Economics With A Face

We made our way along a very rough service road that paralleled a gas line. Keep in mind we were in a greyhound type bus not meant for off-roading but that is exactly what we were doing. We would stop for up to 30 minutes at a time while the driver and the guide ahead would get out to survey the road ahead to make sure the bus would make it.

Two hours later we emerged on the other side of the blockade. Getting back on the highway was a difficult task. I thought the bus was about to tip and the woman next to us started praying to God that we would make it. Thanks to the driver we did. Once back on the road we were again cruising along at 60 miles per hour past a mile long line of buses and trucks that were held up in the other direction. I drifted back to sleep for a few hours.

When I woke up it was daylight and we were heading along at a good clip. During the day we stopped in small dusty towns such as Uyuni, Tupiza, and a few more. At one point the coca leaves were unloaded and Em got some pictures to remember the trip. At about 5:00pm we pulled into Villazón where there were swarms of people waiting for us outside trying to sell bus tickets.

We picked a kid that looked honest that said he could get us tickets to Salto or to Buenos Aires. Although a commission was involved we decided to pay it. In return not only did we get tickets to Buenos Aires but Victor helped us find an ATM, get the bus tickets, and find a hotel with hot showers and a restaurant where we could stay for a few hours before our bus left at midnight.

Once we were in the hotel I found a phone across the street and called Nacho. I told him that we were in La Quiaca and would be in Buenos Aires by Friday morning. From there we could catch a bus to Mar de Plata or Miramar.

After showering and putting on some clean clothes (our backpacks by the way were absolutely covered with dust after the ride through Bolivia) we headed to the restaurant to eat. It was about 7:50pm and I asked if there was a special. There was for a good price, but the waiter told us that we couldn’t get it until 8:30. I was hungry so I asked him to bring a menu so we could get something else. “No,” he replied “the kitchen isn’t open until 8:30. You have to wait that long to get any food” They eat late here apparently. I ordered a large Quilmes to hold me over for 40 minutes.

At midnight we were on the bus to Buenos Aires which was a considerable upgrade from our last bus in Bolivia. You can almost lie down in the seats. Good thing as we will be on this bus for the next 30 hours!

We were stopped at the immigration offices a few minutes outside of town. The head guy was cocky 25-year-old kid who was literally smoking and chewing gum at the same time while he interrogated the Bolivians on the bus heading into Argentina. The guy seemed worse than immigration officials in the U.S. Even if the person had their papers all in order, the guy would make him show his hands, looking for calluses, and then bring him into a back room for further questioning. When he saw our U.S. passports he used it as an opportunity to show off his English. “Go to the bus” was all he said. Forty-five minutes later everyone was aboard and we were heading south.