Villazon/Tupiza (Bolivia)

Kopce potazene zelenym sametem kolem Salty rychle vystridaji modrosede hory posypane 4m kaktusy. Prijizdime na hranici s Bolivii 3650mnm, prechod je trochu zmateny, ale probehne bez problemu. I kdyz si myslime ze jsme pripraveni, tak kulturni sok se dostavi okamzite. Nepresli jsme jen hranici z jedne zeme do druhe, ale do jineho sveta! Chaos, neporadek a celkove nizka zivotni uroven zacina hned par metru za carou. V autobusovem ´terminalu´ stojime uprostred mistnosti a misto aby jsme si kancelare obesli a zjistili co a jak na nas z 5ti okynek krici at jedeme prave s nimi aniz by vedeli kam presne chceme. Toto se jeste vystupnuje, kdyz se u prvniho okenka poptame na prvni bus do Uyuni a ostatni slysi kam chceme. Do Uyuni primo nejede nikdo, musime nejdrive do Tupiza, vsichni odjizdi ve stejny cas a za stejnou cenu. Vyborne konkurencni prosredi. Vybereme si tu spolecnost kde je videt na plakatu bus a nevypada jako absolutni troska. Nez nastoupime jeste se seznamime s Izraelci co jsou na tom uplne stejne jako my a tomu bordelu se spolecne zasmejeme.
Cesta jak jinak nezpevnena, dobre ze uz je noc a nevidime na svahy kolem nad ktere se kazdou chvilku naklonime. Sem tam zastavime a indianky v burinkach a 5ti vrstvach pestrobarevnych sukni vybehnou ven, pridrepnou pred bus a vykonaji potrebu. Obloha je tmave fialova a vsude kolem nas krajinu bez prestani bicuji blesky. Docela dramaticke privitani.
Uprostred noci dorazime do Tupizy, prekvapeni najdeme anglicky mluvici informace. Doporuci nam ubytovani a tak byly nase obavy z pulnocniho prijezdu do prvniho Bolivijskeho mesta zbytecne..
Rano vstanu a jdu hledat neco k snidani. Nikde nic nenajdu a jeste ke vsemu se po ceste zpatky v tomhle meste co vypada jak z divokeho zapadu ztratim. Potkavam indianky a ptam se na cestu, ale 3 v rade ani nezvednou oci a uplne me ignoruji. Naopak mistni jsou moc ochotni a snazi se pomoci. Plan dne je koupit listky na vlak a vecer je do Uyuni. Cesta trva pulku co busem a hlavne ma byt spolehlivejsi. Vime, ze pokladna otevira v 10. V pul 8 uz stojim ve fronte. Janca mezitim jde sehnat penize do banky, protoze tu neni bankomat (v bance videla jak od indianky co neumi psat berou otisky prstu:).
V 10.30 jsme rozhodli jit na bus pokud listky na vlak nedokazeme sehnat. Pocitame s tim, ze to stihneme protoze tu nikdy nic nejezdi na cas. Tak nejak vykomunikujeme, ze fronta ve ktere stojim je ta spravna, prodava listky jak na dnesek tak na pondeli (vlak nejezdi kazdy den). Priblizne za hodinu se objevi pani v brylych a cernych teplacich a lidi kolem me mi ukazuji, ze mam jit za ni a nechat si vystavit kartonek s poradovym cislem ve fronte. Je to jen propiskou nacmarane na kusu utrzene krabice, pan prede mnou ma uz listek s cislem 41. Tak jdu a reknu si o 42. Pani kouka a rika, ze az do 60ti je to rozebrane. Nastesti prijde pan co jsem za nim a potvrdi ji, ze tam opravdu cekam hned za nim. Po chvilce dohadovani s ostatnimi ve fronte me priradi k tomu panovi. Za dalsi hodku se otevre pokladna a zjistuji, ze poradi ve kterem stojime je jen poradi na dalsi poradnik. Dostaneme novy listecek a to je cislo ktere urcuje kdy mame jit ke kase. Mam cislo 22 a zacina se od 78. Vydat jizdenky 10ti cestujicim trva presne pul hodiny. Dohadovani, kontrola dokladu, kontrola pravosti penez, natukani veskerych info 2ma prsty a na vse dohlizi policista. Za dalsi 2 hodiny drzime v ruce listky hodnoty zlata. Strhne se prekrikovani a mensi zmatek, kdyz pokladnik oznami, ze listky dochazi a pokud nekdo chce jet musi si priplatit za vyssi tridu...


We arrive at the border with Bolivia at 3650m, crossing is a bit confusing but without any problems. Even when we think we are ready for the change the cultural shock hits us immediately. We didn´t just cross border between two countries but between two different worlds. Chaos, disorder and poverty can be seen only few paces behind the border. We stand in the middle of the room in a bus ´terminal´ - people from 5 small windows scream and shout at us to go with them not even knowing where we want to go. This increase even more when they find out where we want to go. There is no direct connection to Uyuni so we have to go to Tupiza first stay over night. All the buses leave at the same time for the same price - great competition environment.
The road is unpaved (we didn´t expect otherwise), good that it´s dark and we cannot see the slopes around us as we swing above them. Once in a while we stop and local women in bowler hats and 5 layers of colourful skirts run out squat and make what they have to do. Sky is dark violet and landscape everywhere around us is whipped with lightning without stop. Quite a dramatic welcome.
In the middle of the night we arrive to Tupiza and surprised find open English speaking information.
I get up in the morning and go to buy something for breakfast. Cannot find anything and get lost on the way back in this town that looks like from a western movie. I ask the indian women for a way but none would talk to me. On the other hand the locals were very nice and willing to help.
Plan of the day is to get a ticket for an evening train to Uyuni. The journey is supposed to take half the time than the bus and the service is more reliable. We were told that the ticket office opens at 10am. At 8 I am in the queue with 40 people in front of me. Jana goes to get a cash advance as there is no ATM here (and she saw how people that couldn´t write were giving their fingerprints to access their account).
After a while I find out that the queue I´m in is the correct one - tickets for tonight and for Monday (train doesn´t go every day). After an hour a lady in black tracksuit appears and people around me tell me I should go to her and ask for a piece of paper with a number scribbled on (waiting number). The guy that was here before me has number 41. So I go and ask for 42 - she looks at me and says not possible, she handed out 60 already. I am saved by the guy in front of me who confirms I was really there and just didn´t know I should ask her for a number. After a moments of haggling I am assigned same number as the guy who helped me. Ticket office opens in 1 hour and I find out that the number I was assigned is just a number for another queue to get another piece of paper (this time printed). Now I get number 22 and the count starts at 78...To issue a ticket to 10 people takes exactly half an hour. Haggling, control of documents, control if the currency is not fake, typing with 2 fingers and all of it double checked by policeman. In next 2 hours we hold a tickets worth the gold. Outcry rises as the guy issuing tickets announces that the tickets for lower classes are running out...