What They Don´t Tell You At Border Posts

Had a cracking ride up over the altiplano to Juliaca, then along Lake Titicaca through Puno to the border at Desaguedero.Just about every policeman I passed flagged me down for a chat; and I think I´ve had more offers of marriage in Peru than the rest of my life put together.

The border was the usual beargarden (busy market, mud etc.), made tolerable by the very friendly chaps at the Central Customs office (had to go there in a tricycle taxi) and the equally friendly Bolivian truckers who insisted I jump the queue as my paperwork was minimal compared with theirs. The downside was the bribe to the border customs man (only a couple of quid, but never nice) which was allegedly a fee but disappeared into his shirt pocket. And, of course, the ´last man´ at the end of the village; the immigration man was OK, but the man checking the bike papers demanded more money - I pretended not to understand and claimed I only had Peruvian soles (absolutely true, except for the dollars).

On the road the Bolivian police at the checkpoints were nearly as friendly as the Peruvians, and at the toll booth the guy decided that my lack of understanding, lack of bolivianos and the hassle of getting at any money anyway negated any discernible advantage so let me through gratis (with the police looking on).

I have no idea how I managed to get into the centre of La Paz and find a hotel with parking. All pure luck - dark, no map, no road signs.

Anyway, today´s my birthday (all together now), a fact which didn´t escape the staff at the hotel in Arica, as they gave me leaving/birthday prezzies (they clock your DOB at checkin). The bar staff gave me a nice Arequipa T-shirt, and the reception staff a rather smart embroidered hotel polo shirt. the bellboys contributed stickers for the bike, and the maintenance guys cleaned it for me. And I thought I was supposed to be tipping them mightily for all their help.

Oh, and the thing they never tell you at border posts is the time. So if you forget to look at a clock you can end up in a bit of a pickle. For the record, I´m now only 4 hours behind GMT.