Now THIS is a peruvian bus ride...

Our 7 hour bus ride started in Cusco at 8:00 Thursday morning and arrived in Puno at 6:00 in the evening. Driving through the sierra, the countryside between the two cities, reminded me of driving in Alberta; except when I saw those flamingoes bathing ponds in the fields. A apron-clad lady on the bus sold papas rellenas. Papa rellena is mashed potato filled with chicken, vegetables and egg and then baked. Best served on a long and bumpy bus ride to Puno hot out of a basket with fresh salsa. The delay started in Juliaca. At this point we were still on the main highway. The bus stopped, as it had a few times before, only this time we sat in the baking sun for an hour. When I looked out the window I saw a line of buses and cars about a kilometre long stopped ahead of us. Local vendors, always ready to make a sale, were taking advantage of the traffic jam by hawking all kinds of food to the people on the buses... the most tempting being the ice cream. No sooner had I agreed to go buy a banana for my friend Jen than I was informed we were moving. Moving meant turning onto a rutted side street and into the town/hideous wasteland of Juliaca which we proceeded to drive around for two hours. At one point we stopped at the bus terminal and some of us got off to buy water. When we went back to the bus not five minutes later it was gone. No longer parked at the terminal where we had left it. Crap. We had to run through the terminal to the road on the other side and wave it down, which we would NOT have known to do unless a man who had seen our bus leave showed us the way! I was very thankful not to have to spend more time in Juliaca than was absolutely necessary. Back on the bus, we eventually made it to the main highway, which was covered in stones and broken glass, some kind of protest blockade. Soon we turned off the highway again and into a potato field. At first I thought we were driving directly through the crops, but there was, in fact, a narrow dirt road running through. Marla, Heather, Vicky and I amused ourselves by telling jokes... some bad, some good and most including references to Janek, our volunteer coordinator, and his Manchester accent. We stopped to dismantle a small stone wall constructed across the road. After that it was smooth sailing, except for the part where the bus had to weave around more stones and glass, the ticket checking guy getting out to move the most unavoidable pieces. Smooth sailing into Puno, on the shores of the highest navigable lake in the world, Titicaca. Or as I have heard it called, "Booby-Poopy". Not my words.
Love,
Julia