30 minutes in: The scenery is lovely. Mountains surround us, and the double-decker bus seems so small in comparison. We're in the front row, and it's like watching a movie on the big screen, with no tall heads blocking our view of the moving pictures. Tom reminds me that while the front row seat has the best views, we're also the first ones out the window if we crash. Yikes.
1 hour in: We get trays with big lunches. Ham and cheese sandwiches, rice, dessert, and beef and potatoes. Looks good. Tastes terrible. I pick at mine and save the condiments and utensils. I feel thrifty and travel-smart-- it's like stealing little bottles of shampoo and pens from hotel rooms.
2 1/2 hours in: We make our first stop. It's a tiny little town, and it looks like life barely exists here. I wonder if the half hour we sit at the bus terminal counts towards the 22 1/5 hours we have left. I hope so.
3 hours in: Lovely. A Cameron Diaz movie. It looks terrible, so I bury myself in a book and try to tune out the stupid noises. It's hard to do when Ashton Kutcher keeps screaming "Vegas!"
4 hours in: The landscape has changed. Instead of mountains, we have flat, flat land. It's all barren, with little bushes and desert plants. Everything is the color of corn-silk or dusty brown. In the distance, we can see lightning striking and mountains, but the big screen is on a wild west loop.
6 hours in: I'm officially ready to get off of the bus. 19 hours to go.
7 hours in: We're stopped in the middle of the desert, and our bus is boarded by some Argentinian military officials. They search the bus, but apparently they didn't find what they were looking for. We keep driving. This desert is eternal.
8 1/2 hours in: The plastic knife I "stole" this morning has already come in handy since we left our pocket knife in our luggage under the bus. Plastic knives aren't the best at cutting cheese and chorizo. The knife snapped in half, but still works.
10 hours in: We drive by a beautiful, long lake. It's a little eerie. I think it's the first time I've seen a lake this big without any development around it. I feel like we're explorers who've discovered something new. I hope it stays this way.
11 hours in: Who picked the movies for this bus ride? They're all dark and violent. The movies are hard to hear because of the Muzak playing downstairs, but it's kind of amusing to watch Taken with the song Girls Just Want to Have Fun playing in the background.
12 hours in: We make it to the ocean. The city is bustling, and there's a lot more energy here than in the languid mountain towns. It feels funny after such a long journey in the desert. We stop so the bus company can load dinner onto the bus. The look of the lasagna is... unpleasant. Tom devours his. I eat a plum and some bread and cheese instead.
14 hours in: Trying to sleep. My neck is bent funny and the bus is freezing cold.
18 hours in: I slept. Where's my blanket?
21 hours in: Our breakfast is delivered. Crackers and jam. For some reason, breakfast comes with a little chocolate cupcake. It's delicious, though not the best way to kick off the day. I supplement it with a banana and some cheese from our rations.
22 hours in: Another nap, and chit chat with the girl next to us. We try to pick out animals in the desert. We've found a bunch of sheep, some llamas, and neat looking birds. I see a mini-ostrich, but no one else does. Maybe I'm dreaming again.
24 hours in: A glimmer of mountains in the distance. They still look small, though, so we must still have a ways to go.
25 hours in: We're driving through a tiny little village. Tom remarks that one day, this tiny little village may turn into a big town. I laugh, and then our bus slows. And then we notice the bus terminal.
-R
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