Border Crossing: La Quiaca, Argentina into Villazon, Bolivia

Argentine side of the Border

I had not gone through the trouble of getting a Bolivian Visa like my hiking partner had while in the United States, so I had to get one at the border. I read many diffferent blogs about crossing the border, and each one said something different. Even the Bolivian Consulate website said something different, so I am going to assume that each border crossing is its own special snowflake, and just give you the rundown of my personal experience.

Since Mendoza, I had been reading up on what I needed at the Bolivian border, and was able to put most of it together in Salta.

What I handed over:
- 2 copies of my bank statement
- 2 passport-sized photos
- 1 copy of my passport
- 1 copy of proof of yellow fever shot
- $160 in USD (actually had $200 and the border officer gave me change in Bolivianos)
- Passport (original, expires in 2024, they request it be valid for at least 5 years and have at one full page free for visa and entry stamp)
- A general understanding of the Spanish language

Items I didn't have, and the border control officer supplied:
- Visa Application

Items I had and the border control officer didn't ask for:
- Proof of yellow fever shot (original)
- Itinerary while in Bolivia (on my phone)
- Proof of onward movement (plane ticket purchase confirmation on my phone)
- Proof of place to stay (hostel confirmation on my phone)

Items for border crossing

Fidgit already had her Bolivian Visa, but had overstayed her 90 days in Argentina, so we decided to cross seperately. The border control officers immediately knew we were together, but didn't seem to care. Because I got stamped out of Argentina so quickly, I walked into Bolivia - right past the window that I needed to stop at. Thankfully, there were some helpful people nearby I could ask for directions, and I returned to the window sheepishly. I was the only one there that Sunday morning, and I imagine that may not always be the case, especially if you arrive by bus. The original officer I talked to called over the other one, and they joked with me about it being such a cold morning. I then handed over my passport and the papers I had, and they gave me the visa application to fill out. One of the border officers came out to warm up in the sun, and we chatted while the other one processed my 'request' and handed back my passport, now with a Bolivian Visa and 90-day stamp in it.

This was way easier and less hassle than I imagined it to be, though at one point he did ask if I had another $100 bill (mine had gotten a bit worn from being in my backpack for 7 months). I didn't, and he seemed to be alright with that. I was glad to have everything I may have needed, even if they didn't ask for everything, and I believe greeting them with a smile helped as well.

We made it! The bridge between
countries

Getting Gear in South America

Notice holes in nearly everything,
except my peanut butter jar.

If you ask anyone who lives in and/or has traveled to South America, you will likely hear similar tidbits of advice from them: "Make sure you have US cash; the mail system in most countries is terrible/non-existent; be sure to bring enough gear, because gear is expensive and/or non-existent."

If you ask us at this point in our trip, we would likely say the same as those who came before us. As a person who had never been south of the United States border with Mexico before November 2015, this trip has been eye-opening in more ways than I'll ever be able to explain. This blog is going to focus on my (and our) experience getting new gear in and to South America.

Gear falls apart

Fidgit and I were able to purchase in the US and bring down much of what we needed our first season (November '15 - April '16). The only issue we had was with socks and shoes - we went through multiple pairs each. Thankfully we were in Chile most of our first season, and were able to find and purchase overpriced-but-will-do-the-job-this-time shoes. We were also able to send ourselves gear via the Chilean bus system - which is oddly reliable. Okay, not so odd once you understand that many people don't own cars down here.

Winter is coming

On my way to get the gear, looking out the bus window

Where we ran into trouble with getting gear was near the middle of our second season (season two spans November '16 - November '17). As we neared northern Argentina in April, we were attempting to find someone who was willing to bring down some US gear for us, as we had once again purchased not great shoes and socks in Santiago to tide us over while we figured out what our options were. We decided to reach out to see if sending it to ourselves or finding someone to bring it was preferable - all our resources leaned towards finding someone to bring it down, because the tariffs we would have to pay in Argentina would be exorbitant, and that's IF the gear made it through customs. So we reached out to people we know who travel to and from the US with some regularity, and found a willing friend.

