Bolivia

Touring the world’s largest salt flats

We travelled by overnight bus from La Paz to Uyuni where we would start our 3 day, 2 night tour of the world’s largest salt flat.  We arranged to travel on the most expensive bus (Todo Turismo: $33 US each) because we wanted to be as comfortable and safe as possible.  It was money well spent; the bus was spacious, the amenities were good (dinner, breakfast, blankets and pillows provided), and the driver got us to our destination safely.

When I had read that Bolivia’s road system was 95% unpaved, I thought this might be an exaggeration, but after travelling through Bolivia, I can vouch for the accuracy of that statistic.  After 3 hours on a paved road, between La Paz and Ororo, the remaining 9 hours were spent on very bumpy, dirt roads that were washed out in many places because of recent rain; it is the rainy season afterall.  We didn’t sleep too much because the bus lurched from side to side as the bus driver manoeuvred around the impassable sections. Often the bus came to a complete stop and we could imagine the driver contemplating which way to go. Sometimes he even got out of the bus to assess the dire situation in front of him.  There were times when I popped my head out of the window and I was horrified at the sight ahead – nothing but water and mud. But somehow, we got to Uyuni safe and sound.

Before I tell you about the tour, I must say a few words about the process of selecting a tour.  We arrived in Uyuni without any reservations which by now, you must realize, is nothing new for us.  We had done lots of research in advance and had a short list of tour operators (based on online reviews) we planned to visit to see what they could offer us.  There are plenty of bad reviews on the internet (Trip Advisor in particular), some are down right appalling.  So we wanted to be careful about the tour we selected.  It seemed the biggest grievance people had was the number of passengers in a car.  Most tour operators tried to squeeze 6 passengers in a Land Cruiser, plus the driver and cook in the front seats. The other common grievance was the quality of vehicle.  Breakdowns and flat tires were commonplace.

When we found a tour operator offering a tour with just two other passengers (for a premium of course) we jumped on it.  When probed for information about the truck, we were given vague answers such as: our trucks are not new, but they are in very good mechanical condition. The lady in the office would not commit to any more detail than that. We signed up for the tour through Tonito Tours and crossed our fingers that all would go well.

Day 1

On Wednesday morning, we went to the designated meeting place only to wait for over an hour for our truck to show up (the delay was caused by an apparent gas shortage, or so we were told).  We had the chance to meet the other couple we would be travelling with: James, a Brit currently living in Italy, and Donatella, his girlfriend who was Italian.

As the truck pulled up, I had a sinking feeling.  It was old. Really old.  A 1996 Toyota Land Cruiser to be exact.  It was quickly apparent this vehicle had seen better days – one passenger window did not work, the windshield wipers did not work. Who knows what else was wrong under the hood – we would find out soon enough.

First stop on the tour was the “Train Cemetery”, one of the major tourist attractions of the area.  In the past, the town of Uyuni was a distribution hub for trains carrying minerals on their way to the Pacific Ocean ports.  The train lines were built by British engineers who arrived near the end of the 19th century and formed a sizeable community in Uyuni.  Rail construction began in 1888 and ended in 1892. The trains were mostly used by mining companies so when the mining industry collapsed in the 1940’s (partly due to mineral depletion), many of the trains were abandoned, resulting in the train cemetery.

We made a few stops on the way to the salt flats, for instance, to visit artisan stalls – like we haven’t seen enough artisan stuff for sale!  It was interesting to see some of the art they made from the salt.  It reminded me of what we do with ice and snow in Canada.

Salt Art at one of the artisan stalls.
They even have salt hotels where everything is made of salt.

When we reached the salt flats, we were in awe of their magnitude.  Salar de Uyuni is the world’s largest salt flat at 10,582 square kilometers (4,086 sq mi). It is located in southwest Bolivia, near the crest of the Andes, and is elevated 3,656 meters (11,995 ft) above sea level. The Salar was formed as a result of transformations between several prehistoric lakes. It is covered by a few meters of salt crust, which has an extraordinary flatness with the average altitude variations within one meter over the entire area of the Salar. The crust serves as a source of salt and covers a pool of brine, which is exceptionally rich in lithium. It contains 50 to 70% of the world’s lithium reserves, which is in the process of being extracted. The large area, clear skies and exceptional surface flatness make the Salar an ideal object for calibrating the altimeters of the Earth observation satellites.

