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The Wrong Way Round
PLittle did we know about a bus strike taking place in Cusco barring all public transport traffic into or out of the town, however, the first we learnt of this turn of events was in Cusco checking in to the hostel at 10pm when our bus had pulled outside and woken us up from our slumber. They were quite surprised to have seen us as a number of other buses had had to turn back around to Ollyantambo or worse back to Agues Callientes. To this day I have no idea how we got through this supposed barracade of traffic, but am simply thankful that we did as we wasted no time in jumping into a shower and then jumping into bed, a real bed, no more sleeping bags!
The next day we were stuck in Cusco due to the aforementioned bus strike that whilst flimsy enough to let us through into Cusco was seemingly strong enough to keep us stuck inside, so we returned our rented merchandise, the torch had had some special moments so I'm glad I never bought it, although we really could have done with a decent working one. We then returned back to the hostel and put in some laundry. Now it occurs to me I haven't spoken about this ellusive laundry business. With a somewhat limited amount of clothing laundry has become a somewhat repetitve, but very necessary, chore whilst traveling (particularly in the hot sweaty countries). Some hostels have the most ridiculous systems - in Sao Paulo for example you paid at the reception desk, went to the top floor (where the washer/dryers were to be found) dumped in your stuff and then had to call the front desk telling them what machine you had put your clothes into so they could switch it on themselves from the front desk - crazy! Whilst expensive and usually resulting in badly washed clothes there was very little alternative. Cusco, however, was a whole different ball game. 2.50 soles per kg of clothing washed, dried and folded (I think they may even have ironed my shirts, although I really do not tho). You just left it with them and picked it up the next morning from 10am - bargainous! And a whole lot less hassle. Laundry handed in we then got ourselves comfortable for a day or sheer unadulterated relaxation in front of the TV watching the Sex and the City Movie, Rolemodels and Quantum of Solace.
The following day we were able to book a bus out of Cusco to Puno (provided we got the latest bus that day as the strike was not technically over yet) and the rest of the day was spent vegging out in front of the internet, largely watching Skins on youtube. There was just enough time to go to Paddys for dinner and a pint before heading back to the hostel and getting our s*** together. The taxi there (included in the price of the bus ticket we'd bough from the travel agent next door to the hostel) took us on a scenic tour of what I'd consider the bad (ie non touristy) side of town and homelessness was kinda staring you in the face on our drive as people clustered together under road bridges. The bus station was a symbol of order. There were people sitting everywhere and a lot of long queues to different bus desks. We tried asking whether we needed to check in or whether this long queue was simply people trying to buy a ticket but the guy in question (security for the line we think) decided that I was trying to push in (frankly a ridiculous notion given their patience for waiting in lines) and sent us to the back of the queue. As it transpires we did need to check in so we ddin't wait for nothing she did however babble in Spanish and ask us questions in Spanish not using a single word of english or attempting in any other way (hand signals pictures, holding a boarding pass) to communicate any information to us. We ended up walking off trusting that she had enough information to check us in. When we attempted to board however there were people in our seat and a German guy's seat, but who thankfully spoke Spanish and he managed to sort everything out turns out the idiots in our seats had been on a cancelled bus and whilst they had been transferred to this one by not checking in they hadn't been given their new boarding pass and seat number. So finally on the bus we set off for Puno. And at 5am the next day after a mind numbing bus ride we pulled into Puno and earlier than scheduled.
We baragined with a taxi driver to take us to our hostel who then walked off, leaving us and starting on a couple of American girls when it became apparent we weren't interested in signing up to this tour of the Uros Islands he was touting. After managing to get a taxi it became apparent he had no idea where he was going and at one point actually stopped and asked someone on the street where it was. When we did finally get there it turned out there wasn't any room for us, despite the fact we had a reservation, we told them this. He then tried to chuck out 2 girls he had just checked in because we had reservations, they were in their PJs getting into bed at this point they got dressed and went to a different hostel. Someone from upstairs who had been ont he couch as there werent any spare beds and came and took one of the free ones that had now become available. We heard someone saying that there were 2 people checking out at 7am and at this point it was 6am so we decided we'd wait until then in the common room and take that room when it was ready. We finally got into our room and we were getting a twin room (as opposed to a dorm room) because of our troubles which was good. After sleeping in til the early afternoon we had a waunder around town to see what there was to do. Our conclusion? Not much besides Lake Titicaca. We found a cheap pizzeria for dinner and watched the most ridiculous spanish soap in the history of time. The waitress also foudn the story we were making up about the show and what was going on (in our minds at least) hilarious. We then headed back to the hostel and watched WallE and Wolverine (which wasnt even out in the cinemas yet, but it showed as the SFX weren't quite finished) So far we weren't overly impressed with Puno, a little disappointed actually.
