Passing time in Ushuaia, Argentina

Ushuaia, Argentina is the southernmost tip of South America, they call this town "the end of the world". 

Well, it's definitely the end of the road for me. I'm wasting time here until my boat leaves for Antarctica. I found a quaint little hostel to stay at while I pass the time. 
As I'm sitting in the lounge area of my hostel, I look over and see a travel magazine on the wooden table next to me. I see in bold letters "THE 15 MOST DANGEROUS COUNTRIES TO VISIT". It catches my attention and I pick it up. As I flip through the pages, I realize that I've been to some of the places on the list. When I get to #11, I freeze. 
I see ANTARCTICA in big black letters. 
I'm shocked. 

Ushuaia

As I read on further, I learn that what makes it so dangerous is it's extreme isolation from the rest of the world. Not to mention the extreme weather and terrain. 
The nearest hospital is 2 days away. 
If anything happens down there, you're pretty much SOL. 
I confirm my fears a few days later when I have a lengthy conversation with the only doctor on our boat. I'll get to that later....

I love the wildflowers here

I had heard that you could find a killer deal for an Antarctica cruise if you showed up in Ushuaia in person. So here I am. Here to search for the best cruise available. I estimated the cruise would cost about $3,000- $4,000, from what I had read on the internet. I was prepared to spend that. However, when I arrived and started talking to different travel agents, the reality was that the cruise would be a lot more spendy. More like $6,000-$7,000. Youch. 
Better be worth it, I thought. 

My advice to you (if you happen to be a backpacker) is call the cruise agencies in Ushuaia ahead of time and book over the phone. Totally possible. Instead, I arrive and realize the soonest boat I can get on leaves in 2 weeks. 
When I first arrived in Ushuaia, I thought it was the cutest, quaintest town ever. "It reminds me of Alaska!", I told my friends and family. Snow capped mountains surrounded  the little town. It seemed like everyone knew everyone. After 2 weeks, I felt like I did too. I shopped at the local grocery store and cooked my own meals at the hostel. I took day trips to hike in the nearby national park, "Tierra del Fuego".  

Hiking around the national park

Ushuaia is a bit isolated itself, getting there and back will either take a lot of time or money. 
I wanted to fly back to Buenos Aires to explore a bit more, but I discover the plane tickets cost $600+. After shelling out $6,500 for my cruise, I was feeling a little tight with my money. 
Guess I'll just hang out here for a while.....
By the way, the company I ended up going with is called "Freestyle". I ended up choosing a Quark Expeditions boat to travel on. It was called the "Ocean Diamond". I would totally recommend them. Go see Sarah Scott at Freestyle, she's American, so you don't have to worry about the language barrier. She also speaks impeccable Spanish, just in case. She let me borrow her snow pants and a book. Very sweet girl. Very accommodating. Go see her!!

beautiful flowers growing in Ushuaia

Anyways, the novelty of Ushuaia wore off quickly. The weather was frigid some days, even though it was supposed to be their summer. Some days it would rain. At the end of the 2 weeks, I was totally stir-crazy and depressed. I had to get out!! I felt like a caged animal!!!
I don't want it to sound like the whole 2 weeks were a complete waste of my life. I mean, I was very productive at eating large amounts of yummy chocolate everyday, and I definitely got caught up on my sleep. 
I also walked about 5 miles daily and met some really nice people. 
Oh, and one night at the hostel a drunk Israeli got up in the middle of the night and peed on my shoes. They were next to my bed. And then the entire hostel awoke to my bloody murder scream. 
True story. 
Needless to say, the schnockered dude was kicked out. And I spent the next hour washing my shoes and then drying them out.
I felt so violated. 
Eww. 
I changed hostels the next day. 

I found some respite at a local coffee shop. They served the best chai lattes I've ever had in my life. I lived for those chai lattes. I found my sanity everyday in that little coffee shop. 
I wish I had a picture of that.....

Slowly, but surely, the day came for me to leave on my Antarctica cruise. That morning, I walked down to the boat dock and there she was.  "Quark Expeditions" was written on the side of this massive vessel. This was the boat that would bring me to my 7th continent. Goose bumps filled my skin. Antarctica, here I come!!!

