Bus to Cochabamba

On Sunday we checked out of the hostel. We met many interesting travellers there with intriguing stories to tell. They are all so interesting that I don't even know where to begin and I may have to save them for the next family campfire :) My bill came to about $30 for two nights accommodation, two meals and a couple of drinks. Not bad at all. It is very cheap to live here. We took a taxi to the bus terminal, and the driver asked me what "printer" means because his car model name is "printer." Hah!

The bus cost about $12 and was eight hours long. There was no bathroom on the bus but we did stop halfway at a humble rest area. We passed first through El Alto (where the airport is) which literally means "The Tall" and is 4050 meters above sea level. You definitely feel closer to the clouds. Check out this picture:

Alicia and I were both worried about our luggage stored below on the bus, and I asked a man travelling on the bus how he feels about leaving luggage below, and he said it was fine. "No somos todos malos" he said, which means "We're not all bad." He is so right. It's unfortunate that we read so many horror stories of bad things that happen to travellers. While we do have to take more care here than in Canada (probably because there are not as many desperate people, for one thing) most people mean well and are kind-hearted. People are people.

At the rest area, an old man asked me a question in Aymara, one of the indigenous languages. I told him I did not speak Aymara but I spoke Spanish, and so could he it turns out. Later I was thinking, did he really expect a gringa to know what he was talking about in Aymara? I would have probably blown his socks off if I had responded in that language!!! haha. I hope I can learn some Quechua while I am here (another indigenous language, more commonly spoken in Cochabamba).

There was a guy selling CDs at the rest station and playing "Land Down Under" by Men at Work, which made for a funny background. I get the feeling people are into funk and 80's music here since both the bus driver and a taxi driver from the day before were listening to funk and 80's.

The bathroom was very humble- pay 1 boliviano (equivalent to .14 cents US) for a small roll of toilet paper. The toilets had no seat covers or flushes- just standard "squat-and-go" followed by bucket of water flushing. No soap, no paper towels (see why I am always so grateful for everything in North America?!). While travelling, I imagine the realities of the people here, and it makes me appreciate everything I have. Many of these people know no other reality- this is all they know. I constantly remind myself of how lucky I am to be able to travel, as we pulled away listening to "Big in Japan."

We passed through many rural villages. The main road was almost like a dirt road, and there was a lot of garbage everywhere and lack of proper receptacles. The landscape is very arid, lots of valleys and mountains, humble houses and stray dogs. I saw one that was hit on the side of the road and laid dead in the ditch, unfortunately. Everything seems to be covered in a layer of dirt. Even the sheep blend in with the dusty, dry landscape. The infrastructure is pretty bad here. So many buildings appear either incomplete or to have no one in them, and here you see just a piece of a highway. Abandoned project I'm assuming?

I learned that a scarecrow nailed to a telephone poll signifies the death penalty in places where there is no formal police. Women still get hung, and people still get stoned to death. Corruption amongst the police is widespread, and many ask for bribes. In fact, fake police uniforms can be purchased at many open markets in Bolivia, which worsens the problem. Anyone can become a beggar with an official-looking uniform.

The bus driver seemed to take his time and dawdle a lot, so everyone kept yelling "Vamos!!!!!" (Let's GOOOO!) :P This would probably never happen in Canada. Later on the bus ride, the other travellers wanted to watch a movie. They decided on an english one with subtitles and said it was "para ellas!!!" ("for those girls," meaning us, the gringas) while pointing and smiling in our direction. I explained to them in Spanish that they really didn't have to do that since Alicia was trying to sleep and I was busy looking out the window. They didn't listen, still thinking it was a good idea. Guess what they chose to play? Final Destination 5. Oh my goodness, Alicia and I were ready to puke between the bus going on windy roads with no guardrails through the mountains, feeling the change in altitude, and seeing all the worst ways people could die thanks to Final Destination 5. Whoever made that movie has some serious problems. So Alicia and I were ready to throw up in our mouths while everyone else was just going along and laughing at the horror in the movie. Apparently it is common to watch gruesome and violent movies on buses in South America. I remember a violent one that was playing on a bus I went on in Argentina.

I have been reapplying chapstick at least 10 times a day trying to get rid of my horribly chapped lips I got in La Paz from the dry mountain air. Finally seems to be getting a BIT better, but I can't remember having chapped lips so bad. The environment is pretty harsh. At least it doesn't get TOO cold at night (for Canadian standards).