The next day we woke up early, but not early enough it would seem as the mininus was already waiting for us to take us to the dock, the daft woman had told us the wrong time! So we quickly threw on some clothes, looked half decent and got on the minibus appologising profusely to everyone for the delay. At the dock we got onto our boat after being ushered from person to person. Then we were off. The Uros Islands were cool, the fact they're all made of reeds is frankly mind boggling - the ground, the houses, structures all made from the same reeds. We then went on a walk up one of the larger physical islands, the name of which I have now forgotten aong with a long and colourful story of the meaning of the various kind of hats on the island, single men wear different ones to married men, children wear different ones to adults, very young children wear different ones. The walk up this island was smoewhat killer, high altitudes again and steep slopes, but no where near as bad as the Inca Trail. Lucy was feeling ill tho and so she was having a bad time of it and barely touched any of the food we were given at lunch. But we got some really gorgeous photos (see facebook) and got some air away from the past few relaxing days that we'd spent indoors recovering from the Inca Trail.
Then in keeping with the shoddy nature of Puno the boat broke down. It had in fact done this briefly earlier but had then gone and got itself going. Well after 15 minutes of a lack of movement we knew we weren't fairing as well this time when the captain of the boat removed all but his underwear and dived into the lake with a big knife, to hack away at reeds clogging the propeller of the engine and free it all up. Well half an hour of that and we still weren't moving, but another boat came up the side of us and the captain of their ship and a few members of crew jumped aboard to help. 15 minutes later another boat stopped to do the same. In the end after remaining stationery for about an hour the boats positioned themselves either side of our boat and literally dragged us (in the dark now) back to port - it was all rather ridiculous.
And then there appeared to be no sign of any bus to take us back to the hostel. Everyone was just wandering vaguely back towards town unsure of what was going on when the woman we'd booked the tour with appeared out of no where and shoved us into the front seats of an otherwise full minibus. Took a while to realise who she even was when she was shoving us into the thing and the driver didn't seem particularly impressed by our presence. Regardless the bus got moving and we got back to the hostel safe and sound if not after a somewhat ramshackle series of events. We comforted ourselves by watching Gossip Girl.
The next morning we checked out, got ourselves down to the bus station and stocked up on a variety of snacks - chocolate, lollipops, tubes of pringles, sprite (obviously) booked our bus and then enjoyed the break neck speed at which our driver speeded down the road for the Bolivian border.
The next day we were stuck in Cusco due to the aforementioned bus strike that whilst flimsy enough to let us through into Cusco was seemingly strong enough to keep us stuck inside, so we returned our rented merchandise, the torch had had some special moments so I'm glad I never bought it, although we really could have done with a decent working one. We then returned back to the hostel and put in some laundry. Now it occurs to me I haven't spoken about this ellusive laundry business. With a somewhat limited amount of clothing laundry has become a somewhat repetitve, but very necessary, chore whilst traveling (particularly in the hot sweaty countries). Some hostels have the most ridiculous systems - in Sao Paulo for example you paid at the reception desk, went to the top floor (where the washer/dryers were to be found) dumped in your stuff and then had to call the front desk telling them what machine you had put your clothes into so they could switch it on themselves from the front desk - crazy! Whilst expensive and usually resulting in badly washed clothes there was very little alternative. Cusco, however, was a whole different ball game. 2.50 soles per kg of clothing washed, dried and folded (I think they may even have ironed my shirts, although I really do not tho). You just left it with them and picked it up the next morning from 10am - bargainous! And a whole lot less hassle. Laundry handed in we then got ourselves comfortable for a day or sheer unadulterated relaxation in front of the TV watching the Sex and the City Movie, Rolemodels and Quantum of Solace.
