COPACABANA - Day Thirteen

this morning i was up early at 5:00am to catch the 8:00am bus to COPACABANA. this small town, now very touristic, is on LAGO TITCACA. it was the place that i experienced which sparked the idea for PACHA MAMA

as CESAR walked with me to the bus station, i realize that the next few days were not going to be as challenging, compared to the small town i visited on elections. this had me relaxed. having known that, i knew that everything i believed in and hated about impoverished countries, i was going to encounter on this trip.

tourism.
"we hate them as much as we need them."

as i got to the station there was already a small queue of backpackers walking around lost, trying to find a bus company to gamble with, that wouldn´t rip them off. CESAR and i were close to the bus station last night, during an evening walk, so i already had my ticket. close to my booth was a BELGIAN fellow that was saying goodbye to a girl he seemed to be dating. the other was of average height, large nose, dark haired man and with lots of it. he was probably in his early 40s and by the looks of his snarl, in a bad mood. by this time it was about quarter to eight and our bus was leaving soon. CESAR and i said our goodbyes and he wished me luck on my trip.
having not seen the bus in it´s gate, i started to wonder if we were going to leave on time. i could tell that the hairy man was getting impatient. finally 8pm hit and the our snarly friend was at the window demanding, in a middle eastern accent, "vair da bus vas." when he spoke i immediately realised, he was IRANIAN. having spent a fair share of time with the BAHIA community in montreal, i could detect an IRANIAN accent miles away.

(the most incredible military police marching band just passed by the internet place i am working from... so damn tight... i am smiling from cheek to cheek.)

now by the time i realized what our friend´s nationality, which really didn´t matter, he was almost screaming at the woman in the ticket booth "you said eight o´clock! ver is da bus!!!" the poor woman had absolutely no idea what the man was saying because she didn´t speak a lick of english. i stepped in and started translating. in the middle of the translation, i turned to the man and asked
"sir, do you actually know where you are? here in bolivia things don´t really work the like they do in the western world."
"vat does it matter vair i am? dey said to come at 7:30pm and now der is no bus!" i
tried to calm him down and was confused where all this anger was coming from. another thing that kept confusing me was that in just about every country i have been to, excluding the states, canada and western europe; nothing runs on time.
"ver is the bus!?!"
i kept asking him to calm down. "ver are you from?" he asks "i´m canadian sir but my parents are from chile and these kinds of things just happen in latin america." "i dont car vair vee are. the bus vas suppose to caome at 8pm! its naow 8:16pm"

after a few moments of this, i stared to side with him because i too was wondering where the bus was.

"cuando va a venir el bus señora?" i asked.
by this time the guy was just starring at the lady and i, with these huge eyes.
we were coming close to 8:30 and man started pacing.
the company finally informed us that they have only sold three seats, so the bus was now going around to the hostels and hotels to pick up clients so that they can fill the bus up to COPACABANA.
when i found out this piece of information, i was truly afraid for the people behind the ticket booth. i felt like i had the power to ignite a bomb. when i translated this bit of information to our friend... he almost pushed me aside and b-lined right for the window
"NO! NO! NO! VER IS DA BUS!?!?!"

as much as i didn´t want to, i had to interject; "excuse me sir. sir? sir. sir! she can´t understand... sir!!! she doesn´t speak english!"
this was ridiculous.

finally, we get word that our bus had just parked down the street and was ready for us with passengers about to leave. the catch was that we had to walk up this very long inclining street.
now, i started to side with our IRANIAN friend.
i didn´t even bother to translate.
"mame, why do we have to go down the street?
"because that´s where the bus is parked."
"why isn´t it in the bus terminal where it´s suppose to be?"
"because if it comes into the terminal, all the passengers on the bus will have to pay the bus terminal tax"
"why does that matter to us!?!"

at this point we all had paid our two peso tax, which is the equivalent of twenty cents, but it was the principal.
it was at this point that all the three of us were on the same side.

"if that´s the case, then you´re going to have to give us back the bus tax we already paid." now the third guy, the heart broken BELGIUM bloke, knew spanish and was now chiming in.
after a few moments of this, they finally agreed.
when BELGIUM and i explained this to ANGER, i thought he was going to throw his 60 liter backpack through the plate glass window of the booth.
once he got the information he just started protesting;
"i am staying hair! they vant me to valk aftair i vas told to come hair at 7:30am... it´s 8:45am!
ver is da bus?!?
VER!
IS!
DA!
BUS!

at this point, i was very short with him; "listen man, if you want to stay here and complain all day about their crap service, you can. but you´re going to miss this bus. in the end, nothing will change and you will have to wait till the next one, which is probably at 3pm. i suggest you sucking it up, get your tax money back and walk two blocks up a hill to the bus, because its going to leave with or without you!"
"okay!!!
but i am not carrying my bag."
"whatever man, i dont care. do you what you want. i´m going to COPACABANA."
i started walking with BELGIUM and behind us was ANGER with the manager and his lackey carrying our ANGER´S insanely heavy backpack.

now... do you think he stopped bitching as were walked up this huge fucking hill?

"ver are you from?"
"i told you, i´m canadian."
"okay, me too."

i was pissed at this point.

"no you´re not, you have an accent. you´re not just from canada."
"okay okay, you´re right. but you know dat it izzz typical canadian to lay down and have dem treat you liak garbage."
"are you not getting it my friend!? nothing was going to change if you just stood there yelling at them."
"maybe not but if i was der all dey and touk biznezz from dem, it might be beater for de next purson."
"i still don´t think you know where you are."
"canada is just like that. so kind and polite."

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii lost it.

"I DONT KNOW WHAT YOURE COMPLAINING ABOUT SIR!!! THE LAST I HEARD, IRAN WASNT THE MOST ORGANIZED AND PUNCTUAL PLACE ON EARTH!!!"

he almost fainted.

"HOW DID YOU KNOW I VAS FROM IRAN!?!"

i didnt want to get into the BAHIA community of montreal because i thought he might have been one of those assholes that actually believed the IRANIAN BAHIA´s were spys for the JEWS.

at this point i was so fucking tired. huffing and puffing, climbing and climbing.
i just said to him
"i just know people, okay?!"
he shut right the fuck up.

now you would think this whole thing was over...

when we got to the bus i was floored.
it wasn´t our bus it was a smaller piece of shit that wasn´t worth the 25 bolivianos that we all paid for.
right when i saw the bus, i knew exactly what had happened.
it didn´t phase our friend at all... i think maybe because he felt bad because he had some guy carry his shit or he felt that he had his justice.
i myself was a little pissed off because i knew we just been hoodwinked.
BIG TIME!
after i sat down, i tried to laugh it off and realizing where i was.
our angry friend, who was now calm and in his seat, said top me
"i don´t know bvat i would have done if you didn´t translate for me."
"do you even know what just happened?"

he didn´t have a clue... maybe because of his blind rage.
i turned to him and said "the bolivia private transport system works like this; they don´t leave until their bus is full. that is why everything is never on time and is why our bus didn´t leave on time. they wont make any money if they were to leave on a double-decker-pimped-out bus with only three passengers. so they called this other company and sold our tickets to them. that´s why we are on this bus and not the bus that was promised to us."

"i understand."

we sat at our seats and i realized that the rest of the bus was wondering "what the hell just happened to these guys?" after few short minutes... we were on our way to COPACABANA.