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. 

The Island

We drove across the highest salt flats on the planet, and eventually came to a mysterious mountain called Isla Incahuasi (Inca House Island).  It is literally a desert island in the middle of a place which was once Lake Tauca.  

Thousands of Trichoreus Cactus, very similar to the Saguaro, thrive in the harsh and rocky environment. 

As usual, my behavior was thoughtful and dignified in the presence of such grandeur.

Pass the Salt Please

At 3,669 meters, Uyuni is slightly higher in elevation than La Paz, but it is considerably colder with the wind chill and remote location.  At night, I wore two pair of socks, pants, two shirts, fleece jacket, gloves, and hat.  This wasn't enough, so I bought leggings and a hoody sweatshirt. 

From here, we loaded up into a Nissan Land Rover, the vehicle of choice for the salt flats.  Normally, they cram 6 people into one vehicle, but the other couple bought four spots, so Bev and I lucked out with a small group and extra leg room.  The three-day tour began with a visit to the Train Cemetery.  Huge metal carcasses, well past their life span, lay beside the track gathering dust, likely forever.  They were used to transport salt across Bolivia, Chile, and Argentina.  Now, they serve as a photo opportunity/playground for tourists who can't resist climbing all over them.

A 45 minute drive brought us to Colchani: population 528.  This is where the salt is processed for human and animal consumption.  25,000 tons are processed annually.  The process is fairly simple.  First, they make a pile of salt and let it dry for 5-10 days.  It is placed in a fire oven for an hour.  Then, it's crushed, and iodine is added (by law).  Finally, it is packaged by a teenager who simply scoops the salt into a plastic bag and seals it with a torch.  No scale is used.  We were told that if we wanted to purchase one, we could choose a bag that seemed heavier.

The Salar de Uyuni is one of the world's weirdest places.  It is vast.  It is empty.  It is enchanting.  The landscape creates a sense of exhilaration that causes you to run towards the blue sky of the Antiplano.  Hexagonal shaped salt tiles extend out like the brilliant white web of silk worms.  Nothing grows here.  It is just a thick layer of salt over an ancient lake.

Finding Jesus

 

The views out the bus window were spectacular.  This was good for two reasons.  I got to see the Central Highlands of Bolivia.  More importantly, the bus ride was over 8 hours, and it gave me something to do besides think about how I had to pee.

Everyone kept telling us that Cochabamba would be warm.  As you can see by my clothes, it wasn't.  The cold front that brought snow to La Paz also brought cooler temperatures to this region. 
                     
We visited the Cristo de la Concordia.  It's similar to the statue in Rio de Janiero except it's 44 cm taller.  They built it over 33 meters high, one meter for each year of Christ's life, and since he lived a little more than 33 years, they added a little extra.  I think they just wanted to outdo Brazil. 

Wild about the Amazon

Mechanical problems caused a six hour delay at the La Paz airport.  Finally, we boarded the small plane where every seat is a window seat.  It was a bumpy ride, and the stone buildings of La Paz faded away until we were flying over lush green mountains.  We landed with a thud on the tropical runway.  The airport consisted of exactly one room.  It only took a few minutes for staff to unload our luggage and walk it thirty feet over to us. 

The jungle town of Rurrenabaque is relaxed and warm, very different from the lively atmosphere in La Paz.  Tall mountains create a scenic backdrop, and a river snakes along the edge.  The town caters to the backpacker crowd by selling flip flops, sun screen, and pizza. 

We booked a 3-day tour of the Pampas, an area known for the wildlife.  It began with a three hour ride in a 4x4 Range Rover to Santa Rosa.  From there, we rode in canoe for another two hours of travel up the Beni River to our camp inside Parque Nacional Madidi. 

The first animals we saw were the famous Amazon River dolphins.  They are pink because their capillaries grow close to their skin.  The largest of all freshwater dolphins, they can grow up to nine feet long.  They are friendly, playful creatures who don't mind a bunch of tourists swimming beside them.

Our guide disliked questions, providing information, and tourists.  Despite this, we had fun and saw an abundance of wildlife. 

An alligator lived under the main cabin at camp.  It must have been used to people because we all took turns trying to touch it, and nobody lost a hand.

We encountered a large group of squirrel monkeys.  They are small and move quickly through the treetops. 

Over 900 species of birds live in the National Park.  The Hoatzin has a bright blue face and long spiky orange feathers that form a crest on its head.  They hang out in groups on low branches, near the river.   

Each morning, these tall birds walked around camp in search of large sticks for their nest. 

Although they are the largest rodent in the world, capybara are kind of cute.  They look like giant guinea pigs and are usually seen foraging in the grass or wading in a river. 

Getting High in La Paz

La Paz has the distinction of being the highest capital in South America.  It is built within a large canyon.  The city center is at the bottom, and most of the important landmarks are clustered in this area.  At 3,660 meters in elevation, exploring the town is a test of both the legs and lungs.

We stayed at a hostel just three blocks from San Francisco Cathedral, the most iconic of all the churches.  In the evening, we ate oranges and watched a street performance.  It was the typical kind of humor of the region.  In one skit, a man was dressed up as a woman, and another man attempted to get "her" to dance with him. 

The view is outstanding.  Brick buildings with terra cotta roofs cling to the edge of the canyon.  At night, thousands of lights shine in the darkness.

Plaza Murillo is a place where people gather to sit on benches, eat ice cream, and feed pigeons.  Several government buildings and a cathedral surround the square.  We arrived at the Presidential Palace just in time to watch the changing of the guard.  On the Bolivian Congress Building, the clock spins in reverse as a testament to their heritage and identity as a country in the South.  It is meant to encourage unique and creative thinking. 

