Written Tuesday, April 17, 2012
And the adventures begin! Jovi
(Yo-vee), Tom and I departed the hostel at 9:45pm on Monday to arrive
at the bus terminal by 10pm so we could buy our bus tickets. The bus
agency a few doors down from The Point Arequipa told Tom and me when
we went to inquire about tickets that buses leave every 2 hours. We
were also told that it isn't as safe to cross the border into Bolivia
at nighttime so we figured with the 4 hour bus ride to Juliaca
followed by the 45 minutes to Puno where we then needed to buy a
separate bus ticket to Copacabana, Bolivia via crossing the border
would get us to the border during daylight. We spent 15 Soles each
($5.59) to get us as far as Puno and the next bus was leaving in 15
minutes! We couldn't have unintentionally planned that any better. I
was restless during the bus ride feeling anxious about what was going
to happen to me in attempting to cross the border considering my
illegal status in Peru. We arrived in Puno at 4:30am and bought
tickets for the next bus trip- 3 hours from when we arrived. Our bus
finally left at 7:45am, only 15 minutes late and I immediately fell
asleep. I woke up 3 hours later to the sun on my face having arrived
at the border. I was even more anxious with nausea, probably from
both the 12,600 ft above sea level altitude and the status of my not
officially nor legally being in an actual location. I was told (by
the immigration officials in Arequipa) to go directly to the Bolivian
border to get my stamp for entrance because going to the Peruvian
side would result in a major fine and a penalty of not being able to
return to Peru for one year. That wasn't an option because I have to
go back into Peru for my international flight on May 4th!
I nervously walked into the office and nonchalantly handed my
passport to the immigration official behind the desk. He flipped
through it a few times looking more and more confused with each
passing couple of seconds. He looked at me and asked me what the
deelio was. I explained to him that when I left Ecuador, I received a
stamp exiting the country, but that the bus never stopped for me to
get my stamp in Peru. He then invited me back to his office. The man
(whose name I never actually learned) asked me repeatedly what
happened and he walked in and out of the office a few times asking
his coworkers for advice. The man came back and asked for $135 for my
visa fee (which they only charge Americans by the way...) and for the
$1 per day penalty for staying illegally in Peru. The man took the
$60 worth of penalties and put it directly into his pocket! The
recently paid-off Bolivian (whom we'll call Amigo) official stood
next to me and contemplated what we could do. After more
consultations with his coworkers a plan was derived. Amigo explained
to me that he would fennagle (spelling on fennagle?)a visa for my passport by giving me an
entrance date for Bolivia of February 16, 2012 which was also the day
I left Ecuador. This meant that my passport would look as if I went
directly from Ecuador to Bolivia via airplane and had been in Bolivia
ever since February 16, 2012. This was so illegal. Amigo then told me
that I would have to wait 2 hours for the next tourism bus passing
through from Bolivia to Peru so that I could then obtain my exit
stamp from Bolivia and then enter Peru with the group. I would THEN
have to come back at 8am in the morning to 'exit' Peru and re-enter
Bolivia. What a headache! During the two hour wait, Amigo asked me if
I had eaten to which I replied that I was too nervous and anxious to
eat anything. He insisted that I accompany him to lunch and I knew
that this was his way of flirting with me. I was not in the mood for
so many reasons: I was tired and cranky having barely slept three
consecutive hours and I just wanted to cross a freaking border to be
in a country legally. We went to lunch and Amigo tried to get to know
me. He asked me if I live near The White House, how many siblings I
have and what I was doing in Peru. I wanted to be nice because Amigo
was (illegally) helping me but at the same time I was not looking for
a forty year old 5'6 Bolivian boyfriend fennagling government
documents. He obviously didn't realize that he had now involved the
United States. I paid for my own lunch and went back to his office
just a two minute walk from the family-owned restaurant where lunch
was served for 8 Bolivianos (just over $1) and I laid down on the
connected chairs. Amigo must have offered his bed to me in the back
room six times but I insisted I was comfortable on the plastic
chairs. I was anxious to get this all resolved. Amigo proceeded to
physically comfort me by placing his arm around my shoulder followed
by placing his hand on my leg to point to my immigration card placed
on top of my thigh- how convenient for him. I adjusted my positioning
making it clear through my body language that what he was doing
wasn't okay. Then the bus of tourists arrived just on time at
1:45pm. I obtained my exit stamp from Bolivia on my passport and
walked the 500 meters to the Peruvian office. I anxiously handed my
passport to the woman behind the window hoping she wouldn't question
me. What I was doing was wrong but on paper it looked completely legitimate. I got my stamp and turned around with a huge sigh of
relief, almost walking into a group of seven Israelis waiting in line
for their entrance stamps into Peru. Hearing the Hebrew made me feel
like 'my people' were with me in spirit making sure that everything
