Bloqueos

At 11am we were eagerly sat on our backpacks at the side of the dusty road waitingfor a bus that would take us to a town we could only remember began with the letter V, and from there we were to get a connection to Sucre. Samaipata is such a small town that there isn´t a bus stop and we were told the bus could come any time around 11.30am and that when we saw it we shhould stand in the middle of the road and awave our arms around as the driver wouldn´t be expecting to pick up gringos. We had been sat there since 11am and at about 12 noon a local man speaking fluent English approached our now sandblasted faces and told us that there hadn´t been any pubic transport along here in three days- something to do with the government and what he had heard on his radio. He seemed a bit of a loco so we weren´t quite sure what to believe. Laura headed up the road to ask others what they had heard, but unhelpfully she was sent to the building next door at each place she arrived until there were no more buildings to be sent for.



Our patience had melted under the blazing sunshine by 12.30pm. By the time it reached 1pm it was clear the 11.30 bus was not going to pick us up, so admitting defeat we picked up our belongings and headed back to the town centre to figure out how on Earth we were going to leave today. We had been told about 4 night buses that pass through, but frustratingly everywhere that we had found to be helpful was shut for a siesta- the only possible thing to do was find somewhere to eat. We sat in a cafe just off the plaza called ¨Mad Cow¨and enjoyed a large jug of lemonade that we drew out as long as we could whist writing up diaries and generally passing the time with fingers crossed we would soon find a solution.



A couple of hours later and we returned to the Roadrunners guys who had given us the information the day before. This time we were greeted by a lady we had not met before and who was exceedingly helpful- much more so than the guys had been, giving us the addresses of four companies that would sell us a ticket on a night bus for that evening which avoided the need to change at the other village and would see us arrive there by morning. The first place we were sent was right back to pne of the buildings that Laura had already visited in search of information in the morning- the one at the end of the road. Once again the monosyllabic guy grumbled a resoundingly unhelpful "No" and turned his back on us without any more information. Our patience was wearing thin.



We annoyingly huffed back to town again to find another agent who thankfully could help us- but by now it was too late in the day to book the damn ticket! The bus from Santa Cruz would have left the station just 15 minutes ago and so we were stuck here for another day. I was beginning to clench my fists under the table when the phone call she to the bus company to secure tickets for next day ended abruptly- we weren´t even able to go tomorrow. It seemed the crazy guy from earlier wasn´t so crazy after all- we had been stranded by a series of lorry strikes that had placed blockades around the highland towns- no-one was able to get in or out of any of them and we were to be stranded until Friday at least. She agreed to try again tomorrow for us and we just had to keep our fingers crossed.



We headed back to our hotel where to the owner´s delight we booked in for the next two nights at least- potentially the unforeseeable future. In our extra 2 and a half days we were free to arrange some lovely outings in the area- but our next pay check was not due in the bank for another four days- we had just enough money to sleep and eat so a pricey trek in the National Park was out of the question. We were stumped for ideas- we had eaten in every restaurant, gone online in the one internet cafe far too many times already and were getting to know all the locals by which shops they owned. We knew the little town like the back of our hands- maybe it was tme to get a job here?!



I don´t think that there has been a single moment in the last 6 months that we culd say we were bored, but for the next two days we certainly came close. The first day was not so bad- having the hotel available for the whole day we indulged in a long lie in, planned further engagement parties and wedding details and lazed in the pretty garden on the comfortable hammock. The greatest adventure came when Laura tried to use the incredibly dangerous gas stove. An appliance that would certainly be banned in the UK- the owner set the huge flame going when he connected a gas bottle to the rusty counter with a very dodgy hose pipe. The appliance hissed into life, and when he dropped the match from a nervous distance the flames rose high enough to take his eyebrows off. Apparently Laura struggled to stir her porridge continuously whilst keeping the skin on her arm intact as the violent heat burnt the oats to the bottom of the visciously bubbling pan. I was calmly relaxing in the garden when she came screaming out to get me to help her control the flames- she had tried to turn the appliance off and the flame burst from the switch she had used, turning the dial into a flame thrower with fire shooting out and almost touching the roof. I shouted for the owner who came running to our aid- threw water across the flames to dispell them for long enough to try and fiddle with the dial and control the seeping gas. When he finally turned the gas bottle of at the other end we collapsed into nervous hysterics as he mutter the understatement "poco peligroso".



The next day was not so easily spent. We had to be out of our room in the morning and could only think of the internet as a distraction- rains through the night had turned the streets to muddy paths and the grey skies and chilly breeze made spending time outside less inviting. Halfway through a long to-do list we had constructed in a hope to make the most of this dead time a girl next to Laura told her she had been on the internet too long and that her friend was waiting- half shocked I apologised and hurried to finish what I was doing, though Laura was a little more frustrated by the rudeness of the girl when we left the internet 5 minutes later- we had been on a productive roll and who was she to tell us we had been there too long?! After wandering around fairly aimlessly and buying another cup of coffee so we might be able to sit in a cafe we really felt time beginning to drag. The following 5 hours passed slowly before we returned to the side of the road and eventually boarded our long anticipated bus to Sucre- it had better be good!!