The last day in Cali I talked with yet another German guy, who rode around in a camper van and sometimes banged girls in it. He said he knew a good place to go out and we drove off in his camper. I thought the van was a great idea. It looked like a normal bus and he told me some interesting stories. It’s a great way to see places off the beaten track. We went to a place to play pool. When we walked in I saw a pool table and some buck-naked girls walking around. They were completely naked and obvious entertainment girls. We didn’t use their services but one of the black girls had a crazy attractive body and I sure thought about it.
The taxi radio played Inner Circle’s Sweat and I felt bad because that had been “our song” for Peruvian Evita and me. I missed Evita and thought about how I was going to meet her again a week later. I had a long ride ahead of me all the way back down to Bolivia.
Epilogue Colombia - Cali
It was a big mistake to visit Cali instead of Bogota or Medellin. I heard from my buddy Darren that he had gone out quite a few times there and most of the places were good clubs with girls dancing to reggeaton beats. He was sure that I would have succeeded there. I told myself that I would have my revenge by going back to Colombia, but not before I learned how to dance some decent salsa and speak excellent Spanish. Colombia is a beautiful country and I had barely seen it outside the nightlife. People were friendly and it made me think about back when I was travelling through Russia. Over there I wasn’t worried about picking up girls at all and was meeting new and friendly people all time. It gave me a ‘What the hell I’m doing with my trip?” feeling, and I was afraid I would hate myself later for not enjoying the scenery and local people more. This feeling would go away in a few days, once I was back in Quito.
8-day bus trip
My plan was to take a bus all the way down to Bolivia again, with a few stops along the way. It would take about eight days and anyone else would take a plane, but this way was cheaper and probably more fun, since I planned to see a few people again. The trip started back in Cali and after another rip-off taxi ride I arrived at the bus station and rode for another twelve hours to the Ecuadorian border. I couldn’t cross the border because it was too dangerous after dark. I stayed one night in some hotel and crossed the border without any trouble the next morning. Six more hours of bus later, I was back in Quito, where I tried to get a date with the Colombian girl I had kissed before. No luck.
I set up a date with two of the four girls I had met in Quito before. The two sisters were back in their hometown, but I had my eyes on Jane, the one who left with the Canadian guy the last time. She had warned me already not to come on to her because I had already kissed one of her girlfriends and cuddled with another one. I ignored all she said and thought I would convince her anyway. I was way too late at Bungalow 6 and couldn’t find them in the crowd of people. After a while of looking for them I went to the other club, the one I liked best: Club Nobar. The last time I was in Ecuador I had printed out a thousand business cards that D-Lux had designed for me, promoting my website. With a little translation help from the girl working in the hostel I got a pack of photo–quality, full color business cards for thirty dollars. I handed them out to people I met along the way or left them in hostels. I also left them in places like Nobar or Bungalow 6 for a little promotion.
Inside Club Nobar a girl walked up and wanted to dance with me. Her name was Katy and she was a short mestizo girl, a mix of black and white. She spoke good English and we got along just fine. Then she introduced me to two guys, one of whom she said was her half-brother. She danced quite sexy with him. I didn’t trust the situation at hand, turned around and danced with two other girls. It was hard to talk to them only in Spanish and Katy was clearly pissed off about me turning my back on her. I later approached her again and asked if she was angry with me but said it in a funny way. We danced again and she started grinding her little booty on my crotch like crazy. I grabbed her head and kissed her right in front of her (half) brother. He laughed and it didn’t seem to bother him.
Katy and I went outside a couple of times to smoke a cigarette and kissed there. Then she told me that I couldn’t fuck her and if I was looking for a girl to fuck I should talk to other girls. I was thinking My god, what does a foreign guy have to do to get laid around here? I thought it might just be some LMR (last minute resistance) and walked with her to the other club because I’d left my jacket there. We ran into Jane and her girlfriend there; she had some foreign guy with her and I thought to myself Dammit, this girl is up for it but has friend zoned me knowing I’m a player. She seemed to like the dorky kind of guy. They saw me with Katy and we said goodbye.
