We arrived back from the Inca Trail full of joy and happiness. Sure, there had been a bit of unpleasantness when the topic of tips came up (an expectation vs reward issue), but we were on a high.
Before going on the Inca Trail, we'd bought our bus tickets to Bolivia. We were (easily) persuaded to go for a little luxury. Fully reclining seats and loads of legroom for a few extra Soles, the seemingly lovely Peruvian lady at Nuevo Continental/ CIAL bus company told us.
A week later. we turned up at the bus terminal a week later as required. We waited. The 10pm “standard” service left. We waited for our 10:20pm luxury service to be called.
At 10:10pm, we were herded into a taxi by the CIAL lady's' colleague. Our bus was apparently now leaving from another terminal. I smelled a rat, but kept my cool.
The scam became clear about 30 mins later. After being taken to the edge of town, our taxi driver flagged down the first bus that came our way. We were unceremoniously dumped on board. No fully reclining seats. No luxury service. To add insult to injury, it was the 10pm standard service we had been talked out of paying less for.
Wow. Peruvian company in blatant lies shocker (Once again; CIAL/ Neuvo Continental – take heed dear readers). Who would have thought.
I mention this story to give you some context as to how we could have been so happy to find ourselves in the capital city of Bolivia,
Now in Sydney (or most other cities for that matter), you tend to pay more for a view. Not so in
Possibly as a result of the bowl it sits in, the city is very polluted, fueled in no small way by the hordes of smoke-belching buses and minivans that race up and down the tiny, colonial streets. Crossing the road is an exercise in split-second timing.
Within the space of 9 days in Bolivia's finest, we'd seen the best her nightlife has to offer. We ate great meals at great restaurants. We checked out the weird and weirder still at the Witches Market (Llama foetus anyone?). I played futsal against the hostel's security guards team at altitude (which, for the record, hurts like hell). And then, on the Friday, we rode the World's Most Dangerous Road.
I won't go into the details of what the World's Most Dangerous Road is exactly – I'll leave that to the very capable people at B-Side, with whom we rode. I'll simply say this. The experience of racing downhill for 63km on that road, on the back of a $2,500 mountain bike, is awesome. Do it.
I'd recommend
Upon going to the bus station to buy our ticket to head south, we asked the lady behind the counter about the bus we'd be traveling on. Her response?
“It's comfortable enough, but the toilets won't work. They never work”
And you know what? Once the truth be told, we didn't really mind.
La Paz photos can be sampled here
1 comment:
that bike ride sound's insane Stu! Look forward to hearing more about it when you're back, as I'm sure Dan is as well ;) Anth.
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