Posted by: Jonathan
After catching some local transport across the border, from Chile to Peru, we began shopping for an overnight bus that went north, possibly as far north as the 22 hours to Lima. Unfortunately, we weren't the only ones who were planning our next move. As I finished questioning a young lady at the ticket booth I turned around to speak to Jenn and noticed that at her feet lay one bag less than typical. We often joke with one another hiding things - when you are on the road like this sometimes it is the only way to lighten the mood - but this was different (usually Jenn grins like a 6 year old when she pranks). My heart sank when Jenn stared at the empty floor in disbelief - my bag was between her legs seconds before. I panicked, she cried. I darted outside but saw no one to chase. I came back inside and scanned the terminal for my bag, someone running, anything... Jenn continued to guard what was left of our luggage and I continued to search in vein. After about five minutes I began questioning those that were in line around me and was quickly pointed towards "the eye in the sky" - there were cameras everywhere. I excitedly sprinted to the control room and let myself in. Within seconds I was watching myself on screen standing in line at a ticket booth without a care in the world. Even though, at this point, there were only minutes that separated past and present, the implication of these moments were beyond substantial. You see, the big bag that I carried and often left unprotected is full of things I hope I lose throughout this trip, and the things in my small bag that I keep close to me is full of things I would hate to lose, or worse... can't replace. Back to the video - I watch a man 5-foot, 8-inches in khaki pants and hat and a green shirt with a black computer bag (we will call him D-bag for simplicity) walk up next to Jenn's left side, snatch the bag and briskly walk out of the terminal. The operator then followed the D-bag with another camera out to the road in front of the station and with yet another camera around the corner and away from the station. I took note of the difference between past and present... 18 minutes, truth was the D-bag was long gone by now. The video was rewound and watched a second time, this time it became apparent he had help. There were 2 other guys who moved in at the same time, one beside me blocking my view and the attendant's view, and the other directly behind Jenn blocking the view of the others in line; the moment the bag was taken, they faded away. The video was rewound again, this time further back and focusing on the trio. I watched as D-bag, Dumbo, and Meany (trying to keep it PG) watched us and moved with us through the terminal. In hindsight, I wonder over the past 4 months in the 343543 bus stations, how many times sharks have circled without us knowing.
We went to the police office in the bus station, who over the next four hours (during commercial breaks of Rush Hour 3) were able to produce 2 documents detailing the robbery. They asked so many pointless questions and had me check everything, yet never succeeded to spell my, or Jenn's name correctly. If I were administering a spelling Bee and someone said "use worthless in a sentence" I think mine would be: Peruvian policemen are worthless. Not only did I have a bad experience, but also I have heard other travelers comment similar - one even being at gunpoint not by robbers but by Peruvian police demanding a bribe.
I don't really want to dwell on this event much more - I have been watching that video replay in my mind with a clinched fist for a 22 hour bus ride and some. What if I would have turned around sooner - we would have our things - then again what good are things with you are serving 2-5 in a Peruvian prison for aggravated assault in a public bus station.
I have never wanted to come home until today, and ironically today is the first day I can't come home (no passport). There is something about being in a foreign country and not not having money, travel documents, or plastic that makes you feel helpless beyond reason.
After the 4 hour police report and 22 hour bus ride, we arrived in Lima and hunkered down for the night to wait for the US Embassy to open the next morning. I have never been to a US Embassy abroad but I expected to penetrate the gates easily, hear American accents, and get service that I have come to miss traveling in South America - sometimes I don't know where I dream these things up. We arrived at the gate at 9 AM and after some broken Spanish conversations and brandishing my police report we were granted entrance. After two metal detectors and bag checks we were in (P.S. my all metal SWAT addition gigantic knife made it through all the security but they did catch and pour out my bottle of mineral water, kudos). We were given the paperwork but needed passport photos and supporting documents etc. We returned just past 11 AM with everything we needed but were denied entrance. We were told the section of the American Embassy that helped Americans worked from 8 AM to 11 AM and sometimes would take cases in the afternoon and to just wait outside the embassy wall. So there we sat, Americans, not allowed into the American Embassy. I passed the time reading and looking suspicious (was reprimanded by the guard a handful of times), Jenn decided to invest most of her time into crying and it didn't help that she was not allowed to listen to music since her electronic device was capable of taking pictures. When 4 PM came and past (five hours of waiting) a guard came and instructed us to come back in the morning; we weren't going to be seen today (all this is in Spanish mind you - because English spoken at the American Embassy makes way to much sense). Long story short we returned the next morning at 8 AM and did the song and dance and within a few more hours we obtained two temporary passports that will allow us back into the United States but we won't be able to continue our trip until we apply and receive new passports. After that, all we had to do was take our new passports to immigration, get new stamps, tourists cards, copies of police reports, and pay the bank for all of the above services - i.e. waiting in 4,574,037 lines for hours and at the end of each wait try hurdling the language barrier yet again.
In all the stress, we did catch the sunset over the pacific cliffs and had a refreshing Domino's dinner with Inca Kola one night. We braved another bus terminal and purchased tickets to Mancora (18 hours north of Lima) which is near the border of Ecuador. We plan to rest up there until we have to catch our flight out of Guayaquil, Ecuador back to Texas on Monday, Dec 6th.
I apologize that there are no pictures and won't be any for a bit - some d-bag stole my $700 camera and lenses - Oprah, I hope he sells you to someone who sets your aperture, stretches your shutter, and strokes your trigger, you deserve better than him.
