Bolivia - Tupiza/Villazon

15th - 17th September ´08

Although we treated the southely towns of Tupiza and Villazon as mere overnight stopovers, they´re worth a brief mention in order to appreciate our road to Argentina. The initial 8 hour bus journey from Uyuni to Tupiza followed a similar hair-raising experience to our previous one... more cliff-winding roads, more bumpy terrain, more Bolivian odours, and more relief when it was finally over. Having arrived in sparsely populated Tupiza (approx. 20,000), the town offered little more than its wild-west´esque countryside (also the famous setting for the demise of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid). With tranquil surroundings and comfortable hostels, it would have been easy to sleep off a couple of days here... however, in our current frames of mind we were eager to reach Argentina.

Our Bolivian road misfortunes ceased to disappoint the following afternoon... another 2 hour delay saw us patiently waiting on the dusty, half-broken benches of the bus depot... when we eventually set off on the final leg of our journey to Villazon our unmaintained vehicle had been filled to the brim (aisle included) with passengers from another broken down bus (notice a pattern here?)... And what should have been a straightforward 3 hour road-trip turned into 8 whilst we queued on the side of a carriageway for roadworks to complete. Continuing through the pitch-black rural lands, load-carrying locals would embark and disembark from some bizarrely remote sections of our trail... there was a real community feel to the whole episode with our driver offering rides to anyone requiring them (regardless of capacity), and selfless locals helping the hitch-hikers on board. Unfortunately, our delayed arrival into Villazon had seen the closure of the Bolivian Immigration Office, trapping in this haphazard border town for the night (our circumstance being the only excuse for spending a night here). On the flip-side, we had shared our enduring experiences with 4 other travellers (a Dutch couple and 2 Mancunians... United supporters... not so flip!) with whom we ended the night with refreshing beer and tasteless pizza.

The following morning more disorganised chaos ensued as the 6 of us attempted to cross the border into Argentina. After 1 hour of queuing for a Bolivian exit stamp (amongst a congregation of Eva Morales protestors) followed by 2 hours of endless queuing for an Argentian entry stamp, we congratulated ourselves on reaching our goal. With no time to spare we hailed down a couple of taxis for the bus station where we were relieved to board the next bus to Salta.

Bolivia - Uyuni

13th - 14th September ´08

Our unforgettable bus journey from Potosi to Uyuni was our clearest reminder of why Bolivia was the poorest country in South America. As we waited in an overcrowded bus office in Potosi surrounded by indigenous folk, some of whom seemed to be carrying their entire life´s worth within 3 or 4 bagloads, we learnt that our designated bus had broken down... 2 hours later we were forced to travel with another operator where we were the only foreigners on board. But the fact that strange smelling locals were being herded onto our cattle-carrier at an annoying pace was a mere distraction in comparison to the sweaty palms created by the cliff-winding roads... coasting through the scenic but unbarricaded valley trails, our driver confidently turned the narrow blind corners at a frightening speed. We were thankful that our worn-torn tin-can hadn´t broken down in the remote dustlands, and further relieved when we finally approached our destination. The town of Uyuni itself appeared to be quite run down and lacking in any character, but it boasted the largest salt plains in the world which was the only reason anyone would consider stopping there. A 3 day circuit around the salars which encompassed additional lakes and volcanoes was the norm, but we had decided to focus our attention on certain highlights in just a single day... which began the morning after another shivering night.

We were joined by 4 other ´condiment´ explorers within our surprisingly pristine 4x4 jeep to take us to our first stop... Colchani... a small frontier mill-village to the Salars where each day tons of salt went through a manual process of purification and packaging before being transported throughout Bolivia. After some simple demonstrations, we boarded our cruiser once more to head into the blanket of whiteness... at an amazing 12,000 sq km these salt plains were apparently the residual remains of 3 adjoining lakes that had dried up many years ago. As we stood watching the pick-axe labourers extracting salt on the horizon, we were continually blinded by the reflections from our 2 coloured scenery... rich blue skies and brilliant white sands. By further drowning ourselves in the salar we arrived at the illegally constructed Sal Hotel - a cold, secluded building made from and housing furniture of salt... the ideal surroundings for a night of undisturbed sleep under the stars. And our final stop on this well-defined circuit was the plant-filled Isla de Pescada (island of fish)... a rocky development that strangely projected out of the nothingness. Following the steep cactus-decorated (some as high as 3 metres) trail to the top revealed more striking views of the plains... with our final descent bringing us to a welcoming gas-fired barbecue with the rest of the group. That night, whilst back in the desolate town of Uyuni, we were refused entry into 2 internet cafes because the owners thought that we were Israeli! ...errm... we had been called many things during our travels but that was definitely a first (the Israeli´s had obviously created a name for themselves in this place)... Next stop... Tupiza.

