The trip that probably changed the course of my life to travel is probably when I traveled to Bolivia at 17. I signed up with an adventure travel company, Where There Be Dragons, and off I went with a dozen other teenagers to South America.

This trip was certainly more adventurous than any other I have done since. In Bolivia we hiked through the Andes for weeks at a time reaching peeks of more than 16,000 feet. We stayed in villages with limited electricity and running water. I seriously shared a rock bed with straw underneath a straw roof with hanging corn. I bathed every few days in a bucket of freezing cold water. I herded sheep at ate a bland grain for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Of course I stuck some Mike & Ike’s into each meal since I smuggled them all the way from Miami.

I picked out one photo that really sums of this trip. During our 5th day into a two week long trek we arrived at a very long river. The only way around was to walk far out of the way. Our group, including three leaders stopped, thinking about what to do.

I can be pretty lazy so i’m not going to pretend I did this for the adventure but because I really did not want to make this trek any longer than it had to be. So I suggested we jump across and before anyone could really argue with me I jumped.

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I could not wait to leave Bolivia. For all of its spectacular site-seeing activities that I have written about, the country is one that can frustrate and make even the most seasoned of travelers overjoyed to leave and never return.

My utter dislike for Bolivia really hit me towards near the end of my trip after while in Bolivia’s second capital city, Sucre. A country that has two official capital cities should indicate that something is a little off with the country. It makes little sense just like a person with two heads would seem strange.

I met a friendly French student on summer break from studying in Canada on my bus to Sucre and together we took a taxi to the city center to share a hotel room. That is often what happens when traveling and I was glad to already have a buddy in Sucre.

We found ourselves at a cafe overlooking the city one afternoon.

It was sunny with beautiful views and awful service as usual in Bolivia. As one of 10 patrons in the cafe I waited 20 minutes for a menu until I gave up as usual and walked to the register to ask for one and order my food.

I sat in a lawn chair and waited for a nearly half an hour until I could not be patient any more . I walked back to the register and inquired about my order.

“Oh sorry we are out of eggs. Do you want to order something else?”

I walked out.

The French student, I, and an American girl we met had dinner and then attended a folkloric concert that night for “traditional” Andean music and dance.

The production was wonderful but some of the rules for customers make me scratch my head.  The theater had a sign posted that any pictures taken would cost $1 each, and videos $2. Instead of promoting the show to other travelers on my blog I cannot because I have no pictures to show.

The next day I opted for fast food having learned my lesson not to order food at a regular restaurant (note the long wait happened many times before in other places).

“Excuse me, can you please where tell me where Kilómetro 7 is located?”

I asked this question to two strangers on the street. Kilómetro 7 happens to be a well known street so its a pretty simple answer. Both times the people ignored me completely.

I did find the street with a fast food restaurant and this time I ordered fried chicken from a fast food chain and to my surprise I was handed a tray with chicken but no eating utensils. In Colombia they provide plastic gloves to eat fried chicken and in the United States they provide a fork and knife. In Bolivia they provide nothing as I noticed every other customer eating with their bare hand.

I went to the bathroom to go wash mine. There was no soap. 9 out of 10 times in Bolivia a restaurant’s bathroom does not have soap or toilet paper. I did notice half of the restaurant patrons wearing disposable masks to prevent swine flu though. Little do they realize that the mask only protects a person from spreading the virus and only for 1 hour.

Sucre was a disappointment overall even without the irritating occurrences. I made my decision to leave Bolivia having seen nearly every city and done every activity that interested me. It was time to leave and I was glad.

The bus to the border of Bolivia and Argentina was a straightforward 10+ hour ride on rough, bumpy roads.

For once in a long time I felt fortunate because the seat next to me went unoccupied. But the two men sitting in front appeared unfriendly asking me questions I had trouble understanding in an uncomfortable tone.

8 hours into the ride close to midnight we stopped in a tiny town for a quick meal. This is usual as the bus drivers deserve a break and its a place to pick up more passengers. I re-boarded the bus and this time a short, middle-aged Bolivian man sat in the unoccupied seat next to me. His teeth were missing and he smelled somewhat funky but overall I judged him as harmless. I initiated a short conversation since we would be spending the next 6 hours sitting next to each other.

