Home » Paraguay Bolivia » Off the Bus - Paraguay/Bolivia [2]

At 1:00am I remember stopping at a grimy Esso petrol station where I got off to use the toilet. This was unlike the rest of the men on the bus who stepped off and urinated where they felt like it. A bush, a tree, the gas station forecourt...

Off the Bus - Paraguay/Bolivia [2]

Matthew
2004-03-05 23:57:14

Displayed times (last time: ) Rating 5/5

Rating: 5.00 out of 5.00. 1 members have rated this article

on a ship crossing the high swells of the Drake Passage to Antarctica. Just to add to the excitement the bridge itself was incredibly narrow with only just enough room for the width of the bus. At one point I thought I could make out a river down below but we were very high up and in the end all I could see was darkness. We crossed slowly and cautiously with steel girders passing by the windows and the hollow sound of tyres thumping over wooden planks. From where I was sat, I couldn't see what the floor of the bridge was made of and I really didn't want to know - the noise alone sounded unsafe. We made it to the other side, "another obstacle out of the way" I thought as I peered out the window at more wooden shacks selling sweets and soft drinks. I was feeling so tired now that it was impossible not to sleep and so, without any effort, that's exactly what I did.

7:00am and at last we have reached Santa Cruz - I can't believe it, we're almost at the end of the journey, the prospect of life off the bus is looming on the horizon. A few passengers are dropped off on the outskirts of the town near a water purification plant, along with a myriad of luggage. Almost predictably this is not straight forward as the disembarking passengers start having an argument with someone about money. Among all the shouting in Spanish I can hear them quoting figures at each other in US dollars. The argument didn't appear to be resolved and we drove off leaving the family and their belongings on a small traffic island looking like they were the beginnings of a mini refugee camp.
As we got closer to the centre of this frontier town the surprisingly wide streets and single storey buildings were replaced with narrower one-way roads and taller constructions. Outside it looked cold as people made their way to work in woolly hats with hands in pockets and their heads down into the wind. We stopped a couple of blocks away from the bus terminal where everyone began to get off - we'd made it, the journey was over and as if to celebrate that fact, Jayne's seat righted itself when she pushed the lever forwards - no force or thumping and punching was required it just decided that after 36 hours of being firmly stuck now was the time to become unstuck. All that remained was to retrieve our bags then we could go and find a room and relax. Our backpacks came out of the luggage compartment completely covered in a light red dusty earth, it seemed like a large portion of the Chaco was inside them - my bag also had a rip in it but I wasn't really concerned since we were now officially "Off the bus". In a moment of madness, Paul and Kate considered getting another bus straight away to a town called Cochabamba but then, sensibly, changed their minds and decided to stay in Santa Cruz.

The entire afternoon and part of the evening was spent in a friendly bar with Scott, a Canadian who was staying at our hostel, Alistair, a graphic designer from Manchester and Paul and Kate. As we recounted the story of our journey we made the same toast over and over again, our glasses raised and meeting in the middle of the table. Here's to being: "Off the Bus!"