BOLIVIA
Bolivia, a country of extreme heights, temperatures and political passions. With possibly the worst roads and buses in the western hemisphere the land locked terrain offers something unique for intrepid wanderers. Intending to stay for two weeks we stayed six. The first few days were spent in La Paz and then we headed out to the south west entering the stunning 12000 square mile Salar Salt Desert through the backdoor of the Quebrada gorge country around Tupiza (where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid took their last payroll).
La Paz was interesting spilling down a hill at one end of a valley with the houses clinging to the montainsides and stretching down the valley where the snow capped Mount Illiami backdropped the scene. A very busy city with market stalls everywhere making things loud and thanks to the total lack of emission controls, smoggy. Walking is a cautious performance of dash and dodge at every street crossing due to the absence of traffic lights. Every motors rev seems to spew out a bilious black exhaust and by late afternoon between the smoke and altitude it can be dangerous if you are in bad health. There seems to be a constant cacophony of people hacking and coughing.
We spent several days here exploring that included watching three or four protests close down the roads. It seems to be the national sport. One night a traditional street fiesta burst out of nowhere below our hotel window at 1 am. With fireworks exploding so close to the hotel we thought it prudent to shut the windows. I thought we were under attack by the Shining Path until I saw the Chola women (yes, that is what you call the ladies wearing those bowler derby hats) in their wide multi layed skirts dancing to a brass band that was joyously out of tempo and tune. It went on for an hour and then disappeared just as suddenly. Leaving for the south early the next morning we never found out what that was all about. We caught the bus to Oruro and from there the overnight train to Tupiza arriving at 4am wandering the much warmer streets till we found our hotel. After a couple of days we joined up with a young Dutch couple Wouter and Michelle heading out for a four day high altitude jeep trip through partially roadless country. It was cold and barely breathable at times with thin, hard air but the view made it worth every bump in the road. We saw dry season gorge country, multicoloured by mineral content and sculpted by the torrential water from rainy season. At 5400 meters geysers in the frigid cold coexisted with flamingos that somehow in evolution had missed a turn from the Caribbean and live well feeding on the frigid climate of the high alto salt lagoons. Finishing up at wind swept Uyuni we took an overnight bus ride up through Potosi pass Montana Cerro Rico. For two hundred years Spain's economy depended on the silver dug from the mountain at a cost of eight million lives. Then we descended into Sucre the White City and home to the South American Independence movement, a tranquil university town. Meaning to stay only two days we made the mistake of checking out the Spanish school Fenix and immediately got hooked by the great atmosphere. In fact if we hadn´t had tickets back to Sea Cycle from Lima I swear we would still be there staying at La Dolce Vita our favourite Hostal yacking it up around the communal kitchen with all the younger backpackers. In the end time ran out and we headed back to La Paz spending a few days before crossing the border again and running down to Arequipa where we once again tagged up with Edison who had helped us with rooms the first visit three months earlier and then having had enough of bus rides we let the moths out of our wallets and flew back to Lima for a couple of days R & R before heading home to SeaCycle in Panama.
to be continue
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