Bolivia, Buses and Borders
I am led to understand, by learned and scientific types, that within chaos one will find beauty and order. Moreover, I have also been reliably informed that where one finds beauty, there also one will find truth.
So Dear Reader, I have, over the past few days, attempted to align this understanding with my practical experience with Bolivia, both this time and on my previous visit in 2001 - for those unaware, I am fortunate to have spent 2 weeks in a Bolivian hospital where, amongst other things, the doctor was drunk and the nurse had apparently taken a sickie and sent her best mate in as relief (this experience makes me somewhat less than sympathetic for those complaining about RDH and the lack of afterhours medical services in Palmerston).
In short, Bolivia is constantly balanced on the very edge of catastrophe.
The reason the bus leaves on time is less through good management than that the company and driver have a 1 in 24 chance of leaving at the designated hour on the designated day (better odds than the lotto when one thinks about it). So we were pleasantly surprised when our bus to Oruro, connecting with our train to Uyuni did leave when it was supposed. And we experienced a very safe and comfortable journey, relatively speaking. Although the speedo never moved off 0 we passed everything in front of us, except one bus with which the driver commenced a furious duel (but comfort was drawn from passing through a police radar trap with flying colours (and not a checkered flag).
On arrival in Oruro (about 5 hours south of La Paz) things reverted to the norm for Bolivia. We were summarily returned our train tickets because a land slide (possibly in Siberia - it was never confirmed) had swallowed the bulk of the train leaving only 2 carriages. Our spanish and capacity for bribery was not sufficent to score a ticket on this much reduced train so we were left to our devices, and the opportunity to enjoy another long bus trip.
The bus left Oruro at 9, but I would refer you to the above statement about the odds of leaving on time. So it was at 10 that myself, Felicity, 2 Swiss girls and the Oruro Mens Marching Band departed.
We were advised that the trip would take 7 hours, arriving in Uyuni at 2. Not so. Rather around 6am. Have I mentioned the road is unpaved. Further, I suspect that the townsfolk along the route, jealous of those passing by in clouds of dust or showers of mud, purposefully place extra rocks on the road. To make things better, the Marching Band obviously consider hygiene to be a greeting, not a lifestyle option. They reeked.
Our travails to reach Uyuni were to allow us to undertake a tour of the Salar de Uyuni and the Bolivian reaches of the Atacama Desert, before crossing the border into Chile to a town called San Pedro de Atacama. We were led to understand that our attempts to reach Salta in Argentina (where Felicity intends entering a convent) would be better facilitated.
Uyuni is one of the most isolated towns I have ever visited (even compared to Darwin). The one attraction, other than being the place where one starts tours to the gorgeous surrounds and to fill up space in the map (cartographers hate having to put in things like - there be dragons here, why do you think Elliot and Eromanga exist?), is a mortorary for trains and the associated accoutrements - a great eerie pile of rust and past glories. Uyuni normally has electricity, both during the day and at night, but not the time we were there. I think this demonstrates a need for robust and intrusive regulation, including performance indicators.
Anyway, if I were able to upload photos you could see for yourself, Dear Reader, how gorgeous is this part of Bolivia. Volcanoes (which unfortunately did not erupt), flamingoes, lakes reflecting the sky and the mountains (and giving a home to the flamingoes) and lots of dust. Another experience is being in a place absent pollution, whether from light or industry. This makes the night sky incredibly clear and spectacular.
Perhaps within chaos one is able to find beauty, the trick is to be a little patient and have a sufficiently robust posterier to deal with the worst roads (calling them so is probably being a little polite) in creation.
So we left Bolivia for a short sojourn in Chile and onward to Argentina.
Bolivia remains my favourite country. Probably because it is a little dodgy like me.
So Dear Reader, I have, over the past few days, attempted to align this understanding with my practical experience with Bolivia, both this time and on my previous visit in 2001 - for those unaware, I am fortunate to have spent 2 weeks in a Bolivian hospital where, amongst other things, the doctor was drunk and the nurse had apparently taken a sickie and sent her best mate in as relief (this experience makes me somewhat less than sympathetic for those complaining about RDH and the lack of afterhours medical services in Palmerston).
In short, Bolivia is constantly balanced on the very edge of catastrophe.
The reason the bus leaves on time is less through good management than that the company and driver have a 1 in 24 chance of leaving at the designated hour on the designated day (better odds than the lotto when one thinks about it). So we were pleasantly surprised when our bus to Oruro, connecting with our train to Uyuni did leave when it was supposed. And we experienced a very safe and comfortable journey, relatively speaking. Although the speedo never moved off 0 we passed everything in front of us, except one bus with which the driver commenced a furious duel (but comfort was drawn from passing through a police radar trap with flying colours (and not a checkered flag).
On arrival in Oruro (about 5 hours south of La Paz) things reverted to the norm for Bolivia. We were summarily returned our train tickets because a land slide (possibly in Siberia - it was never confirmed) had swallowed the bulk of the train leaving only 2 carriages. Our spanish and capacity for bribery was not sufficent to score a ticket on this much reduced train so we were left to our devices, and the opportunity to enjoy another long bus trip.
The bus left Oruro at 9, but I would refer you to the above statement about the odds of leaving on time. So it was at 10 that myself, Felicity, 2 Swiss girls and the Oruro Mens Marching Band departed.
We were advised that the trip would take 7 hours, arriving in Uyuni at 2. Not so. Rather around 6am. Have I mentioned the road is unpaved. Further, I suspect that the townsfolk along the route, jealous of those passing by in clouds of dust or showers of mud, purposefully place extra rocks on the road. To make things better, the Marching Band obviously consider hygiene to be a greeting, not a lifestyle option. They reeked.
Our travails to reach Uyuni were to allow us to undertake a tour of the Salar de Uyuni and the Bolivian reaches of the Atacama Desert, before crossing the border into Chile to a town called San Pedro de Atacama. We were led to understand that our attempts to reach Salta in Argentina (where Felicity intends entering a convent) would be better facilitated.
Uyuni is one of the most isolated towns I have ever visited (even compared to Darwin). The one attraction, other than being the place where one starts tours to the gorgeous surrounds and to fill up space in the map (cartographers hate having to put in things like - there be dragons here, why do you think Elliot and Eromanga exist?), is a mortorary for trains and the associated accoutrements - a great eerie pile of rust and past glories. Uyuni normally has electricity, both during the day and at night, but not the time we were there. I think this demonstrates a need for robust and intrusive regulation, including performance indicators.
Anyway, if I were able to upload photos you could see for yourself, Dear Reader, how gorgeous is this part of Bolivia. Volcanoes (which unfortunately did not erupt), flamingoes, lakes reflecting the sky and the mountains (and giving a home to the flamingoes) and lots of dust. Another experience is being in a place absent pollution, whether from light or industry. This makes the night sky incredibly clear and spectacular.
Perhaps within chaos one is able to find beauty, the trick is to be a little patient and have a sufficiently robust posterier to deal with the worst roads (calling them so is probably being a little polite) in creation.
So we left Bolivia for a short sojourn in Chile and onward to Argentina.
Bolivia remains my favourite country. Probably because it is a little dodgy like me.
posted by Flossie | 9:46 AM
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