On to Bolivia!
I was in the far Northwest corner of Argentina and Bolivia seemed like the next logical destination. A short bus ride took me through amazing mountains to the border town of La Quiaca. The town itself wasn’t very interesting except that it seems to have been planned with larger expectations. The streets are wide enough to accommodate many more vehicles than I saw. The were big, concrete sidewalks lining the streets but almost not a person in sight. It is also at the northern end of Route 9, the national highway that runs the entire length of the country all the way to Ushuaia in the south. The altitude is over 3400 meters, so the town will leave you breathless in one way or another.
I got into town in the late afternoon and was met by a woman asking if I wanted to go to Bolivia. I am not sure what she was selling. Assistance, perhaps? A taxi ride? But I had read the border office closed at 4PM which didn’t leave me much time, so I grabbed a hotel. It’s been a long time since I crossed a land border on foot, but there was no way it wouldn’t be a long, difficult process and I thought some sleep and an early start would be important. I spent the evening scouring the internet for information about the border crossing, but I really couldn’t find any information that applied to land borders, only arriving flights. I was hoping a PCR test wouldn’t be necessary.
The next morning, I was having my breakfast (included with my hotel stay), and another guest asked if I was going to the border as that’s where he and his family was headed. I told him I was planning to walk across, but he was under the impression that wasn’t possible to do without an agent. He said he was going to the bus station to get some help with the border crossing. The bus station was just a block away, so I figured I’d swing by and look for an agent. But I didn’t find anyone. The woman from the day before wasn’t there. I suspect she just shows up when busses arrive from the south.
So I walked to the border. It was about a kilometer away.
The border was bustling with activity. There is a lane running parallel the road where people pushed carts carrying goods into Bolivia; beer and soda, paper products and concrete seemed to be the most common. Watching guys pushing carts full of concrete was very impressive, especially because they get those carts up to running speed and I think there had to be at least half a tonne of concrete on them. There was a single lane of carts running in each direction pushed by both men and women - and the lanes moved fast. Occasionally something would fall off a cart and hold up the line. It was really something to see. It seemed that most of the carts returning to Argentina were empty.
The border crossing offices were a series of trailers along the road. At the first trailer I found all the information I needed. In order to cross into Bolivia, I needed to complete my online paperwork for both countries. I needed a negative PCR test, proof of vaccination, and travel insurance that included Covid coverage. And I needed two hard copies of everything. Sadly, it was clear that I was going to spend another night in La Quiaca, but at least now I had a plan and it gave me a chance to see the crossing ahead of time.
I walked back into town while typing away on my phone looking for a place to get a PCR test. I walked past the clinic I’d seen earlier and a couple of tour agencies. I didn’t see any testing centers. About the only information I found was that there were bus companies that had been caught faking negative PCR test paperwork for passengers. That was interesting.
I found a tourist info desk in the park and hit the jackpot. She told me I could get a PCR test at the border. I sure hadn’t seen that when I was there, but it made sense. However, back at the border, I couldn’t find a testing center. I decided to ask one of the border guards. He was very friendly and walked me across the highway to a parking lot where he pointed to a small shed at the far end. The shed had once had a bunch of phone booths inside, but I bet it’s been a long time since there were phones inside. Now each booth has a chair where people sit to get swabs shoved up their noses.
Inside the testing center there were a few people sitting around. When I said I wanted a test, one of them put on a full body suit and fancy face shield in order to swab me. It seems like overkill since she wasn’t even wearing her surgical mask correctly when I first walked in. It cost me about $60 CAD and they told me they’d text me the results the following morning.
I checked into a hotel close to the border and decided to eat lunch at bus converted into a restaurant – it looked like a popular place to eat. The food was good and cheap. I didn't order, I just sat down and they brought me food - a mix of grilled meats and a couple of potatoes. There weren’t any outside tables, so I ate inside. It was a little smoky inside – the engine compartment is now a BBQ, but I didn’t have to worry about flies.
