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OK get ready for another report of a new experience for us. Last night we took a “bus” from the small town of Uyuni, Bolivia (3,675 m, or 12,057 ft) to La Paz (the capital), Bolivia (3,660m, or 12,007 ft). What follows is such a uniquely uncomfortable story that it warranted its own post.

Our first indication this would be an interesting experience was the climb up into the bus. The first step up to the main aisle of the bus was about 3 feet off the ground. Thank God there was a sturdy handle with which to haul ourselves up, and the curb to give us a 4 inch head start. After that there were several steps, each about 18 inches above the previous. Once in our seats, our butts were about 10 feet off the ground.

It was the road and turns to get out of town that felt like we were riding in a monster truck. The roads are not paved and therefore not level, so the bus took a few violent pitches to each side when turning corners or when we encountered uneven leveling of the dirt road. If you can imagine being 10 feet off the ground being shook from side to side, you are getting close. Then there were several river crossings where the bus descended, rattled over the river rocks, then climbed back out the other side of the depression. The washboard roads however, provided a pleasant shiatsu massage effect - kind of.

Also was the noise. All drivers in South America like to honk their horns, but bus and train drivers in Bolivia are in a special category. I think they have a daily quota of horn honks they must execute. I believe the horn on last night’s bus was a two-tone air horn, capable of sound levels equivalent to those installed on freight trains in America. So you can imagine it was not an environment in which to sleep from the standpoint of silence.

We also quickly learned that the number of seats on the bus do not dictate the number of passengers. Apparently once the seats are sold out, they sell tickets for “standing room only” in the aisles. Shortly after taking our seats, a man more or less was sitting on my right shoulder (we were on the left side of the bus). This I could handle for about 20 minutes before I had to change seats with Meghan. We figured out that she could lean on me to sleep, thereby keeping her shoulder, neck and head out of foreign-ass range. True, our seats reclined, but the passengers immediately behind us didn’t seem to mind getting off the bus at every stop (about every 45 minutes to an hour) and banging our seatbacks forward in the process. And before this trip I thought it was hard to sleep in coach class airline seats!

Also, a cloud of dust penetrated the bus while we were hurtling down the dirt road. It was interesting to turn your head and look towards the back of the bus and not be able to actually see the passengers in the back row because of the dust. Luckily it was organic dust and not full of artificial flavors or sweeteners.

When we finally got to Oruro (a main town on the way), most everyone got off the bus so Meghan and I smiled to each other, thinking we will finally get some sleep, so we dozed off happily. A few minutes later the bus driver hollered at us (in Spanish of course) that if we are going to La Paz we better change buses! This had not been communicated to us prior to this moment.

They grabbed our big backpacks for us, which had been stored in the luggage compartment underneath the bus and hence were now completely covered in dust. They then handed us tickets to ride the new bus on the other side of the bus terminal. We sprinted through to the other side, but were stopped by a woman demanding a departure tax of 1.50 Bolivianos each. Luckily the pocket change I had covered this for both of us because I bet she didn’t want to break a 10. Gave our luggage to the bus company employee (who had climbed inside the 2nd bus luggage compartment) and barely got on board before the bus started to drive off, with the guy still in the luggage compartment. Other backpackers were running after the bus, throwing their packs in the compartment while the bus was moving. It finally stopped to let 3 more people on.

This 2nd bus was not a monster truck but rather the type we were used to in Brazil and Argentina - more plush, and since we were now on asphalt, much less dust! We finally dozed off to sleep at about 3:30 AM. This was great until I felt a tap at about 5 AM and a guy was standing over me demanding our tickets. Took care of that and went back to sleep. The next time I awoke it was due to an elbow being forcefully shoved into my side (I was sitting in the aisle seat on right side of the 2nd bus). Apparently the man trying to make his way down the aisle was not experienced in walking on a moving bus and luckily my left kidney was there to break his fall. That hurt enough to produce a howl I was unable to stifle. I don’t remember him saying sorry, but it could have been because he spoke Quechua and no Spanish.

We got to La Paz around 7 this morning, went to a hotel and got a few hours of much needed sleep.