A lot of bus

Thursday night, 10pm: Leaving Cochambamba for La Paz, then Lake Titicaca and Copacabana before the border at Desaguadero, afterwards lies Puno and finally arriving in Cuzco at 1:30am on Saturday.

A lot of bus.

A lot of beautiful scenery, particularly the terraced hills ringing Lake Titicaca. Incan terraforming visible everywhere on gentle slopes and dangerous descents. Blue water and fierce sun at 3,800 meters above sea level gave me the worst burn of the trip yet. Well worth it.

After getting stamped and processed at Desaguadero, the Peru-Bolivia border, 7 additional people joined the already full bus that brought us there. Naturally this created a scramble for seats with 7 people, not all of them new, having to sit in the aisle for the next 4 hours. During musical chairs an American woman, the last to re-board the bus, was told that she was going to have to sit in the aisle. Her response, in English, "I'm not from the third world, I don't have to deal with this shit," hung heavy in the air for a few minutes till a young man from Colombia gave her his seat. Would I have given her my seat? Not at all, this is part of the party. I gave the man from Colombia my seat half way through the ride because he shouldn't of had to bear the privileged traveler's burden alone.

Is this cold of me? No. Traveling is hard, you have to constantly adjust to new situations and decipher implicit norms on the fly. This experience changes you, softens your straight lines and wears down those mental rough edged expectations you carry. That is exactly why I travel. For the metamorphosis it induces, however large or small.

Phew. That has been demasiado bus for me. May my primary form of transport for the next two months be ambulation or bicycle.