I woke up in the surprisingly comfy hotel bed and stood right up. The curtains were already pulled open and I took the two short steps needed to reach the window and look out over the town plaza that was located right beneath me. This was my first morning in the 30th country of this journey.
I was in Bolivia.
After four full months of rambling around Argentina and Chile I was incredibly excited to start off this brand new chapter, and all senses were on full alert. Anyone who’s travelled like this know what it’s like. How taking one step across another of those made up borders can make any- and everything seem a million times more intriguing in a heartbeat. All of a sudden we not only look, but we look for things see. We listen. Taste. And acknowledge even the most subtle change of smells when turning a street corner.
All my attention while wandering the streets this first day in Bolivia was the devoted to amazing ladies reigning the town of Villazon. Best hats. Best braids. And very likely the best ‘f*ck you’ attitude on Earth. While their wrinkled up faces are the sweetest ever, the poise they radiate make things incredibly clear. These women have lived.
And they are not to be messed with.
Equally intimidated and intrigued I was roaming town trying to strike up conversation with these rock stars. I was mostly failing miserably, but receiving the occasional smile or short toothless laughter totally made the game one worth playing.
And taking comfort in the fact that border towns all over the world (for whatever reason) have this rough, and raw atmosphere in common – I wasn’t giving too much meaning to the occasional ‘please die’-glares being tossed in my direction that day.
Zzz.. Sales lady of the day!
I was in Bolivia. I was feeling great. And early next morning, it was time to get going.
Pretty – & a pretty puncture prone camp spot
First days of riding Bolivia were great. An empty, winding and incredibly dramatic mountain road took me through Cordillera de Sama towards the town of Tarija. Up and down big passes I was rewarded with stunning views, and occasionally left in a big ball of dust as a truck or bus made it’s way passed me on the tiny road we all shared.
Never know when a bus is coming full charge behind the corner
Passing small a few microscopic to tiny towns along the way, I got my first interactions with ‘true’ Bolivia. One which made me feel good all the way to the core. Yes – the ladies (still all I had eyes for) were just as sweet on the outside. Now with the difference that they were also nothing but liquid gold on the inside.
Fruit vendors refusing to accept money for the fruit and nuts they ‘sold’ me
Bolivia. Bolivia. Bolivia.
I had longed for this place for a million years. Since way before this journey was even thought of. Not because of epic nature. Not because of sweet ladies rocking braids to their calves and hats to the sky.
But because of something – or someone – else entirely.
And reaching this exact view, marking the beginning of that perfectly paved descent all the way into Tarija, I was no more but one last – massive – downhill away.
Until next time,
Fredrika