Greetings one and all from sunny old Bolivia.It´s taken some time but I write you all now from the amazing city of La Paz,high in the Andes.How I got here has been quite the adventure so grab yourselves a coffee and settle in for my latest installment.
My last night in Humuahaca proved to be the best of all as a really great group of people had turned up and we had a huge communal dinner together in our little hostel.Lot´s of beers and bottles of red wine were drunk and the owners of the hostel proudly displayed my little trophy as if it was an Olympic medal.They were so funny ,as earlier on in the day they had made such a fuss over me that I didn´t have the heart to tell then that I actually came last.The trophy was all they cared about and all the assemble family members and staff had a go at holding it.Very funny!It was cool to be able to leave Argentina on such high note and I was now looking forward to what adventures Bolivia would bring.
The next morning I rode my bike and trailer down to the bus stop and began the process of dissassembling everything so that it would all fit inside the bus.Luckily for me the bus wasn´t full and there was no wories at all loading it on.I was happy to not have to ride this section as from the bus windows it looked very uninispiring.We did pass through some wonderful canyons not far out of Humuahaca but as soon as we hit the Alti-Plano it was very boring scenery indeed.I did manage to discover what must be the ugliest town in Argentina ,if not the world.Tres Cruses sits at about 3700meters above sea level and for the life of me I couldn´t figure out why it was even there.Row after row of ugly concrete blocks were divided up into little homes,each a carbon copy of it´s nieghbour.There didn´t seem to be any indusry or any store for that matter so really who knows what they are all doing there.Thankfully I didn´t have to spend much time in this wind-swept hole.
My travelling companion was a young Peruvian guy who had been staying in my room at the hostel in Humuahaca.He was the first Peruvian that I had met and kept me enertained with stories of his trip around South America and of his life in Peru.He is a Systems Engineer at a bank in Lima and is the son of a Doctor.It was his medico father that had sent him on this trip to learn about the rest of the continent so he could better understand the tense polictical situation in his home country.He shocked me when he asked if I would help him get through Bolivian Immigration as he was very worried about how he would be received in Bolivia.Apparently Peruvians are not too popular in Bolivia,the result of conficts´ past and very long memories.He told me how fortunate he was to have a good job that paid him well and allowed him the luxury of travelling.His father was in the process of trying to get him into an Australian University so he he could escape the potential political problems that are currently brewing in Peru.His first problem was solved by me though when I found that he had left his wallet with all his cash,credit cards and Identification on the bus when we go to the border town of La Quacia.The look on his face when I handed him his wallet outside the bus was priceless.I´ve not seen such a look of shock in a long time.The poor bugger must have aged a few years on the spot.
The next task was to put my bike and trailer together again for the short trip to the frontier zone . With the usual dozen or so onlookers that I always attract I soon became the center of attention yet again.This time though I felt like I was part of some sort of strange third-world pit crew as each part that I needed to assemble my gear was handed to me with expert timing by a small group of street urchins that had decided they might make some quick cash by handing me a wheel,a bungy cord,my seat-post or any number of parts that had been spread around the apron of the bus terminal.Charity was not the word of the day though and I soon wheeled my"world on wheels"away from a dissappointed group of would be thugs.Luckily my Peruvian mate was big and scary looking and the moment passed without fuss.
At the border we dutifully filled out our forms and made it through easily.Once on the streets of Villazon,Bolivia though,the stark reality of entering Sth Americas´ poorest country soon hit hard.Everything was dirty and there seemed a general mood of distrust spread through the assembled massses as we walked through the little town toward the train station. There things just got worse!We had arrived in Bolivia just in time for a national bus strike and the result was that the train station was jammed with people trying to get a train ticket to anywhere.I joined the line and my mate from Peru told me he was going to hitch a ride on a truck.I,with my gear,obviously couldn´t do that and we parted company with best wishes all around.
