It’s a miracle I’m alive to write this story. If not for a strange— and still unexplained— series of events, I would certainly have perished in a terror attack while traveling in South America.
My Gap Year in South America
Over my family’s strenuous objections, I departed the States three months after graduating from high school and began a gap year based in Caracas. I previously lived in Venezuela as a short-term exchange student, so I already had friends and felt comfortable there. But before I settled in and found a job, I embarked on a tour of several South American countries with a co-worker from home.
Our South American Itinerary
Barbara and I flew from Caracas to Bogota, Colombia, and then to Quito, Ecuador. In Quito, we switched to land travel to save money and wound our way down to the Peruvian border. We crossed into Peru at Tumbes and eventually reached Lima— with the ultimate goal of staying with a friend and her family further south in Arequipa. The possibility of a terror attack while traveling never crossed our minds.
A Fateful Decision in Lima
Barbara and I spent a few days exploring the capital. We hadn’t encountered many English speakers on our journey and perked up when we heard British accents at a food market one afternoon. The young couple was traveling the world for a year and happy to hang out and trade stories with us. I don’t remember their names— only that one of them had red hair.
They, too, were headed to Arequipa, and we decided to join forces. The decision would ultimately spare their lives. But in the meantime, we bickered. Barbara and the Brits wanted to save money and take the bus to Arequipa. I was in no mood for the 18-hour ride and stubbornly argued in favor of the 1.5-hour flight. I was outvoted— and demonstrably unhappy about it.
Youthful Ignorance
There was only a hint of bigger trouble ahead. Before we met the Brits, Barbara and I stopped by the American Embassy to say hello to a friend there. Strangely, there was no one in sight— not even the usual guards. I picked up the phone used to call for assistance, and a Marine answered. I explained that my friend was waiting for us at the embassy. But he refused to let us in. We went back and forth for a minute before the Marine finally said, “Look, we’re in lockdown because of a threat to the complex. Try again tomorrow.”
Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) in Peru
I didn’t know it, but Shining Path (officially, the Communist Party of Peru), was active at the time. Shining Path was a far-left guerrilla movement that from 1980 until arguably 2012 sought to overthrow the Peruvian government and incite a cultural revolution. The insurgents attacked infrastructure, industry, government buildings, elections, and civilians. They pursued political assassinations, ambushed opponents, and relied heavily on bombings— including several at the US embassy and ambassador’s residence.
At its peak in the 1990s, Shining Path had about 3,000 militants. As more and more of its leadership was arrested from 1999 to 2012, the group’s size, influence, and activity waned. A small number of sporadic attacks, carried out by remnants of Shining Path operating under new names, were carried out since then.
Pending Transportation Strike
Barbara, the Brits, and I were oblivious to the guerrilla movement and its violent campaign when we reached the bus station in Lima at midday. Instead, we were focused on a looming transportation strike. That evening’s bus to Arequipa would be the last one for days— potentially even a couple of weeks. None of us could afford the added expense of being stuck in the capital. A lengthy delay might curtail our remaining plans or end our trips entirely. It was imperative we get on that bus.
A Strange Illness
I remember the Brits standing in line ahead of me and Barbara on my right when it started. My face and scalp began to itch fiercely, and my skin felt hot. The more I scratched, the worse it got. As I tried to maintain my composure in public, the discomfort spread to my shoulders and chest and down the rest of my body until I itched and burned all over.
Nothing produced any relief. The more I scratched— furiously, in the end— the worse it felt. But there was no bite, welt, discoloration or other sign that something was wrong. People began to stare as I continued to gyrate and complain to my companions in English. I protested there was no way I could handle an18-hour bus ride in that condition.
Back to the Hostel in Lima
Given the generalized nature of my discomfort, the group assumed I was allergic to either the bar soap or laundry detergent we used that morning at the hostel. We headed back to our nearby accommodations so I could rinse off and change clothes. But when I stepped into the shower, it was as if someone poured gasoline on a fire. Two members of our group had medical training— no one had a clue what was wrong with me or what to do about it.
Doctor’s Visit
At that point, we sought help. After considerable effort, we made an appointment with an English-speaking doctor and headed to his office. By then, we had no hope of returning to the terminal in time to buy tickets for the last bus.
As we waited in a small anteroom for the physician, my symptoms abruptly vanished. After roughly two hours of extreme distress, I felt and looked absolutely fine. The doc listened to my explanation, examined me, and concluded— despite my unblemished skin— I was suffering from “prickly heat”, or heat rash. He suggested I stay out of the sun and everything would be fine.
British Fury
The Brits were furious. They assumed I faked the whole thing to avoid taking the bus. Now their plans were disrupted indefinitely, and in their eyes I was selfishly to blame. Little did they know.
Barbara and I parted ways with the Brits at the doctor’s office. We never heard from the English couple again, and to this day I have no idea what became of them.
Flight to Arequipa
The next day, Barbara and I flew to Arequipa on our own. The plane was due to arrive around the same time as the bus, so we never told my friend, Gaby, that we decided to fly instead. After landing, we took a cab to her house and rang the bell. I’ll never forget the look on her face, or her family’s reaction, when they opened the door and saw us standing there.
The Terror Attack
Shining Path attacked our bus. Gaby and her family saw the report on the television news and told us there were no survivors. Just the burned out shell of the bus. For some reason, I assumed the guerrillas assaulted the bus and then set it on fire. But while drafting this article, Gaby told me the bus was likely bombed.
Even now, the British couple have no idea how lucky they were.
Cruel Fate
I deeply regret that other people lost their lives that day. Given the pending work stoppage, the bus was certainly filled to capacity with passengers who considered themselves fortunate to secure one of the last available seats. And I can’t help but wonder who took our spots. In one stroke, fate spared us and doomed four other souls.
Lessons Learned from a Terror Attack While Traveling
It’s an odd feeling to know you cheated death. But life is precarious and not to be taken for granted. And as inconvenient, disruptive, and upsetting as unexpected developments can be, I don’t question them anymore. I believe things happen for a reason, although it may take time to discern it.
You might be wondering if I worry now about terror attacks while traveling. The answer is no— I take prudent steps to stay safe and mitigate risks as best I can. And apparently I have a kick-ass guardian angel who rides shotgun with me and steers me clear of trouble.
I shared this story with my students for years before one of them observed something that oddly eluded me. The burning sensations I experienced waiting in line at the bus terminal, and later in the shower, were harbingers of the attack. I guess the universe does speak to us. Now I try to listen more closely.
Inexplicable Travel Illness
The prickly heat diagnosis never made sense to me. I’ve since researched the symptoms I experienced and talked to various medical experts in an effort to explain my sudden, extreme, and fleeting discomfort. So far, there’s no scientific explanation for what happened. And I’m OK with that.
Full disclosure: This story is entirely true. The featured image, however, was generated by AI based on the content of this article.
Stay safe while traveling. Always register your itinerary with the local embassy. And read my articles about travel safety tools and protecting yourself from pickpockets.
