Saturday, Sept. 13, 2003 - 9:18 p.m.
After 5 days and getting down to 9 dollars worth of Bolivianos in my pocket, I once again returned to the bank, hoping to get a cash advance on my credit card. If I was unsuccessful, I planned to cash one small travelers check and then be forced to have my parents wire me money as a last resort.
I returned to one of the major banks (the other one was closed), waited about half an hour, then after the teller tried to process my request, uttered the fateful words, it wouldn't work. My dad had called VISA the day before, found out there's no problem with my account & they said the bank in Bolivia could call them toll-free and they could assist them. But I know the banks wouldn't make any phone calls for me, since a toll free or international collect all still costs money. Plus what was the chances the bank teller spoke fluent English? My heart rate increased as I began to explain I'd talked to my bank and there wasn't a problem with my account. The bank employee told me the problem was there was no system online to process my request. They sent me to another bank that they said was online. I was assuered they were open that day (Saturday).
Fingers crossed I walked down what is informally called "Wall Street", due to the number of banks there. I entered the second bank which just looked like a regular office building. The security guard at the door directed me to the 11th floor. I took the elevator and found, not a bank, but an empty office except a cleaning lady who sent me to the top floor, #13. I took the stairs to find two unmarked doors. This didn't look very promising! I knocked on one and after a few minutes a young latino guy answered the door and at first I thought I had someone's personal apartment. I explained I was looking for a bank to do a cash advance. I was led down a short hallway to an office room where 2 other guys sat in front of computers and I once again explained what I was trying to do. They took my credit card and started punching numbers into the computer and started making phone calls. At one point all 3 of them were on the phone, talking with people at other banks. I slowly realized that this was the "system", they were trying to authorize permission for me to get my cash advance. I had to show them my passport, like at any other bank and tell them the amount of cash I wanted.
After about half an hour they said "Listo!" ("ready!") They had gotten it approved at a bank, told me where it was and who to talk to. I was very relieved, however, not until the cash was in my hand could I completely relax.
I had to walk about half a mile to this other bank and wait there and finally got my money. The whole ordeal took about 3 hours. I was so happy to have cash finally. I'd gotten a substantial amount so that hopefully I don't have to go through this ordeal again until after I've left Bolivia.
I had lunch, hard cash in my pocket to burn, then returned to the hostal to move to the dormitory and book my jungle trip. Despite the fact that I had told the hostal yesterday that I wanted to move to the dorms, they were full.
Then I booked my jungle trip ("Raul, I'm going to the jungle!") & rented a sleeping bag. I wanted to leave the next day, Sunday, but there weren't any spaces on the flights. So I booked for Monday, eager to get going finally! Also, I wanted to go to the jungle and the pampas (a little cheaper), but I forgot to mention that until the next day, after I had paid. There was no refund.
That afternoon they put another traveler in my room, a Dutch girl named Nelly. She was really nice. She invited me out to dinner with some other people she'd met on her Pampas tour. It was nice to talk to someone who'd been there. She'd been in Bolivia for 2 months, studying Spanish and doing volunteer work, leaving tomorrow. I also met, thru Nelly, a guy from Argentina who apparently is involved in politics and the expose of shady dealing by political and military officials. He told us there is one region of Bolivia that produces 1500kg of cocaine every week! Also Nelly told me a scary story about her being robbed by a taxi driver in La Paz. Helene also had told me a really scary story of a girl she'd met who was robbed in Puno. I'm so glad I didn't know that story at the time I was there!
