Thus, on Day Two: the early morning sun had yet to break through the clouds that hugged the North Chilean coast when I set out to cross into Perú. The Ferrocarril Tacna-Arica was a short walk away from the hostel and after passing through the rather cursory customs/immigration checkpoint in the station, I was packed into the tiny two car train alongside a Chilean family out for a day trip. The ride followed the coast before cutting up and into the desert. We passed corn and cactus farms and rows upon rows of unfinished cement block buildings that I assume were early stages of squatter housing. Then we pulled into the dirty border town of Tacna, Perú.
My bus to Lima didn't leave until 1400, and with the hour time difference between Chile and Peru, I was looking at five or so hours to kill. I was able to store my bag for two Peruvian Nuevo Soles (a few cents) at the terminal and then set out on foot into the city. Tacna resembles the Peruvian version of Calama, but with better food and worse traffic. There I was introduced to the incessant honking and insane vehicular antics that would come to mark my time in Perú. At one point, an armored car pulled up onto the sidewalk in front of me and I stopped as two guards brandishing huge revolvers posted up while money was loaded from some business. I decided to let them finish before walking past as they looked ready to blow my head off at the drop of a hat.
In the center, I found cheap book stores, a gorgeous colonial church in the square, and a market with food stalls where I bellied up and ate my first Peruvian meal. I pointed to some sort of ceviche made of chicken, onions, and potatoes and asked for a potion. The woman working the stall asked if I wanted rice with it. I did. She then asked,
"Blanco or verde?"
I thought to myself, green rice? Why not. Everything was delicious, and spicy unlike anything I'd eaten in the last for months of bland Chilean cuisine. I finished up with a Kola Real to cool my palate and then headed out into the plaza to read for a while. Eventually I made it back to the bus terminal where I had to check my bags onto the bus like in an airport (many things about bus travel are quite silly in Perú.) After we boarded the bus, an attendant went down the isle with a small video camera filming every passenger's face. The ride itself was marked by constant stops for drug searches and the like, including one time when they checked only the IDs of only the men onboard. Over all though, I found the bus to be more comfortable then Chilean buses, partly due to the hot meal they served.
In the center, I found cheap book stores, a gorgeous colonial church in the square, and a market with food stalls where I bellied up and ate my first Peruvian meal. I pointed to some sort of ceviche made of chicken, onions, and potatoes and asked for a potion. The woman working the stall asked if I wanted rice with it. I did. She then asked,
"Blanco or verde?"
I thought to myself, green rice? Why not. Everything was delicious, and spicy unlike anything I'd eaten in the last for months of bland Chilean cuisine. I finished up with a Kola Real to cool my palate and then headed out into the plaza to read for a while. Eventually I made it back to the bus terminal where I had to check my bags onto the bus like in an airport (many things about bus travel are quite silly in Perú.) After we boarded the bus, an attendant went down the isle with a small video camera filming every passenger's face. The ride itself was marked by constant stops for drug searches and the like, including one time when they checked only the IDs of only the men onboard. Over all though, I found the bus to be more comfortable then Chilean buses, partly due to the hot meal they served.
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