From Arica, Chile to La Paz, Bolivia: a belated summary of the past few days

Sorry for the blogging absence. After reading the below post, you’ll understand why I’ve been out of the internet loop for a while. Oh, and no, I didn't take these photos...

My bus left Arica at 8am on Thursday and I was prepared for the worst. I brought some snacks and if altitude sickness was going to hit again, I would at least be in comfortable clothes so I could lay down. Shortly after we left, the bus conductor served us all some tea and wafer cookies which went down fine. Whew -- no stomach freak-outs gave me confidence that I would be okay during the trip. I decided to eat some of the chips I brought because I hadn’t had breakfast and I was a little excited about them. They were pringles, my first American snack I’d had since traveling and I was really excited to taste something I’d enjoyed in the past.

Around 10am, our bus had really ascended into the mountains and we were starting to go through Luaca National Park, the place I had wanted to see so badly. Sadly, the higher we went, the more sure I was that I was getting altitude sickness again. My head started to hurt, my stomach got knotted up, and I wanted to die. I started wondering why I had willingly put myself through this again... was La Paz and this stupid park really worth it???

I leaned down to my bag to get out my camera and found that even the slightest movement sent my whole body into a new, excruciating spasm of pain. Ok, no camera. I tried just looking out the window but the light was causing my head to seer, as if I was Harry Potter and I’d just had a vision

about Voldemort (yes, I’m a geek and I just referenced Harry Potter.)

We got to the border crossing and I knew sitting still was not an option. I stood up and my legs were shaking... not good. I somehow managed to get through the line, get my passport stamped, and had to sit down on a bench before I could get back on the bus. A nice man started trying to chat with me, but I’ve found that I can’t do anything at all when I’m dealing with this altitude crap, let alone try to talk in Spanish. The man mentioned that I should get some mate de coca tea from the little street stand but I was nervous to get tea from a road stand... I wasn’t too keen on adding food poisoning to the list of things I was dealing with.

I got back on the bus and another nice man asked me if I was okay. I told him that I was not okay at all, that I wanted to die, but thanks for asking. He handed me some pills and said I should take one. Now, one might ask why I was weary of drinking tea from a road stand but was okay taking pills from a complete stranger... All I can say is that feeling like death makes you not

think straight sometimes.

As we drove away, I looked out the window to see the main focal point of the park, the lake, and was really really sad that I hadn’t taken one photo or hadn’t even been able to enjoy it. What a waste.

We drove half a mile to the Bolivian side of things, I got my passport stamped again, and my new friend, the drug dealer from the bus, stayed with me while we walked back to the bus. I asked him if he knew of a bathroom nearby because I was going to vomit in approximately 2 minutes. He brought me to a bathroom, paid the 1 boliviano for me to use it, and took my stuff for me.

2 minutes later, I had done what I had set out to do. I will never

eat pringles again.

So, we got back on the bus, I contorted myself on the bus seat so that I was curled up and kind of laying down, and fell into a half sleep state. I found that rocking myself back and forth helped a little, but I was still pretty miserable. In the background, I was lulled by the sounds of the violent movies that were playing. I would sometimes sit up and try to focus on them, hoping it would pass the time, but every time a car exploded or someone's head blew off, I found it had the reverse effect on me. Who knew...

4 hours later, we were in La Paz, I had thrown up on the bus (luckily in the bathroom) several times, and had lost one of my earrings. I got a cab to my hostel, checked up, got a cup of tea, and went to lay down at 7pm.

14 terrible hours later, I got out of bed and ate my first meal since the dreaded pringles. This time it stayed down and I began acclimatizing again. What a nightmare...