Waiting at the arrival gate of the Medford Airport,I can hardly keep my feet on the ground. I’m 6 years old, 8 years old, 10 years old and 12 years old. Through the years time and time again, the exhilaration of greeting my dad upon his return from business trips, does not fade. Yes, I’m excited to see him, to have his physical presence back in the family. But, to live vicariously through his stories in the places and with the people that are so mysterious, intriguing and currently inaccessible to me are the real reason my knees are doing a jig.
He would push through the exhaustion of weeks of travel to tell me stories of his business meetings, which to my young mind were the most amazing of adventures in distant lands. I was enraptured with every foreign item that emerged from his suitcase. The duty-free perfume gift boxes he would bring back for my mother were the most luxurious items that this girl from the boondocks had ever seen. And the gifts he brought back for me were unrivaled: the airline-sponsored free magazine, a small Asian fan, airline peanuts, a skirt from Mexico, the plastic-ware from the on-board meal, and my number one favorite, the United Airlines issued barf-bags.
My father tried his best to encourage my enthusiasm regarding travel while adding a twist of the pragmatic. One of his many dad phrases that I remember with clarity said with the sarcasm that experience affords: Travel is So Glamorous.
And after years of rolling my eyes at his corny and trite statements, I have now come to the point in my life where I heard my father’s words though my own mouth. I even turned my head to look when the statement Travel is So Glamorous hit my ear drums. But my dad isn’t even in the same hemisphere through which I’m currently traveling…hmmm, and the pitch; it was much too high. Oh, right that was my voice.
Well, he was right. I felt nothing akin glamor as I stood at the Bolivian/Peruvian boarder, smelly, tired, but so excited to be on my way home when I realized the bus driver was telling me in his rapid and slightly unintelligible Spanish that Peru’s boarders were closed. I caught a few phrases here and there: miners strike, roadblocks up, no one knows how long it will last, not possible to cross the bridge. After spending the whole first half of the day traveling it was time to turn around head back to La Paz.
That is when it hit. The dad-ism. Travel is So Glamorous.
I recoiled, did I just say that? Then it is true: as one ages, they resemble their parents more and more. Then I realized, that maybe it wasn't so bad. I have made it a goal to incorporate into my own life the best qualities that I observe in the people that admire, and while it is so easy to find fault with those that are closest to you, my dad sure does have a number of admirable qualities. Sarcastic humor in times of stress being one, And well, sarcastic humor in a time where I may just miss an international flight worth $1700 might be the healthiest reaction possible.
But, never fear. To save you inordinate amounts of stress and worry let me tell you dear readers, your intrepid traveler friend has now successfully reached her destination, although in a much more expensive and less glamorous fashion than originally planned.
For your reading pleasure here is my cost/benefit analysis of my itinerary changes.
-futile bus tickets from la paz to cusco: 120B
-extra night and day in la paz: 400B
-unused plane tickets from cusco to lima: $133usd
-last minute plane tickets from la paz to lima: $290usd
-extra cost of a night in Lima: S./100
-3 shots of whiskey on the LAN flight to lima: Free
-going through Peru immigration and customs totally snockered: priceless.
While flying may seem more glamorous than riding a bus, I managed to loose my extra glamor points when I was relegated to wiggling my way under the bathroom stall door after it jammed, with me and my luggage inside (and I assure you at that particular time, I was as sober as could be).
Once I gather my wits and have a chance to sit down and compose my thoughts in an intelligible manner, I will post the glamorous stories of the bugs, snakes and blisters (and much more amazing things as well) that Jen and I encountered in the Yungas.
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