"El Chauffer" es "El Cook" Tambien

After climbing from the depths of La Paz we headed south for Oruro, to catch the finest train Boliva could offer to Uyuni. Well actually, the finest train Italy off loaded to Chile who subsequently off loaded it to Bolivia because it was outdated… One night in Oruro was more than enough. Apparently this place comes alive on Ash Wednesday when everyone and their granny dances the streets in phsycadelic devil costumes. This next years celebrations may be hampered by the fact that all the streets and pavements are dug up, but we'll leave that up to the half dozen campesina women who are rebuilding them to fix. Not quite knowing what to expect when we hit the train station we were pleasantly surprised to find our $100 bolivars each had paid off with comfy seats and lots of leg room. Definitely a much better option than the 10 hour bus journey on an unmade road. We were even more pleasantly surprised when a Lonely Liar (LP) "amazing train ride" turned out to be that, not 10 hours of sucking diesel fumes. OK, we sucked in air freshener and obscene French B.O. instead but enough said about that.

Arriving in what has to be as close to the end of the earth as we’ve come across so far we did the now familiar trawl around the accommodation, searching for hot water and dodging tour touts (who books a three day tour at midnight on a dark street!?). Finally settled on the less than palatial Palace Hotel and crashed for the night.
With a fortifying white bread and luke warm tea breakfast under our belt we set off to do the rounds of the tour agencies. Nodding in now familiar disbelief at their assurances of top quality service we finally settled on Andrea Tours, with their solemn warnings that “you can’t trust what other companies say” ringing in our ears. Kaz then expertly bargained off the “better quality” surcharge that we knew nobody else was paying. We decided to take their promises of “a nice small group with just the four of you, the cook and the driver” with a pinch of salt too.
Knowing that we were going to spend the next 3 days cooped up in a 4x4 we decided to hike out to the local rubbish dump, and visit el cemetario de trens. This collection of steam engines, carriages, trucks, rolling stock and unidentifiable junk lies rusting in the desert, abandoned as the Bolivian rail system crumbles. Not your average tourist destination but a great opportunity for Stu to clog the camera with B&W junk…
For once our tour didn’t start at sparrow fart (Yee-Ha!), leaving us enough time to take in a fantastic breaky at a nearby pizza restaurant (don’t ask) before joining the 4x4 with the 2 chirpy Colombian girls and a French lady who had been tagged on to our “small” group. Or had we been tagged on to theirs? Who knows? Sometimes you just have to go with the flow. Never mind, seven, with the German couple who signed up with us does go into a land cruiser but only if “ el choffer is el cook tambien”. Thank god we´d had a hearty breaky. One point to cynicism!

Our first stop was predictably the train cemetery before being whisked of to the first star attraction, the Salar de Uyuni. This “wet” salt plain is what is left of a giant prehistoric lake which used to cover this part of the world. Split up by plate tectonics into Lake Titicaca, a lake outside Santa Cruz and the 12,000 square km Salar de Uyuni it’s a bizarre combination of flat, dazzling white salt and bright blue skies, stretching for as far as the eye can see. The salt flat is classed as wet because during the wet season it lies under 30-40cm of water. Don´t drown – you´d probably be pickled first come to think of it! Even during the dry season if you dig down 20cm the salt is saturated with water. Instead of digging we took a lesson in daft photography from the Germans. No, Kaz hasn’t been kidnapped by a tribe of Amazonian head hunters and shrunk!




Next stop was the salt hotel, half abandoned (problems with the sewerage system – don’t eat yellow salt!) it’s now only used by cyclists crossing the immense flats by pedal power. It’s built almost entirely from solid blocks of salt and is complete with swimming pool and salt block loungers. Oh hammock, where are you now? A short drive away was our lunch stop, on the Isla de Pescadores. Though we never worked out what kind of fish swims around here.

The volcanic island jutting up from the solid salt lake is covered in immense cacti which grow about 1-2cm a year. With the tallest being over 12m high some of them must be around a thousand years old. Being the tallest feature around, wheezing to the top of the island (the salar is at about 4200m) gave great views of, erm, the salt. 3pm – did someone mention lunch? Luckily our cook/choffer hadn’t cooked lunch in old engine oil and we were soon on our way to home for the night.

Given this was to be the “mas comodo” night another point was scored for cynicism. But after being crammed in the 4x4 we welcomed the opportunity to stretch our legs and walk to the pre-inca burial ground just outside the hamlet we were staying in. Belonging to the same culture who built the towers outside Puno on Lake Titicaca, these people buried their mummified dead in beehive like structures on a hill above the village. We certainly got our 5 Bolivars worth when on peering into the first chamber we found a skeleton, partially covered in skin. There were a lot of people still “at home” in the burial ground, a very creepy site. We toasted the dead with a beer and then headed back to our concrete cells for the night. With our electricity rationed to 2 hours a night it was a quick dinner and hit the sack (not too hard you might break something) by 9:30pm zzzzzzzzzzzz……………

Day 2 saw us hooning along desert for the most part, trying not to break our necks as most bumps slammed the back seat passengers into the roof. This area is highly volcanic, with the landscape stained with wild colours from the chemicals spewed out over time. The main chemical seemed to be sulphur (pooooh!), borax and arsenic (not too tastey). No swimming for us then in the many lakes we passed, though the thousands of flamingos were enjoying the algae. Lucky for us – these bright pink fellas were very cute and gave us plenty of great snaps if you could dodge sinking into the chemical ooze which lined the lakes to get close enough for the perfect shot. We tried! The only other wildlife we passed were Vicuñas (little llamas), looking decidedly lost in the barren desert – we never worked out what they were eating. These cuties are endangered with the price of putting one on the dinner table – 5 years in San Pedro – no thanks!

