Amazing race thru South America

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Puno is a very nice village. It´s rather touristy. The advantages were a huge variety of restaurants with western cuisine and the fact that many people spoke English.

We still hadn’t got used to the altitude when we took the bus to Copacabana. It’s a tiny village on the bolivian side of lake Titicaca. This place was just packed of tourists. I believe that the whole region is living of tourists. With about 30 tourists we got on a boat to Isla del Sol, the origin of the Inca. The optional 20 minute walk we skipped. Walking was still far too exhausting. Nevertheless the landscape was just amazing!

The next day we took a bus to La Paz. We had to make sure to arrive on time to meet my parents in Salta, Argentina. In La Paz we were extremely lucky. We didn´t find any nice hostels so we decided to head to the airport instead. We wanted to check the flights to Tarija in the south of Bolivia. We couldn’t believe it when the girl told us that we could get on the flight the same day. This saved us another 20h bus ride. Few hours later we enjoyed the short flight over the Andes down to Tarija. Down there we felt so much better. Finally enough air to breathe. Tarija is so different from the north of Bolivia. We could hardly believe we were still in the same country. The south is much wealthier and hence more urban. Tarija is a beautiful city and we were
sorry to leave it after just one night. But we had to make sure we’d arrive in Salta, Argentina, before my parents do.

Another day in a bus was to begin. The oldest bus ever took us to the bolivian-argentinian border. Ten minutes from the bus station in Tarija the bus had a flat tire. I got of the bus to look for a bathroom. All I found was a Doberman dog that didn’t like me. Lucky enough it didn’t bite me.

The road to the border was crossed by all kind of animals: horses, cows, sheep, hens and dogs. I believe that driving over a dog and a hen was rather little for the rather short ride to the border.

The border between Bolivia and Argentina is a mere bridge. First, we went to the bolivian office. Then we walked over the bridge, changed the time on our watches and let the argentinian officers go through all our stuff.

Getting from the argentinian border to Salta is an experience I wanna forget as soon as possible. It was probably the worst trip ever. Worse than puking on the rocking boat in Galapagos and worse than any bus ride I've been on for the past 3 months.
At first, we were quite happy when we were told that instead of taking a bus we would be going to Salta by car. But this feeling changed quickly. We were sitting in the back of the car with a bolivian farmer who smelled extremely bad. I think his teeth have never touched a toothbrush or anything like it. Further, the driver was a 20-year old immature Latino. His car is probably his whole pride. He was driving like crazy. Far to fast and risking everyone’s life. We told him several times to slow down. He wouldn’t listen, of course. Thank God we made it to Salta in one piece. I can still hardly believe we survived.

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