I walked back into town while typing away on my phone looking for a place to get a PCR test. I walked past the clinic I’d seen earlier and a couple of tour agencies. I didn’t see any testing centers. About the only information I found was that there were bus companies that had been caught faking negative PCR test paperwork for passengers. That was interesting.
I found a tourist info desk in the park and hit the jackpot. She told me I could get a PCR test at the border. I sure hadn’t seen that when I was there, but it made sense. However, back at the border, I couldn’t find a testing center. I decided to ask one of the border guards. He was very friendly and walked me across the highway to a parking lot where he pointed to a small shed at the far end. The shed had once had a bunch of phone booths inside, but I bet it’s been a long time since there were phones inside. Now each booth has a chair where people sit to get swabs shoved up their noses.
Inside the testing center there were a few people sitting around. When I said I wanted a test, one of them put on a full body suit and fancy face shield in order to swab me. It seems like overkill since she wasn’t even wearing her surgical mask correctly when I first walked in. It cost me about $60 CAD and they told me they’d text me the results the following morning.
I checked into a hotel close to the border and decided to eat lunch at bus converted into a restaurant – it looked like a popular place to eat. The food was good and cheap. I didn't order, I just sat down and they brought me food - a mix of grilled meats and a couple of potatoes. There weren’t any outside tables, so I ate inside. It was a little smoky inside – the engine compartment is now a BBQ, but I didn’t have to worry about flies.
I got the rest of my paperwork done that evening. I also bought some MORE health insurance that specifically covered covid. I don’t think it would have been necessary – I think a copy of the insurance I had (without covid coverage) would have sufficed. I doubt anyone was reading the small print. But I’d found some covid specific coverage for only $60 and I figured it was better safe than sorry. That evening, I was starting to worry a little about my PCR test coming back positive because I had a little bit of a scratchy feeling in my throat. But I was pretty sure I’d had covid 6 weeks earlier and it was unlikely that I’d have it again so soon.
In the morning the hotel provided an excellent breakfast. I had lots of coffee and tried to wait patiently for my PCR results. By noon I’d heard nothing, and I was starting to think I wouldn’t. So, back to the border yet again. I went to the testing center and told them I hadn’t received a text. It took them 10 minutes, but they found my results (thankfully negative) and they printed them in triplicate for me.
I still needed to upload the results to the Bolivian website to complete the online form. And then I needed to find a print shop where I could get everything printed in duplicate. The tourist information desk had told me where to get things printed, so I walked in that direction. I found a restaurant where I could open my laptop and finish my paperwork. It was extremely frustrating. The site was incredibly slow to load and occasionally stalled “the site cannot be reached”. My internet connection seemed otherwise fine, but I guess – like most government websites – bandwidth wasn’t a priority. Even worse than that, once completing the form and attaching my PCR test and a photo of myself, the form failed to process. I tried it three times without success. Then I decided to upload smaller file sizes. Still didn’t work. Then I tried way smaller file sizes. The files were so small that the PCR test was almost getting hard to read, but it worked! I put everything I needed to print onto a USB stick and went back out onto the street to find a print shop. I found one that printed everything and sold me a plastic envelope for the stack. They were printing the exact same paperwork for two other people. Seems like a solid business plan.
It was already 1:30 PM when I was finally ready to cross the border. Naturally I went to the first window of the first trailer to begin the process, but they said I needed to get the Bolivian immigration process done first and to come back when I had my paperwork stamped. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what they said. There were no English speaking agents at the border, so I admit that some of it remains a mystery. But I went to the next trailer and bumped into a woman looking for the same stamp I needed. She spoke a bit of English. She seemed to think we were at the correct window, but it was closed and there was nobody inside. She rolled her eyes and made a comment about them eating lunch too slowly. We waited about 20 minutes and then she noticed windows opening the next trailer over. She went to check it out and then waved at me to join her. An agent came outside and yelled at the crowd to get everyone’s attention. He went through a stack of sample paperwork as an example of everything we needed for the process. I followed along and tried to put my paperwork in the same order as he’d had it – two full sets of paperwork. Then I waited my turn at the window. The agent accepted my paperwork without any problems and took my passport. He motioned me aside and said to wait. The woman that I’d met earlier confirmed that we were just supposed to wait. That was when I should have reapplied my sunscreen. By this point my arms and face are pretty dark, but at that altitude the sun is absolutely brutal, and the tiny trees didn’t provide much shade. I was a little red by the end of the day.
