We didn’t make it to the big Mercado. I got sick. I had a good run there though and it wasn’t even a very bad sick; a little cramping, a little fever, a smidgen of nausea, not too bad. If that’s the worst of it, I’ll consider this trip a success, stomach wise anyway. Peter is of course, completely unaffected.
We woke up early to take a taxi to the collectivo by the bus station. Collectivos are way cheaper than buses. Basically, they have a destination, you get on, you wait for them to sell all the seats and then off you go. They can be anything from a taxi to a minivan, to a minibus to a full, fledged bus. When we walked into the collectivo station, there were about ten windows of different collectivo companies, all barking out their destinations. The one we wanted was Ipiales. “Ipiales. Ipiales. Ipiales. Ipiales.” It was crazy. I have no idea why Peter chose the one he chose. Probably that guy yelled the loudest. The trick to not getting car sick in a collectivo is to sit in the front seat. They’re usually set up for two people to sit real close in the passenger side. Otherwise, winding roads, exhaust fumes and bumpy roads will do your stomach in.
The trip to Pasto was relatively uneventful. Peter managed to purchase the tickets and pay for them with his bad Spanish. However, the plane was one of those small jet planes with two seats on one side and a single seat on the other. I do not like those. Continue reading
I would like to say that our decision to go to South America was not made lightly, but that’s just not the case. It was a mom-appeasement decision.
We were initially planning a trip to Mexico, specifically, San Cristobal de las Casas. It’s in the Southern part of Mexico, near Pelenque and the border of Guatemala. They have good language schools there and we love Mexico. However, the parental units were freaking out about us going to the “most dangerous place on earth,” which, if you read the newspapers, is Mexico. Continue reading