What the hell is a bus terminal usage fee?
I waited until 1:00 for Alejandro, but he never showed up so I went into the city myself. Santa Cruz seemed much richer and cosmopolitan than anything I’d seen for a while…the houses were larger, fenced in, people drove Land Rover-type SUVs, and there were shops like GAP and Victoria’s Secret (Secretos de Victoria). The city was cute, but was almost a bit much…the differences between the rich and the poor were striking. There were your traditional women with apron and skirt, long braided hair, but also your typical urban material-loving faction, the latter owning the heart of the city.
Cheap (and sometimes interesting) meals abound in Bolivia…for lunch I had some sort of soup with a creamy broth, pasta, a little piece of steak and fries floating in it. Then came the main meal of beef, rice, and mashed potatoes. This was all for under a dollar. For dinner, I found a place with a choice of chicken, pork, or beef, which came with a whole plate of fries and rice, again, for less than a dollar.
Back at the hotel, I sat out front and watched life pass by for a while…I was away from the city center and the only gringa around. I watched one woman flossing her teeth right on the street, which was a little odd, though I was impressed by her hygeine. I also noticed an interesting marketing scheme used by the gas station across the street. They had hot girls in short skirts and high heels pumping gas. I thought this was hilarious! The place was packed, cars were lined up down the street…it was working. I later learned that there is gasoline, deisel, and gas, which I think is natural gas, or maybe propane…I ws told it was the same gas that is used for cooking…this goes into the car under the hood; I originally thought these chicks were checking the oil, but no, they were pumping a different sort of gas, under the hood.
Alejandro had shown up at some point during the day and left a note that he would come the following morning, which he did. I was leaving that night to go to Cochabamba, so I packed up my stuff and we headed off to the bus station so I could drop off my bag and buy a ticket. I was hungry, so we stopped for breakfast…I had a chicken soup, which I thought was odd for breakfast, but I’ve since learned that it’s common in Bolivia. They eat a lot of soup.
Alejandro took me around the city…I had already seen the main city center, so he showed me some parks where people tend to gather (I was freaked out by people offering tattoos right there in the middle of the park), and we walked around some markets, which are everywhere. There’s someone selling something on every street. We walked to his sister’s house/beauty parlor, and I met his family, who were very nice and hospitable…they brought me bananas and grapes to eat, and we talked a bit.
By now it was dark, and it was time to head to the bus station, so we got in a communal taxi, called a Trufi. These are taxis that have set routes. I sat in the front seat, and, looking in front of me, I slowly came to realize that I was looking right at the speedometer, gas gauges, and, well, all that stuff that’s usually in front of the driver. I then noticed a huge hole in the dashboard right in front of me, where a steering wheel must have been. I looked over at the driver, and, well, his side was dark, just a steering wheel sticking out from the dash. What the hell? Where did this car come from, and why did they go through all the effort to rig it up? I have come to realize that this is very common…sometimes the gauges work, sometimes they don’t; I guess it doesn’t matter much.
We made it to the bus station, and I called Elvis to confirm that I was leaving for Cochabamba (at his request). We had to take the old highway because apparently a bridge had been washed out on the new highway; Elvis calculated that we would arrive at about 6am and told me he would meet me at the bus station. “But that’s so early!” He said it didn’t matter, he would be there. I thanked Alejandro for the tour and headed into the bus station with 18 minutes until my bus left…this would be a race to the finish.
I hadn’t eaten anything except my breakfast of soup and some random servings of fruit during the day, so I needed something to eat. A lady out front was selling biscuits. Perfect, though I had to bargain her down, which was not too hard…as I walked away after her initial offer she halved her price…that’s more like it.
I had learned my lesson about using the bathroom before boarding the bus in Bolivia, so I ran to find it, asking people along the way. I paid the fee and went in. As I was coming out, someone was inspecting my 10 Boliviano note with some sort of infrared light…they didn’t like the bill because it was old and ripped, so I had to change it for another one. (Everyone is always inspecting bills here…they don’t like ones that are ripped or old, and apparently there are a lot of counterfeit bills running around that they like to shove off on gringos, so I’ve learned to really pay attention to the bills).
