Border Crossing: Salta to Tupizia

Crossing borders? Not so much fun. I had heard horror stories about the Bolivian border but it would take trying to cross it to realize what a bureaucratic nightmare some crossings can be. Jed, Matt, and I had taken an overnight bus from Salta to La Quiaca, the last stop in Argentina. We had followed all possible advice from locals and fellow passengers: getting my yellow fever shot and having the accompanying yellow card as proof of my vaccination, having photocopies of our passports, taking a midnight bus from Salta to arrive at 6am, just in time for the border to open, and crossing before things got too crazy, etc. Things went according to plan until we arrived to La Quiaca. From there, it all just started to deteriorate.

First, there are no signs from where you deboard the bus in La Quiaca, Argentina, to the border crossing with Villazon, Bolivia. So for anyone who might happen to read this before doing this crossing, here are some clues. When you get off the bus, walk to your right - downhill on a dusty road filled with hostels and hospedajes. At the end of the block, go left, walking straight til you hit some sort of high guarded military looking point. Don't be confused like we were... this is NOT customs. If you are facing this military base, walk to your right towards the gas station. When you reach the gas station, go left, walking straight and you will eventually hit customs. One might argue its easy... just follow the crowds. If you're sleeping on the bus, out of it, happen to lose your luggage ticket, and be the last one to leave the area (like me), it's not so simple. 

That's just to make it to the border. Crossing it is another story. To leave Argentina is just a matter of time. A slow line that doesn't seem to make much progress and locals that can bypass the line because they are just that - locals. But all in all, not the worst. Getting into Bolivia, especially as an American citizen is a bit more frustrating. To make a long, painful story short, Jed and I were told that we would each have to pay a $135 fee to enter Bolivia. Unlike in Argentina, this fee could not be paid using a credit card and Jed was told he could cross the border into Bolivia in order to use the ATM and draw out money for us, $135 in Bolivianos to be exact. After a good 30 minutes, Jed returned and we re-entered the line only to reach the window and find out that we could not pay in Bolivianos (the currency of their own country) but rather in US dollars. Jed once again crossed the border to the ATM, this time to draw out money in US dollars. Seeing how easy it was to cross without having to deal with their bullshit, I was tempted to do the same. When we had $270 in US dollars, we thought we were good to go. But no - a good two forms later, handing in copies of our passport pages, answering questions, and a bunch of hassling, we were finally given our temporary visas and passport entry stamps. No one ever checked my yellow fever card, but I hear that can also be a hit/miss so I wouldn't show up without it. 

Matt waited for us the entire time. The Australian gent that he is, he guarded our bags while we dealt with the border police and when everything was settled, we took a taxi up to the bus terminal. Trying to enter the terminal we were bombarded with women trying to get us on their buses to Tupizia, offering fares for the 2 1/2 hour ride for as low as 10 bolivianos (1.50). Instead, we opted to go with a taxi for 25 soles a person, too tired to waste anymore time in such a dingy town. 

The taxi, though tight with 5 of us, was a great decision - even with having to wait for some rubble to be cleared for about 20 minutes - we arrived at El Mitru hotel about an hour before the bus even arrived. By that time, we were already in our room, showered, watching cable TV and happy to just be settled again.