I did see other tourists show up and attempt to cross without a PCR test and copies of their paperwork, they didn't get very far.
In the morning the hotel provided an excellent breakfast. I had lots of coffee and tried to wait patiently for my PCR results. By noon I’d heard nothing, and I was starting to think I wouldn’t. So, back to the border yet again. I went to the testing center and told them I hadn’t received a text. It took them 10 minutes, but they found my results (thankfully negative) and they printed them in triplicate for me.
I still needed to upload the results to the Bolivian website to complete the online form. And then I needed to find a print shop where I could get everything printed in duplicate. The tourist information desk had told me where to get things printed, so I walked in that direction. I found a restaurant where I could open my laptop and finish my paperwork. It was extremely frustrating. The site was incredibly slow to load and occasionally stalled “the site cannot be reached”. My internet connection seemed otherwise fine, but I guess – like most government websites – bandwidth wasn’t a priority. Even worse than that, once completing the form and attaching my PCR test and a photo of myself, the form failed to process. I tried it three times without success. Then I decided to upload smaller file sizes. Still didn’t work. Then I tried way smaller file sizes. The files were so small that the PCR test was almost getting hard to read, but it worked! I put everything I needed to print onto a USB stick and went back out onto the street to find a print shop. I found one that printed everything and sold me a plastic envelope for the stack. They were printing the exact same paperwork for two other people. Seems like a solid business plan.
It was already 1:30 PM when I was finally ready to cross the border. Naturally I went to the first window of the first trailer to begin the process, but they said I needed to get the Bolivian immigration process done first and to come back when I had my paperwork stamped. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what they said. There were no English speaking agents at the border, so I admit that some of it remains a mystery. But I went to the next trailer and bumped into a woman looking for the same stamp I needed. She spoke a bit of English. She seemed to think we were at the correct window, but it was closed and there was nobody inside. She rolled her eyes and made a comment about them eating lunch too slowly. We waited about 20 minutes and then she noticed windows opening the next trailer over. She went to check it out and then waved at me to join her. An agent came outside and yelled at the crowd to get everyone’s attention. He went through a stack of sample paperwork as an example of everything we needed for the process. I followed along and tried to put my paperwork in the same order as he’d had it – two full sets of paperwork. Then I waited my turn at the window. The agent accepted my paperwork without any problems and took my passport. He motioned me aside and said to wait. The woman that I’d met earlier confirmed that we were just supposed to wait. That was when I should have reapplied my sunscreen. By this point my arms and face are pretty dark, but at that altitude the sun is absolutely brutal, and the tiny trees didn’t provide much shade. I was a little red by the end of the day.
I did see other tourists show up and attempt to cross without a PCR test and copies of their paperwork, they didn't get very far.
Waiting at the border
After another 30 minutes of waiting, the guy came outside and called out names for people to pick up their papers. I collected mine and was happy to see the stamp, but he didn’t return my passport. I asked “mi passaporte?”, but he shook his head. I didn’t see any other passports or documents – I think everyone else was just using driver’s licenses or DNI cards. I figured I’d get it back at the next trailer. I went and stood in the next line to “exit” Argentina. Then I heard my name being called out again from where I’d just come, so I ran back, and that’s when he handed me my passport. That was good, but I lost my place in line at the Argentinian trailer. That was another half hour of waiting. But once at the window, the processing was fast and there were no problems. They told me to cross the bridge. It was already close to 3:30 PM but I didn’t think they’d close the border to anyone halfway through processing.
