Bolivia…a post-apocalyptic first impression

As soon as I entered Bolivia I wanted to leave. The border leaving Brazil was different to most I had experienced, as it lacked the usual line of trucks belching diesel fumes in my face. It did, however, have the usual flow of cars loaded with family members, bags, and the odd crate of live chickens. Foreigners on motorbikes were unusual, particularly those from the U.K. riding the world’s largest capacity production motorcycle, a Triumph Rocket X, but eventually the paperwork was completed, and I was permitted to say goodbye to Brazil. Rio de Janeiro had become a favourite city on my Round the World trip.

I rode around the corner toward the no man’s land that usually accompanies border posts and could scarcely believe what I saw. An expanse of compacted mud and craters greeted me. I wondered if I had taken a wrong turn and lost the road, but the steady stream of those cars and chickens were making their way through. We all chicaned our way around the holes, crossing from one side to the other, looking for a safe path.

Into Bolivia

It only took a few minutes before I arrived at the entry point into Bolivia, where I was again staggered by a post-apocalyptic scene. The offices were crumbling, windowless, doorless and almost roofless. I slowed to a crawl to see where I needed to present my passport, but