Crossing into Bolivia

I tend to get slightly anxious when going through customs. Maybe it´s the fact that I have been grilled by the Americans for one too many business trips, or perhaps I am still scarred from the harrowing experience trying to get into Vietnam a couple years ago. Whatever the case, these experiences, combined with my complete inability to communicate with the locals here, resulted in a slight twinge of anxiety as our bus FINALLY meandered into La Quiaca, Argentina, the border town to Bolivia.

It turned out that my fears were completely unnecessary. It was the most arbitrary border crossing I have ever seen! We didn’t need to speak with anyone to get the departure stamps from Argentina, we crossed on foot, and stood in line at what looked like a little shack. John was completely miserable looking, feeling very ill, coughing and wheezing something fierce. There were some white looking people in line behind us with backpacks, so it was a safe assumption that they were also tourists (it’s worth mentioning that in Northern Argentina and Bolivia everyone is quite dark. They look almost Phillipino. John and I with our shaggy blond hair garnish a lot of attention because we are not at all inconspicuous). Just to be polite, I asked the tourists where they were heading. They informed us that they were going to catch a bus to Tupiza, about 3 hours away, because the Lonely Planet said it was a cool place to go.Well as you may or may not know, John and I haven’t been travelling with a plan. Their plan sounded good to us, so decision made. Off to Tupiza we would go.

Bolivian Market

My first sniff of Bolivia being a third world, backwards country wasn’t just the shack that they called their customs office. It was the two guys crammed into a booth, wearing jeans. One read my passport number and information while the other guy punched it in–very slowly– to the computer. There was no dialogue, I got my stamp, and stepped into a whole new world. The smell and sound of old diesel engines permeated the air. People were peddling things all over the streets, from toilet paper to ice cream. Children and stray dogs ran around liberally. I love it. I don’t know what it is, but something about these crazy, backwards country fills me with energy. The chaos enthralls me.

We took a beat up cab to the bus station, which looked more like a market of mayhem, and as soon as we got out of the cab, John was mauled by petite Bolivian girls chattering away in Spanish. They pulled at his clothes and backpack, trying to communicate. ‘No entiendo!’ didn’t seem to ward them off either. Turns out they all wanted us to buy bus tickets from their terminal. It was a no-brainer, though: we bought tickets for the first bus out of there. After being scarred by buses, I was suspicious of the ticket price: about $1.50 CAD each for a 3 hour bus ride! Seemed unbelievable.

John was shaking and shivering as he bought some soup while we tried to kill time. We finallly boarded the hot, stuffy bus, which looked like it had seen better days. It was dark by this time so maybe it was good that we couldn’t see it for what it was. It was hot and stuffy and packed full. As soon as we bounced out of the bus station, they started cranking the tunes. No word of a lie, the first tune that they blared was Ace of Base. Yes, girlfriends and friends born late 70′s and early 80′s, ‘Wheel of Fortune’ was playing proudly and loudly from a distorted speaker and John and I could only grin at each other.

Within minutes I realized that the shocks on the bus were a thing of the past. Bumping around on their gravel roads, I felt like I was travelling around in a shopping cart. As if that wasn’t bad enough, a dreadful odor peirced the air and my eyes started watering. Turns out I wasn’t the only one grossed out. Within minutes, an over- zealous Bolivian ran up and down the isle with his finger permanently pressed on the trigger of a can of sickly sweet air freshener.

We did eventually arrive in Tupiza where we planned to stay put until John felt better. We muscled on our backpacks and set out to find a place to sleep for the night.