Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova (48 page)

That
night I went out in Trujillo, but the night was a bust. I couldn’t find a good place. The one I went to was half-empty and I went to a corner store to get a beer and wait a while. Two guys were sitting on the sidewalk and starting talking to me. They seemed quite drunk and I ignored them at first but after a while I found out they were quite nice guys.

O
ne of them was a cop and he showed me his gun. He unloaded it and we took some drunken pictures with it. I was hitting the half-a-liter beer cans pretty hard, and after a while I got some barbequed street food and then I went back to the “club”. It sucked balls and was a sit-down place with only salsa and other dancing styles. I barely saw any approachable girls and I was not in the mood anyway. Another night alone.

I
went on to Lima early in the morning and took an excellent bus to get there. The weird thing was that the staff took the fingerprints of everyone boarding the bus.

I was grumpy the whole day because I had been looking forward to spending time with Evita again. Taxi drivers in Lima had a bad day with me, I would bargain the shit out of them and slam doors in their faces if I didn’t like the price. The small hotel I’d stayed in last time only had one room available and it was the same one I’d banged Evita and the Norwegian girl in. This didn’t improve my mood and I tried to psych up for the Saturday night.

I
went to a street with many clubs close to the old square but I was in a totally bad mood and didn’t even feel like going out. I had forced myself once more to go out alone but this time my inner game was messed up and it probably showed. Basically, it was one of the worst nights out ever for me and I was glad to get the fuck out of Lima the next day.

M
y next destination was Nazca again, and on arriving early in the morning I found out that I had no more money in my bank account. I forgot to transfer money from my savings account to my regular account and had to stay one extra night to wait for money.

I
took the flight over the Nazca lines and puked my guts out inside the small plane. I had booked the best flight with the most turns over the landscape so I could see all the ancient figures twice. I hadn’t entered into my calculations the fact that my stomach has always been weak if I’m doing anything that spins around and that a lot of turns meant a lot of spinning. Luckily the small propeller plane had barf bags but I felt like shit.

The
night before I’d some beers and a few Pisco sours with a Danish girl I met in the hotel. I had a nice room there and tried to get her in there but she wasn’t up for it. Nazca has a few places to go out and I think we had seen them all. I felt like a try-hard and thought about how I was going to stay at Sierra’s house in La Paz in a few days. Sierra wasn’t a hot girl but she was young, really horny and longed to see me. How could one resist?

I
went to Areaquipa and from there straight to Puno, close to the Bolivian border. I was getting used to sitting on buses for hours every day but cursed for half an hour when there wasn’t a connecting bus to La Paz that day. I had missed it by forty-five minutes. I had to stay in a city I didn’t want to be in again. I decided to make the best of it and when I walked around that afternoon I saw a few bars I could visit that night. I ate some food and went to the Internet café.

An
hour later I was barfing and shitting out my guts back in my room. I was never happier to have my own bathroom than in those hours. It was clearly food poisoning and I felt terrible. I stayed in bed all evening and woke up bathing in my own sweat around two o’clock. I was out of water and had already drunk two liters that evening. I was burning up with fever and I really needed to hydrate myself. The only places open now were bars and I literally broke out of the guesthouse, busting open the door from the inside in the middle of the night.

It
was a clear case of Murphy’s Law when I entered the bar and saw girls sitting everywhere. All alone, all looking at me, all giving me little smiles and waiting for me to approach. I had had bad luck before but this topped everything. First not getting some in Quito despite having a cute girl in my bed, then taking long hell rides on old buses, those shitty nights out in Trujillo and Lima, Evita refusing to see me again, the extra night in Nazca and now have to stay longer in Puno and coming down with food poisoning. I wondered what I’d done to deserve all this bad luck. It must have been karma for all the bad things I had done on my trip so far.