Let me click my red heels together

I'm squeezed in the back of an old, rickety Land Cruiser, navigating through the countryside of Bolivia via gravel roads. There's a 20-something year old traveler from Southern California crammed in the back next to me. With every bump in the road, he seems to inch closer to me and I'm on the brink of vomiting from the putrid smell of the stale beers he drank last night. Surely he couldn't have brushed his teeth today. 

The monstrous ruts in the road created an unpleasant space in the back of the truck. The inexperienced 18 year-old Bolivian driver angered me with his risky driving. He obviously did not value his life or the life of his passengers. I repeatedly asked him to slow down, but to no avail. He swerved around llamas and drove at break-neck speeds, passing vehicles without a clear view of oncoming traffic. 

Get out of the way!

I wondered how we would ever make it back alive. With each bone-jarring bump, dirt seeped in through the cracks of the worn vehicle that had seen better days. I covered my mouth and nose with my scarf, keeping out the dust and bad breath spewing out of my neighbor that's nearly sitting on my lap by now. A headache develops and gets progressively excruciating. I have 8 more hours of this hell to endure. 
God, how did I get myself into this incredibly uncomfortable situation? 
Can I click the heels of my sparkly red shoes and go home now?
I was at the tail end of a 3 day/2 night typical gringo trail through Bolivia. 
Everything was going great, until now. 

Let's rewind.
The group I had been traveling with was dropped off at the Chilean border and I had to hitch a ride with another sub par tour company back to Uyuni. 
I had the pleasure of traveling with 3 other lovely people. A cute couple from Chile and a girl from The Netherlands, whom I met on a bus in Peru that was headed in the same direction as I was. 

Our guide/driver was Spanish speaking, so once again, my Spanish skills improved drastically in only a few short days. It's amazing how much you learn when you're forced to speak a language. 

Our guide

Our accommodations were not the Ritz-Carlton by any means. There were no showers available and the nights got bone chillingly cold. But, nobody minded if they stunk and there were always plenty of blankets to stack on top of us. 
Let me just say, if you are a prissy girl, I would not advise you to take this tour. Or even go to Bolivia. Period. 

This is what a typical tour is like:
Starting in Uyuni, a guide shuttles you to the salt flats, the "Salar de Uyuni", the biggest salt flats in the world, coming in at a whopping 4,000 square miles!
Whoa. 
The pictures looked so amazing! The brilliantly white ground and the reflection it made were enough to lure in any curious traveler. 
Then for the rest of the tour. 

Our Land Cruiser

The mystical lakes of reds, greens, and blues mesmerized me and earned Bolivia a space on my travel list. 
The views did not let me down. 
Bolivia is terribly undeveloped and frustrating to travel through, but it's topography makes up for it all.

The favorite part of the tour for me was frolicking in the salt flats. 
It's like another planet. An inch of water covered the salty surface of the flats. The horizon is nowhere to be found. The view leaves you silent, your brain is too busy soaking in the sights to speak. 
I ran like a gazelle through the white plains. With each jump, the salty water splashed my black leggings. 

I tasted the white crystals encrusted on my pants. Yep, it tasted like pure salt, as expected. 
There is something very special about this place. It was one of my favorite places in South America. 

After a few shenanigans and photo ops, we relaxed with a nice lunch prepared by our driver. 

We were at the mercy of the driver for our meals, there was no other food to buy in the desert. Bolivians are true blue carnivores and do not understand what vegetarians need to eat in order to meet an adequate daily protein intake. You will not consume enough protein on this tour if you are vegetarian. 
Just sayin'.
After we were done eating, it was off to explore unknown lands. 
We made frequent stops and were allowed ample time to marvel at the beauty that Bolivia beholds. 

Many of the stops included bright pink flamingos. I gazed at the beautiful creatures as they stepped so elegantly through the marshy wetlands with their spectacular pink feathered body perched on top of stick-thin legs. 

There were hundreds of flamingos at some of the stops. I floated quietly on the grass so I wouldn't disturb them. Listening to them talk, they made a very peculiar sound I've never heard before.  It's a cute little noise, like a cross between a gurgle and a chirp. They seemed entirely at peace wading in the water, picking at the brine and algae with their beaks. Their exotic S-shaped necks speckled the entire lake. Some flamingos were more vibrantly pink than others. I learn that it depends on their diet. The carotenoids. 
Another mystery solved. 

You wouldn't believe the color of the water at some of these lakes. 

