(Tamara)No. More. Night. Buses...Normally when I purchase a bus ticket, I select or am given a seat and I proceed to remain in that seat for the journey's duration. Not in Bolivia. After our four night's of static shocks with near self-combustion, a 12 hour journey to catch up on sleep was imperative before we adopted the roles of volunteers. Out of those 12 hopeful hours we managed to grasp a pathetic one. It seemed that we had purchased tickets for a mi...

(Tamara)We had endured a frustrating night, sporadically drifting between consciousness as the stench of thick sweat from congealed bodies and the unsynchronised snores of the women directly behind us had disturbed us throughout the night. The bus came to a halt and with our clocks reverted backwards by an hour at 6.00am we had finally made it to the Bolivian border. Having been warned of the below minus temperatures that would greet us, I was ready to face the c...

Having satisfied our thirst for jungle fever, we strolled to the bus station and took a deep breath before we embarked on our 24 hour bus journey to Salta. I had discovered a blog in England by a young couple who described our next route as a 'hellish journey' and this idea had been reinforced throughout our trip by people's warning signals in reaction to our planned route. To George and I 24 hours on a bus seemed like heaven. We quickly snuggled into...

(Tamara)The sun rose and welcomed a new day, crimson red and blood orange seeped through the gaps in the curtains. Peering through them we were faced with a surreal surprise; luscious foliage, vast palm trees and wooden houses whisked by. After 20 hours on a bus we were very happy to leave the city and enter the jungle. True South American style, we were given a breakfast any dentist would gasp in horror at: two cakes, three biscuits and an additional complimenta...

(Tamara)After a 10 hour painless bus journey through Uruguay we were welcomed by waving cows back into Argentina; we'll be eating you later! Disembarking the coach we thanked our luck as a squawking group of school children piled on, the night ahead would have been a long one. Rosario by moonlight seemed charming as we passed lit-up parks, with concrete noble horsemen taking centre stage. As the second city of Argentina, Rosario has a booming port trade and i...