A dozen dogs are fighting in the road and I swerve off between the pigs and the old ladies sat in the dust selling tissues and sweets. It's getting dark and this town feels seedy, but I have to find a bed here with a thick alpaca duvet or I'll freeze sleeping out at this altitude.
I'm haggling with the lady at the alojamiento and notice a grubby toddler playing in the dirt road, with cars dodging around him. I excuse myself and push my bike onto the pavement, lifting him to the pavement at the same time.
When I get back to the moto after looking at the dingy room a reeking, toothless old man is absently fondling it's mudguard with a big dribbly smile.
In the "restaurant", which is little more than the ladies kitchen, the soup is simple and tastes of only fat and potato, but the leg of lamb in it is satisfying if gristly.
The old man with the cowboy hat has filled my glass with beer again, and as I'm explaining that I'm a bit tired for a third glass, his head drops and he starts snoring.
This is the Bolivia in which the tourist coaches don't stop. The Wild West of the Bolivian Altiplano.
I'm haggling with the lady at the alojamiento and notice a grubby toddler playing in the dirt road, with cars dodging around him. I excuse myself and push my bike onto the pavement, lifting him to the pavement at the same time.
When I get back to the moto after looking at the dingy room a reeking, toothless old man is absently fondling it's mudguard with a big dribbly smile.
In the "restaurant", which is little more than the ladies kitchen, the soup is simple and tastes of only fat and potato, but the leg of lamb in it is satisfying if gristly.
The old man with the cowboy hat has filled my glass with beer again, and as I'm explaining that I'm a bit tired for a third glass, his head drops and he starts snoring.
This is the Bolivia in which the tourist coaches don't stop. The Wild West of the Bolivian Altiplano.
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