Days one hundred sixteen to one hundred seventeen, 5-10 to 5-11-13
Bolivia is full of whiners. Of course the gas station was still striking and the water at the car wash was frozen. We rode around all morning trying to find gas before another couple on motos staying at our hotel told us they heard an ICE CREAM SHOP down the street sold gas. Sure enough the lady came out with a ten liter jug and a funnel and we had gas... from the ice cream shop... We hit the road, and what a shitty road it was. 120 miles of washboard. Yeah it wasn't asphalt but fuck, this was shit! No fun at all. After forever we arrived in Tupiza. kinda. The strike was nationwide and they were blocking people from even going in and out of citys. In Uyuni we just rode straight through at high speeds and figured people would move or get hit, but in Tupiza they were smarter. They had a rope. So we rode down to the river and took a rode through some gravel yard or something and into the town. We found a pretty nice place with, bad, but internet and hung out for two nights to get some typing and laundry done. I have no photos because I'm to lazy to reach into my pocket.
The next day I headed to toward the border at Villazon. Now this could be important to someone. If you are an american citizen you have to go online and pay to get into Argentina, print out your receipt, and have it at the border. You can not pay cash at the border. And there is not good enough internet in Villazon to pay there. We had to call Robert, our friend that met us in Medellin, and have him do it for us in Portland over the phone. Thank you Robert you saved our asses! So we get stamped out of Bolivia and into Argentina. One problem... They are searching bags.
We have a bit of dynamite, blasting caps full of nitro glyceryn, a large bag of Amonium nitrate, and ten feet of gun powder filled fuse. I'm sweating a little. The guy searching bags is doing a fairly good job. But he is busy. He calls another man out of the office. This guy is not happy to come out of the office. He points to the bag, "What's in here?" "Ropa" (clothes) points to another bag..."Ropa". He is lazy. Great. He signs our papers and we drive away into Argentina. We ride to Tilcara where we find a campsite and set up shop, drink a bottle of whiskey and hit the hay.