Bolivia - Potosi

12th September ´08

If you´ve seen or heard about the films ´The Devil´s Miner´or ´Cerro Rico´, then you will already know what Potosi is all about... mines... or more precisely silver mines. At 4060m, the world´s highest city revolves around a shocking culture that has claimed millions of lives over 3 centuries from appalling working conditions. Whilst Potosi once used to be the wealthiest city in South America, and although its silver deposits had depleted, thousands of miners still take to the shafts in order to extract other minerals which are sold to a smelter on a cooperative basis (finders keepers). Our travels were all about new and unique experiences, and entering the harrowing depths of these mines was something that fulfilled this criteria... so on the same day we arrived we found ourselves a guide to take us into the infamous Cerro Rico (rich mountain).

The life of our guide, Rosa, had entirely centred around mining and she had lost her father several years ago to the commonly fatal silicosis - the average age of a miner upon death being about 40. Having been joined by 2 other German Geezers, and after sizing up our headgear and overalls, our first stop enroute was the miners market where we purchased gifts for the workers (coca leaves, soft drinks, alcohol, and dynamite). Our arrival to the entrance of the mine produced a disturbing sight... a narrow, decayed and water-logged shaft. For over 3km we crouched, crawled, and climbed the labyrinth of dark tunnels where occasionally the temperatures exceeded 30 degrees, and at other times dropped below freezing. Against a background of fading explosions, we passed many coca-chewing miners, some as young as 14, pushing mineral loaded iron cast trolleys and to whom we offered our gifts. The energy rich coca leaves were an invaluable present known to reduce hunger and coldness, and helping the miners to work continuously. Rosa explained that once an individual decided upon a life within the mines he gave up his catholic religion to worship the miners god - the Devil... as we continued to gasp frantically through the oxygen deficient tunnels, Rosa led us to a shrine dominated by a penis-erected devil pagoda (surrounded by offerings of alcohol and tobacco). Our 3 hour experience within the mines had felt like an eternity and we were relieved when we could inhale normally once again. It had been extremely difficult to contemplate the life of a miner... a mere few hours in the tunnel had proved unbelievably tough and shocking. Exhausted, we returned to our human-sized fridge (the nights were bitterly cold at 4km above sea level) in preparation for our next stop... Uyuni.

Bolivia - Sucre

9th - 11th September ´08

Sucre was a great relaxation town, and we really needed to unwind for a few days after our Amazonian adventures. Having checked into a characteristc casa de hospedajes with the comforts of a hot shower and soft bed, our intentions to rest on our initial night were shortlived... we had arrived during the ´Festival de Virgen Guadaloupe´. Against a backdrop of sky-illuminating fireworks, a lively procession of colourfully dressed traditional dancers and musicians proudly flowed through the central plaza. The Sureños were very religious people, and in fact for several hours before the rhythmic beats of the festival began, the entire town had shut down. It was a unique experience with noticeably very few standing observers... most of the locals were involved in the celebrations in one way or another.

Whilst dominated by rich whitewashed architecture, the cultural heritage site of Sucre used to be the capital of Bolivia before it was usurped by La Paz some time ago. However, the fact that it still remained the judicial capital meant that it was an ideal place to stage protests against the constitutions of the very disliked Evo Morales. And it was for this exact reason that we were forced to fly to Sucre... several man-made road blocks had created very limited access into and out of the town. Acordingly, for the next 2 days we lounged and lingered about the many cafe patios of this isolated city before managing to book ourselves onto a bus going southwards. Next stop... Potosi.

Bolivia - Rurrenabaque (Amazon)

4th - 8th September ´08

The time had come to remove ourselves from all creature comforts and head out to Bolivia´s slice of the Amazon Basin. Our small, 18-seater carrier from La Paz to Rurrenabaque was like something out of the movies... as well as displaying an open cockpit, our aircraft glided within touching distance of the majestic, cloud-breaking mountains and canyons. Circling down to the makeshift runway, we were enveloped by the rich, green flora of the jungle... and the tropical humidity was a welcoming change from La Paz´s elevated coolness. Once again, our 45 minute flight had introduced us to an Australian who was coincidentally in the same tour group as us for the following morning... on arrival the 3 of us headed out to the Monkey Bar for some jungle juice and a bite to eat. Rurrenabaque itself was a small and lively frontier town to the lush surrounding rainforest... it´s welcoming and well-equipped community made an ideal entrypoint to the jungle.

