Running for, then from, the border

I had originally planned to visit a few more cities in Ecuador, but with ennui oozing and a likely E-coli infection festering, things conspired against the little country. I was sleepless in Cuena, partially from a lack of AC and partially from horrible shits, but mostly from the mutated, monsterous sounding roosters that crowed starting at 4am and going unabated past lunch. I decided then to go directly to Peru.

There are two ways into Peru, south of Loja or along the coast. The Loja route was longer and slower, but allegedly more scenic. The coastal route was down the Panamerica, a major highway traversing the continenent from the Panama Canal down to Tierra del Fuego, and I expected would be a major artery for me along the way. It didnt wind through mountains, and I'd learned in Quilotoa that distance is deceptive with big mountains and shitty drivers.

However, its also known as the worst border crossing in South America. Still, it is faster.

The bus wound from dull Andean plateau into stark montane desert. Boring? It was stunning. The desert bloomed suddenly into lowland jungle just over the pass, which graded into sprawling banana plantations, which gave way into coastal marsh, and back into desert again, all within perhaps 2 hours of driving. Why's this route always getting crap?

As the border approaches, the bus stocks at a small shack, also known as Ecuadorian Immigration/Emigration. A man from the bus (I think) picks up my bag, gives me the forms to fill out, and walks me to where I take care of exit formalities. Then he leads me to a taxi. Only when he gets into the passenger seat do I get suspicious of him.

As we drive, I give him the evil eye, and he notices, reassuring me repeatedly that he's a friend. But I only get more suspicious as the route gets more convoluted. When we turn down what appears to be a back alley, I say "Pare, por favor", which means "Stop please". The driver chuckles. I scream loudly, with the windows rolled down "PARE!!".

Instead of stopping, he turns the corner of this shifty back alley, and there's the Welcome to Peru sign. This shitty back alley is apparently a major thouroughfare into Peru. The taxi hasn't filled out his forms, so we stop there are get out. I mumble an apology and give him his 2 bucks. I walk off, and my helper accompanies me.

He informs me that the border area in Peru has no ATMs, and that I should take out and exchange money here if I want to get a bus down to Lima. With convenient timing, a money changer walks up. The two are clearly friends. I ask him what the cost is of a bus to Trujillo (a town about halfway between the border and Lima, 10 hours drive from where I was). He tells me it costs 120 sole, or 40 dollars American, so I'll need to take out at least that much. Now I'm suspicious again.

Just then, people with Tourist Police hats walk up, 3 of em. Another con? Their uniforms look real enough, I'll try em. While they confront my helper, I take the opportunity to ask loudly in spanish, with a smirk, "Why are you helping me?" That's all the cue the cops need. Two police take my friend for a chat while a third leads me to the English speaking Tourist Info booth. There I get the real bus prices ($15) and exchange my money at a fair rate.

After giving me all the information I need, the police pass me off to a new man, who leads me to a car and driver. I'm immediately suspicious of an unmarked car, but he shows me his tour guide ID and assures me he's a friend. I'd heard it before. He points out he's friends with the cops too.

He gives me an immigration form to fill out; I show him the form I already had. He takes it and rips it up, saying "It's a fake, a copy", before giving me an identical form.

All seems well until he says I need money to show immigration. Suspicious again. We stop at an ATM, and I take out the equivilent of 80 bucks and hide it on me, watching the whole time the car with my bag to make sure it doesnt try and speed off. It doesnt.

I walk back to the car, where the guide explains my 'mistake'. I need American money to show customs, a currency not used in Peru. I press hard for an explanation, but none comes. However, I fear getting stuck without bribe money, so I go back to the ATM and take out 60 US, which I hide elsewhere on me. With this much money on me, I feel very threatened, and the guide has the chutzpah to ask why I seem tense.

Driving towards the Peruvian immigration office, the driver stops to pick up a new passenger, a huge no-no. I'm ready to bail and they know it. But we pull up to immigrations without incident. The new passenger, the guide, and I all go inside. While waiting on line, I turn around every few seconds to glare at our guide, make sure he hasnt bolted with our bags. He stays put.

Customs never checks my money. Outside, I angrily demand the guide explain. He seems confused by my anger, and says the money is to pass a military checkpoint. That's the con. Fucking military.

The guide asks to hold our papers and money as we approach the military presence. I don't want to, but as the new passenger does, I reluctantly oblige as well. The guide rolls down the window and waves our money and yells something, while the driver speeds up and past and never gives the soldiers a passing glance.

"Bastard! We could've done that with 2 bucks!" I bellow, but he pretends to not understand. He did however immediately return our money, and a quick count revealed it to all be there. I was more confused than anything.

We continued driving, further out of town and away from the police who gave me to them. "Ok, 120 soles each," the guide says. A robbery? Is he channelling Davy Jones? No, a taxi. Rather than drop us off at immigration and let me a local bus to the next sizable town as they were supposed to, they decided to take us themselves and charge us handsomely for it. I could protest and get out, but we were in the middle of nowhere. That was the con.

That's the cost of a bus to Trujillo, right?

So on guard and on edge as I was, I still managed to fall into a trap and get conned out of 40 bucks. Still, I had no idea where the immigration office was, or what papers I needed, or where to get a bus. So while their service wasnt worth 40 bucks, and they certainly werent my friends, there couldve been outcomes worse than this.

The true beauty of their scheme didnt hit me until the next day when I tried to exchange my American bribe money in Trujillo. They were cleverly, but clearly, counterfeit.

They bills were made on a paper superficially similar to the fabric of US dollars, but definitely felt different to careful inspection. No interwoven colored fibers either. The watermakers were all off in some way or another, cartoonishly bad in one case. The fake security strip of one was poking a bit of plastic out the top. In fact, they werent even all the same size.

At first, I was horrified. An ATM giving out fake money? No, the fake money came at what I knew was the most suspect moment, the money flash. I broke a cardinal rule of travel, to never let anyone else touch your money. Why did I let him ever touch my money? It was because the other passenger did; he was naive, and I was a sheep, and we both lost our money. Or did we? Maybe they just swapped mine with his, and maybe he was in on it the whole time.

Then I thought further. His claim to trust was that he was associated with the police. Were the police in on it? Or worse, were they fake cops, employed by the local tourist office, knowingly sending off their trusting needy clients like lambs to slaughter. Those cops rescued me from the other scammers, were they all wolves fighting over fresh meat, or was everyone colluding from the start? I don't know, but Jesus, that reputation is earned.