Tooth pain and greedy Bolivian women

My last day with R - it was sad times. We packed our bags and I, carrying the weight of my shitty toothache as well as my backpack, moved out into the storage room - really a corridor to somewhere guarded by a broken padlock. I had forced myself to have a shower, limb by limb in the freezing water, and at least felt a little more clean.

Before I go on, I will just say that Sucre LOVES sweet things. I have seen a lot of sweet things in Bolivia, but Sucre is the most obsessed. Maybe this is why every woman ends up the same rotund shape, or maybe it is because of this that they eat so much shit, and then it is an ongoing cycle of depressive eating. Who knows. I tried some things, they were OK but mostly dry, and I missed the desserts of Argentina... where for art thou dulce de leche???

I thought R was leaving early, but we ended up being energetic and going lots more than planned before she eventually got a bus in the afternoon. We went to a museum and looked around without paying somehow. We also hiked up the hill to the mirador, the lookout, which was the perfect place to be on such a faultless blue day. We were well n truly puffed by the time we got up - still not used to the altitude - and rested for a little while before heading back down. Talked momentarily to a ginger that ended up being from Chile and a darker, Pharrell Williams type from Peru. I wonder if that is where Pharrell comes from?

Afterwards, R decided it was finally time to leave and together we went to the bus terminal to get her a bus. She was going to Potosi again to meet someone, or do something, I dunno... I needed to find out times n prices for my journey to La Paz via Oruro that night. That was pretty easy - I knew what price I wanted to pay so I didn`t settle for less and before I knew it, I had a ticket in my hand and only 30bs out of pocket. Sweetness.

After a sad farewell, I hopped onto a bus and headed back into town to find a beautician that did bikini waxing. Much easier said than done. Fuck`s sake, only 2 of them did it and actually finding a salon with the waxist there was another problem altogether. Eventually, I found one - cheapest yet around the world - and all was merry. I was looking forward to seeing my amigovio in La Paz the next day so I needed to be prepared...

Also visited a dentist to see what the deal was with my tooth pain, and he said I needed a radiograph to see the problem, and maybe to take out the tooth altogether. Well, considering I had my ticket for La Paz already, I was not sticking around for that, so he wrote out an explanation for the dentist in La Paz, and I paid him to give me teeth a good clean to try and reduce the inflammation just for the moment. Didn`t really work that well. But at least my teeth were clean.

I faffed around until my bus at 9:30, wasting time in the terminal talking to a Bolivian woman in full traditional garbar (known as Cho, and losing my black nail polish in translation when I asked if she wanted to paint her nails, and her saying, "No, later" and stuffing it into her black shawl. Hmmm. That wasn`t precisely my plan, bitch.

The bus ride was pretty bad - mainly because I couldn`t sleep due to the pain in my gums. I had bought some pain pills prescribed by the dentist, which did jackshit, so I just shifted around my seats (thankfully I had 2 to myself) and tried unsuccessfully to cover my entire body with a short jacket from the cold. Forever with at least one major limb frozen, it was a losing battle on my part. Winter = 1, Me = 0.

FIIIIIINALLY, after 8 hours of no sleep, we arrived at Oruro at 5:20am. I had been told the buses to La Paz were plentiful no matter the hour, but the terminal looked mighty empty to me. Not until I crossed through to the other side did I see the craziness that was Oruro bus terminal on an early weekday morning. "LA PAZ LA PAZ LA PAZ LA PAZ" Si, si, 10bs? Si, si, bueno. Deal done. 40bs all up to get the 11 hours from Sucre to La Paz (about $6) in middle class. Nice one. And certainly better than the 150 quoted to me by the tour agent. Gringo price me, why don`t you!