We searched for a bus to take us to Tacna originally, but as we changed aisles, all the stands that sold tickets to Bolivia stood before our eyes, each messier than the last. We walked past the sellers that shouted "La Paz" while looking for a cheaper option and just at the end of the aisle, a humble company caught our eye, ran by a woman with a baby and what looked like her husband. She quickly sold us tickets for the following morning for 10.000 CLP each and told us to be there 10 minutes before departing.
Next morning we woke up still a little nervous about climbing over 4000 metres and headed to the station. We arrived at 8:30 am, half an hour before leaving and gave her our passports for the lady to register us. As minutes went past, a couple of travellers from Belgium told us we had to pay the fee at the entrance of the terminal, and came back to find out that we still hadn't been registered at 8:55, panicking a bit about our passports, we hurried them up as we put our luggage into the bus. We got our passports just in time before leaving.
As we were pulling out of the station, Anna, the girl from Belgium told us she hadn't yet got her passport back, so we asked the driver to stop and find the woman to give their passports back! Just in time!
We finally left, the journey was fine, steady going up. However, after reaching lake Chungara, altitude started being an issue, head spinning, stomach feeling feeble and heart beating faster. The border crossing was soon upon us, and even though Oli was okay at this point, taking pictures of the view, I wasn't really keen on it in my state.
We crossed into Bolivia feeling a little hungry and decided to eat once heading to La Paz. First bite and altitude hit me abruptly, I felt bad, then worse and then... then it was gone, I ate, laughed and talked until I fell asleep.
I woke up to the voice of one of the workers, hoping he was telling us we had arrived to La Paz. Him and the guy sat in front were arguing and after a few seconds of waking up, I finally started to understand what was happening: We were being dropped off at El Alto, due to what apparently were riots at the entrance of La Paz. It took me even longer to realise he was saying "they are breaking the glasses" (meaning the windows). He gave us 3 Bolivians each and told us to take a minibus into the capital, and so we got off the bus.
Our time in Bolivia had a pretty interesting start. We walked about 6 blocks and crossed a couple of roads before getting on a minibus that charged 1.50 bolivians the seat. Our luggage occupied three seats and we occupied five, we were a bit short, but we paid the extras from some cash the other guys seemed to carry.
We entered La Paz, our eyes proved the rioting that had been going on at the border crossing, broken glass, police everywhere. But as we entered, the beautiful view of La Paz from the top arose.
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