The inevitable Dodgy bus post, part 1

Crazy bus journeys are the heartbeat of great travel. The local buses were full of chewing gum, sock and general food vendors hopping on and off as the bus travelled through Asuncion. One journey enlivened by a woman so round if the driver slammed his anchors on I'm sure she'd have rolled down the aisle, her missing teeth didn't help concentration as she shouted a sermon before starting kissing people while requesting a handout, what for will forever remain a mystery to me. The longer journeys had so far proven slightly less eventful but the entertainment level was about to be ramped up as we made a move towards Encarnacion. We left Le Jardin with Louise, who was heading in the same direction. Louise was on the last few days of a twelve month tour and Encarnacion would be her last stop before heading home to Dublin. Having established there were busses almost hourly, we thought, rock up at the bus station, no drama. Our company of choice had no seats until the following evening which caught us a back. We opted for the first bus that we could get on, with only an hour to wait and at a bargain price. On arrival it appeared the bus was more of a local service than the swish double decker number in the poster! Why are they never like in the poster? Oh well, for 50,000 guaranis you can't complain, though we already had doubts that the promised five hours looked realistic. Leaving on time was a good sign but as more and more people started getting on it became clear that it was a full on local service, I began wondering how people were still finding seats at the back, before it became clear, they weren't, it was again standing room only. Less than an hour into the journey and a Paraguayan lady who was lets just say more mature than I am stood right beside me. Having noticed that it didn't particularly seem to be the custom to give up your seat I qickly processed a) If you give up your seat you could be standing for seven hours b) It's all about equality, right? c) She's not that old d) None of the locals are doing it and of course I gave her my seat. I wearily got out my book and settled in for a long journey. Interestingly they seemed to have selected the fattest man in Paraguay to check tickets. Not the ideal man for squeezing up and down the aisle. He was dressed in full corporate uniform, though his shirt had seen better days with the odd here and there. This situation was improved immensely when the first Chipa salesman got on (Chipa is a delicious doughnut like corn bread with cheese, sometimes in rings sometimes stuffed with mince), goody for us he was the worlds fattest, albino Chipa salesman. So as more people got on the fat conductor and the fat albino Chipa man fought for aisle domination rights. The controller's shirt gradually becoming untucked, revealing more holes. As the two of them moved up and down the aisle they were joined by small boys selling apples and lottery ticket For the record, apples seemed to outsell lottery tickets, Chipa outsold everything and the now slightly dishevelled fat controller won the battle for aisle supremacy I just hoped for a seat. Over an hour into the journey we finally made it past the outskirts of Asuncion and it was clear we were staring down the barrel of a lot longer than the promised five hour journey. Fortunately, not all the passengers were on the full trip and the standing room started thining and the lady I'd given my seat to got off (a gracias wouldn't have hurt). A couple of fine Chipa kept me going and it was down to settling in, the flat, dry campo stretched out with only the odd small village and a couple of small towns in between. By the time we reached Encarnation around seven hours after leaving I felt for Louise as she was already suffering a lower back problem. A dodgy bus, sure but we were happy to be there and the journey overall had been good. The search for the bus on the poster continues.