The Curse Of The Saggy Man Boobs. (Or, What Happens When You’ve Overstayed Your Bolivian Visa.)

Hello everyone. You may remember BEM, the memorable employee of the Bolivian Embassy in Rio De Janeiro whom we’ve written about in a previous post. He was the muse who inspired profound (and profane) depths of lyrical cursing from Cheryl. He was, in fact, the recipient of The Curse Of The Long Armpit Hair, and the victim of his own self-sabotaging ineptitude. You may remember him giving us a 90-day visa for Bolivia. Lastly, you may also remember his complete inability to get his numbers right.

That muppet meant “30 days”.

32 days later, at the Bolivian Immigration Office, we discovered this act of delayed treachery while attempting to do an overland crossing into Peru from Copacabana, Bolivia. Cheryl was provoked to such magnitudes of fury that she howled a curse that would echo off the surrounding mountains for eternity. Hordes of fish fainted in shock in the nearby Lake Titicaca. Witnesses are composing folk songs about it. There will be a legend.

This is how it started.

(Henceforth, BOOB stands for Border Official Of Bolivia. SOD stands for Security On Duty. C stands for Cheryl. L stands for Liz.

BOOB 1 stamps the exit stamp on L’s passport, and beckons C forward. C hands him her passport containing the exact same Bolivian visa as L’s. The exit stamp descends and screeches to a halt one-tenth of an inch away from the page. BOOB 1 looks up slowly. His eyes gleam.)

BOOB 1: You stay long time Bolivia?

C: Quite?

BOOB 1: No no no, you stay long time Bolivia.

C: I have to stay longer?

BOOB 1: Yes. Long time.

C: Whatever for?

BOOB 1: Marry bed.*  (*Presumably he meant “very bad”.)

C: Why do I have to marry Bed? Who the hell is Bed?

BOOB 1: You come.

C: Eh? Are you introducing me to Bed?

(BOOB 1 grabs both L’s and C’s passports and has a serious whispered conversation with BOOB 2, who gives a look of such dismayed outrage that C is beginning to wonder if Bed is perhaps a diseased llama. BOOB 2 takes the passports and leads C to another desk in the back of the office, where he whips out two very serious looking forms. He fills in the first digit of the date on the form, all the while tutting loudly.)

C: Are you Bed?

BOOB 2: Marry bed, marry bed. Only 30 day.

C: I have to marry Bed for 30 days?

(BOOB 2 points at an official-looking document under the glass top of his desk. Then he fills in the second digit of the date, shaking his head gravely.)

BOOB 2: No no no. You lookee. You Singapooh. You group 2.

(The document turns out to be a list of 3 groups of countries. Singapore is placed under Group 2, along with what looks like a squillion other countries.)

C: How many people has Bed married?

BOOB 2: Yes. Singapooh. Group 2. Only 30 day.

L: You mean our visa?

BOOB 2: No no no. You visa.

C: But when we applied for the visa in the Bolivian Embassy in Rio de Janeiro, the man there gave us 90 days.

BOOB 2: Only 30 day. Singapooh.

C: He gave us 90 days.

(BOOB 2 fills in the 3rd digit of the date on the overstay forms, now looking at us craftily.)

BOOB 2: Where 90 day? Where? You visa, in you passport Singapooh, where?

C: The entry visa stamp is here.

BOOB 2: Where say 90 day?

C: You guys made the stamps. You’re telling me you forgot to manufacture stamps with “90” or “30” on them?

(BOOB 2 sighs dramatically and fills in the 4th digit of the date.)

BOOB 2: No say 90 day. Singapooh only 30 day. You lookee, group 2. Marry bed. Marry serious.

C: Make up your mind.

BOOB 2: No marry good.

C: Can’t you call the guy in Rio and verify this? There must be an official record of our visas in his office.

BOOB 2: No no no. You stay 32 day total. Singapooh group 2, only 30 day visa. Big problem.

C: There’s a serial number on the entry visa. Check your records. We were given 90 days.

(BOOB 2 fills in the 5th digit of the date on the overstay forms, then looks up at us and gesticulates at the forms.)

BOOB 2: Muy serious. Writing form, see? Stay more 2 day. Marry bed.

C: Ok, you’re not going to check your records, you’re not going to check with the guy in Rio, you’re not verifying anything, your official document on your table says we’re in Group 2 but it doesn’t indicate anywhere what group 2 is or the duration of its visa, so why am I supposed to believe you?

BOOB 2: Yes. Marry bed. You lookee, writing form, big problem for you.

C: Fine, so what am I supposed to do now?

BOOB 2: Yes! Fine!!!

C: So we pay a fine?

(BOOB 2 leapts out of his chair and does a little dance of pure joy, then commands us to follow him back to BOOB 1.)

BOOB 2: Marry bed!! Fine!!!!

BOOB 1: Bed!!! Fine!!!!

C: …How much is it?

BOOBS together: 30 Bolivianos 1 day 1 person! 2 day 2 person! 120 Bolivianos total!

(120 Bolivianos is the equivalent of about 24 Singapore dollars. It isn’t a lot, but C, who had been steadily turning a deep and ominous shade of purple, finally snaps. Birds fell out of the sky and Liz chikaboomed like a very convincing peal of thunder, which shook the foundations of the Bolivian Immigration Office.)

C: YOU CORRUPTED CHEATS, MAY THY SAGGY MAN BOOBS SLAP THEE IN THY FACES EVERYTIME YOU RUN!

BOOBS: Yes!!

C: Yes!!

BOOBS: YESS!! Marry bed! 120 Bolivianos!

