October 8
Our day had a lovely start. Bolivian Mama Wilma again made us a great breakfast, and after we packed the motos and hugged goodbye (Ernesto says she really likes me) we had 50 beautiful km of scenery. At one point we had two pretty great scenes off both sides. To our right there was a small winding river, flamingos, and well decorated alpacas. To our left was a dried river bed with more alpacas, vicunas, and a pair of rheas! We slowed down and when we came to a stop all of them started running; animals with long legs and long necks are fun to watch run.
Then we hit “Tramo en Reparacion” (road in repair) for 100-125 km. We knew there was going to be construction, but we expected a third of what we got. You name it, we rode it. Mud, gravel, sand, steep up, steep down, narrow, creeks (one particularly large and dark creek), dust, baby head rocks… ugh. And all in pretty desolate conditions. The goal was pretty much to keep bike upright and arrive to Tupiza by sunset. Ernesto stayed upright all day but I had two falls. The first was no problemo but the second was after a big creek crossing and I bent/broke the latching mechanism on one of my side cases. Ernesto knew exactly how to temporarily fix it (as the sun was going down and we were still some km out of town). I can honestly say that for all those km we were off pavimento I thought of nothing but the road. I concentrated so hard. It was the longest, toughest stretch we have done so far.
The geology of this area, especially within a few dozen km of Tupiza, is stunning (and to Kristin, today put it over the top. Dude). The only con/regret of concentrating so hard on the road today was that I couldn’t look at the columns and cliffs around me. And the colors of the rocks… shades of green and red in particular.
We had some drama getting into town (stories for another day), but we got to our hotel just as it was getting dark. Yet again we are duped by parking, and into the lobby we went via bricks and 2 x 4’s. There were two green parrots and a huge hyacinth macaw as pets of the hotel lobby and after we got off our bikes the macaw said “Hola!”. Like all exotic pets (and probably more so for those that greet you in Spanish), for the first second it's exciting and I felt the thrill of being so close to an animal I would otherwise never be as close to, but then I remember that it's a hyacinth macaw... An animal I didn’t know existed before reading about macaws in Costa Rica and one that should not be kept in a hotel lobby. Sigh. By 7 pm we are off bikes and all our gear is wherever it is spending the night (locked to the bike or in our room) and we are too tired to even think about the idea of finding and sitting at a restaurant. We ask La Senora where the biggest, closest market is and we go. It wasn’t very large, but they had peanut butter. YES. We have not seen peanut butter since Northern Mexico (and we’ve been looking). We buy it, some crackers, and some beers. YES.
To Ernesto, “What would you like to remember about today?”
“We got to see rheas. And some pretty amazing rock formations. I was reminded of the story of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, as it really did look like cowboys paradise out there”.
October 9
The plan for today was to drive to the Bolivia-Argentina border, which is less than 100 km away. We had a hotel booking in the Argentine side, so after our crossing we could be done for the day. We get our motos out of the lobby, pack them on the street, successfully get some Premium gas (happy motos!), and head south. We get to speed and then POOF, about 50-75 Bolivians have set up a road block. Bloqueo. Piles and piles of rocks in the road. It was blocked from both sides, so anyone trying to get to or leave Tupiza would have been denied access. As we approached they wave vegetation and stood as proud and as tall as their short little bodies could possibly stand. They told us we cannot pass. Ernesto and I didn’t understand… there are women and children and food carts around so it didn’t feel dirty or like a scam. We ask porque? They tell us because of water - they have no water. This made no sense to me… Was there water in the road? Did they have to get water from the road in such a way that meant no traffic? She was talking about water tanks not getting filled (I think, there were some ‘new to me’ words in our conversation). I asked if trucks could go, she said no. I asked if police could go, she said yes. They told us we could pass in two days. There was maybe a little place where E and I could have tried to cut through, but even if one of us made it, the other would have been rushed by all the people. A police officer came up on a moto and we talked to him. Si, es la verdad. Dos dias. No podimos pasar.
