Because Bolivia is an Andean country, meaning: a country in the mountains, flat land which is not jungle is scares. Therefore, most of the major cities were founded on a slither of plateau on a mountain ridge. Sucre is no different and leaving Sucre meant getting on a bus and descending into the valley to then ascend again. Easy enough.....
Our destination was Samaipata, a rural town known for its laid-back temperament and temperate climate. The real reason why we were going was because of it's proximity to where Ché Guevara was captured and assassinated. As a devout communist, I felt it pertinent to make the pilgrimage to pay homage. Hasta la victoria siempre!!
We went to Sucre’s bus station just outside the city centre, just inside civilization, to enquire about our next journey. Traveling by bus is the most popular/only mode of interstate commuting, making any bus station a centre for busy activity, commotion and noise..... Lots of god damn noise! Inside the stations exists a bizarre atmosphere of competition and comradely between the vying "bus companies". Each company will have a woman yelling at the top of their lungs the destinations that they offer. Theoretically a useful tool but the combination of 15 women in synchrony, inside a sheet metal construction creates a vial-coarse shrill deep from the belly of hell, which my ears are not designed to hear.
Air inside the bus was no longer the prime constituent but rather a medium to carry odor. Chokingly-stagnate, except for the turbulence created by people migrating to their seats, I smelt (without my decision) every person that sat behind row 8. I wanted to open the window but it was welded shut by centuries of dust formation - which is great because I'm totally fine with not being able to evacuate quickly from burning wreckage!! I inspected the overhead vents - also out of order. (The bus itself, reflected Bolivia as a generalisation, meaning: the perception that something works is just as good as if it were functioning properly.) It's ok, I thought. Calm down.....relax. The rigors and palpitations you are experiencing are first world withdrawals. Pull yourself together man! You're going to get through this! I look left to see Charly taking great amusement in my mental and emotional deterioration. She said with a cheeky grin, "I love you", I said, "We're not going to make it." The bus jolted into action.
The bus forced its way back into the mountains. The only light available, other than our head lights, was the ghostly-dim lights of oncoming buses. The width of the road, which was carved out of the edge of the mountain, felt at times a bit too snug. When other buses would pass, our bus would accommodate its presence by slowly veering to the right which would frequently be accompanied with a violently jerk to left. The higher we went the more consistent the violent jerks became. I looked at Charly and saw her head swinging like a pendulum which told me she was asleep.......Everyone was! What the hell was happening? Who are these people? Do they all have narcolepsy! This bus was producing resonance that was threatening to induce spontaneously diarrhea and everyone was falling asleep and what was this violent jerk! I again looked at Charlys head swaying, it seemed her biggest problem was the string of drool repelling from her mouth, so it was up to me to investigate the cause of the violent jerk….
Four legs appeared, off in the distance, underneath the fog. I stared at those legs, preparing myself for what was still hidden. I presumed they didn’t know we were there and assumed when they did, they would only be curious. If these guys ever had the desire to rape, murder or mug somebody opportunistically, there chance was now. Two pairs of legs materialized into a pair of hips with four arms swaying, one of each were carrying, rather loosely, a bottle of something. A sinking feeling had sunk like I had just swallowed lead.... (I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be engaged in mortal combat on this trip!) Alright! LETS HAVE IT!!! The two brutes would soon enough realise our presence, I stood up with purpose, and devised a plan: The fog would thin and no longer conceal us, the drunk “perps” would then gain enough mental stamina to realise that there was an anomaly in their mist. As a diversion, we would project an image of "we don't give a shit" and make a point not to acknowledge their presence, yet being acutely aware where they are - ready for war. Upon noticing us, their next move will be predictable. Momentarily pausing not being quite sure what we were, the rapist and thief would look at us as an exhausted pair of tits and an disheveled dollar sign. Coming closer, one of them would blurt out "hola chicos", and approach tentatively coming within full view of all our belongings behind us. Their stench of corn liquor wafting over, one of them would say, "De donde…" POW! I spring into action, jumping onto the seat then leaping foot outstretched aimed right at the fat mans chin - KNOCKING HIM CLEAN OUT! I will use my own momentum from landing, spinning anti-clockwise with a 140 newton meters of force - extending my arm outwards. Fist flying at the speed of sound, it would then connect with the skinny mans temple - KNOCKING HIM CLEAN OUT in a mist of spat out corn liquor. All without Charly waking up. I waited and watched. Watched and waited. The two passed without even a glance to then be again absorbed by the fog. (It was hard for my kidneys to deal with all the unused adrenalin.)
