We arrived at La Quiaca the Argentinian border town facing Bolivia. It was 615am and literally freezing cold. Loads of people had gathered and crammed into the decaying bus shelter, some sleeping on the floor, many half falling off chairs. Most were carrying their own blankets and they obviously had done this before. It was definitely the first real indication of poverty and I am guessing many of these people were Bolivians. By now we realised that English was a redundant language, spoilt by Chile and Argentina, we now really had to use Spanish! Even the information centre guy didn't speak a word. At this point I frantically looked for our trusty Oxford Spanish-English dictionary, and I smirked as I realised I left it on the bus....
After 45 minutes we realised that as no-one was heading to the border and that we must be in the wrong place as the crossing opens
at 7am, and that time had passed.
We made an effort to communicate with a local guy, and using our entire vocabulary of about twenty words in one sentence, lots of hand movements and directions comprised of pointing and repetition, we established where we should go and walked about 1km to the border. It was situations such as these that we were so happy we sent our big backpacks home and were carrying only a 35L bag. We were free to roam and explore!
We met a couple of Aussies and they were heading for the crossing too. As we approached we realised how apparent it was that we were entering a land of poverty, a stark contrast to Chile and Argentina. Even if this was not a fair representation, it's certainly how we felt. With dawn slowly approaching, the atmosphere was added to by the eeriness of darkest still present . It's also the first crossing we have encountered where the office is outside, and at 3200 m we certainly felt the cold. Indeed the small flowing river adjacent to the office had half frozen, struggling it's way down the valley like treacle.
We waited in amongst a long cue of Bolivians holding their blankets and possessions closely, waiting patiently to be stamped in and out. We did the same to the mercy of the immigration officer. What struck me was the peacefulness and calm manner of these people. No anger or frustration, and a smile and 'Ola' at every opportunity. We immediately felt the warmth of the Bolivian people, and once again adding to our impression that the poorer a nation, the warmer and kinder the population. We felt at ease.
Surprisingly little delay we got our stamp with pride, and within ten seconds a local boy saw we wanted a picture with a Bolivian sign in the background and duly obliged to take a picture for us.
By now the suns rays were peering over the horizon and we made our way up a hill towards the 'estacion autobus' (grammar not included).
We passed many shanty shops, stalls selling socks, and people selling bread and sweet coffee. We also saw a guy selling 'herbal tea' which we avoided and later learnt it was probably coca leaves. The natives swear by this as treatment for altitude sickness. We stayed clear.
Before we knew it we were on a bus full of locals heading for a town called Tupiza. Exhausted from the overnight bus from Salta, we desperately tried to stay awake and absorb some of the stunning rugged mountain scenery. Dark red mountains covered the landscape, and towered over our insignificant selves. I felt that here God must have got angry and tortured the landscape into an unimaginable oasis of non-uniform giant spectacles, that one can only be in awe of. Very different atmosphere from the elegant snow-capped mountains of New Zealand.
We arrived in Tupiza about 2 housr later to a desert like town that reminded us of a western film. Sandy roads and pavements, surrounded by red mountains and the odd bush. Wide roads and streets with many wooden and mud like structures. The occasional quaint Spanish building adding elegance yet simplicity to this little town. Our excitement we could not hold back. For us we were in our element, simple beauty.
We found somewhere to stay with ease, and fell in love with a boutique hostel called La Torre. We also booked our Salar de Uyuni salt plain tour for 2 days time. We needed a day to chill and did just that!
Bolivia Day 2- August 13th
Perched at 3000m we have acclimatised quite well and therefore had a good nights sleep. However since arriving in S.America Sophia has suffered with jet lag, and in a way I have to. Mainly because every time I woke up in the middle of the night, Sophia would be eagerly looking at me with a beeping smile and thumbs up, hoping I could wake up and keep her company in her jet-lagged over energetic state. Of course I just fell back asleep but this did on occasion amuse me. By morning I was ready to go and Sophia was of course fast asleep, which didn't amuse me.
Anyhow the bottle of wine in Salta did help us sleep and reset our body clocks.
Today we wondered the streets enjoying the peaceful and laid back approach of the Bolivian people. We had coffee and cake opposite a cool looking colourful bicycle repair shop, and also went and bought a new digital camera. A bit of a risk but as I managed to break Sophia's Nikon, we couldn't bear travelling the salt plains, apparently one of the most beautiful things to see in S.America, without a decent camera. For £100 we were sorted.
We had some lunch at a local outdoor restaurant, a compilation of spit roasted chicken, rice and chips, all for £3.50. We the headed for 2 hour walk up a mountain called La Crus', which means 'the cross'. Perched over the town on the top of the mountain is a giant beautiful white crucifix. We headed up and took in the breathtaking views, which when combined with the altitude, made this a literal expression. However it was worth every breath. The town is seated in a valley, and once at the top there were literally 360' mountain views. In every direction different colours from reds to greens covered the rugged landscape. With the sun bearing down breaking the chill, we stayed there until sunset.... Beautiful.
On our way down, as night fell we first encountered a middle aged Bolivian lady waiting for a bus. As we approached the bus arrived on the other side of the road and the lady sprang into action. I noticed two things. First she had the after effects of polio in her right leg, secondly she had at least five large bags by her side. The bus man ran across the road and started ferrying a bag to the bus. I decided to help! Firstly the bus man was half my size, secondly the bags were at least 40kg each. I pathetically pretty much failed to carry a bad single handedly, but instead to save embarrassment the bus man and I shared the load by carrying a bag between us, about 3 times. Sophia helped to and by the end of it we were exhausted!!
The little lady couldn't stop thanking us as she hurriedly dragged her right leg and another bag onto the bus. It was only afterwards that i realised that my pathetic ability to carry a bag alone was witnessed by the bus full of Bolivians. I can only imagine the amusement that would have caused....
To top off the day, as we walked towards our hostel, a 1960's splitsceen campervan, pickup truck style, pulled up in front of us. We almost fell to our knees in awe. Sophia frantically getting the camera out of its case, and I almost jumping in front of it, caused the poor driver to start laughing and just switch off the engine and let us take a picture. It must have been organised by that lady we helped because 30 seconds either way and we would have never seen it... Fate it seems.
Later we looked at the picture and noticed a sign in the window saying 'EnVerde'. Having replaced our lost dictionary we looked it up, 'For Sale'. We pondered at how much he would sell it for, or how much a poor Bolivian would pay for it. £200-£300 maybe less? Little does that poor man know that he is in possession of one of the rarest vintage VW's worth over £15000 in the UK. A figure equivalent to a lottery win in Bolivia.
A great day.
