To Torotoro, campesino style
16 November 2005 (Wednesday) – Cochabamba to Parque Nacional Torotoro, Bolivia
Naoki and I met up and headed to the bus station of the private bus company going to Torotoro and bought our tickets. Gosh, to be honest, the area looked downright dodgy. I wonder what we are in for tonight.
Later in the afternoon, I happened to check my email and found that a French guy named Renaud had emailed to me, saying that he wants to go to Torotoro as well. He was staying at one of the two hostels where I had left a note at. Great! Another companion! But he had said he would wait for me at his hostel at 9am. Of course, I completely missed that appointment. So, I wrote to tell him to meet us – a Chinese girl and a Japanese guy – at Plaza 14 de septiembre at 5pm.
At 5pm, Naoki and I were waiting at the plaza when I spotted a guy who had a piece of paper in his hand and seemed to be searching for someone. OK, this has got to be Renaud. But the chap walked right past us! I chased after him and tried to call his name. But gosh, I realised I did not know how to pronounce it! Argh… I had had 9 months of French lessons just before I came on this trip. But 4+ months of travelling in Spanish-speaking countries had clean-wiped everything off. Later, when his head finally turned somewhere towards us, I waved at him and he smiled and came over.
We introduced each other and he said that he was really keen to go, but he had to get his things ready now. We agreed to meet him later at a cafe for some salteñas before we leave. Finally, there, we chatted (or rather, just Renaud and I chatted, as we could not communicate with Naoki at all) and I asked him if he went to Pasteleria Sofia last night. Well, Renaud had been wondering how to go to Torotoro the whole of Tuesday. Finally, at 8:35pm, he approached the reception in his hostel to ask for information and the guy showed him my note. I had stated I would wait for whoever til 8:30pm. So, by the time he hurried there, I had just left. He even went in and asked the waiter if there had been a Chinese girl sitting in the cafe for a while. Yep, they said, but she left. Hahaha… So, my note almost worked!
We arrived at the bus station at around 7pm. Oh my goodness… something was not quite right! There were massive massive massive numbers of campesinos there… way too many to fit into a bus. And, there were massive massive massive sacks of potatoes, onions, flour, tomatoes, oranges, etc… impossible to fit into a bus. What was going on?
Soon, a gigantic truck pulled up and loads of people started heaving the sacks of produces (perhaps weighing up to 90kg each) onto the truck. This exercise took more than an hour, but when it was nearly full with the goods, several of the campesinos climbed onto the truck to sit on top of the produces. Oh, they were going the ‘truck’ way. Tough, especially the ride is 8 hours through very harsh roads!
Our bus that was supposed to leave at 7pm only showed up at around 8:30pm. The rest of the campesinos and locals who had not climbed onto the truck, surged to the bus and pushed and shoved to clamber on. Although Renaud had just arrived, he actually managed to buy a ticket. But we wondered how it was possible!
Naoki and I got to our seats 1 and 2 safely. But Renaud was seated at the door exit. The campesinos had filled up the entire bus, and then, laden the aisle with more sacks of potatoes and onions. People were stepping on Renaud’s lap to get across.
The place next to the driver which covered the hot engine, sat 3 or 4 people. 2 more were sitting on the dashboard. And these were the lucky ones! For several more people were standing at the back, trying to sit on the canisters of gas stoves and sacks of goods. Women with babies were amongst these people as well.
A terribly ancient man was trying to sit on something on the aisle. Renaud felt compassionate and wanted to offer his seat to him, but the ticket lady snapped at Renaud to stay where he was because it was HIS seat. I guess, some people chose to go the aisle way as the non-existing ‘seats’ there were cheaper. That explained why Renaud managed to get a ticket at this time!
A quarrel ensued when a guy refused to let another put his sack of potatoes in front which actually would land right on top of this guy’s feet. So, a hefty campesina, with her baby strapped to her, agreed to stand up to let the sack of potatoes be moved there, so that sack now became her seat. It was impossible!!! This was NOT REAL! I mean, I had talked about collectivos being squeezed to the extreme by the locals but those were for short distances. This was for an 8-hour overnight journey!
And when I mean ‘hefty’, I do mean it. The women in this region wear a knee-length velvety pleated skirt that seemed to have an underwire around the hip area to make the hip even wider, which based on their greasy intake and number of babies produced per woman, were already wide enough. They also wear wide-rimmed hats with ribbons that in a crowded situation like now, really got in the way of everything and everyone.
But somehow or other, when everyone had settled down, where every single inch was filled with a butt, a baby, an onion, a toe… the bus moved off at 9:10pm. Great! But after a mere half an hour of careening on the highway, we came to a toll-booth and somehow the police stopped the bus and there were exchanges in Quechua (this region once again speaks Quechua) and I heard ‘coca’ several times. The police was checking for coca leaves. I supposed everyone here has their own personal stash. So, the police must be searching for massive bags of coca leaves intended for illegal activities like, I don’t know, brewing Coca-Cola. Loads of people dislodged from their respective seats and squeezed spots and got down to talk to the police. Perhaps, several even had to unload their goods from the top of the bus or from the aisle for inspection.
This dance happened for about 45 minutes before everyone piled back in again and we moved on again. Guiltily, I peered at Naoki and Renaud. Oh gosh, what had I gotten both of them into?, I wonder. This was the most horrible and yet the most interesting bus-ride I had taken in a while! But both of them were good-humoured at this point, as it was also a chance for them to experience this way of travelling with the campesinos. Forget about bus-cama (fancy buses with seats that leaned nearly all the way down), this was upright sleeping (if you can) for the next bumpy 8 hours.
At around 1am, we had a flat. Of course, we had to have this flat. This is a classic! What is a nightmare bus-ride without a flat tyre in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night?
Tags: 09) Bolivian Rhapsody, Cochabamba
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