This further proves my theory that nothing in Latin America is made for the tall gentleman!

Ten days ago I arrived in lovely La Paz, Bolivia after 27 hours on a bus. I boarded the double-decker beast in Lima well aware of the tourture that lie ahead. The bus, engineered by a Brazilian company was clearly made by short people, for short people. If I have learned anything from my travels in Latin America it is that the greedy owners of bus companies pack so many damn seats into their busses (city or coach) that dangerous would be an understatement. It is not uncommon that I will board a bus here and be forced into a tiny back seat with my knees pulled up to my jowels and my bag uncomfortably stuffed in my face. This particular bus voyage was not so bad.

The day after my departure and only 20 short hours into a fantastic bus ride, we arrived at the Peru/Bolivia border at a town named Desaguadero, a name I will always remember. After standing in line and getting an exit stamp from Peru, I proceed to cross over the river which divides the two nations. Before actually leaving Peru, a robotic police officer of average stature and and strict facial features waved me over to his office while making small talk. Upon entering the building he learned that I am indeed a gringo from the loved/hated United States of America. He then proceeded inform me about drug trafficking and its serious implications while showing me photos of international travelers handcuffed next to mountains of cocaine and statuesque, shotgun-toting police officers beaming proudly over their captured contraband. I politely told him that I understood that such an act is highly illegal and that I neither possessed the listed items, nor did I intend to. He then decided to search my backpack and interrogate me about its contents and implied several times that I may indeed be one of those unfortunate travelers who get caught with drugs on them at the border. He asked me to empy my pockets and STUPIDLY, I revealed all of my cash on his desk, along with my iPod and a few miscellaneous items. I had just enough money to purchase a Bolivian tourist visa and as I set it down on his desk, time stood still for a second and I remembered that not all police officers in this part of the world are honest. To make a long story short, he stole 20 bucks from me and sent me on my way saying thanks for visiting and come back soon, with a smile on his face. I exited the building, counted my cash and instantly realized that I had been DUPED! Needless to say, I did not have enough money to pay for my visa and the police officer´s Bolivian cousin on the other side of the border was not sympathetic to my situation even though I explained myself. Thank Dog that I speak the language!

So I entered Bolivia enraged and alone. Great start to a new country, eh? Anyway, La Paz is a quaint little city with a mountain/colonial/indigenous feel to it. I already looked into working a long-term job here as a mountain bike guide but Evo Morales wants 1000 bucks for a work visa so I told him to take that visa and shove it, cuz I am already dropping some coin on this country! For the time being, I am tending bar at my hostel for a bed to sleep in and some scraps (really delicious) food. I am having fun and look forward to spending a couple more lazy weeks here before I figure out where I want to go next. I am told that La Paz has a way of sucking the passing traveler in and not letting go. I see what they mean.