Beaches, Borders, and Brutality

Today we arrived in the final country we shall be visiting during this trip, Ecuador. However, prior to this we spent 4 days at two beaches along the Northern Coast of Peru. It was a welcomed change of pace. The first two days we spent at a beach near Trujillo called Huanaco, the atmosphere was very relaxed, and tourists were few. It was the perfect setting to swim, unwind, eat, and drink. Although the beach itself was not as nice as anything we have at home, save perhaps Glenelg, we had a very pleasant time doing very little at all.

From here we headed to the surf beach Mancora. It was an eight hour bus trip at night, and we were awoken early in the morning tired and disoriented upon arrival. It was still dark, but we were immediately inundated by copious amounts of taxi drivers offering us a lift to our hostel. We chose one at random, really quite overwhelmed by the whole ordeal, as we were still half asleep. He took us to his taxi, and we realised it was nothing more than a took took. A motorcycle with a tiny carriage dragged behind it. A little unsure of how we were all going to fit with our luggage, our driver took care of everything, and before we knew it we were speeding along into the sunrise. Our hostel was situated right on the beach front and being a Sunday morning, music from Saturday night partying was still pumping loudly. This, along with the rising sun, and the drive along the shoreline with the crashing ocean metres away, made for a most surreal experience in our sleepy daze.

Mancora was a very nice beach, but much more of a touristy destination. We made the most of our time there by hanging out with a friend from our GAP tour, working on our sunburns, swimming, drinking, eating hamburgers, drinking some more on the beach, and sleeping a lot. We took it so easy that none of us could even be bothered taking a single photo, so you´ll have to take my word for it that it was a nice place.

This morning we sadly farewelled our friend from the GAP tour, and jumped on a bus to head to Ecuador. By pure chance we got on the same bus as another GAP group we had met earlier, and had come to know quite well. As such we gained the benefits of being in a GAP tour without paying for it. Which proved to be quite fruitful for us seeing as crossing the border between Peru and Ecuador turned out to be most trecherous. As our bus approached the border we all got our passports and papers ready, and as we stepped off the bus all these official looking men were demanding us our passports. A little dazed by it all I obliged immediately. Luckily for me the GAP leader snatched it from his hands, and then proceeded to do the same for almost half the group as they made the same mistake I had, some passports had to be chased down, but luckily all were recovered. We were all then sternly told not to give our passports to anybody, excpet those actually inside the immigration booths. It was yet another close call that turned out well for me.

The bus trip into Ecuador was spectacular, the scenery was notcibly greener, lusher, and basically more tropical. We arrived at Cuenca many hours later, and have only just now booked into a really cosy hostel in the centre of the city. Quite tired, the three of us have thus far struggled to get our heads around the new currency, which is in fact US dollars. It´s strange changing to a currency that is actually worth something, especially when the country using it is relatively poor. You end up paying $2 US for a large meal, but are still unsure as to whether that´s a good deal comparitively to other countries we have been to. However, I am sure we shall soon adjust.

I´d now like to finish this entry on a spectacularly horrifying note. This actually took place on the bus trip between Pisco and Lima, but it was so disturbing that it had been deeply repressed at the time of the last entry. The bus trip in question shall be dubbed the bus trip of death, for which I, sitting in the frontmost seat, had the best view for. Some time into this relativley lenghty journey, we unexpectedly hit three birds flying in formation. It was a shock, as hitting birds always is, but hitting three was expectedly somewhat more disturbing than hitting one bird. Especially as I saw that at least two of them met a most gruesome, although admittedly sudden death. So yes it was a shock, but as I am sure you are all thinking, it was also something that you get over relatively quickly. However, this was only to be an appetiser to what would become the main course of disturbingness I would witness on this journey. For roughly one hour later I watched happily as two beautiful black sheep dogs, no more than two years of age frolicked gleefully together as they played some yards ahead of the bus. As one gave chase to the other, the pup playing the evader darted unexpectedly out on to the road, directly in front of a double decker bus travelling at at least 100km an hour.

Watching a dog get hit by a bus travelling at that speed is a somewhat sobering experience to say the least. It certainly gave me a reality check, for I realised that if it were me getting hit by that bus at that speed, I would not stand a chance of surviving, and those with a weak stomach or a particular fondness for dogs may be well advised to stop reading and see me at the next entry. At the moment that dog was hit by that bus, it ceased to be a dog, and instead became nothing more than flesh and entrails flying in every direction. To do no more than retell exactly what I recall seeing, for one brief moment I swear I saw a large proportion of the dogs insides escape out of its mouth. Some parts of the dog flew clear of the bus, a much larger part got tangled up in the wheels, and afterwards what was left behind was a five metre blast radius of what was moments before a seemingly untroubled dog.

Everyone in the bus witnessed the aftermath, I was the only one who caught the whole horrific ordeal in its gruesome entirety. And many of those who witnessed the aftermath went as far to say, what in God´s name did that used to be. For me though, the most hearbreaking moment of the entire ordeal was watching this pup´s playmate nudge a larger portion of the carcas, whilst looking noticibly distressed at the loss of his friend. Either that or he was hungry.

The whole thing was of course over in seconds. Yet needless to say I was mortified, and remained somewhat quieter for the remainder of the journey. So, sorry to put you all through that, but it was somewhat cathartic for me. If it bothered you in any meaningful way, maybe retelling the story and disturbing a bunch of other people could be as helpful to you as it was for me in moving on from it all. If not, tough nuts!

Till next time,

Chuckles Mc Chuckleton