Written on 26-07-14 between Villazon and Potosi
After a lovely three weeks, it was sadly time for Flora to pack her things and go back home. She did so with grace: "Allez les filles- NINJA!"
As for us, we're now on our way to meet Francois in Bolivia!
We started our day by going to a lavaveria and were delighted by the smell of clean clothes (in case you haven't noticed from our photos there is a lot of redundancy in our outfits).
We've heard from other travellers that food is not Bolivia's forte so we stocked up on our Argentinian favourites at the supermarket. We also wanted to get our fill of vitamins as it may be risky to indulge in raw fruit and veg once over the border so for lunch we had huge bowls of salad and a fresh orange juice before boarding a bus to La Quaica.
We arrived late in the evening and although we were still in Argentina it felt worlds away from what we had left. There were no longer houses but huts built out of sandstone with aluminium roofs. The Aztec and inca printed materials were no longer only aimed at tourists but featured in every individual's clothing, bags and packages. Marie-Antoinette style skirts are layered over tights and lama printed leg warmers giving them a slightly less Versailles-chic feel.
Once arrived at the hotel, we got quite excited when we spotted the electric heater in our room, it's only the second time we've had heating during the trip.
However our enthusiasm was considerably dampened this morning when the hot water tap remained non responsive. When we asked at reception we were greeted with a curt response insinuating that it was obvious that the water had frozen overnight and that if we knew anything about the world we wouldn't even be asking. No shower for us then! At least our clean clothes might have masked the smell.
To get to Bolivia we merely had to walk over a 10m bridge and without pretence or ceremony we set foot on Bolivian soil. Street art decorates the town making it even more alive and welcoming.
Heavily laden with our bags, emergency food and layers we walked through the bustling streets of Villazon. Not a cafe in sight, street stalls and vendors clustered the pavements, offers of traditional food and "Adidas" and "Hollister" clothing were pressed upon us.
We made it to the bus station and bought tickets to our next stop, Potosi. The departure was at 8 in the evening so we had a lot of time to spare in the small border town. After settling down in the sun we started reading our Bolivia guide. We both got slightly alarmed when reading all the warnings about drunk drivers, inexistent buses, cracked windows, worn-out tyres and dangerous night driving. We attempted to seek reassurance with two other backpackers sitting near us. They shrugged off our worries so we decided to take matters into our own hands and forget about our B$40 bus tickets (less than 4£). We started bartering with drivers of colectivos (big taxis that locals share). After much back and forth, whispering between them, and doubtful looks between ourselves, we were finally hustled (quite literally since the driver was stealing us from the van of his angry competitor who promised revenge) into a car to our destination.
We regularly stopped for hitchhikers who could fill what we saw as the single free space in the car. Our driver was quite abrupt with his conditions and drove off without responding when the person did not meet his criteria. He ended up picking up not one but three extra passengers! A tight squeeze but a true local experience. As for us, he stopped the car once out of town and asked us to "hand over the money"; we can't help but ponder about whether he could have just left us there on the side of the road. And now we're sitting tight (no seatbelts obviously), next to four locals with Latino classics on repeat booming out of the radio. Hopefully we'll make it to destination!
Capucine and Cécile
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