After a quick lunch stop (we wondered where the rest of our octopus chicken went) and some more desert hooning we stopped at the other big tour office photo, el arbol de piedra. This stone tree has been carved over the years by the 120kph winds which blow during the winter. The rocky outcrops have all been sculpted, leaving great opportunities for Stu to risk breaking his leg days from the nearest hospital…Kaz stood by to snap some terrific bouldering pics and hopefully catch him when he decided to Spiderman up to the highest plateau and do an impersonation of Rio´s Christ the Redeemer.

Whakiest sight of the day was left to last, Laguna Colorada. A massive lake which looked like it had been filled with tomato soup. Not recommended for consumption, the bright red colour is caused by micro organisims – again the flamingos found this tastey. The colour of the lake changes depending on how windy it is with windy weather turning it from sopa de tomate to zuma de naranja.

Night two, the more “rustic” option lived up to its name. We were eventually able to talk the young lad of the “house” to throw a wee fire together to try to heat the place up a bit which was marginally successful. More successful was our blanket theft and lots of over-excited games of “spoons”. Thanks for teaching us this one Gayle, it was a hit with all 3 nationalities and warmed our fingers up in the process. Will have to try to remember the rules for the German game, President, which was also good.

Day 3 found us rudely awakened and stumbling around in the dark at 4am (no electricity or breakfast!) to hot foot it to the spewing, stinky geysers. The minus 6 degree temperature dampened our enthusiasm somewhat but we were assured this was the best time to see them in action. They were definitely in action and very impressive. Bubble, bubble, bubble, phweeeeeew – Stu!! It was a relief to squeeze together into the jeep and share body warmth again.


Our second cold treat was a stop by a natural thermal pool. The actual pool was deliciously hot but it was still only 6:30am, the surrounding ground was frozen and we had to strip down to our togs al fresco – brrrrrrrrrrrrr……. There were many refusals as the debate as to whether is was better to freeze and then get into the hot tub or stay dressed and then the debate about how then to get back out heated up. Stu was quick to take the plunge (mad boy!) and he somehow talked Kaz into following. Pretty quickly the hot tub was full of dirty but happy gringos partaking in their first hot bath in months – aaaaaaaaahhh.

We got out ooohing and aaaahhhing, hopping around on the icy ground and hoping like hell the 2 dozen eggs that had travelled across the desert with us were finally sizzling in the pan for breakfast…..Unfortunately no, white bread and luke warm tea did the rounds again. At this point the dulce de leche had run out and we were looking forward to getting the hell out of Bolivia.

Final stop before the Chilean border was one of the most beautiful and peaceful, Laguna Verde. The chemical concoction of the lake mixes arsenic and copper to creates a perfectly mirrored top which reflects the volcano behind the lake – pretty! Group photo – tick. We were now on the way back to Chile to complete our loop of South America – YEE HA!

With the budget cringing in the corner, we decided to skip through Chile as quickly as possible with a tourist bus, semi-cama bus, walk (when the semi-cama bus dropped us in the wrong spot), taxi, taxi, taxi, overnight bus, collective combo which left us reeling. Where do we find the stamina!? The only solution was a three star hotel in Peru, complete with BATH and room service. But how much are those scrambled eggs anyway?

We rest our weary bods for one more night here before flying to Lima to catch the legendary TACA/United/frequent flyer farce flight to Guatemala. Wish us luck, we hope the next blog is from Central America.

Lots of love, Kaz and Stu

Meal of the week: room service please! OK, the food was mediocre but as long as we don’t have to go anywhere, bring it on!

Sight of the week: the whole south west corner of Bolivia – WOW!

Arse of the week #1: Rewriting this blog from scratch 4 times, grrrrrrrr… Then taking another 5 days to get the pictures in!

Arse of the week#2: “El choffer es el cook tambien”

Arse of the week#3: Chilean hotel prices

Arse of the week #4: Eggs with breakfast at Hotel El Meson; 2 soles on day one, 5 soles on day two, 4 soles on day three and 6 soles on day four???

Bargain of the week: Day five at Hotel El Meson; upgrading to a Desayuno Americano and get scrambled eggs and fresh OJ with breaky for just 2 soles!

Gaffe of the week: A sleepy Stu going to bed and leaving the camera connected to the computer –doh!