From Uyuni, my trip into Bolivia took me to the mining town of Potosi. I'd caught up with one of the girls I met in Santiago again after my Salt Flats tour ended and we made our way there together. Potosi is, it has to be said, far, far nicer than Uyuni (although, that isn't exactly hard), but unless you're going to do one of the mine tours, you don't really need a lot of time there.
My dislike of small spaces and, let's call it, 'fondness' of panic attacks, meant that climbing into a tiny working mine was off my agenda, but the girl I was travelling with went and said it was fascinating. For many, its a 'must-do' whilst in Bolivia, and its not a very expensive activity either. Whilst she was doing that, I decided to take a tour of the Iglesia de San Francisco (Church of St. Francis, my Nonna will be so proud). Its the second oldest church in Latin America, and the tour, which only cost BOB$15 (£1.50), offers the most amazing views of the city from the rooftop. However, the tour is in Spanish, and as far I know, isn't available in English. Fab if, like me, Spanish is one of the few (ok, only) skills you have, mot so great if not. From Potosi, we caught a four hour bus to the city of Sucre, which apparently is the capital (if you follow me on Instagram, I will have already shared that fun fact with you- sorry for repeating myself). Sucre is beautiful, whilst I was there, the sun was shining and the days were warm, bizarre for Bolivia, but I can't say that I did a great deal. Truth be told, I used to spend the day wandering in and out of the giant fruit and veg market, 'Mercado Central', where you can get your hands on a whole haul of fresh produce for well under a tanner. Take that, Tesco.
We stayed at the perfectly pleasant 'CasArte Takubamba', a quiet hostel with friendly staff, clean bathrooms and a kitchen set half in garden... Because everyone loves a bit of Al Fresco.
I'll be honest, it was really nice to have three 'down' nights following the Salt Flats. I know that being able to travel is all about seizing every opportunity available, but its also really easy to take things to far. As someone who could honestly party without a break for at least a month solidly if given the opportunity, it was wonderful to give myself a bit of rest time before I headed to La Paz...I wouldn't fully appreciate how good it was until I was in La Paz and my life was swimming around me.
La Paz is an unbelievably amazing city; it's awesome. There's lots to do, its great to party and its a fab location for meeting other backpackers. But like most cities, it has it's dark side, and you really do have to be so much more careful here than anywhere else so far on this journey. I stayed at 'Loki' for one night and then 'Wild Rover Hostel' for about 6 nights. Both are infamous party hostel chains across Bolivia and Peru, but it 'Wild Rover' was undoubtedly the crazier of the two. There's three separate happy hours, free shots throughout the night and debauchery is generally encouraged. I felt right at home. Plus they have am extensive food menu, meaning if you didn't want to leave the hostel (and, honestly, it all came down to just how fragile you were feeling), you didn't have to.
I had lots of plans for my time in La Paz. I wanted to do Death Road, absail down a hotel with Urban Rush, see the city from one of the cable cars and browse both the Witches Market, and the market in El Alto.
It didn't go to plan.
On the Sunday that I was there, some friends from the hostel and I decided to kill two birds with one stone and take the red cable car up to the El Alto market, which only takes place on Thursdays and Sundays. The cable cars cost BOB$3 (30p), each way and offer the most stunning panoramic views of La Paz, which is basically a city in the clouds anyway. After an hour or so of worming our way around the market, we decided to head back down. The guys wanted to return to the hostel, but Catherine and I wanted to head to Witches Market. Both involved getting in taxis. The boys got in one, and Catherine and I got in the one that was flagged down, and pulled up behind it.
Essentially, there aren't uniform taxi's in Bolivia. In Sucre and Potosi, almost all of them had looked fake, but weren't. Its mot like being in London or New York, where legit taxis are very obvious, you know? There is also a type of taxi used in many South American countries called 'collectives', shared taxis that sometimes only follow a certain route, sort of like a bus, or hang about and take multiple passangers. When I first encountered them in Chile, I thought they were weird, but like most new customs you encounter when travelling, you get over it. I just want to say, that even though they're the norm out here, I still wouldn't get in one on my own and certainly not at night, but it was 2pm on a sunsay afternoon, and I was with someone.... Why would we have questioned it?
Then, the fun started. Another 'passenger' gets in, tells us he's from Ecuador and starts yapping away in Spanish and English. Then we're flagged down by a guy saying he's police. He asks the taxi driver for his papers, which the taxi driver shows him, and then he gets in the car. He starts talking, quickly and again in broken Spanish and English, demanding to see our passports (which obvz we didn't have on us, are you effing kidding me?!) and claiming that, since we were braking Bolivian law by mot having them on is, we just had to pop to office so he can see when we entered the country. Then, he starts searching through the other 'passenger's' things before demanding to search through our stuff too. I should probably add that, by this stage, we are now being driven, extremely fast, up the motorway that leads out of La Paz... but the penny still hadn't quiet dropped for me. All I knew was that I was terrified.
Before I knew what was happening, the driver had pulled over, and we were being told 'Thank you. Goodbye' (I'm not joking) as the 'Police Officer' opens the door and ushers us out onto the side of the road. Then they drove off.
Ours phones, Catherine's Kindle and some cash still with them.
Took a while to realise we'd been scammed to be honest, which just added to how horrific the whole thing made me feel. I cried on and off, for about four days and it took a least a week before I felt ok on my own again.
It all just made me feel like a bit of a failure. This trip has been my entire life since I finished university. I sacrificed the dream job, my life in Manchester and, if I'm being honest, relationships (or the possibility of relationships) to make it happen. Not to mention the fact that it's been my dream since I was at least 11. Things weren't supposed to go wrong. They were meant to be perfect. I was just beginning to feel like a capable human being, who could stand on her own two feet and be fearlessly herself again. It had been such a long journey to get back here... But in the space of a taxi ride, it had been shattered. Who was I trying to fool, right? I was rubbish at this. For 24 hours (maybe more) they stole more than my phone and £8. They'd taken my entire trip.
I know that we got lucky, it wasn't violent, there were no knives or guns or force involved. That evening, when we were back at the hostel, we cheers'd to not having been raped, because honestly, if we had cottoned on to what was happening and fought it, it could have been a possibility.
Obviously, we were just unlucky. Wrong time, wrong place and all that jazz. I have really got to learn not to take things so heavily to heart, but two days later in was thrilled to leave La Paz and head to Lake Titicaca.
Bolivia was a mixed bag, but so unbelievably beautiful I can't really say anything bad about it.
'An experience', as I believe the saying goes...
-xo
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