The 15 seater minibus already has 17 people crammed in when we arrive. Our trekking lightened backpacks, all non essential camping equipment removed and stowed at the hostel, are secured on the roofracks and Vicki is directed to the backseat, next to an elderly campesino and his wife. I take the only other available seating space – facing backwards (my worst) on the shelf behind the driver´s seat, next to a bible reading youth. My long legs are secured, at an uncomfortable angle, in a squeeze between three sets of knees. The journey to the start of our 5 day trek is one and a half hours long, winding through mountain passes on ´head thumping on the roof´potholed roads. The driver regularly sounds a siren, indicating to potential passengers that there is space available – there is always space available. The official policy appears to be that there is always room for one more, and the driver and his assistant have great faith in the tardis-like ability of their vehicle. At one point I count 23 people in the mini bus, the latest, a young man seated on the floor with his novia (girlfriend) on his lap – and still we stop for another, who wisely declines to board, much to the chagrin of the driver´s assistant who tries to coax him in while some of the irritated passengers cry ´Vamos!!!´ (let´s go).
In South America these types of vehicles are called collectivos, presumably because they keep collecting anyone willing to squeeze in. For me it is an uncomfortable ride, with my legs getting progressively number and my head constantly bumping against the roof. Vicki, I notice, is chattily practising her spanish on the campesino couple. Spanish, for Vicki, is usually accompanied by lots of hand miming gestures as she fills in the blanks in her vocabularly. I hear her making the sound of thunder, as she explains the South African weather pattern to the amused couple. He, in turn shows Vicki the medicine he has just purchased for his sick wife, as he explains that they are returning from a visit to the clinic.
So far we have found Peruvians to be the most friendly people in South America, usually very interested to hear about South Africa. ´¿Donde pais?´, is a common conversation opener – Which country are you from? In Huaraz, our base in the Cordillera Blanca, we bought our trekking permit from the national park office and the attendant wanted to know all about the african animals, which she was convinced roamed free through the countryside.
By the time we arrive in the small town of Caraz the mini bus is nearly empty and I can finally unfold my legs.
