conversating with crocodiles

Supposedly, La Paz is home to the world's most dangerous road. Supposedly, this road can only be visited by mountain bike.

This is a lie.

La Paz does have the world's most dangerous road, however, mountain bike isn't the only way to see it.. It can can accessed by a double-decker city bus on the 22 hr drive to Rurrenabaque, Bolivia. There have been several near death experiences I've had traveling on South American buses so far, like the time in Ecuador when we ran into a wild animal and busted the fuel tank, almost drove off the cliff in Peru, but this was another encounter where it seemed just as threatening. Especially, when the roads are mere mud and gravel pits with open holes, about as wide as spaghetti noodles with no definite lane so everything is on-coming traffic, and guardrails are about as foreign as toilet seats. You'd think that driving around mountains with a 4,000 meter drop would be at least be paved. Ha!! Forget about it..

Since the drive is insanely long there is only one bus that leaves at 11:00am. I get to the bus terminal at 10:30am and buy my ticket wait for the bus. And wait.. And wait.. 8 conversations with 8 different people I finally get told that the bus is running late. Well no shit I want to say to everyone who enlightened me with this useless bit of information, but instead I wait on the curb with some guy trying to sell me a camouflage hat while I eat my day-old Indian curry. 2 hrs later the bus finally arrives and I aboard with everyone else for the Pampas (Savannah wetlands).

The drive was breathtaking. The snow mountains close enough to touch, the sky the color of cold charcoal, the clouds rolling over the purple sun, and then just droning off to sleep by the racket of spinning tires on loose, rickety gravel. Although my knees were scrunched in-behind the seat of the 4ft tall woman who decided to recline her seat all the way back, I wouldn't have traded my spot with the view for nothing.

About 5hrs into the drive we all get asked off the bus while the police search everyone for drugs. Great I think. Even though I never have anything I'm always the one who gets asked the most questions. But this time was different, the police officer just asked

Le gusta Bolivia?

Claro! I replied with glee as I got back on the bus.

The Cordillera Real is the major mountain range that Bolivia has. On one side of the mountains it is dry and cold, on the other side is one damp, humid, sweat swamp with a plethora of wildlife. The climatic change is not shy. I went from layered sweaters and long socks on the bus to stripping down to just my undershirt and windpants as soon I got to Rurrenabaque at a shocking 4:45am the next day.

The thing I hate about traveling in these countries is that if you want to see anything you pretty much have to join a tour which means as soon as you get off the bus, even if it is 4:45am, people will bombard you with

Hola! I have tour. ¿Habla Español? Mas barrato para mi amiga... Ven! Ven! I have...


No gracias. No necessito, ahora.. I politely respond when all I want to say is I just got off a 22 hr bus ride and you are blocking my way to take a piss..

Anyway, long story short, I tag along with 4 German dudes and a French couple for three nights in the Pampas. It is about 3hr off-road adventure in a 1988 Land Rover driven by a guy who would make a phenomenal getaway driver. Off we go slashing through mud, barreling along loose gravel and rocks the size of footballs. The road was barely visible due to the dust and we almost ran over 3 people on motorcycles. It reminded me of driving the backroads of Mississippi..

After the drive we hopped in a little speedboat and cruised another 3 hrs down the Beni river to camp. The Beni is basically a shallow, muddy, swamp filled with caymans, exotic birds, piranhas, and the infamous pink dolphins. It was really incredible to be surrounded by so much wildlife, but what wasn't thrilling was to be swimming in a thick pool of my own sticky sweat.

We got to camp late in the afternoon just in time for an early dinner and some beers. I stayed up talking with the German fellows for awhile until our guide Angelo told us to get some rest because we were going to go anaconda hunting in the morning..

The morning came as hot as a flame and was about as thick as southern molasses. The sweat dripped off my face like cheap wax as we followed Angelo through swamp land while he ate a doughnut and explained absolutely nothing about what exactly lives out in this crocodile & anaconda dangerland. After about 45minutes of following Angelo we ended up in this mossy area where he told us that this is where we can find anacondas and then walked off. Our amazing maestro of a guide, Angelo, literally leaves us white people out in the middle of a swamp to find anacondas on our own while he goes to sit under a tree! Here I am, in the middle of a murky reptile pond with water passed my knees looking for anacondas! The only thing I can think about is What the hell am I gonna do when I find a &#*^$* anaconda?!?