The mood at the ticket counter was turning ugly and several very well armed army types were called into duty to control the ever-maddening crown of about one hundred and twenty.I had made my way to near the front of the line after a couple of hours and with the impending depature time looming was hopefull of securing a berth.I hadn´t however, planned on the mood of one certain ticket seller.Seems the electronic ticket machine had broken down and he was now refusing to sell anymore tickets for the three quater full train.Thankfully the Captian of the ever growing military presence had the good sence to get the man in charge of the train into the office.After a very public screaming match during which the obviously vacant seats were pointed out the ticket man relented and we were on course for a ride to Ororu seventeen hours away.That was until,just as it was my turn to get my ticket, an old lady pushed in front of me and demanded to be served.Well that was it,he stood up sweared at the old lady,shut the register draw and pretty much told the whole world to go and get f$]%ked.There would be no more tickets sold for that train today.He was though, more than happy to start selling us tickets for the next days train.This announcement made me glad that the soldiers had not left thier posts beside the remaining twenty or so gringos at the front of the line.You see,there had been waiting very patiently, about fifty locals who wanted to buy tickets for the next days train and since they had been waiting for hours they were not about to let us steal their seats.The crowd lept as one to their feet and made a charge for us,help back only by the very large guns that were now drawn and being used as shields to protect us.Cool heads prevailed and at the request(order with a big gun involved)of my new mate ,Scary Capitan Bolivian Soldier we all took our places at the end of the line and resigned ourselves to the prospect of staying in Villazon for the night.
Not to be put out by this little hiccup I quickly befriended a couple of Irish girls in the crowd and they told me about an hotel that they had found just accross the street from the train station.I quickly ran over and booked myself in for the night and then went back to the station to wait in line for my ticket.Turned out that there would be a lot of us staying in the same place and it was fun being the only guy hanging out with six Irish girls,one Aussie girl and one girl from Buenous Aries.Once we had secured or tickets for the next day and settled into our rooms it was off to explore the ugly streets of Villazon.
I will say one thing,I couldn´t help but think that this town reminded me of my travels in northern China.My parents lived for some time in the city of Tianjin which is situated just below Beijing and the stark concrete buildings of Villazon are indeed very similar.The parks and gardens,also featured an overabundance of concrete and the way that the trees,with thier trunks painted white to a hight of three feet,all individually circled by iron railings gave off a distictly sterile, communist feel.The fact that fall has arrived,stripping the trees of colour only added to the grey,depressing scene.
No depressing scenes for me though as after our little excursion four of us decided to have ourselves a little slumber party of sorts in my room.As I had a room with a T.V in it three of the girls decided that a movie marathon was the order of the night and so with blankets and sleeping bags keeping out the night chill we settled in for a few hours of mindless entertainment.First up The Terminator followed by Independance Day with copious amounts of junk food and some really cool, hippy vego fare prepared by the little Aussie chick who is spending her time in Sth America camping in peoples back yards.Way too much fun for a datless white boy!
The next day it was a liesurely day hanging out before we boarded our train for the trip to Ororu.I had decided, as the bus strike was still going on, that would ride from Ororu to La Paz.The ride would be about 227k (140miles) long and with the altitute should take me two and a half days of easy riding.First things first though and I had to handle the executive class train trip before any riding was to be done.The train itself was great.Very comfy and with four cheesy movies to watch, mixed with the amazing scenery,some great food and a bit of sleep.Thankfully I did go top class as at least our car was heated,unlike those cheap backpackers who had to endure sub-zero temps in cattle class.It was going to be tough though to get on my bike after such a long train trip and start my ride north to La Paz.No getting around it though,it had to be done .
Once the train stopped at Ororu I had to excersize all my patience as it took forever for them to locate my four bits of luggage.My backpack,trailer bag,trailer and bike had all been put in different places so it took some time to make sure they had all arrived at all.It did give me some time to change into my bike gear on the platform though,much to the amusement of the local police who were very interested in my ride and all my gear that I had scattered al about.I gave another demonstration on how to assemble all my gear only to find both my front tyre and trailer tyre were flat.Another free lesson to the assembled rabble and my tyres were fixed and finally I was off.
After asking directions from some old guy at the local gas staion it was northward bound through another dirty,chaotic Bolivian city.This time though it was fairly simple,just head north along that road and you will get to La Paz.That was,until the damn road ran out and I was Xterra-ing my way through some very dodgy nieghbourhoods,following the now disused train lines,much to the disgust of the local canine population who seemed to have organised an anti bike coalition.It was the first time I had been chased by any mutts and thier enthusiasm more than made up for my previous doggy drought.It wasn´t long before I did find the highway north and was soon heading toward the distant mountains that dominated the landscape.
