It’s a fine, cool morning. I travel on to La Quiaca, the last Argentine town and the Bolivian border. The ride is long, climbing up and up on mostly metal roads and more salt flats. I arrive around 3:30 p.m. to find the border closed until morning. However, I meet a young chap, Jorge, who speaks a bit of English and is the son of the station master. It is Easter weekend and all accomodation is booked out. I get the okay to sleep in the waiting room with my bike.
Me and my bike are snoozing away in an empty waiting room when, in the early hours of the morning, people start filling up the room. There are lots of kids, all very friendly and chatty with lots of questions. Eventually, a big old steam engine pulls in, loads up, and they are all gone. I get my bedroom back to myself.