Well, after 5 days in Bolivia, I am a changad woman! Argentina is kind to travellers; you pay a little extra, but you get what you pay for and they will catch you if you fall. Bolivia is a wild swirling mix of colour and flavour. Travellers are few and hostels are basic. In this country, the seatbelt is off!

I set off on a bus to Cochabamba, a sprawling Bolivan city famous mainly amongst travellers as a good stop off on the way to La Paz and because of its cool name! Having accustomed myself to the bliss that is a bus in Argentina, I did not go to the toilet or take extra clothing on the 16 hour journey, and was feeling naively confident. Then our bus arrived with a bang, literally, stalling and coasting into the space alocated. I got on and squeezed into my seat past boys singing improvised, tuneless songs about Cochambamba: “we are going to Cochabamba... oooh won´t that be nice...lots of things to eat....some sugar and... some spice!!” There most definitely wasn´t a tv, like in Argentina, and more importantly, nor was there a toilet. A very well-endowed woman sat down next to me and loaded her bag of corn, or sweets, or children (it could have been anything) between our feet. She wore a traditional bowler hat and had amazing silken plaits running down her back. Had she attempted to dress up as a Bolivian for a party, she couldn´t have looked more authentic. Then our bus pulled out. Then it broke down. Then it pulled out...and promptly broke down. 16 hours felt like a very long ride.

Still, a more Bolivian experience I could not imagine. As the sun fell, we bumped along dirt streets through fruit markets and past drowsy cafes. Everywhere you looked, Bolivian mums in traditional dress hobbled along gossiping and children ran around playing in the dirt. Then the city dissipated, and was replaced by silent looming mountains, shriking our little bus into insigificance. Cacti stood graciously, silouetted against the night sky, and the air became fresh and thin as the day slipped away.

Bolivia is very easy to write romantically about, but its also very easy to ciritcise. I was ripped off terribly for a glass of orange juice at nearly ten pounds, my british skin has tuned the colour of scoarched earth, and I nearly spend last night in a house of ill repute. But as my english friend put it “you can´t put a price on experience” and in Bolivia, experience abounds.