Crowded markets line the streets and are separated by product type.  They sell everything.  It is possible to wander from the clothing market to the light bulb market in a matter of minutes.  The Witches Market provides various herbs, potions, spices, amulets, and incense as remedies to any affliction.  The most disturbing items are the llama fetuses hanging on the edge of each booth. 

La Paz is dizzying in every way.  Unlike other South American capitals, it is not merely a launch pad for the rest of country.  It is a great place to explore, eat street food, and experience Bolivia's culture. 

Titi Khar'ka

A three hour boat trip took us across Lake Titicaca to the north end of Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun).  The lake is massive and appears to be an ocean.  With a depth of 457 meters, it's the largest lake in South America.

A guide led us around the Inca ruins and explained the history.  One area had a small pool of water which had been filtered through the rocks.  It produced a very sweet natural water source.  Our guide grabbed a plastic cup he had hidden behind a bush, filled it with the water and passed it around, so we could take a sip.  Then, he replaced the cup for the next group.  We pretended this wasn't disgusting and continued the ritual by splashing some water on our heads.

We stayed at a hostel in the center of the island, near Playa Cha'lla, a sandy beach.  The Aymara village here is very small and traditional.  Pigs, donkeys, and sheep wander along the shoreline.  The only sounds are children laughing, donkeys braying, and the distant music of pan pipes.  We walked along the trail to marvel the clear blue lake, surrounded by the snowy Cordillera Real mountains.  Despite the cool air, the sun is incredibly intense.  This is the birth place of the Sun God after all. 

Our Bus is on a Boat

After a full day of travel, Beverly and I arrived in the South American country of Bolivia.  It was not surprising that the customs official did not ask for our visa application, yellow fever vaccination, photo, or hotel reservation.  He wanted cash.  He was particular about it too.  I handed over a wad of wrinkled bills with miniscule rips.  This was unacceptable.  He wanted crisp, new bills, still warm from printing.

We hopped on a bus bound for Copacabana, a four hour drive from La Paz.  The drive took us down a winding road through rugged mountains surrounding Lake Titicaca.  Small fields built on meandering terraces dotted the steep hills.  Here, farmers grow potatoes, quinoa, and corn.   

We stopped in a small town near the lake for a bathroom break.  When Bev and I returned, we saw our bus floating across the lake on a large pontoon boat.  We were only a little concerned because this is, after all, Bolivia.  When travelling in other countries, there are going to be times when things are confusing.  We decided to ask someone about this.
"Our bus is on a boat.  What should we do?" asked Bev.
I stood beside her, laughing at the absurdity of the question.  The lady sold us boat tickets which take people across to meet the bus on the other side. 
Of course.

Copacabana is a quiet, peaceful town where tradition rules.  The women wear bowler hats, layers of sweaters, a shawl, long pleated skirts with multiple petticoats, and tiny black slippers.  Slung over their backs, is a large colorful blanket with which they carry heavy items or children.  Their long, black hair is parted down the middle with two braids, tied together in the back with a piece of dark, fluffy string. 

The town caters to the tourists which flock there, and they sell everything one needs, particularly warm clothes.  The elevation is 3,800 meters, and while the winter days are warm, the nights are chilly. 

Dogs are everywhere in Bolivia.  They hang out on door steps, roam around in packs, and are truly loved by the people.  Although they are considered outdoor pets, they often wear sweaters and have beds made of cardboard or blankets. 

In the center of town, the white cathedral shines brilliantly against the blue sky.  On Sunday, we witnessed the Benedicion de Movilidades (vehicle blessings).  People lined their cars and trucks in front the church, adorned them with garland and flowers, and awaited the ritual blessing.  For a donation, the priest will bless the vehicle for its upcoming journey. 

Puerto Morales

We chose to end the trip at a smaller and less touristy fishing village in the attempt to find more authenticity and cheaper prices.  Unfortunately, the prices were the same as in Playa del Carmen.  The world is getting smaller, and the locals know what Americans will pay.  When the entire village conspires together, we had no choice but to pay up. 

We stayed at Posada Amor, the cheapest hotel in town.  Radek informed me that "There are ants everywhere."
"Where?" I asked.
"There are two.  One in the sink, and one on the wall."
I looked around for the ant infestation, but didn't see any.
"They must have left."

We did find some free activities such as strolling the beach and enjoying the sand art. 

We spent several lazy days stretched out on the sand underneath this palm tree, watching the birds hover over the Mexican families who were laughing, playing, and eating.  Constantly eating.  We bought a deep-fried soy football shaped concoction topped with onions and hot sauce from a passing vendor, and we both found them really tasty.  Our stomachs; however, did not like them. 

Chichén Itzá

Radek has been complaining that I haven't updated my blog in what I agree is an unacceptably long time.  I'm sure I would work more quickly if he paid me to write like everyone else.  Just throwing that out there.  ;)

Chichén Itzá was the cultural and historical high point of our Eastern Yucatan adventure.  It is, by far, the most iconic and best preserved Mayan site, and after seeing the image of El Castillo's staircase on so many postcards, t-shirts, and coffee mugs, we were finally standing before it.  It was an amazing sight and lived up to it's fame.  The temple, like most other Mayan structures, is aligned with the summer and winter equinoxes.   On these days, a the sun will create a shadow image of a snake which appears on the staircase. 

Proud of their numerous defeats over the enemy, the Mayans carved skulls into a rather long wall.  I'm thinking about making a similar wall for myself, only this one will include all the insects I've murdered.

Although there are several cenotes in the area.  The largest,Cenote Sagrado, was the people's main well. 

The Mayans may have disappeared, but the iguanas are thriving!

The observatory is called El Caracol.  You can really picture all the ancient nerds determining which day to hold the corn planting ritual.