C: I don’t have 120 Bolivianos, you smelly saggy man!

BOOB 1: No 120 Bolivianos??

(The BOOBs walk away to confer. C and L are left standing there, with no choice but to patiently wait for their fates. At this point, SOD, the security guard on door duty at the Immigration office, swaggers in and grins at us.)

SOD: Hola chicas! Como estan!

C & L: Hola.

SOD: You like Bolivia?

C & L (slightly puzzled): Um. Yes?

SOD: You like Lake Titicaca?

C & L: Yes. It’s nice.

SOD: And Copacabana?

C & L: Yes, It’s a nice place.

SOD: Mountains, beach?

C & L: Yes, they’re very pretty. Bolivia is a very beautiful country.

SOD: Tranquillo.* (*Meaning “calm down”)

C: …… What, did I say “pretty” with too much passion?

SOD: Yes. Tranquillo amigas. Honda Mitsubishi.

(The BOOBs return, and SOD swaggers out to stand guard at the door again.)

BOOB 1: No 120 Bolivianos? How much?

(C & L and L empty their wallets onto BOOB 1’s desk. Thankfully, a total of only 72.60 Bs. At this point, however, our Canadian-Chinese friend, Da, comes flapping in to find out if we’re going to prison. We’d gotten to know him only a few days ago, at a hostel. We unceremoniously shove him out, but alas and alack, the BOOBs see him.)

BOOB 1: You ask money from you friend.

C: He’s not our friend. He’s the bus driver.

BOOB 1: No bus driver. He no Bolivian.

C: He’s a Japanese bus driver.

BOOB 1: Yes. He have passport. You friend. You asking more 50 Bolivianos for fine.

C: No, you listen to me, sir sagalot. He Japanese bus driver. Always carry passport around. Good luck for driving bus.

BOOB 1: No friend?

C: No. We don’t have friends.

BOOB 1: No 120 Bolivianos?

C: No. Only 72.60. I can give you a TicTac sweet if you want.

(BOOB 1 stares glumly down at the pile of sticky dollar notes and pitiful coins on his table. Then he gives C her exit stamp and hands both passports back before sweeping the notes into his drawer. BOOB 2, in the meantime, has put his overstay forms away for use against the next unsuspecting traveler.)

L: Gracias.

C: If you don’t want the 60 centavos, can I have them?

(BOOB 1 glares at C, then opens the drawer again and sweeps the coins in. At the doorway, C & L have to walk past SOD, who’s posing in a very manly fashion against the wall of the Immigration building.)

SOD: Sayonara hai hai hai!

C: Are you perhaps the lovechild of a sheep and a farmer?

SOD: Toyota byebye!

C: I hope your wall falls on you.

SOD was the same man who, after checking our passports at the entrance of the Immigration Office, cheerfully announced “Konichiwa Japon!”. He felt the need to repeat it several times, even after Cheryl politely informed him that “we’re not from Japan. The very big word on our passports reads ‘SINGAPORE’”.

We wish SOD all the best in coping with his half-sheep-half-human mental state. As for the Bolivian Embassy Man in Rio (we haven’t forgotten you, you evil turnip), may your stupendously long armpit hair get trapped in the teeth of every escalator you ride.

Thus ends our tale of woe. We uneventfully walked across the dotted line into Peru, where we obtained our Peruvian entry visas without a hitch (although for some reason Cheryl was given 90 days and Liz only 30 days). We boarded our patiently waiting bus and trundled our way to the nearby Peruvian town of Puno. And only when we reached Puno did we realize, from checking with our hostel, that the Bolivian overstay fine is only supposed to be 15 Bolivianos per day, per person.

The folks in Puno still speak in hushed tones of the unearthly shrieks of rage they heard wafting through town that fateful night.

Take-home lessons:

1. Check which visa group you belong to before applying for your Bolivian visa, so you know how many days you can expect to be granted. Info available on the official Bolivian Immigration website.

2. When applying for your Bolivian visa, make sure the number of days for your visa is clearly written in your passport, next to your entry stamp.

3. If you’ve accidentally overstayed your Bolivian visa, note that the overstay fine is only 15 Bolivianos per person, per day.

4. You can bargain down the fine if you’ve overstayed your Bolivian visa (you know why!).

5. Carry as little Bolivianos with you as possible when exiting Bolivia/ obtaining your exit stamp at the Bolivian Immigration Office. This applies whether you’re leaving by boat, overland or by plane.

6. If travelling in a group, tell your friends who’ve cleared the exit immigration to stay outside of the Bolivian Immigration Office. Your overstay fine will increase proportionate to the number of friends you have with you, as you’ll be asked to borrow more money to pay it off.

7. When doing a land crossing from Copacabana (Bolivia) to Puno (Peru), make sure you get someone to tell your bus to wait for you if you’re having problems clearing immigration. Otherwise you’ll be stuck at the border, with no hostel nearby and infrequent taxis that will more than likely request extortionate sums of money to drive you to the nearest town.

8. MOST IMPORTANTLY: Bolivia is a beautiful country containing jaw-dropping scenery and a vibrant culture. It’s also poor, and many of the locals feel justified in charging you, the “rich tourist”, more money to supplement their meager incomes. It’s not ethical, but it happens, like it does in many poor countries. But it seldom goes beyond what most tourists can afford. So be careful with your money, be prepared to pay a little bit more than the locals, expect to do a lot of bargaining, and have a few curses ready for flinging around, just to make yourself feel better after a frustrating session of being treated like a stooge. But remember that this money issue does not lessen Bolivia’s grand beauty or reduce its fascinating culture.

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