So we went back to town… luckily La Senora and her hotel stayed open (she had heard about the bloqueo just after we left the hotel) and agreed to have us for two more nights. She had also heard it would be two days until the road was open again, so that confirmation was good (I was scared thinking about what we were going to do if we couldn’t pass). We unpacked the bikes, got them back in the lobby, then decided we mind as well walk around town. Tupiza was a ghost town. Almost everything that was not a survival mini-market was closed and there were very few people on the streets or main plaza. We hadn’t stocked up on more Bolivian cash because we were planning on leaving Bolivia today, and La Senora and everything in Tupiza is cash only. There are three ATM’s in this town, and the first one we went to was out of money and the second one was local-bank only. Luckily the third one had cash… phew. With cash we got some sundries and we head back to the hotel to research what was up with the water and the the people and the road and the road block...
To our ignorant surprise, it was a social protest, which is very common practice in Bolivia. Once educating myself on the situation, I feel bad for many reasons. In no particular order: 1) I didn’t know about Bolivia’s crushing past in that it has had so many good resources and has had most of them taken, 2) I am an asshole and offered money in exchange for passing the blockade (desculpe), and 3) until I knew what was going on, I felt inconvenienced and the whole thing was a disruption to OUR day (desculpe). I also read about their new President, Evo Morales. He is a socialist, trying to reduce the influence of the global north on his country, and is loved by Bolivians and thought of us as the new Che Guevara. We have seen the local support of Evo from tip to tip of Bolivia, and I hope he eventually brings even more and better change to the people. The best articles I read about the social movements in Bolivia were the peer-reviewed type (oh JSTOR), but the best AP type article I read was one by Phil Johnson (who has a name that makes it impossible to find out more about him, so sorry for lack of a shout out Phil). The final paragraph of his article is worth quoting:
You probably came to Bolivia to ride down the Death Road, visit San Pedro prison, try some local coke and maybe tour the salt flats. They’re all fine, and they’re all apparently typical to Bolivia, but so too is the roadblock. You may not like it, but chances are it is a fair bit more important than arriving at your hostel on time. Take your camera out, snap some clandestine pictures; you’re witnessing a crude, sweaty victory for the little guys.
http://www.roadjunky.com/2320/the-proud-and-noble-tradition-of-the-bolivian-road-block/
If it weren’t such a pain in the ass to take the motos in and out of this place I’d go back to the road block, apologize, and tell them I appreciate what they are doing.
(pause)
My hypocrisy knows no bounds… I can’t be inconvenienced to take my moto out of a hotel lobby to go and support a group of people that are standing up for themselves to get access to clean water…
October 10
With all of town shut down and quiet, we were early to bed and early to rise. We had coffee, did some online research about future routes, repacked and fixed some stuff on the motos, read our Kindles, and worked on details like money and banking. I.e., we spent the day in our bubble of privilege during a social protest... A unique and pathetic challenge. By 6 pm here in Tupiza we were stir crazy from being indoors. We heard from La Senora that the bloqueo was lifting around sunset, which in addition to the road being open for night passage, also meant that town might come to life. And from polleria to ferreteria it did! We stopped at some well lit “Italian” place, as did eight other tables of people. This is of note as we can’t remember the last restaurant we were at that had so many people. We realize this could have just been that it was actually dinner time, as opposed to Grandma & Grandpa eating at 4 or 5. While I was happy to eat warm food that was not from a bag or box, it did make me think of how Bolivians deal with the logistics and business losses of social movements. They all seem so dependent on commercial goods - buying and selling is an intricate way of life in SAmerica. So closing their shop during the protest and not making any money on those days seems the ultimate price for them as individuals (especially in an area with tourists). Does this sacrifice help strengthen the community benefit? I wish my Spanish was good enough to talk to them about their bloqueos.
Less intense, and as I have mentioned, at this point on the ride I have a moto shirt (green) and a non-moto shirt (gray). My third and blue wool shirt is still in a transitional phase of being worked into madness (as I didn't wear said wool shirt until it got cold). Anyway, the gray non-moto shirt is usually what I wear to dinner, if we eat dinner “out”. Perhaps this happens more with me than others, but from soup to salad dressing to juice I am the kind of person to get a little splash on myself at least once or twice a week. Ok, fine, but then consider wearing the same shirt over four months…. I got a good look of myself in that grey shirt in good lighting today, and my boobs and belly are showered with food stains. Pun intended.
