Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Into The Badlands of Bolivia
In a big country...
Through the north of Argentina and into Bolivia are a stretch of ravines and canyons that would have most physical geography teachers wetting themselves. The landscape is a series of massive chunks of the earth pushed and pulled in all directions, and eroded by hundreds of thousands of years of water and wind to create an utterly spectactular landscape. But having spent a couple of weeks travelling up through this barren and cold country is with some relief I´ve now started on the first steps towards the lower, jungley south-east of Bolivia.
First proper stop in Bolivia was Tupiza (yes, some enterprising fella has named his fast food joint Tu Pizza) a great little town somewhere close to where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid burst out of the doors all guns blazing and got battered by the Bolivian army. Then a rather bumpy ride over night to Tarija, a thousand meters lower and a lot warmer, thankfully.
Crime and Punishment
Everyone you meet travelling has a story about people being mugged or killed in Bolivia, and while it is incredibly poor and tourists are obvious targets for some nasty buggers, we didn´t get robbed the minute we crossed the border as we were beginning to think we might be. Thankfully the biggest bandit in the badlands I´ve come across so far was in a shop on the Argentinian side: she shoves her hands into your pockets and demands chocolates and caramels... she´s about three years old.
Later, a Candian girl staying in the same hostal at the border asked me, with some concern, "I saw you being led around by that Policeman! What did he want?" I told her I´d been arrested for exposing myself to goats, again, although in fact he was simply helping find out if there was a bus to Tarija (big traumas as the buses have been on strike for weeks). So far the cops have been great, and Norwegian Chris (my current travelling partner) is a good distraction as they always ask lots of questions like "Is it cold in Norway?".
Fanfares and songs
...and the most I´ve seen of the army is in the bands that have been accompanying the various parades, so far one in every town (Villazon - the border - a school parade, Tupiza celebrating the anniversary of the university, Tarija a saints day). Great music and lot of people dressed as angels and devils, and the such like, chasing eachother around.
Halfway up a mountain between Tupiza and Tarija the bus pulled aside for a comfort break, and amoungst the splashing on the hillside of a bus load of passengers finding relief, a wonderful but ghostly sound rose out of the valley below. At first I thought it was strange sounding goat bells, but I was reliably informed it is was a frog night song.
Top tip if you are in this part of the world: Stay on the bus. A lot of the buses run overnight, and arrive at daft times, like 4.30 am, where no hostal you´d want to stay at is open for business. If it´s the end of the line, ask the bus driver if you can stay until a more reasonable hour. We did and he locked us in with our bags so we could get a bit more kip. Safer than sitting around with the tricksters and husslers in the bus terminal.
Riding Shotgun
Think twice about getting front row seats on the bus. Recently I have had a couple: In Argentina I witnessed so much road-kill carnage it quite put me off my plastic sandwich, while in Bolivia being able to "see" the driver throwing the night bus around mountain hairpin bends, whilst driving through blinding clouds of dust, ascattle trucks raced towards us in the other direction had me cletching every cheek imaginable.
Through the north of Argentina and into Bolivia are a stretch of ravines and canyons that would have most physical geography teachers wetting themselves. The landscape is a series of massive chunks of the earth pushed and pulled in all directions, and eroded by hundreds of thousands of years of water and wind to create an utterly spectactular landscape. But having spent a couple of weeks travelling up through this barren and cold country is with some relief I´ve now started on the first steps towards the lower, jungley south-east of Bolivia.First proper stop in Bolivia was Tupiza (yes, some enterprising fella has named his fast food joint Tu Pizza) a great little town somewhere close to where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid burst out of the doors all guns blazing and got battered by the Bolivian army. Then a rather bumpy ride over night to Tarija, a thousand meters lower and a lot warmer, thankfully.
Crime and Punishment
Everyone you meet travelling has a story about people being mugged or killed in Bolivia, and while it is incredibly poor and tourists are obvious targets for some nasty buggers, we didn´t get robbed the minute we crossed the border as we were beginning to think we might be. Thankfully the biggest bandit in the badlands I´ve come across so far was in a shop on the Argentinian side: she shoves her hands into your pockets and demands chocolates and caramels... she´s about three years old.
Later, a Candian girl staying in the same hostal at the border asked me, with some concern, "I saw you being led around by that Policeman! What did he want?" I told her I´d been arrested for exposing myself to goats, again, although in fact he was simply helping find out if there was a bus to Tarija (big traumas as the buses have been on strike for weeks). So far the cops have been great, and Norwegian Chris (my current travelling partner) is a good distraction as they always ask lots of questions like "Is it cold in Norway?".
Fanfares and songs
...and the most I´ve seen of the army is in the bands that have been accompanying the various parades, so far one in every town (Villazon - the border - a school parade, Tupiza celebrating the anniversary of the university, Tarija a saints day). Great music and lot of people dressed as angels and devils, and the such like, chasing eachother around.
Halfway up a mountain between Tupiza and Tarija the bus pulled aside for a comfort break, and amoungst the splashing on the hillside of a bus load of passengers finding relief, a wonderful but ghostly sound rose out of the valley below. At first I thought it was strange sounding goat bells, but I was reliably informed it is was a frog night song.
Top tip if you are in this part of the world: Stay on the bus. A lot of the buses run overnight, and arrive at daft times, like 4.30 am, where no hostal you´d want to stay at is open for business. If it´s the end of the line, ask the bus driver if you can stay until a more reasonable hour. We did and he locked us in with our bags so we could get a bit more kip. Safer than sitting around with the tricksters and husslers in the bus terminal.
Riding Shotgun
Think twice about getting front row seats on the bus. Recently I have had a couple: In Argentina I witnessed so much road-kill carnage it quite put me off my plastic sandwich, while in Bolivia being able to "see" the driver throwing the night bus around mountain hairpin bends, whilst driving through blinding clouds of dust, ascattle trucks raced towards us in the other direction had me cletching every cheek imaginable.
# posted by Barney @ 9:38 pm 
