I'm a bit concerned. I have to meet my wife in Ushuaia on Day 12. That means I have to cover 5,000 kilometers by bus in four days. The Lonely Planet guides for Chile and Argentina do not have clear information about the frequency of buses down in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. I'm going to have to rely on luck, as I don't have my tickets purchased and I don't even know where to make the transfers.
I decide on a big breakfast. I go to Cocinera Rosita, which is just around the corner from my hotel in Calama. Though it's in a commercial area, the restaurant is literally like your grandmother's kitchen and dining room. I order something off the menu-- I want meat, eggs, potatoes, and coffee. I end up with a huge piece of steak, two fried eggs, rice, and Nescafe. That will do.
Just as I am about to check out of my hotel and catch the bus, I have my first bout of upset stomach. Oh, dear.
I also notice that my nine year old hiking boots are starting to fall apart. I think the hot desert sand from yesterday was just too brutal.
On the way to the bus station, I run into a store to buy some water. I get a tug on my elbow. It's the bartender lady from the other day. She wishes me a happy journey.
I quickly realize, as I am waiting for my bus, that I will be wearing the same clothing for four consecutive days. Here is my bus to Santiago:
As we depart Calama, the bus is only a quarter full. Because this is a mining town, there are only two female passengers-- a baby girl and her mother.
As we hurtle through the desert on an undivided two lane road, I realize how vulnerable I am. I am on the second floor of the bus, one row behind the driver's side of the windshield. If our driver swerved just a bit over and hit a truck, that's it for me.
More bad American movies are shown. The dinner that was served on the bus was disappointing-- an oatmeal cookie, juice, peanuts, and one butterscotch candy.
I should arrive in Santiago tomorrow afternoon.
No comments:
Post a Comment