Crossing the Border into Peru the More Complicated Way

According to the original plan, the border with Peru was an eight hour boat ride down the Napo River, which is close to where I’ve lived for the past two years. The new route was rather longer and more complicated, but no less interesting. Xavi and I decided to stop for a night and day in the pleasant southern Ecuadorian city of Loja (known for producing the country’s best musicians) to break the non-stop travelling. We found a cheap hotel next to the bus station and were told that buses going to a town called Zumba, close to the Peruvian border, left every night. An internet search for Zumba generally ended up with bikini-clad female fitness instructors so it was not much help. We got a good sleep that night, knowing that we may not be sleeping in a bed for the next couple of nights. The following day we roamed around Loja, stocking up on the final things we needed to buy before heading off towards Peru that same night. Xavi was wondering how he was going to change Euros to Peruvian Soles and that doubt was clarified randomly, passing in front of a shop selling material for clothes… that also exchanged Euros for Soles. Just as randomly, we bumped into the Argentinian female national football team, in Loja to compete in the Copa America tournament.

Puerta de la Ciudad, Loja

The bus to the town of Zumba left from Loja at 11.30pm. Xavi had a little howling toddler right behind him for the approximately six hour bus ride. I slept rather well, considering that the road was no longer asphalted very soon after leaving Loja. One major political slogan in Ecuador is: “We have roads, we have a nation!” It seems that Zumba and surrounding towns and villages are part of a lesser nation for the time being. It was a bumpy ride on a muddy road and at one point, in the midst of my nighttime slumber, I saw that the bus had to wait for about thirty minutes as an excavator dug into rocks that were blocking the road. We arrived in the little quiet town of Zumba at about 5.30am and waited in the chilly bus station until there was enough light outside to make our way to the border. Clouds were tucked into the green valleys around and beneath the town and the firsts rays of sunlight gave them a pink glow.

The bus station of Zumba at dawn

Misty dawn in Zumba

I half expected to see other foreigners at the bus station, on their way to cross the border at La Balsa. In the end, there was only one couple of Bulgarian backpackers at the station. The guy was asleep on a bench whilst the girl was busy writing away at a small laptop. That was it. Apparently, this isolated border crossing isn’t frequently used by travellers. The Bulgarian girl told us that a ‘chiva’ (a little open bus with wooden seats) was due to leave for the border at about 8am so we waited till then. By the time the chiva arrived, we were joined by a fifth foreigner – a twenty-something American guy who was hitchhiking his way to Lima.

The chiva from Zumba to the border with Peru at La Balsa

The Bulgarian couple, Tery and Ivan (both in their early 30s), turned out to be on a rather astonishing journey and put our own travel into a much lesser perspective. They had left Bulgaria about 11 months ago, hitchhiking to Italy before finding a really cheap last-minute ride on a cruise ship heading from Civitavecchia to the Caribbean island of Saint Martin. From there, it took them ages to find free rides on boats around the Caribbean until they got lucky and found a captain who took them to several islands in the region. They seemed to like Dominica best for its nature and hiking possibilities. They eventually found their way to mainland South America and hit the road. The Bulgarians never sleep in hotels and rarely catch buses (choosing to hitchhike instead) in order to keep their expenditure extremely low and be able to travel for as much as they can. They apparently boost their budget with some online writing work but need very little to keep on going, spending an average of about 60 USD per month. They almost never have to pay for accommodation or transport and eat very cheaply. This kind of travelling indeed keeps the costs low and the adventure levels high, allowing people with very little money to travel to countries they would otherwise have only seen in the dreams. Indeed, for this kind of travel, you need very little money but plenty of courage, a good physical condition and lots and lots of time (hitchhiking is a time-consuming affair).

I used to travel this way myself a few years ago, sleeping anywhere I could find – including random fields, bus stations and abandoned buildings – hitchhiking and living on bread and mustard. I then started working in human rights and realized that I didn’t want to be away from my profession for too long. Long ago, whilst crossing the Baltic Sea on a cargo ship, I had read a phrase in a book which stated that there is nothing more futile than adventure for the mere sake of it. Whilst I can think of many things more futile, since adventures make people dream and feel excited about life, I did agree that I wanted to do something more with my life than simply roam around the world aimlessly. Nevertheless, I do feel a lot of admiration (and yes, also a pang of jealously) for the Bulgarians and the crazy and free travel they were on.

