Bolivia!
Lebn was not consumed by a Puma and, after missing our first bus, we caught the next one to the border where we stayed the night and crossed the next morning into an entirely different world. If not the poorest, Bolivia is certainly at the top of that list, in this great big continent. Things were cheap in Chile and Argentina, but prices have been sliced in half (sometimes more) since we crossed the border to the point where we´re able to live quite comfortably on 2 or 3 dollars a day.
We didn´t stay long in the border town, buying train tickets to a town called Tupiza that afternoon. We met some Canadian kids who met Sam somewhere in Eastern Argentina, a strange and interesting coincidence, who have been travelling about as long as we have, and whose Spanish made us feel much better about our own. We sat in the cheap seats on the 5 hour train ride, though our new Canadian friends splurged on the fancy car, and got our first taste of Quechua, a native language spoken by a large percentage of the people here. A little old man came over to us and tried starting up a conversation and we couldn´t understand him at all. And just when we were feeling good about our Spanish. Luckily, another passenger clued us into the fact that it wasn´t, in fact, Spanish at all.
Once we got off the train, we were assaulted by dozens of children all wanting to take us to various hostels and residencias in town, but we decided to go it ourselves. But it wasn´t long before some pretty blondes ended up leading us to the same hostel that the kids were recommending. It´s not the first time I´ve been lead astray by a pretty face, and I´m sure it won´t be the last. There was a group of 4 (1 guy, 3 girls) who were looking for 2 more to accompany them the next day on a 4-day tour of the salt flats and various other destinations in Southwestern Bolivia. The cost was $115, entirely out of our normal price range, but pretty faces made us consider it for a minute. And as though that weren´t enough, one of them went to Western Washington University, and the others were all from Vancouver. But we resisted the sirens call and hooked them up with the other Canadians we´d met. They were perfect for each other really, and on an entirely different tour of South America than we are. The hostel we stayed at was a perfect example.
It was the first place we´ve stayed were everyone spoke English and everyone was just looking to party. It was a bit off putting and we really didn´t feel comfortable. A perfect example was the 2 Australians that we were sharing our room with coming in at 4a.m., drunk, and loud as hell, without the slightest care that there were other people there. And at 25 Bolivianos each (about 3 dollars) a night, it was out of our price range anyway. First thing the next morning, we started heading to another place that we´d heard was only 15 Bolivianos, when a fellow juggler named Manu noticed our juggling clubs and took us to where he was staying. We have our own room for 7 Bolivianos each. And with 3 or 4 course meals nearby costing about the same, this is far and away the cheapest we´ve been able to live so far.
And so we´re still in Tupiza, once again staying longer than we thought. We found some incredible canyons just outside of town for great hiking and have spent some time with Manu, an Argentine, his German girlfriend, and a French friend of theirs named Julian. We did a little show in the plaza and were introduced to San Pedro for an unspeakably incredible evening. People here don´t get to see jugglers as much as the other places we´ve been. Jugglers don´t come through here as often because they can´t make as much. But they respond to it much more enthusiastically, which makes juggling in the park that much more fun.
But, as wonderful as this stop has been, we bought bus tickets to Potosí for this evening. We´ve washed our clothes and ourselves and shed some unnecessary weight and the open road lays ahead. More to come.
We didn´t stay long in the border town, buying train tickets to a town called Tupiza that afternoon. We met some Canadian kids who met Sam somewhere in Eastern Argentina, a strange and interesting coincidence, who have been travelling about as long as we have, and whose Spanish made us feel much better about our own. We sat in the cheap seats on the 5 hour train ride, though our new Canadian friends splurged on the fancy car, and got our first taste of Quechua, a native language spoken by a large percentage of the people here. A little old man came over to us and tried starting up a conversation and we couldn´t understand him at all. And just when we were feeling good about our Spanish. Luckily, another passenger clued us into the fact that it wasn´t, in fact, Spanish at all.
Once we got off the train, we were assaulted by dozens of children all wanting to take us to various hostels and residencias in town, but we decided to go it ourselves. But it wasn´t long before some pretty blondes ended up leading us to the same hostel that the kids were recommending. It´s not the first time I´ve been lead astray by a pretty face, and I´m sure it won´t be the last. There was a group of 4 (1 guy, 3 girls) who were looking for 2 more to accompany them the next day on a 4-day tour of the salt flats and various other destinations in Southwestern Bolivia. The cost was $115, entirely out of our normal price range, but pretty faces made us consider it for a minute. And as though that weren´t enough, one of them went to Western Washington University, and the others were all from Vancouver. But we resisted the sirens call and hooked them up with the other Canadians we´d met. They were perfect for each other really, and on an entirely different tour of South America than we are. The hostel we stayed at was a perfect example.
It was the first place we´ve stayed were everyone spoke English and everyone was just looking to party. It was a bit off putting and we really didn´t feel comfortable. A perfect example was the 2 Australians that we were sharing our room with coming in at 4a.m., drunk, and loud as hell, without the slightest care that there were other people there. And at 25 Bolivianos each (about 3 dollars) a night, it was out of our price range anyway. First thing the next morning, we started heading to another place that we´d heard was only 15 Bolivianos, when a fellow juggler named Manu noticed our juggling clubs and took us to where he was staying. We have our own room for 7 Bolivianos each. And with 3 or 4 course meals nearby costing about the same, this is far and away the cheapest we´ve been able to live so far.
And so we´re still in Tupiza, once again staying longer than we thought. We found some incredible canyons just outside of town for great hiking and have spent some time with Manu, an Argentine, his German girlfriend, and a French friend of theirs named Julian. We did a little show in the plaza and were introduced to San Pedro for an unspeakably incredible evening. People here don´t get to see jugglers as much as the other places we´ve been. Jugglers don´t come through here as often because they can´t make as much. But they respond to it much more enthusiastically, which makes juggling in the park that much more fun.
But, as wonderful as this stop has been, we bought bus tickets to Potosí for this evening. We´ve washed our clothes and ourselves and shed some unnecessary weight and the open road lays ahead. More to come.
posted by Zackataca at 9:04 AM
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