Walking on the salt flats was surreal; it was difficult to ascertain where the land ended and the sky began as it all blurred together on the horizon.  It was very much like walking on a frozen lake; the texture, the crunch under your feet and of course the color all looked like snow and ice.  As we drove further, we travelled through inches of water that covered the salt giving the appearance that we were driving on a lake.  Without functioning wipers, our wind shield became so salt encrusted that it was impossible to see through.  Walter tossed water onto the wind shield now and then to try to gain some visibility.

Goofing off – does Chris have bionic legs?

Our flag has seen better days.

Driving along the salt flats.

Dry salt flats.

Salt flats under a few inches of water.

One of the other dozen or so trucks that were doing the same tour as us.  We saw these trucks at every stop over the next three days.

We stopped for lunch and a hike on Fish Island (so named because of its shape); this island would have been more aptly named Cactus Island in my opinion as the island was home to hundreds of huge cactii, some older than 1,000 years.

Walter checked out the truck whenever he had a chance.
So far, so good.

Cactus on Fish Island

Donatella and James checking out the island.

Giant cactus!

Salt along the edge of the island.

View from the top of the island, watching more trucks arrive.

Apart from the few stops we made, much of the day was spent travelling in the Land Cruiser over the salt flat. To my surprise the truck held up quite well. No breakdowns or flat tires. We rolled into Bellavista around 6:30 where we would be spending the night.  On our arrival, we were greeted by a woman who announced there was no water whatsoever. No showers.  No running toilets. No sinks.  With this news, we got a glimpse of Donatela’s fiesty Italian heritage as she adamantly refused to spend the night in a place without water. There was a lot of discussion between her and James in Italian, and then between James and Walter our driver, and then, the next thing we knew, we were packing up the truck again and heading out on the road towards San Juan, just as the sun was setting, a 45-minute car ride away.  Chris and I would have stayed at Bellavista; we didn’t even find it all that bad and figured we could survive one night without water.  I was feeling a little concerned for our driver, Walter, who was not a young man (I estimated he was close to 70).  He had been driving all day; he must be tired, and now he had to drive another hour in the dark along the worst roads we have ever been on.

As the sun set, the temperature dropped significantly.  Guess what – no heat in the car!  About fifteen minutes outside of Bellavista, in pitch darkness and freezing temperatures, the truck broke down.  I jokingly said:  Bellavista isn’t looking so bad now, is it?  Chris thought that was hilarious, but both James and Donatella did not see the humour in it. They were upset.  More than upset.  They were angry.  The italian words began flying again.  Walter asked if anyone had a flashlight – we were the only ones who did (thank goodness).  Chris and I got out of the truck and waited outside as Walter tinkered under the hood.  It took him about 45 minutes; during that time, Chris and I were considering the options.  We could walk back to Bellavista or spend the night in the truck.  To my astonishment, Walter got the truck working again.  And we were off.

As we bumped along the road at the furious pace of 35-40 km/hr, we slowed down as we passed each road sign where Walter had the cook read out the places on the sign; we were comforted to see San Juan each time……until we reached a sign that did not have San Juan.  Walter was incredulous – he asked the cook several times – No San Juan?  No San Juan?  No, we took a wrong turn and now we were lost.  In the middle of freaking nowhere.  In the freezing cold.  By now, James and Donatella were silent, which I think was worse that the noisy exchanges between them – they were just fuming in silence.

At 11:00 pm, we rolled into San Juan which seemed to be a rather sizeable town, and into the yard of our hostel.  The entire town was pitch black, as was our hostel.  There was nobody there. I kid you not, this place looked like a prison or a concentration camp. A row of tiny cement block rooms with two cots in each, bare light bulb in the middle of each room, with shared, so-called bathroom facilities at the end of the hall. Bellavista was looking like the Hilton at this point, an observation I chose not to share with Donatella. She was visibly upset and I actually felt sorry for her. She had never done this type of travel before and I could just imagine the culture shock she was experiencing. She was a city girl from Milan for goodness sakes. We were all dead tired but now the cook insisted on making us dinner although nobody really wanted to eat, and Walter continued to work on the truck late into the night. It was after midnight before we hit the sack. Our cots felt quite comfortable, and we slept like babies throughout the silent night.

