I admit it. I was too lazy to get a visa in advance. I'd heard that you could buy one at the border and didn't give it a lot more thought. When we purchased our bus tickets from Puno to La Paz, the ticket seller asked me if I had a visa. She told me I'd have to pay because I was American. "What about her?" She glanced at the Singaporean passport and shook her head no. On our bus ride we were given a bunch of forms to fill out. We bounced along the western shore of Titicaca towards the border town of Desaguadero, where we'd have to get out, walk into the middle of the town, get our Peruvian exit stamp, walk across a bridge over a small river that separates Peru and Bolivia and into Bolovian immigration.
Even though we planned to fly out of Bolivia to Chile, we'd not yet booked the flight. Some of our plans were not yet cemented. While on the bus I booked a flight that I'd later cancel, I wanted to have some proof we'd be leaving Bolivia. We arrived in Desaguadero after 2 hours and made our way towards Peruvian immigration and had our exit stamp in a flash. As we walked across the bridge to Bolivia, nobody seemed very interested in our going into the immigration building on the Bolivia side. We walked right past it, got a bit lost and had to ask for directions.
We stood in a long line, finally arriving to a young clerk who flipped through my passport. "You don't have a visa?" she asked. Nope, don't have one. She got a look of panic and asked an older clerk what to do. She then gave me the bad news. We both needed two passport photos, copies of our yellow fever certificates, copies of our hotel stays, copies of our outbound flight, copies of our bank statements, a copy of our itinerary in the country and $260 US dollars. There was also some additional form to fill out but they couldn't find a copy of it. They shooed us out, told us to come back with all of those things. Everyone else on our bus was already done with their paperwork and was headed to the bus, which was waiting for us on the Bolivian side of the border. I went outside, crossed the street to a small store and got our yellow fever certificates copied. I asked if he had an internet kiosk. He pointed back toward the bridge. "Peru." The nearest internet kiosk was in the country we'd just left, exit stamps and all. Dodo told one of our fellow passengers, a young Korean guy who'd been smart enough to get a Bolivian visa in Korea, to let the bus driver know we had some paperwork to do.
We walked briskly back over the bridge to Peru, hoping not to raise any suspicion and found an internet kiosk. I explained I had to print some things and then began to log into my accounts. I typed and the screen flickered slowly, as if the computer was struggling to load the page. I imagined the bus filled with everyone but us, complaining, wondering what was taking so long. Finally, my Google login appeared and I started to type but something was wrong - this was a Spanish keyboard and I could not find the ampersand key anywhere. Sweat started to gather under my arms. "I am going to go let the bus driver know we're going as fast as we can" Dodo said. "I don't want them to leave us." I began to click all over the keyboard using the shift key, the control key and a stream of nonsense filled the screen. Then an ampersand popped up. I carefully copied it, erased the rest and logged in. The screen just flickered, there was a small icon spinning in the middle of the screen.
A message appeared "For added security, please check your mobile phone for the password we just sent you." I looked at my phone - nothing. My Google account was linked to my New York number and my phone was set up with a Peruvian SIM card. There was a way to switch it, so I went to my phone setup and began to search. I was having trouble because I'd stupidly set my phone language to Spanish to practice. I clicked around, tried a few things. I glanced at the time. Thirty minutes had passed. We were holding up a busload of people. Dodo was back "The Korean guy is standing outside the immigration building, refusing to get on the bus. He's a good guy, he's helping us out. I am going to another internet kiosk to try to print as well."
My phone buzzed, the password had arrived. I logged in and starting printing out the flight details and hotel reservations. I then logged into my bank and printed out a bank statement. I met Dodo outside and she'd been able to print out her bank statement. Now I needed passport photos. Dodo had extra copies so she was set. "I will meet you at the immigration building." I asked a cop where I could get some photos done and he pointed down the road, further away from the bridge. I walked about 30 yards, looked back at him and he just kept waving me further. I began to run, looking at either side of the street for a store with a photo sign. I ran about a half a mile before I saw it. I busted through the door yelling "I need two passport photos" in Spanish. The clerk, an older guy with close cropped grey hair, with specs perched on his head glanced up at me slowly. He pulled his glasses down onto his nose, blinked a few times like an owl and asked me to have a seat in a chair with a white screen behind it. He sighed, got up, shuffled around, then disappeared through a curtain into a back room. I was jiggling my leg, checking my phone for the time. One hour had passed.
The clerk reappeared after a few minutes and began to snap the photos. Then he disappeared again. It's as if he was enjoying holding me up. I heard a printer start up and felt a wave of relief. He came through the curtain, sat at his desk, took out a pair of scissors and began to separate the photos. He was cutting like a brain surgeon, so slowly, so carefully. My heart rate began to rise again. Once I'd paid, I stepped out into the street in a full sprint. Half way back to the immigration center my lungs gave out, I had to stop running. You don't sprint at 14,000 feet = I walked the rest of the way, back over the bridge and found Dodo.
The bus driver was standing next to the Korean guy, he gave me an urgent glance and I tried to calm him down. We got back in line and handed over everything, this time to the veteran clerk. She flipped through our paperwork and asked me where my extra form was. "What form?" I asked. "Oh shit" said Dodo. "I forgot to make a copy for you." The actual visa form, the one they couldn't find earlier, well, they managed to find a single copy and made it our problem to get copies. I grabbed it and ran back across the street to the photocopy store but it was closed. I then ran to another. The woman who worked there was holding her young child, feeding him food. I asked for a photocopy and she went to put the kid down and he fell and started to cry. "No photo, NO PHOTO" she yelled. I went back outside and asked the bus driver for help. He tried to talk her into it but she wouldn't budge. He took off with the paper and came back 5 minutes later with a copy.
I joined Dodo and the veteran clerk, waving the paper. She said "Bueno" and walked us over to the payment clerk and handed him the paperwork. He was playing some kind of game on his phone. He was middle-aged, with thick down turned lips, which stayed that way as he realized he had to do some work. He sighed, put down his phone and began to type into his computer at the speed of sludge. I wanted to head butt him. He took my photo, printed it and taped it to a visa that he pasted into my passport. "Ciento-seisenta" he said without looking up. I handed him the US dollars. He inspected each bill, turning it over, feeling all four edges, then he re-counted them three times. He finally handed me my passport and told me I had to get my visa stamped. He pointed back to the other veteran clerk.
Dodo was yelling "The asshole won't take American Dollars." The same clerk I'd just paid American Dollars to was refusing to take American dollars from Dodo. He wanted Bolivian money. I was pretty sure that was because he was going to pocket it. I asked some guys drinking coffee outside where I could change money and they pointed me to an old lady who was wearing a tall brown bowler hat that was pitched at a strange angle on top of her head. I took out a hundred bucks, got the Bolivianos and ran back to Dodo, who went through all the steps: watching the dunce inspect and count the money, create the visa, affix it to her passport, stamping the visa, getting copies.
We ran outside, found the bus driver and the Korean guy and started to walk crisply back to the bus. We'd wasted two hours of everyone's time. As I boarded the bus I apologized in English and Spanish and we sat. The bus took off. I stayed in my seat and didn't look anyone in the eyes for the remaining three hours.
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