The next morning, we arose early to meet our experienced guide, Ulfredo, and to begin our journey into the heart of the Amazon. A dusty and bumpy 3 hour jeep ride through savannah-like grasslands brought us to the mouth of the Yacuma River where we boarded a motorised, dugout canoe. Powering our way down the enclosed, swamp-coloured waters we were able to spot many forms of Amazonian wildlife: the open-jawed, motionless alligators; the elusive, swinging monkeys; the capybaras that resembled Gujarati people (brown, hairy and vegetarian); the camouflaged lizards; the slow-moving turtles; and a whole host of multicoloured, large-winged birds. After 3 heat-intensive but magical hours along the murky river, we arrived at the bank-located jungle ecolodge - our home for the next 2 nights. Set upon wooden stilts and with tree-hidden interlinking walkways, these very basic cabins housed 2 hard mosquito-netted beds and nothing more... the limited cold water was our only luxury. Our first use of the dark, half-sheltered bathroom revealed some friendly local inhabitants in the toilet-water... frogs... the skilled use of a torch was required. Following a brief settling-in period and a simple dinner, we took to the pitch black waters again equipped with flashlights. Shining our torches along the banks of the river revealed hundreds of pairs of glowing eyes... alligators. As Ulfredo cut off the engine to our canoe, it was a surreal experience laying afloat in the middle of the Amazon with only the echoing voices of the eerie wilderness to break the silence. That night, the tropical weather turned to produce some hard rain and freezing temperatures.

The following morning, we trekked through the waist-high grasslands for 3 hours in search of anacondas. Due to the cooler climate, we were forced to track down these 5-8 metre snakes within the hollow openings of the trees where they sought warmth instead of within the swamps like we had initially imagined. As we hiked deeper into the pampas Ulfredo led us to within touching distance of several anacondas, some that were sexually intertwined. We spent some of the afternoon lying in hammocks and playing foot-volleyball within our ecolodge before boarding our canoe once more for the next activity on the agenda... piranha-fishing. There was a real knack to hooking these sharp-teethed fish, and after some wasteful bait, we caught an array of piranhas, sardines and catfish (naturally we immediately released them... we were on an ecofriendly tour after all). Later that evening, whilst watching the brightly coloured sunset from the balconies of our lodge, we enjoyed a bottle of wine that had been given to us as a gift from our guide.

The next morning we were awoken abruptly to the sound of howling monkeys that were mischieviously throwing objects at our cabin... this was monkey-war and we considered hurtling the objects back at them. But we refrained, and after some breakfast we headed out to an area of the Yacuma River which was inhabited by pink dolphins. The colour of these graceful creatures had naturally evolved over time when a volcanic eruption 500 years ago had caused the mountain to split trapping many sea water animals within the Amazonian rivers. We spent some time admiring the dolphins before Ulfredo introduced us to the ´friendly´ but territorial alligator, Pedro. As we hesitantly stroked his tough reptilian skin, Ulfredo urged us to stand directly in front of Pedro and to be alert. Once again, it was a unique and strangely satisfying feeling being so close to a perceptively dangerous animal. And our brief encounter with this alligator marked the end of the tour. As we said our farewells to the group, we knew we had been very fortunate with our Amazonian experience both in terms of wildlife and also with our native guide... it was undoubtedly one of the highlights of our South American travels so far. So, our long-winded return journey back to La Paz continued that evening from where we would catch a flight to Sucre the following afternoon.

Bolivia - La Paz

2nd - 3rd September ´08

Our Yunguyo border crossing from Peru to Bolivia was relatively straightforward, albeit a little bizarre... the horror stories that we had heard and read about thankfully never materialised - 2 bus changes, 1km of backpack walking, 1 lake crossing and we were on our way to La Paz. As we approached the highest capital city (de facto) in the world (3660m), we were presented with a sensational canyon in which colonial buildings spilled downwards and on arriving in the town centre, indigenous women sporting perfectly perched bowler hats roamed the market-filled streets. On board our 8 hour road-trip we had befriended an Irish couple who joined us in finding accommodation... at almost 4km above sea-level, staggering up the steep alleyways meant that we were repeatedly gasping for breath (an even moreso with our backpacks on). Having had a minimal biscuit-rich bus lunch earlier that afternoon, the 4 of us happily indulged in falafels and beer that night.

Our experiences in South America wouldn´t quite be complete without a visit to the Amazon Basin, and La Paz proved to be the ideal base to do so from. The following morning, after booking ourselves on a jungle trip to Rurrenabaque with the recommended Indigena Tours, we aimlessly roamed the congested plazas, the snake-shaped alleyways, and in particular the Mercado de las Brujas - Witches Market... having stalls overflowing with spells and potions, the eagle-eyed vendors here also sold shrivelled llama foetuses which were considered good-luck charms. That evening whilst in an internet cafe, we were harmlessly approached by a well-spoken, but frail and ragged looking ex-convict who had been released from Santa Cruz prison that very day... we guessed that our conversation with him was just his way of appreciating freedom. This prison had become a real attraction amongst underground travellers... paying 250 Bolivianos to the guards would allow you entry into the prison where you could converse and come face-to-face with the convicts (quite strange paying to go to prison). We had heard that it was mostly full of drug-dealers whose entire families would live inside with them... unique, but disturbing at the same time which is why we had decided against the visit. Next stop... the Amazon.