Onward! The trip to Port Barton

Again…  I have to stress that because of several factors, travelling here can be difficult. 

1. Language barriers
2. Filipino’s always say ‘yes’, even when the mean ‘no’
3. There is an aura of disorganized complacency that is almost comical if it weren't so frustrating.

For example, Puerto is not a large city.  It was easy enough to catch a tricycle from my pension, and the driver said he  knew where I needed to go to catch the only bus of the day which, according to the internet leaves at 9a.  The driver understood english enough and dropped me off at the station and after confirming with a few people standing there, told me that this was where I needed to be.  Of course, I had arrived around 2 hours early because I needed to plan for the unexpected.  

While I sat there waiting, I spoke ‘the international language’ with a nice fisherman who was sitting there with his wife and family.  He was a rugged looking guy, and he assured me that where I was standing was the spot to be to catch the Port Barton bus.  So, I sat, paced, ate some crackers, drank water…. and waited.   While I was sitting a lovely young woman came by and asked if I wanted a mani/pedi while I waited.  Tempting, to be sure but I  decline.  Imagine my surprise when my fisher friend accepts the offer!  So, he’s sitting there getting his mani/pedi and the clock is tick, tick, ticking away.  9a passes and I am surprised that I am the only person who has shown up for this trip.  I mean, I know Port Barton is rather isolated… but this is the only bus all day that is heading there…..  So, as my heart rate begins to rise, I start asking more and more people about the location for picking up this mysterious bus.  Finally, a man tells me that I am in fact, NOT in the right place and where I need to go is across the road and down aways.

Holy S***!  I grab my bags and fly on over, feeling certain that at 9:15a the bus had surely gone, dashing my plans to go to Port Barton.  Did I mention that I had pre-paid for a room in Port Barton?  If I didn’t get there, I would forfeit my room and be forced to pay for an extra night in Puerto, which as far as I was concerned, I had seen and done.  

Well, as it turns out the bus had not left.  Thats was the good news.  The bad news was that, after arriving two hours early,  I was just about the last person to board and I did not have a decent choice of seat… and it was a type 3 bus = torture!!!!!!   I settled on one of the few remaining seats located up front in a tiny space right next to the diesel engine, which I understood, that while covered, would be both noisy, smelly and hot.  

The bus was packed to the gills with assorted filipino's: men, women, children, roosters, you name it.  My seat, such as it was, was thinly carved out.  I had about two feet in front of me before the next seat arrived, the engine growling to my right, a woman to my left and for some reason the seat was about 6 inches from the floor of the bus, forcing me to sit in a most awkward yoga-like position.  I was lucky tho (I guess) because there were at least a dozen men sitting on top of the bus along with a busload of cargo.

In this condition,  the bus creaks and cranks out…  we get gas and begin to move… slowly.  How slow?  Guess!  The distance from Puerto to Port Barton is 64 km away (39.7mi).  How long do you think this trip took?  Ready?   Did you guess 8 hours?   Do we have a winner?!!

Thats right, 8 hours!  The bus crawled.  The bus creaked and cranked.  The engine screamed.  And then the bus broke down!  One of the belts snapped!  Luckily one of the guys hanging onto the top of the bus (for dear life, I am sure) happened to be the bus mechanic whose job it seemed was to be around for such an event.  So, we all pile off the bus and he gets to work under the engine to fix a belt, one of which they were lucky to have in stock (along with how many more parts, I wondered).  

I am feeling nervous by this time… I mean, I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, the only tourist… what is the plan if the bus breaks down completely?  This is a contingency for which I had not planned!

So anyway, the gentleman ‘fixes’ the belt.  Well, sort of!  In fact, the bus would break down two more times before we finally made it to Port Barton!!!  

We were on the road…. Road?  Oh, I havent mentioned the road… OMG…about 20 kilometers into the trip, we lost pavement!  I am not making this up….Imagine, this creaky old broken down bus filled to the gills…  moving down a tiny barely single lane dirt road, through the hilly jungle in the rain!  in the mud!  I was a nervous wreck, extremely uncomfortable, yet at the same time, excited.   I was having an honest and true Peace Corps experience!!!!! 

At some point along the way a small group of 3 tourists joined this circus.  I am too far away to discern their nationality, but for whatever reason, feel comfort in the fact that I am not the lone passenger on this bus without a clue.