It sure was breath-taking out there in the desert. Too bad Bolivia is so poor and lacks knowledge when it comes to tourism. 
I'm glad I saw it, but I have to say, I will probably never return.
The living conditions for a backpacker are horrendous, even with the most expensive tour company. 

At the end of the 8 hour highway-to-hell back to Uyuni, I peeled myself out of the back of the Land Cruiser. My clothes and backpack were covered with dust. I felt violated. It's extremely frustrating being completely out of control of your personal comfort. I had no choice but to grin and bear the uncomfortable ride back. After such a nice 2 days, it was a shame that the last day had to be so horrific.

I survived and it had made me stronger. 
It was definitely a turning point of my trip. I decided I had had enough of this third world business. I had big aspirations to travel to Chile, Easter Island, Uruguay and Brazil. But after Bolivia, I decided it was best to go straight to Antarctica, then home. 
6 months is a long time to be on the road. Sometimes you just need to go home and regroup, because it gets to a point where it's just not enjoyable anymore.
So I clicked my red heels and found myself in Argentina......

I'm over it

From Peru, Bolivia was next on the agenda.

Fact: Bolivia is the poorest country in South America.

Other travelers had told me Bolivia is very indigenous. I was thrilled by the thought of this. What more could a curious traveler ask for than raw indigenous-ism?! Yea, I know that's not a real word, but it helps me get my point across.
Bolivia was an unpleasant experience for me. No lie.
From the moment I stepped foot in the county, to the minute I left.
First of all, Bolivia throws a hefty $135 visa fee at you when you come knocking at their door. Do they charge any other country this fee? The answer would be a big fat NO.
Gee, thanks for being discriminatory, Bolivia.

He's over it too

I had heard that paying in American dollars at the border would save a lot of headaches.
Arriving by bus at the dumpy border, I patiently wait my turn in line. When my turn is up, I slap down my $135 on the counter in front of the customs agent. He examines my dollar bills like the owner of a pawn shop. He slides back one of my $20 and $5 bills and tells me they had tears on them and that he would not accept them. I scour the bills carefully and finally found the minuscule imperfections he was referring to.
"Are you serious?", I ask him seriously. (I learned how to say this in Spanish, since I say it a lot in English)
Yep. He was serious. After a few blatant eye rolls and scowls, I searched my bag for some more American money, which I hadn't used a whole lot of in the last 5 months.
He was lucky, or I was, because I found another $20 and $5 in the hidden pocket of my backpack.
He found these bills acceptable.... barely.

"What is up with the visa fee for Americans?!"

So, beware, if you are American and will be getting your visa at the Bolivian border, save yourself the stress and bring nice, crispy bills to keep the picky customs agents happy! :)

Making me pay a fortune to enter your poor county, then scrutinizing over my precious American dinero?
We are not getting off to a good start, Bolivia.
I'm over it. 
Seriously.
I'm really over it.
I felt a huge sense of dread fall over me. I had flashbacks of my travels through Laos, where I'm positive the man upstairs was testing me to the max.
I've learned to be a more patient person from traveling. 
Feeling impatient is a horrible feeling. It's something I really have to work at constantly.
A challenge loomed over me.
I had an uneasy feeling, but I decided to take on this difficult task. It would make me a stronger traveler.

I'll bet she's really patient

It wasn't that the people weren't nice. Cause they were.
It was the fact that Bolivia lacked all the conveniences of a first world country, which I was really craving at this moment.
Duh. It's dirt poor. Makes sense.
Pair this with the fact that this girl had hit a brick wall as far as traveling went.
I was so over it at this point.
Can you really blame me? After 5 months and one too many cold water showers, you start to reach a breaking point.
I know, I know, I sound like a spoiled first-world-country brat. You're perfectly right. 
I'm usually a pretty hardy traveler. I can handle the dirtiness and frustrations that come along with traveling in 3rd worlds. 
But there comes a point in every long-term travelers life where they want to throw in the towel. Some vagabonds crack from the pressures of navigating foreign lands solo.
I said SOME.
I am not included in this generalization.
Only the strong survive, and I, my friends, am strong. Therefore, I survive.
The show must goes on!!!

Stay tuned for the ups and downs that Bolivia brings!

What will happen when the heat is on??
Dut-dut-duuuunnnn

My eyeballs are floating

Before I hopped into a taxi in Cusco, Peru, I said goodbye to Dinh. We had no idea when we would see each other again. It was a sad farewell. It turned out to be 2.5 months. I waved goodbye to Dinh through the glass, then asked the driver to take me to the bus station where the buses go to Puno. I didn't realize he would bring me to the LOCAL bus station. Um... can you see I'm a gringa?