We inquired about prices and times with the highest recommend bus company: Boliviar. Because our destination was a 13-14 hours journey away and three hours from the next major city, we would have to be specially dropped off on the way. The bus company only offered an overnight commute starting at 5pm, which meant that we would arrive in Samaipata at 6-7am. We considered this a viable option, simply because it was the only one, and let our hotel in Samaipata know that they wouldn’t have to pick us up since they had told us that there would be taxis from 6am. After checking again the time of arrival in Samaipata, we bought our tickets for the following day. $10 for a 14 hour bus ride. Not bad, we thought.
The next day, backs straining with all our luggage, we arrived at the bus station not really sure what to expect of the journey. A crowd amassed around the bus, all anxious, wanting to store their cargo: Potatoes, giant bags of sugar, various plastic trinkets and imitation Dolce Gabbana bags. Surprisingly, we were first to load our bags into the belly of the 1990's era greyhound followed by the miscellaneous contents of the mobile bazaar. Charly mentioned to the 13 year old steward that we had to get off before everyone else and our luggage should go at the front, not the back. He nodded in understanding and then slid our bags to the very back of the cargo bay and put 30kg bag potatoes on top. Efficiency was lost in translation.....
The bus inside, reflected its condition on the outside. The seats were electric blue: patterned with mustard colored isosceles triangles, green ovals and red zig-zags. The now ivory colored head rests, on close inspection, had sweat rings emanating from the point of contact of where thousands of heads had rested. Like growth rings of an ancient red wood, I could also determine the age of the bus by counting the rings. The bus was constructed in 1520, Da Vinci's master stroke.
Leaving Sucre in peak traffic is similar to what it would be like evacuating Manhattan in the event of an oncoming asteroid. All the cars seem to vulcanize into one giant train yet were still able to still operate their horn independently in a display of defiance for the imposed unity. Our gigantic metal beast meandered its way through the chaos to reach the outskirts of the city where street vendors would try and sell clear plastic bags of water and bags of soup to the passengers through the windows. I witnessed one unfortunate lady lift one of the amorphous-like bags to show it's contents to a passenger only to have her fingernail pierce the bag thus exploding it's contents all over her face. I did not laugh as I would have normally. We pulled away and began our descend.
I respectfully acknowledged that small bushes were the only barrier between life and a sheer 900m drop, yet our progression was swift and comfortable thanks to the apparent effort la presidente Evo Morales. (Four weeks earlier we saw an election advertisement for the current president: Evo Morales. It went on to champion the presidents commitment to pave Bolivia by laying 250km of road in five years). The sun was setting fast to our left, dragging shadows across the steep mountain face across the valley to our right. I perceived this as a dramatic farewell from civilization because what lied ahead was uncertain.
After 40mins of smooth sailing, we finally arrived in the valley below. El Presidente's road had faded long ago along with the sunset. The bus stopped at several villages to pick up various passengers. Each successive village was a little bit further out of the reach of civilizations warm glow - just that little further away from basic commodities that you and I so desperately need. However, even in this extra-terrestrial-like environment some things are still universal; teenagers are inevitably awkward and grandmothers will inherently fuss over their grand children's well being. The last village was the extreme outer limit of possible human habitation in the valley. Lack of water, electricity and transportation makes it simply impossible. We, our bus, were on our own for the next nine hours.