Even though Katy had said she wouldn’t have sex I took her to my room and we drank some rum and coke there. We were both quite drunk and started making out a bit. One would think that a girl who goes home with a strange guy after three o’clock at night is DTF (down to fuck), but she made a stand and wouldn’t take her clothes off no matter what I tried. After a while I just went to sleep and was none too happy with her next to me.
I had to get up early the next morning to keep to my schedule. We kissed a bit in the morning and her shirt came off but no way in hell was she taking off her jeans. I took a shower, packed my bags and we took a taxi to the bus station she had told me about. Maybe if I stayed one or two nights longer she would have had sex with me, but I don’t like “maybes”. I couldn’t risk it; I was already behind on my schedule and wanted to get going to see Evita again. I was thinking of her more and more and wanted to be with my little cutie again.
The buses in Ecuador are probably the cheapest on the continent; they cost about a dollar an hour and there’s always a lot to see on them. Most buses stop a lot along the way, though, so if you’re in a hurry, take an airplane. People will try to talk to you and lots of guys come on the bus and give a loud twenty-minute sales pitch for whatever they are selling. Then they hand out samples of their product to everyone in the bus, talk about it a few minutes more and then pick it up again from those who don’t want to buy it. It’s a fairly unique system I haven’t seen anywhere else in the world. What’s more entertaining is that sometimes young guys will get on the bus with a boombox and do some freestyle rapping, mostly making harmless fun of its passengers. Afterwards they collect money.
After a few transfers I arrived at the Peruvian border. The bus wasn’t going any further and dropped me off there in the middle of the night. I got my passport stamped and there I stood alongside the empty road, with no bus in sight. I was lucky because half an hour later a bus came by and I bribed the bus driver to take me into the cabin with him. He would drive me to Piura, a Peruvian city, for ten dollars, and I agreed. I sat in the cabin with him and we talked a bit. He was very impressed with my story of travelling the world and later put me in the air conditioned bus when a space freed up. That was a lot better than sitting in a stinking cabin which was packed with bananas(!?). On arriving in Piura I took another bus straight away and fell asleep again. On trips like this your whole day and night rhythm is gone and you kill time by sleeping a lot. I survived on chips, cookies and Inca cola, a local Peruvian soda brand. Maybe once a day I took some warm food but never took too big a chance with it since I knew I would get sick quickly in Peru.
Arriving in Trujillo I was surprised not to find a connecting bus to Lima and had to stay the night there. I found a cheap hotel with the help of a taxi driver and went out later. It was a Friday night, so that should be good.
Evita had texted me that she couldn’t see me anymore because she didn’t want her feelings to get hurt. I was quite devastated by that message and thought that I had probably screwed it up by not staying in touch daily.
That night I went out in Trujillo, but the night was a bust. I couldn’t find a good place. The one I went to was half-empty and I went to a corner store to get a beer and wait a while. Two guys were sitting on the sidewalk and starting talking to me. They seemed quite drunk and I ignored them at first but after a while I found
out they were quite nice guys.
One of them was a cop and he showed me his gun. He unloaded it and we took some drunken pictures with it. I was hitting the half-a-liter beer cans pretty hard, and after a while I got some barbequed street food and then I went back to the “club”. It sucked balls and was a sit-down place with only salsa and other dancing styles. I barely saw any approachable girls and I was not in the mood anyway. Another night alone.
I went on to Lima early in the morning and took an excellent bus to get there. The weird thing was that the staff took the fingerprints of everyone boarding the bus.
I was grumpy the whole day because I had been looking forward to spending time with Evita again. Taxi drivers in Lima had a bad day with me, I would bargain the shit out of them and slam doors in their faces if I didn’t like the price. The small hotel I’d stayed in last time only had one room available and it was the same one I’d banged Evita and the Norwegian girl in. This didn’t improve my mood and I tried to psych up for the Saturday night.
I went to a street with many clubs close to the old square but I was in a totally bad mood and didn’t even feel like going out. I had forced myself once more to go out alone but this time my inner game was messed up and it probably showed. Basically, it was one of the worst nights out ever for me and I was glad to get the fuck out of Lima the next day.