Hello again, Pacific Ocean

Unfortunately, after we had begun ordering and mailing new gear to an address in the states, unforeseen circumstances forced our friend to cancel his trip. Thankfully, we were at a spot where we had regular and useful wifi (not the norm in most countries down here, though it is improving), so we began a new search for someone willing to bring our stuff down. Fortunately, we've met many people, and our old gear mule was quickly replaced by our new one, Dan. He was heading back to my home state, and we immediately began re-routing items to my sister's house in Pennsylvania to be picked up and hauled down to Peru by Dan. Why would we ask a person who's technically three countries away to bring us our gear, you ask? DESPERATION. The nights were getting colder, my sleeping bag was wearing out, as were my shoes, socks, pants, shirts, you name it. Also, three countries away is much closer than multiple continents away. So Dan gathered the gear from my sister and brought it down to Peru, where I met him to catch up and retrieve it after approximately two days on buses and two border crossings. We met in Tacna, Peru - a border town with cheap, tax-free goods. Dan and I met up with his travel partner Justin, and we got a hostel room, as we would be there a couple days - I hadn't seen these guys since Santiago and wanted to catch up.

Dan, me, Justin.
The lovely lads who helped us out! (and me)

Dan, Justin and I were able to spend a couple days together before they continued northward, and I made my way back towards Argentina with new gear for Fidgit and me. This is where most of my trouble began, and I'll put these hurdles in list form, as there were many.

New Gear! 

-At the Peru/Chile border, the Chilean border patrol was staging a 'slow down.' Since they can't close the border, the were only allowing so many people through per hour. I waited for five hours in a line in the sun to get through, feeling bad for the people who arrived after me.

-Arriving to the bus station in Arica, I find the pass I need to cross to get back into Argentina is closed due to snow and high winds. Thankful I had made it across mere days before a blowing snowstorm, I was now fretting as to when I would make it back across into Argentina.

New bag for winter!

-Impatiently waiting out a far-away snow storm at a 4,000+ meter pass wears on me, so I spend only two days in Arica before deciding to bus up to San Pedro de Atacama - closer to the pass. Bus goes through Catamarca and I am warned of theives so I keep a close, but tired eye on my belongings after a night bus through a 4 am checkpoint from Arica to Catamarca. Make the bus to San Pedro and am told the pass will reopen Wednesday (it was Sunday).

-Buy bus ticket Tuesday for Wednesday morning, and the moment of truth arrives - I get on the bus and we go to the edge of town and sit for two hours to see if the pass is open. It's not, and I dejectedly return to my hostel. The bus driver says we will try again in the morning.

Stuck in line at the Peru/Chile Border

-Thursday morning, 8 am. I arrive at the bus station, get on the bus, and we once again drive to the edge of town and sit, waiting until 11 am. I see two garbage trucks, one dump truck and one bulldozer pass. I believe they are going to help clear the snow across the road, and concern enters my brain. 11 am rolls around and . . . the pass is open! We trundle up and up into the snow, then down to the Argentina/Chile border. The Chilean border guards seem to not be as slow at this border, and I am grateful our bus makes it through.

The cabbie in Chile- they love
The Simpsons down here.

-We careen down the other side of the pass into Argentina, with a steep series of S-curves along the way, carefully executed by the driver of the double-decker bus, and I am finally able to contact Fidgit at the Jujuy bus station to let her know I'll be in Salta around 11 pm. Taxi to where Fidgit is staying with no fewer than three stops by the cab driver to make sure the address I've given him is really there.

Gear retrieval success!!

So tired on the bus to San Pedro de Atacama

Another bus window view

Passing the time in San Pedro, waiting for the pass to reopen

Made it back to the Chile/Argentina Border!

Reunited, and with new gear!

Life and Learning on a Life-a-versary

I have friends, and I have friends that I’ve been through tough shit with. My friend Elise is one of the latter, and I believe we’ve both grown tremendously from what we've endured in life together, as well as separately, though I wouldn’t wish her journey on anyone. She does and always will hold a special place in my soul.

I met Elise in 2011, shortly after I began working for a wilderness therapy program in southern Utah. We worked on the same shift, though didn’t often interact, so I only knew of her what others mentioned: she’s nice, a quick thinker, an overachiever, next in line for a promotion, etc. Everyone’s got an opinion, right?

