Bolivia, a Land of Surprises

I am writing this article from Cochabamba, Bolivia on the first anniversary of my time in South America . I have been in Bolivia only three weeks having spent the majority of this time in Chile and Argentina . Even my extensive journey through the north of Chile and Argentina by car with my friend John, could not prepare me for the culture shock that awaited our arrival in Bolivia . Our first few days in this wonderful country, were an adventure that led us almost to regret having come here.

We left the bustling  town of Tartagal northern Argentina on a sunny Saturday morning heading for the border town of Yacuiba, south east Bolivia, a region that failed to even make it into the guidebooks. Though it is a pretty part of the country, the winding roads cut through valleys of the rolling forested hills of the Sub tropics; it is Bolivia 's most sparsely populated region. The population tends to be concentrated to a few small towns along Ruta 4. Occasionally the odd campesino is spotted usually plodding along the road side, bent over by the weight he is carrying on his back. Farming is also restricted to the roadside with the odd cow to be seen munching on the roadside grass or alternatively swishing its tail as it ambles along the double white lines that divide the two lanes.

Villa Montes 100km from the border, the regional capital, was the first town we pulled up to. It is a sleepy town consisting of two paved roads, one north south and the other east west, then breaking off into gravel tracks. 3 hotels cater for the small number of tourists that arrive in Villa Montes. We had the privilege of being the only gringos around at this time. As we arrived on Saturday evening the bank, which we later discovered didn't even have an ATM, was closed. Being naive to the realities of Bolivian regional capitals, we had failed to exchange our money or use an ATM in the border town of Yacuiba . That left us with only pennies to our names. To our luck the casa de cambio was open and managed to exchange the remainder of our Argentinean pesos and some emergency dollars (a paltry 20!) for some bolivianos to tide us over until we got to Santa Cruz . With that we could pay for two night's accommodation, two meals and the petrol for the car to get us to Santa Cruz .

So began our second adventure. Languages being as they are, changeable and colloquial, petrol in Chile, Argentina and Bolivia is called everything from, vencina, naphta and gas to gasolina, so when we went to fill the car in Villa Montes they was utter confusion as to what we should fill it with. After consulting various people including a mechanic and a taxi driver we pulled over to the side of the road, we opted for gasoline. We drove for the first 10 km in utter fear that the car engine would revolt against the wrong petrol and come to a complete stop. That would leave us stranded without money or any way of obtaining it, with 436km still left to Santa Cruz . The ten km mark passed by without hitch, so we motored on. We were stopped at numerous checkpoints along the road, one of which informed us that there was a road block 100km. We were told we could stay in the nearest town or we could try our luck getting through it. Due to our dwindling amount of money we said we would try our luck as we were reassured there was no danger. When we reached the road block some friendly truckers told us there was no chance we would get through but we could follow them around it on an alternative route if we liked. So we did.

After a quick consultation with a mysterious person amongst the trees, the trucks pulled off the road onto a dirt track leading into the forest. Having heard about the road dangers of Bolivia we were hit by two sets of misgivings. One, after already puncturing three tires on a gravel road and running over a rock that broke the fuel pump, should we really put the car through the trauma of driving down this sandy rock strewn road? And two, do we really trust these two truck drivers who could be leading us into the wilderness in order to rob us of all our belongings and leave us for dead in an uncharted area of Bolivia? However not wanting to return to the border to get money, nor wanting to try and negotiate our way through the road block ourselves, we put our trust in the truckers and followed them. An hour of sandy, axel scraping, dirt track later, we emerged back on the roadside safe and sound. It had delayed us by two hours and nearly given John multiple heart attacks but it meant we were able to get to Santa Cruz by nightfall.

Arriving in Santa Cruz was the biggest shock of all. Having just come off, one laned, pot-hole strewn roads, we arrived in a metropolis of multiple car lanes, high rise buildings, wide avenues with ATMs on every corner and gourmet restaurants. We had arrived in another world.