Loja
(DAY242 : Vilcabamba - Loja : normally 40 miles)
(DAY243 - 244 : Loja)
When I arrived the border village of Makara in the afternoon I had yet to eat or drink anything. But more importantly, Katirga was running out of fuel. There are four gas stations in Makara. The first one was permanently closed, the second did not have any fuel, the third only had diesel, and the fourth told me to check back at 2:30. Long lunch break? Awaiting the tanker? Oh well, we'd have to fill up in Peru.
Checking out of Ecuador was possibly the quickest border operation I'd been through. Then, it was time to enter Peru. The conversation at the Peruvian Immigrations' window went something like this:
- You are Turkish?
- Yes.
- You need a visa to enter Peru.
- I know, it's there.
- This has expired.
- Huh, how, where, when??? They said it was valid for a year!
- No my friend, six months.
- (gulp!)
There is no expiration date or validity disclosure on a Peruvian visa, so he said/she said is all you can say. Ultimately, it is what this guy now says it is, period. And it might well be my mistake after all. This trip was planned to last five months!
Turns out there's a Peruvian Consulate in Makara, so I rushed back to Ecuador without formally checking back in. I found the mini office-consulate, and walked in as humbly as I could. You know how sometimes you look at a person and know? The big guy in dirty sweat shirts and pants did not at all look like the sharp little shite at the Peruvian Consulate in LA (long story), but he was him. Eager and anxious to say "no" to whatever it is you are here to ask, and do it with immense pleasure. He asked that I should disregard his informal outfit, as he was the consul and his word was the last. There was nothing him or anyone else could do, I simply had to go to Turkey or USA to apply for a new visa! He kept wanting to talk and appear nice, but I knew we were done there. Truth is, I also feared we really were done.
Running scenarios in my head, of heading to Manaus, crossing the Amazon, and descending along the Atlantic coast, I rushed back to the immigration window. "That guy's a prick amigo, he wouldn't help his dying mother!" I said. "I'll make a call to Lima" he said, with a genuine intent to help.
Lima was at lunch, so we had to wait for it to return the call. It was a long wait and my stomach seemed to have a lot to say. Eventually the call came. Lima said any consulate should be able to issue at least a transit visa. Well, everyone knows that, except their consulates that is. That wasn't of much help really. But what could he do? He could dig out the name of the consul in Loja.
Let alone Manaus, the idea of riding back to Loja was making my head spin. I urgently needed to fill up. Katirga too.
After officially re-entring Ecuador, I headed straight to my rendezvous at the gas station. It was already past 2:30, but looking at the long line of cars, they still didn't appear to be serving. I was let in to wait at the front of the line, but to arrive Loja before dark I needed the gas now. While finally having breakfast with junk food from the gas-station store, I figured out what was going on.
The gas in Ecuador costs $1.50 a gallon, whereas it costs $4 in Peru. This naturally invites arbitrage and many people fill up in Ecuador and siphon it out across the border. Hence the guy with the large note-block in military uniform, there to somehow keep a rein on this. The gasolinera needs his authorization to sell gas, and who knows what that takes. The folk here have to endure this torture every time they need (or wish to make a quick buck from) fuel. It's completely nuts!
By the time Katirga saw any of that fuel, it was already past 4pm. So much for not riding in pitch black.
The road between Loja and Makara is a full time twisty with random patches of potholes and an abundance of animals, not just lingering, but galloping at you around corners. It goes up, it goes down, it gets cold, it gets hot, and at night, it sure becomes invisible. I was already physically and mentally exhausted, and now I had to take it on again and backtrack three hours to Loja, under pressure of falling darkness. This was already the new low point of my trip.
A view from the worst day of this trip!
The ride back to Loja felt more like a test. The animals went wild on me. Then descended the fog and came down the rain before it all went dark. When I did make it to Loja, the first good looking hotel got my business even though it didn't have secure parking. Hostal Delbus cost $20 with breakfast, and the security guard, lock, and alarm would have to do. (Hostal Delbus, Av 8 De Diciembre 15-51 y Juan Jose Flores, Tel: 2575100)
The first task next morning was visiting the consulate in Loja, but the consul wasn't there. When I did meet him, at 4pm the next day, I knew I was finally in luck. Clearly a very kind person, while my visa was being prepared, he was looking for maps that could help me on my way. I wouldn't need to ride to Manaus after all.
