Death Bridge, Pumas, and Attack Toilets

Upon returning to town we bought a couple of bottles of wine as host gifts to bring to Ben’s Peace Corp friend, Britta. She kindly offered to cook us dinner that night and was stationed in a nearby town. Although we were looking forward to a quiet evening with friends, we were quickly brought back to the reality of the perils of Bolivian travel. Our destination was the town of Paredones, which was a 30 min drive from the town of Saimapata. The plan was to catch a taxi from one town to another. That plan quickly ended when our taxi driver informed Ben that he would not drive through a low river crossing that had been recently built to allow car traffic between the cities. It had now gotten quite dark but Ben assured us that we could easier cross the river and walk to Britta’s house. We began to worry when Ben suggested we pick up a couple of stones to fend off vicious dogs should they become aggressive. That worry deepened when we saw a dilapidated wooden plank bridge with several missing planks and a rushing river below. This was all very reminiscent of the bridge in Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom minus the alligators but with the small Chinese boy. After traversing the bridge in almost complete darkness, the situation worsened as Ben started to lead us down a path into the forest littered with large feline tracks. Did we mention there were puma’s in the area?



We were saved by a nice Bolivian man with a flashlight who called out to us wondered if we were lost and pointed us onto the right path. From there we started walking up a lonely dirt road towards Britta’s house. Ben, however, had only been there once and was a little fuzzy on the exact directions. It was fine until it started to drizzle and Britta’s house was nowhere to be found. After another half an hour of walking we came upon a couple of houses that looked promising but had dogs that were unchained and menacing. Joe and George began to flee back down the road while Ben, experienced in these matters, cocked his arm as if to throw a rock and scared off the dogs. Thankfully, a small headlamp appeared in the darkness. Britta had found us and called off the dogs.

An excellent meal of Thai soup, fresh vegetables, and grilled chicken awaited us. It was certainly one of the best meals we had in Bolivia. We gained a bit of insight into the Peace Corps experience upon using the facilities. To back up a bit, Britta’s house could be considered rustic. Her apartment had a one-room living, eating, sleeping space with concrete floors and a separate room for a kitchen and a toilet. This toilet was special. In fact it was almost an adventure every time one flushed it. The key to flushing the toilet was leaping away from the torrent of water that gushed into the bowl splashing out in a 3 feet radius. The best strategy was to step outside the bathroom, hide behind the door, and reach one arm in to flush.



The slight drizzle that began when we were walking to Britta’s house became heavier and the dirt path turned to mud. Our plan for getting a taxi back to our hostel in Samiapata disappeared, and Britta graciously offered her floor as a next best option. The hard floor and the attack toilet were quickly forgotten the next morning when we were greeted by an amazing sunrise. We enjoyed views of a beautiful lush valley and river surrounded by misty mountains.