The bus ride from Salta to La Quiaca was around 8 hours. For a sleepy person like me of course could sleep very well on the bus. After a while, my attention was drawn by the beautiful countryside scenery. Overlooking the mountain range on the far side, I could barely see different colors of the mountain, was that the legendary Hill of 7 colors?
When I got on the bus, I met the Australian guy who stayed in the same hostel with me in Salta. He was so weird that he often played the MP3 so loudly in the kitchen, and he had a knack for talking with himself while cooking, also did often interrupt into others' conversation. Therefore, I just avoided talking with him back in Salta. Couldn't believe we would have the same routine to go to Bolivia!!!
My first impression of La Quiaca was the sands and the dusts on the street. Though it was at 3400m high, I did not feel uncomfortable because of the altitude. After getting off the bus, I shared a cab with a guy named Andrew to get to the Frontier. He is from Ireland and a traveler who will go home when he spends all his money.
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| Strange looking houses |
The Frontier of La Quiaca looked small and shabby, many Bolivian (especially women with many big bags) could go in and out very freely, it was so different from those customs we saw in the airport. Then Andrew and I lined up in the Argentinian immigration and the Australian weirdo followed behind us. That weirdo could not shut his mouth up, I felt kinda awkward when Andrew did not give a shit to him and I did not want to talk with him either. The worst part was the Argentinian immigration was so inefficient, that the line did not move a bit in half an hour. Nevertheless, we needed to catch the bus to Tupiza, that's why all travelers were very worried. Without noticing, that weirdo cut the line and stood in front of us. God, I never knew western people had this bad habit too. After a long while, I finally got the Salida stamp on my passport and was ready to get to the Bolivian border.
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| Hill of 7 Colors? |
Before going on this trip, I had read a lot of articles/blogs regarding the Bolivian visa issue. I had already given in to use my HKSAR passport, and I even spent a lot of dough to renew my good old British passport (BNO.) The Bolivian border was just on the other side of the bridge. In fact people could go in without anyone's notice. But I did not do in this way, instead giving a shot by using my BNO.
When we entered inside the Bolivian immigration, there were many people waiting. The police ( aka Annoying Police) asked all backpackers to show our passports. He checked whether we had the Salida stamp from Argentina. When he checked my BNO and found nothing, he asked why I did not have one (I was so stupid again to use my HKSAR passport when I first arrived at Santiago airport). I continued to act like I did not understand a single Spanish word and did not know what he wanted. At that moment, I whispered to Andrew that I couldn't let them see my HKSAR passport, otherwise it would be a big trouble. However, that weirdo ruined my whole plan. He unceasingly asked me to take my other passport out and voluntarily told the Annoying Police in Spanish that I had another passport. What the hell was he thinking? Then he nonstop said that I should listen to the police, otherwise I could not cross the border. Of course I could not cross the border because of you, idiot!
That Annoying Police insisted to check my HKSAR passport and I could only listen to him. He brought me to see the Bolivian immigration officer and kept my passports for almost half hour. In the end, they said I needed to get a Salida stamp from Argentina. In order not to waste Andrew's time, I asked them to leave without me. For that weirdo, if I didn't have that much weight on me, I would have already punched him in the face!
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| Small village |
I immediately ran back to the Argentinian border with my BNO, but the officer nonstop asked where my Salida stamp was. At that time, I could only implement my ultimate plan: Beg him! He shook his head while giving the BNO back to me. But I did not care and insisted pushing back the BNO to him and said: Por favor! Por favor! That guy then asked me where I would go in Argentina, and I said Salta by random. Then my hard work did pay off, he finally chop that stamp on my BNO. I sped to the other side once I got the stamp and I had to line up all over again.
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| Desert |
After a long while of lining up, I finally got the Salida stamp on my BNO. That Annoying Police stopped me and kept hold of my passport once again. This time, they even made the phone call to the La Paz office. I was so shocked, as I knew La Paz could find out that was a BNO but not a BN, which had no authority to get into Bolivia. But it was too hard for us to understand each other with our language barriers. Luckily, a Bolivian lady who could speak fluent English interpreted to me that I should go back to the Bolivian Consulate in La Quiaca to get a certain pass. Afterwards, I ran back to the good old Argentinian border again. The same Argentinian officer let me in without a chop since I told him I was going to the consulate. I guessed he thought I was messing around the borders.
When I got to the consulate, the office hours were passed already. Meaning I had to be stuck in Argentina for one more day again. Especially in this remote and deserted town, it made me feel extra pathetic. From Lonely Planet's recommendation, I chose to stay in Hotel de Turismo for the night. It was so expensive and cost around US$30, but then this 30 bucks really needed to be spent. After putting down the heavy backpacks, I ran to the bus station to check the time and the price at once. In addition, the passport issue remained still uncertain, I must have a backup plan.
Plan A: Tomorrow I would go to the consulate at 10 in the morning if I got the pass successfully, I would fly to the Bolivan border at once.
Plan B: If I failed tomorrow, I would take the 11am bus back to Salta, and then would take the night bus to San Pedro de Atacama.
What a hectic day, that's why I don't feel well sleeping at night with the high altitude.
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