You can´t write fiction this good; The 2 day slog from Rurrenebaque to Santa Cruz

*** Note: This blog was written a few days ago, but we just got the opportunity to post it. ***

I am sitting here in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. I have been successfully procrastinating the writing of this blog. Where to start this one? In the jungle or the trip to Santa Cruz? I will vent about the trip here first. Oh, what a trip it was. Todd and I were talking about making a list of best/worst things about our trip. i.e. bus rides, cities, etc. Well, this last bus adventure just made the top of the worst list coming in at 48 hrs 24 min and 44 secs. Just to give you an idea, the whole trip from Rurrenabeque to Santa Cruz should have taken 36ish hours.

We left Rurrenabeque at 5:30pm on a 5pm scheduled bus. They said we had to sleep in San Borja because the river crossings were closed during the night. Not looking at a map we accepted this fact. After 4 hours in a little combi we arrived in San Borja; dropped our stuff at Hotel a la Bus, grabbed a beer, some fried chicken with noodles and fries, released our bladders in the facilities adjacent to the bus, aka the grass, and curled up on the seats hoping for a night of blissful sleep. The mosquitos played a lovely tune in my ears all night and the sun greeted us at the early hour of 5:45am. We saved $2.50 from sleeping in the bus vs. a hotel. From here, our bus relocated to the bus terminal where we waited for another 3 hrs for the bus to leave. A yummy breakfast of coffee and empanadas at the food shack helped us kill a whole 30 min.

Our bus rolled out of San Borja around 8:30am. I kept expecting said river crossing. Well, as the sun rose so did the temperature in the bus. And still no river crossing. No, that did not come for another 5hrs. Now, I was totally confused as to our wonderful evening in San Borja. Too late now to ask questions. Anyway, the river crossings are amusing in themselves. The bus loads on a barge and a 40hp motor, which is attached to a separate boat, powers you across the water. Build a bridge? Why bother.

Our bus driver was super pokey. Taking his time down the fabulous dirt roads. Luckily, my narcoleptic tendencies did not let me down and I faded in and out of consciousness for most of the bus ride.

River crossing two complete and we were finally in Trinidad, our half way point. Not wanting to spend much time in Trinidad, we quickly went to the bus terminal to find the next bus to Santa Cruz.

Now, shit gets interesting. There was a blockade in the road. Set up by the indigenous people because the minister of water of Beni (the region) has completely failed in his 10 years in office to supply water to the district. No water running through the taps of a region covered in rivers. So, they set blockades on the one road out of town leading to Santa Cruz, and they weren't going to let up until he resigned, but he apparently thought he was doing an excellent job and had no reason to resign. Excellent! Todd managed to find one company that swore they could get out of Trinidad. We just had to make our way around the blockade and to the bus. So, anticipating the 8pm departure and not sure what this blockade was all about we bought a pack of crackers and hopped in a taxi around 5:30pm. At the blockade, we exited the taxi, casually walked around the blockade, which was a group of people in the road with branches and a couple of huge trucks blocking the way. Didn't look too bad. We hiked about 2km to the bus and waited. Moto taxis were in heaven as they transported desperate people between the blockades. Motos, farm trucks, and strange contraptions on wheels (that can only dream of being called a vehicle) appeared from nowhere to take advantage of the mass of lost people. As we waited, 3 more blockades were set up down the road. Not good. 8pm came and went, we weren't going anywhere. There was supposed to be an administrator who was coming out from the bus terminal to fix everything, make it all good, but apparently he got a flat tire on the way over and never made it. Surprising? Not at all. The one good piece of news was the fact that there was midnight summit going on, with high hopes of success.

That was about the only glimmer of hope in the darkness. We munched on crackers and nuts (dinner of waiting champions) and tried to convince the bus people to let us sleep on the bus for the night. No luck. We left our big bag, yes, we now have a gigantic 3rd back o'junk and Todd's guitar on the bus for the night. I was not happy with this decision.

