The Road to Nowhere

I took my 9 hour bus journey from Trujillo to Talara in a local bus called 'El Dorado'. Before entering the bus, passengers had to make sure they'd no guns on their possession. A fingerprint had to be taken which was attached to a piece of paper with your seat number on it. I was the only white 'gringa' female on the whole journey. The bus was quite old; air conditioning was turned on by opening the windows and the flies and smell of arses were included in the price. It did have one working TV at the front which continuously showed 3 films of 'George de la selva' (George of the Jungle) and one actually repeated itself in the course of the journey. Never before have I seen George of the Jungle and never again do I want to see it.  The sound was deafening and there was a constant whirring noise on the TV. 


The bus was full and a girl in her mid 20's sat beside me. As soon as she sat down, I could have sworn she had a kipper in her bag; either that or she'd some sort of infection. Jaysus, the smell of fish was wild, and it disappeared as she left the bus. In the seat across from me sat a man in his 50's who constantly gobbed (spat up phlegm) the whole way there, either on the floor or the seat in front of him.  At every toll, people got on selling food/drinks (I stuck to my ham baps) and of course, fishy beside me, fed her face at each stop and fell asleep after her food had disappeared down her oesophagus (obviously her body was exhausted from all the digesting it was doing).  


We drove through endless desert upon desert. Looking out the window each time, the scenery never seemed to change. I moved seats once darkness had arrived, as lots of people got off at the stop prior to mine and some weird, local guy decided to sit beside me, replacing the guy who was gobbing and kept staring at me. Naturally, I gave him the 'WTF look' and moved to another seat .  I eventually arrived in Talara to streets full of moto-taxis - it was like being back in Thailand again for a short while. The moto-taxis were unable to take me to my place of rest in the desert as the sand was too much for their little tyres. So I managed to find a taxi car to take me, which was expensive, but I didn't care as I just wanted to arrive in Lobitos as I was tired.


On entering Lobitos, there is a military check-point, which I already knew about. However, stopping at this check-point, I could hear the soldiers telling the driver that the house I was going to HelpX in was closed. Naturally, in my head, I was like, no - it's ok, of course it's not closed as I was in contact with them via email before I left Trujillo.
I arrived at the driveway of the house (this place really was in the middle of nowhere/desert) only to be greeted by two armed soldiers with a dog.  The taxi driver told them I was an 'amiga' of the owners and they exchanged words and I could still hear them saying it was closed. I asked them if it was ok if I could get out and speak to the people in the house. I was then followed by these armed guards to the front door; which was a window. The soldiers prohibited me from entering and I had to sit on the bench outside the window and talk to the people through it.


The owner had apparently gone to Lima on Tuesday and couldn't seem to be contacted by phone, email or facebook. In the house were 5 HelpXers (the 2 main people I was in contact with via email were from Germany - Sebastian and Andrea; hippy looking people, with dread locks in their hair; another guy from France, who had arrived in the morning and was quite shy and obviously in shock at the soldiers being outside the house. He went to bed...probably wondering how to get the hell out). There were 3 other guys there, who were in Lobitos to surf.  Naturally, at the start, I wasn't too concerned and thought that the soldiers had to 'ok' my arrival, as the area is used as a military base.


Time passed, and Sebastian, the German, spoke to the soldiers and still, I wasn't allowed in. This time there were 5 of them around me, talking on their walkie talkies, disappearing into the darkness, then re-appearing again to make sure I hadn't entered.  I didn't feel threatened by them (maybe the Police and military presence around good aul N.Ireland had something to do with that). By this stage I was wrecked, and Jack the Ripper could've been standing in front of me and I wouldn't have been bothered.


Whilst sitting there, I got to chat to the Andrea, the German girl and she said that as soon as the owner left on Tuesday, the military swooped into the house, cordoned off the place (with that type of sticky tape the cops use when there has been a murder scene...which was still visible on all of the doors - probably why I couldn't get in a door and had to sit at a window).  They wanted to know who was in the house, questioned them and went into every room taking photos and not allowing people to enter.  Now, by this stage, I was getting a bit suspicious. It's like the people inside were under some sort of house arrest (even though I'm sure they weren't) and then there was dopey me, sitting outside trying to get in.


Time passed and still under no circumstances, was I allowed in and there was to be no more than 8 people inside. It was a night on the desert for me then. I was escorted off the premises by armed soldiers with their fat perro (dog) in tow and it didn't matter to them that I was by myself, female, and had nowhere to stay. Even my 'pretty please' in Spanish didn't swing it for me. A tiny bit of me wanted to try and bribe them, but I chickened out. Later, Sebastian and Andrea came and said they knew of a place nearby that I could stay. There was a wee surf hostel located down the sandy pathway that was able to accommodate me for the night. The HelpX house paid for my night and told me to come back the next morning. Even after everything that had happened, they were still desperate to get me back into that house the next day (?), which was a bit strange alright.


I slept in the nice surf hostel and got to waken to the sound of the waves; but as soon as I got up and had a look outside (i.e. sand with oil rigs dotted over the place) and saw my other house on the hill; I decided, enough was enough - time to leave. Even if I wanted to stay, there was no way the military would let me and I didn't fancy a bullet to the head if I tried to enter the house.  The wee hostel I stayed in was very basic but nice; full of surfers who were friendly and I met a nice guy called Elmo, who was finishing his surfing there after 3 months and was looking to get into Talara to get a bus to Lima. He told me that there was always something not right about the house I was meant to be in and advised me to stay well away. 


I took his advice and decided to get a combi (without saying goodbye to the others in the HelpX house) with him to the nearest Cruz del Sur bus station here (there was no way I was jumping on the local 'El Dorado' bus again). I decided to spend a few extra Soles in comfort and safety on my next journey.  The only Cruz del Sur bus out of this place goes direct to Lima. If I wanted to get to the border of Ecuador with some bus company/border crossing, I'd have to take the local dodgy buses; but have been well warned off these as the border crossings are dangerous and can be quite hairy if you take the wrong bus. I think I've had my fill for one day and Lima sounds great - so I'm taking the next fancy bus out of here back to the city of Lima. God knows where after this; I'll figure out something on my 18 hour journey back to Lima (I could swear Cusco is trying to pull me back again - how dare it!!).


If this had happened to me 4 years ago, I probably would've been on the first flight home. Now, I don't get too bothered - always another extra story to tell. I think the last year of travel has definitely chilled me out - great stuff!