Longhorns

I was recounting the following story to a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer and she suggested that I give it a blog post all its own.  So, here it goes:

It was a sunny and hot Tuesday evening, and I was in the pueblo of Tamorindo where my good friend and fellow Volunteer Brielle lives.  Tamorindo is located about 20 minutes from my tiny pueblo and on a good day the trip is fairly easy to make.  This, however, turned out to be one of those off days.  First I had to haggle with the moto taxi drivers because they were trying to charge me a ludicrous amount to take me “all the way to Arenal.”  I finally talked one of them down to a price that wasn’t so ridiculous to take me to the moto taxi stop in Amotape, located just across the bridge from Arenal.  So I hopped in and we headed for Amotape.  We arrived at the stop with no problems and they dropped me off.  From here I could either walk 20 minutes to my town or catch another moto.  I was tired so I opted for the moto.  I had to wait a few minutes for the only driver to come running from his house to take me, but no big deal.  He offered a decent price so I jumped in and we were on our way.  I could hardly wait the 5 minutes to get to my house and unwind from an eventful day.  I should have known this trip would take more than 5 minutes when the moto could barely make it up the first hill on the way to Arenal.  I thought maybe I’d been eating too much rice the past few weeks and had put on a couple extra pounds because of the struggle this moto was having.  After the driver revved his little engine a million times we finally made it up the slope.  “Phew.  And we’re off, only 4 more minutes until I can take a shower!” – or so I thought.  About 100 yards later the moto dies.  That’s right, completely dead.  Turns out the driver forgot that he had absolutely no gas- which would explain why we couldn’t make it up the tiny little incline. “Well, at least I haven’t gained any rice weight.”  Since we obviously couldn’t go anywhere the driver called one of his buddies to come pick me up and take me the rest of the way.  After waiting about 3 or 4 minutes the other moto arrives, I switch over to his tricycle, and we’re off.  “Ok, this guy has plenty of gas.  Shower here I come!”  Wrong again.  Although this driver didn’t run out of gas, we did experience a bit of a delay.  Picture this: we’re chuggin’ along, enjoying the view of the little canal to our left.  Ahead of us I see a large herd of cattle.  Like any normal moto driver I figured this guy would slow down and wait for the herd to cross the road and then continue of his merry little way.  Well, I figured wrong.  Not only did he not stop, he decided to rev his engine and go full speed ahead.  Straight into the herd of 20 giant cows.  Most of the poor animals got scared and scattered out of the way, but there was one brave and ticked off longhorn that decided he wasn’t going to take this guy’s crap.  He came running at us and rammed the moto taxi with his head.  One horn was about 3 inches from my leg, and the other horn was up with the driver.  The cow was literally pushing the moto towards the canal, and I was convinced we were going to plummet into the water.  I barely had any time to react so I yelled, in English, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”  The driver turned around and was obviously confused because his response was, “What?”  Once I realized that I needed to be speaking Spanish I just started yelling and pointing, “Cow! Cow! Cow!”  He laughed, shook his head, and started the engine back up.  We make it out with no injuries and only a little damage to the moto.  At that point I didn’t even know what was going on so I started hysterically laughing.  He heard me, turned around, and started laughing with me.  We shared a good 2 or 3 minutes of belly aching laughter and then we finally made it to the bridge.  “Wow, I can’t believe we were just attacked by a cow.  Now I really can’t wait to be back at my house.  3 minutes!”  Three minutes quickly turned into 10 when this moto also ran out of gas.  We were halfway across the bridge- I could literally see my entire town.  At this point I was fed up with every moto in all of Peru so I told the driver that I would just walk the rest of the way.  He wouldn’t have it and made me wait 10 minutes for another moto to pass.  I switched to the new guy, and again, we were on our way.  Believe it or not, he didn’t run out of gas and we didn’t run into any more cattle.  Thank goodness.  What should have been an easy 5 minute trip turned into a 25 minute ordeal, but at least I made it home safely (sort of).  Moral of the story: when given the option, always walk.  It may take a little bit longer, but you will never run out of gas and can easily avoid giant herds of cattle.