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Published: January 24th 2006
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Boy meets snake
Sebastian, the youngest member of our party, encounters one of the Manu locals We´re now in southern Bolivia, not far from the Argentine border, which we plan to cross in a day or two. The main idea is to avoid spending too long in Chile, which is expensive. Mind you, anywhere is expensive compared with Bolivia.
Our nicest trip in Peru was in the company of the splendid Revels family from San Diego. We travelled to the Manu rainforest, reached after a day jolting along potholed roads and another day puttering upriver in a small boat. It was expensive and uncomfortable, but our powers of endurance were rewarded by the wildlife we saw - red howler monkeys grooming themselves in the trees, black spider monkeys crashing through the branches overhead, and most memorably a family of giant river otters. We got close enough to hear the fish bones crunching as they ate. (In the water they make spluttering, horse-like noises.)
Our guide Willie, a herpetologist, gained everyone´s instant respect by relating the story of how he once wrestled an anaconda he was trying to catch. It wrapped itself round his leg and he was forced to grapple with it for half an hour until it got tired and let go.
La
Willie
He wrestled an anaconda - and lived! Paz was as wet and dreary as 1950s Manchester, without the heavy industry. Before that, a few days at Lake Titicaca. We spent one night on the Isla del Sol in the lake, which is as different from the Costa del Sol as chalk from cheddar, viz: no roads or vehicles, no phones, no mains water or gas, and just a faint trickle of electricity from the mainland. ´Del Sol´ proved something of a misnomer, as it pissed down with rain for most of our four hour hike from the north to the south of the island. For the last hour we were hopelessly lost, squidging through crop terraces and scrambling in an undignified manner over walls, desperately hoping not to meet a dog.
That evening we were rather limited in our choice of restaurants. We decided on a cosy looking cowshed (or perhaps stable) lit by two 25W bulbs, plus a candle for the table. The safest option on the menu was spaghetti with tomato sauce, which was prepared in a back room in well under two hours by a couple of bowler-hatted Dorises. The place was busy with young Argentinians who didn´t actually order anything but played
An undiscovered Vermeer?
No, actually, it´s the stunning Santa Catalina convent in Arequipa, Peru games and wandered in and out for several hours, smoking furiously. Eventually the ubiquitous pan pipe music was replaced by something funkier. I asked the owner what it was. He smiled delightedly, revealing an impressive set of metal teeth. "Eez acid jazz!"
Andeans are fond of their own music, and you almost never hear any western pop or (god forbid) jazz: nothing but pan pipes and zithers wherever you go. It´s absolutely horrible and drives you mental. (Out of sheer desperation I have grown a jazz beard.) So it was with great pleasure that we spotted the Thelonius Jazz Bar in the south of La Paz and saw a pretty decent quintet fronted by tenor sax and trombone. Bliss...
In southern Bolivia we spent four days with our friends Ray, Leoniek, Marjolein and Edward in a 4x4 touring the most bizarre landscapes on Earth. Folks, there is no need to book that space flight: planet Mars is right here. Of course, it was not without its complications. On Day Three we rose at 4.00am to watch the sunrise on a high (5,000 metres) plateau of hissing fumeroles and bubbling volcanic mud. A short while later our Toyota Landcruiser
Lake Titicaca
Quite nice, innit? broke down next to a very lovely volcanic lake, where we were able to bathe in the hot springs as our driver Santos tried to fix the engine. We ate breakfast. More time passed. It was decided that we would miss out the last part of our trip and just try to hitch a ride with some other tour party returning from the Chilean border. Several appeared in quick succession, one of which had on board the very spare part Santos needed. We ate lunch while the drivers gathered round offering advice. Soon afterwards the part was fitted, and off we went.
The Landcruiser broke down again as we were passing a bleak borax mining camp in the gravel desert. A while later a couple more tour parties came by, one of which contained four British tourists. Our friends insisted we cadge a ride with them, since they had two spare seats and we needed to catch the train from Uyuni that evening. However, rather than open the door with a cheery ´Hop in!´, the Brits engaged in a long debate amongst themselves about whether they really wanted to give us a lift. Eventually, the decision was negative. Their
Salar de Uyuni
We´re walking in the air ... crikey, and no wonder at 12,000 feet driver was baffled, and so were we. Off they sped, with Bridget´s colourful epithets ringing in their ears.
So we sat in the miners´canteen and waited for a replacement vehicle to arive from Uyuni, some six hours distant. We passed the time playing pool, learning the excellent card game Shithead, and watching Jackass on TV (Steve-O diving into a paddling pool full of elephant dung). Meanwhile the miners drifted in from work in ones and twos, greeting their strange gringo visitors with smiles and ´buenas tardes´.
The hours crawled past. By 9.00pm it was obvious that no rescue vehicle was coming after all, and prepared to spend the night in grim concrete cells which were the nearest thing the camp could offer in the way of accommodation. We were very cold, despite all the layers of clothing and thermal underwear, and our drinking water had run out. We bedded down fully dressed and shivered on the saggy unclean mattresses provided, quite generously in the circumstances.
Some time after midnight we were awakened by banging on the metal doors. Yes, the new Landcruiser was here at last. The next morning, in thickly falling snow, we headed back to
Alien brain
Don´t touch it! Haven´t you seen the film? Uyuni, mightily relieved.
(The mining camp and processing plant are owned by a Belgian who was recently released from jail after eight months on suspicion of processing cocaine rather than borax. This ´misunderstanding´was due to the fact that both industries use large quantities of sulphuric acid. Despite the government confiscating nine of the company´s ten trucks, and 40 miners losing their jobs, somehow the business has kept going.)
On our way back we stopped for lunch in the village of San Cristobal and found the locals watching the inauguration of their new President, Evo Morales, live on TV. It looked more like a coronation, taking place as it did at the ancient site of Tiwanaku. (Curiously, Evo´s simple election slogan ´Mas´- More - is also a popular brand of toilet paper. Then again, there´s a lot of shit to clear up here in Bolivia.)
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karen
non-member comment
wonderful stuff
dearest bridge and peter i'm so glad its not all beauty and wonder - i would be even more jealous.