Our day had a lovely start. Bolivian Mama Wilma again made us a great breakfast, and after we packed the motos and hugged goodbye (Ernesto says she really likes me) we had 50 beautiful km of scenery. At one point we had two pretty great scenes off both sides. To our right there was a small winding river, flamingos, and well decorated alpacas. To our left was a dried river bed with more alpacas, vicunas, and a pair of rheas! We slowed down and when we came to a stop all of them started running; animals with long legs and long necks are fun to watch run.
Then we hit “Tramo en Reparacion” (road in repair) for 100-125 km. We knew there was going to be construction, but we expected a third of what we got. You name it, we rode it. Mud, gravel, sand, steep up, steep down, narrow, creeks (one particularly large and dark creek), dust, baby head rocks… ugh. And all in pretty desolate conditions. The goal was pretty much to keep bike upright and arrive to Tupiza by sunset. Ernesto stayed upright all day but I had two falls. The first was no problemo but the second was after a big creek crossing and I bent/broke the latching mechanism on one of my side cases. Ernesto knew exactly how to temporarily fix it (as the sun was going down and we were still some km out of town). I can honestly say that for all those km we were off pavimento I thought of nothing but the road. I concentrated so hard. It was the longest, toughest stretch we have done so far.
The geology of this area, especially within a few dozen km of Tupiza, is stunning (and to Kristin, today put it over the top. Dude). The only con/regret of concentrating so hard on the road today was that I couldn’t look at the columns and cliffs around me. And the colors of the rocks… shades of green and red in particular.
We had some drama getting into town (stories for another day), but we got to our hotel just as it was getting dark. Yet again we are duped by parking, and into the lobby we went via bricks and 2 x 4’s. There were two green parrots and a huge hyacinth macaw as pets of the hotel lobby and after we got off our bikes the macaw said “Hola!”. Like all exotic pets (and probably more so for those that greet you in Spanish), for the first second it's exciting and I felt the thrill of being so close to an animal I would otherwise never be as close to, but then I remember that it's a hyacinth macaw... An animal I didn’t know existed before reading about macaws in Costa Rica and one that should not be kept in a hotel lobby. Sigh. By 7 pm we are off bikes and all our gear is wherever it is spending the night (locked to the bike or in our room) and we are too tired to even think about the idea of finding and sitting at a restaurant. We ask La Senora where the biggest, closest market is and we go. It wasn’t very large, but they had peanut butter. YES. We have not seen peanut butter since Northern Mexico (and we’ve been looking). We buy it, some crackers, and some beers. YES.
To Ernesto, “What would you like to remember about today?”
“We got to see rheas. And some pretty amazing rock formations. I was reminded of the story of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, as it really did look like cowboys paradise out there”.
October 9
The plan for today was to drive to the Bolivia-Argentina border, which is less than 100 km away. We had a hotel booking in the Argentine side, so after our crossing we could be done for the day. We get our motos out of the lobby, pack them on the street, successfully get some Premium gas (happy motos!), and head south. We get to speed and then POOF, about 50-75 Bolivians have set up a road block. Bloqueo. Piles and piles of rocks in the road. It was blocked from both sides, so anyone trying to get to or leave Tupiza would have been denied access. As we approached they wave vegetation and stood as proud and as tall as their short little bodies could possibly stand. They told us we cannot pass. Ernesto and I didn’t understand… there are women and children and food carts around so it didn’t feel dirty or like a scam. We ask porque? They tell us because of water - they have no water. This made no sense to me… Was there water in the road? Did they have to get water from the road in such a way that meant no traffic? She was talking about water tanks not getting filled (I think, there were some ‘new to me’ words in our conversation). I asked if trucks could go, she said no. I asked if police could go, she said yes. They told us we could pass in two days. There was maybe a little place where E and I could have tried to cut through, but even if one of us made it, the other would have been rushed by all the people. A police officer came up on a moto and we talked to him. Si, es la verdad. Dos dias. No podimos pasar.
