kellita the señorita the ibby dibby dow: Crossing the border to public masturbation

Part of the reason I crossed the border back to Argentina (besides my love affair with Spanish) was to take an overnight Argentine bus with full-cama service.

Adventure town.

I arrived at the bus station at 12:30 to catch my transfer to my bus. Was informed the bus was running late. Got lunch. Returned at 1:30 and was transferred to bus washing/gasing station. Here we were informed in Spanish that the bus that's supposed to pick us up is stuck in traffic due to a huge accident, and will be slightly late. No one on the bus understood Spanish. I love when people respond to information in Spanish saying, "In English please," and the non-English speaking workers just shrug their shoulders and say, "No". Ego boost translation time for me.

We spent 3 more hours sitting in this bus "terminal" when the bus finally arrived from Buenos Aires to carry us on to Sao Paulo and Rio. The adventure really started there. The bus passengers from BA had really bonded by the time we boarded. I don't know if this was a result of being stuck in traffic making their bus ride infinitely longer, or if it's an Argentine thing to make friends with everyone, but it was like being inducted into the special bus club.

At the Argentine border we filed off the bus, got our passport stamps, and filed back on when a domestic dispute broke out 5 seats in front of me. A Chinese couple was having it out, screaming obscenities and actually physically punching and shoving each other. She kept trying to get off the bus and he kept pulling her back into the seat as a kind woman tried to mediate. We all looked at each other wondering if we should do something. After a few more moments the mediator informed the couple that they had called the police, and the wife's only response was, "Good, call them!". Luckily the dispute was resolved before we had to wait for the police and we continued on to Brazil.

At the Brazilian border same thing. Line, stamp, reboard. A Hatian man who only spoke French was denied at the border because he didn't have a Brazilian visa. Problem: he speaks French, unlike anyone for miles at both border crossings. Luckily there was a French man on our bus who was able to help him out. But it took another hour to explain to him what he needed to do and get him on his way.

We spent the rest of the ride giggling about the day's adventures and swapping tips for Rio. South American hospitality was in full swing as each person around me handed me their email address for help with anything while I'm here. Man I love these people.

I arrived at my hostel in the Botafogo area of Rio around 7pm. Sometimes you arrive at a hostel and the second you walk in the door you know you made the right decision selecting the place. I joined in the group dinner and met some girls from Canada, Holland, and France. We took a walk to the beach to check out the full moon. As we were chatting by the water's edge an older gentleman was sitting closeby meditating under the brigh sky. How lovely. Wait a second. Is he? No, Kelly, you're paranoid. No, I think he... Wouldn't you know it, public masturbation has caught back up with me. This man was not in fact meditating, but seated indian style wanking off. I conferred with the girls to make sure it wasn't just my paranoia and it was indeed happening. I filled the girls in on my experience with this phenomenon on the way back home. Once we reached the street we turned to find the man seated on another bench finishing himself off. I wanted to run after him to kick him in the balls. One of the girls informed me that wasn't a good idea. "It's what he wants, a pretty girl right in front of him to finish it off. The only thing you will get left with is a face full of semen." Good point.