Welcome to Bolivia!

 

We paid extra for the legroom.  A cheeky backhander to secure the best seats on the bus.  I guess the guy travelling in the luggage compartment below couldn't afford a bribe.  I've often found on my travels that the worst journeys turn out to be the best experiences.  I have very fond memories of a few hours spent hanging off the back of a truck, speeding along dusty roads in laos waving back at enthusiastic kids, for instance.  That after an excruciating start to the journey as more and more people and produce gradually edged me from my padded seat to a bare metal bar.  In contrast I suppose, the night on a cockroach infested boat in Indonesia had no redeeming features, my lungs probably not yet recovered from the diesel fumes!

So where does this journey sit?  Well, after crossing the border we had made it safely to Santa Cruz on the ´Death Train´, not that we know why it is named as such (possibly something to do with the food? Or the Aaron Eckhart films!)  Bolivia is also home to the ´World's Most Dangerous Road´, and whilst the one from Santa Cruz to Sucre isn't it, possibly all roads here could be up there near the top.  We weren't sure if our driver was schooled in the UK given his preference for the left side of the road.  Whilst driving round blind bends on mountain roads that is.  Our minds were probably easier once the sun set and all we could see were thousands of stars, and the occasional cactus lit against mountain silhouetes.  After a couple of hours that novelty had long worn off though, so the further 12 hours through the night were just uncomfortable, plain and simple.  Especially as the 'air-con' (open windows) stayed on all night, and it gets pretty cold in the hills.  So not going on the list of worst-but-best journeys then.  But we made it, and that's all that counts in Bolivia.