Bolivia is the natural alternative to abortion

The plan after Uyuni was to take the train to Tupiza because we had absolutely had it with the Bolivian bus system and figured that the train would be the best bet. Well, they somehow managed to make the train ride equally if not more bumpy than the off-roading bus ride through the desert and I was actually flung against the window the entire time. By the time we got to Tupiza, which is where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid were gunned down, I was completely green and very worried about a repeat of the after-effects of the Uyuni busride. We tried to elicit some sort of sympathetic response from the locals by saying I was pregnant. It didn't work. I only got an extra pillow after paying for it. Tupiza is a real old west town complete with incredibly scary townsfolk, and the need to get indoors as soon as you can see your shadow in front of you, or the sun is going down. you absolutely CANNOT get lunch past 12:00, even if you are pregnant, starving, and trying very hard not to vomit. Even if you offer to pay double. Even if you cry. The townsfolk will be in their restaurants watching tv and absolutely will not serve you; some of them will even forcibly remove you from their restaurants by pushing you out the door, and doing a really scary excorcist laugh when you turn around and gasp. Luckily we found a nice family who agreed to serve us and it turned out to be really delicious steak and quinoa soup for less than ten dollars. We had been planning to go horseback riding in the mountains but after the horrible response from the locals we were too afraid and really just wanted to get the hell out of there. Not to mention the fact that I was still a flattering shade of puke-green. Absolutely sick to death of proletariat transport we decided to just get a taxi to drive us to the border and figure it out once we were OUT! OF! BOLIVIA!. The taxi was pretty cheap and the drive was gorgeous, the surrounding mountains were red and looked a bit like Arizona, it was really too bad we didn't go horseback riding but after going in Salta, I knew we made the right decision because it would have been way too scary if I didn't have complete faith in our guide and the docility of our horses. At the border the bus company tried to rip us off AGAIN selling us super-camas with hot meals and seats thats recline all the way back but this time we were too smart for them and checked our tickets when they gave them to us only to discover that while we were paying for the beds, they had only printed regular bus tickets so we demanded our money back immediately and once again discovered that the service didn't even exist. We ended up booking a 7 hour bus to Salta, even though we had no idea what Salta was. Obviously this was no uneventful busride, and was in keeping with our record of being incredibly bizarre, scary, confusing and I really wished I could have taken out my camera. The bus was PACKED with indigenous people who had smuggled alcohol aboard and were congregated around our seats (literally sitting on our arm rests) passing the bottle around and chewing coco leaves and spitting them on the floor. The bus stank, they were all so loud and so drunk and we were incredibly confused as to why every single one of them had about a hundred blankets and towels and bags full of stuff that they kept moving around and checking on. We learned early on that some of the blankets served a purpose since the bus was once again FREEZING and at 2 in the morning our bus pulled over and everyone started getting off. Oh and I forgot to mention that they all spoke a weird hybrid dialect that didn't have much to do with Spanish, plus they were slurring because they were drunk and we couldnt understand a single thing they said. So we had no idea what was going on except that as they filed off the bus, they kept giving us blankets and coats and bags of stuff and asking us to keep it. We finally figured out that we all needed to get off the bus, all of our bags were thrown off as well and we had to collect them and bring them inside this building that served as a drug control stop and they were checking everyones bags. Turns out these people were argentinian and had gone into bolivia to buy cheap goods and resell them in Argentina but obviously couldnt be doing that legally since they would have to pay taxes on it or there was a limit to how much they could bring across and they were all trying to get the ONLY gringos (as always) on the bus to take the stuff for them and try to pass it off as our own. Plus, they were trying to bribe us with blankets and coats since we were freezing and quite underdressed. We obviously couldnt take their stuff since we didnt know if there were drugs in them or anything - but the police didnt even look through our bags the only comment they even made was to ask each other where montreal was and laugh about ho it was funny that we were both born in canada. After this one hour long ordeal we had bonded with the other passengers so I was a little less nervous and got maybe ten minutes of sleep. Oh, Jordan was obviously passed out right from the beginning, completely unperterbed by the fat lady falling into his lap every few minutes. Anyways I had fallen asleep for about an hour or so when we stopped once again and a police officer came onto the bus with a heavy duty flashlight and started looking through everybody's bags that were on the bus (which were quite plentiful) he shined the light in sleeping passengers faces (who were passed out drunk) and then even shook them awake very roughly yelling questions that didnt seem to make any sense like "where is the chocolate where is the chocolate!" Jordan slept through this as well. Anyways the bus ride was like a first-class flight after the Uyuni ordeal but the whole thing was incredibly weird and confusing. And SO happy to get out of Bolivia!