The bridge crossing wasn’t very exciting but it’s always interesting to see the contrast between two cities of two different countries separated by only a little river. I also saw people IN the river, crossing from one side to the other with boxes. I’m not sure if the border security is very tight there. I think there are a lot of goods carried back and forth without much oversight. I dunno…
I had to wait another 20 minutes on the Bolivian side for processing. I don’t even know what it was about. They didn’t ask me anything, just looked at my passport. Then one last office before being set free. On the desk in that office were stacks of papers. But my paperwork wasn’t there. They looked through all the stacks and never found it. I don’t know if it hadn’t made it across the bridge yet, or what was going on, but they took my name and passport number and fiddled around on the computer for 10 minutes and then gave me a paper with a QR code and instructions for declaring my hotels. I was confused at first, worried that it was a Covid quarantine, but he said no, just that it was necessary to declare where I was staying for the next three days. I hope I understood that right. You’d think they’d add instructions to the page, or explain the process, but no. So, I tried to declare my accommodations for the first few nights, but I had trouble. I hope it’s not important. But, I mean, it’s not like they can find me, right? Haha.
I spent my first night in Bolivia in a smelly hotel room overlooking the main square of the border town Villazon. And carnival was in full swing, so it was interesting. And very noisy. Bolivians know how to party.
The bridge crossing wasn’t very exciting but it’s always interesting to see the contrast between two cities of two different countries separated by only a little river. I also saw people IN the river, crossing from one side to the other with boxes. I’m not sure if the border security is very tight there. I think there are a lot of goods carried back and forth without much oversight. I dunno…
I had to wait another 20 minutes on the Bolivian side for processing. I don’t even know what it was about. They didn’t ask me anything, just looked at my passport. Then one last office before being set free. On the desk in that office were stacks of papers. But my paperwork wasn’t there. They looked through all the stacks and never found it. I don’t know if it hadn’t made it across the bridge yet, or what was going on, but they took my name and passport number and fiddled around on the computer for 10 minutes and then gave me a paper with a QR code and instructions for declaring my hotels. I was confused at first, worried that it was a Covid quarantine, but he said no, just that it was necessary to declare where I was staying for the next three days. I hope I understood that right. You’d think they’d add instructions to the page, or explain the process, but no. So, I tried to declare my accommodations for the first few nights, but I had trouble. I hope it’s not important. But, I mean, it’s not like they can find me, right? Haha.
I spent my first night in Bolivia in a smelly hotel room overlooking the main square of the border town Villazon. And carnival was in full swing, so it was interesting. And very noisy. Bolivians know how to party.
I drank a very yummy peach drink that was probably made with tap water… my digestive system was unimpressed. And that scratchy throat? Well, that turned into a sinus infection. Not to mention the sunburn. And I think maybe the altitude didn’t help. I spent the first few days in Bolivia sick. The trip from the border to Tarija (where I am now) was beautiful but also long and hot and nauseating. Tarija is at a lower altitude, so I noticed and improvement in the nausea when I arrived here, but I my digestive tract was angry with me and I was dealing with sinus congestion. At least I found a good hostel – extremely clean and very comfortable.
Food Stalls
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This was a BAD idea
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While the sinus congestion didn’t improve, I was feeling better after a couple of days of rest and was able to enjoy some of the carnival festivities in town. I put my phone in a ziplock and went to the main square where chaos ensued. People had water guns and water balloons. People were dumping buckets of water from buildings. Most people had aerosol cans of “snow” which is basically soap foam. Lots of beer, loud music and a party atmosphere that raged on for hours. I got hit with a few water balloons and sprayed with soap, but as I was unarmed, I got off pretty easy. That was February 28th, which I think was the official day of Carnival (everything leading up to it was preamble). March 1 was also a holiday, but it was much quieter. It seems that it’s a day to sleep in and eat barbequed meat – just a guess based on my observations.
And then it was time to discover the secrets of Bolivia. But that’s for another post.