We walked the 2km back to the blockade in the dead of night, observing all the bus and truck drivers preparing for another night on the side of the road. Some hung hammocks under their trucks, some were opening their playing cards and bottles of bootleg liquor, some of the bus drivers grouped together to watch a movie in a bus that was going nowhere. 9pm we arrived at the bar. We needed a drink. This was day 3 of the blockades and people were convinced it was only gaining in strength. We drank our beer and recounted the past couple of hours before retiring to the bus station, the evenings accomodations. Luckily, there were 2 benches available for us. Gives a new meaning to hardwood furniture. Another wonderful nights sleep, this one resulting in bruised hip bones. We preformed the morning duties of teeth brushing, nail filing (my new hobby as I try to quit biting my nails), and of course el bano at 1bs a usage. Another breakfast of empanadas and coffee, again at a bus terminal. I told Todd I was going to kill the groundhog if we didn't get out of town today. Since the bus company wasn't open yet, Todd started asking around to various people to figure out what was going on, if the midnight meeting was successful or not, any news at all. The only thing he came back with was the phrase, "the blockade has never been stronger." Encouraging words to those trying to bust through the blockage. 8am we checked in with the bus company.

We were leaving!! The administrator told us to get taxis and get to the bus asap, the bus was leaving. Awesome. So we each grabbed a moto taxi (we needed two since we had our backpacks on) and headed back to the blockade. My guy went right around the blockade, Todd's went left, and the administrator disappeared. Blockade one, passed. Well, over the course of the evening things got rowdy and another blockade was set up. At this one, I was lucky enough to witness one of the protesters, dooks up and back stepping as a bus driver attempted to pass the blockade. Oh yea, the bus driver was walking forward kicking his legs in front of him and at the guy. Neither gentleman looked intimidating or manly, but I did choose to veer the side of caution and pass on the back side of the bus. My moto guy drove through the grass and we were off again. It went like this until we reached the last bus down the road. No 'America' bus was there. No Todd was there. And no administrator was there and my man wanted money. He hadn't bargained on going 3km down the road. Now, I was a little nervous. Where was the bus? husband? shit!

Todd showed up. Apparently a barbed wire fence slowed him down. His driver had taken a wrong turn, leaving him no choice but to jump a rusty barbed wire fence and find another moto to take him on. The people at the bus very convincingly assured us that our bus, 'America', had left at 5am that morning and that there were NO buses further on. At this point, I am no longer calm and collected. I think I actually scared Todd a little. What the heck do we do now? What about our stuff that we left on the bus? Well, we started to walk back to town, keeping an eye out for the bus administrator. We're literally looking for some guy with a clipboard. Find the clipboard, find the man, find the bus, find our stuff. Where's the !@#$ing clipboard?! Luckily, we found him and I swiftly jumped in front of his moto and harshly yelled at him to stop and explain what was going on. I am sure my Spanish was completely botched in emotion. He assured us that the bus was just further up the road. We just had to pay yet two more moto drivers to take us there. Awesome! We find one immediately and I sent Todd so that he could sort out the problem upon arrival. I figured Spanish won over sex in this case. I quickly found my own moto taxi and told him to follow the guy with the red backpack, aka Todd. So, here we are again on taxis, my guyfollowing Todd, Todd's guy following the administrator, who, we have no idea where he's going. He's apparently going way passed all the other buses. We rode for what seemed like forever. My driver kept trying to pass the administrator and I kept yelling at him "No pase!, No pase!" I wasn't letting this clipboard man out of my sight again.

Finally, the bus appears on the horizon. My body immediately lets out a little tension. We fork overmore money for taxis and quickly move over to Mr. Administrator. No, we do not leave at 8am, rather time passses and we end up leaving at 10am.

But not before our pleas for taxi reimbursement are completely shrugged off. Oh, and the bus turned around, headed toward the blockade, got stuck trying to turn around in the road, and spent an hour waiting for 5 more people. They didn't want to pay for the taxis. Well, this got the Bolivian women riled and even in my learning stage of Spanish, I was laughing as they reamed the administrator with such lashings as..."We payed, they can pay." "Where in the world does a bus wait for 5 people." etc. Luckily, a woman selling chicken on a stick came by and at least quelled our hunger. At that point, the evenings meal of crackers and beer and the one empanada had worn off.

So, the bus finally left. I couldn't believe it. We did stop a couple of times to let the late passengers on. Where upon arrival they were warmly greeted by the same ladies berating their tardiness as they waived the new arrivals to the back of the bus with total disdain. Oh, and the guy behind me decided to play dj, choosing the classic MC Hammer and NKOTB. We were off. The bus driver must have been just as ready to arrive in Santa Cruz as we were because he did not stop the bus once in 9 hrs. At least he let on a couple of food vendors when the same ladies started yelling that they were hungry. Luckily, Todd and I still had some crackers. Good times.

I know this is a long account of our journey, but that is exactly how we felt living it.