The road we had been traveling on could have been described as a proving ground for the mars rover. How quick I am to criticize......The dirt road transitioned to an ancient river bed, wheel-sized ditches and rock melon-sized boulders, now used by Bolivians as an interstate highway. Normally, "catastrophic vibration" is a term used by aircraft engineers post-analysis of black box recordings. I can attest that that in Bolivia "catastrophic vibration" is known as "what vibration gringo?" To be able to accurately convey how impressive the noise was, please imagine being inside the following, with a hangover: Gorillas beating the shit out of an absurdly unbalanced washing machine running erratically, 1/4 filled with nuts, bolts, marbles and drum symbols and holding this mess in are hammers rarling on top. Standing next to the washing machine is Shakira, Christina Aguilera, Shaggy and Charly attempting their own version of the “Scat man” in parallel – all lasting for 9 hrs
Oncoming lights of a bus sparked my attention to pay attention. The bus driver presumably saw what I saw and began his procedure and veered right. I keenly observed our bus and the passing bus. BANG-violent jerk!!! I was still unable to narrow down possibilities. Were the buses some how colliding? We had to be driving over something! 10 mins passed and again headlights were radiating through the dust but this time we were trailed by another bus, their headlights providing more illumination. The oncoming truck approached slowly and our bus crawled to the right. With the additional light I was able to properly judge how close we were to the edge of the cliff - because I couldn't see the edge. The buses drew parallel. BANG-violet jerk!!! I snapped my head right to look out the window to witness a portion of the cliff, which the back wheels drove over, break off (which explained the BANG) and fall into the abyss. The violent jolt was the wheel momentarily losing traction. I didn't know how high we were, I assume high as we had been ascending for three hours. Charly had been asleep, or at least pretending to sleep, for the last two - so she must have not cared much. Wait till she hears about this, I thought!
Everyone’s relaxed bodies moved in unison, a kind of momentum tide, with the motion of the bus. How can they relax under these circumstances, what's their secret? I inspect the contents of my Valium bottle....all out.......DAMN NATION!! Got to do this cold turkey... brutally conscious. I know Charly’s secret, it's a mixture of courage and ignorance. Like all aspects of her life, little consideration is expended on the "what if" aspect of a scenario. She just gets on with it - and I'm trying to learn. But no learning or sleeping on this night! No, just waiting to brace myself for imminent impact. The next two hours passed and we had progressed to a semi-flat region of a mountain range where the number of passing trucks and buses were less frequent, allowing the milky way to shine a few watts brighter. While I gazing at the milky way, I saw a dim illumination, level with us on the adjacent mountain range. Being the only light in an otherwise empty vacuum, I trained my eyes on it theorizing. Our bus trudged on, vibrating the fillings out of my teeth, and the light became more substantial. I began to notice that the light wasn't the usual headlights but a fire. Curious! Closer and closer the fire grew bigger and bigger. Our bus drove around a sweeping right hand bend to position the bus head on to the fire. The buses hydraulics and breaks puffed and squeaked into action to bring us to an abrupt halt. (If this would have been a paved road in any "normal" circumstances, people would have woken with screams and squeals - but the maverick braking went unnoticed - people continued to sleep). Why have we stopped? What spooked the driver? Did the driver just see what I have been watching for 25mins? From my perspective I couldn't see much; there were steep walls on either side of our bus and the orientation of the bus meant I couldn't see the fire as well. However, I could see the two drivers heads scanning the road ahead of us in the direction of the flames, both in what looked like discussion. The bus again rattled in to motion, surging out first gear and slapping through second. Our acceleration was excessively rapid, I thought. We had sprinted the estimated 100m, I could again see the fires glow as we boomed past and I could see that the blaze was actually a truck tyre on fire with no one around.... But why? Too many uncertainties on this nervous journey, I summarized I did however learn later, when talking to the Texan who ran our hotel in Samaipata, "that a burning tyre is a tactic used by bandits as a form of disorientation, a distraction before a raid". Well Christ, I'm happy I was short of that knowledge.
2.30am took it's time and I was knackered. I was starting to feel sick, probably from exhaustion, so I tried, with one eye open, to get some rest. A few minutes past and I could feel my self falling asleep but, I was still awake enough to realise it. (I again inspected the bare Valium bottle). I had reached what was going to be the most comfortable position I could manage in the space provided...
