17/02/2012 That fucking smell!

I know a lot of the time I write about are the horrible bus journeys taken around south America, this is because I often begin writing whilst on the bus. While I often exaggerate the experiences telling you it is unbearable whether it is bumpy, windy roads, smells and people - what I am experiencing now isn't the worst journey but by far the worst smelling.
Let me set the scene, I'm sitting beside the window that can't be opened, beside a woman who's 4 year old has certainly shat herself with 2 teenage boys behind me kicking my seat clearly without their shoes because I could find them with sense of smell alone and someone has vomited at the front of the bus.
There is another hour on this bus journey and all I want some unspoiled air, I'd even make do with the carbon monoxide filled air of the capital city of Bolivia, at least that doesn't make me gag in my seat. One more fucking hour! any longer ill be joining that fella at the front of the bus. But this is Bolivia and bus journeys are never close to their scheduled arrival times and to think I paid extra for this bus sporting windows that doesnt open; I could not be more uncomfortable right now - this is my best description of the smell:
"a sour body odor infused rotting carcass stench with a whiff of damp soiled diaper a pair of infinitely used weathered boots filled with rotting dead skin unrecognizable due to fungus and mold topped off with whatever is the foulest stench you have ever come across in your life".
Arrrgg!

15/02/2012 - 16/02/2012

Time in Cochabamba
I went to Cochabamba to see Michele who was making her way south as I was headed north.
I arrived in the early hours of the morning and wondered around the city looking for accommodation, finding a few places but all but one was in my price bracket I was willin to pay for a hostel in Bolivia.
Browsing through the lonely planet guidebook of bolivia that I have stored on my laptop I found really nothing to do in and around his city. It really seems like I won't be staying for long.
Even walking around the city it certainly wasn't the prettiest either but the weather was contributing to the lack of beauty to the town and having to avoid the splashing of water (well, mud in most cases) on the sidewalk when passing vehicles dropped into the puddles on the roads, turned walking around town a bit of an annoyance.
Michele arrived later in the afternoon although running late because of her bus running out of fuel we wandered towards the more touristy area of the city to grab dinner, it seems that all the locals eat here is chicken, rice and fries - really not a bad meal but eating this each and everyday would sicken me all too quickly and I suppose this is all the locals eat because all the restaurants seemed to offer this and only this.
However michele and I did find a nice dim lit restaurant that catered to people who are off put from chicken and rice for a reasonable price. We actually returned there for another meal the following day.
With not much to do around town Michele and i spent a lot of time watching films and Top Gear, a television series I'm obsessed with.
One thing to mention was that we did see the big christ statue looming over the city that apparently is 2 cm taller than the one in Rio, making it better but unfortunately does not mean that Cochabamba is in anyway more exciting than Rio - although I have never been, I just have a feeling.
The time spent with Michele was great, clean and fun banter and a lot of laughs, she wanted to join me back to la Paz, something I had no issues with but she would only be headed that way because of me and my company. Well what can I say ;). It would have been silly for her to do so as she would be backtracking so after two days spent with her I left back to La Paz.

14/02/2012

The three irish girls I met last night Left this morning so joined them to the bus terminal to book my bus to Cochabamba. It's always much cheaper to do it this way than to book through an agency or hostel. This meant I had the whole day to kill in town, it would have been nice to sleep before the journey as I know it is going to be god awful with bumpy roads but the hostel wouldn't let me nap in a bed for a reduced price I was willing to pay, instead I bought some sleeping pills at the pharmacy down the road.
Three British girls from Birmingham checked into the hostel when I was checking out; it was fairly obvious that they were new to backpacking south America as they complained about a little bit of hair in the shower; aren't they in for a treat, this hostel is one of the cleanest ones I have stayed in. All of the girls did not speak a word of Spanish and they had that amazing attribute where when someone didn't understand English they would just shout louder. Errggg.
they backpacked with a metal mesh protecting their bags and one of them had forgotten her padlock code, asking the receptionist brutally for a bolt cutter I was here to save to day using the broken Spanish I know and the skill of cracking the code of her lock, it took a mere 30 seconds to open it and after I had to assure the girl I don't rob people for a living.
I returned to the woman at the market selling the delicious curry i had for lunch a couple of days ago and picked up some munchies for the bus trip.
I've been thinking a lot about what I'm going to say to Chantal when I see her in Montreal in 3 weeks, she really hurt me by sleeping with her ex and getting back together with him. I had changed all my plans of traveling around south America to return to Canada to see her in hopes to continue things work where we left off. I had plans to take her out to a cabin outside trois riviers that a friend of mine runs but unfortunately nothing can happen now, I only mention this because it is valentines day and I do truly miss her but all I can do is try and forget about her.
Happy fucking valentines day! - as I write this on the bus on my way to Cochabamba sitting next to a Bolivian guy with bad B.O, oh how fun!

