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Published: July 23rd 2008
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I suppose upon arriving in Bolivia the first thing you notice is the cold. I crossed the border with some friends, all wrapped up in our sleeping bags and ready to take on the tourist-friendly Salar de Uyuni. It´s a huge flat region which used to be a salt water lake but has since dried up and left the salt behind.
The first night in Uyuni, the village from which we would be departing on a 3 day tour of the surrounding slat flats, was a real frosty experience. I was starting to see what Boliva would be all about...
First of all, we arranged the jeep and driver and all for the tour. Unfortunately the only ATM in town was out of order. I had anticipated this so I had changed a bunch of Argentine pesos in advance. My friends however had no money so I would have to be their ATM for the next couple days. After all , we had to eat the next day. But could we? Nope. Everything was closed. It was national census day. Glad somebody warned us that we might want to buy some freakin´food. The hotel had no heat and I think
it got down to maybe -10 degrees in the nights. We all decided not to take a shower cuz the electric showerhead provided luke warm water at best. We asked if we could boil some water to make soup, but they said no because propane is too expensive.
The next morning when we got up a couple of us weren´t doing so good. Uyuni is at about 4000 metres above sea level and some people suffer from altitude sickness. Fernando, an amigo from Mexico, had to puke first thing. Jordie, a girl from Holland, had to go to the hospital she felt so rough. Usually they would give a person oxygen but they had none. We had no money to buy the medicines she needed so the doctor told her she better hope that her lungs don´t start filling with fluid or things wouldn´t be good. Myself and Jordies´ friend Esther were totally fine thank goodness.
Turns out Jordie was feeling better the next day---we had to postpone our tour, which they weren´t happy about, but instead of the original three day plan we would only have time for a quick one-day sight seeing.
The ATM worked the day after
Jordie's Parasites
Us hanging from Gigantic Jordies' hair. we returned and we were more than happy to be moving on. And just in time! The next day there were plans for protests and the roads would be blocked. So we hopped on a night bus in Potosi, the highest city in the world, at over 4100 m. The buses in Bolivia are something else. Kinda reminds me of Indonesian buses except that the roads in Bolivia are worse. I heard they only have 2 paved roads in Boliva. So, with not much time left and the potential roadblocks scaring the crap out of me, I bussed it all the way up north to the capital city, La Paz. La Paz is close enough to the border with Peru, where I would have to return for my flight, that I could feel a little more comfortable being there. It´s sad that I never got to see anything more in central Bolivia. I´m kicking myself in the ass for not saving more time to travel there.
La Paz is big and busy, but there´s always a lot to do. A bunch of friends whom I met in the hostel in Cordoba, Argentina, showed up and we had a great time.
Salty sailor
Making rockstar jumps in the salt flats. The city is surrounded by breathtaking mountains and the views from any part are intense. La Paz is also at a high altitude, and I felt it daily walking up the dreaded hill to the hostel we were staying in. It´s a funny feeling to just be completely out of breath after just a few steps. And a nice thing was that we went to a sweet park in La Paz one afternoon and it was so sunny and warm that I could hang out in my t-shirt for once.
The last stop in Boliva was a village just a few kilometers from the Peruvian border in Copacabana. It was on the shores of Lake Titticaca, the highest (of course) navigable lake in the world. It´s mostly famous for the beautiful island in the middle, the Isla del Sol (island of the sun). I didn´t have time to go, and luckily he was also in a hurry and I still had my amigo Fernando to cross into Peru with me.
The village would have nothing much to offer if it wasn´t for the delicious trout in the lake. There must be a hundred or more restaraunts cooking up trout in
Used to be an Island.....
...because there used to be a lake. every way you can imagine. For about a buck thirty!
I had to get moving. I hopped on a bus, possibly the most uncomfortale crate on wheels ever, and I was off to return to Peru.
So long Boliva, I´ll have to come back for the full experience some other time.
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