(DAY243 - 244 : Loja)
When I arrived the border village of Makara in the afternoon I had yet to eat or drink anything. But more importantly, Katirga was running out of fuel. There are four gas stations in Makara. The first one was permanently closed, the second did not have any fuel, the third only had diesel, and the fourth told me to check back at 2:30. Long lunch break? Awaiting the tanker? Oh well, we'd have to fill up in Peru.
Checking out of Ecuador was possibly the quickest border operation I'd been through. Then, it was time to enter Peru. The conversation at the Peruvian Immigrations' window went something like this:
- You are Turkish?
- Yes.
- You need a visa to enter Peru.
- I know, it's there.
- This has expired.
- Huh, how, where, when??? They said it was valid for a year!
- No my friend, six months.
- (gulp!)
There is no expiration date or validity disclosure on a Peruvian visa, so he said/she said is all you can say. Ultimately, it is what this guy now says it is, period. And it might well be my mistake after all. This trip was planned to last five months!
Turns out there's a Peruvian Consulate in Makara, so I rushed back to Ecuador without formally checking back in. I found the mini office-consulate, and walked in as humbly as I could. You know how sometimes you look at a person and know? The big guy in dirty sweat shirts and pants did not at all look like the sharp little shite at the Peruvian Consulate in LA (long story), but he was him. Eager and anxious to say "no" to whatever it is you are here to ask, and do it with immense pleasure. He asked that I should disregard his informal outfit, as he was the consul and his word was the last. There was nothing him or anyone else could do, I simply had to go to Turkey or USA to apply for a new visa! He kept wanting to talk and appear nice, but I knew we were done there. Truth is, I also feared we really were done.
Running scenarios in my head, of heading to Manaus, crossing the Amazon, and descending along the Atlantic coast, I rushed back to the immigration window. "That guy's a prick amigo, he wouldn't help his dying mother!" I said. "I'll make a call to Lima" he said, with a genuine intent to help.
Lima was at lunch, so we had to wait for it to return the call. It was a long wait and my stomach seemed to have a lot to say. Eventually the call came. Lima said any consulate should be able to issue at least a transit visa. Well, everyone knows that, except their consulates that is. That wasn't of much help really. But what could he do? He could dig out the name of the consul in Loja.
Let alone Manaus, the idea of riding back to Loja was making my head spin. I urgently needed to fill up. Katirga too.
After officially re-entring Ecuador, I headed straight to my rendezvous at the gas station. It was already past 2:30, but looking at the long line of cars, they still didn't appear to be serving. I was let in to wait at the front of the line, but to arrive Loja before dark I needed the gas now. While finally having breakfast with junk food from the gas-station store, I figured out what was going on.
The gas in Ecuador costs $1.50 a gallon, whereas it costs $4 in Peru. This naturally invites arbitrage and many people fill up in Ecuador and siphon it out across the border. Hence the guy with the large note-block in military uniform, there to somehow keep a rein on this. The gasolinera needs his authorization to sell gas, and who knows what that takes. The folk here have to endure this torture every time they need (or wish to make a quick buck from) fuel. It's completely nuts!
By the time Katirga saw any of that fuel, it was already past 4pm. So much for not riding in pitch black.
The road between Loja and Makara is a full time twisty with random patches of potholes and an abundance of animals, not just lingering, but galloping at you around corners. It goes up, it goes down, it gets cold, it gets hot, and at night, it sure becomes invisible. I was already physically and mentally exhausted, and now I had to take it on again and backtrack three hours to Loja, under pressure of falling darkness. This was already the new low point of my trip.
A view from the worst day of this trip!
The ride back to Loja felt more like a test. The animals went wild on me. Then descended the fog and came down the rain before it all went dark. When I did make it to Loja, the first good looking hotel got my business even though it didn't have secure parking. Hostal Delbus cost $20 with breakfast, and the security guard, lock, and alarm would have to do. (Hostal Delbus, Av 8 De Diciembre 15-51 y Juan Jose Flores, Tel: 2575100)
The first task next morning was visiting the consulate in Loja, but the consul wasn't there. When I did meet him, at 4pm the next day, I knew I was finally in luck. Clearly a very kind person, while my visa was being prepared, he was looking for maps that could help me on my way. I wouldn't need to ride to Manaus after all.
posted by Serdar at
10:37 PM
0 Comments
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