Santa Cruz is not that far

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After a final meal with the Isrealis we spend the last night in our freezing hotel room, a plastic roof desnt hold much or any heat in.

The next day we go to get our bus to Sucre but get informed it will only be going to Putosi then we will have to get another bus, refund gained we wait for our 6hr bus to arrive. After a very hot and ipod-less 6hrs for matt (we think its died forever) we arrive in Putosi.

Putosi is the highest city in the world, fact. And was once south americas richest city, it now just looks like a big version of most towns weve passed through. The main tourist attraction of the city is its mines, self employed minors mine iron ore in very dangerous conditions, tourist are encouraged to take cigarettes, alcohol and food down when visiting. Due to the toxicity of the mine most minors arent expected to live 10yrs after starting work.

We decide to move on as fast as possible and get a bus to Sucre. We arrive late and hungry and search out for a hotel with cable to watch the Arsenal game.

We find a decent hotel with a large tv and a view over the main street, its a very busy place with the majority of people under 20 and in a variety of school uniforms, we later decide no one actualy goes to school or has jobs here they just potter around the streets and colonial square.

The next day starts early we need to get laundry done, very desperately, and try to get a bus out of here to Santa Cruz, seems easy but with a national bus strike on it wasnt. After going to a very closed bus station me and matt pass a guy who mutters Santa Cruz, we ask him whats the deal and he says he can get us there tomorrow for 100 Bolivianos (about 6 quid, which is alot), we agree and pay.

After watching the disappointing Arsenal game and playing/listeing to music we end the day at a very early hour.

After collecting laundry we head up to the bus station where our friend meets us and tells us we need to get a cab with his friend, all feeling a bit uneasy we get in and he drives us out of town where the bus is waiting, we think this is due to the strike being ignored by him to make some money.

The bus is old, and has a distinct smell - urine and old leather. After our bags get loosely thrown on top we begin the epic 14hr journey. About an hour in we stop at a tiny strip of shacks in the hills, here everyone seems to get off so me and matt have alook round and find the one bottle of 7up in the village. Oh we are by far the only travellers here and for miles around. The journey only gets worse, a local women sits in the isle next to me removing my leg room then forces he bag of crops under my seat, i was trapped and the smells had become unbareable, partly i blame the 3 babies sitting behind but its not there fault really. Another unnerving factor was two very shady looking locals eying up toms bag while the lights where on, on these night buses it is pitch black for the majority all you can see is shadows and occassional passing trucks.

While drifting to sleep im awoken by a large bang and here prayers being muttered and see the locals crossing themselves as they had done earlier in the journey, the smell of rubber fills the coach as it sways back and forth across the dirt track, as we come to a stop it becomes clear a tyre had blown. I was happy it didnt happen on the single track mountain road wed been on previously, still not a pleasent experience.

So 14hrs later we arrive and its raining hard, after some time we eventually see out bags appear off the roof of the bus, wet, but atleast there.

Now im sat in the train station of Santa Cruz waiting for a 16hr train deeper into nowhereness heading towards the Pantanal for a few days of animal fun.

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