When
I stumbled out of the bar with some bottles of water I was sick and sweating and wanted to kick myself. I felt surprisingly well in the morning and got on the bus to La Paz. Eight hours on the bus with a short stopover at Lake Titicaca and I was back in La Paz again.

Bolivia – La Paz, Second time

La Paz, a city I despised after my two-and-a-half week stay there. The only reason I went back there was that I needed some decent sleep and to see Sierra again.

I
checked in the Loki hostel again, had a long hot shower (which was needed) and brought my clothes to a laundry shop (which was even more needed), spent some time on the Internet and went to see Sierra in the afternoon. She had been writing to me a lot on Facebook and couldn’t wait to see me.

Sierra
and I talked a bit and she joked about how I must have had sex with a dozen other girls while I was gone. I told her it wasn’t that easy, but she didn’t believe me. She flirted hard and was obviously getting turned on. I knew she liked to play rape-game and waited weeks to do it so I decided to give it (another) try just to make her happy.

I stood up, grabbed her throat, squeezed it and she looked surprised. I said: “So you want to be raped?” Her eyes, crazy. She looked happily in mine and I slapped her in the face and dragged her in to the bedroom. I threw her on the bed and forced myself on her, she struggled when I tried to take her clothes off. I choked her and slapped her hard in the face while she was trying to fight me off. She enjoyed it. I banged her as hard I could and she was screaming, shouting “No, No, No” and other things so loud that I was afraid that the neighbors would call the police on us. I finished doggy-style and she said it was the best sex she ever had in her life. Truth be told, it was a lot harder than I thought. She fought back hard and even though I’m at least twice as strong as her, I had major trouble getting her clothes off while fighting her off. I sometimes had to ask her to relax a bit because I wasn’t going to succeed with her fighting that much. Getting jeans off that way is nearly impossible.

Rape
play or beating a girl is not really my thing and I didn’t actually enjoy it that much. When I was twenty-seven I had a 19-year-old Dutch girlfriend who was all into S&M. She was quite beautiful, with long white-blonde hair and big blue eyes. She also wanted me to beat and dominate her. I did for a few weeks but soon stopped liking it and cheated on her with a girl I knew from my work as a taxi driver.

My
blonde girlfriend dumped me a week later after I showed up way too late for her birthday. At that moment I couldn’t care less, but had my doubts when I hit a dry spell in the following months.

Anyway,
back in La Paz, I was quickly annoyed by Sierra and her passive behavior outside the bedroom, and her body didn’t appeal to me that much. I liked her for her craziness but that was it. I spent some time in the Loki hostel and in the evening I went back to Sierra’s place. I met some friends of her and after they left she wanted to go to the rock bar we had been before (the night I vomited and the toilet didn’t flush). I didn’t like the place because it was boring for me to hang out with Bolivian rockers I didn’t have much in common with and could barely understand anyway since they were all speaking Spanish in a loud bar.

Sierra
went out alone and I watched a movie and later went to sleep in her bed. She came back in the middle of the night; she was quite drunk, woke me up and wouldn’t leave me alone until I had sex with her. Her breath smelled of beer and she was very pushy. I finally caved in after a while and had sex with her again. It felt a lot better slapping her around this time, but it was also a clear sign I had to get the hell out of there.

The
next morning I wasn’t interested in anything and just watched the whole first season of
Game of Thrones
on her television. The series was pretty good but I didn’t like the fact that one of my favorite actors, Sean Bean, died in yet another movie or series. He
never
makes it to the end of a movie.

I
think we went to a cinema later that night but I can’t remember which movie. We argued more and more and Sierra’s high sex drive was wearing me down. The city was boring me and I wanted to move on to explore the rest of Bolivia in the little time I had left. I spent two more nights with Sierra and she begged me to stay longer. When I kissed her goodbye she got angry for me leaving her and bit me on my lip hard. Sierra knew I hated that. She was a sneaky girl: she did it at the exact moment the elevator doors at her apartment building closed and I was trapped inside.

