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Published: July 23rd 2011
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So, where were we…ah yes, we had just finished the tour of the salt flats and the train graveyard, and had entered the town of Uyuni, then quickly left it. It has the same atmosphere as Portsmouth on a wet Friday night – can’t say much more than that.
To escape, your correspondent took on the role of official bus booker and so, booked a bus to Sucre. Rather than having to stay overnight, I immediately booked an overnight bus and rushed to tell Wendy. Did she congratulate me on my booking skills, nay dear readers she did not. I was berarted for not checking if it was a direct bus, or if it stopped elsewhere – more on that later.
Later. No, it was not a direct bus, there was a two hour stopover in Potosi at 2 am. Not my fault of course, as am sure the ticket lady should have told me. Anyway, our bus – I say bus, but minibus would be more accurate. Still managed to squeeze 30 people on, with all luggage thrown gently (chucked) on to the top of the vehicle and then covered in tarpaulin. We left Uyuni under the cover
of darkness.
We were quite glad of that as the trip to Potosi would not have been survived if we could have seen what was happening. Crammed in to the back corner, W somehow managed to sleep as I felt the bus climb high into mountains, slipping and sliding from left to right on snow covered roads and at one point he even took the wrong riverbed !!!! The bus was stuck. Could not go forward, left or right. Only one thing to do. Throw it in to reverse and zoom back at top speed, bounce back up on to the road, and then skid straight over in to another riverbed facing the wrong way – I was inventing swear words.
The rest of trip passed without too much incident apart from the bus breaking down in the middle of nowhere – thankfully the driver said the correct prayers to the right deities and it started again. A few hours later we arrived in Potosi – the highest City in the world. On arrival an Israeli girl turned to me and asked me “what height are we at ?” – how the hell should I know. It was
2am and I was tired. I did not have an altmeter handy. All I wanted was a connecting bus to Sucre, but was told we had to sit in our minibus until the connecting bus arrived in about 2 hours.
About two hours later the connecting bus arrived. When the baggage hold was opened for our rucksack, we found a family of five sleeping there. True. The bus was full of sleeping Bolivians and I luckily found a space on the floor to sit for the few hours to Sucre.
We decided to treat ourselves to a couple of nights in a very classy hotel where presidents stay for summits in Bolivia. Very expensive for what you got – shower, bath, clean sheets every day, wifi, a sumptuous breakfast, roof terrace for sunbathing and wonderful views - £37 per night, not pp but for the room. Two nights of thoroughly deserved luxury.
Sucre is a beautiful city. Very colonial and buildings made of dazzlingly white stone. It has two wonderful markets – one indoor. Both sell anything you could imagine and probably many things that you couldn’t. We managed to get our friend Lee a plunger for
his birthday (look back at Bariloche blog for reason). As with everywhere else in Bolivia, the people are very friendly and, of course, completely mad.
Walking around the town is very relaxing. I say relaxing, when I really mean, as slow as possible. The air around here is a bit thin - 9500 ft – and you see gringoes grasping for breath all over the place. Even your correspondent was forced to take a breather while walking up a steep hill. W asked if I wanted to return home, but I pointed out that there was a bar with beer at the summit, so I bravely continued.
Have been to a mixture of bars and restaurants, only in the cause of research of course. In one of them, I ordered what was described as a traditional local dish. I sat worrying about my rash decision as had heard horror stories of intestines and other strange items being served up. When the waitress arrived it turned out the local delicacy was in fact sausage and chips – but Bolivian sausages no less !!!
For Lee’s birthday( see above for first mention in this blog) a group of us
were invited to spend it with him at a nearby Bolivian spa. To imagine a Bolivian spa, picture, if you will, a field – beautiful scenery it has to be said - with a volleyball net, two football goals, a few bbqs scattered about and a swimming pool about 1m by 3m.
We survived by eating much and drinking more. The bus driver tried to kill us on the way back by hitting a speed hump at about 300mph. Verily there was a mixture of limbs and screams as we all hit the roof. No-one was injured.
We are working at the orphanage here, but that will have a blog of it’s own. Just keep in mind that we are still enjoying the blazing sun, bright blue skies and sitting at outside bars/cafes drinking and eating and of course, thinking of you all.
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Sandra
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Frooot!
Glenn would love this photo for one of his 'spot the difference' competitions!