(belated entry - actually wrote this about a week ago)
So I´m in Bolivia but not without a little bit of trial and error.
My bus didn´t leave until midnight on Monday, and so the hostel kindly let me wait inside the hostel. It was all good and in the morning I had put some laundry in to be washed, with them saying it would be back by 10pm. Plenty of time. So I was relaxed, watching a movie when I realised that it was 11pm and I still didn´t have my laundry back. Getting a little nervous I checked with reception who assured me that it would be back in time. At 11.35pm it comes back and I rush off to the bus station, determined never to believe an Argentinian again about time or distance as they always exxagerate to tell you what you want to hear.
So I get to the bus station with plenty of time to spare, and feeling like a bit of an expert on these buses, find my seat, and prepare to launch into a deep dark sleep, hoping to make it last all the way. I was exhausted, as I had had little sleep from the night before as we had all gone to a reggae gig in town.
Unfortunately my best laid plans were thwarted, as after only 2 minutes of sitting in my seat, the conductor taps me on the shoulder and says that i have to leave. I have a ticket for the wrong day he says, my ticket is for tomorrow. Gathering my things in a bit of a dazed confusion, I know that there is no way that this is my error. I may not be fluent in Spanish but I had gone down to the bus station the day before, asking for a ticket for tomorrow (mañyana) and there is no way that that could be construed any other way. Of course, as I am frustrated any Spanish I know goes out the window and I start speaking in English, getting myself very upset and bursting into tears as I did not want to have to wait an entire nother day. I was here now, and now was the ticket that I had asked for. The conductor didn´t seem to care less, until my saviour appeared in the form of an amazingly fluent Spanish/English speaker who relayed how it had been a mistake from the company to the man. By this stage, I was aware that I was crying and everyone was looking at me (I hate that!). I was feeling very embarassed that I was crying but it seemed to work, as suddenly, the conductor who couldn´t care less, actually bent over backwards to get me there. The bus was full so I couldn´t stay for the full time, but he sorted out a plan that would get me there at roughly the same time).
Ariel, my new friend translated to me that I could have a seat until the next stop about half an hour away, but then would have to stand until Jujuy, and then change buses. I accepted this, grateful that I would get to the border as planned, even if in a slightly less comfortable fashion.
The first fourty minutes were fine, as I had a seat, and then I had to give up my seat to the rightful owner. I wasn´t prepared to stand and I had no idea how far away this next town was, so I sat on the cold floor, freezing and incredibly uncomfortable, not entirely sure how long I could sit this way for.
At this point, an Irish guy taps me on the shoulder and tells me that there is a little ledge at the back of the bus. Incredibly grateful for this, I find my new seat, still freezing but a hell of a lot more comfortable. Unfortunately that didn´t last as I had to sit there for the next hour and a half, feeling increasingly jealous at all the sleeping bodies around me, wishing desperately I could be one of them.
As planned I got off the bus at Jujuy but the bus that was supposed to be there at the same time, arrived 40 minutes later. Finally I got on my new bus, exhausted and promptly fell asleep.
Waking a few hours later at the Argentinian border town of La Quiaca, I had to find the border. Not signposted at all, I eventually found my way there,walked across and was processed by customs (incredibly easy). It all took quite a long time and once I found the bus station in the Bolivian border town of Villazon, I was certain that I had missed the bus to Tupiza.
But to my absolute surprise when I arrived, there were all the guys from the other bus (including Ariel the Israeli Spanish and English speaking guy who saved me the night before) and the Irish guy who had pointed out my slightly more comfortable seat.
Feeling a little like a ¨The Amazing Race¨contestant who was behind but caught up to the others when the bus was delayed, I was happy to reunite with these guys. Actually there were a lot of us. Somehow we had collected 10 people, and once we got to Tupiza we checked into a hostel, and are going to do the Salt flats in 2 groups of five which makes it a lot simpler and cheaper.
So anyway, an eventful night, but I did make it in the end and that´s the important thing.