A new low in accommodations. But we had running water!

Our truck at the end of Day 1 – will it make it to the end?

Day 2

I always say that things look better in the morning…..well in this case, in the brightness of daylight, the so-called bathroom looked far worse. Regardless, Chris and I had a quick shower, and surprisingly, the water was hot and the pressure was good. It was one of our best showers thus far in South America, as long as you ignored the filth and decay around you. James and Donatella broke down and used the bathroom facilities, even having a quick shower together. Breakfast was comparable to any breakfast served in prison (or at least what I imagine you would get if you were in prison – but come to think of eat, prisoners probably eat much better).  We had dry buns with margarine and jam and tea.  A bowl of scrambled eggs was on the table when we sat down but the eggs smelt so vile, no-one but James dared to try them.

Walter had washed the car sometime between midnight and 6:00 am.  He’s on top, loading it up as we get ready to start Day 2.
Accommodations are in the background.

We were on the road again by 8:00. The day was spent travelling along the bumpy, dusty roads through the desert of southern Bolivia, admiring tiny lakes of different colours, all home to hundreds of flamingoes.

The scenery was magnificent, and the sight of large flocks of flamingoes made us think of the measly five flamingoes that we saw on the Galapagos Islands.

We passed by many strange rock formations, including the Arbol de Piedra, a rock that is in the shape of a tree.

We also saw heards of llamas and vicunas, an animal that resembles a small llama.

At one point we stopped to take pictures of a rock formation where we also saw the vizcacha, a small desert animal that resembles a rabbit.

Little did we know that Walter would take this opportunity to do a rear brake job on the truck.  That’s right.  Before we knew it, the back wheel was off and the brakes were dismantled on the desert sand.  We didn’t even know we had a brake problem.  Chris and I climbed the rocks for a while and then wandered out into the desert and did a goofy video. There wasn’t much else to do as we waited for Walter to put the truck back together again.

Not looking too good.

Watching the other trucks come and go as we wait 
for our truck to be repaired. 

Walking in the desert alone – it was windy, cold and oh, so peaceful.

We stopped for our second night at the edge of Laguna Colorado.  I always say that things are relative, and they can always be worse.  And sure enough, conditions on that second night, far surpassed the deplorable conditions of the first.   There were many people staying here, and everybody had to double up in the available rooms. So the four of us picked our beds in our dormitory style room.  We offered the double bed to James and Donatella and they didn’t refuse.  Oh, did I mention there was no running water.  And we were filthy, covered in dust from head to toe.  Donatella wanted to leave right away and go back to Uyuni, she didn’t care what it cost.  Unfortunately, we were 8 hours from Uyuni and there  was no transportation available that night.  She had to just suck it up and deal with it, something she didn’t accept very graciously.

I haven’t mentioned anything about the food.  Things started off quite well, with a delicious pasta and chicken lunch on the first day.  Even then, my stomach was a little off after that meal.  Soon it became apparent to me that our cook was carrying our three day food supply in her cooler – with no ice – including meat.  Even after three months in South America, my stomach is not made of iron.  After each meal, my digestive issues became worse until I was eating the barest amount necessary to stave off my hunger pains.

We survived our second night – James and Donatella slept in their clothes, ready to get the hell out of this hell hole at the crack of dawn, literally.

Day 3

We awoke before dawn and were on the road at 4:30 am in order to visit a few more sites before dropping us off at the Bolivia-Chile border and ensuring there was enough time to get James and Donatella back to Uyuni in time for them to catch their overnight bus back to La Paz.  It was freezing cold, probably below zero.  Our warm hats that we bought in La Paz served us well.  First stop was the geysers, followed by a visit to the natural hot springs where we had breakfast from the back of the truck – two pancakes each and a cup of tea.

Breakfast from the back of the truck.

These geysers were hot!