It occurs to me then that this is completely stupid. Luckily, everyone else formed the same conclusion so we huddle back into our little Gringo circle and instead of searching for anacondas we decided to go searching for Angelo since we didn't know where the hell we were!

We find Angelo and he says that since we aren't having any luck with anacondas we can go find poisonous cobras. Just when I think what we are doing can't get any dumber, it does.. As we are walking Angelo all of sudden jumps into the brush and pulls out this 2 meter anaconda and starts laughing like a wild ape. It seems like this is probably the first anaconda he has ever seen, much less caught. Angelo is so excited about his encountering of an anaconda that he forgets about cobra catching, which makes me excited. I don't remind him.

When we get back to camp we all take a quick siesta before Angelo loads us back up into the boat to go swim with the pink dolphins. I thought we were going to go to a spot in the Beni river that we hadn't been before, one that was perhaps a little more suitable for swimming. Not at all. I realize how silly I was for assuming that when he ties us to the same spot where we witnessed the sunbathing of caymans and piranhas jumping out of the water.

Nadamos! He says with a jolly grin.

Swim? I think. Here?

Before I have time to ask Angelo how safe this actually is the French guy jumps in without hesitation so I think, Well if he does it, then so do I. I jump out of the canoe into the khaki water and immediately feel the squish of mud and unknown animals underneath my toes. I see piranhas dancing in the distance, one of the Germans thinks he spot a crocodile underneath a nearby tree, pink dolphins are swimming arm lengths away from us wondering why the hell we are in the water, and Angelo is still in the canoe, eating a banana.

Oie! My nipple! Something bites my nipple!!
The Frenchman shouts. We all look.

My toe! one of the Germans then squeaks.
I think it bit my toe as well.


Angelo, are there piranhas in the water? I ask.

No. Sardines. he says as if we are crazy while everyone of us are holding different parts of our body in pain because of some unknown thing with teeth beneath the water.

It doesn't take us long before we are all back in the safety of the boat exasperated from the excitement of the day.

When we got back to camp all I wanted was to take shower. I was covered in filth, itchy with sweat and blood encrusted mosquito bites. All I wanted was to rip off my white shirt turned yellow from sweat stains and jungle dirt, and scrub my face with a Brillo pad. Instead, right when I was about to get into the makeshift shower, all the power went out, which meant no water.

NOOOOOOOO!!

To make it even worse I forgot to bring extra clothes. So that night I had to sleep in my mildewed swamp pants, syrupy yellow shirt, a face thick with waxy, brown sweat, while the mosquitoes hoovered around me because I also forgot to bring bug repellent;(

I woke up to the suffocating humidity at 5:00am and watched the sun come up with the relentless mosquitoes. By the time breakfast was ready I felt disgusting and starved. We all stumbled in together stifled by the morning sun and anxious for a filling breakfast, but instead, Angelo brought us out funnel cakes and spaghetti.
Again, I should have known better then to get my hopes up with Angelo.

After funnel cakes he took us to go piranha fishing. I wasn't too excited about this part of the trip because I absolutely detest fishing. However, I discovered that even though I'm terrible at bass or catfishing, I'm pretty darn good when it comes to catching piranhas:) The first one I caught came off the hook in the boat so my immediate response was to kick the fish out before I could take a picture. The second one I caught was much bigger and actually stayed on the hook, but I wasn't about to take it off myself, because like I said, it was a freaking piranha!! So instead I asked the crazy Frenchman if he wanted to play with it. The next thing I know the Frenchman is bleeding profusely because he somehow managed to put his finger in the piranhas mouth! Idiot!!



It didn't take us much longer after that before we started making our way out of the Pampas back into the town. Angelo rode on the roof of the red death wagon jeep, we encountered on helluva jungle storm, almost flipped over the truck in the mud, and then finally, got to the bus stop.

It was another miserable 22hrs on a bus that stunk of rotten sausage and armpits, no open windows, unbearably humid, and a seat that wouldn't recline. It took me about 5 hrs before I positioned my 6ft tall body into an origami shape that was bearable. With my head stuck out the window, I watched like a happy puppy, all the beautiful scenery around me, but anxious for a hot shower.