When we were waiting for the bus to Bolivia we met Celine, from France, and Bosh, from England, who were both traveling alone. Celine barely spoke any English but she was fluent in Spanish so over the next 4 or 5 days of traveling together we frequently found ourselves having conversations in Spanish which helped us improve greatly. Its interesting having a friend whos only language you can use to communicate with is a second language for both of you. The bus ride to Bolivia was experience that we were somewhat prepared for and thought we mostly understood when we bought our tickets. We were to ride to the border and wait in the bus until morning when the border control opened. Then after doing one border control we would change buses, in the middle of the desert, and continue on to the next border control. He assured me that everyone on the bus is doing the same thing…which was true, but we didnt find out until later that people from the other bus may not be changing, thus leaving a shortage of seats…but Ill get to that in a bit. What we failed to realize is that the stop, for about 3 or 4 hours, was going to be at about 15,000 feet and the bus driver was going to be nowhere to be found. The bathroom is filled with gas tanks so they dont run out, and the door to outside was locked. Not only did I wake up shivering, to find Dakin doing the same with only the top of his head coming out of his shirt, but I also felt sick from the altitude as this time we had not chewed any Coca leaves nor did I drink enough water. I had to wake Dakin to help me pry the door open so I could go to the bathroom….Vomiting would have to wait because it was too cold stay outside, and I knew if I could get some water in the morning that I would be OK.

Once morning rolled in people started piling off the bus and getting breakfast. It seemed we had stopped at the bus drivers house, or an acquaintance, so that he would profit off the selling of breakfast as well as a warmer place to sleep. Once I drank a 2 liter bottle of water i started feeling better, which is a good thing because the next step was an adventure as well.

When we finally arrived at our mid-desert bus change we got off and all got our bags. Being cautious of how our bags were put (or if) onto the new bus, the four of us hung back until all of the luggage was put on. When I realized that everyone was pushing their way onto the bus I yelled to Bosh, ¨there must not be an equal number of seats¨ by the time we came to this realization it was too late. The assigned seating that we had on the first bus had not carried over to the second and I have no idea how they figure ticket sales because some families had mother and father with three kids across their laps occupying two seats. There turned out to be one open seat which we gave to Celine and the Dakin, Bosh and I sat in the stairwell to the bus.

We arrived in Uyuni all in one piece.  Five hours  without seats had our backs a little sore but the local Bolivians sitting around us seemed to appreciate our posistive atitudes about the situation (as if we had a choice) and were accomodating with giving us bags to sit on and making room for us to lean back.