...and some sadist yells out SAMAIPATA!! Thinking I was hallucinating I pulled back the curtain and rubbed the frost away and staring at me right in the face was a rusting green sign, "SAMAIPATA". Bullshit! What is this!! We had both set alarms and wondered if we had set them wrong. It's 3am for fuck sake and we are in the middle of no where. No time for thought! These guys didn't care about us and were not going to stop for long so we grabbed our stuff, I wrestle with my guitar from the overhead compartment and hastily put on my shoes but didn't have time to tie up the laces. Charly was already outside getting our backpacks but I had trouble carrying my stuff, stepping over people an children sleeping in the isle and my shoe laces. In the rush, I tripped over my shoe lace, heaving forward and slamming my face into the headrest of a sleeping Bolivian. With no means of bracing myself for the impact, I feebly let out a sound that sounded like a pig being slaughtered which obviously startled the sleeping Bolivian. I compounded the situation by trawling my guitar over the heads of all the sleeping passangers.
Out on the street, Charly had managed to retrieve our two big backpacks and was confirming with the 13 year old steward, who was already half on the then pulling away bus, if we were in Samaipata. Si, was yelled out. Stunned we watched the bus leave, growling through its gears as it eventually disappeared into the deep fog that hung an even meter off the ground -dragging with it all sound, leaving tinnitus ringing in our ears. We were 3hrs early, on the side of nothing in the middle of nowhere: with no map and no telephone and no clue.
Our next move was based on the premise of "how big can this place really be", so we started to walk, any direction had its own merit and off we went. We figured in a pristinely-sound-void environment, we should be as clandestine as possible yet it seemed that every footstep woke up a dog which felt the need to alert others, forcing us to retreat to our original position. We sat down on a bench with a street light that eerily gave the fog an orange hue and next to us an unsettled labrador/sausage dog was wildly barking its long-arse off due to our presence (I could have bludgeoned that mutt to make an example of him).
Our next move was based on the premise of "how big can this place really be", so we started to walk, any direction had its own merit and off we went. We figured in a pristinely-sound-void environment, we should be as clandestine as possible yet it seemed that every footstep woke up a dog which felt the need to alert others, forcing us to retreat to our original position. We sat down on a bench with a street light that eerily gave the fog an orange hue and next to us an unsettled labrador/sausage dog was wildly barking its long-arse off due to our presence (I could have bludgeoned that mutt to make an example of him).
Four legs appeared, off in the distance, underneath the fog. I stared at those legs, preparing myself for what was still hidden. I presumed they didn’t know we were there and assumed when they did, they would only be curious. If these guys ever had the desire to rape, murder or mug somebody opportunistically, there chance was now. Two pairs of legs materialized into a pair of hips with four arms swaying, one of each were carrying, rather loosely, a bottle of something. A sinking feeling had sunk like I had just swallowed lead.... (I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be engaged in mortal combat on this trip!) Alright! LETS HAVE IT!!! The two brutes would soon enough realise our presence, I stood up with purpose, and devised a plan: The fog would thin and no longer conceal us, the drunk “perps” would then gain enough mental stamina to realise that there was an anomaly in their mist. As a diversion, we would project an image of "we don't give a shit" and make a point not to acknowledge their presence, yet being acutely aware where they are - ready for war. Upon noticing us, their next move will be predictable. Momentarily pausing not being quite sure what we were, the rapist and thief would look at us as an exhausted pair of tits and an disheveled dollar sign. Coming closer, one of them would blurt out "hola chicos", and approach tentatively coming within full view of all our belongings behind us. Their stench of corn liquor wafting over, one of them would say, "De donde…" POW! I spring into action, jumping onto the seat then leaping foot outstretched aimed right at the fat mans chin - KNOCKING HIM CLEAN OUT! I will use my own momentum from landing, spinning anti-clockwise with a 140 newton meters of force - extending my arm outwards. Fist flying at the speed of sound, it would then connect with the skinny mans temple - KNOCKING HIM CLEAN OUT in a mist of spat out corn liquor. All without Charly waking up. I waited and watched. Watched and waited. The two passed without even a glance to then be again absorbed by the fog. (It was hard for my kidneys to deal with all the unused adrenalin.)
We waited until the sun rose to burn off the fog to give us an awareness for our surroundings. A kind man, after gentle persuasion, gave us a lift to our hostel – only 2km away. At the hostel, the sleepy attending woman wasn’t aware of our pending arrival, why should she - we were still an hour early, but was kind enough to let us sleep on the couch in the reception area until our room was ready.... six hours later. I slept like a stone…….A stressed-angry stone. What a night.
SO awesome! Love reading your rants, keep em coming!
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