Que una aventura....Our Bolivian odyssey begins.

So many exciting things have happened to us in the past 48 hours. I´ll start with our last day in Buenos Aires, (Spanish for ´fair winds.´)

The three of us have been staying at the Art Factory Hostel, San Telmo, Buenos Aires. San Telmo is reminiscent of the left bank in Paris, there are amazing bakeries selling the most delectable chocolate cake you have ever tasted, artisan shops, boutiques, street vendors selling little bread rolls, hole in the wall fruit stalls. Our dorm room had a beautiful balcony which overlooked Avenida Piedras, but at night we barely caught any zzz´s because big trucks blasted down the street constantly. The drivers in Buenos Aires are mad! I swallowed my uncle´s sage advice when he said, ´Be very careful on the streets of Buenos Aires. The drivers WILL NOT stop for you.´

We spent our last day in Buenos Aires wandering around historic San Telmo. We sat down in a cute bohemian cafe where locals were writing, reading newspapers and books sitting quietly and generally relaxing in the strong Buenos Aires sun. The waiter promptly presented us with a placemats explaining the prosititute and brothel history of the area in the 1800s.

We had to whip out our Spanish dictionary to say useful phrases like, `the Bill, please.´ Despite our botched attempts, generally the portenos tolerate our attempts at speaking Spanish.`Portenos´ is the word to decribe Buenos Aireans. It means elite, a bit toffee nosed and super sophisticated.

We wandered through a building we thought was a museum. It looked just like the Parthenon, with huge Roman columns and majestic steps leading up to it. In fact, it was the Engineering faculty of the local university.

Still surviving the sticky heat, we went wandering around the Buenos Aires eco park. Quaint trails wound around a massive expanse of marshland.

The dichotomy between rich and poor really struck a chord with us in Buenos Aires. The city used to be marvellous, but it´s glorious buildings are crumbling and not very well maintained. There is a waterfront area which is modern and glossy new, but the pavements and parks are covered in rubbish.

It was a very awe-inspiring feeling to gaze around us in the city and see endless boulevards reaching towards the horizon. Sky scraper apartment buildings grab the sky with opulent hanging gardens pouring out from the balconies.

Our next adventure was catching the bus to Bolivia, a 36 hour bus ride: 2000 km. With bags in tow and determined faces, we made it to the huge Retiro bus terminal. Unfortunately we had no idea that we had to have our passports scanned at one of the countless FlechaBus kiosks, so when the time came to board the bus, there was trouble. We handed our passports over to the Flecha Bus man obediently as we were about to board the bus, but he gave us a dark look. Apparently we hadn´t fulfilled the exact beaurocratic process and were unable to board. Bugger.

So Peter sprinted inside the terminal with an incredibly friendly Bolivian woman who offered to translate, and they thankfully sorted out our boarding issue. Ah, FlechaBus I have very fond memories of Flecha Bus. On board the bus, techno salsa music was playing loudly on repeat, along with latin american music videos from the 80s with men wearing tight white jeans. We felt very out of place as the only tourists on board, and when word got around that we were from Nueva Zelanda. the locals all looked at us curiously. Our passports wre checked numerous times, we got suspicious looks because New Zealand probably sounds like an obscure country to them. The bus driver asked us ´New Zealand, ees dat Asia?´

We had stocked up on snacks to last us for the long bus ordeal: Choco chip loaf, lollies, apricots...So you can imagine we were a little confused when the bus suddenly pulls up at a diner a few hours north of Buenos Aires. We thought, ah ok, this is where we can buy some food. But no! The bus driver declared ´Lunch. Free.´ We all piled inside and sat at specially allocated seats for FlechaBus. Soon large plates crammed with hunks of fried chicked and mashed potatoes were placed in front of us and our glasses were filled with Pepsi. The service was amazing! And it was all included in the el cheapo bus fare.

A few hours later, we stopped at another diner and were given the same identical meal: Big hunks of fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

The bus trip rolled on and on, we passed some very poor villages where crumbling brick and stick shelters were the norm.

As we finally approached the Bolivian border, the excitement started to build up. The border was heavily policed; from the barren Argentine side we peeked through to the new frontier where we could see a thriving bazaar and crumbling colonial buildings nestled amongst jungly lime green mountains.

After lining up in soaring heat to pass through the border, we had to navigate our way through a crowded bazaar to get stamped by the Bolivian immigration authority. We clutched our bags close because a woman on the bus warned us against pickpocketers. Pictures of the President were plastered everywhere, scary officials glared at us.....The immigration officer who stamped our passports had no idea how many days New Zealanders were allowed to stay in La Paz on a tourist visa. (We were actually only allowed 30 days but we were stamped with 90 days!)

The bazaar was filled with sweet aromas, musty infusions, coca leaves and child street vendors selling everything from Hannah Montana tshirts to undies and flashing trinkets. We tried to haggle but the Bolivians wouldn´t have a bar of it.

Now we´re in balmy Santa Cruz de la Sierra. The heat envelopes you like an African summer. We saw an incredible church service today in the Plaza de 24 Septembre. The Jesus statue was dressed up in a sparkly purple skirt. Kid you not. The bolivian people are so charming and friendly, even the beggars are polite. We are liking the relaxed ambience, but not the sweaty 40 degree afternoons! The town centro feels like southern Spain. We feel bad for paying such miserly small amounts for things like food in the supermarket. We stocked up on lunch food, snacks and dinner for 2 days and only had to pay about $30 NZD. The Bolivian economy is in a state of crisis, I only hope it is resilient enough to provide strong services like health and education into the future.

Love

Brittany