So we went back to town… luckily La Senora and her hotel stayed open (she had heard about the bloqueo just after we left the hotel) and agreed to have us for two more nights. She had also heard it would be two days until the road was open again, so that confirmation was good (I was scared thinking about what we were going to do if we couldn’t pass). We unpacked the bikes, got them back in the lobby, then decided we mind as well walk around town. Tupiza was a ghost town. Almost everything that was not a survival mini-market was closed and there were very few people on the streets or main plaza. We hadn’t stocked up on more Bolivian cash because we were planning on leaving Bolivia today, and La Senora and everything in Tupiza is cash only. There are three ATM’s in this town, and the first one we went to was out of money and the second one was local-bank only. Luckily the third one had cash… phew. With cash we got some sundries and we head back to the hotel to research what was up with the water and the the people and the road and the road block...
To our ignorant surprise, it was a social protest, which is very common practice in Bolivia. Once educating myself on the situation, I feel bad for many reasons. In no particular order: 1) I didn’t know about Bolivia’s crushing past in that it has had so many good resources and has had most of them taken, 2) I am an asshole and offered money in exchange for passing the blockade (desculpe), and 3) until I knew what was going on, I felt inconvenienced and the whole thing was a disruption to OUR day (desculpe). I also read about their new President, Evo Morales. He is a socialist, trying to reduce the influence of the global north on his country, and is loved by Bolivians and thought of us as the new Che Guevara. We have seen the local support of Evo from tip to tip of Bolivia, and I hope he eventually brings even more and better change to the people. The best articles I read about the social movements in Bolivia were the peer-reviewed type (oh JSTOR), but the best AP type article I read was one by Phil Johnson (who has a name that makes it impossible to find out more about him, so sorry for lack of a shout out Phil). The final paragraph of his article is worth quoting:
You probably came to Bolivia to ride down the Death Road, visit San Pedro prison, try some local coke and maybe tour the salt flats. They’re all fine, and they’re all apparently typical to Bolivia, but so too is the roadblock. You may not like it, but chances are it is a fair bit more important than arriving at your hostel on time. Take your camera out, snap some clandestine pictures; you’re witnessing a crude, sweaty victory for the little guys.
http://www.roadjunky.com/2320/the-proud-and-noble-tradition-of-the-bolivian-road-block/
If it weren’t such a pain in the ass to take the motos in and out of this place I’d go back to the road block, apologize, and tell them I appreciate what they are doing.
(pause)
My hypocrisy knows no bounds… I can’t be inconvenienced to take my moto out of a hotel lobby to go and support a group of people that are standing up for themselves to get access to clean water…
October 10
With all of town shut down and quiet, we were early to bed and early to rise. We had coffee, did some online research about future routes, repacked and fixed some stuff on the motos, read our Kindles, and worked on details like money and banking. I.e., we spent the day in our bubble of privilege during a social protest... A unique and pathetic challenge. By 6 pm here in Tupiza we were stir crazy from being indoors. We heard from La Senora that the bloqueo was lifting around sunset, which in addition to the road being open for night passage, also meant that town might come to life. And from polleria to ferreteria it did! We stopped at some well lit “Italian” place, as did eight other tables of people. This is of note as we can’t remember the last restaurant we were at that had so many people. We realize this could have just been that it was actually dinner time, as opposed to Grandma & Grandpa eating at 4 or 5. While I was happy to eat warm food that was not from a bag or box, it did make me think of how Bolivians deal with the logistics and business losses of social movements. They all seem so dependent on commercial goods - buying and selling is an intricate way of life in SAmerica. So closing their shop during the protest and not making any money on those days seems the ultimate price for them as individuals (especially in an area with tourists). Does this sacrifice help strengthen the community benefit? I wish my Spanish was good enough to talk to them about their bloqueos.
Less intense, and as I have mentioned, at this point on the ride I have a moto shirt (green) and a non-moto shirt (gray). My third and blue wool shirt is still in a transitional phase of being worked into madness (as I didn't wear said wool shirt until it got cold). Anyway, the gray non-moto shirt is usually what I wear to dinner, if we eat dinner “out”. Perhaps this happens more with me than others, but from soup to salad dressing to juice I am the kind of person to get a little splash on myself at least once or twice a week. Ok, fine, but then consider wearing the same shirt over four months…. I got a good look of myself in that grey shirt in good lighting today, and my boobs and belly are showered with food stains. Pun intended.