Our curiosity is aroused again

After almost 8 months of commuting between Chile and Argentina, we are about to enter a new country. For the first time in a long time, a slight nervousness sets in before crossing the border. We are going to Bolivia. The rumour mill is buzzing about border crossing, wild camping and travelling in Bolivia in general, but reliable information is scarce, so we prefer to make up our own minds. The chance meeting of a Swiss couple with their camper just before the border may not lower our pulse, as they talk about some document and fees they have already filled out for the border crossing. We have no idea what they are talking about... Well, experience has taught us, it is always worth a try, in the worst case there is one more night in the land of the steak specialists.

But all worries are in vain, the border crossing is unproblematic, relatively efficient and we will never pay the fees mentioned earlier, we are also not sure if they really exist. And bang, as soon as we are on the other side, we dive into a new world. Although the border runs through the middle of a town, the street scene changes abruptly. And we are immediately gripped. The bustle, the people, the life, we can hardly wait to discover the country. We leave the border town behind us and look for a camping site a little off the main axis for the first night. We want to get a feel for the country and its people and allow ourselves this to settle in before we go wild camping. A dizzying road winds through an impressive landscape and thrills are guaranteed when crossing the not few trucks on the road. The drive, exhausting for the driver and impressive for the co-driver, ends at an idyllic campsite in the green valley floor. A perfect place for the first night, even if, in retrospect, we clearly overpaid. But new country, new customs, new prices, this can happen at the beginning, and yet we are happy for the warm-hearted local family.

The next day, Javier climbs the serpentines again and we continue towards Potosí. The landscape often resembles that of northern Argentina, many colourful and impressive rock formations, constant ups and downs, with a village in between every now and then. Already on the first day, the work ethic of the Bolivians catches our eye. While we often saw construction sites in neighbouring countries to the south where, without exaggeration, half of the workers were taking a break (it felt like the whole day), here we see many construction sites where everyone is hard at work, often with very simple tools. This impression is reinforced during the whole journey through the country, the Bolivians seem to be a hard-working people. And what would travelling be without encounters. In this case we meet our German friends, whom we have met several times in the south of Chile, by chance on the way. So we have a coffee chat at the roadside, where we exchange the latest travel news and tips, a short happy reunion, as we are travelling in the opposite direction. Shortly before dark we reach Potosí. A city that does not leave a good first impression. The area is grey, dirty, industrial and rough, yet it has an extremely splendid past. In the city, which lies partly at over 4000 m above sea level in the barren high plateau, the Altiplano, harsh conditions prevail. The days are warm, the nights cold, and there is little water. Its heyday was in the 17th century, when the Spanish mined silver on a grand scale and the raw material was shipped all over the world. Exact figures on how many lives were lost during this period are still not known. These "glorious" times are over and what remains is a beautiful, well-preserved old town in colonial style, simple monotonous dwellings around the centre and a mountain, the Cerro Rico, which is constantly shrinking due to mining. Minerals, mainly tin, silver and copper, are still mined today under hair-raising working conditions. But the price is high.  The life expectancy of a miner is 35-40 years and their success depends primarily on luck, as they tell us. Some have already become rich from it, but many toil hard and see little return. We are torn as to whether we can justify a tour of the mine, but then decide on one with the part-time miner Wilson. The tour is impressive, thought-provoking and we have the greatest respect for the strenuous work under the most difficult conditions. But we also learn from the miners not to sink into pity, because this is not what they want. They prefer to make jokes with their black humour, which makes the situation easier to bear, and they are also proud that they can cope with this demanding work. Coca leaves, with which the workers fill their cheek pouches, also have a supporting effect. They reduce the feeling of hunger and strengthen stamina. But the strong alcohol (98%) is also popular. You can buy it at the "Mercado de los Mineros", where dynamite is also sold legally. Apparently it is the only public market in the world where this is allowed. However, we did not make use of this offer. The visit remains in our memories and after another cold night above the city (the temperatures drop below freezing), we leave Potosí and turn towards Sucre, the constitutional capital of the country. The road there continues to wind through mountainous regions, because even though the city is lower, we are still talking of 2800m.

Sucre is a stark contrast to Potosí, although the city is often described as the most beautiful in the country. This is not an unfamiliar place for Sara, who was here on a language study trip a few years ago and recognises some of the corners. The days there develop into our routine. Lunch at the local market, where you can get your fill for Fr. 1.50, then down to the juice department, where you can get fresh fruit juices at unbeatable prices, followed by a stroll in the pretty white town, a good coffee in the local café and in the evening we treat ourselves to international food such as pizza or something similar, because this offer is also large and delicious. We meet old acquaintances whom we met on the trip or whom we know from Switzerland and enjoy the fellowship. The days fly by and we are soon back on the roads with little traffic. We skip the detour to the east because of the rainy season, as it seems to rain extensively in the lower parts of the country, and we have little desire to do so.

The next city calls, Cochabamba. We spend a night at a small lake in the hills. In the meantime, our concerns about wild camping in Bolivia have long since evaporated, our experiences are unproblematic. Unfortunately, we don't escape the rain completely and so we see little of Cochabamba. At this point, I would like to praise shopping centres, they have often saved us from rain (or heat). The highlight of Cochabamba is the small campsite where we spend the night. A designer house with an outdoor shower, almost like a luxury hotel. This town is still at an altitude of 2500m. We won't be going any lower in this country, on the contrary, the next day we'll be climbing again, and quite a bit. Of course, this requires a lot of petrol, and getting it is not easy.

In Bolivia, fuel is heavily subsidised by the state and there are two price categories, for locals and foreigners. The price for foreigners is almost 3 times higher. If you want to fill up as a foreigner, you have to register with your ID and car number, that's the theory. The practical application requires some negotiating skills and luck. Sometimes you are turned away directly with the reason that they don't serve foreigners, probably because the administrative effort is too much for them. Sometimes they want some kind of document, but we still don't know what it is, so we have to drive on. The best solution, smaller petrol stations without video surveillance, ask for a tankful without a receipt and negotiate the price. That way the petrol station attendant can put the surplus in his own pocket and we get a lower price, win win for both. So it's better not to drive to the petrol station with the last drop of petrol, because you never know if it will work out. In addition, you have to reckon with the fact that there might not be any fuel left at all or that there might be no electricity, anything is possible.

Back on the road we reach the plateau where La Paz is located. On the way we wonder about the many street dogs. Not basically their existence, but where they are. Far away from any civilisation and always along the main road. We find out the reason later. Apparently it is considered a "good deed" to feed dogs, so many drivers throw food scraps out of the window, much to the delight of the strays. In this said plain, the Altiplano, the landscape becomes monotonous and boring, there is hardly any vegetation. We experience a moment of shock when large chunks of tyre from a lorry fly towards us after it bursts a tyre. Luckily they hit the bumper and not the windscreen, but it is pretty violent and the cover is now a bit more wobbly. Towards evening we reach a village where we spend the night in the middle of the village square. No problem for the locals, we are greeted in a friendly manner, they have a chat and allow us to rest. The village is inhabited by Aymaras, an indigenous people who live in the Altiplano and make up about 25% of the population. In Bolivia, 50% of the population belong to indigenous groups, the second largest group being the Quechua.

Bolivia grabbed us from the first minute and inspires us with its versatility and liveliness, and the next climax (literally) is just around the corner, La Paz. But enough for today, more about that in the next blog. Hasta luego.