An Annoying Tradition

We heard mention of a strike in Potosi before we left Uyuni, but little information was available since it had just begun the previous day.  Our four hour journey was cut short when the bus driver abruptly halted, pulled over, and dumped us on the side of the road, refusing to go any further.  We began the long walk up the mountain to Potosi.  Naturally, the town was on the very top of a tall mountain.  We encountered a group of ladies who were struggling with their luggage, and Bev and I offered to help them carry it. 

When Bolivians protest, they set up road blocks in order to disrupt transportation.  The first road block we encountered was a long flaming log laying across the length of the road.  Following this was a hug pile of rocks which looked like they had been dumped in the middle of the road with a bulldozer.  Every hundred meters or so, we came across something: rocks, car tires, logs.  When we finally reached Potosi, we saw that they had parked their cars across all the intersections as well.  If all this didn't stop someone from attempting to cross, there were groups hostile residents marching around with sticks who could persuade them to do otherwise. 

It was dark when we finally reached the bus station.  Our hopes were again dashed when we saw hordes of travelers sitting on their backpacks outside the building.  Everyone was stuck.  Nobody was going in or out of Potosi.  This was terrible news, not just because we didn't want to hang around this cold, boring town, but we had nonrefundable plane tickets back to the states in just a couple days.  We were told that there might be a bus later that night.  Hours later, we waited outside the station in the freezing cold, hoping that some miracle would occur.  There was no bus, but a lady said that four taxis were on their way.  We resolved to get on one of them.  However, we weren't the only ones.  Dozens of people, just like us, stood there, looking down the street, waiting to see approaching headlights.  When the first taxi appeared, everyone charged toward it and attempted to hurl themselves inside.  The same thing happened with the next two.  It didn't look good, and we knew we had to get on that last taxi.  By pure luck, we did.  We were so happy to finally be in a vehicle, heading away from that place.  The fact that we managed to escape Potosi that very night is a testament to our unwavering determination to do whatever it took, even if it meant plowing in front of mothers with toddlers. 
                    
The strike in Potosi began on July 6 and still continues today.  The residents are demanding improvements to infrastructure such as more hospitals, a hydroelectric plant, more roads, factories, and an international airport.  These aren't unrealistic desires, especially the hospital.  Potosi is home to the largest silver mine in the world, and they bring a lot of wealth to the country.  Since the government was ignoring them, they went to La Paz, held a demonstration and threw rocks at the Ministry of Government building.  On Aug 2, it was suspended for 12 hours because the people of Potosi had run out of food, petrol, and money.  After procuring these much needed items, they conveniently began the strike again. 

President Evo Morales has yet to respond to their demands, but they remain hopeful.  Will their strike work?  Possibly.  Demonstrations are common in Bolivia, and they will protest anything.  In February 2,000, people took to the streets demanding that the show The Simpsons be played more often.  They chanted "No Simpsons, No Peace."  They got their wish.  Television stations devoted more time to the show. 

In Sucre, we ran into the ladies again.  We found out they lived in Santa Cruz which was our next destination, so we arranged to meet them at a restaurant there. 

We had a great evening, chatting, and sampling some typical food of the region.  Bev and I ordered corn and cheese tamales boiled in their husk and sonso, a cheesy, yucca quiche.

The Southwest Circuit

Eventually, the  salt flats gave way to desert where the higher elevation made it even colder. 

We saw lots of llamas, vicunas, ducks, and birds. 

There were many lakes, all unique in some way.  My favorite was Laguna Colorada where algae and minerals make the water pink.  Flamingoes gather to dip their necks to feed or gracefully strut around in the shallow water.  We stayed nearby in a small town which was nothing but a ramshackle cluster of hostels.  Overnight, the condensation on the window of our room actually froze.

There are many volcanoes in the area, and we stopped to check out a few fumaroles where the ground broke open to unleash the earth's stinky farts.

The thermal pool was the perfect exclamation point to the tour.  We relaxed in the water and thawed our frozen toes.

During the three day tour, we spent a lot of time driving, but the scenery was spectacular, and we often got out to explore the sandstone formations.

Salty Dreams

Our guide dumped us off here to wait for the sunset.  With two hours to kill, we ended up taking lots of photographs which highlight the unique perspective of the salt flats. 

Our guide was perfectly adequate.  He safely drove us from place to place.  He pointed out each lagoon and told us the name.  That was, however, the only information he willingly supplied.  It wasn't that he didn't have the information.  When asked a question, he always knew the answer.  He just didn't seem to think his job went beyond being a chauffeur.  When we arrived at each spot, it was always the same.  He simply waved his hand in the direction we should go, walked to the side of the car to take a leak, and chatted with other guides if there were any in the vicinity.

After watching the sun descend into the mountains, we headed back to the Land Rover in the rosy twilight.

True to its name, the salt hotel was in fact made of salt.  Salt bricks formed the walls.  Even our beds were made of salt.  I had to move my pillow away from the headboard though because salt granules kept sprinkling down every time I touched it.  The hotel was basic, but it was much better than I had anticipated.  The bathroom was clean, and dinner was excellent.  It began with a traditional Bolivian soup which was followed with an omelet, fries, and banana chips.  Although the night was very cold, and the room unheated, we stayed warm in our beds with 4 heavy blankets and our rented sleeping bags.