Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Villarrica Trip-Part One

Like I mentioned in the previous post, last week I went for a short visit to Villarrica. Thursday morning I headed over to the bus station. After narrowly missing my bus, I settled in to the five hour bus ride to Chillán. I ruled out taking the bus straight to Villarrica because that's more like 9 hours, which is way too long to be on a bus. Of course, this also meant my mom and Joe needed to pick me up in Chillán. Never again. Buses suck.

When I arrived in Chillán the first thing I said to my mom was "If I don't give you any grandchildren it will be because of this bus ride." It was that much fun.

I was surrounded by children. And not the cute ones that stay in their seats and sleep for the whole trip. These were the loud, rambunctious kind. I'm sorry, but my days off from work should always be child-free.

Child number one was sitting behind me. He liked to scream at the top of his lungs sporadically throughout the trip. He was the least annoying child on the bus.

Child number two was sitting in front of me. He didn't have his own seat, instead he sat on his mother's lap. His father was sitting in the back of the bus. Child number two liked to walk up and down the aisle. Each time he passed he would grab onto my armrest, thus getting his grubby, germ infested hands all over my arm. Toward the end of the trip he must have gotten tired because he decided walking six rows back was too much work. Instead he would scream at his father asking him for cookies.

Child number three was sitting across the aisle from me. He was the worst. If I knew he would have landed safely and unharmed, I would have thrown him out the window. He too did not have a seat. He was sitting on his grandmother's lap. Sometimes this got to be too boring and he would stand up on her legs and lean over and torture the world's most patient man sitting in front of him. He had with him, two toy cars which he drove across every available surface. All while making a 'vroom, vroom' noise. I watched in horror as he proceeded to lick his grandmother's face (she had a mustache by the way). Then, just to make my life so much more pleasant, his grandmother gave him another toy from her purse. This toy was a tube of candy that had a plastic monkey perched at the top. This plastic monkey from hell had two cymbals in its hand. And as you may have guessed, child number three could push a button and that damn little monkey would clap the two cymbals together. Whoever created toys that make noise should be sentenced to death. No wait, that's harsh. Those parents who bring noisy toys into confined spaces should have their parenting license revoked. Child number three spent a good 45 minutes pushing the button. And then just for good measure, he pressed the button for another ten minutes, inches away from the ears of Mr. Patient.


The worst part was that I forgot my headphones. So for five hours I sat there, unable to ignore the screaming, the car noises, the clambering cymbals or the licking (okay that last one didn't make noise). I had even made a new playlist just for the bus ride (I really like making playlists). At one point I actually started scrolling through my playlist trying to mentally tune out these three children from hell. It didn't work. It just made me sad.

Luckily, I didn't have to take the bus back to Santiago. But more on that later!

So take it from me, if you don't want your plans of having children squashed, make sure you bring headphones. Or cookies filled with poison.


  1. While I bemoan the loss of grandchildren from you, I can totally understand. And of course, I can also totally hope you change your mind at some point. The child licking the hairy grandmother's face....why? Why does a child do that and why should she have allowed it?

    Sadly, I remember having a toy, when I was very little, as the one you mention (the cymbal-playing monkey). Now I wonder if that's what caused my mother all her problems.

  2. On a separate note, but sort of related, there is somebody parked across the restaurant by our house, blaring music out of his car. It's also one of those WHY moments. Why is he doing this? I can hear Dream On by Aerosmith from everywhere in the house. And what with trying to keep track of the election results, which have me VERY nervous, and the wine I'm drinking, all I can think of is the monkey with the cymbals and wonder which one is worse.

    1. That's a tough call. I don't know which one is worse, Aerosmith or monkeys playing cymbals.