22 hour bus ride from hell

I'm in a rusty white pick-up truck. A Latino man is driving and I'm sitting in the back seat. He starts to back up. A police lady is directing him. She waves her hand, signaling him to back up, then gives the "stop" signal... but he keeps backing up. We are on a steep cliff and soon we find ourselves teetering on the edge. I start to panic. The driver keeps backing up. "What's wrong with this guy?!", I think hysterically. 

Soon I feel the weight of the truck shift. It slides down the rocky mountain. The tail end of the truck catches on the rocks and soon the truck is upside down in mid air. The roof is about to crash onto the ground, with us in the middle. Everything goes in very slow motion. At this point, I know it's the last second of my life. 

I will be smooshed by the weight of the truck. I feel an overwhelming amount of anxiety, yet an incredible sense of clarity. "I don't want it to be over yet!!! I'm not ready to die!!! This is so unfair!!! I have so much to do!!! This stupid guy just killed me!!", are the thoughts that run rampant in my mind. 
A millisecond before the truck crushes our skulls and snaps our necks, I wake up. 

I feel uncomfortable and anxious. I can't fall back asleep. I snuggle up to Dinh. I feel so grateful to be living. Wow, that dream really sucked. 
Do you know what sucks even more? Having the same dream a few nights later. 
It really bothered me and I wondered if there was an ulterior meaning to the dream. 

 About a week later, I find myself on a bus traveling from Lima to Cusco. 
Dinh is with, but only because I begged him to give the whole long bus ride thing another try. He didn't do so good on the 24 hour bus from Baños to Lima. I promised him this one would be different. 

The bus left promptly at 7 pm. I was totally prepared with plenty of snacks, water and entertainment. We had 22 hours between us and Cusco. 
Twenty-two long, dreadful hours. 

About 4 hours into the bus ride from hell, Dinh was muttering "This is the worst mistake of my life", over and over. 
I knew this could never be a good thing. 
I kept reminding him to be optimistic and that we can all choose our attitudes.
He was blessed with the motion sickness gene and was fully feeling the benefits of it. 

I was actually enjoying the ride. You can see so much more of a country when you travel by land. We traversed through multiple small indigenous towns, witnessing life that we would have missed otherwise. 

But Dinh didn't seem to notice any happenings outside. He looked like he was in a trance. I've never seen him this miserable. I patted his head with a cold wash cloth, offered him snacks, and tried to distract him. All of my attempts were in vain. 

As the bus ride progressed, the road got windier. The little girl behind me starting ralphing and her mom struggled to catch all the vomit in a little plastic bag. "Aye yai yai, niña", I heard the mom say. 
Like dominoes, more and more passengers became sick. You could hear multiple people throwing up in the rows behind us as their stomachs swayed from one side to the next. 

The "double decker puking bus" creeped higher into the mountains and into thinner air as the night progressed. I covered up with a blanket as the outside air dropped drastically. Night fell and I closed my eyes for a little rest. Less than an hour later, I was stirred awake from the strong pull of the bus from side to side. We were going through the mountains on a hairpin-turn road and we were being violently thrown from one side to the other. 
I didn't sleep much that night. 

I wiped away the fog on the window and looked out with tired eyes. My stomach turned as I looked down. Only a few inches stood between us and a very steep rocky drop. I saw a white wooden cross on at least every other turn, signifying that someone had died there. This road had taken many lives and I feared it would take ours. 

My reoccurring dream came to mind and my heart started to beat hard. So this is what it was trying to tell me! Our bus was going to go over a cliff and kill us! 
I sat in intense fear. It was the middle of the night and I was on a crazy train. I wanted so badly to make the driver stop. By the way, who was the driver?? Is he falling asleep?? Is he young and reckless?? I wanted to know!!
I didn't want to be a part of this risky business anymore!! I haven't even had the chance to be a mom yet!!!

I looked over at Dinh and watched as he stirred awake. Yikes, the motion sickness meds were wearing off! I thought that if he stayed drugged up he could make it through the miserable journey, but he was awake now. Even worse, he was threatening to get off the bus at the next stop. He was talking crazy and it was scaring me. He wasn't himself, at all. 
The bus would stop periodically for locals, letting them catch a lift to the next town. 

I started to worry about how I was going to take care of Dinh because he wasn't thinking rationally. He didn't even have a coat and there were big patches of snow outside. He would freeze to death out there! If I went with him, we would lose our bags that were piled underneath everyone else's bag under the bus. There was no way they would let us dig them out in the middle of the night, hanging precariously over the edge of a mountain. No siree!

