Where 18 Santa Cruz, Bolivia - What makes a Bus 74 hours Late

Hi Peeps,

I wasnt going to write to you so soon but so much stuff has 'appenened since I last wrote (and the email here is very cheap - only $0.5 (35pence) an hour)........

From Salta in Argentina we decided to hitch over Chile across the Andes (see later) to San Pedro de Attacama from where I did a 3 day tour by 4wd through the mostly deserted but spectacular area of SW Bolivia arriving in Uyuni and then moving on by bus to Potosi, Sucre and now Santa Cruz.

First of all I must tell you (and remind myself) that despite what I am about to write, Bolivia is a massively interesting country with loads of natural wonders and coming from Brasil, Paraguay, Argentina, Uruguay and Chile, represents a huge cultural high. It really is a 3rd world country
for the most part and that implies poverty and unpredictability - and so getting massively pissed off is just the real cost of travel.

Lows
- A 16 hour coach journey from Sucre to Santa Cruz in a reasonable coach along mainly dirt roads doesnt sound too much of a challenge - especially if you can sleep through most of it. We left Monday at 5pm and were due to arrive in SC at 9am Tuesday. However I woke up at 6am Tuesday to find that we were in a traffic jam (unusual in the middle of nowhere). Once it got
light I walked to the front of the queue to find out what the problem was only to find a whole load of locals (mainly of native indian descent) with big sticks, grinning through their remaining teeth at a bridge piled with cut down trees. It was a protest by the locals against something which we later found out was energy prices and infrastructure (I think). So we retired to the local village and had stale rolls and minging cheese breakfast waiting for a solution or the police or army to arrive to sort the situation out and reopen the road. We heard loads of rumours and times when the road would be open again but no-one actually knew anything. We played
football with the locals. Then we had lunch plus more rumours. Then Dinner with beer and rumours. We resigned ourselves to sleeping in the coach a 2nd night with rumours thrown in. Breakfast - bread and cheese with rumours and hope. More hope with lunch (all lunches and dinners consisted of a small amount of chicken with a potato and loads of dry rice). Resignation with Dinner and rumours with beer as we settled in for a 3rd night in the coach.
Woke up to distinct rumours of hope (or do I mean hopeless rumours) of an end and had lunch with heightened rumours that the road would be open at 2pm. We went back to the front line to face a huge number (500 plus) demonstators with sticks, dynamite and a couple of guns (although I'm not sure they had any ammo) and witnessed a few clashes with the truck drivers as they advanced at 3pm. Hope faded as it always did and as if to add credence to the bonfires (to keep warm) a few fireworks (sticks of dynamite) were let off. The coach driver would not go back to the village as he didnt have enough fuel and so we tried to find some dinner amongst the people on the roadside. Somewhat embarressingly now (although joyfully at the time) the only place we could find with any food was a women standing next to the soup kitchen (which had run out of food) with stale bread and some onion and tomato cut up to put inside it. We were reduced to eating stale free handouts from the locals not because we had no money but because there was simply no other food. We settled in for our fourth night. I hope you are getting bored and thinking that you have better things to do at this point cos than you will know something of how we felt (there were a few gringos (foreigners) on the bus so at least I wasnt alone). Then suddenly just after midnight we were off and running - the bridge (one of the smallest I have ever seen) had been cleared and we were soon racing the other buses down the road. I next woke at 4am to find us going round another roadblock and then stopping. At 6.30am everyone was getting off in the semi darkness and starting to walk. We followed without knowing what wass happening and walked a short distance then were made to pass through various blockades in single file. Then herded like cattle into trucks with all our luggage and driven for about 10 mins to another roadblock where we got out. Then to complete our refugee status we started walking down the road. Ive never felt like a refugee before but this was it. Hundreds of people , mainly locals, with all their luggage walking down a road (through beautiful scenery it must be said but it was hardly noticed), not knowing where we were going other than assuming we were being shoved in the direction of Santa Cruz (there are no other roads in this part of the world so it is difficult to get lost). We all walked for about 2 hours and eventually got beyond all the roadblocks and grabbed a taxi for the 5 of us which took us to the next village where we got a bus to Santa Cruz. We arrived on the 5th day of our journey, 74 hours (over 3 days) late. That was Friday morning and the bad news is because I am so short of time I have to risk getting stuck again by getting on a bus for (HOPEFULLY ONLY)19 hours on Saturday night - to Brazil.

The really bad news is that I have to come all the way back again a few days later - I hope The Pantanal (Brazilian wetlands) is worth it!

