's the last time any of you were turned down trying to give someone a tip!?
One day, I had a hankerin' for some pasta. Found me a little "EYE"-talian place, and was pleasantly surprised to find a great Bolognese! My only fun food adventure was a chicken soup with the chicken foot waving at me from the top. Most other meals I compiled from the local mercado, which was unexpectedly well-equipped and very clean for such a small town, sans the typical loafing dogs.
Sad days are these.
The day I finally left, getting into my 3-wheeled chariot, I was sad to leave my newfound family. The owner, Julio, was super sweet and was always concerned for my comfort. I felt emotionally attached to the people at the stay. Onward Christian soldier, once again scarring another community I leave behind in my wake. Yet, I had places to go, people to meet, and things to do.
So that's why my places in seedy areas are so cheap and have red lights?!
Begrudgingly, I headed to Lima. That place is so huge and is noted for its notorious traffic; I was not looking forward to going back. Long story short, I FINALLY, found my stay with the help of people hangin' out on the streets. My place had no outdoor signage. The number of places I've been to that don't advertise themselves amazes me. Some of these spots might get tagged as 'sketchy' by cautious folks, so the owners in those dodgy areas keep their exact locations under wraps. In my days of travel, I've learned you don't score a $10.50/night room in the ritzy part of town, though, either! The owner was super sweet, and the stay was very clean! No "ladies of the night'' sauntering about the outside with their "Johns" hangin' close or using the hourly-rate inside spaces like the place I stayed in El Salvador. I consider that a score. Even a man like me has got to draw the line somewhere- depending on the price, of course.
As I wander the hood hunting for food, locals lounge around cracking beers and eyeing me—the gringo turd in their punchbowl. Too obvious and dumb to threaten their turf. That night, I also scored a full shave and haircut for $12! It was a Sunday night. The later it got, the wilder and louder it got. It was like spring break in Florida; everyone was lettin' it loose.
Since the 'new' Lima airport was noted for its shitty people movement, and international flights were strongly suggested to be there up to 4 hours before flight, I went to bed early- no dancing with the neighbors this time! Bummer. You know me, whenever there's a chance to run for Mayor, I'm on it. The alarm screeched at 4 am. I was showered, packed, picked up by 4:30, and at the airport 15 minutes later. It turned out better than expected, other than me being 3 hours early!
Heather returns, and here comes Colombia- the place I've been salivating about for years now. Later that day, I was meeting Heather in Bogota. She was flying in from Costa Rica, and coincidentally, we were flying another leg to Santa Marta together. Then taxi-ing with Santos, the taxi guy/source everything/Jedermann that all traveling people need to have on speed dial kinda dude, to the ultimate bay-side destination in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas, Taganga.
Stick around for: - Wow, those are the size of my finger! Is that size even legal? - There's no such thing as a small-enough-sized bay. - So, the fish we just bought are edible, right? - What if cats had opposable thumbs? - This seems like what the promised land should look like.