Hey there, cutie

Arriving at the bus station, I quickly scanned the area and got a bad feeling. It wasn't in the best part of town. 
With my head held high, I bounced along to the ticket window. I strongly believe that confidence wards off thoughts of evil acts by locals. 
I traversed the bus station and noticed it was crawling solely with brown hair and brown eyes. And a lot of them. There was a twinge of paranoia creeping into my mind.  
I fought the urge to blurt out, "What?! Never seen a white girl before?!"
After a little more investigation, I quickly discovered that there was not ONE single tourist in this busy bus station terminal. 

I felt a tad bit helpless. The possibility that things could turn sour were very real. I got a bad vibe, but I tried to push all the negative thoughts from my mind.

I bought a ticket for $7 to Puno. It was a 6 hour bus ride.
The man at the ticket counter said the bus left at 2 pm. I looked at my watch and it said 1:55. My big blue backpack bounced above my head as I scrambled as fast as I could around the local Peruvians. Once outside, I see a cluster of buses. 
Ok, which bus was mine? 
A fat man sitting on a stool pointed me in the right direction after I showed him my ticket. 
Short of breath from running and the altitude, I plopped into my seat, relieved. 
Even though I needed to use the toilet, I didn't dare get off the bus! I didn't need it leaving me with my bag on it!! Lordy Lordy, that would be a nightmare. (I've had it happen before!)

So 2:15 rolls around and the bus hadn't left yet. I think about how I could have peed like 20 times by now. The bus wasn't full. The driver was waiting for more passengers. I felt the air on the bus slowly change. People started to get impatient and restless. One by one, they started stamping their feet on the floor and yelling "vamos!" ("Let's go!") Then they started pounding on the sides of the bus. 

It was unbelievable. I started to get nervous, but at the same time I thought it was funny. This was complete lawlessness! You could never get away with this in the US! 
As I sat there, witnessing this naughty behavior, I thought, "I would have totally missed this side of Peruvians if I would have took the tourist bus."
Maybe they don't want you to see this side of Peru. They just want you to see pretty Machu Picchu, fork over your hefty fee, and then get out!!! I see how it is. 

Well, I'm a nosy traveler, and I gotta see the true side of a country, dang it!!!

I scrunched down in my seat a little and covered my mouth, stifling my nervous laughter. If they acted like this, what else were they capable of doing?
I pictured a riot breaking out. 

Oh man, why did Dinh have to leave me?!

All of a sudden, the bus rumbled with power as the driver gave in to the protests and started the engine. 

The really cool lime seats on the bus

For the next 3 hours, we drove through beautiful Peruvian landscape. Navigating through little villages situated in the mountains. There seemed to be a picture opportunity everywhere you looked. This is exactly what I pictured Peru to be. 

Countryside.... ahhhh

I sipped some water as I took in the views. 

One of the fun things about riding in chicken buses, is watching the vendors that board the bus, selling a hodge podge of things. 

Ladies with bright yellow bags suddenly invaded the bus. Everyone went crazy, yelling "aqui, aqui!" ("Here, here!") The ladies feverishly handed out the yellow bags and collected their money. 
The locals looked very excited about the bags. The looks on their faces were like they had won the lottery.
I was in amazement over the entire situation. 
After squinting hard enough, I discovered that in the bag there were breads the size of a steering wheel! 
I wondered if I was missing out on something big here. I contemplated buying a wheel, then decided against it. They carefully stored their precious bundles in the overhead compartments. The guy in front of me tied his to the curtain rope and for the rest of the journey it bounced with every bump on the road. Bright yellow plastic bags decorated the bus, giving it a cheery feel. 

On the next stop, a man came on and began preaching loudly in Spanish at the front of the bus. I listened carefully and discovered that he was selling a green powder that was supposed to be as good for you as vegetables, combating everything from arthritis to breast cancer. After about 45 minutes and only a couple of sales, the man exited the bus. 
I drank a little more water. 

I was pleased with myself, being able to understand the man's lecture in Spanish. My Spanish was definitely improving. 
I was the only English speaking person on this bus. 