The only problem I was facing was the fact that Ororu was at 3700meters and the road before me seemed to rise ever so gently higher, with no end in sight.Combine this with the first killer headwind of my trip and you can imaginge what sort of day I was having.The first town was 37k(22miles)away and the road was dead straight all the way to the horizon, shimmerring in the afternoon sun.This stretch took forever and I was beginning to think that it was going to be a very long day at the office for me.I was glad by this time that I didn´t have my watch anymore as not knowing the time was a blessing.I just put my head down and rode for hours until the air temperature became just too cold and I figured that I´d better find myself somewhere to camp before I forze.Surprisingly I had made it to my planned destination for the night,the little town of (no not Bethehem) Belem and bought some supplies from a very nice old man at a run down little store in the main street.The attention I was getting made me bid a hasty retreat from that town and I rode on for about another 20 minutes until I found a great campsite hidden from the highway by a little grassy knoll.It was perfect cover and I was sure I wouldn´t be seen by any nastly little Bolivian crimminal types.The days total was around 85k(52miles) of hellish headwinds and elevation gains but I was happy that I´d made it so far under those conditions and was sure that I would indeed make it to La Paz by lunch on my third day.
I quickly went about the task of setting up camp and the first thing on the agenda was to fire up my stove and get dinner ready.While supper was heating away(I wish I was)my little nylon casa was erected and made ready for sleepy-time.I was beat and looking forward to bedding down for the night with a full belly so as soon as my pasta dinner was done it was wolfed down and I was in my sleeping bag trying to get to sleep before the cold crept in to ruin my night.
I didn´t take long to get to sleep but as had become normal at this altitude,sleep was a relative term.My heart-rate drops so much at night that I now found myself waking periodically through the night gasping for air.The first couple of times were scary but now it is just one of those things and I deal with it.This nights restlessness was to allow me to experience a truly remarkable phenomenon.It was so cold inside my tent that I was forced to put on many layers of clothing in order to keep warm.In what must have been the early hours before dawn I woke up shiverring and as I turned my headlamp on to put on my second fleece sweater I noticed the inside of my tent was covered in what looked like a million little stars.The fact that I could quite clearly see my breath gave the illusion away.Those little stars were actually ice-crystals covering the entire inside of the tent as well as the foot of my sleeping bag.I don´t know how cold it was but the frozen water bottles inside my tent made me assume it was way below zero.More layers of clothing were added and suprisingly I drifted off to a very deep sleep dreaming of what the next day on the high alti-plano would bring.
My last night in Humuahaca proved to be the best of all as a really great group of people had turned up and we had a huge communal dinner together in our little hostel.Lot´s of beers and bottles of red wine were drunk and the owners of the hostel proudly displayed my little trophy as if it was an Olympic medal.They were so funny ,as earlier on in the day they had made such a fuss over me that I didn´t have the heart to tell then that I actually came last.The trophy was all they cared about and all the assemble family members and staff had a go at holding it.Very funny!It was cool to be able to leave Argentina on such high note and I was now looking forward to what adventures Bolivia would bring.
The next morning I rode my bike and trailer down to the bus stop and began the process of dissassembling everything so that it would all fit inside the bus.Luckily for me the bus wasn´t full and there was no wories at all loading it on.I was happy to not have to ride this section as from the bus windows it looked very uninispiring.We did pass through some wonderful canyons not far out of Humuahaca but as soon as we hit the Alti-Plano it was very boring scenery indeed.I did manage to discover what must be the ugliest town in Argentina ,if not the world.Tres Cruses sits at about 3700meters above sea level and for the life of me I couldn´t figure out why it was even there.Row after row of ugly concrete blocks were divided up into little homes,each a carbon copy of it´s nieghbour.There didn´t seem to be any indusry or any store for that matter so really who knows what they are all doing there.Thankfully I didn´t have to spend much time in this wind-swept hole.
My travelling companion was a young Peruvian guy who had been staying in my room at the hostel in Humuahaca.He was the first Peruvian that I had met and kept me enertained with stories of his trip around South America and of his life in Peru.He is a Systems Engineer at a bank in Lima and is the son of a Doctor.It was his medico father that had sent him on this trip to learn about the rest of the continent so he could better understand the tense polictical situation in his home country.He shocked me when he asked if I would help him get through Bolivian Immigration as he was very worried about how he would be received in Bolivia.Apparently Peruvians are not too popular in Bolivia,the result of conficts´ past and very long memories.He told me how fortunate he was to have a good job that paid him well and allowed him the luxury of travelling.His father was in the process of trying to get him into an Australian University so he he could escape the potential political problems that are currently brewing in Peru.His first problem was solved by me though when I found that he had left his wallet with all his cash,credit cards and Identification on the bus when we go to the border town of La Quacia.The look on his face when I handed him his wallet outside the bus was priceless.I´ve not seen such a look of shock in a long time.The poor bugger must have aged a few years on the spot.