“Hi, how are you” – me

“Very good and you” -him

“A little tired but ok -me

“Ah a gringo. Where are you from”

“The United States”

“Oh that is nice do you like Bolivia so far? Where have you been”

Our conversation was innocent. During a lag in the conversation I asked,

“What are you going to Villazon for? Do you have family there?” – me

“No, I don’t have any family. I work there. I bring products from Bolivia and resell them across the border in Argentina.” -him

Our conversation died off soon after so I turned on my music and closed my eyes. An hour or so later I noticed he was sitting awfully close to me. I looked over to him but he looked fast asleep. Oh that makes sense. He is asleep and does not realize he is taking up a lot of my personal space, I thought.

Then he placed his right hand to rest on on my left shoulder. I shifted further to my right and lowered my shoulder to gently remove his hand. For the time being I felt comfortable enough to close my eyes.

But as I shifted my body further to the right he took up the remaining space. I had enough and boxed him out to regain my lost space.

His hand went right back on my body, but this time to my groin area. I countered this move placing both of my hands underneath his and then shifted to the right some more giving up the space I had recently taken back.

You have to keep in mind that it was past 2AM and the bus was nearly pitch dark and quiet with most adults, children,  and this man asleep.

He rested his head on my shoulder. I shifted even further to the left and put my hands up on the armrest to hold on to my seat. At that moment he began a gradual move towards putting hind hands on my crotch. I blocked this move putting my hands back underneath.

I felt strongly uncomfortable but sat in this position for a long time, counting the hours until we would reach our destination.

But then he turned aggressive and moved faster. My hands were blocking my crotch but he powered through to place his hands underneath, at nearly 30 separate times.

I snapped.

“Stop it now”, I screamed looking at him straight in the eye.

He retreated to the normal position and I regained my composure.

Just  a half hour later he went at it again. We played the same games until I snapped for a second time and physically pushed his hands away with strong force. The two men in front of me turned around and stared.

As a foreigner riding a freezing, bumpy bus having to stay alert way past a reasonable hour these men made me paranoid. I started plotting my exit from the bus. I would grab my stuff an immediately walk fast to the border.  The dirty old man understood that I would not accept his creepiness any more and so after 3 hours of torture he left me alone.

At the time I felt uncomfortable, violated, and had a extreme dislike for Bolivia in general. I no longer feel uncomfortable or violated but my extreme dislike for the country remains.

It was light out now and I starting recognizing the scenery which meant less than 2 hours until my destination: Argentina. The bus later entered the Bolivian border town of Villazon and I quickly grabbed my bag from underneath the bus and walked briskly to the border. I was not prepared for such cold temperatures. I don’t think anyone can really be.

As my hands and feet grew numb I reached the border. I entered the long line sandwiched between Bolivians and Peruvians with their applications to immigrate to Argentina. I put my bag down and closely watched it as I approached a border official to make certain I was waiting in the correct line. He said yes and I got back into line. I waited a long time for each person to be processed since the paperwork to move to a new country is long as it should be. When it was my turn the angry blond hair Argentine border official pointed the other way and said,

“You need to get an exit stamp from Bolivia first”

I felt morally defeated as I took a step backwards to wait in another line for the exit stamp. Once with my exit stamp I passed the curious Bolivians and Peruvians to the front of the line for my entry stamp into Argentina.

“Everyone move back. This.Is.A.Line.You.All.Need.To.Stand.Behind.This Line.Okay?”

The border official was referring to everyone behind me as he yelled, talking down to them in an an attitude only meant for children.

I handed my passport through a window and was given a form to fill out. Writing with a pen when my hands are numb may be one of the more difficult accomplishments in my life that I have completed. The officials closed the window for the next 10 minutes as I imagine they took a much needed break to complain about their horrendous jobs. The men working here in the poor, cold, and small town of La Quiaca are in the military and for some reason were stationed here out of all places in Argentina. That assignment could make even the most positive person hate life.

Once they returned I answered a few basic questions and was led to a security checkpoint where another guard opened my bag to check for contraband. Minutes later I crossed the border from Bolivia into Argentina and experienced one of the most relieved moments in a long time.

Never again Bolivia. Never again.

There is a famous tourist attraction in Bolivia known as “The World’s Most Dangerous Road”.  The attraction is a crazy one lane wide road that lines the jungle cliffs of Bolivia with sheer drops as much as 2,000 feet.  Although no longer the main route, when it was the main road, would claim on average 200-300 lives per year. This was verified by  the Inter-America Development Bank in 1995.  If this number can believed to be accurate it would officially make this  the world’s most deadly road.

