Pt. 1: Sure, I Can Go from the USA to the Depths of the Andes in 36 Hours

There are so many things that have happened in the past several months it is hard to know where to begin. I haven't written anything about one of the most influential trips I have taken thus far this year - I guess that's a place to start. I am going to type my journal from the trip rather than change all the verbs to past tense... don't get confused, this isn't happening now. And, because I might just type as I wrote, I apologize ahead of time of the incohesive use of tenses: depending on what time of day I was writing, it is half present, half past, half travel-weary confused English.

Journey to the Land That Time Forgot

August16

I arrived from the USA in the morning, at about 5AM. Most flights from the US are overnight flights... only 5-6 hours, which isn't bad, but all travel included I'd been flying since 5PM the night before. I used to be able to sleep so well on airplanes... I prided myself in being able to sleep anywhere. Well, after 7 months of travel in super-comfortable (if you choose the right bus!) bus-camas around Perú, those straight, rock-hard airplane seats don't do much for me. Suffice it to say: I arrived exhausted.

I got in touch with my friend Lucho, the watchyman I have mentioned in the past, and learned that he had bus tickets for Huánuco... leaving that night. Talk about a quick change of pace... from extravagance and luxury in the United States (and sweltering summer heat) to normal bustling life in Lima (gray, chilly, and dreary) to life in the Andes of Perú (bitter cold winter nights)... all in about 36 hours.

Luis didn't actually think I would go with him. We had talked about it months ago; he told me that he wanted to show me his village, and I wanted to see the place I had heard so many stories about. I expected to come back within 4 days or so (silly me); classes start in a few days and even with 4 days I will miss the first few days of my classes. Lucho laughed at this prospect: there would be no returning in 4 days. I have to commit at least a week, a full 7 days. I spent the whole afternoon trying to decide: can I miss that much class? I had, in my heart, already committed to go-- but what about the practicality of it? In the end, it came down to this: I want to be with Luis when he visits his mother's grave for the first time since her death two years ago.

Because Huanuco isn't really a tourist destination, none of the nice bus companies go there: I was terrified. Nice bus companies here really have nothing to do with the comfort of the seats, although that is always a bonus. My main concern: arriving alive. Unfortunately, its a real risk here-- skimping on the bus company can be a scary possibility. Our tickets were with León de Huánuco, which is the best of all the questionable companies that make the hike to this corner of the Andes.

The bus left at 10PM; Lucho (which, by the way, is a nickname for Luis) picked me up at the house at 8. We were loaded down with packages-- family members in Lima were sending clothes, food (such as bread you can't get in the sierra), medicine and other goodies to the family we were going to see. And by packages, I mean beat up boxes and huge bags of woven plastic, crudely sewn together with a thick plastic string at the top. I was the only foreigner/gringo in the empresa; in fact, even my upper-class Lima-bred friends would have been out of place.

The ride wasn't bad. Of course, I was heavily Dramamined... helps me sleep, for one, and for two... you've got to be kidding me if you think I'll travel on Andean roads without some serious nausea medication. Around 3AM though, I woke up drenched in sweat. Peruvians have this serious fear of cold, and it was cold outside (frigid, to be exact)-- but on the bus it was stuffy, muggy, and hot-- with heat on full blast. The heater was actually at my side, and if I left my leg there for more than a few seconds I got scalded.

Luis took great care of me from the outset: an indication of how the trip is going to go, I think. Every half hour or so he woke up to re-cover me with the thick polar blanket that I had inevitably thrown off in my overheated misery; he scolded me and told me, "Lore, abrigate, abrigate, tapate!"-- Lore, bundle up, bundle up, cover yourself!-- and was utterly appalled by the fact that I kept my hand plastered to the icy window- and occasionally rubbed the cold on my forehead- in an effort to not boil.

Early in the morning before reaching Ambo the bus was stopped by the police/military. They searched the bus, asking various passengers to open their bags. Apparently, Huánuco is still a heavy drug province and this highway is frequently used to transport drugs and weapons. Luis told me not to open my mouth, not to give any indication that I am a foreigner... I have yet to find out why. I remain grateful for features that allow me to blend in here and most places in the world; today included: appearing gringa is, where we are, more a risk than a benefit.