One final stop to take in the Laguna Verde (green lake) and then we headed off to the border.  We were only a half hour from the border when we had to cross a small stream that had washed over the road.   Can you guess what happened next?  Our car decided to die in the middle of the stream.  I felt Walter’s pain as he groaned under his breath, Ohhhh nooooo.  Walter spryly climbed out of the truck, onto the roof of the car and over the hood.  He managed to fix the car without even getting his toes wet.  Not bad for an older guy!

In short order we were deposited at the border where there was a Bolivian Immigration Office, quite literally in the middle of the desert.

Bolivian immigration office.

With our passports stamped allowing us to leave Bolivia, we waited for the bus that would take us to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile.  We bade farewell to our fellow travellers; I hope they made it back to Uyuni without incident.  I don’t think Donatella could take much more.

Travel Tip:  If we could do it again, we would only do the one day salt flat tour.  While we saw some interesting sights during the second and third day of our tour, the highlight was the salt flats on the first day.  You can save yourself some potential discomfort, time and money by just doing the one-day tour.

Border crossing between Bolivia and Chile.  
The gate was always up, receiving vehicles both ways.

UPDATE:  We just added a video of our 3-day tour reduced to 13 minutes and 49 seconds.  Enjoy!


 

 

La Paz: Where old and new converge

I’m afraid I’ve gotten a little behind on the blog postings.  Guess that’s what happens when you whirl through a country in one week. That’s right. We spent a total of one week in Bolivia which means we really didn’t do it justice. However, at this point in our travels, things are starting to look very similar in each South American country we visit – landscape, geography, economy, architecture, people, food, etc. Of course there are subtle differences, but we don’t feel the need to visit every single city or hike every mountain or volcano to discern such differences. We have the gist of it now.  Rather, we want to focus on the “must see” or “must do” aspects of each country.  In Bolivia, we wanted to tour the Salt Flats.

 

But before I get to that (in the next post), we had a few days to discover La Paz (population 2 million), the defacto capital of Bolivia.  As you enter La Paz, you can’t help but be impressed by its size and its geographic location.  First, you pass through the slums that go on as far as the eye can see.  You may think this is the city until you realize you are only on the the rim of the valley in which the entire city is sprawled out.  It was quite astonishing to see this vast city sitting in a “bowl” surrounded by the high mountains of the altiplano. As the city grows, the city climbs the hills, resulting in varying elevations from 3,000 m to 4,100 m (9,840 ft to 13,450 ft).

When we arrived in La Paz we were overwhelmed by the chaos – the people, the traffic, the markets – the city was hustling and bustling at all hours of the day.  The streets were steep, far steeper than any street I walked in San Francisco, and the altitude was high, making for a lot of huffing and puffing as we probed the various neighbourhoods close to our centrally located hostel.

Old man with basket walking up steep street.

Hang on to those bananas!

The city was one of contrasts from modern, imposing high rise buildings to abject poverty as evidenced by the women with very young children, even infants, begging on the streets late into the night, a troubling sight.  Just when you felt you should do something, then you caught sight of another mother on the next corner, and another, and another.  Maybe I’m becoming cynical, but I suspected that these women were strategically choosing their locations to target tourists returning to their hotels after dinner. One could hardly fault these women though.  I’m sure they would have preferred to be in a cozy home with their children tucked safely in bed rather than sitting on the cold side walk begging late into the night. It was a reflection of the suffocating poverty that choked the majority of the population and a visible reminder that Bolivia is indeed the poorest country in South America.

A main boulevard with manicured pedestrian
walkway in the middle.

Typical building in state of disrepair.

A modern high rise.
San Francisco Church, founded in 1548 and rebuilt 1784.
The Witches Market (Mercado de Brujas)

The illusion of a sophisticated city was shattered when we stepped into the side streets and discovered a market offering everything a witch could possibly need, like shriveled llama fetuses, dried frogs, dried armadillos, concoctions of dried plants and teas, and a wide variety of ceramic figures.  It was fascinating to see these strange and exotic objects and one couldn’t help but wonder what they were used for.  Well, why don’t I tell you.