Water. I need water. Time is ticking, and the last bus I was on really left on time. You don’t want to risk it, anyway. I walked up to a stand and asked the girl if there was water. Her phone rang and she answered it, going into the back. I assumed she was going to get me water. She came back out. Water? No, there’s no water. You have to go upstairs. Thanks…that was really nice of you to have me wait here while you answered your phone. I ran upstairs and got water, then ran back down to the embarking area.
Everyone was pushing in the line to get to the buses…people were screaming “Cochabamba!”; all the bus companies leave at pretty much the same time. I got to the front of the line and handed the guy my ticket. “You need to pay the bus terminal usage fee of 3 Bolivianos…over there at the information desk, and then bring the ticket back.” “Cochabamba! Cochabamba!” Aw, hell. I ran over, payed my terminal usage fee (what the hell is that?), and ran back into line, which was now longer. Got in. Now I gotta find my bus. All the buses were leaving at the same time for the same place, and the place was teeming with people either trying to find their bus or selling stuff. Cosmos, Cosmos…that was the name of the company. Is this my bus? No, this is the bed bus…I had a normal bus. This is a different company. This is the right company, wrong destination. Where the hell is the Cosmos bus to Cochabamba?
I finally found a group of people standing, bus-less. These were my people; our bus was not here yet. Sighs of relief like these don’t come often, but they’re unforgettable when they do. I stood, relaxed and ate my biscuits and water, waiting for the bus to come…now all I had to worry about was my luggage, which I had dropped off with the company earlier that day and was told it would be waiting for me on the bottom of the bus in Cochabamba. When the bus came, I got on and watched them load the luggage…I couldn’t see so good from my seat, and never did actually see my bag, but I trusted them. It had already worked from Trinidad to Santa Cruz, anyway.
They showed some stupid movie during the bus ride (something about some firefighter saving the world and his daughter during a Stanley Cup Finals game…anyone know what it is?) I fell asleep and woke up in the middle of the night with a blanket on me…the lady next to me was sharing her blanket with me. When I woke up again later that morning, as it was starting to get light out, outside the window it was cold, foggy, and rocky…we were going up into the mountains. I was wearing a t-shirt (though I had my fleece with me). I looked around and everyone was bundled up with thick coats and blankets. To be honest, I wasn’t too cold; I think some of the buses in Brazil with air conditioning were worse. But, looking outside, passing little villages with people sitting in trucks, wrapped in blankets, I thought, oh man, this is gonna be cooooold, with a lot of o’s.
I thanked the lady for the blanket. “Of course! It’ cold.” These people are so nice…this was the second time in a week I had been covered with a blanket by someone. We stopped a few times in the morning to pee (per the request of the general bus population…”Stop! Stop!”…and then a few minutes later…”Go! Go!”…they were slightly impatient). It was already about 10:00, and I was thinking about Elvis waiting at the bus station since 6. The lady told me about an hour more, and I fell asleep for the rest of the ride.
It is common practice for passengers on these buses to all bombard the luggage attendant for their luggage; I tend to wait, maybe stepping forward once I see my bag. Well, I hung back a while this particular morning…I didn’t see my bag. After everyone had collected their stuff, I had the attendant open up every compartent (there was some sort of bed setup in one compartment under the bus); my bag was not there. “Check another bus.” Another bus, huh? Well, I wandered around looking for another Cosmos bus from Santa Cruz while I once again became comfortable with the idea of not having any belongings. Luckily I found a bus with my bag and headed off to call Elvis.
Tags: Bolivia, Tag Index
Tania
March 21st, 2006 at 3:29 pm
Oh my goodness! So much great information. I love the style of your blog and how candid you are. You’ve got a lot of great travel writing going on here. You should take a look at this contest I found earlier on [this site] that I thought you might find interesting. Anyway, happy travels!
March 21st, 2006 at 7:47 pm
Tania, I’ve spent the last few days reading your entire blog, and I have to say its wonderful! I really enjoy your writing style, and I also love your fly by the seat of your pants attitude. Please continue to tell us all the little details, especially prices of stuff…I find all of that really interesting. Oh, and your black and white pictures of the sand dunes,etc were amazing. Looking forward to reading all of your future updates. Stay safe!