I have bought a ticke to Salta. I was given to understand that the journey was 10hrs. Something got lost in translation as the trip took a long 19hrs. I don't mind the long journeys but when you're expecting make the trip in half the time it actually takes then it becomes long. When I bought the bus ticket the guy from whom I got the ticket left a lingering impression that I'd just been ripped off. He didn't smile as much as smirk as I handed over the money and looked far too happy with himself. There was something about the guy I didn't trust. I may not have paid over the odds but there was something about his expression that stayed with me.
The bus was supposed to depart around 10.30am but by 10.50 there was no sign of the bus. I bought the ticket from Balut tours who display a poster depicting a lovely luxury doubledecker coach for their Argentinian routes. Sometime around 11am a rickety, dirty single decker rumbled into the station. A woman came over to me and handed me a ticket and said 'you're on that bus'. The bus finally chugged out of town 50 mins late. It was 3hrs to Villazon on the border with Argentina. The countryside around Tupiza was spectacular, dramatic ravines and rocks of orange, purple and pink. But once we ascended on to a high plain it was flat all the way to Villazon. We had to change buses here so I collected my luggage and went looking for the bus to Salta. As soon as I got off the bus there was a gaggle of people asking me where I was going. At first I kept telling them I was going to Salta and that I had a ticket but I got tired of continuously repeating myself. It was incessant. The next time I was asked where I was going I replied "El Banyo!!", (to the toilet). That kept them quiet.
Some confusion followed in Villazon. I was expecting to pick up a bus for Salta here but instead I had to hand in my ticket, was issued with a new ticket and then told I had to walk through town to the border post, complete the border formalities on both the Bolivian and Argentinian sides and then walk up to the bus station in Quiaca on the Argentinan side. It was quite simple but the procedure hadn't been explained to me so it all seemed for a while puzzling for a while. At the bus station in Quiaca I again had to hand in this new ticket. I was now issued with two tickets. All very bizarre. The bus would depart at 9pm. It wasn't direct so I would have to change buses at Juyjuy at some point during the night. In the meantime I had about 5hrs to wait in Quiaca.
I got a bite to eat and then waited for what seemed an age. Finally 9pm came. We queued to board the bus in a torrential downpour. Lightning flashed and thunder roared. I was glad to get on that bus. Another 6hr journey took us to Juyjuy. I had been unable to sleep so by now I was very tired. We arrived in Juyjuy at 3am and now faced another 3hr wait before catching the bus to Salta
While I waited more buses from Quiaca arrived. A group of Irish girls and a lad stepped off this bus. I had seen them in Quiaca but hadn't spoken to them. God love them they stood out. I've heard how we Irish don't have much dress sense compared to other nationalities but this group were ridiculous. The lad looked like a leprechaun on tour dressed up in all the touristy 'inca' poncho, hat and jumper. It was obvious they had come down from Peru. Yer man had all the backpacker 'inca' uniform on. I don't know why so many of the backpackers buy all this gear poncho, hat, jumper etc. They look comical as they traipse around dressed up in this gear feeling as though they've somehow 'turned native' during their visit to Cuzco and Macchu Picchu. None of the locals wear this gear and, I suspect, have a right giggle at some of the loo-laas who dress up like that. The girls weren't wearing this gear but yet they still stood out in the crowd the way they were dressed. They just looked odd. I stayed away from them.
After what seemed an age the bus for Salta finally pulled up. By now I was very tired. Most people had been waiting through the night for this bus. Now we just wanted to get on the bus and sleep. A queue formed and we stood in line. Suddenly the Irish contingent pushed their way to the front brushing past an old woman standing beside me who was next in line. The old woman began to complain but, no matter, the leprechaun and banannarama pushed their way in all the same. I wanted to take a swing at the gobshite. The leprechaun was ignorant and arrogant. My temper was up. I was overtired and frustrated. I was still annoyed by that ridiculous looking fool as I took my seat. Thankfully I was so tired I fell asleep almos straight away. 90 mins later we were in Salta. I had been a long, frustrating night. No wonder the guy who sold me the ticket was smirking.
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