And She's Off

September 27, 2011 8:52 AM

Well, I’ve made it to San Salvador, the first of many layovers in my RTW journey. It’s a very long, narrow airport with many older ladies being shuttled around in wheelchairs. In my opinion, an oddly high number of them-- like parades of five or six in a line being escorted down the hallways. I’m not sure why this is. There is also a black bird hanging around the concourse trying to find crumbs. It’s pretty quiet and so I forget about it, but every once in a while it flies by and startles me. On one end of the airport there’s a map on the wall showing a computer lounge at the other, but after walking to that end and looking around, I have not found it. This is somewhat unfortunate as I realized this morning that I don’t have sleeping arrangements for tonight when I arrive in Lima (at 9:00 PM or so), and I was hoping to take care of that online. Fortunately, I have a seven hour layover to figure it out… Or not, as the case may be. Either way, I have my fantastic new netbook (a story in and of itself) that I can use to chronicle my journey even if I don’t have internet access to share it with anybody.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s been less than 24 hours since beginning my trip, and I think I’m already getting a taste for the adventures (or misadventures?) of budget world travel that lie ahead. It started with the movers who showed up at 4:00 in the afternoon on Saturday instead of the 8:00-10:00 window I was given. (Actually, the tone of the trip may have been set even earlier when last week I realized that I hadn’t left myself enough time to get a Brazilian visa before leaving the country. Oops.) As I wasn’t completely packed, the movers’ being late wasn’t the biggest deal logistically. However, not being able to reach anyone at the moving service during that time to confirm that I actually did indeed still have movers coming was a bit stressful. Thirteen hours after the scheduled move time, with the help of a very nice storage unit employee who kept the place open an hour after closing time, two amazing friends who spent hours helping me box things up and run errands, and several $69(!) rolls of shrink wrap, all my household possessions had been tetrissed into a 10 by 10 storage unit, my bookcase filling the last available spot in the unit—the doorjamb.  

Deciding what to take on a year around the world was not an easy task for me, and making sure nothing I would decide I wanted ended up captured in the storage unit meant that I had my intended travel bag along with two other suitcases, several hanging toiletry bags and a couple bins of paperwork strewn around my room after the movers left. That was okay; I decided I had plenty of time to figure this out before leaving on my trip. Fast forward two days to my 6:45 arrival yesterday in Santa Barbara where I was going to leave my car and be picked up and taken to LAX at 9:30. The items strewn in my room were now strewn in the back of my car, and while I made good time to SB, I was feeling a little nervous about the sub three hours I’d left myself to really pack, shower, get my paperwork in order, and tie up a few other loose ends like canceling my monthly COBRA payments, getting my rent deposit back, and making sure I had copies of my passport and itineraries.

As both my dad and stepmom are out of town, they had emailed very detailed instructions as to how to get inside their house, beginning with going through the unlocked garage door. When I tried the garage door, however, it was definitely not unlocked. I tried looking in the other garage for a hidden key and revisiting my email to see if I had misread instructions. No missed instructions. Fortunately I had my phone and was able to reach my stepmom and then a neighbor who had the spare key. Feeling good about my luck with this, I brought my first load of possible items to be packed into the house and made a mental plan of attack. I could be ready by 9:30. I even decided I had time to eat a bowl of Cheerios for dinner. I then went out to get my second load from the car. When I tried to get back through the garage door however, it wouldn’t open. I was locked out. Again. And this time, my phone was locked inside. (My instructions for leaving the house included pressing in some ball on the door from garage to the house to lock it. They didn’t mention that I would also need to press this ball to unlock the door even after using the keys to do so.)

Realizing I couldn’t get back in the house caused a moment of panic, albeit a somewhat amused one as I couldn’t believe I’d managed to get locked out of the same place twice within 25 minutes, especially after feeling so good about my luck getting in the first time. My mind started processing my predicament. Would my trip insurance cover me missing my flight for something like this? Probably not.  Who do I know in Santa Barbara who could help me? No one. Well, potentially someone, but no one I knew how to contact without the help of the phone or my parents. How long would it take for a locksmith to get here? Long. Shouldn’t have taken the time to eat those Cheerios. How upset would my dad and Suz be if I needed to break a window to get in? Mentally, could I even break a window?  Not likely.

