Guide to riding the bus in Peru & Bolivia

We didn't know it at the time, but our first luxury bus experience in Peru would spoil us for the rest of our 5 week trip. It provided all the things expected of a coach bus in America:

• It left on time
• It did not randomly let passengers on or off in the middle of nowhere
• It went from point A to point B without unnecessary layovers
• It had a functioning bathroom

Not only did it meet all of the seemingly standard criteria listed above above, it went above and beyond the call of duty by:

• Providing a snack
• Offering blankets to cold passengers, with complimentary tuck-in service!
  
• Tagging and securing luggage
• Showing a movie appropriate for all ages
• Showcasing the rare, fold-down legrest

From that point forward, we never quite knew what we would get. And tragically, the bar had been set way, WAY too high.

In Peru and Bolivia, where most people do not own a car, the main method of transportation is via bus. In fact, it is not uncommon to look out the window at a sea of vehicles and not see a single car. Crowded mini-buses and taxis dominate the city streets.

Between cities, there are coach buses of varying price, quality, and comfort. Unfortunately, the relationship between the three is spotty at best, if not completely random. Be prepared. It can't hurt to ask the relevant questions at each ticket counter as you decide which of the ten different bus companies serving your destination you will entrust your happiness to for the next 12 hours.

But, it can't help much either.

In these countries, where people are generally known for their friendliness, honesty, and kindness, it can be downright soul-crushing to find out after several hours of bouncing along uneven, dirt roads that the handle to the bathroom door has been removed. Intentionally. Again. Despite assurances to the contrary.

Eventually you realize that some buses don't even pretend to have bathrooms.

Having to clean the bathroom, it would seem, just doesn't contribute enough to the bottom line. Nor does providing heat, even when nighttime temperatures drop well below freezing. The locals understand this, and embark carrying winter coats, hats, and wool blankets. Balled up, shivering in the fetal position, with all four limbs pulled into my only fleece, I couldn't help but wonder about all the potential revenue they were losing. I would have paid dearly to rent even one of those cheap airline blankets.

The first time it happened, I told myself it was an especially cold night. The second time? Just the particulars of the terrain we had driven though. But the third? I cursed my optimism and bought a nondescript gray wool blanket, which I begrudgingly crammed into the top of my already full backpack for the remainder of my time in Bolivia.

If there were a manual entitled "The ins and outs of busing in Peru and Bolivia", it would give advice like:

• Remember not to spend your last 30 cents until after paying the required departure tax
• Save an additional 30 cents: you will need it for the surprise bathroom break 6 hours from now
• If the bus stops for a layover, do not leave your seat unless you can have someone save it for you
• If an old lady sits on your armrest, deal with it. She isn't going anywhere
• If a man stands up in the aisle and speaks for more than 10 seconds, do not bother paying attention. Crank up your iPod, he'll be blathering on about God for at least another 15 minutes
• Only tourists sit in the front row of the upper deck. The panoramic windows don't provide protection from the cold. Besides, if the views aren't blocked by the giant lettering on the front of the bus, they will probably ice over shortly after sunset.
• "To be safe, the bus travels slower at night" is code for: "We will be making a two hour layover in a town of three thousand people at 1 am for no apparent reason"

And the list goes on.

Buses however, are the great equalizer. It may be one of the few times you find yourself side-by-side with the locals, having paid the same price for the privelege. I can only imagine this happens because, unlike places like Machu Picchu, there is an unbelievable amount of duplicate services shoulder to shoulder with one another.

In the U.S., your choice is essentially limited to a few different time slots. Pick one, and off you go. Greyhound awaits. Try walking into a bus station where thirty different people from twenty different bus companies are all yelling "Puno, Puno, Puno, Puno" in your direction.

Eventually, you will get used to the long, bumpy nights on an unpaved road for seven straight hours. Eventually, the dust billowing off an identical bus, traveling the identical route, on the exact same time schedule won't annoy you. Bus already full and stopping to pick people up on the side of the road to stand in the aisle next to you for several hours? No worries, this is how you travel now. You may even be able to convince yourself that the younger passengers aren't paying attention to that movie about terrorism, capture, torture, and worse.

But this is how it's done here. If you want to jolt yourself out of the daily lifestyle, travel in comfort, style and speed on a plane. But if you want to be a local, see the country from ground level, go easy on your wallet, and test your patience (and bladder), take a bus.

I'd lend you my wool blanket, but it's in the closet, awaiting my first houseguest of the winter who dares to ask: "What was your honeymoon like?"