the standard of bus to the bolivian border goed down significantly and my heart races a little faster as people board the regularly stopping bus to sell food. trigo (wheat) is advertised on billboards meaning its becoming rarer and the ability to eat, for me, less rare.
the houses have shrunk and look more volatile, the plants more tropical and the people are darker. clearly at the north of argentina we begin to glimpse the poverty in bolivi, this brings everything painted more colourfully and the small % of indigenous people in argentina can be found here.
the roads are still good and i know for me that i have got used to the comforts again, but i long for the other type of travel, to see the other side from what i know once again and i fel sad that i will revel in how cheap life will be.
...
well the roads are now rocks and dust, the air is hot and thin and similar to guatamala, the ladies especially,are wearing thick woolen, colourful layers of clothes and bowler hats.
wrinkled dark skin, ribbon plaited hair and the stares and comments from the men as you walk down the road.
sleeping is impossible and the headache constant and the altitude is not at its worst yet.
my breakfast a bag of hot potatoes and thick chilli salsa costs the equivelant of 16p with a fresh orange juice.
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