My next destination was Nazca again, and on arriving early in the morning I found out that I had no more money in my bank account. I forgot to transfer money from my savings account to my regular account and had to stay one extra night to wait for money.
I took the flight over the Nazca lines and puked my guts out inside the small plane. I had booked the best flight with the most turns over the landscape so I could see all the ancient figures twice. I hadn’t entered into my calculations the fact that my stomach has always been weak if I’m doing anything that spins around and that a lot of turns meant a lot of spinning. Luckily the small propeller plane had barf bags but I felt like shit.
The night before I’d some beers and a few Pisco sours with a Danish girl I met in the hotel. I had a nice room there and tried to get her in there but she wasn’t up for it. Nazca has a few places to go out and I think we had seen them all. I felt like a try-hard and thought about how I was going to stay at Sierra’s house in La Paz in a few days. Sierra wasn’t a hot girl but she was young, really horny and longed to see me. How could one resist?
I went to Areaquipa and from there straight to Puno, close to the Bolivian border. I was getting used to sitting on buses for hours every day but cursed for half an hour when there wasn’t a connecting bus to La Paz that day. I had missed it by forty-five minutes. I had to stay in a city I didn’t want to be in again. I decided to make the best of it and when I walked around that afternoon I saw a few bars I could visit that night. I ate some food and went to the Internet café.
An hour later I was barfing and shitting out my guts back in my room. I was never happier to have my own bathroom than in those hours. It was clearly food poisoning and I felt terrible. I stayed in bed all evening and woke up bathing in my own sweat around two o’clock. I was out of water and had already drunk two liters that evening. I was burning up with fever and I really needed to hydrate myself. The only places open now were bars and I literally broke out of the guesthouse, busting open the door from the inside in the middle of the night.
It was a clear case of Murphy’s Law when I entered the bar and saw girls sitting everywhere. All alone, all looking at me, all giving me little smiles and waiting for me to approach. I had had bad luck before but this topped everything. First not getting some in Quito despite having a cute girl in my bed, then taking long hell rides on old buses, those shitty nights out in Trujillo and Lima, Evita refusing to see me again, the extra night in Nazca and now have to stay longer in Puno and coming down with food poisoning. I wondered what I’d done to deserve all this bad luck. It must have been karma for all the bad things I had done on my trip so far.
When I stumbled out of the bar with some bottles of water I was sick and sweating and wanted to kick myself. I felt surprisingly well in the morning and got on the bus to La Paz. Eight hours on the bus with a short stopover at Lake Titicaca and I was back in La Paz again.
Bolivia – La Paz, Second time
La Paz, a city I despised after my two-and-a-half week stay there. The only reason I went back there was that I needed some decent sleep and to see Sierra again.
I checked in the Loki hostel again, had a long hot shower (which was needed) and brought my clothes to a laundry shop (which was even more needed), spent some time on the Internet and went to see Sierra in the afternoon. She had been writing to me a lot on Facebook and couldn’t wait to see me.
Sierra and I talked a bit and she joked about how I must have had sex with a dozen other girls while I was gone. I told her it wasn’t that easy, but she didn’t believe me. She flirted hard and was obviously getting turned on. I knew she liked to play rape-game and waited weeks to do it so I decided to give it (another) try just to make her happy.
I stood up, grabbed her throat, squeezed it and she looked surprised. I said: “So you want to be raped?” Her eyes, crazy. She looked happily in mine and I slapped her in the face and dragged her in to the bedroom. I threw her on the bed and forced myself on her, she struggled when I tried to take her clothes off. I choked her and slapped her hard in the face while she was trying to fight me off. She enjoyed it. I banged her as hard I could and she was screaming, shouting “No, No, No” and other things so loud that I was afraid that the neighbors would call the police on us. I finished doggy-style and she said it was the best sex she ever had in her life. Truth be told, it was a lot harder than I thought. She fought back hard and even though I’m at least twice as strong as her, I had major trouble getting her clothes off while fighting her off. I sometimes had to ask her to relax a bit because I wasn’t going to succeed with her fighting that much. Getting jeans off that way is nearly impossible.