The following day we were able to book a bus out of Cusco to Puno (provided we got the latest bus that day as the strike was not technically over yet) and the rest of the day was spent vegging out in front of the internet, largely watching Skins on youtube. There was just enough time to go to Paddys for dinner and a pint before heading back to the hostel and getting our s*** together. The taxi there (included in the price of the bus ticket we'd bough from the travel agent next door to the hostel) took us on a scenic tour of what I'd consider the bad (ie non touristy) side of town and homelessness was kinda staring you in the face on our drive as people clustered together under road bridges. The bus station was a symbol of order. There were people sitting everywhere and a lot of long queues to different bus desks. We tried asking whether we needed to check in or whether this long queue was simply people trying to buy a ticket but the guy in question (security for the line we think) decided that I was trying to push in (frankly a ridiculous notion given their patience for waiting in lines) and sent us to the back of the queue. As it transpires we did need to check in so we ddin't wait for nothing she did however babble in Spanish and ask us questions in Spanish not using a single word of english or attempting in any other way (hand signals pictures, holding a boarding pass) to communicate any information to us. We ended up walking off trusting that she had enough information to check us in. When we attempted to board however there were people in our seat and a German guy's seat, but who thankfully spoke Spanish and he managed to sort everything out turns out the idiots in our seats had been on a cancelled bus and whilst they had been transferred to this one by not checking in they hadn't been given their new boarding pass and seat number. So finally on the bus we set off for Puno. And at 5am the next day after a mind numbing bus ride we pulled into Puno and earlier than scheduled.
We baragined with a taxi driver to take us to our hostel who then walked off, leaving us and starting on a couple of American girls when it became apparent we weren't interested in signing up to this tour of the Uros Islands he was touting. After managing to get a taxi it became apparent he had no idea where he was going and at one point actually stopped and asked someone on the street where it was. When we did finally get there it turned out there wasn't any room for us, despite the fact we had a reservation, we told them this. He then tried to chuck out 2 girls he had just checked in because we had reservations, they were in their PJs getting into bed at this point they got dressed and went to a different hostel. Someone from upstairs who had been ont he couch as there werent any spare beds and came and took one of the free ones that had now become available. We heard someone saying that there were 2 people checking out at 7am and at this point it was 6am so we decided we'd wait until then in the common room and take that room when it was ready. We finally got into our room and we were getting a twin room (as opposed to a dorm room) because of our troubles which was good. After sleeping in til the early afternoon we had a waunder around town to see what there was to do. Our conclusion? Not much besides Lake Titicaca. We found a cheap pizzeria for dinner and watched the most ridiculous spanish soap in the history of time. The waitress also foudn the story we were making up about the show and what was going on (in our minds at least) hilarious. We then headed back to the hostel and watched WallE and Wolverine (which wasnt even out in the cinemas yet, but it showed as the SFX weren't quite finished) So far we weren't overly impressed with Puno, a little disappointed actually.
The next day we woke up early, but not early enough it would seem as the mininus was already waiting for us to take us to the dock, the daft woman had told us the wrong time! So we quickly threw on some clothes, looked half decent and got on the minibus appologising profusely to everyone for the delay. At the dock we got onto our boat after being ushered from person to person. Then we were off. The Uros Islands were cool, the fact they're all made of reeds is frankly mind boggling - the ground, the houses, structures all made from the same reeds. We then went on a walk up one of the larger physical islands, the name of which I have now forgotten aong with a long and colourful story of the meaning of the various kind of hats on the island, single men wear different ones to married men, children wear different ones to adults, very young children wear different ones. The walk up this island was smoewhat killer, high altitudes again and steep slopes, but no where near as bad as the Inca Trail. Lucy was feeling ill tho and so she was having a bad time of it and barely touched any of the food we were given at lunch. But we got some really gorgeous photos (see facebook) and got some air away from the past few relaxing days that we'd spent indoors recovering from the Inca Trail.
Then in keeping with the shoddy nature of Puno the boat broke down. It had in fact done this briefly earlier but had then gone and got itself going. Well after 15 minutes of a lack of movement we knew we weren't fairing as well this time when the captain of the boat removed all but his underwear and dived into the lake with a big knife, to hack away at reeds clogging the propeller of the engine and free it all up. Well half an hour of that and we still weren't moving, but another boat came up the side of us and the captain of their ship and a few members of crew jumped aboard to help. 15 minutes later another boat stopped to do the same. In the end after remaining stationery for about an hour the boats positioned themselves either side of our boat and literally dragged us (in the dark now) back to port - it was all rather ridiculous.
And then there appeared to be no sign of any bus to take us back to the hostel. Everyone was just wandering vaguely back towards town unsure of what was going on when the woman we'd booked the tour with appeared out of no where and shoved us into the front seats of an otherwise full minibus. Took a while to realise who she even was when she was shoving us into the thing and the driver didn't seem particularly impressed by our presence. Regardless the bus got moving and we got back to the hostel safe and sound if not after a somewhat ramshackle series of events. We comforted ourselves by watching Gossip Girl.
The next morning we checked out, got ourselves down to the bus station and stocked up on a variety of snacks - chocolate, lollipops, tubes of pringles, sprite (obviously) booked our bus and then enjoyed the break neck speed at which our driver speeded down the road for the Bolivian border.
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