Princess

Do you remember the story of the Princess and the Pea? 

Well call me Princess then, because I could not get comfortable during my bus ride from Chachapoyas to Trujillo.  I wouldn’t really call it the bus ride from hell, (because we didn’t crash etc.) but it won’t be going into my “great experiences” file either. 

The bus was one of the long distance comfort busses, with cushy, deeply reclining seats and sleeper footrests.  Having done long distance bussing on such a wonder before I expected to be sleeping and/or merely bored for the 13 hour overnight journey. There was good baggage drop off service, and seats available in the waiting room.  I relinquished my initial perch when a lovely elderly village woman (typically dressed, including high topped handwoven grass hat) was led over to join the woman next to me… it was apparent that the seat was deservedly hers.

The waiting room filled with people of all sorts, and at one point there was a tiny elderly woman carried in and placed carefully on a quickly vacated seat.  My guess is she was a stroke victim, just sitting slumped and quiet as she was adjusted into an upright sitting position.  She looked strikingly like my mother sitting there, and visions of Mom filled my head as another wave of grief settled over me.  Blinking away the tears I watched her being gently attended to and thought of the many times I watched my sister do the same.

When boarding was called shortly thereafter I settled in and got set for the ride… my backpack under the seat and snacks & water in a bag by my feet.  There was even a handy beverage holder for my first bottle of water to sit at the ready.  I had plenty of personal space, as I had chosen a single seat which meant no sharing arm rests or having to crawl over someone to get to the isle (or vice versa).  We departed more or less on time, and I tracked our progress down the narrow and familiar streets in town. 

And this is where the princess thing comes in.  I could not get comfortable.  The strap of my money belt was restrictive, the buckle of the seat belt intruded, my clothes were pulling in the wrong directions and my travel pants rode up.  I couldn’t get my neck comfortable, so I meticulously unrolled the collars to stand up position and tugged the various layers upward to give my back some give.  The hood on my raincoat produced a fine ridge between my shoulder blades. My ponytail was in the way. I was too hot.  One layer discarded.  Stood up and pulled at the legs of my pants to try and get comfortable.  Once again smoothed the lay of my shirt and two fuzzies, then leaned forward to unroll the bottom of my pants to full length because they were under full scale attack by the mosquitoes that had boarded with us. 

By this time we had finished the winding road down into the valley and were on to the winding road in the valley along the river.  Relevance?   Nausea.  First of several Gravol on board, accompanied by a few bites of corn bread.   All the while loudly serenaded by the sounds of locally inspired, latin beat dance music.  From my individual, but unadjustable overhead speaker.   No opt out button either. 

So I found myself trying to relax and ignore the audio intrusion.  Then the lights were turned off and my eyes were assaulted by the large LCD screen, a painful glaring white as it listed the info and stats of the music still playing overhead. 

Are we there yet?

I am so packing earplugs and a sleep mask on my next journey. 

Enough reminiscing for the moment.  I will regale you with details of the balance of my fine excursion in another post.