Rape play or beating a girl is not really my thing and I didn’t actually enjoy it that much. When I was twenty-seven I had a 19-year-old Dutch girlfriend who was all into S&M. She was quite beautiful, with long white-blonde hair and big blue eyes. She also wanted me to beat and dominate her. I did for a few weeks but soon stopped liking it and cheated on her with a girl I knew from my work as a taxi driver.
My blonde girlfriend dumped me a week later after I showed up way too late for her birthday. At that moment I couldn’t care less, but had my doubts when I hit a dry spell in the following months.
Anyway, back in La Paz, I was quickly annoyed by Sierra and her passive behavior outside the bedroom, and her body didn’t appeal to me that much. I liked her for her craziness but that was it. I spent some time in the Loki hostel and in the evening I went back to Sierra’s place. I met some friends of her and after they left she wanted to go to the rock bar we had been before (the night I vomited and the toilet didn’t flush). I didn’t like the place because it was boring for me to hang out with Bolivian rockers I didn’t have much in common with and could barely understand anyway since they were all speaking Spanish in a loud bar.
Sierra went out alone and I watched a movie and later went to sleep in her bed. She came back in the middle of the night; she was quite drunk, woke me up and wouldn’t leave me alone until I had sex with her. Her breath smelled of beer and she was very pushy. I finally caved in after a while and had sex with her again. It felt a lot better slapping her around this time, but it was also a clear sign I had to get the hell out of there.
The next morning I wasn’t interested in anything and just watched the whole first season of Game of Thrones on her television. The series was pretty good but I didn’t like the fact that one of my favorite actors, Sean Bean, died in yet another movie or series. He never makes it to the end of a movie.
I think we went to a cinema later that night but I can’t remember which movie. We argued more and more and Sierra’s high sex drive was wearing me
down. The city was boring me and I wanted to move on to explore the rest of Bolivia in the little time I had left. I spent two more nights with Sierra and she begged me to stay longer. When I kissed her goodbye she got angry for me leaving her and bit me on my lip hard. Sierra knew I hated that. She was a sneaky girl: she did it at the exact moment the elevator doors at her apartment building closed and I was trapped inside.
Sierra later found out about my website, left an angry comment and unfriended me on Facebook. I can’t blame her.
Bolivia – Salar de Uyuni
I had slept every night at Sierra’s place but stayed in the Loki hostel, where I spent my afternoons and early evenings. Hench had returned from Peru and was working in the Loki La Paz again. When I told him about my plans to visit the famous Bolivian salt flats he told me about two Brazilian girls going there too. I’d actually spoken with one of them before and the other one I’d some eye contact with, but she was with some backpacker dude. We got to talking and in the end decided to travel to Uyuni together. Another guy, a Colombian, joined us as well, and the four of us took an overnight bus to Uyuni.
The night was very cold and everyone was packed in hats and blankets. But weirdly I wasn’t cold at all and I wondered why. I can’t stand the cold but that night I was so warm that I took clothes off in the bus. I wondered if I was coming down with a fever or if it was the thought of being with one of the Brazilian girls that warmed me that night.
We arrived early that morning, had some breakfast and booked a tour. We paid about eighty dollars each for a three-day jeep tour, including food and accommodation. The jeep tour is a given because it’s very unsafe to head into the salt flats on your own. It may sound like a few patches of white ground, but it’s still a desert the size of a small country where you can get lost and perhaps die. Two Spanish women joined us and the six of us plus the guide/driver took off. We were in one of those enormous jeeps and I was sitting in the middle with the two Brazilian girls. The Colombian guy was sitting in front and the two Spanish women in the back. I sat right where I wanted to sit, next to the Brazilian babe with the big ass, long black hair, soft brown skin, a nice pair of boobs and full lips. The other Brazilian girl was skinny but not too skinny, with a small but round butt. Both were very friendly and that made it hard to figure out what my position was. Was I getting friend-zoned here, or was one of them interested, and if so which one was it?
Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova Page 38