The next task was to put my bike and trailer together again for the short trip to the frontier zone . With the usual dozen or so onlookers that I always attract I soon became the center of attention yet again.This time though I felt like I was part of some sort of strange third-world pit crew as each part that I needed to assemble my gear was handed to me with expert timing by a small group of street urchins that had decided they might make some quick cash by handing me a wheel,a bungy cord,my seat-post or any number of parts that had been spread around the apron of the bus terminal.Charity was not the word of the day though and I soon wheeled my"world on wheels"away from a dissappointed group of would be thugs.Luckily my Peruvian mate was big and scary looking and the moment passed without fuss.
At the border we dutifully filled out our forms and made it through easily.Once on the streets of Villazon,Bolivia though,the stark reality of entering Sth Americas´ poorest country soon hit hard.Everything was dirty and there seemed a general mood of distrust spread through the assembled massses as we walked through the little town toward the train station. There things just got worse!We had arrived in Bolivia just in time for a national bus strike and the result was that the train station was jammed with people trying to get a train ticket to anywhere.I joined the line and my mate from Peru told me he was going to hitch a ride on a truck.I,with my gear,obviously couldn´t do that and we parted company with best wishes all around.
The mood at the ticket counter was turning ugly and several very well armed army types were called into duty to control the ever-maddening crown of about one hundred and twenty.I had made my way to near the front of the line after a couple of hours and with the impending depature time looming was hopefull of securing a berth.I hadn´t however, planned on the mood of one certain ticket seller.Seems the electronic ticket machine had broken down and he was now refusing to sell anymore tickets for the three quater full train.Thankfully the Captian of the ever growing military presence had the good sence to get the man in charge of the train into the office.After a very public screaming match during which the obviously vacant seats were pointed out the ticket man relented and we were on course for a ride to Ororu seventeen hours away.That was until,just as it was my turn to get my ticket, an old lady pushed in front of me and demanded to be served.Well that was it,he stood up sweared at the old lady,shut the register draw and pretty much told the whole world to go and get f$]%ked.There would be no more tickets sold for that train today.He was though, more than happy to start selling us tickets for the next days train.This announcement made me glad that the soldiers had not left thier posts beside the remaining twenty or so gringos at the front of the line.You see,there had been waiting very patiently, about fifty locals who wanted to buy tickets for the next days train and since they had been waiting for hours they were not about to let us steal their seats.The crowd lept as one to their feet and made a charge for us,help back only by the very large guns that were now drawn and being used as shields to protect us.Cool heads prevailed and at the request(order with a big gun involved)of my new mate ,Scary Capitan Bolivian Soldier we all took our places at the end of the line and resigned ourselves to the prospect of staying in Villazon for the night.
Not to be put out by this little hiccup I quickly befriended a couple of Irish girls in the crowd and they told me about an hotel that they had found just accross the street from the train station.I quickly ran over and booked myself in for the night and then went back to the station to wait in line for my ticket.Turned out that there would be a lot of us staying in the same place and it was fun being the only guy hanging out with six Irish girls,one Aussie girl and one girl from Buenous Aries.Once we had secured or tickets for the next day and settled into our rooms it was off to explore the ugly streets of Villazon.
I will say one thing,I couldn´t help but think that this town reminded me of my travels in northern China.My parents lived for some time in the city of Tianjin which is situated just below Beijing and the stark concrete buildings of Villazon are indeed very similar.The parks and gardens,also featured an overabundance of concrete and the way that the trees,with thier trunks painted white to a hight of three feet,all individually circled by iron railings gave off a distictly sterile, communist feel.The fact that fall has arrived,stripping the trees of colour only added to the grey,depressing scene.
No depressing scenes for me though as after our little excursion four of us decided to have ourselves a little slumber party of sorts in my room.As I had a room with a T.V in it three of the girls decided that a movie marathon was the order of the night and so with blankets and sleeping bags keeping out the night chill we settled in for a few hours of mindless entertainment.First up The Terminator followed by Independance Day with copious amounts of junk food and some really cool, hippy vego fare prepared by the little Aussie chick who is spending her time in Sth America camping in peoples back yards.Way too much fun for a datless white boy!
