This post is really mostly about our crazy hitchhiking experience from Paraguay to Bolivia. It's more text than pictures, but those who read it, will be amused. Duane did a great job of writing it!!!
But first, just a wee bit on getting into Paraguay and the the capital city:
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| Decorations for the May 15, 2011 200th anniversary of their independence were still everywhere. |
I was anxious to get out of Brasil and into Paraguay and be legal again. So, even though I was not feeling great after my encounter with a bad bug (from that really tasty salmon), we packed up and got on one of the urban buses that goes between the three border towns of Paraguay, Brasil and Argentina. The plan, of course, was to stay on the bus as it went through the Brasilian check point and get off on the Paraguayan side to get stamped in. Everything went fine until we handed our passports to the Paraguayan immigration official. He asked us where we had been since we had been stamped out of Argentina (5 days earlier). I told him that we learned that it was possible to use these urban buses and visit any of the three cities so we decided to spend some time in Foz do Iguaçu. The official was not amused and explained that it was a problem not to be stamped into a country for any length of time. He said we would have to go back and get stamped into Brasil. We knew that wouldn't be so easy. These are the conversations that would be interesting to record. I know he stated his position a couple of times -- and I stated ours -- and Duane and I both tried to look very innocent and naive and cooperative. After a few minutes of this he sighed, shrugged and stamped us in the Paraguay. Whew!
In both geographical size and population, Paraguay is one of the smallest countries in south america. We spent several days in the capital of Asunción (population of 1.5 million). In addition to nice conversations with travelers and locals, the most important thing we did was to find used clothes to replace some patched and holy things that we should
not have been wearing.
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| Two pairs of jeans and four shirts came to 75,000 guarani (about $18). |
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Next we spent a few days in Filadelfia, about 7 hours north. We were now in the Chaco - a sparsely populated, hot and semi-arid lowland region. But given the recent rain, we were also in the middle of a lot of mud!
Mennonites immigrated here 80 years or so ago from Russia where
they were persecuted after Stalin came into power. They immigrated
there much earlier after being persecuted in Germany. They believe in
non-violence so have been the easy target of oppression since splitting
from the Catholic church in the 1500s. Many were killed due to their
beliefs, by both Catholics and Protestants. Very sad. As a result,
they migrated repeatedly and have colonies all around the world. Many
apparently have retained their native language (German) which is the
case here. Many of the first settlers to the Chaco died
due to the extreme heat and low rainfall, but many survived and
prospered through hard work. They are a tight-knit community and the
town seems to be well run. It is clean and the people are friendly.
Without dogs running loose everywhere. And they have peanut butter!!
We hadn't had peanut butter since Verna's sister brought us some from
the US, 6 months ago.
And here is where the hitchhiking story takes over:
Saturday, May 26, 2012
A day in the life of Duane and Verna's travels.
Verna and I had spent 3 nights at the Florida Hotel in Filadelfia, Paraguay. The hotel was run by the Mennonites and was nice. This day we got up around 7am, a bit earlier than normal, since it was a travel day. VernaStretch did her core strengthening exercises and writing. I did my extensive stretching and stomach exercises (5 minutes worth). We went to the buffet breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Afterwards we finished packing and paid our bill. The hotel person left a zero off the Visa bill, which I didn't catch until a bit later so had to go back and correct it. She was very appreciative.
I wanted to hitchhike to the next town, but it was raining and VernaNo wasn't looking forward to getting wet. We checked the weather report online which showed 1mm of rain for the day – not much -- so Verna agreed to hitch it. We left the hotel around 10am and walked to the northwest end of town, where the road leaves. We made a sign reading “Mariscal” -- the town approximately 75 km north -- where we needed to get our passports stamped out of Paraguay. Mariscal is several hundred km from the border but there are only a couple small towns in between. This is the Chaco after all. We spent the next 2 hours watching cars drive by. People would often gesture indicating they were not continuing on. A couple people stopped to chat briefly – the first one told us that if we moved down the road about 100 meters, we would have a better chance of getting a ride. She said people stop at the tire repair place to fill up their tires before leaving town. We followed her advice, but saw only one car pull in. Afterwards, it headed right back into town. Of course. There was a big dog there with two different color eyes. When we first arrived it growled at us under its breath, but later came over to hang out with us. I ignored it but VernaPet couldn't help herself (she never can) and started petting it. Things often goes wrong when she does this, and sure enough, the dog suddenly jumped up on her, getting Verna's coat all muddy, and seriously irritating her. VernaBoss then did that thing were she walks into the dog to show that she is in charge and to get it to back off. I guess it worked. After a bit, the dog wandered off, quite sure, I imagine, that it was still the alpha male of our little pack. Another person on a motorcycle stopped, saying it was good we had a sign but that we would have to be patient. Yes, we know. A bit later another person stopped to say that not many people drive to Mariscal this way since this stretch of road is unpaved (and clearly very muddy after it rains). They apparently drive south from town to intersect with the main road going north. Just great.
