Bolivia, you are everything I ever wanted in a travel partner
So, I was extremely nervous to go to Bolivia…weird. I reluctantly walked to the dock and bought my ticket to cross the river into Bolivia. The boat pulled right up, I got on, and we crossed. A man exchanging money waved me over and told me to sit. I sat, thanking him, probably in Portuguese. He asked here I was from, and I answered, all the time fumbling through my Spanish/Portuguese mix. He was extremely nice…answered all my questions about where the immigration office was and how I could get out of Guayaramirim, all while complementing my Spanish (hilarious, but nice words of encouragement). I thanked him as he shook my hand and pointed me in the direction of immigration.I walked over to the immigration office and everyone pointed me in the direction of the correct office. I sat down at the desk to fill out my paper work, and I could smell my must…I was afraid that the immigration lady could smell me too. I fumbled through more Spanish – I knew the words, they just wouldn’t come out, only Portuguese would come out. It got so bad that even the words that are the same in Spanish and Portuguese wouldn’t come out. However, I got my stamp without issue. I walked across the street to the port…all the highways were under water, and boat was the only way to get out of town.
I walked into the captain’s office and asked about boats to Trinidad, which is where I was told I had to go. We walked outside so he could show me the boat scheduled; as we stood there, a navy guy came up, saluted, and continued on. The boat I wanted was Boldito, and I was told to be there at 5, the boat would leave at 6. I sat down at a little place and had a Coke, contemplating my Spanish. My nerves were a wreck…I wanted to laugh, cry, and laugh because it was silly that I wanted to cry. I wasted the rest of the afternoon on the internet, making plans for our Inca Trail reservations in April. I honestly felt better after using the internet…not sure if it’s because I was back in Englsih, a familiar language, or what…maybe I just had some time to take my mind off my poor Spanish.
Anyway, I headed back to the port to wait…5, 5:30 came, still no boat. The captain said “It’ll come here, right in front”, so I waited some more. Here is where the Gringa Magnet factor set in…one guy started to talk to me, then more came up, and we were all talking, my Spanish getting better, though I was still fumbling over words. No one understood my Portoñol reference – I had to explain that. So, we’re talking, and I hear “atencion!”; I look over and see an army guy and a navy guy standing at attention at the flagpole. I look back at the guys, and they’re all standing, whispering “Stand up” to me, making low hand motions upward. I stand up while they take the flag down, and sat back down after watching everyone else. “You don’t have that in the US?” “Well, sure we do, not where I live, but in some places they do.” I hate when people ask me questions about the States that I can’t fully answer.
We sat a while longer, eating Brazil nuts, them showing me how to open the shell; one guy bought me a tutti-frutti frozen ice pop. People started to peel away for the night, wishing me a good journey. It was already 7, an hour after my boat was supposed to leave, and still there was no sign of it. The captain was gone, but there was some other guy there who thought I should be back at the port at 5am. The last guy remaining, Valentin, who was the first one I started talking with, walked me to a hotel, not entirely sure where it was. As Valentin asked someone along the way, a little kid came up and asked if he could help me find a place, and pointed me in the right direction. Valentin walked me the rest of the way, wished me well, and left as the hotel lady greeted me with a big smile. These people are so nice! Everyone I met was so, so nice. I love Bolivia!
I went for some dinner on the plaza and watched the parade of motorscooters…there were so many of them, a constant stream, as if they were just doing circles around the plaza. Some were going fast, some slow, some 2×2 talking together; some carried 2, 3, 4 people; some sat side-saddled, some with their feet up; young people, old people, official-looking seargent people. Everyone had a moto.
Back at the hotel, the lady told me it is practically unheard of for a boat to leave so early, so I decided to sleep in. She actually tried to wake me up in the morning, which was extremely nice, but I told her I would go later. I went down to the port around 8:30 and was told the boat would leave around 10. Perfect. I showered and packed and grabbed some breakfast (in this case, breakfast merely means food in the morning, because I had steak, an egg, rice, potatoes, and salad) . I was rushing to get back to the dock by 10, but of course there was no boat.
I did find some of my friends from the night before. Valentin was there, as well as the man with the Brazil nuts, who let me know he had more. These men must just hang out all day, I decided…it was the middle of the week. Valentin told me that a lot of people did not have work right now because the roads were flooded, and it was impossible to get to their jobs. There was a dead dog floating in the water, and a crazy man splashing around not too far away. I was told that he had taken too many drugs and had lost it. I watched as he wrapped the dog in plastic and struggled with his pants around his knees to put it inside someone’s boat, sitting in the hot sun…couldn’t be a good thing.
Finally at noon, the boat pulled up. It wasn’t the kind of boat I had been on in Brazil…this was a smaller boat with cabins, pushing a large flatbed cargo barge, loaded with trucks. I was told it was between $30 and $40 for the 6 day trip to Trinidad, which I thought was great…all that, including food, and a cabin! I boarded the boat and quickly came to realize by all the people camped out under the trucks that I would not be in a cabin, but rather, also camped out on the cargo area…hmmm…this would be interesting…
Tania