3 hours passed and there was no bathroom break. This was no luxury ride. But what do you expect for only $7?
Did I mention I had drank coffee that morning?
I was having a VERY hard time holding my pee. I think the person before me did too, judging by the strong smell of urine emanating from the seat cushion. I felt every bump. I tried to distract myself, but it wasn't working. 
I asked the lady next to me when the next bathroom stop was. She didn't know. Finally, after my eyeballs were floating in urine, I went to the front of the bus and knocked on the glass door. I saw the ticket man try to shoo me away with his hand. I knocked again. This was important. He swung the door open and looked at me with a crease between his eyes. I smiled at him, held my stomach and asked in Spanish when the bathroom stop was. He said 30 minutes, in a gruff voice. "Segura? Mucho dolor!" (Are you sure? It's very painful!) I responded. He nodded his head and quickly slammed the door shut. 

I limped back to my seat with a look of agony on my face. I thought about what the locals would think if I peed in the plastic bag I had from my banana, or hang my butt out the window and let it go. 
I was thinking crazy thoughts. I had to pee SO badly!!! I can't remember the last time I had to pee this bad. 
I watched the clock closely. It was the longest 30 minutes of my life. 
I talked to the lady and her 4-year old daughter sitting next to me to pass the time. 
After 35 minutes, the bus finally pulled into the bus station. I'm the first one off and the ticket man points in the direction of the toilet. I make a bee-line to the first toilet I saw, which happened to be the men's. I didn't care. I saw a toilet and I ran to it. I heard snickering as I was dumping my gallon of pee into the toilet. It was the biggest feeling of relief you can imagine. I swear I peed for a minute straight! I walked out and see other local men in the bathroom. I had no shame. I felt like a million bucks. 

Pleased to meet you, Machu Picchu!

Machu Picchu, one of the 7 wonders of the world, the lost city of the Incas. What exactly was Machu Picchu? We don't really know for sure. There are many theories. Some say it was a vacation home for the Inca emperor. Others say it was a sacred place. 
Who the heck knows what it really was, but I had to see it!!
I was dead set on hiking the Inca trail. Yep. That's what I was going to do. I daydreamed about it with a twinkle in my eye. "Oh I just can't wait to hike the Inca trail one day", I thought in a dreamy state of mind. 

Lovebirds

After doing lots of research on the internet, my dreams came crashing down. Wha whan!!!
Mostly everyone was saying that the hike wasn't that great and that they could have done without it. 
I usually don't listen to people when they say a place sucks or something isn't that great. However, this time I had no choice. The Inca trail closes for the month of February. Guess what day Dinh and I got to Machu Picchu? February 1st. 
No hiking for us. 

We were pretty savvy about the cost, I should say. There is the option to take an outrageously expensive train to Machu Picchu. They say it's the most expensive train in the world, and I believe it. There was no way I was going to get suckered into taking such a touristy thing. Not this traveler. 
So I searched and searched on the internet and come to find out, you can actually do MP on your own for very cheap!
Cheap?
Somebody say CHEAP? Music to my ears. Just kidding. Well, music to Dinh's ears anyways. 
This is what we did: In Cusco, we bought a ticket to Machu Piccu for $60 from the ministry of culture. It's a permit thats only good for one day. Then, from Cusco, we took a collectivo (a van) to Santa Maria for $10, then took a taxi from there to Santa Theresa, which cost another piddly $3. We spent the night in Santa Theresa and the next morning, we took a taxi to Hidroelectrica, which is only a few miles away. At Hidroelectrica, we walked 3 hours along the railroad tracks to Agua Calientes. 

Life with only a backpack, is good

It was a beautiful hike along a river. We even had a friendly dog following us the entire time!
The next morning, we took the tourist bus up the zig zagging road to Machu Picchu for $17. Get off the bus, walk a short ways, and there she is to greet you. 
Machu Picchu, so nice to meet you!
We hiked about 45 minutes to the Gate of the Sun. But it was so cloudy that we couldn't see a thing. At least we got our cardio in for the day. 
You're free to roam around the sites all you want. I recommend getting there early, it gets super packed by 10 am. We were there by 7 am. It can become a competition to get pictures from the good view points. I'm not really the competitive type, and I surely don't prefer large crowds, so we bailed when it got busy. We were satisfied with our photos. 
It was pretty breathtaking to see. I couldn't believe I was actually there. 
This goes to show that Machu Picchu doesn't have to cost you a months salary to see. Take it from me!!

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.