- Crossing the Andes from Argentina into Chile was not as simple as it first appeared either. As there were no buses for a few days we (an american girl and I) decided to hitch. This involved taking two buses to start with for about 4 hours and then standing by the side of the road
waiting for traffic going our way - unfortunately there was none. So we then got on another 3 hour local bus to a small village 3,500m up in the Andes where we had to spend the night. There was only one place to stay and when we went into the local ´restaurant´ we were told they had no food whatsoever - luckily there was another one down the road. In the morning we got up early and asked round all the trucks waiting to goo across the border if we could have a lift. However oddly enough their ´company policy´ said that they could only take women and not men ...... and so no one would oblige in taking both of us despite them having plenty of room. We had just about given up hope and were about to catch the local bus back down the mountain when after 4.5 hours a guy with a large truck with ´Toxico´ and ´Corrosivo´ on it (I wonder what they meant) said he would take us although because it was a dangerous load he had to go slow and it would take us 9 hours. So 9 hours later after going up to 5,000m we made it to Chile. That was the first time, and the last time, I will be hitching in SAm.

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Must be time for some HIGHS

- The landscape around South Western Bolivia was astounding. Huge coloured lakes, white, green and red and I don´t mean slightly tinted either, with chalk, arsenic and algae in respectively, two of them had flamingos in despite the fact that the water is nearly freezing due to the high altitude (we are in the tropics here). The boiling mud field at 5,000m was a bit spectacular especially as it was snowing when we were there - yes in the tropics....... and I thought I had left all that stuff behind in Patagonia....

- The local villages, remote (apart from 4wd tours!) were really interesting. The locals depended almost entirely on llama and sheep farming and hence the village was awash with llamas wandering around looking down their noses at us - they do tend to look the most pretentious of animals - but kindda cute at the same time. The local women are very short and wide
around the hips they seem to go from being girls of 10 years old to women with 2 kids wrapped around them in a single step. The older women wear traditional blankets, brightly coloured skirts and of course bowler hats!
The men just wear ´western´ clothing.

- Not all Bolivia is 3rd world. I went to a nightclub in Santa Cruz (to celebrate not spending another night on the bus) and found the most trendy spot I have seen for a long time. Mime artists, stilt dancers and a whole row of huge beds (although people only danced on them). And the prices ....
I could have been in London!!


High or Low?

- I went to Potosi which claims to be the highest town in the world at over 4,000m. The town is full of superb colonial architecture as it was once the largest and richest place in South America due to the silver mine there. The mine in just a single mountain which overlooks the town with a total of 250km of tunnels in it and it is still mined today. We went up to the mine and found that the conditions were appalling. Imagine an English mine a couple of hundred year ago - really cramped tunnels we had to crouch to walk along, scramble under the dubious looking wooden beam supports and crawl up and down levels through tiny holes. With the only light coming from our traditional flame lamps (the are no gases to ignite down there) we could see asbestos flaking out of the walls (most miners live short lives due to lung problems and they wear no masks of any kind) as well as the occasional silver seam. The men worked in the most cramped spaces ´drilling´ holes 60cm deep in hard rock (takes 2-3 hours) with a hammer and chisel so they could dynamite the next 50kg of rock. All day they chew coca leaves (legal here) from which cocaine is derived, to stave off hunger and pain.
Supposedly no-one under 14 years old is allowed to work in the mine but no one really seemed interested in enforcing it.

We bought the miners coca leaves , 96 degree spirit and dynamite at the local market plus some dynamite for ourselves just so we could have an explosion. Once the fuse was lit (we were 70m away) we all lined up with cameras to capture the moment ....we waited as the fuse burned .... waited and waited ..... BOOOM we all jumped about 15cms in the air and none of us
got a shot. A few seconds late an Israeli girl staggered over and claimed we were trying to blow her up!!!

We were ´lucky´ enough to be ther on one of 3 days a year when the sacrafice llamas to bring them good luck (very supersdtitious lot these miners). First they stuff coca leaves downs its mouth then a cup of 96 degree spirit, then hold it down (it is still alive) and with what looked lke a vegatable knife slit its throat half way through. Blood spurted everywhere despite their best attempts to catch it in a bowl so they could splash all the mine entrances and machinery with it. Eventually it stoppped moving and then with 15 minutes they had skinned and gutted it and were ready to BBQ it. We had to leave before the feast unfortunately.

Anyway if you made it to here by reading it all - well done. If you just skipped to the last paragraph as usual then go back to the beginning !

Hopefully more good news next time................

Love
Pete