In this story, I discover that sometimes the journey you’re dreading can be the most surprising.
A fuzzy announcement over the speakers in Spanish disturbed my reading. Confused, I caught the eye of a lady sitting near me, who explained:
"We have to get off the bus - they're refuelling it."
My heart sank. I’d boarded the bus that morning in the desert heat of San Pedro, dreading this 24-hour trip back to Santiago. This time I was travelling alone - my friends had continued north to Bolivia while I had a flight to catch to Brazil.
Relieved that no-one sat next to me, I’d stretched out across two seats. After a few hours, my tablet's battery died and I’d turned to my Anthony Bourdain book for entertainment instead. And now we were stopping.
