Bugs on the Run

There is one great freedom that most travelers never experience - the cut and run. When you travel on a schedule you tend to stick to that itinerary. When you travel with only a vague idea of what´s coming next you occasionally get the chance to see how fast you can throw all of your junk into a bag and get out of town. Drew and I had yet another chance to bolt in Santiago. This time it was the bug´s fault.

After returning from Easter Island we caught a cab to the hotel where we had a reservation. Upon our arrival the hotel informed us that there was no room at the inn, so we got the equivalent of a night in the stable - the International Hostel. It was late, we were tired, and Drew was sick so we took it. There were no angels, no star, and no wise men at this stable. Just bugs. Bed bugs to be exact. (On a side note, I have now been bitten by just about every type of insect on this continent.)

The next morning we discovered that the bugs had been feasting upon us, and we complained to the management and to the owner. They told us that bed bugs don´t exist. Apparently, they are a figment of my imagination. Choice words were said. Questions about the hotel manager´s intelligence were raised. There might have even been some insinuations about his mother, a dog, and a bevy of circus clowns, but I don´t want to point any fingers.

So we left, stormed out is more appropriate, and hopped a bus south to Puerto Montt. This unfortunately meant we spend the night on the bus, but it was preferable to being eaten in your own bed. The next day we arrived in Puerto Montt and did what any sane person with bed bugs does. We checked into the nicest four star hotel in town. If you are going to suffer, do it in luxury.

For anyone who has not experienced the joy of bed bugs, its a real pain. The itching is annoying, but the little devils are a lot of work! All of our clothes needed to be washed. Everything we owned - backpacks, books, shoes, etc. - all need to be cleaned. So there is nothing like a Friday night in a luxury hotel, sitting on the edge of a bathtub scrubbing out a grimy backpack.

Welcome to my life. You get used to it after a while.