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| Hitchhiking on the (wrong) muddy road. |
So we grabbed our packs and walked the 1 km or so to the other end of town. On the way, a drunk guy pushing his bike through the mud tried to befriend us. Once we got to the edge of town and stuck out our thumbs, two cars stopped immediately. The 2nd one was going part of the way to Mariscal, so we jumped in. The driver and his passenger were pastors of some Mennonite Evangelical Church. I never thought of Mennonites as being evangelical. I thought they just wanted to be left alone to practice their religion. The driver was quiet but the other guy was very talkative. I couldn't understand a lot of what he and Verna were talking about, but I did catch when he asked why we were hitchhiking instead of going by bus, and Verna replied that it is a good way to meet people. Later in the conversation he said it is better to seek the things of heaven than the things of earth (referring to our travels, I guess). Other than that they didn't try to convert us. They dropped us off at a bus stop after 30 minutes or so, waved and went on their way.
A lady at the bus stop said a bus was coming in 10 minutes but it didn't go all the way to Mariscal. Fortunately VernaBrain was holding our sign out and a car stopped, offering to give us a ride there. We hopped in the back seat and off we went. They had music on so there wasn't much conversation to be had. About 30 minutes into the ride we got a flat, but the two guys put the spare on in record time. After another 30 minutes or so they dropped us off at the immigration/customs office in town. We gave them 20k guaranies (about $5 US) for gas and walked through the muddy side road to the immigration building where they stamped our passports. We then walked over to customs but they said they didn't need to see in our stuff (they don't care what you are taking out of the country). They offered us chairs to rest if we wanted. We asked about hitchhiking to Bolivia, but were told no more trucks would be going that way until Monday (it was currently 3pm Saturday). We sat outside, ate and watched what was going on. There were two buses that had come from Bolivia. Everyone had to get off and carry their luggage to an area where it was being inspected. There was no x-ray machine, so they lined up the luggage and a dog sniffed it for drugs. Then the customs guys carefully went through each piece. One family had about 6 large suitcases carefully wrapped with clear plastic and tape. The buses were parked in the muddy area adjacent to the building and the poor dad was quite muddy and tired after lugging those large suitcases back and forth. The customs guys cut the plastic wrap to inspect the contents and then the owners taped them back up. Before passengers could reboard, the customs guys and sniffer dog inspected each bus.
It was all quite a show. In addition to all the passengers and drivers standing around and the 8 or so customs guys doing their thing, there were about 6 poor looking kids with no shoes hanging around hoping to get food or money from the passengers. Verna commented that mud feels good on bare feet. I had to agree.
Verna and I were aware that there is a bus that goes to Bolivia daily from Paraguay. It arrives in Mariscal at 2am from the south, and continues on to Santa Cruz, Bolivia. It is a 24 hr ride that costs 250k G (guaranies). Previously when we talked with that bus company (twice), we were told they charge the full fare even if a person goes just a portion of the route (as we wanted to do). However, Verna struck up a conversation with a guy at the customs building who works for the bus company. He said he would charge us 120k G for a ride to Villamontes (about 12 hrs away in Bolivia), or 80k G if we started from La Patria, approx 150 km to the north. He said he's friends with the owner of the bus company and gets to bend the rules a bit. Verna and I talked it over and decided to try to hitch to Patria, even though it was getting late. This would save us 40k G each on bus fare. We made a sign and walked to the bus shelter on the main road. No luck. After an hour it was getting dark so we gave up on that idea. I went to a small market nearby to get some food. The power went out while I was there and all was dark until they got a flashlight. It was difficult to find what I wanted and pay for it.
When I got back VernaSweet suggested we look into getting a hotel, stay the 2 nights and hitchhike Monday. I know she would have rather taken the late night bus, but she knew I wanted to hitch (she often puts my desires first). I walked over to a nearby hotel (still in the dark), and found someone to talk to after searching around for the reception office. I got the particulars (60k G per night, etc) and went back to discuss it with Verna, still at the bus stop. We decided to do it, lugged our packs over there, got the key and went to our room. A small bare room with two beds and a chair. Musty smelling. There was a window that had a screen. But it was a fixed window. Great. Why put a screen on a window that isn't intended to open? This place is in the running for the worst-place-we-stayed-on-our-trip award. No internet, of course.