The bendy, muddy road to the border - too close to big drops for comfort

The view along the road to the border (a part of the bendy road can be seen in the distance)

The chiva ride was a rare event for the Bulgarians. They had tried to hitch a ride from passing cars the day before - but the winding unpaved road to the border at La Balsa has little traffic and they had no luck. On the morning we met them, they had decided to spend a little on this (very cheap) chiva ride, which was a lucky happening for me since I love meeting people like Tery and Ivan – they fill me with hope that people can break from the chains of routine and really seek for true freedom. Tery told me that, a few years ago, she had already hitchhiked on her own all across Africa for about eight months. I didn’t have the opportunity to ask her much about that travel, though I really would like to know if she was crazy enough to have passed through countries in turmoil such as Somalia and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Meeting people like Tery is dangerous for me … they give me ideas! After all, the idea of crossing the Amazon by boat came from a conversation with an Ecuadorian friend, Juan Carlos, who had completed a similar journey himself. Tery writes a blog in Bulgarian – I might need to learn the language just to read it, or simply limit myself to seeing the photos… thankfully there are also some parts translated into English: http://teryrobin.blogspot.com/p/about-me.html )

The chiva ride to the border took about one and a half hours, passing along a muddy, unpaved road close to a few unnerving drops. The views are quite spectacular as the chiva descends towards the valley that acts as a border between Ecuador and Peru. A dog was rescued along the way and literally thrown onto the roof of the chiva to be taken to the closest town. He was not amused, nor did he think he needed rescuing, and spent the rest of the bumpy ride yelping from the roof. It surprises me how badly animals are treated in this part of the world, whether chickens kept in horrible small boxes, animals macheted to death for their meat, or rescued dogs thrown onto and off roofs of chivas…

This dog probabely would have prefered not to have been 'rescued'!

The border formalities were rather simple, getting an exit stamp on the Ecuadorian side of the border, crossing a bridge over the Canchis River and entering into Peru. The border officials in Peru were very friendly but one guy was concerned that I may have the Ebola virus since I had an Egyptian visa from 2009 on my passport (hence I was “coming from Africa”). The official seemed rather excited about something out of the routine along this sleepy border! After I convinced him that I was not infected with Ebola and had been living in Ecuador for the past two years, he let me through and gave me a 30 day visa. From there, we had to get to the closest town called San Ignacio with only two options available: catching a shared taxi or walk. The Bulgarians obviously decided to walk with their backpacks and all (bless them!), whilst Xavi and I caught the shared taxi which took over an hour to arrive to San Ignacio.

The valley at La Balsa, an isolated border between Ecuador and Peru

The Canchis River - dividing Ecuador and Peru at La Balsa

From San Ignacio, our long journey towards the jungle town of Yurimaguas continued as we had to catch a small van for another two hours to the city of Jaen (plus one extra hour waiting along the way as road works were being done). Jaen is located in a wonderful valley and is close to the Marañon River (which is considered as the mainstem source of the Amazon River) but the city itself does not seem to have been built with human comfort in mind. It’s a city full of main roads and hundreds of noisy moto-taxis zooming around, making it an ordeal to even cross the road due to the amount of moto-taxis rushing towards you. The fact that the main roads were all dug up made the city even less attractive than it already is, as if a huge earthquake had recently struck the city. We waited until night to catch another bus for the nine and a half hour journey to Tarapoto, located at the edge of the high plains just before the Amazon actually starts. That made it two nights in a row on buses, this time on a double-decker bus on a much better road.

Waiting for roadworks to be complete before continuing the journey to Jaen

 

Kids play along the road to Jaen

 

The valley close to Jaen

Jaen - seeming like the aftermath of an earthquake

Boy and pet waiting for a bus in Jaen

Tarapoto is a much more pleasant city that Jaen and we decided to stop there for a day and night in order to have another break from the non-stop travel. The noise from the moto-taxis is still unpleasant but not as bad as in Jaen. Xavi and I ate a delicious ceviche (a typical dish made from raw fish) in the restaurant belonging to a young Peruvian guy called Diego, who had lived in Spain for a while. We spent the afternoon enjoying a lovely conversation with Diego – about his experiences in Spain and his life in Tarapoto – and eating the ceviche he had prepared. The hotel we stayed at is very basic but is owned by a sweet and helpful man whose family lives upstairs and seems to watch television all day long. I’m surprised how cheap hotels can be in Peru, often costing little more than 10 USD for a double room. After enjoying a good sleep in a bed for the first time in three nights, we caught an early bus to Yurimaguas the following morning.

View of the outskirts of the town and mountains behind Tarapoto

The road descending towards the jungle has loads of bends and an amazing view. Thankfully, the road is now tarmacked and it takes only about three hours to reach Yurimaguas as opposed to the six it used to take in the past. However, the bends took their toll on several passengers and five of them (four children and one adult) ended up throwing up. The domino effect of one child vomiting after the other (some kind collective inspiration) was a surreal scene that would have its rightful place in some silly juvenile comedy… and was a rather stinky affair! In the end, it was all more or less worth it since I finally got back to the sticky heat of my beloved Amazon jungle after a long fragmented journey spanning over three days and three nights.

A man an horse walk along the bendy road to Yurimaguas

The breath-taking (and puke inducing) road to Yurimaguas - descending to the jungle