13/02/2012

I changed hostels today hoping to get into amigos but the guys running the place took 25 minutes just to tell me that there were no more dorm beds, rude pricks too, in glad I didn't stay there, instead I went down the road to another hostel hat was friendlier and cleaner, it was 10 bolivianos more than where I spent the last two nights and to share a dorm room but I prefer hostels than hotels for the social scene.
As soon as I arrived I met 3 irish girls - Sarah, Eva and Maria who, after chatting to them for a while were a good laugh. I went out with these girls and a very interesting American guy (dave) for dinner (pizza again) where Dave was generous enough to pay for all our meals. Chatting in the courtyard playing Shithead and drinking Dave's red label johnny walker, it was a chilled night I've been wanting. Thanks Dave for your generosity!

12/02/2012

With a little bit of a hangover I joined Simon and Jen to the Sunday market in a village 70 km from sucre. The journey there was cramped in a small minivan but was manageable where we also met a German couple heading the same way.
The market wasnt all that impressive with most stalls selling the same items as the stall next door, I wasn't really on the look out for anything other than a new pair of sunglasses but couldn't find any anywhere but I did end up leaving with a pair of flip flops made from old car tires, I was surprised on how cheap they were at $2 and im hoping they should last a life time.
We hung around the small town for a little while eating the local food at the eateries before heading back to sucre in a local bus, like before it was cramped but I had the added benefit of a local man sleeping on my shoulder.
The evening was entertaining starting things off with pizza and whiskey cokes that I smuggled into the family restaurant.
A few more of these 10 boliviano bottles of whiskey and I was pretty hammered even before midnight where i passed out in my foul smelling hotel room. I tried pacing myself but playing drinking games at the hostel up the road scraped that idea.

11/02/2012

Feeling much better than yesterday I left Potosi to Sucre, an apparent 70 km journey according to my gps but taking 4 hours on windy roads
*Gap today, forgot what happened – perhaps I drank too much

10/02/2012 - 8,000,000 Deaths +1?

Yesterday Mitch and I organized to go on the mine tour; we had to make it down to the tour office by 9:00 where we were thrown on a bus with a bunch of others, two of which I had met before. Both older French woman one I met more recently on the Huayna potosi trek and the other in guatemala over a year ago. Myself and the bus load of people went to put on gear needed of the tour, this included headlamps, helmets, boots and overalls - all things that were necessary as the mine was dark, dusty, small and muddy.
Before entering the mine we were asked to purchase gifts for the miners we all had to buy something cheap like juice, cigarettes and coca leaves but one thing that interested in was that you could buy dynamite and at $2 a pop with the fuse a bargain too; unfortunately I didn't buy any - probably for the best.
The mine tour was held in a working mine with miners struggling to push trolleys filled with tonnes rock being rushed about on the broken tracks that ran throughout the mine.
Many times we had to find some open space on the walls to avoid being run down.
Whilst in the mines the workers worship and make offerings to a devil god named Tio who protects the workers from injury and death while in the mine but only while inside, outside the people revert to God and Jesus.
Deeper into the catacombs of the mine it got hot, almost unbearably hot and with more levels beneath you can understand why so many people die in this mine, whether it is the dust, heat, danger or other factors. still an estimated 8 million people have died in this mountain, no wonder why it is known as the mountain that eats you alive.
With a bad neck from always bending over and constantly bashin my head against the ceiling I was glad when I saw the light at the end of the tunnel.
It was a good tour but also exhausting, returning to the hotel I decided to stay another night to catch up on sleep telling Bo and Mitch I'd see them in Sucre the following day, also as it was Bo's birthday I thought I'd give the couple some time alone.
Btw, I still haven't had a good Bolivian meal - in so sick of soggy fries with rice. Why would anyone want to do cooking lessons here?