So here I am writing this, while eating bananas and peanut butter.
Monday, May 28, 2012
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| On our way out of the hotel. Muddy!!! |
We got up at 6:30, and were out the door an hour later after eating, etc. We couldn't find the room key so spent time searching through our packs for it. It's possible we left it in the door and someone took it during the night. The hotel lady didn't seem too worried about it, so off we went. When we arrived at the customs building after the 1 km walk back, we expected to see a flurry of activity with trucks being inspected and getting on their way, but not the case. Not much was going on. Two buses from Bolivia arrived and went through the same process we witnessed on Saturday. As we were waiting around, we talked with a skinny truck driver who said we could catch a ride with him, but he thought it would be mid-day before he'd get the okay to leave. They signed him out around 11:30 and we headed out.
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| Miles of miles of this is The Chaco. |
I sat in the passenger seat and VernaCramp sat in the back of the cab. Our truck was traveling with another truck of the same company to Santa Cruz, Bolivia, carrying cigarettes. A French couple was hitchhiking in the other truck. The two lane road north had very thin asphalt (just a few centimeters thick) over dirt, so wasn't holding up well, so we averaged about 40 km/hr. They stopped to buy groceries and the driver of the other truck bought a half-case of beer, which he drank as he drove. Every so often an empty can would fly out his window. We stopped periodically so he could drain himself. By the time we got to the boarder it was getting dark. We talked with the French couple. We learned that she is a lawyer and he works for a company that works in building management and energy efficiency. After about an hour the drivers got final check-out of Paraguay. Unfortunately our truck would not start. The starter motor would turn but not engage with the flywheel. Our driver crawled under the cab several times, tapping on the solenoid hoping to get it to work, but no luck. He ended up borrowing a steel cable from another driver and using the second truck to pull our truck, to “push start” it.
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| Duane and the French couple shooting the breeze with a Bolivian truck driver while we waited for our drivers to get through customs. |
On the Bolivian side of the border, a new asphalt road is being constructed but it is not completed. Going to Villamontes was partly on a muddy road (20 km/hr) and partly on new asphalt (80 km/hr). Around 8:30 pm we arrived at the Bolivian immigration building (really more like a hut). No one was there, so we called out an “hola”. A not so happy “quien es?” (who is it?) was the response from somewhere in the darkness. We had read on the internet that the guy there can be a real ass, and he sure was. He yelled at the two drivers for carrying hitchhikers and scolded us, saying we would not be able to enter the country because we didn't have all the required documents. I'm sure it was all a way to make himself feel important. He also made it clear that we were aware that the Bolivian government was not fond of the US government. The French couple were spared his wrath because they aren't required to get visas. After a while he calmed down, handed us the visa application forms and had us fill them out. We gave him our documentation and forms and the required $135 USD each. The cashier lady carefully inspected each bill, holding them up to the light. She rejected 5 or so of the ones we had given her. We told her they came from a bank ATM, but that didn't matter. Each bill had to be new with no blemishes. We got more out, but she rejected them. On the second round of taking USD out of our money belts, she was able to find enough that would pass. We had hoped to avoid them seeing how much we were carrying in case they hit us up for more. Thankfully they didn’t.
Movie - Duane, Verna & the driver in the cab of the truck.
We got back on the road, happy to be away from that place. We arrived in Villamontes around 1:30 am. The driver of the second truck told us that the immigration guy had fined both drivers $100 for carrying passengers. This apparently happened while Verna and I had gone to fill out our visa forms. The French guy said he had seen the drivers getting money out, and he believed their story. He agreed to pay his driver the $100. Verna and I were very skeptical. These drivers have done this route and dealt with the border guy many times. One would think they would know if it's forbidden to carry passengers in Bolivia. On the other hand, we did not want to stiff our driver if the story was true. We decided to pay him $60, which is what the bus would have cost us. The French couple didn't have the $100 USD with which to pay their driver, so we lent it to them it. They paid us back the next morning with Bolivianos after having gone to the ATM.
Verna and I hope the drivers were telling the truth. If not, maybe there is karma and the bills we gave them were in fact counterfeit.
Duane
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| VernaFern "driving" the truck. |
