Have you ever had a day that started off terribly and you just knew it was going to get from bad to worse? It finally happened to me, the eternal optimist. After the Galapagos, we decided it would be a fine idea to save cash and bus the 1200 km from Guayaquil to Lima. We had to make a stopover in the town of Piura, and getting there was horrendous, including forcing everyone out of the bus in the middle of the night, not once but twice, to declare our border crossing to the Ecuadorian and Peruvian authorities.
At 5 in the morning, we were herded out of the bus when we reached Piura. I groggily looked around and saw that we were trapped in some type of horribly dank and filthy holding cell. I heard a clanging noise and saw that a 5 m high iron-barred gate had slammed shut, locking us in. And then I realized that the worst had happened - we were being rounded up to become prisoners at a Peruvian forced labour camp. Or, almost as bad, we were stranded in a subpar bus terminal in South America. I looked for the exit, and then a guard approached me and said ´No señorita, it´s too dangerous to go out.´ He also informed me that the next bus to Lima wasn´t leaving until 3pm. Dear god! 10 hours trapped in this hellhole!
Eventually we learned that there were other bus terminals in town, and took a taxi to Flores, which wasn`t so bad because it had windows and MTV. We stood around awkwardly with our huge packs, pondering our next move. I guess the security guard there took pity on us because he suggested that we sit down and rest, and explained that we could leave our bags behind if we wanted to walk around town. Wander around a possibly dangerous unknown city with basic Spanish or sit and wait for hours? The choice was clear.
So we set off along the dusty, deserted streets of Piura in search of something to do. It started raining, of course. Eventually we came across a bustling family restaurant that smelled delecious, so we sat down for what turned out to be a satisfying breakfast. When it doubt, eat where the locals eat. Then we walked around and found a tourist information booth where they actually spoke English! A guide explained how to get around town and what sights to see. We went to the Museo del Vicus, which displays Incan artifacts. Little did we know that we would be the most interesting exhibits there...
In the museum, I sat down to study the city map. Then I heard giggling and a schoolgirl came up to and asked ´Español?` I told her I was Canadian and she went back to friends. Within seconds she came back and brought ten others who surrounded me and started asking me questions. I looked around, terrified... what did they want? My money? My bags? Meghan came back from the washroom and they pressed in around us, asking our names, why we were here, where were we from? We realized that they were kids on a school trip, just curious about these two huge Canadians visiting their town. Even the teacher emerged and shook our hands, asking if we like Piura. The girls produced notebooks - apparently they all wanted our email addresses? We signed them like celebrities giving autographs. Someone said they wanted to take pictures with them, so we posed with the entire class multiple times. Then it was time for them to leave and they all kissed and hugged us goodbye.
As the day unfolded, we managed to book flights to Cusco and back, found a decent pharmacy to buy anti-explosive-diarrhea pills and exchanged money for Peruvian nuevo sols. Our greatest find was the local shopping mall. It turns out it isn´t so hard to get your bearings and kill a day in a small town in South America. The weather turned out to be pretty terrific, too.
Conquered: Peru border crossing. Next stop: the jungle.
Eternally optimistic,
V
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