For a quick preview of the ride watch this video taken of us halfway through the ride

Click here to view the embedded video.

I started the bike ride near La Paz at the top where it was cold and crisp with snow capped peaks by the starting point.  The road is over the 50 kilometers to the end, an extreme drop in altitude revealing a lush jungle setting.

Our diverse group of 20-60 year old travelers unloaded the bikes and each of us grabbed one.

We posed for the cameras right before we began our descent.

The first half hour was full of Andean valleys such as these.

After an hour of downhill biking on paved roads we reached a drug checkpoint where we paid a fee to use the road.

The scenery started to change into more lush, green colored mountains.

And then the real action began as we reached the part that makes this road famous. While it is frightening to bike its no longer as dangerous. A new road has been built, so truck drivers do no need to drive this road. This is best for everyone because the drivers  would fight and whoever lost would have to back up. Since driving the trucks on a skinny, slippery road on a 2,000 foot cliff is this was a big deal.

Even though it’s now far safer not everyone is meant to survive. This is a stone for one traveler who died biking down the road.

With our bikes

In action

Just another memorial

Lunch

A Celebratory Drink at the end

And just like that it was over.

Sometimes when I know I won’t have internet access for a while I write down brief notes on a scrap of paper. 5 months after returning home from my last trip to South America I just pulled out one of these papers to remember what I was thinking at the time.

“La Paz cocaine gay guy house”

That is one line I wrote down. The Guardian actually an interesting article about a cocaine bar in La Paz that I visited. After drinking at the hostel bar in La Paz I found myself in a taxi with 4 other European backpackers. I thought it was kind of strange how we entered the cab and nobody said a word to the driver, even after he began driving.

We soon arrived in a suburb outside of a house. A normal looking house. When we entered we were greeted by a flamboyant gay man who owned the clandestine cocaine lounge. He led us through the house until we reached a somewhat hidden and discrete room with a full-fledged bar and sofas.

The other travelers knew the deal, as this was their second or third time. Minutes later each of the travelers snorted the white powder and we left.

The guardian describes it as,

“Down in Route 36′s main room, the scene is chilled. A half-hearted disco ball sporadically bathes the room in red and green light. Each table has candles and a stash of bottled water, plus whatever mixers one cares to add to your drink. In the corner, a pile of board games includes chess, backgammon, and Jenga, the game in which a steady hand pulls out bricks from a tower of blocks until the whole pile collapses. If it weren’t for the heads bobbing down like birds scouring the seashore for food, you would never know that huge amounts of cocaine were being casually ingested. There’s a lot of mingling from table to table. Everyone here has stories – the latest adventures from Ecuador, the best bus to Peru – and even the most wired “why-won’t-he-shut-up?” traveller is given a generous welcome before being sent back to his table, where he can repeat those stories another 10 times.”

While I did not try any, it was a unique experience but underwhelming experience.

After the three day Bolivian pampas tour I returned to Rurrenabaque the same way I came: three hour jeep ride on a muddy, unpaved road.

Watch the video for a sample of the wildlife I saw

Click here to view the embedded video.

I was ready to return to regular warm showers, restaurants, and internet after a few comfortable days living on the basics.

Rurrenabaque is a pretty town ideal for catching up on some reading. I did just for the next three days. It rained constantly during this time so the grass field runway was unsuitable for takeoffs or landings. The only way out was to wait for a clear day, take a public bus, or share a private jeep.

Other than reading, working at one of the internet cafe’s, and eating, I did take advantage of a free ferry ride around the river complements of Amazonas airline.

The views were outstanding and much different what I saw during my tour of the pampas.

After reading three books (one each day) while I waited for my flight back to La Paz, I gave up and tried another way. The public bus sold out so I managed to share a 12 hour jeep ride with a group of 2 Venezuelan backpackers, a stereotypically cute Swedish girl and her friend.  Besides the scary mud roads, a highlight of this trip was one of the Venezuelans getting caught with marijuana at a drug checkpoint. The police shortly returned him to us after a quick interrogation and a $100 bribe. That’s Bolivia!

