Welcome to Bolivia. Chau Argentina.

Having decided to chance it on our leaky shock (and with the wooden block trick up our sleeves), we went up, up and out, across the high plains of northern Argentina. A sign at the border town reminded us of how much of Argentina we had come to know.

We crossed the border between La Quiaca, Argentina and Villazon, Bolivia, at about sunset time. The Bolivian customs official smiled broadly, addressed us by the names he'd read from our passports, and shook our hands as he bid us "bienvenidos a Bolivia!". Seconds after that, the Argentine customs official stomped into the same office and demanded the paperwork for our bike, which I had recently handed to his colleague on the other side of the river separating the two countries. I politely explained to the uppity man that he was wrong. Of course, he contradicted me, so I invited him to check with said colleague. He flapped out of the office, not to return. Chau, Argentina. Don't cry for us.

We sorted some accommodation, hot shower and all, some tucker (chicken and chips - welcome to Bolivia!)

and started to feel as though we were in a different country. Nice one. Argentina was good to us, but never would we have considered spending nearly four months there.

The streets of Villazon are packed with markets - lots of cheap Chinese imports - and made for an interesting introduction to the country when we went downtown in the morning. We also got an idea of the Bolivian work ethic as we watched people carrying truckloads of imports across the bridge from Argentina on their backs.

Despite warnings that the police would object, we managed this very necessary photo in the very first metres of Bolivia! Cheers!