  • Dried llama fetuses:  These are placed under the foundation of a house when it is being built for good luck.  Apparently, an estimated 99% of Bolivian families have a dried llama under their feet.  It’s a good business to be in.
  • Burnt llama fetus (presented on a plate of sweets and herbs): Ensures good luck for a new business venture.
  • Dried frogs: Brings prosperity and if you stick a cigarette in your frog’s mouth, your chances of striking it rich will increase.
  • Bolivian armadillos: Forget ADT Security. Stick one above the entrance to your house, and it will prevent thieves from entering
  • Amulette d’amor (ceramic couple embracing): Use one of these to get hitched although I’m not quite sure how you use it.
  • Naked ceramic couples: These are supposed to improve your sex life, rectify impotency, and increase fertility.

Basket of llama fetuses.

A tray of good luck potions.
(with instructions on the side)

Something for everyone.

Everything a backpacker could possibly want.

One Big Market

Unlike other towns and cities we have visited, we couldn’t find a central market.  This may be because the entire city appears to be one big market where vendors set up their mats or stalls with their wares covering every inch of every side walk, often spilling into the streets.  Streets were dedicated to certain products or services.  Want a suit? Then visit the suit street.  A pair of shoes for the suit? Yes, go to the shoe street. Some streets just looked like one big flea market with stall after stall of merchandise.  I have never seen so much stuff for sale.  Imagine all the products in Wal Mart laid out on a side walk on small tables and then multiply that by about 50. At times the streets turned into a maze of stalls each leading to yet another street of stalls.  It was easy to get lost amongst the utter confusion.

Closed on Sunday.

One afternoon, we headed in the opposite direction of the tourist district to try to get more of a feel for where the locals hang out.  As we meandered through the maze of stalls, we stumbled upon what we believed to be the black market.  This was where knock offs and counterfeits and all sorts of illegalities were the order of the day. The entire street seemed dark and sinister, like a black cloud had settled over this notorious black market district. People conducted their business in a hushed and subdued manner. Ironically, this market which mainly featured electronic goods was in the shadows of the adjacent street that prominently advertised legitimate electronic goods from well known companies like Sony, Samsung, LG, etc.

Legitimate electronics stores.

Come shopping with us for a few minutes!

Aside from all the every day products sold on every street corner, La Paz was overflowing with artisan shops targeting the tourist dollar.  We spent some time browsing the kaleidoscope of colorful textiles and purchased a couple of warm hats in preparation for our visit to the Salt Flats.  I also bought a scarf that I just love.  Things were dirt cheap – $3 bought you a warm, hand-knit hat or scarf made of alpaca wool.  We were so tempted to buy a textile wall hanging to ship home, but in the end we decided not to.

Typical indigenous clothing.

Showing off my new scarf.

A Local Food Fair

Every single meal we had in Bolivia was delicious.  We tended to stick to the tourist restaurants which we don’t usually do, but I think we were ready for some recognizable food.  We ate amazing Indian food that would have rivalled any British curry house.  We thought we had died and gone to heaven as we savoured melt in your mouth bacon wrapped filet mignon brochettes served with potatoes that had been fried in bacon – yes real bacon – and onions, accompanied with a plate full of wonderful vegetables.  We ate mouth-watering pasta and pizza.  I know, nothing Bolivian.  But with such a fine array of international cuisine to choose from, we just couldn’t resist.

Enjoying the local brew.

We did enjoy one afternoon of cultural cuisine when we stumbled upon a Food Fair which provided a forum for local restaurants to showcase their best cuisine.  This was not a tourist attraction, in fact, we were the only visible tourists amongst the entire crowd.  We stuck to what was recognizable and were impressed with the quality of the food on offer. Throwing caution to the wind, we lined up for something that we couldn’t really recognize, although we could tell it was some kind of meat.  When it was our turn, the servers looked at us skeptically and then suggested they give us just a little taste to see if we liked it. Under their watchful eyes, I took one small bite of the meat and it was all I could do to swallow it.  It was awful!  With a straight face, I offered it to Chris – here honey, you should give this a try. Unsuspecting, he took a bite and I could tell right away that he was ready to gag.  Politely, we handed the plate back to the servers, shaking our head, and with a “no, gracias” and a “sorry”, we gave that place a big pass.  I think they were serving tongue – that was the shape of the meat – although I don’t know whose tongue it was!

Entrance to the food fair.

Fancy vegetable art.

