"Going" the distance in Peru

I'm back in the southern hemisphere for several months and hope to have some good stories for you as a result. To celebrate my return I thought I'd share a "gross at the time but pretty funny looking back" story from a bus ride in Peru.

Just about everyone who has traveled a long distance by bus in South America, particularly through the northern countries (Chile and Argentina tend to have really nice long-distance buses), has a good story to tell. Notorious tales of long delays or cancellations, crowded and filthy buses, highway blockages, terrorist demands for money, white folk kidnappings and so on pervade blogs of people travelling through this part of the world. Mine falls under the "crowded and filthy" category.

My friends Robyn and Matt met me in Puno, Peru last July. After a few days there we took a bus from Puno to Cusco which, if I recall, was about a 7 hour ride. It was a two-level and we got 3 of the 4 front-most seats on the top level (my favorite spot to sit). A nice, quiet local boy sat next to me and the seats behind Robyn and Matt were empty until we stopped an hour later in a nowhere town to pick up the rest of our travellers, at which time a family of four occupied the two empty seats. I hate to propogate a stereotype but these were very poor people who likely lived in a makeshift shack on someone else's land where they were paid next to nothing to work. Their clothes and faces were filthy and we were trying to be culturally sensitive while not gagging on the smell.

The three of us became quiet, focusing inward, focusing on the scenery, focusing on the epic yet touristy 4-day hike to Machu Picchu in front of us; in effect, focusing on whatever we could to keep our minds off of our nasal passages. This lasted about two hours until, all of a sudden, there came a prominent hissing sound. The kind of hiss that water makes when it comes rushing out of a spout. The kind of hiss that little boys revel in when they learn how to pee standing up.

Robyn bolted upright, too terrified to turn around to investigate if the sound was, in fact, what she feared. She also lifted her feet and her bag off the floor. Matt was less timid and I had a better view from the side, so we both strained our necks to investigate as discreetly as possible. There was the family's little boy - perhaps 6 or 7 - standing in the aisle, pants down, peeing into an empty coke bottle. (Robyn would later express relief that he at least used a bottle and hadn't gone right onto the floor.) He finished his business and handed the bottle to his mother, who set it on the floor. Note that the bottle was glass and therefore had no top to secure. To my knowledge it did not spill but I have no idea if she left it or packed it out with her.

We continued to Cusco without further incident, but I think the same thought occured to all 3 of us at the same time and left us scratching our heads somewhat incredulously: There was a bathroom on the bus.