The Road To Bolivia

Today we are off to Bolivia. The overnight bus leaves at 10 in the evening and we have to change in a small town called Puno, at 5 in the morning. The bus is supposed to be a semi- cama, which basically means it should be a bit better than the normal buses, with TV, reclining seats, more leg-room and a toilet on board. Yeah right. We are seated downstairs. Next to the toilet. It stinks of shit. The windows open about a 1/16 of an inch. I feel rather bilious and Ad goes a delightful shade of green.

The bus pulls off and the conductor type person closes a door between us and the loo. The stench begins to abate. Unfortunately due to being nigh on hermetically sealed in a tin can with 30 other people, heating on full blast, with no air conditioning or windows that open properly the heat accumulating inside is absolutely stifling. We are supposed to be able to sleep on these buses... I can hardly breathe. For seven hours I'm gasping for oxygen, stripped down to my underpants surounded by 30 snoring, farting, belching, sweaty travellers that are breathing my air!! To top it all I'm dying for a pee and a pooh but there is no way I'm going to submit myself to the nauseating stench of that toilet. I'm now just hoping I can hold on and don't shit myself... that would really top it all!!!

Seven hours later we arrive in Puno. Buttocks clenched we disembark. I am so full of gas you could tie a piece of string round my leg and float me like a Zeppelin. As the bags are being unloaded I surreptitiously wander 20 yards away and let the voluminous accumulation rip forth. I over hear a fellow passenger make comment that he can hear the a Salvation Army band approaching; I kid you not its not easy farting to the tune of Onward Christian Soldiers.

Slightly relieved that I haven't actually shit myself but still desperately needing the loo, I go and find Ad, who is also in need of bowel evacuation. We enter the bus terminal and charge for the toilet. Unfortunately the plumbing systems in the Andean countries leave a lot to be desired; the pipe work can just about cope with a normal size pooh and you are not allowed to put toilet paper down the bowl, one places it in a bucket next to the loo. When we get to the public toilet there is a massive queue and only two loos working. Ad enters the first cubicle only to make a quick exit; apparently the previous user had left an enormous present behind and the flush wasn't working - there is a second bucket which one is supposed to fill with water in order to use for flushing purposes. This on top of the fact that none of the cubicles had locks and the possibility of vomiting all over the floor due to the malodorous perfume, made the thought of going just a tad concerning. We made a quick exit in search of another toilet. There was none. On the second floor of the terminal was a sort of hotel renting out rooms within the terminal. We balked a little at the price but when one has to go one doesn't mind what you pay. So we rented a room that cost 35 Soles (7pound) just so that we could relieve ourselves. It's the most expensive shit I have ever had but the relief was immense and worth every penny.


Puno is on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca, one of the highest lakes in the world, and as the sun rises we get our first glimpse of this massive expanse of water. As we arrived just beyond the terminal there is a massive party going on due to it being Puno's birthday. All the towns people seem to be in attendance and seeing as its early morning appear a little worse for wear. Ad and I take a little wander down to the waters edge being careful not to trip over the sprawled drunken bodies that are littered everywhere. The Lake is beautiful and stretches further than the eye can see.

We catch our connecting bus at 7am that will take us directly through to Bolivia and the little hamlet of Copacabaña. We are a bit concerned about entering Bolivia, especially as there has been a lot of political unrest in recent months which culminated in rioting and some deaths. President Evo Morales has been seeking to bring in a new constitution which is envisaged will help in the redistribution of wealth. Obviously those with the money are not too keen on this idea. Bolivia is the poorest country in South America.

The journey continued around the Lake to the border. The bus company were really helpful, issuing the document that we needed to complete for exiting Peru and entering Bolivia. All goes smoothly for us and the Bolivian officials are courteous if a little stern. There is a big picture of El Presidente, one of my present day heroes, hanging in the customs office and I have a tinge of excitement that we are now in a democratically elected socialist-leaning governed country. I like Bolivia already.