Food samples – yummy!

Dancing in the Streets

It seems South Americans are always celebrating something and La Paz was no exception.  The sound of a marching band in the distance drew us to the location of a local parade in full swing.  This was a great opportunity to legitimately take pictures of the beautiful costumes which we had been admiring on the local indigenous women ever since we arrived.  The smell of booze mixed with urine permeated the street as the parade passed by.  Liquor and beer were being consumed openly in copious quantities by both the parade participants and those watching from the sidelines.  We discovered why the smell of urine is so prevalent in this city – men and boys alike use the side walks and streets as urinals whenever the need arises!

  Dancing in the streets

Money Woes

Our last afternoon in La Paz was spent frantically trying to get money from the notoriously unreliable bank machines.  Only the day before, I had withdrawn the full limit allowed with my bank card so I was surprised that my card didn’t work at any of the dozen or so ATMs we tried the next day.  Chris’ card didn’t work at all, in fact, we realized it hadn’t worked for about 10 days or so.

Finally we contacted our bank to see if perhaps they had put a hold on our cards.  Sure enough, Chris’ card had been frozen since we entered Peru, and mine had just been frozen that day.  What a hassle. And here we had thought the bank machines were at fault.  Well, they were some of the time, but not all of the time.  We got our cards sorted out just before we had to leave for our overnight bus to Uyuni where we would start the tour of the Salt Flats.

Our new toques from La Paz served us well on the
Salt Flats – but more about that in the next post.

Getting a Brazilian Visa in La Paz

The main reason we came to La Paz was to get our Brazilian visas, a pre-requisite for Canadians travelling to Brazil.  We’re taking our transatlantic cruise from Sao Paola in March, so we needed to make sure we secured our visas in advance.  We anticipated needing a week in La Paz to allow for the visa application to get processed.  There was limited information on line about the process so we didn’t know quite what to expect.

When we arrived in La Paz late Thursday afternoon, we immediately got our paperwork in order for our visa applications and found a place to print and make the necessary copies.  These types of services are provided on every corner of every South American city and town we’ve been in and La Paz was no exception.  There is a significant amount of paperwork required when applying for the tourist visa, including a copy of your airline tickets to show you are intending to leave Brazil (our cruise receipt sufficed), copies of 3 months of bank statements to demonstrate you have sufficient money to visit Brazil, a passport quality photograph (we got these in Canada before we left), a copy of your Yellow Fever vaccination record, and of course, the completed application form and your original passport. The Embassy of Brazil in La Paz website (http://www.brasil.org.bo/ml_vis_tur.php) explains very clearly everything you need for your application.

With our paper work in order, we arrived at the Brazilian Embassy at 9:00 on Friday morning – customers # 0 and 1 in the queue.  We were the first to arrive and the last to leave that morning.  We were told to complete an on line form instead of the paper form on the computer they provided. No problem, it was identical to the paper form we had downloaded and completed by hand so we had all the necessary information at our fingertips (things like where you plan to stay in Brazil, your employer address and phone number, etc.)

We were then asked to wait until an Embassy official could speak to us.  Within a half hour, a very pleasant man named Clovis came out to talk to us, thankfully in English.  He had some questions about our paperwork and was satisfied with our answers.  He asked us when we needed our visas and I said we were in La Paz until they were ready, so hopefully by Monday or Tuesday.  He said he would try to process them that very morning, but first we had to pay the application fee – $65 US each – at the Bank of Brazil which was about 10 blocks away.  He was such an amiable fellow, apologizing to us for such an inconvenience.  We didn’t mind – we had the time, and he was going to process our visas today – so all was good.

We grabbed a cab to the bank, paid the bill in Bolivianos as we did not have enough American dollars and the bank machines did not dispense them either.  The bank was very accommodating – money is money.

Back to the Embassy where we were asked to wait again.  Clovis came back out after about a half hour and suggested we go for a walk and come back at 12:30, before the office closed at 12:45.  We went for lunch and returned just before the office closed.  At 1:00 pm, Clovis came out with our passports in hand – complete with our Brazilian visas in place.  Now, how easy was that!

