Tri Border Belongs to Noone

Hmm this place is a funny little place. They take US dollars. They officially take Peruvian Soles, but the exchage arte is so awful you may as well use them for toilet paper. Don't carry too many up this way or try to buy many of them before you enter Peru. The Peso seems to have the best lasting value, but then I was planning on living in Colombia so it would. You can use Reals or Pesos on either side of the line, but you will get your change in the local currency of whichever side you are on (mostly). Beer has different prices despite a fixed exchange rate. The border does not really exist. We crossed back and forth for fun because internet was faster in Colombia. Look at mototaxi drivers if you can't remember which side you are on. They have to have helmets by law in Colombia. Its not the case in Brazil so there is a trade in helmet rental next to the flags. The nightlife goes until 3am or so in Leticia and till 6am in Tabatinga even though its an hour ahead. Its a little like making Central London a town, dividing it with Charing Cross road, with no new barriers etc but having Covent Garden an hour ahead of Leicester Square. Mental. Anyway the first night we had a hotel. Well Mauro and me did. The others went drinking. Helen stayed at Dollys. Mauro came home at 2.30am to wake me up and then back again at 5am when he and Dolly could not find a hotel. Great night sleep for me.

I seemed to be the only one who remembered to meet Dave, but he'd already negotiated his bike off the boat for 1/4 the price. We got some food and looked around. Helen's bag had still not arrived and never did. It was somewhere in Caracas last time they saw it, Iberian airlines is apparently unable to operate a telephone to contact its Caracas offices. They lost radio contact. Anyone would assume they were in a war zone. Heaven help them if they ever are. If they find it in the the Green Zone of Caracas, they are now to send it back to London for collection. I opted to stay at Dollys place for the remaining two nights as we had decided to stay for the weekend before pushing on, though we would send Dave's bike ahead of us. We went to a fiesta and lost everyone else seemingly. Dolly was stopped by the police on her bike for not having a licence plate (apparently you dont need one of them in Brazil either) and could not come to Colombia. Mauro left us and they went looking for somewhere. Some cute girls at the bus stop told us where we could go for a night out and we ended up in a bar. Got chatting with some Brazilian girls who were with some Colombian soldiers. Pulled one of them and the soldiers did not take too much offence. Dave went back and Helen had a fit when I decided to stay. She left pissed off and I waited for the two girls to come back. This Portuguese malarkey was hard work. They did not make it back the second time due to the rain and so I ended up chatting with a Colombian waitress. She taught me to dance a bit in the rain and I walked her home before turfing in for the night around 7am.

No sleep again. No wonder I am sick now when i look back on this. Could not be bothered to ring the girl as she ahd not made it back. Mind you, they should not have been riding motorcycles after that much drink. Dave and I went to the dock and loaded on his bike. They laughed at the fee they got and then were laughing less as they probably earned it, having to laod a 650cc trail bike onto a motorized canoe and get it across to Santa Rosa and unlaod it. Ticket guy was reluctant to reserve us a ticket and Dave did not want to buy one before his bike was ok. He ended up leaving his helmet and his passport behind so ahd to go back. I ended up with a long chat with the locals in the dockyard. Got invited to be their goalkeeper, joked around and generally enjoyed being back speaking Spanish and not the drunken version. Well except for the bar the night before. The customs and immigration people were arseholes though and we ended up going back and forth across the river to solve problems at both ends. Sometimes we even had to jump between boats on the Amazon as they switched direction. Leticia has some pretty parts (park and malecon), which I found when a boat took me to the wrong place. The last time I got back to Dave they were pushing his bike on, negotiated a fee and then wanted more because it was 'hard work'. This was par for the course seemingly in Peru. We grabbed some pizza and went to the festival of the dancing kids seemingly. Was a bit shit. Helen went back after we watched some military parades and I hung around for a bit, but was so knackered I went back to crash. Keep some US dollars for your fast boat tickets to Iquitos by the way as they give you shit exchange rates for the other 3 currencies. Pesos is the best of the rest.

No sleep again. The boat guys in the morning were wankers and were insisting they would wait for full passage and that locals pay the same we do. Liars on both accounts. When we got to the other side I kept shining my torch in one of the guy's eyes while the others went to immigration. God punished me for my childish petulance by making my chair leg fall through the jetty and sent me sprawling. Lesson learnt. Food was shit. Par for the boats. They kept complaining I tipped my seat back, when they said nothing to the dude crushing my legs. I kept it down. If you make boats for midgets with reclining seats, you can't complain if someone uses them. The boat ride is about 8 hours. I slept for all of it. That way it goes quite quickly. Preferable to travelling in the awful cargo hulk that Daves bike went in. Country number 50 (Vatican included). Welcome to Iquitos.