Another bus Journey from hell and toilet bonding

I think I might be toilet obsessed!

We decided to take a four day trip in a jeep across the salt flats and the desert. It was convenient, because we really wanted to see the salt flats and the jeep drops you off in Chile where we had to pick up our next flight. We said goodbye to Gjis, Leanne, Zoe and Fred and teamed up with Maz to make the trip. We had to get an overnight bus to Ululi from where we would pick up a jeep to take us into the desert.

I could feel that Maz was a bit nervous of me, which was making me nervous of him, but there’s nothing like a Bolivian bus journey to make you bond with someone. And we bonded alright! We’d been on the bus for hours and we had the whole night to go. The driver was dressed in some type of baby boiler suit and had so many cocoa leaves in his cheeks that he looked like a gerbil. Bolivia is a beautiful place – so raw and natural – and that includes the main highways. Huge craters in the road which the bus just flew over – a million times. No, maybe two million. Not good at the best of times. Even worse when you are dying to wee. I had got to the point that I was in pain. I was still feeling really rough from the Bolivian tulcum. My left nostril was constantly dripping water and the more I mopped it up, the sorer my nose got. I was due on and quite frankly, for the first time on the trip I was totally miserable.

Finally the bus stopped. I ran out to the loos. Closed! Closed? What do you mean they are fucking closed!!!!!? I went back to the bus and lit a cigarette. Maz joined me. When I told him my dilemma he said I’d just have to go in a bush. I was in pain, but I still couldn’t face the thought of it. Two months into the trip. I’ve survived a hurricane, swam in the Amazon, trekked in the jungle in the middle of the night, but I still can’t pull down my pants and wee in the open. There’s still too much London media type to be shaken out of me. ‘Come on’ said Maz ‘I’ll take you.’ He’d spotted a ‘building’ that consisted of three sheets of metal holding each other up with a completely open front. “I can’t do this!” I tell him. “You are going to fucking have to!” he replied. We’ve got another 6 hours! No-one will see you. I’ll hide you.”

So I pulled down my trousers and pants while Maz stood with his back to me and finally released, hoping that he couldn’t hear it splashing on the floor and trying not to hit my boots. Jesus!!! I only met this guy three days ago! Mid flow I spotted them. Maz started to wave his arms saying “no…don’t come here.” But they ignored him. It was two Bolivian women…thankfully they were women. “Toilette abierto” they were saying, pointing in the direction of the closed loos and looking over Maz’s head at me with laughter in their eyes. While Maz was trying to explain that they were closed, I was desperately trying to pull up my trousers. My pants remaining half way down my thighs. They looked at me and laughed. I got up and ran in the direction they were pointing, too embarrassed for words. No, I WAS right. The toilets were bloody closed. So I ran back again, knickers STILL round my thighs, wee dripping down my leg back to the building and just went.

As usual when you really don’t want to wee for long, it lasted bloody ages! I could see the women on the other side of the bus station, but at that point I just had to carry on. I’m glad Maz forced me, because I think I would have got bladder poisoning otherwise. The worse thing about it was that we had decided not to spend the night in Ululi and go straight on the four day trek as soon as we arrived. And I thought I was skuzzy at Glastonbury! Gross, I know. But it was obviously going to get easier from that night on. I decided that night that next time I’m just going to pee. I don’t care who sees me. Nobody bloody knows me. I’m just going to pee. It’s just as well, because we had a four day desert trek ahead of us.