Crossing the border from Peru to Bolivia by land

We were a little anxious about doing our first over land border crossing from Peru into Bolivia but based on all the research we had done, we felt confident that we had picked the route with the best reputation for easy crossings – Puna to Copacabana.  It was also reassuring to see most of our early morning bus filled with other tourists so we weren’t on our own doing this crossing.

First stop was a few minutes from the actual border where we were told we should exchange our Peruvian soles for Bolivianos. I knew the exchange rates at the border were not the best, but we only had 90 soles to exchange, so it didn’t really make much difference.  I proceeded to exchange all of our soles with the exception of my pocket change which amounted to about 4 soles.  I reserved this as I had read online about a stupid requirement to provide a photocopy of your passport to the Bolivian immigration official, after he had stamped it. And apparently they didn’t have a photocopier handy, so you would have to go find somewhere to make copies.  Turns out this wasn’t required at this crossing, but it was good to be prepared nonetheless.

Speaking of being prepared, the night before, I suggested to Chris that we get a couple of hundred US dollars from the ATM to have with us just in case we needed it – an emergency fund if you will.  Part of the reasoning was that ATM’s are so incredibly unreliable here in South America, we didn’t ever want to be stuck somewhere, low on funds and unable to access any cash.  Especially heading to a new country, who knew what the banking situation would be like.  A case in point:  our bank card did not work on any of the 5 ATM’s in Puno.  We ended up taking a cash advance on our credit card, and we were limited to $100 US at that!  But it turns out that emergency fund was a life saver at the border.

Back to our border crossing saga.  After exchanging our money at less than fair rates, we were then taken to the Peruvian immigration offices.  We lined up in front of one office where the guy looked at our tourist visa, and stamped it.  We then lined up in the building next door to get our passports stamped by the immigration official.  Since several buses had arrived at the same time, there were lots of people getting processed.  Our bus assistant, Jose, was very helpful making sure everybody from our bus went to the right line ups.  Surprisingly, the lines moved quite quickly.

When it was our turn to get our passports stamped, I could tell right away there was a problem.  The two officials whispered to each other, then asked us if we spoke Spanish.  I said a little, and then he told us in English that we must pay a tax.  Why, we asked.  We had overstayed our visit in Peru.  That’s ridiculous, we said,  we’ve only been in Peru for 11 days, we’re allowed to stay much longer.  Not so, they said, as they pointed to a “10” scribbled by hand on our tourist card that we received in Lima at the airport.  Apparently, the “10” meant we were only allowed to be in the country for 10 days. We thought they were trying to pull one over on us, so we argued with them that the regulations permitted us to be in the country for at least 60 days. After a few minutes of arguing that wasn’t getting us anywhere, I asked – how much is the tax anyways?  $1 for every day over the limit.  I quickly did the math and realized we were only over by 1 day.  Well that meant $1 for each of us.  No big deal.  We’ll pay the tax even though we think we shouldn’t have to.

Peru Immigration Office (where all the fuss occurred).

As soon as I agreed to pay the tax, they said if I wanted to pay them, it would cost an additional $10 each, but we could go to the bank and pay the $1 tax, get a receipt and then come back to get our passport stamped. Where was the bank?  They pointed outside, to the left.  We found our bus attendant Jose (the guy in the blue striped shirt in the picture above) and asked him if he could help us out, plus we wanted to make sure the bus and our packs didn’t leave without us.  He said we could take a taxi to the bank – it was just a few minutes away – but the bank was closed.  Great.  That was helpful.

So we had no choice but to go back into the Immigration office.  Jose came with us to try to hurry things along. While we were going through this, another guy was also pulled aside and they were trying to get $15 out of him. I asked the Immigration officer if we can pay in Bolivian soles – no, only Peruvian soles or American dollars. Well, we just exchanged all our money to Bolivian soles.  We did have our $100 US emergency fund but didn’t want to play that card yet.

For some reason, the guy then reduced our fee to $1 each (maybe just to shut us both up and get us out of there or maybe he thought we didn’t have the money to pay the fine).   I offered my 4 soles, but he insisted it should be 6 soles.  I pulled out 2 american dollars in coins but they wouldn’t accept this either -had to be bills.  Finally, we took out a $20 US bill, and asked for change – which surprisingly they gave to us.  All I can say is thank goodness we had that emergency fund as I’m not sure what would have happened otherwise.

