Bolivia - *Travel Special Part 1*

..."Peter, is this going to be another of your crazy train stories?" I hear you ask. The answer... yes & no. As the title suggests I am now in Bolivia. Probably about 800 miles north of Cordoba (maybe more!), which is where I told you I was going at the end of the last post. That was until a couple of crazy coincidences happened as follows.

 

Firstly I got up bright and early on Monday, packed my stuff and got to the bus station in plenty of time to buy my ticket to Cordoba. I went to the ticket office straight away and was asked a number of questions in spanish.. which I obviously got the complete wrong end of the stick about. I thought the guy said "Fecha or Noche bus", therefore meaning day or night bus. I answered Fecha. He printed my ticket, I gave him some money and looked. What he'd actually said was two different bus companies names! Flecha Bus is apparently one of these companies but their bus didn't leave Salta until 9:30PM. I thought, fine, my fault, I'll go kill some time around Salta, try other internet cafes to upload my photos etc.. So I left my rucksack at left luggage for the suspciously good price of 1 Peso - 25p, for the day and off I went.

 

This is where the coincidence comes in...

 

I was walking back to the centre and spotted another internet cafe I hadn't tried. I get logged in, onto MSN and to my surprise, Amanda whom I'd left in Paraguay a week ago is online. I say surprised as I hadn't heard from her in almost a week and to be honest, was getting worried.. Paraguay isn't noted for it's safety! To cut a long story short (and believe me there's still a fair bit of this to go!) it turns out she was no fan of Paraguay and had just got to Bolivia and wondered if I wanted to go meet up in Bolivia. I did, so began to try and work out how I would get there. A couple of hours later, I'd determined this was by bus and possibly train.. back to the bus station then!

 

I went and rambled some spanish to a guy in the ticket office at the bus station, who despite being most unhelpful in telling me about further connections, sold me a ticket to the Bolivian border. So unhelpful was this man, he couldn't even tell me what time it would arrive in the town - Pocitos. I got the bus and when asked the conductor told me it would be around 9:30. I was crossing my fingers and toes that I could get a night bus straight away so I didn't have to stay in another border town, there's something very strange about all the one's I've been to and I didn't think for a second that Argentina - Bolivia would be much different.

 

I was right... half an hour late, at 10PM, I arrived in Pocitos. It was all very dark, apart from the bus station. I got off the bus, and I looked around and there appeared to be no ticket offices open. Great, I thought, I'm not getting a bus to Bolivia tonight! Then two men popped up and asked where I needed to go, I told them and they said there was a bus that left at 10:30 to Santa Cruz, Bolivia and they would show me where I needed to go.

 

So, I followed them as they walked me first though customs, I got my stamps, and to the international bridge where they said some 3 Bolivian men would help me through to the bus station. It was at this point things got a little hairy. With one foot in Argentina and one in Bolivia, another Argentine joined the two that met me at the station and the three Bolivians on the other side. The Argentine´s were demanded US$50 for an "exit" tax. At first I tried to buy them off with $5, but it became clear this wouldn´t work, when the didn´t go away. I didn't actually have 50, but I managed to buy them off with a few pesos as well. Altogether I gave them about 20 Pounds. 

 

The Bolivians were a little more gentle and after visiting the Casa de Cambio at 10PM Bolivia time (1 hour behind), I managed to get away from them with only giving 4 Pounds. Then a sketchy taxi ride via an ATM got me finally to the bus station... only to find there was no bus! Fortunately there was a hotel opposite. I say fortunately, but I may well have been better sleeping in the bus station.. the lights didn't work and I would´ve been warmer on a Polar iceberg! Nevertheless, I got about an hour´s sleep before 6AM when I got up and crossed the road to the bus station. Thankfully I managed to buy a ticket straight away for the 8:30 bus to Santa Cruz and for some reason got charged less than the locals. Gringo tax rebate perhaps? 

 

The bus departed almost on time and I had a window seat which allowed to see all sorts of crazy goings on. First there was all manner of animals running over the roads and around the bus: goats, cows, dogs, pigs, chickens. It's lucky they were skilled in the art of recognising what a horn meant, as I don't think our bus driver would be handing out mercy very readily. Then there was police checkpoints which we must have stopped at least ten times for. Fortunately I only had to show my passport once, and at all the others the driver ran into the hut and out again in a matter of seconds. At every single one of these there were drinks and food sellers which would either board the bus or walk up and down selling through the windows. On one occasion they were so busy selling, they "forgot" they shouldn't have been on the bus while it was moving and got a free unwanted lift 3 miles down the road or in many places dirt track. 

 

After watching the sunset behind the mountains, there was less and less that I could see. Suddenly the woman next to me on the bus piped up and started asking me some questions (in spanish). I had watched this woman curiously when she got on the bus as she appeared to be talking to her blanket. I knew Bolivia had a different culture, but talking to blankets?! Had my insomnia that I'd had for a few days now, finally sent me insane? No. As the journey continued, out popped the head of a tiny puppy. Very cute. Anyway.. she started asking me the usual: "where are you going? Where are you from? How old are you? What do you do in England? etc. etc." I managed to answer back most of the questions in spanish of some sort, although probably not all that correctly judging by her laughing.

 

I got to Santa Cruz a little later than was planned. Still, I was mighty relived after 11 hours on the sweaty bus. The Bolivian woman from the bus kindly got me a taxi so I didn't get ripped off, and I made my way to Calle Arenales to meet Amanda. Despite the taxi driver trying to drop me off at the wrong address - I know how to pronounce numbers, so it must've been his hearing, no wonder with the decibels his horn was pumping out - I finally made it to the Residencial. It was good to see a friendly face again after a crazy journey. Luckily she had found some good places to eat and we went to a great, but cheap one. Enough crepe was had to fill me up after not really eating for a day and I must have drunk there mineral water supply dry, I was so thirsty.  

 

We spent a couple of days more in Santa Cruz before starting the journey to Tarija, which is where I am now. But that journey is another story as they say, crazier than this one and you're going to have wait a few days more for that because it'll probably turn out as long again! Hmm it'll keep you wondering, I guess. Until then.. adios!