would go smoothly. I then walked back to the Bolivian side, back to
Amigo's office and let him know that everything went okay. We had
discussed my options for what I could do after my legal entrance into
Peru; I could stay the night in Peru, but at a dodgy, not-so-clean
hostel for 15 Soles, or I could meet Jovi and Tom in Copacabana and
pretend that I don't have my passport when the hostel asks to photo
copy it. I chose option number two. The last step in this process is
to return to the border in the morning to 'exit' Peru and get my
re-entrance to Bolivia. Amigo told me that we should celebrate my
success by going drinking and dancing tomorrow night. I said no
thanks, that my friends and I are on a tight schedule and had a lot
to do. I extended my hand to shake and thank Amigo and he began to
lean in so I quickly darted out the door, bags in hand. I grabbed the
first taxi I saw and took the eleven minute cab ride into town. I
found a restaurant with wifi so I sat down to order a tea and pumpkin
soup, checked my messages to find out where Tom and Jovi decided to
stay and Skyped with Franny to let her know everything was okay (you
know Jewish mothers). In checking in to Hostel Gabriel, I explained
to the indigenously dressed woman that my friends were staying at her
hostel and that I wanted to stay as well. She was thrilled. There was
just one problem- I forgot my passport in La Paz. Apparently that
wasn't an issue. She grabbed a key, walked me to my room, and that
was it! I knocked on Tom & Jovi's door but they had gone out to
get something to eat. I decided to take a shower. I walked to the
shared bathroom to see a sink and a toilet seat that was rather wet-
gross. But it wasn't pee. I looked up to find myself standing under
the shower head, then saw the drain on the floor. I was IN the
shower. That explains the watery toilet seat. I bathed, put on pjs
(mind you it was 3pm) and began writing this entry. Tom and Jovi came
back just 15 minutes later and I told them what happened. Tom, being
the very intelligent 23 year old asked me a wonderful question;
'after receiving the faulty visa, why didn't you just come straight
to Copacabana because according to your passport, you are now in
Bolivia?' I was baffled. Tom was absolutely right. Why the hell
didn't I question that? Amigo had something up his sleeve (and now in
his pocket). I quickly became frustrated, but just as quickly forgave
myself. I was exhausted, dealing with border officials 3 weeks before
my flight back to The States, and sick (oh yea, I have had a nasty
cold for 4 days. I was supposed to leave for Bolivia on Sunday but
because I was feeling to icky, I decided to postpone for a day). I am
looking forward to asking Amigo what the hell was up.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
My subconscious could feel the anxiety
as I slept because I woke up several times in fear of sleeping
through my alarm that was due to set off at 7:30am. The third time I
woke up in fear of being late for my appointment at the border, it
was finally light outside and 7:15am. Over the course of the next 15
minutes I closed my eyes and thought happy thoughts. I was worried
that someone would ask to see my passport which was of illegal
status. According to my passport, I was in Peru, but according to my
physical location, I was in Bolivia. The illegality of everything had
my stomach in knots. I put on a hat and completely different clothes
from my adventures at the border yesterday so as to seem less
obvious. I took the fifteen minute cab ride to the border and arrived
at exactly 8am on the dot- just as Amigo had instructed me to do. I
arrived at the border office to find the front door locked. Are you
freaking kidding me? There were police browsing the gravel streets
and I needed to be unseen. I am a tall, nearly blonde gringa who
sticks out like a sore thumb. I spotted a mini mart next to the front
door of the border control and browsed on over to ask what the deelio
was. The man in his mid fifties told me that the office didn't open
until 8:30am. Well then why the hell would Amigo tell me to come at
8!? I didn't want to know. I asked if I could browse around and
spotted an essential that was on my shopping list for today; toilet
paper! I bought a fresh roll for 2 Bolivianos because there is no
public toilet paper in bathrooms in Bolivia. At all. Let's just say
that I learned my lesson the hard way. I walked into the man's store
and cleared off a stool so I could sit down for the next thirty
minutes out of sight from the police. The man walked in and asked me
why I was at the border. He asked me questions like why I was there
to which I replied that I had problems at the border yesterday and
had to sort out some problems with the man who works in the back
office. Our entire proceeding conversation was a lie. Nester (we
eventually introduced ourselves) asked how long I had been in South
America and where I was from. We spent the next ten minutes
discussing how unfair it was that I had to pay $135 for a visa
(Nester even told me that I
probably paid an extra fee to someone's pocket) but that it's only
because the U.S. Government charges Bolivians a hefty fee to enter
The States. Nester told me that Americans are the only group of
people who pay for a visa, otherwise it's absolutely free for
everyone else in the world. My new friend asked if I was traveling
alone and if I was married. This is where the lies began. I learned
the hard way (which I seem to do in South America) that I shouldn't