A few more thoughts of desperation crossed my mind before rationally thinking about the many doors and windows in the house. Maybe one of them would be unlocked. I walked around to the back of the place and thought I got lucky with my first door only to realize it was just the screen door that would open. Thankfully, as luck (or maybe good karma) would have it, the third door I tried opened up. I was back in the house with only a few minutes lost.

I laid out the rest of my things and decided that even though it may not objectively be the wisest use of time, a shower was in order. Perhaps my state of mind was reflected in the fact I brought my deodorant into the bath with me and let the shampoo sit in my hair thinking it was conditioner. The soothing effect of the water worked in the end though, and I was staying calm at 8:30 sitting amongst my disorderly paperwork, makeup, and tank tops deciding whether I should take that bigger toiletry bag or try to stick with the smaller one. (I opted for the larger one.) I sorted through my wallet and the papers determining what I would need with me and what I should leave for the people taking care of my affairs at home. I also managed to fit my year’s supply of clothes, medicines, and shoes into my carryon bag (which definitely required some maneuvering—I hope no one is planning on receiving souvenirs) and put everything else into a suitcase to be stored. I had cleaned up the hallway and was just putting my sunglasses into my backpack when I heard the knock of the shuttle driver.

The shuttle ride to the airport was uneventful, and I was feeling good. I had my passport, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s the one irreplaceable thing I need to get from point A to point B. Anything else I’ve forgotten I can buy, borrow, or do without. Contemplating what I would do with the two plus hours I had before my flight (figure out the new cell phone, cancel that insurance, write a thank you note), I entered the airport. It was only a moment’s wait before I was up at the TACA counter.  I had my passport and itinerary and figured all was good.

It turns out, in order to enter Peru, my first destination, you need to show that you have plans to leave. My travel itinerary shows me flying into Lima and then flying out of Sao Paulo and then moving on to several other destinations. To me, seeing that someone has a flight out of a different country and is continuing on to several more after that would lead me to believe that the person is in fact planning to leave the original country. However, evidently Customs and Immigration sees this differently. So, I pulled up my GAP itinerary showing I’m confirmed on a trip starting in Lima on September 28 and ending 36 days later in Santiago. Still not good enough. TACA says Immigration needs to see a bus ticket or train ticket reservations showing me leaving Peru or else they’ll send me back to the US with a heavy fine when I arrive. But I don’t have these things as the tour provides them.

An hour and a half later, many slow moments on the smartphone, several pleasant conversations with TACA supervisors, a less than pleasant phone conversation with  a curt GAP representative, an employee’s kind use of an email address, and a TACA printer, I was able to print out an email with both the confirmation of my trip and the itinerary saying I’m traveling by bus to Bolivia on day 19. That was sufficient.

I would like to note that the people at the airline were very nice and were able to see the illogical nature of the ticket proof requirement in my case even if they couldn’t do anything about it. Also, as a silver lining, I ended up with a printed itinerary of my GAP trip. (Evidently mine didn’t make it into the right folder during my last minute sorting.) I made it to my gate just in time for boarding and to hear the gate agent instructing passengers to raise their hands if they needed a wheelchair. The carryon bag I worked so hard to fit everything into? Checked. Six pounds over the 22 pound carryon weight limit.

So, here I am in San Salvador. The journey begins.

…

7:30 PM

The captain just announced we’ll begin our descent into Lima 10 minutes from now. (The young Brazilian men sitting next to me are having a little dance party, music playing out loud an all.) I’m happy to report that I indeed found internet access at the airport and I have a place to sleep tonight when I land. The place also has wi-fi, so I’ll try to send out this not-so-little trip update when I get there. Hopefully the journey from the airport to the hotel will be so uneventful I won’t have anything to write about. J

9:45 PM

I am in my room at B&B Miraflores Wasi Independencia . Very uneventful taxi ride with a driver nice enough to converse with me in Spanish the whole way. The hotel room is small and clean, and I’m definitely ready for a good night’s sleep.

Oh, and for the record, the only thing asked of me at Immigration here was how long I intended to stay in Peru.