Unfortunately, the other fellow was not so lucky.  I think he really pissed them off when he took his camera out and threatened to take pictures.  He was forced to pay the full amount if he wanted out of the country.  All three of us were convinced we had been scammed by corrupt officials.

We finally got our passports stamped so we could leave the country.  We then walked over to the Bolivian side and got our passports stamped again along with a 30 day tourist visa (we checked this time).  Aside from the tax “scam”, the crossing was really simple.  We left our bags on the bus, and the bus met us on the Bolivian side.

The road to Bolivia.

Crossing the border.

We’re in Bolivia!

Another line up for Bolivian customs which were a breeze.

And now for the part of the story I hate to admit…….we were wrong!  Apparently, when you enter Peru, the amount of time you are allowed to stay is at the complete discretion of the Customs Officer who processes you at your entry point – the Lima airport in our case. They normally give 30, 60 or 90 time limits, but in our case, they only gave us 10 days.  I think the guy must have been in a bad mood or something.  It turns out that if you exceed the time you are permitted to be in the country, you have committed a criminal offence.  That’s right. We were criminals as far as the Peruvian officials were concerned.  It is well documented that the $1 a day tax is the levy imposed for such criminal behaviour. However, the $10 fee that was waived is clearly not an official tax.  I don’t know how I missed all this information in my research before we entered the country.  I am usually quite thorough, reviewing our government’s website as well as registering our whereabouts with Foreign Affairs.

But here’s the thing.  When you’re being rushed through customs on entry, the guy is looking at your passport and tourist card, then quickly stamping everything and scribbling something on your tourist card and waves you on.  You think everything is fine, however, it’s the scribble on the tourist card that indicates how many days you are allowed in the country. If that number does not align with the number of days you plan to be in the country, then you must ask the official to change the number.  Hopefully he agrees because he doesn’t have to change it. As soon as you walk away from his desk, that number is sealed and you have no opportunity for recourse – you must leave the country within the number of days on your card or you become criminals, like us.  Unfortunately, it was these finer details that alluded us.  Still, I feel quite bad about losing our cool with the officials when we were exiting.  Aside from the extra $20 “administration fee” they were trying to scam coerce out of us, they were really just doing their jobs and following their rules.

For me this was a good lesson.  We need to be extra diligent reviewing the entry and exit requirements of each country we visit.  And we need to keep our cool even if we think we’re being scammed by corrupt officials.  A small reserve of American dollars can go a long way to getting you out of a pickle.  At the end of the day, I think it’s better to pay off the official rather than end up in jail, or worse.

Travel Tip:  When entering Peru, check the number written by the Customs Agent on your tourist card.  If it doesn’t cover the number of days you plan to be in the country, ask, beg or plead with the agent to change the number.  Otherwise, be prepared, on exit, to pay a tax of $1 per day you exceed your limit.  Don’t kick up a fuss, just pay the damn tax.

Travel Tip:  When travelling in South America, be prepared in case your debit card does not work at any of the local ATM’s.  Some suggestions:

  • Try to get money before you really need it, for example, the day before you need to pay your hostel bill.  This way, you have a couple of days to try to get money from the bank machines. There is no rhyme or reason when your card will work.  One day it works; they next day it doesn’t.  One hour it works; the next hour it doesn’t.
  • Carry a Mastercard or Visa credit card with you for emergencies.  This has saved us more than once when we just couldn’t get our debit card to work.  It’s expensive to take cash advances – a hefty $7.50 transaction fee is not uncommon, plus any fees your credit card company tacks on for the international transaction.
  • Carry a small reserve of American dollars for emergency purposes, including paying off corrupt officials.  At least you’ll be able to stay out of jail, or pay your hostel bill before leaving town.
Stay tuned for our next encounter with government officials – this time with the Brazilian Embassy in La Paz.  Things didn’t turn out at all the way we thought they would.

Interested in learning a little bit about Bolivia – where it is, its currency, a little about its geography and economy and a few other interesting facts?  Follow the “Bolivia” link on the top left side of the website under “Where are we now” or just click here to make it easy.