A Bumpy Road part 3: Tarija

Next stop in my travels was Tarija. This is the wine producing area and supposed to be one of the most beautiful parts of Bolivia. It’s a short plane ride away from La Paz; unfortunately I was going by 16 hour bus ride.

Again I trekked off to the bus station, hopped on the bus and off I went, up through the freezing Altiplano area at night and as dawn broke we were driving through desert filled with cacti, jagged cliffs and low brush. This was the Bolivian desert.

Again Bolivian infrastructure started to get the best of me as we wound through the hills on dirt roads and crossed rivers with no bridges. I have to say I’m glad I didn’t go a few months later during the rainy season when those rivers are much higher.

Along the way we passed little clusters of houses surrounding churches or pasture. There was even a rooster waiting to cross the road. Each town bore the mark of the elections that had taken place earlier this year. Every wall was painted with political slogans and poles were plastered with flyers baring the faces of the candidates. There were no plastic signs with wire frames in sight. I wonder if these signs will be there until the next election when they will paint over them. I guess it saves the building owner paying to have someone paint it.

I finally arrived in Tarija, stiff and a little tired and then woke up very quickly when I realized that my backpack was not on the bus. Yes, it had been stolen. So the time I had hoped to have in Tarija turned into a tour of the local police station (FELCC) while I made a report on what was in the back pack (my laptop and my trip diary which had all my photos and memories; yes I cried). I think the police officer felt sorry for me because he gave me a ride back to the bus station.

So what do you do when you only have the clothes on your back and money to get home? You buy wine and Singani from the bus station and wait (yes I bought a tooth brush and tooth paste too Mom). People watching at a bus station can be fun, there’s the ice cream seller who won’t stop honking her annoying horn, the kid who won’t stop crying (I completely understood his point of view), and the ticket sellers who walk around every two minutes yelling out destinations and giving you a headache.

Unfortunately I didn’t get to do what I wanted in Tarija nor did I get to see the best parts of the area but I did finally make it back to La Paz, a little wiser and a little more jaded.