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Published: April 30th 2008
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As soon as we crossed the border into Bolivia, it was immediately obvious that we had entered a different country. Gone are the European influences of Argentina; the roads are dustier, the people's faces are broader and darker, and everywhere there is evidence that things are much much poorer here. We got off our night bus in the freezing morning air in the border town of La Quaica, without much clue where to go from there. We ended up getting a taxi (just a few hundred metres) to Villazon on the Bolivian side of the border, walking through the immigration office, which was a little shed at the side of the road, then into another cab to the bus station, where we booked our transport to Tupiza, our actual destination. It was a bit like being back in Asia again...as soon as we arrived in the bus station hoards of locals descended upon us shouting different destination names and roaring in Spanish. With our tickets purchased we headed outside and bought some delicious empanadas (10 cents each - that's a big brekkie for three for one euro!) from a little woman with a street stall.
Coming from Argentina it was like
taking several steps back in time...the women here wear huge pleated skirts and colourful shawls, with little black bowler hats (fez's??)on their heads. Most of the locals look so weathered; I'd imagine that some of the women who we would put at about 70 are probably only in their 40s. One poor little woman who was terribly stooped and looked about 120 came up to us begging for some change - her eyes were completley glazed over and I think she was totally blind; when Sib gave her some small change she kissed her on both cheeks in a sign of thanks. Oh Jesus. Two minutes in Bolivia and we're already nearly crying. Sib was sitting down and the woman was so tiny beneath her bundles of clothing that she didn't even need to stoop to reach Sabrina's face.
Our bus on to Tupiza was a bumpy, but shorter than expected journey through desert like landscape. It really is such an immediate contrast with Argentina! The roads here are barely roads at all and the landscape is completely different. We trampled towards the town from the bus station, went into the first hostel, which turned out to be new, clean,
with big duvets and hot showers - wha hey! We have decided to deeply mistrust the chick who works behind the reception desk...I think she's only about 16, and she keeps trying to sell us tours (reminds me of Dave in our crazy hotel in Hanoi), and tells us that everything "is pusssuble". Well I ain't buying it lady. Aside from our herself, first impressions are that the Bolivians are very friendly, smiley people. And good lord don't even get me started on the kids - they're gorgeous! I've been having an attack of the Angelinas ever since we arrived, and if I manage to get out of this country without a few Bolivian sprogs in my rucksack it will be nothing short of a miracle!
Tupiza is a dusty, rundown town, but it's also officially Wild West Country. Get this - back in 1908, after a string of robberies and shoot outs Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid met their final bullet just a few miles from here! And here's me thinking it was just a film....the little town is surrounding by deep red mountains reminiscent of the Grand Canyon, and it comprises of just a few streets,
the main form of traffic being people rather than cars. There are only really two streets for us worth bothering with, with a few tour companies and Italian restaurants, all with the same menu (authentic home made Italian pasta - in Bolivia!!), the outer stretches of the town are mostly the domain of the locals. Tupiza also marks our ascent towards higher altitudes; it's almost 3000 metres above sea level here, and we can already feel the difference on our chests.
So what else to do in the Bolivian Wild West than hop on a horse and ride through the mountains for a few hours....horse riding is something Sib has been looking forward to for, um, about eleven months now, so we all booked a five hour trip for the Saturday afternoon, much to Ms Sherlock's delight. There was a seven hour option, but thankfully we didn't go for it - my arse is still getting over the five hour outing! So off we headed at noon in the sunshine to meet our guide and horses. Now, I should explain, I think I have been on a horse about twice before, both times were probably in Mosney about 13 years
ago. So I'm not exactly a pro when it comes to equestrian pursuits. The two gals are fairly out of practice, but they at least went through a horse riding phase (complete with lessons for a year or so) when they were younger! I made sure to tell our guide (who was only 17, bless, and didn't speak a syllable of English) that I had NO EXPERIENCE, but this seemed to make NO difference as me and Claud had to do a horse swap about ten minutes into the ride. Surely I should only be placed on a horse with excellent manners and fluent English?
We trotted for 20 minutes or so out of town, then took a turn off a dusty side road and headed deep into the mountains. The scenery was absolutely stunning; jagged red rocks, deep canyons, catuses - it was very overwhelming! There was a bit of a dodgy moment fairly early into the ride when my horse (what did I say about good manners) decided he wanted to go for a gallop. Second time on a horse people, second time. At this stage it became clear that I had been given a mule rather than
a horse, because as hard as I pulled on the reigns, he was determined to keep going. I was absolutely terrified, but I survived to tell the tale! Later in the afternoon myself and Claud turned our horses around (if one decided to shoot off, they all shot off) so Sib could go for a bit of a gallop with the guide, which she loved. We took two short breaks during the day, and by the time it came to finish we were all VERY ready to get off the saddle! It was a tiring but fantastic afternoon, even if we are still walking like John Wayne.
After crashing and showering in our hostel for an hour or two we headed out for dinner, and what followed was one of the best evenings of Sabrina Sherlock's life. We ended up in a tiny little local restuarant, and as we made our way up the stairs we noticed Shania Twain, circa 2001, singing on the TV. Once upstairs the helpful young waiter turned on a second TV and it become clear that they were showing a DVD of the original Divas Live! I'm talking Mariah, Shania, Gloria, Celine and ARETHA singing
to us over dinner. (All the little restaurants here have tvs complete with pirate DVD collections; Britney Before She Went Mental and the likes) And our dinner, as it happens, was an amazing chicken, rice, chips combo which cost us a total of 90 cents each! From there we went on to another little restaurant for a few more beers and more cheesey tunes (they love Celine Dion in this country!), and then, THEN, we decided to head to the only "later" option - the local Karoke bar. It was absolutely hilarious; we were the only gringos in there, surrounded by Bolivians on their Saturday night out singing very serious Karoke. The bar woman had a permed mullet and white nail polish, and she loved the three of us. Things went from great to fantastic when we got a hold of the Karoke list and found they had loads of songs in English (including a surprising amount of Gary Barlow. Just Gary. Not Take That.) - we thought our turn was never going to come, but we eventually got to belt out a few tunes, and we only managed to get Sib to leave when the Karoke machine was turned
off.....From an afternoon of horse riding in the Wild West to an evening of Karoke - what a Saturday.
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Carly
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Hey missus! Not long now til you're back in the emerald isle. Looking forward to catching up with you! I'm gonna miss the updates though, love reading of your travels!!