Shake, rattle and rolling my way to Salta

Before getting to Uyuni I had read a bit about getting to Salta in Argentina. As Bolivian buses aren’t allowed across the border I would have to cross on foot at a town called Villazon and pick up a connecting bus in La Quiaca to Salta.

It was recommended to take the bus to Villazon during the day due to the condition of the road. My first task when getting to Uyuni was to sort out my bus and then find somewhere to sleep. There is no main bus terminal in Uyuni, however all the bus company offices are situated around the top end of Avenida Arce (after the plaza with the church), Cabrera and Peru. The buses pick you up from outside the office you booked with. After trying two companies, which only had evening departures, I found one, Tupiza Travel, that had a bus leaving at 6am the following day for 60 Bolivianos.

Due to the early start I endeavoured to find a hostel close to the bus company’s office. After passing a few dubious looking places I stumbled upon a fairly modern looking hotel about a 2 minute walk from where I’d have to get the bus.

As I usually try to book ahead I didn’t have much practice with regards asking in Spanish for a room so I turned to the limited phrase section of my guidebook to help. In my rush I accidently turned to the Portuguese section, realised what I was saying didn’t seem right and noticed the owner was looking at me slightly bemused before I found the right page and managed to get a single room for 60 Bolivianos. The room was basic and the bed was clean and comfy so for one night it was fine.

I was told to get to the office 30mins before departure so that meant another 5am start. When I walked into the office I was unsurprisingly the only gringo so this alone got me a few looks. Some of the people waiting looked like they may have been there all night as several were asleep in the uncomfortable looking plastic garden chairs under blankets.  

The bus arrived and it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be but it still looked like it had seen better days. The first three hours of the journey were over unpaved road so it was very shaky. This coach also had sliding windows and typically I was sat next to the one with a dodgy catch so every so often the vibrations caused it to open!

 

Waiting in Atocha

We made a few stops in tiny hamlets and picked up a few people before making a stop in a village called Atocha. I overheard the driver say we’d stop for an hour, so I took the opportunity to stretch my legs a bit and people watch. Ended up chatting to a young girl, who also got on in Uyuni and I shared some chocolate with her.

 

Then an old-ish guy, who also got on at Uyuni approached us. He asked how I was getting on with the altitude, at first I thought he was saying I had a red nose from the sun (admittedly I did a bit) but he was actually referring to breathing. He explained he comes from the Santa Cruz province, which is in the lowlands and was finding he was short of breath here. He was very animated when he spoke along with lots of gesturing so I didn’t find it too hard to get the gist of what he was saying and found him quite amusing.

The village, which had been fairly sleepy up to this point, suddenly filled with people, I still have no idea where they all came from, wanting to get on the bus. By the time we set off again there were lots of people standing in the aisle, which I think may be illegal in Bolivia as overcrowded buses are often a main cause of accidents.

 

As we made our way out of the village through a valley I realised why it was preferable to take this journey in daylight. The road meanders up and down mountains and through valleys. Needless to say my heart was pretty much in my throat the whole way, although the views when I dared to look out of the window were stunning. I suppose the advantage to taking the night bus would have been that I would be none the wiser, however with the bumpy road surface I doubt I’d have got much sleep.

We eventually hit a proper main road and I could hear that every time the driver went to change gear it was taking a while for it to engage properly, which I guess wasn't surprising after the route we’d just taken.

 

We pulled into Tupiza, the stop before Villazon and everyone got off, I stayed on the bus as the engine was still running. The steward got on and explained I needed to change for a bus to Villazon, so much for it being direct. He helped me with my bag and showed me the bus I needed to take. It is what is known here as a micro, kind of like a minibus, my big rucksack was tied on the roof rack and I ended up squeezed in the back.

 

I arrived in Villazon at 3.30pm and as soon as I got off the bus I was accosted by people wanting to sell me onward bus tickets from La Quiaca. As I needed a ticket and the price was cheaper than if I bought from La Quiaca I went to the office.

 

I had a scary moment when the guy said he needed to take my passport next door to finalise the ticket as his computer wasn’t working. I got a bit shrill and insisted I follow him especially as I had already handed over the cash. Thankfully it was all fine, but I’d rather overreact in this situation especially when my passport is involved.

From there it was a five minute walk to the border. I crossed a bridge then joined a queue for the Bolivian window first to get stamped out. I then moved along to the Argentinian window to get stamped back in. After this there is a bag search area, but the guy searching my bag was very lack lustre so it took all of two minutes.

 



From the La Quiaca border post it is a good 15/20 minute walk to the bus station. As far as border towns go it isn’t too intimidating but there isn’t much there. There also isn’t a lot in the bus station either and I had a lovely six hour wait until my bus at midnight.

 

I had enough Argentinian pesos on me to get some food and just down the side of the bus station were some food stalls where I got a couple of slices of pizza for 12 pesos. I had some teabags on me and was also able to get a cup of boiling water from one of the kiosks for one peso.

The wait was long and cold so I amused myself by people watching and there seemed to be a lot of people who must have been in Bolivia on stock buying trips as the woman next to me was re-boxing a load of toys and sweets.

 

Finally, midnight came and the bus arrived. I travelled with a company called Balut. The bus was comfy enough but it was freezing cold. Ended up sat next to an old Argentinian man from Jujuy and we had a bit of a chat, although my understanding was hampered somewhat because he had hardly any teeth and a big wad of coca leaves stuffed in the side of his cheek.

Due to the fact I’d been up since 5am I was suitably tired and fell into quite a deep sleep, so deep I didn’t realise we’d stopped or that the majority of the other passengers had got off the bus until I was woken by a checkpoint guard wanting to search my bags at 4am. I remembered reading that buses coming from La Quiaca are often routinely stopped at checkpoints for searching in case of contraband being brought over from Bolivia. At least being asleep meant I didn't have to get off the bus.

At 6am we got stopped again and still in the haze of sleep I was asked by another checkpoint guard for my passport. Unlike other times when it’s been a quick check and all done with he asked several questions such as where I had come from where I was going and when I’d been in Chile. Seemingly satisfied he moved on. We finally arrived in Salta at 8am.