The next day it was a liesurely day hanging out before we boarded our train for the trip to Ororu.I had decided, as the bus strike was still going on, that would ride from Ororu to La Paz.The ride would be about 227k (140miles) long and with the altitute should take me two and a half days of easy riding.First things first though and I had to handle the executive class train trip before any riding was to be done.The train itself was great.Very comfy and with four cheesy movies to watch, mixed with the amazing scenery,some great food and a bit of sleep.Thankfully I did go top class as at least our car was heated,unlike those cheap backpackers who had to endure sub-zero temps in cattle class.It was going to be tough though to get on my bike after such a long train trip and start my ride north to La Paz.No getting around it though,it had to be done .
Once the train stopped at Ororu I had to excersize all my patience as it took forever for them to locate my four bits of luggage.My backpack,trailer bag,trailer and bike had all been put in different places so it took some time to make sure they had all arrived at all.It did give me some time to change into my bike gear on the platform though,much to the amusement of the local police who were very interested in my ride and all my gear that I had scattered al about.I gave another demonstration on how to assemble all my gear only to find both my front tyre and trailer tyre were flat.Another free lesson to the assembled rabble and my tyres were fixed and finally I was off.
After asking directions from some old guy at the local gas staion it was northward bound through another dirty,chaotic Bolivian city.This time though it was fairly simple,just head north along that road and you will get to La Paz.That was,until the damn road ran out and I was Xterra-ing my way through some very dodgy nieghbourhoods,following the now disused train lines,much to the disgust of the local canine population who seemed to have organised an anti bike coalition.It was the first time I had been chased by any mutts and thier enthusiasm more than made up for my previous doggy drought.It wasn´t long before I did find the highway north and was soon heading toward the distant mountains that dominated the landscape.
The only problem I was facing was the fact that Ororu was at 3700meters and the road before me seemed to rise ever so gently higher, with no end in sight.Combine this with the first killer headwind of my trip and you can imaginge what sort of day I was having.The first town was 37k(22miles)away and the road was dead straight all the way to the horizon, shimmerring in the afternoon sun.This stretch took forever and I was beginning to think that it was going to be a very long day at the office for me.I was glad by this time that I didn´t have my watch anymore as not knowing the time was a blessing.I just put my head down and rode for hours until the air temperature became just too cold and I figured that I´d better find myself somewhere to camp before I forze.Surprisingly I had made it to my planned destination for the night,the little town of (no not Bethehem) Belem and bought some supplies from a very nice old man at a run down little store in the main street.The attention I was getting made me bid a hasty retreat from that town and I rode on for about another 20 minutes until I found a great campsite hidden from the highway by a little grassy knoll.It was perfect cover and I was sure I wouldn´t be seen by any nastly little Bolivian crimminal types.The days total was around 85k(52miles) of hellish headwinds and elevation gains but I was happy that I´d made it so far under those conditions and was sure that I would indeed make it to La Paz by lunch on my third day.
I quickly went about the task of setting up camp and the first thing on the agenda was to fire up my stove and get dinner ready.While supper was heating away(I wish I was)my little nylon casa was erected and made ready for sleepy-time.I was beat and looking forward to bedding down for the night with a full belly so as soon as my pasta dinner was done it was wolfed down and I was in my sleeping bag trying to get to sleep before the cold crept in to ruin my night.
I didn´t take long to get to sleep but as had become normal at this altitude,sleep was a relative term.My heart-rate drops so much at night that I now found myself waking periodically through the night gasping for air.The first couple of times were scary but now it is just one of those things and I deal with it.This nights restlessness was to allow me to experience a truly remarkable phenomenon.It was so cold inside my tent that I was forced to put on many layers of clothing in order to keep warm.In what must have been the early hours before dawn I woke up shiverring and as I turned my headlamp on to put on my second fleece sweater I noticed the inside of my tent was covered in what looked like a million little stars.The fact that I could quite clearly see my breath gave the illusion away.Those little stars were actually ice-crystals covering the entire inside of the tent as well as the foot of my sleeping bag.I don´t know how cold it was but the frozen water bottles inside my tent made me assume it was way below zero.More layers of clothing were added and suprisingly I drifted off to a very deep sleep dreaming of what the next day on the high alti-plano would bring.
Enjoy maximized rewards from American Express Don't miss out!
No comments:
Post a Comment