tell a Latino man that I am single unless I am ready to be hit on
until I accept a date. Suddenly I had been married for two years but
I have no kids, I am a bartender back home where I earn up to $300 on
a Saturday night in tips and I don't have a specialty drink because
everything I make is delicious. Nester was sad that I didn't have any
children yet and that I wasn't traveling with my fake husband. I
assured him that we wanted kids within the next three years and that
women in the U.S. have children until they're in their forties. I am
traveling alone because my husband and I have a great relationship
and he was okay with me wanting to do some traveling alone. Oh- and
after we have our first child, my husband and I are moving to
Australia. I have never made up such a story in my life but with
yesterday and today, my entire life seemed to be a lie. Nester asked
me again why I had come to the border and I told him again that I had
issues crossing. Some tourism buses began to arrive to cross the
border from Bolivia to Peru which was essentially what I needed to do
before getting my re-entry stamp back into Bolivia. I peeked at the
now open front door and saw a police official standing in the way. I
started sweating and trying to breath deeply. Nester was coming in
and out of his shop which he seemed to use more as a storage area and
was carrying his stock outside. I offered to help him and he graciously declined. Nester came in a final time and told me that if
I have any problems with the border that I was more than welcome to
stay with him. He has plenty of food with which to feed me, water and
supplies, and that he could give me money if I needed any. Nester has
been working this job for 20 years supporting his wife and four sons
who live in La Paz, three hours from where Nester lives and works. I
decided to partially come clean. I told Lester that I was illegally
in Bolivia and that I needed to see the man who helped me yesterday
but that there was a policeman in my way. I needed Nester to tell me
when the policeman was gone. He looked into my eyes with compassion
and assured me that he would assist in any way he could. Two minutes
later, Amigo walked in! I annoyingly asked him why he instructed me
to come to his office at 8am if he didn't open until 8:30am. I didn't
even pay attention to his mumbly answer- I just wanted to get this
over with so I could relax and acclimate to the elevation in a
stress-free manner. We walked passed the police officer in the
doorway who didn't even blink. Luckily, I think I was dealing with
the boss of the immigration office. We went over the plan and he
tried to console me again by placing his arm around my shoulder. I
quickly stood up and said that I was ready to go. He walked me to the
border, as far as he could and sent me on my way to the Peruvian
office to obtain my exit stamp. I walked up to the same woman who
stamped me in yesterday hoping that with the hundreds, if not
thousands who come through every day, she wouldn't recognize me. I
handed her my passport and she took a look at my immigration card,
handed my passport back to me, and told me I had to go get a stamp
from the police. I could feel my face turn bright red. Was the jig
up? Did she suspect something? I looked at her and said I didn't
understand. She repeated exactly what she said the first time. I
turned around and nervously walked to the policemen out front
expecting to be taken to jail. I told them that the woman inside of
immigration said I needed a stamp from the police and I was
instructed to follow one of the officers into a separate office. I
began telling him that the reason I was leaving Peru (because my
passport says I'm in Peru) so soon was because I had a change of
plans and decided to meet up with some friends who changed their
plans and went to Bolivia. He said no problemo, stamped my
immigration card, and I went back to the same woman to receive my
exit stamp. Everything went fine! This seemed too easy to be true. I
just needed to make it back to Bolivia on foot, being the only gringa
within a kilometer without the police asking me why I just walked
from the Bolivian side to the Peruvian side, and then back to
Bolivia. No one asked me a damn thing! Amigo was waiting for me where
he dropped me off, talking to two policemen. We walked back to his
office unbothered. Amigo told me we could now celebrate and said we
should buy an Inka Cola (Peruvian soda) to drink with the guys in the
office. I said a) I don't' drink soda and b) my friends are waiting
for me back in Copacabana. Back in the office I got my entrance
stamp into Bolivia and everything was legal and official. I wanted to
ask him what the deal was with me needing my Peru stamp after he
fennagled my visa for Bolivia. If he gave me a visa that said that I
had entered Bolivia on February 16, why did I need to get Peru
involved. I held my tongue because I didn't want to change my success
with the two policemen standing in the doorway. I shook his hand,
thanked Amigo, and said I wasn't buying him a freaking Inka Cola and
walked out. I went back to Nester's shop, shook his hand and gave him
a pat on the shoulder thanking him for everything. It truly was his
pleasure. I got a taxi back to Copacabana for 15 Bolivianos and went
straight to an internet café to let Franny know via skype that
everything was hunky dorey. It's 10am and I have already had a more
exciting day than most of you reading this right now. I don't know
what I would have done if I wasn't nearly fluent in Spanish!