Hundreds of alligators and caymens, pink river dolphins, turtles, monkeys, an anaconda, owls, toucans, capybara (largest rodent in the world), piranha, Stork, rufescent tiger heron, king vulture, hoatzin, blue and yellow macaw, parrot, Amazon kingfisher, greater ani, toro toucan, red crested cardinal, woodpecker - I saw all of the wildlife and more on my journey through the Bolivian jungle!

At roughly 5am I left my hostel in La Paz for the world’s highest airport in El Alto. Why? To catch an early morning 15 seat plane that would take off from the frigid Andes only to land in the dense Bolivian jungle less than an hour later. That was the plan until I was bumped from my plane because of an overbooking. I and more than 5 others were the unlucky enough to get bumped, and then lucky enough to catch the next flight out only a few hours later. Theoretically in time to start my 3 day pampas tour.

Strangely enough, this would be my second time in Rurrenabaque, Bolivia’s gateway for visits to the jungle (technically rainforest).  My first time was 5 years ago as a 17 year old on a group tour for 6 weeks in Bolivia. I knew exactly what to expect; an exciting flight in between the snow-capped Andes mountains.

Upon landing on the grass field in Rurrenabaque, I grabbed my tiny backpack and huddled out the airplanes door to be met by a representative from my tour company, Indigena Tours.

My group of 3 British, 1 Australian, and 1 Swiss had already been waiting anxiously for 2 hours. Less than 5 minutes later we drove off in a jeep for 3 hours along various unpaved and lopsided roads. After a quick and meager lunch of a tiny piece of chicken with rice, we loaded our gear into a very basic motorized canoe and took off down the Rio Yacuma for an epic jungle adventure.

It was absolutely beautiful just rolling down the river with a warm breeze and the sun shining through the trees.

Each aligator we spotted was exciting, even when we were soon told that they are about as common as mosquitoes in the jungle.

We soon spotted out first rodent, the largest in the world. It is truly an ugly creature.

Th river was fairly wide and muddy, and its banks were home to an incredible amount of flora and fauna. At one point during the first few hours we stopped by a tree and were ambushed by monkeys. According to our awesome Bolivian guide, there are 3 main types of monkeys in this area: squirrel monkeys, spider monkeys and howler monkeys.

Later on that day we settled into our remote jungle lodge complete with hammocks, cold showers, and toilets without paper. It was basic but all I could really ask for being in the jungle and all.

Later that night we took the canoe for a spin in the complete darkness. The purpose was to shine our flashlights (I did not have one) along the banks to catch the bright red reflections from the caimans’ and alligators’ eyes. Apparently once you get the hang of spotting them you literally see hundreds. But I never got the hang of it and resoted to snapping photos and then looking for red dots! I believe this is when they feed so I was careful not to get to close the side and you know, get eaten.

We spent the next morning on a short hike in search of anacondas. The best part was feeling like real life Indiana Jones the way we walked knee deep through the muddy fields trying not step on anything dangerous. The guides spotted this one just 30 minutes into our search.

As soon as the guides picked this little guy up he shat all over the place – a fascinating introduction to anacondas.

Besides the 1 anaconda we found, the actual scenery was beautiful.

Going back the same way we hiked for a bit until we reached our lodge. I relaxed the only way I know how while lunch was being prepared.

Another way to relax is by picking fights with the resident cayman like these 2 Kiwis staying at the lodge with us.

They seemed to win judging by the cayman running away.

Later that afternoon we took a ride around the pampas and settled on a spot where a quite a few pink river dolphins were circling. The presence of the dolphins meant we could safely swim around with them.  We jumped off the boat into the river only to not to have the dolphins avoid us at all costs.  I had hoped they would actually come up and touch us, but when we would get within 10 feet of them they would swim away.

On our way back to the lodge we stopped by this place to watch the sunset and play some soccer.

It was a very peaceful hour sitting with a few beers while I took in my surroundings.

and dinner I could only assume

and finally the sunset I had been waiting for.

On our last day we did one of my favorite parts of the trip. We fished for piranhas – a truly authentic jungle experience. Armed with a flimsy plastic string, hook, and raw beef I tried my best to catch some. Each of us would get a bite within 10 seconds, no exaggeration.  It takes a lot of skill to actually hook them. Apparently I had none as the only fish I could were tiny ones I was told to throw back. But I still celebrated with the other fish my group caught.

Lunch was a truly “hunter and gathering” experience.

And this cake concludes my pampas jungle tour!