In late 2011, I began working nearly every shift with Elise, and it became a time of painful personal growth for me. Elise is a type-A personality, and she had high standards that I constantly felt I was falling short of. I would take the feedback we routinely gave each other and be overwhelmed by the constructive, completely forgetting the positive. I began to feel inadequate and at times victimize myself to the extent of blaming others - dangerous territory for anyone. Interestingly enough, it became Elise who was always there supporting me and offering helpful tidbits of advice. She would (and still does) make a disconcerting amount of eye contact, I felt self-consciously that she was looking into the depths of my soul.

We slowly became friends, sharing in the joy and stress a wilderness therapy guide lifestyle can bring. After working 8-day stints over multiple months together, I learned Elise was also going through a transitional time, including big life decisions like buying a house, applying to be a field director at our company, etc.

Jump forward another month or so to April 2012. I was headed into the field with Elise and two other guides when our truck rolled, and Elise broke her C7 vertebrae. Read my recollection of that here.

Elise’s life was thrown into a tailspin, as she was no longer able to use her body the way she’d been using it her entire life - first as a dancer, then a yoga instructor, most recently as a wilderness therapy guide. Darkness crept in as she struggled not only with pain and decreased mobility, but less personal independence and direction. She was restricted on what she could lift even after her vertebrae healed, making a wilderness field guide position out of the question. I tried to support her as best I could, visiting and helping when I could and we became closer yet after I was laid off. Thankfully she was able to find meaning and healing as she soul-searched. She talks about her recovery and her experience rediscovering her abilities here.

Elise and I are quite different, though over the years I’ve recognized our friendship isn't built on our differences, it’s built on similarities and our ability to truly see each other as people. Not who we want the other to be, not what they want to us to be, but to really see and be seen. I believe when people stop seeing each other for the true beings they are, or start putting on masks because of their shame of who they aren’t, is where the troubling struggles exist. I have pondered on this often along our walk thus-far, and keep coming to that same conclusion ,which I do my best to carry over to my interactions. I try to see people as individuals, not treat them as objects, and cultivate deeper, meaningful relationships.

Looking back on human relationships in my life, I’m slowly realizing that it’s the people who push and encourage me to be my best that stick in my memory as well as stay in my life. I feel like Elise and my relationship is the epitome of that lesson, and for that I am grateful. Not just grateful for the teachings I’ve had from her or others in my life, but also grateful for the future teachings and getting to experience them.

Goodbye, Hello, Goodbye.

Everyone has a different view on what goodbye means.  To some, it signifies a finite end, to others it's a temporary inconvenience.  Some people hate saying goodbye, others see it as a step along the process of life.  It can even mean something different at different times in life.

For me, saying goodbye to people can be tough.  I'm not the most outgoing person, and most of the close friends I've made over the years are currently scattered as far as the winds of life have blown them. I tend to brush goodbyes off as another step in the leaving process to avoid showing how I truly feel, which is gratitude for each person being in my life, sadness to be missing them for a period of time, and excitement/trepidation for the next step.

As I leave the U.S. for at least the next 7 months to begin the trip of a lifetime- exploring South America by foot- I try and take time to look back and be grateful for those who  I get to say goodbye to, who have been supportive of me throughout the last few years, as well as some who have been in my life longer. I'm a fortunate human in having friends who want to play outside with me, share their inner selves and stories, help me to grow as a person, or just sit and listen while I cry about unfair things in the world. I try to remember not everyone has that support, and my hope is that I can be as helpful to others as my friends have been to me.

In modern society, it seems as though we often push our emotions off until it's 'convenient' or 'better timing'.  I've seen it happen with others and (obviously) do it myself. I'm working on this, and believe I'm becoming better for the work put in. A huge thank you goes to everyone out there pushing/pulling/supporting/encouraging me to be a better person, it's you who's helped me become me!

I can't blame my loved ones for wanting the most out of life, even if its not as physically near to me as I'd like. I'm about to head as far away as I can to start my next adventure.  Some may think what I'm about to undertake is hard-and it will be in a way-but I feel the hardest part is being open and vulnerable. The soft ache in my heart will remind me of all my loves scattered across the globe.