On the bus

Overnight, I took an 11 hour bus ride from Chiclayo to Chachapoyas. Here's what it was like:

Actually, it wasn't like that in the slightest. There was music, but it was coming from the radio of a young man sitting near me, and instead of making me want to dance it made me want to curl up in a ball and cry.

Here's what it was actually like:

The ride and duration were actually similar. However, we lacked a Keanu Reeves figure to maintain order, and the driver wasn't nearly as hot as Sandra Bullock. He was more of a Paul Giamatti type. Try sleeping through this sort of thing, by the way.

After carefully considering the options, I think this reflects my general bus riding experience overnight:

In which I'm Steve Martin or Martin Short. I prefer Martin Short; Steve Martin is funny, don't get me wrong, but I find Martin Short to be a much more accessible comedian, even if he isn't quite as brilliant. But the bus was at least 10 or 15 degrees hotter on the inside than on the outside, on account of the fact that there were over 50 of us crammed together in seats that sort of reclined and without air conditioning or openable windows. Now, I paid about $11 for the bus ride, so I got exactly what I paid for. I did have water, thankfully, and lip balm, but I have since booked a return trip for tomorrow that should be much kinder.

Hope all is well at home.