The arrival in Cochabamba bus terminal reminded me of the airport in Cairo. There was sheer chaos, hundreds and hundreds of people swarming about the place with no less than two dozen different bus companies offering rides to all parts of Bolivia. Eventually I escaped the throng of bodies and emerged into the night with only small glimmer of knowledge which way to head toward the city centre.

That knowledge was wrong and I ended up walking through the markets that were more packed with people than the bus terminal. I started to get that feeling I was going in the wrong direction and found a small space on the corner of the road to dismount my pack and pull out the Lonely Planet. Unfortunately the LP only gives you the map to the city centres and a vague arrow point off the map saying the bus terminal is X kilometres in that direction. Eventually I found a street that was on the map and made my way toward a cluster of hostals.

It was getting late at this point and I hadn’t eaten all day, so I was eager to find a
place to drop my pack off at and find somewhere to eat. Hostal after hostal turned me away, they were all full. The only other time this had happened was back in Ica, Peru, when it was Semana Santa, but on this occasion there wasn’t a national holiday, all the LP recommended hostals in this particular area were
filled up. As it approached 9pm I looked up at the status of Jesus overlooking the city, perched on the nearby hilltop, and a hotel on the main road caught my eye – it was called King Jesus. I decided that Jesus can save me at this point as I was getting tired and hungry, and I entered the hotel and got a room for the night – no turning away from the manger for me!

Turns out Jesus is a bit of a rip off merchant. The hostel was $145Bs, but I ponied up the money and figured I’d have a bit of a luxurious nights’ stay before finding
somewhere cheaper the next day. The hotel was just like any other hostal I’d stayed at for a third of the price, and this hotel didn’t even have wifi internet. Breakfast was included, so silly me thought it would probably be a good one for this price. The next morning I got up expecting a hot breakfast and instead received the standard crusty bread and jam, with instant coffee. Disappointed I headed out and found a hostal for $50bs that had wifi. I even bumped into a couple that I had met back in Chachapoyas, Peru, staying there who were stranded in Cochabamba due to the protesters back in La Paz blockading the road.

Cochabamba is called the Garden City for a pretty good reason, compared at La Paz it’s a veritable Eden of tree lined streets and grassy plazas. After walking around and enjoying plazas and parks, I set my sights for Jesus standing guard over the city and walked in that direction. They have a chair lift to take people up to the top, or you can take the thousands of stairs that climb their way to the feet of Jesus. There is actually at sign at the top of the stairs that says in both Spanish and English warning people not to use the stairs as they’ll be assaulted or mugged. Awesome!

It was here in Cochabamba that I discovered that Bolivia has a love affair with coffee. The absence of coffee in Eucador and Peru had made me cynical that anyone in South America outside of Argentina actually drank coffee. But I could see the proper coffee machine in a café, and upon entering I could hear those familiar sounds of the ground coffee being dispensed, the barista working the machine, the steamer hissing foaming the milk. Dear god, they drank actual real coffee here!

I sat down and ordered a cappuccino unsure what to expect. Out came a delicious cappuccino with cream. My taste buds exploded with sensations I hadn’t felt for six months, and I had to immediately order a second. Sipping and savouring the second coffee I hear explosions outside of the café, which I recognised at those boom sticks the protesters had back in La Paz. Within minutes hundreds of people marched passed and onto the plaza across the road.

Boom, boom, boom, the explosions continued on for the next few days and it became very annoying very fast. At one point the protesters were around the corner from the hostal and the explosives were going over right overhead with disturbing loudness. My head started ringing after a while and I couldn’t help but lose any sympathy for their cause (the doctors are protesting over better medical
conditions or something).

The other love of Bolivia appears to be amazingly good food. I know Peru is insanely proud of their food, but Bolivia takes it to a new level and it’s far the best
food I’ve had so far (sorry Sonia!!). Bolivians also enjoy chilli and just about every restaurant I’ve visited has a Picante section and so far I’ve tried Mondongo (Chilli Pork) and Picante de Pollo (Chilli Chicken), both with the meat cooked in a thick chilli sauce served with maize or potatoes. Amazingly delicious.

Bolivia has also embraced a lot of western food, where you can get excellent hamburgers, pizzas and pastas. I’ve yet to have a bad spaghetti bolognese here, in fact it has been flat out excellent. And wonderfully cheap too, where you pay around $40Bs for a top meal and $20Bs for a 600ml beer – that’s about $9AUD!

One my last day in Cocha I decided to try a different café for coffee. Yep, still great. Loading up on way too much coffee I buzzed my way to the bus terminal and picked a bus out of the vast selection that was heading to Santa Cruz. On the
bus ride I barely slept, I had drank so much coffee over the past several days my body had overdosed and sleeping was not an option. All my brain could think about was whether Santa Cruz had good cafes, and that I needed to find one
first thing on arriving for a coffee.

Yes another coffee, need another coffee. Delicious delicious coffeeeeeeeeee!!!!