Sierra
later found out about my website, left an angry comment and unfriended me on Facebook. I can’t blame her.

Bolivia – Salar de Uyuni

I had slept every night at Sierra’s place but stayed in the Loki hostel, where I spent my afternoons and early evenings. Hench had returned from Peru and was working in the Loki La Paz again. When I told him about my plans to visit the famous Bolivian salt flats he told me about two Brazilian girls going there too. I’d actually spoken with one of them before and the other one I’d some eye contact with, but she was with some backpacker dude. We got to talking and in the end decided to travel to Uyuni together. Another guy, a Colombian, joined us as well, and the four of us took an overnight bus to Uyuni.

Th
e night was very cold and everyone was packed in hats and blankets. But weirdly I wasn’t cold at all and I wondered why. I can’t stand the cold but that night I was so warm that I took clothes off in the bus. I wondered if I was coming down with a fever or if it was the thought of being with one of the Brazilian girls that warmed me that night.

We
arrived early that morning, had some breakfast and booked a tour. We paid about eighty dollars each for a three-day jeep tour, including food and accommodation. The jeep tour is a given because it’s very unsafe to head into the salt flats on your own. It may sound like a few patches of white ground, but it’s still a desert the size of a small country where you can get lost and perhaps die. Two Spanish women joined us and the six of us plus the guide/driver took off. We were in one of those enormous jeeps and I was sitting in the middle with the two Brazilian girls. The Colombian guy was sitting in front and the two Spanish women in the back. I sat right where I wanted to sit, next to the Brazilian babe with the big ass, long black hair, soft brown skin, a nice pair of boobs and full lips. The other Brazilian girl was skinny but not too skinny, with a small but round butt. Both were very friendly and that made it hard to figure out what my position was. Was I getting friend-zoned here, or was one of them interested, and if so which one was it?

Choosing
the wrong one might destroy my options with the other. After some consideration I chose the mestizo girl with the big bunda and massive lips; she was the one I’d be sitting next to for three days, but it would be hard to game here inside a tight, quiet jeep with seven people in it.

The
first day we went to see a train graveyard where we took lots of pictures together. We drove over the blinding salt flats, took the usual funny pictures and visited a salt museum. Around lunchtime we stopped at a place named Isla del sol or something similar. It was like an oasis in the salt desert, except that instead of palm trees this one had some rocky hills and lots of cactuses.

The
cactuses were massive and it reminded me of my childhood. Whenever I visited my grandparents I would always have a look at my grandfather’s greenhouse, which was filled with thousands of cactuses. He died when I was in India in the summer of 2008. It was near the end of my group trip and I made it back to Holland in time for the funeral but was so incredibly sick that I couldn’t even make the two hour car ride there. It was one of the saddest days in my life. During this trip my grandmother had died too, and of course I couldn’t attend her funeral either. Travelling is great but at moments like these it really sucks to be away from home.

At
night we stayed in a small village and I asked the hot Brazilian girl to watch a movie with me. She agreed, but although we’d been kind of cozy all day, she gave me the cheek turn when I wanted to kiss her. That kind of sucked, because I was left wondering why she would be a bit cuddly during the day, agree to see a movie with me while everyone was in their rooms and then not have kissing in mind. I was right; she was just being very friendly with me. She damn well knew that I was after her but yeah, what you can do?

On
the second day we visited several places, like giant lakes flashing all kinds of colors, a viewpoint and some special natural landmarks. We spent the night on the high plains of Bolivia, where the temperature gets below minus twenty degrees Celsius. There was some kind of a “guesthouse” there with a couple of dorm rooms. There was one other group and after dinner we all sat around the stove. It was freezing and I went out to find some firewood and when I came back everyone was applauding me for finding something to heat up the room with. I had given up on spending the night with the Brazil girl and we went to bed. Everyone was sleeping with their clothes on and even gloves and hats. I just slept in my underwear because I still really wasn’t that cold.