Viajera solita

BOLIVIA

Next stop: Bolivia. I left the other girls with a German, dread-locked friend we made at the bus station to catch my bus for La Paz. I was on my own. Ahh! I was on my own!

It didn’t end up being that scary really, in fact a lot of what’s between Puno and La Paz is considerably more flat than Cusco. My first bus was a group of students from all over the world (Israel, Korea, England, Denmark, and Switzerland to name a few) all taking a bus to Copacabana, Bolivia which is just over the border. The border wasn’t so eventful, just some stamps and a little kid who spoke all kinds of languages just from working selling cigarettes and candy there on the border line. I felt somehow less worried or daunted being with a group of people my own age all in it for the adventure and excitement! Of course, none of them seemed to be traveling alone.

We made it to Copacabana in time for the sunset at which point the seven or eight of us NOT going to Copacabana were informed we had to switch buses. Okay, no one mentioned this! Stay calm. We got on a bus full of jolly traveling Peruvians and continued on our way. It quickly became dark, and in what seemed like the middle of the night the bus came to a halt. Tired, disgruntled Peruvians filed off the bus as if stopping here is routine. Well. Okay. Maybe this is a bathroom break? The seven of us silly tourist students left on the bus were next informed that we would be getting off to take a boat. A boat?! What?! Are we at the ocean? No one said anything about a boat! But we filed off, me taking all my luggage and wondering if I would be stranded in a strange Bolivian city. Turns out there is a small stretch of water (El Estrecho de Tiquina if you ever travel from Peru to Bolivia) that you must cross to save four hours of driving time to La Paz! It costs 1 Boliviano and 50 centimos and you get an exciting midnight boat ride (or daylight, of course)! It ended up being beautiful to sit there with the other student travelers (we had a boat to ourselves because we were the clueless ones who got on last) under the starry, starry sky of the Southern Hemisphere.

It turned out the 3 Koreans in the boat were filming a documentary as a final project for school. They were very energetic and talkative, and spoke English quite well but very little Spanish. One of the guys was the camera man and another was going around the boat asking for the complete story of all present. What? You’re from Kentucky? KENTUCKY FRY CHICKEN! Without fail that is what they know of Kentucky. When the Swiss couple across from me (French Switzerland, sorry Jesse) realized I was traveling alone they were impressed. You’re traveling alone?! You must be so brave! Yes, they too spoke English as did the entire student bus. We really need to catch up to this knowing more than one language phenomenon! Their comments only made me feel more alone and frightened as I glanced at my watch and realized my chances of making it to La Paz to catch the last bus for Oruro were pretty slim…

Needless to say, we made it across, and the bus went in its own little boat and then we all piled on for the rest of the ride. When we got to La Paz, I asked a cab driver if he knew when the last bus would leave for Oruro. He seemed to think there was one left (this was at 10:30), so I decided to make a run for it despite offers from the friendly Swiss folk to share a cab to the main square and help me find hostel. I ran into the bus terminal (a big, fancy yellow one like a girl from Cusco has never seen!) only to hear the ladies singing out another city name. I asked hopefully, “Oruro?” but the lady just shook her head and said “Ya no hay!” And that’s when it hit me. I was alone in a city of a million people. I had no guide book, no idea of a hostel, and no internet café to check for the one Tiffany had sent me. There were lots of lights and endless hills of lit up houses and plenty of areas that were probably dangerous that I had no clue about. I started to panic. But, behold, I saw the light of the information booth and I knew what I had to do. I asked the woman for a safe hostel. She pointed across the street to a place called El Tambo de Oro or something like that. So I went, with my bags, asked for a room, called Tiffany using a funky calling card with a chip that I bought from the front desk, and went to sleep.

It’s nice to know in some ways that I am capable of traveling alone at night in a foreign country without getting mugged or having a nervous break down or wandering into the wrong side of town. But do I want to do it again anytime soon? No way. I much prefer traveling with someone I trust. Is that the State Farm motto? Sorry. But really, I love traveling, but not alone. I want someone to laugh with and take pictures with and chuckle about that unexpected boat with! What is a trip without a friend? Lonely.

I finally made it to Oruro the next morning (and learned that a bus filled to capacity is not really to capacity if the aisle isn’t filled as well) and my friend Tiffany at the bus terminal. I felt so at ease to see a familiar place and know that I was safe and not alone. She introduced me to her peace corps friends and peace corps life, as well as the decidedly non-touristy destination of Oruro. We ate pizza and had beers and watched Grey’s Anatomy (sometimes sitcoms from the homeland can be extremely comforting, okay?!). The next day we went to Huari, the town where she is living in the altiplano of Bolivia. The altiplano, as you may guess, is high and flat. It’s a desert climate. There aren’t many trees. But there is a beer factory and one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen and plenty of kids to run after Tiffany crying, “Profe!” They really do ask where she has lost herself when she is gone. She is the local gringa celebrity. She lives in a purple house and cooks gourmet meals on her miniature stove and has learned to save water because a lot of the time during the day there is no running water. I enjoyed my time with her a great deal, and was glad to have been brave enough to travel alone to visit her even for a short time! I even got to go with her to buy her bicycle in La Paz!

So I returned home, this time on what claimed to be a direct bus but didn’t turn out to be (we had to switch yet again when we got to Peru). I sat next to a nice Irish girl who happened to also be traveling alone in South America! I also talked to a Norwegian girl who would soon be visiting Houston, Texas and who missed chocolate a great deal and had not even a hint of an accent in her English. It was a much more tranquil period of travel, even when the woman took my ticket and never gave it back and I had to explain that to the ticket guy when we changed buses…

I was so unbelievably relieved to be back in Peru. Cusco really felt like home to me, and just being here and knowing I would soon be in my own bed under the Van Gogh copy done by Edson with my host family who takes care of me and worried an amazing amount about my terrible sunburn. Home, sweet home. At least for now.