After catching some local transport across the border, from Chile to Peru, we began shopping for an overnight bus that went north, possibly as far north as the 22 hours to Lima. Unfortunately, we weren't the only ones who were planning our next move. As I finished questioning a young lady at the ticket booth I turned around to speak to Jenn and noticed that at her feet lay one bag less than typical. We often joke with one another hiding things - when you are on the road like this sometimes it is the only way to lighten the mood - but this was different (usually Jenn grins like a 6 year old when she pranks). My heart sank when Jenn stared at the empty floor in disbelief - my bag was between her legs seconds before. I panicked, she cried. I darted outside but saw no one to chase. I came back inside and scanned the terminal for my bag, someone running, anything... Jenn continued to guard what was left of our luggage and I continued to search in vein. After about five minutes I began questioning those that were in line around me and was quickly pointed towards "the eye in the sky" - there were cameras everywhere. I excitedly sprinted to the control room and let myself in. Within seconds I was watching myself on screen standing in line at a ticket booth without a care in the world. Even though, at this point, there were only minutes that separated past and present, the implication of these moments were beyond substantial. You see, the big bag that I carried and often left unprotected is full of things I hope I lose throughout this trip, and the things in my small bag that I keep close to me is full of things I would hate to lose, or worse... can't replace. Back to the video - I watch a man 5-foot, 8-inches in khaki pants and hat and a green shirt with a black computer bag (we will call him D-bag for simplicity) walk up next to Jenn's left side, snatch the bag and briskly walk out of the terminal. The operator then followed the D-bag with another camera out to the road in front of the station and with yet another camera around the corner and away from the station. I took note of the difference between past and present... 18 minutes, truth was the D-bag was long gone by now. The video was rewound and watched a second time, this time it became apparent he had help. There were 2 other guys who moved in at the same time, one beside me blocking my view and the attendant's view, and the other directly behind Jenn blocking the view of the others in line; the moment the bag was taken, they faded away. The video was rewound again, this time further back and focusing on the trio. I watched as D-bag, Dumbo, and Meany (trying to keep it PG) watched us and moved with us through the terminal. In hindsight, I wonder over the past 4 months in the 343543 bus stations, how many times sharks have circled without us knowing.
We went to the police office in the bus station, who over the next four hours (during commercial breaks of Rush Hour 3) were able to produce 2 documents detailing the robbery. They asked so many pointless questions and had me check everything, yet never succeeded to spell my, or Jenn's name correctly. If I were administering a spelling Bee and someone said "use worthless in a sentence" I think mine would be: Peruvian policemen are worthless. Not only did I have a bad experience, but also I have heard other travelers comment similar - one even being at gunpoint not by robbers but by Peruvian police demanding a bribe.
I don't really want to dwell on this event much more - I have been watching that video replay in my mind with a clinched fist for a 22 hour bus ride and some. What if I would have turned around sooner - we would have our things - then again what good are things with you are serving 2-5 in a Peruvian prison for aggravated assault in a public bus station.
I have never wanted to come home until today, and ironically today is the first day I can't come home (no passport). There is something about being in a foreign country and not not having money, travel documents, or plastic that makes you feel helpless beyond reason.
After the 4 hour police report and 22 hour bus ride, we arrived in Lima and hunkered down for the night to wait for the US Embassy to open the next morning. I have never been to a US Embassy abroad but I expected to penetrate the gates easily, hear American accents, and get service that I have come to miss traveling in South America - sometimes I don't know where I dream these things up. We arrived at the gate at 9 AM and after some broken Spanish conversations and brandishing my police report we were granted entrance. After two metal detectors and bag checks we were in (P.S. my all metal SWAT addition gigantic knife made it through all the security but they did catch and pour out my bottle of mineral water, kudos). We were given the paperwork but needed passport photos and supporting documents etc. We returned just past 11 AM with everything we needed but were denied entrance. We were told the section of the American Embassy that helped Americans worked from 8 AM to 11 AM and sometimes would take cases in the afternoon and to just wait outside the embassy wall. So there we sat, Americans, not allowed into the American Embassy. I passed the time reading and looking suspicious (was reprimanded by the guard a handful of times), Jenn decided to invest most of her time into crying and it didn't help that she was not allowed to listen to music since her electronic device was capable of taking pictures. When 4 PM came and past (five hours of waiting) a guard came and instructed us to come back in the morning; we weren't going to be seen today (all this is in Spanish mind you - because English spoken at the American Embassy makes way to much sense). Long story short we returned the next morning at 8 AM and did the song and dance and within a few more hours we obtained two temporary passports that will allow us back into the United States but we won't be able to continue our trip until we apply and receive new passports. After that, all we had to do was take our new passports to immigration, get new stamps, tourists cards, copies of police reports, and pay the bank for all of the above services - i.e. waiting in 4,574,037 lines for hours and at the end of each wait try hurdling the language barrier yet again.
In all the stress, we did catch the sunset over the pacific cliffs and had a refreshing Domino's dinner with Inca Kola one night. We braved another bus terminal and purchased tickets to Mancora (18 hours north of Lima) which is near the border of Ecuador. We plan to rest up there until we have to catch our flight out of Guayaquil, Ecuador back to Texas on Monday, Dec 6th.
I apologize that there are no pictures and won't be any for a bit - some d-bag stole my $700 camera and lenses - Oprah, I hope he sells you to someone who sets your aperture, stretches your shutter, and strokes your trigger, you deserve better than him.