The motion sickness meds were making him loopy. I decided I would have to physically restrain him if the bus came to a stop, like we do with psych patients that are on a 24 hour hold because they are a danger to themselves. Dinh was crazy at this point and I was his POA. I had a responsibility.
I was nervous for the next 3 hours straight. 
"Maybe you should take some more medicine?", I urged him, hoping he would zonk out again. 
"God, what I would give for some Phenergan right now!", I thought. That would knock him out cold and solve this nightmare of a problem. 

He eventually closed his eyes and went to a happier place for a while. 

In the morning, he started griping about how miserable he was again. I actually wished that he would have gotten off the bus the night before, because then I wouldn't have to listen to him. Ha.

Men.

The bus finally came to a halt the next day. I had not fallen to the same fate as in my dream. 
It felt like we had spent an eternity on that bus. We disembarked and enjoyed the freedom of walking and stretching our legs. Our bodies were mad at us for cooping them up for so long. 

Traveling through third world countries can be very unsettling at times. The safety standards are not anywhere near the United States. For all I know, the driver of the bus was drinking whiskey (which happens all too frequently in South America). 

Here it is.... THE bus

This bus journey was a turning point in the trip. Dinh swore to himself he would never put himself through this kind of punishment. He would never get on one of those miserable buses again. 
I could hardly blame him. 
Because South America requires frequent long bus journey, this meant it was the end of the trip for Dinh. 

But the show must go on!!! I will continue the trip on my own..... again. 

South America is for hardy backpackers, and I'm afraid to say, but Dinh just wasn't cut out for it. 

Word to the wise: if you are traveling from Lima to Cusco, for the love of GOD, fly instead of taking the bus. It costs the same and your life won't be in nearly as much danger. Your nonexistent children will thank you.

The middle of the world, the equator

Apparently the center of the world is pretty interesting. When we visited Quito, Ecuador, the equator was a must-do activity. When we got there, we were blown away by all the education we received that day. 

Here are some of the mind boggling knowledge we filled our heads with that day:

The Incas had a handy dandy sun dial which was made from a nail and a piece of stone. From this, they could tell the time. Ahead of their time, I tell ya. 

We had an obligatory guide that was full of fun facts. 
He showed us how the water in an eddy would swirl clockwise on one side of the line and counter clockwise on the other. Groovy stuff, man. 

Ecuador actually means equator in Spanish. 

You can try to balance an egg on the top of a nail at the equator. If you succeed, you get a certificate. Dinh succeeded. 

Our guide said that it was impossible to walk along the equator with your eyes closed and arms out. Dinh and I tested if out for ourselves, and sure enough, we both walked like a couple of drunks. We would have failed the sobriety test miserably. At first I thought it was a sneaky trick they played to make the equator seem a little more interesting than it really was. 
But, I can attest firsthand to the off-balance properties of this "special" line. As I was standing on the big red line that depicted the actual 0 degree equator, I took my camera out of my backpack to snap a few photos. I lost my balance and also the grip of my camera. In slow motion, I fumbled with my camera in mid air, "nnnnooooooo!!!!" until eventually it crashed hard on the cement ground. I watched in horror. Crrrrrruuunnnccchhhh!!
Oh, that didn't sound good. 
I picked it up and inspected the damage. The LED screen was broken with multiple horizontal black lines obstructing the screen. Crap. 

I was thankful that the camera still worked, even though it wasn't as cosmetically pretty as it was before. Beings it was a more expensive  camera, a few choice words came to mind. 
I moped for a few minutes and Dinh kept apologizing that it happened, even though he had nothing to do with it. 
Although it was unfortunate that it happened, it honestly put me in check. Materialistic things can be replaced. We shouldn't become so attached to them. I can always buy a new camera, I just have to work a few more shifts, that's all. 
So, please, take care with your camera if you visit the equator line!!

on the way back

Also, make sure you go to the real equator. There is another site that claims to be the equator, but it is not the real McCoy. 

Overall, I thought the whole thing was pretty cheesy. But, it's kind of a must see, so we went. Oh well, I guess we can say we were there. 

Goofy South America dance video

In case you didn't know, I'm a big dork. At times, it can be hard to resist the temptation to act silly. But what would life be without goofiness?!

