Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova (43 page)

The
next three days we stayed together and went out several times, to the cinema, to do some shopping including a hunt for the coolest sweater ever except that we couldn’t find the right size, even after visiting three shops of the same branch. There was none around and I had to be cold for a few more months. Marisol is a very sweet girl, very smart and has a good job, a bit shy and definitely marriage material. I might visit her again someday.

The
route to Punta Arena was closed due to an earthquake that had destroyed the only road there. Marisol called almost fifteen bus companies and tried everything but alas, the road was closed for at least a week and I was running out of time. I had to move on despite having such a great time with her.

When
she waved goodbye to me at the bus station I wondered if I’d ever meet a sweet and beautiful girl like her again and if I was a fool for letting go yet another beautiful girl who was crazy about me.

Chile
– Calama – San Pedro

I
stopped for half a day in the city of Calama, which has the world’s biggest open copper mine. It was one of those giant mines you see on the Discovery channel sometimes, absolutely huge. It was an interesting experience to walk around there.

After
the tour I took a bus to San Pedro de Atacama, the place every tourist in Chile goes to, that I wanted to skip it for that very reason, but there was one reason that made me go there anyway. It made a good stopover on my way to Bolivia and Marisol had told me about her younger sister living there. For the second time on my trip I had a chance to do a double whammy: the two-sister bang. I was close to it in the Philippines and I got another chance now. I’d thought it through on the bus and decided to go for it. I would feel like a rotten bastard later.

I
met Marisol’s younger sister a few days later and we went out. The sister thing turned out to be just another dream. She had a boring boyfriend who was a nice guy but totally unable to stand up to her. He was friendly though.

Marisol’s
sister was a lot wilder than her and got really drunk. We smoked some weed afterwards with a bunch of people. The weed was really bad and we only had one spliff for a whole group of people.

Later on in my stay
I went on a tour with two Dutch girls. One of them was even taller than me and we went to a salt lake where you could float in the water. I didn’t go in the water all the way, it was really cold and I’d already had a runny nose for four weeks by then and didn’t feel like another four weeks of snottering and sniffing.

It was freezing cold while I was in Chile. Just because it’s South America doesn’t mean it’s automatically going to be warm – a lot of it is in the mountains, after all. Even in the hostel it was freezing again and I had to sleep with a beanie on. It was time to move to warmer places and I took the bus to La Paz.

Bolivia – La Paz

After taking another endless bus ride I arrived in La Paz, the capital of Bolivia. The Loki hostel was recommended by everyone I had met in the South, so I went there. Within the first hour of arriving, I met a Portuguese guy and his friend I’d met in La Serena and San Pedro, saw a Dutch girl I met in Cordoba, and also caught sight of Chrystal, the Australian girl I had met in Cordoba and Santiago. The Loki hostels are a chain of party. It’s all about parties at night and mostly aimed for the very young backpackers travelling on Mommy and Daddy’s money in their gap year. It was also a hangout for hipster backpackers.

The facilities were great, with nice big beds with fluffy blankets, nice bathrooms with piping hot water and powerful showers. I needed a good scrubbing after the horrible cold outside bathrooms in San Pedro.

At night there were parties where people would dress up and get stupidly drunk. Afterwards the whole group would go to local clubs, which were shitty at best.

Since I couldn’t really connect with the backpackers and was looking for a Bolivian flag, I only joined the parties the first few days.

I got to know two people working at the hostel, Judith who was German and Hench a massive and ripped black guy from England. One morning I was talking with him and told something about my website, and he said: “Oh shit, is that you? I’ve heard about a Dutch guy travelling and banging his way around the world.” I was like, “Yeah, that’s me.” Hench started shaking my hand and introduced me to another staff member, saying “This is that Dutch guy we talked about”. I can’t say that I wasn’t a bit proud of being “that Dutch guy” and having my reputation precede me. It reminded me of the time when I heard some English guys in Bali talk about a tall Dutch guy raising hell in
Cambodia. I was pretty sure they were talking about me at the time. The group was divided into guys hyping it up and others saying things like “That bloke’s a cunt”.

One
night I went out with the Portuguese guys and five young English girls. The girls gave off a party vibe but turned into a boring group when they started to play cards at a bar all the Loki backpackers went to. I still thought the two Portuguese guys had a chance with them but they didn’t capitalize on their chances and the girls soon lost interest. There were Bolivian girls around but most of them were very ugly.

At
the end of the night some hot girls came to the Blue house discoteca (an underground dump). They looked like they were richer, but were also very stuck-up when approached. Those who didn’t came with an overprotective boyfriend or orbiter shot me down or didn’t speak English. I went three times to this dreadful place and swore never to return to this dump no matter how many free drinks they gave away.

I
signed up for private Spanish lessons and went to a small office five times a week for two hours a day. The Bolivian girl teaching wasn’t that good at it and I should have asked for another teacher but since she had massive blowjob lips and responded well to my flirting I stayed with her. I pretty much fucked up my Spanish lessons by not having a really skilled teacher with only limited English skills and not doing my homework or any extra learning during the day. I had to sleep off hangovers.

One
night I went out to a place called Traffic, which is the only decent place to go out in La Paz, and saw a couple of Bolivian girls. Two of them looked like giant sluts and the other looked more decent. I approached the decent one, had a short talk and kissed her there. She was not bad-looking for a Bolivian girl, who are considered the least attractive girls in South America. Her name was Maria and I went out with her a few times. She was quite smart but in an annoying know-it-all way.

