Via Bus

Satisfied with our flirtations with destruction, we left Potosi promptly afterwards. Besides the mines, which we had no intrest in. It didn´t have much else to offer except petty crime and diesel fumes. We bought bus tickets to Cochebamba where fights were breaking out in the mens room for urinal usage and then bought passage to Santa Cruz where we would make our decent into the Amazon Basin. The bolivian buses are a bit of a crap shoot when it comes to comfort but they never have a dull moment. Often times, they smell bad and are cramped. But despite the lack of creature comforts (it is a third world country afterall) they can make for an unique experience.

On ours to Santa Cruz we had a series of cheesy Mexican cowboy films playing while the sub tropical rainforest flashed past us as we drove by. Almost routinely, the bus would stop at every little homestead where a wave of Bolivian women and children would flood the bus isles, pushing and shoving eachother, trying to sell you food or homemade goods. If it isn´t the vendors, then the bus driver will pull over and just leave the bus for five minutes to chat with a friend or grab himself some snacks. Keeping a schedule is a loose term here. But as a poor backpacker you learn to roll with it and at times it is an entertaining sight.

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