I hope this video makes you smile :)

Baños, and I don't mean bathroom

When I emailed my mom and told her I was taking a 7 hour bus ride to Baños, she replied something like, "whoa, that's a long time to go without a bathroom. Make sure you go before you leave!" 
I did a face-palm plant and wrote back, "No, Baños is the name of the town! Lol ". 
Baños does mean bathroom in Spanish. I haven't the foggiest idea why someone would name a town such a thing. 
Baños is located in central Ecuador. It's a cute backpacker's hub that creates a comfortable place to lay your head for a few days.

 I'm not going to tell you about the famous taffy that's made here, and how you can see locals stretching the taffy on wooden pegs on the door frame of their shops. 

I'm also not going to talk about the local hot springs here that are nice to soak your bones in. 
But I AM going to tell you about a cute-as-a-button little old lady we encountered!
Sometimes when Dinh and I would see homeless elderly people in Central America, looking particularity poor and skinny, we would buy them a much needed hot meal.  
They seemed thankful, although some of them had a hard time expressing themselves due to psychological disorders. We felt better knowing that they would have at least one hot meal that day. 
We were wandering around the center of Baños when we spotted The Itty Bitty Lady. As she brushed passed me, I looked down and saw her for the first time. 

I covered my mouth, muffling my squeals. She was so tiny, I fought the urge to run up to her and pick her up! 
Please tell me you've felt this before. 
I was at least twice as tall as her. She was hobbit-like small. 
We followed her, acting like undercover cops. Well, Dinh was less conspicuous than I was. 
I snapped some photos of her, being careful not to blow our cover. But, she didn't seem to know we even existed. 

After I did a little shopping, and Dinh did a little patient waiting, we returned to the street. The little lady caught our eyes again. Sitting on the sidewalk, her legs were curled up underneath her body with her old raggedy wool blanket covering her tiny body, exposing only her face. Her cane was propped next to her and, strangely, she had a aluminum pot with her. She kept herself entertained by watching tourists pass her by. Dread locked Israeli's with baggy pants sashayed past her, not giving her a second glance. How could you miss one of the cutest ladies in town?!! Maybe she was too small to be seen?
Suddenly Dinh suggested, "c'mon, we have to go get her a hot meal." 
"Oh yea, why didn't I think of that?", I thought. 
We made our way to the local market about a block away. There was lots of funky foods here. You could buy guinea pig, as well as all kinds of exotic fruits, some we had never even seen before. 
We had eaten here a few times while staying in Baños, and each time we were shoulder to shoulder with locals. This was the perfect spot to chow down.  

We chose a chicken soup with hearty chucks of chicken and loads of vegetables for The Itty Bitty Lady. Asking the cook for a spoon, we set off with our soup in a styrofoam bowl. It was an exceptionally large bowl. 
"There's no way she can eat all of that, it's made for a family of 6!", I joked. 
"Oh well, let her deal with that", was Dinh's response.
I prayed she was still in the spot we saw her last. 
Sure enough, she was there, sitting in the same position. 
Only her head moved as she people watched. 
"Here, you go give it to her", Dinh instructed as he placed the bowl in my hands. 
A woman is less threatening. 
I crossed the street, not knowing how she would react to our generosity. 
While crossing the street, I rehearsed what I would say to her in Spanish. 
As I approached the teeny grandma, I squatted low, getting down to her level.
Her wise old eyes focused on me. There were large black moles speckled around her eyes. 

On my haunches, I handed her the plastic bag containing the soup and spoon. 
"Good morning lady. Here, we bought this soup for you", I told her in Spanish.
She took the soup and placed it on the sidewalk in front of her. She started speaking a dialect I didn't understand. It was definitely not Spanish. She was indigenous and probably speaking a language very few people speak. I smiled warmly at her as she rambled on. She didn't show much emotion in her facial expressions. The tone of her voice suggested she was talking about everyday stuff, but I had no way of knowing. 
I smiled and nodded some more, then waved goodbye and slowly stood up to walk across the street towards Dinh. We pretended to shop a couple doors down so we could do a little more spying on her. She couldn't see us. I practically held my breath as I watched her peel off the lid to the styrofoam bowl and inspect the contents. Would she eat it?......

It must have been to her liking, because she dug out her own personal spoon and started gobbling it down. We laughed at the size of her wooden spoon, almost too big to fit in her little mouth. 
"Haha, look, she has her own spoon", Dinh chuckled. 
We watched her for a while and then decided to let her enjoy her meal in peace. We walked away with warmed hearts, knowing she would have a full stomach that day. We had done our good deed. 
It is so easy for a first world person to help third world people. 
Forget the touristy attractions, it's the interactions with the locals that really make the most precious traveling memories. 
This is my fondest memory of Baños.