I
moved out of the Loki hostel and went to a two-star hotel, close to the city center but far away enough to be on real Bolivian territory so I wouldn’t see those damn tourists all day. The two-bed hotel room was almost the same price as a hostel bed at the Loki. I found it ridiculous to stay in a noisy dorm in the poorest country in South America. The only difference was the shared bathroom, which was a mess but had a good hot shower. It had one of those dangerous electric showerheads which were common in a lot of South American and Asian countries. You learn a great deal about how much you’re willing to take your life in your hands when you’re continually taking showers in places where there are live wires just hanging out of the showerhead.

Maria and I went and
saw
Transformers 3
in a local cinema. It was even more childish than the first two. We got into an argument while making out. Although good-looking she was a bad kisser and didn’t excite me much, plus it was freezing cold in the cinema, so when she touched my dick nothing happened there and she said it was small. The movie stopped twenty minutes before the end and the personnel couldn’t fix the problem. Welcome to Bolivia! When we walked out on the street I was not happy with her for saying I had a small one while she had never even seen the damn thing. It’s possibly the worst thing a girl can say on a date. She didn’t see the harm in it and that made me even angrier with her. I said I didn’t want to see her again for insulting me this way, said goodbye and walked off.

When
I woke up the next morning, I found she had send me a text message saying how sorry she was and that she had asked her girlfriends about the comment she made and they’d told her she was an dumb idiot for saying a thing like that.

We
met again and I took her to my room and banged the crap out of her. Maria wasn’t experienced at all and at one point I went extra deep. She asked me to stop because I was too big and she told about her Bolivian ex–boyfriend, who had a small one. I had made my point that night but wasn’t in a hurry to do it again.

One
night we went to a typical Bolivian disco party and that was fun. I was offered lots of free drinks and even had a funny dance with a young cholita. A cholita is a Bolivian woman dressed in traditional clothing, including a bowler hat. You will see them everywhere in Bolivia. They even have their own wrestling league, in the style of WWF.

For
some reason my Bolivian phone card stopped working and I never made an effort to call Maria again on a street phone or to buy another phone card.

I
was on a constant diet of rice and chicken that I bought in the neighborhood I was staying. Every night for at least two weeks I bought half a roasted chicken with potatoes, vegetables and a big bag of steamed rice for only four dollars. Enough for two meals. Although it was Bolivian street food, it was the only thing my stomach could hold without crapping my guts out all the time.

The
Spanish lessons were improving a bit but I hadn’t reached the level I’d expected after eight days of two-hour private lessons.

I
went out on a date with my teacher to a different cinema. I couldn’t wait to make a move on her and kiss those huge lips, but she kept giving me a head turn and saying no to it. She confessed she’d never been out with a foreigner and she was probably very conservative about kissing.

Well,
it was worth trying it anyway. Banging a school teacher had been on my list ever since I was a spotty teenager with a boner for his long-haired substitute math teacher.

During
the day I walked around the city a bit, did some writing for my websites or went to the Loki to eat lunch and use the free internet Wi-Fi there.

At
night I went out with a French guy and we went looking for the local Hard Rock Café. When we finally found a taxi driver to take us there and stepped out of the cab I saw two girls walking out the door, planning on getting in our taxi. I said with a loud voice “Where do you girls think you’re going? Let’s get back inside”. They looked at each other, smiled and went back in.

T
hey were playing reggeaton inside, and I saw Judith with a group of Israelis I knew from the Loki hostel. I turned my back on the girls I’d just lured back in to go talk to her. I saw them looking over to me from the corner of my eye and just when I thought they were about to leave again, I walked over to them and started talking. They were dressed up quite slutty and at first sight I wasn’t sure if they were hookers or not.

We
talked a bit and I started dancing with one of the girls, named Sierra. A few minutes later we kissed and she went wild on me. Lots of people in the hostel were looking over and I saw a bit of a disappointed look on Judith’s face.

Sierra
wasn’t Bolivian but Spanish, and she was a real rocker girl. We went to her apartment and some Swedish dude who was stupidly drunk tagged along with the other girl. Barely ten minutes after we got to the apartment, Sierra and I went to the bedroom and banged.

The
drunken Swedish guy left in the middle of the night, and the other girl said nothing happened but I had heard her moan a bit when I visited the toilet. I captured my Spanish flag that night and stayed five days at Sierra’s apartment. She had a big appetite for sex. We banged so much that I was physically exhausted all the time.

La
Paz happens to be the highest capital in the world, sitting at a 3600-meter altitude, and it’s hard to breathe in the center, where pollution is high, the streets are steep, you’re hit by thirty-five degrees sunshine, and the air is thin in the first place.

One
night Sierra and I went out to a rock bar having already had a bottle of wine before with a guy friend of hers. At the bar we drank some giant bottle of blue stuff. When we returned to her apartment I was quite drunk.

I woke up in the middle of the night and went to the toilet because I felt sick. I threw up really bad and got a nice surprise afterwards. The toilet didn’t flush. There was no water whatsoever and there I was in a girl’s apartment with a barfed-up toilet bowl. I didn’t know what to do so I just put the toilet seat down and went back to sleep. Luckily I woke up first and when I checked the water it worked again. I praised all the gods that morning for protecting me from huge embarrassment.

That day we didn’t do much because I was hungover, though Sierra felt fine. It was probably because she’s used to living at a high altitude. A high altitude is killing for your alcohol tolerance and gets you drunk quickly.

Sierra
, who was only twenty-one years old, was into very rough sex and wanted to get beat up and fake-raped by me. I’m not really into that but I’m open for all kinds of things. The more I beat and choked her the wilder she became. I even made a video of it. One time she came so hard that her legs were still lightly shaking almost fifteen minutes afterwards.