So listen to my story of the recent hijacking—it´s soooo cultural. . .
Really it´s all my fault. I should have been all ready all packed to go the day before, so when i finished work i could have just gone straight to the bus terminal. But no. I would never do something as smart and organized as that. Instead what i would do would be get out of my last class, walk leisurely home, stopping to talk with rando's on the way and then proceed to invite three friends over to my house to say goodbye. That kiiiind of interfered with my packing time. (I was going to be gone from Cuenca for five little ole days to pick up my sister so maybe goodbye drinks were not in order. But maybe they were.) –So, i should have been on the bus by 6 at the latest, but instead caught the 8:15. NO big deal, right? But if i had been on the 6 i wouldn't have still been on the bus when 3 armed gunmen started shooting holes in the roof of our fun little bus and telling the driver to stay fucking calm and drive wherever the hell they told him to-- and nothing would happen. . .this all went down at 1030 and i was a measly half hour from my destination. Oh if i had just been on an earlier buuuus. . .i would have been safely at my friend Gaby´s house sleeping on her nice hard floor.
Anyway, back on our hijacked bus, our driver suffered a few blows but didn't die any excessively bloody death or anything, don´t worry. My friend Jon´s driver was stabbed to death back in October, so these guys were quite nice compared to other similar hijacking stories. Everyone’s got them—hijackings are very popular these days. Desperate times we live in. I´m still a big fan of public transportation, buuuut wish the driver's weren't so eager for the few extra cents that they earn by picking up just about anybody who happens to be wandering the streets at night. Anyone can flag down a bus and hop on. I´ve been thankful for a ride before, but so were our three hijackers, which i was not too thankful for. These dilemmas! Get someone to the root of the problem! “Ay ay ay.” That´s what the Spanish say... “Canta y no llores” (Or. Holy moley. Sing, don´t cry.) Or other times, “Queeeeee sera, sera.” (Whatever will be will be. . . .)
but I wasn´t feeling too understanding as they forced the driver to take the bus down this dirt road, into a nature reserve/national park/up a cliff/into the darker darkness of the night. When they stopped the bus they made us take off our shoes . they had already taken all the money and cell phones that they could bully out of us, but they called for our shoes just as i was trying to hide what I had left down my right boot! Money--$140--went in the bra, phones i stuffed into the seat cushions after the boot trick didn't work, and my ipod went down my pants. . . the money survived at least. . . We were pretty grossly strip searched as they herded us off the bus. Violated and robbed we were made to go lie down the road. The torturous part (Besides the fact that it was freezing freezing cold Andes highland wind cliff cold cold nighttime cold , and I was smartly wearing my crowded-sweaty-badly-
Anyways, I never got to Alausi, or at least to the fiestas de San Pedro, where I was going to revel in bull fights and bull parades and see how they compared to the Saint Peter’s Fiesta in Gloucester and the greasy pole competition that we have back in my neck of the woods. Turns out I am thankful for New England traditions and that secure little car that I used to have. . .
I did make an attempt to get to Alausi, but after hours of waiting for someone to rescue us from high atop a cliff, and the police finally coming to get us, finding a new bus in a nearby town that could take us, and the remaining half hour of my ride. . i didn´t have the energy to walk the 20 minutes in the dark cold 330 am night without a phone in search of my friend´s house in this town where I was supposed to have landed 5 hours ago . So frowning and teary, i asked the woman at the lone gas/food establishment to use the phone to make a local call. But the lady—cruel—said the phone wasn't for my personal use. I tried to explain my situation, but, eh. No big deal to her. It happens here all the time so that´s when i really sobbed. I would have stayed there all night in the doorway with my bra full of money, but nowhere to use it if. . . a dude that i know from work didn´t magically appear!
Random!! But fantastically super coolio amazingly surprising just the rescue i needed! He got the driver of the night bus he was taking to the capital city of Quito to give me a lift. So i went to quito. For the next six hours i was sitting next to this crazy (but unarmed! Yay!) dude who talked for hours about how i should get a chip planted behind my ear so i never get hijacked or lost or anything again. And as a bonus, I’d be able to pay for groceries with the swipe of my face. It would be automatically deducted from my bank account! I´m human, i wanted to scream, but i just kind of clenched my eyes shut and tried to pretend I was dreaming. ON the upside, he had a good stash of Halls and Trident that he shared. He continued to talk for hours about life, dreams, and reggaeton music—his favorite. He woke me up maybe two or so hours later. He couldn´t sleep-- lucky me!!
Anyways, all in all I don´t recommend getting your bus hijacked. Although it really gives you a chance to bond with our fellow hijackees, and other random travelers, along the way. But really, it´s a real money and time sucker. That, and it's tiring. Take the express bus that doesn't stop to let robbers along for the ride. Or travel during the day. Unless you want a chance to put life in perspective, which i feel . . . well . .. i had never thought I was really going to die before. And now I have, so it served a purpose.
Don´t tell my sister, though! I didn´t think she would deal well with the ten hours bus ride back home if i told her. So she doesn´t know. We just talked about how crazy it was that the Hundureño president was kidnapped and taken to Costa Rica... That's not nice. Oh South America! . . .
Y qué más? What else. . .It´s a beautiful place otherwise. .
