The land of extremes

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I left Bolivia over a week ago but since then have been wracking my brains over what to write about the experience. I finally decided that the difficulty was caused by this being the land of extremes. That to write about its incredibly rich beauty doesn't properly acknowledge its poverty. That to write about sport and adventure doesn't quite reach out to culture. That if I write about the development and modernity then I am somehow blind to some of the worst working conditions ever. So, with this in mind, I find myself now trying to write a blog, if nothing else but to not leave a hole in the journey!

The bus journey from Puno followed the outskirts of Lake Titicaca, the reported but sometimes disputed, highest navigable lake in the world. Its sapphire waters reached out as far as the eye could see, until the moment we reached its most narrow point. We all had to disembark for both the bus and us to get on a little boat across the water! From there it was a short journey to the border and a short journey beyond that to Copacabana - my first stop in Bolivia.

I met some new people and toasted a new country watching the sun set over the boats in the harbour - splendid and serene. Legend states that the nearby Isla del Sol, is, as the name would suggest where the sun originated, or took refuge, and also where the first Inca are from. The following day was to be a trip to the island and also to taste some of its local cultures. The people there have their own distinct cultures, many involving the wearing of hats for men to show their availability in relationships. Basically, if a man wiggles his pompom at a girl and she waggles hers back that's it! They're both interested! Now if only pubs and clubs back home adopted such a simple method things would be a lot easier!

The next stop was the chaos that is La Paz. La Paz is the worlds highest capital city with some parts of it reaching as high as 4100m. It is also a dirty, crazy, congested whirlwind that straight away reminded me of Katmandu. Looming over this chaos is majesty. The spectacular mountain Illumani rises a further 3000m above the city providing a real wonder to the scene as the bus turns the corner that finally reveals the city to you. I used the city as a base to do a host of other things. Firstly to climb Huayna Potosi - which I've already written a blog about and, whilst recovering from that I explored the second of the peculiar attractions of La Paz - its prison.

San Pedro jail is situated right in the middle of town and takes up a city block right next to the beautiful San Pedro plaza. It is completely unremarkable from the outside and even difficult to photograph as there isn't even a sign to suggest its identity. It is the incredible way that this jail operates that creates the attraction. Having read a book describing a British prisoners experience in there I'll sum it up as follows - money talks! Prisoners have to fund absolutely everything in the prison themselves - from buying their cells to every other type of work that is performed in there - from creating art to sell to tourists, to running restaurants, shops and of course - dealing cocaine. The corruption, as everywhere in Bolivia is legendary - with the book even reporting that as working there can be so lucrative officers pay quite a lot to even get posted there! So, even though the book read as a fairly good inning for having to be incarcerated it still didn't make me want to sell out on my liberty. I heard that the prison 'tours' were still running but opted still for sitting in the sunshine of the plaza reading the book!

My final trip from La Paz was out to cycle the worlds most dangerous road. It is officially called the North Yungas Road but usually its referred to as El Camino de la Muerte - Death Road. This is 64km of downhill insanity! The road most the way is not paved and is single track width. The drop offs are generally at least 600m and, tragically, but inkeeping with its reputation, it really does claim the lives of thrill seeking tourists. I'm a fairly confident cyclist - well I say that in a 'getting to work, occasionally riding no handed, maybe managed a wheelie' kinda way. This was insane! Leaning over the front handlebars to go faster and trying always to remember that, as if you needed a further challenge, that the brakes are wired the opposite way round to home! Fortunately ours was to be a good day. No one was injured or worse and we celebrated in the finishing town of Coroico with a very well deserved beer.

Despite how much I had enjoyed the insanity of La Paz I'm always grateful to leave cities and was interested to turn away from the thrills of Bolivia and instead to its history. Potosi is one of the highest cities in the world, and also the scene of terrible exploitation of the country by its conquistadors from Europe. The mine itself was an incredibly rich source of silver for the Spanish Empire - but to access it they worked approximately 8 million, both locals and those brought from Africa, to their deaths there. Our guide reported that the Spanish took so much silver from that mine that it would stretch all the way back to Spain. I'm glad I hadn't read too much about what the tour actually involved and just knew that I wanted to see it - because if I had I'm not sure I would have done it.

Firstly this isn't Disneyland. There is nothing polished about this experience. This is a real working mine where men slave and shorten their life expectancies to only 45 years of so for a few hundred dollars a month. Where dust, heat and sweat combine and ingrain the skin. A shout is heard and 4 men run past pushing a cart with a few tons of ore in it - if it needs to move to another track they have to lift it. We have, before arriving at the mine, bought the miners 'gifts' of alcohol, juice, dynamite, coca leaves and the like - suddenly the gifts seem woefully inadequate and you ask 'what's being done?' The answer is of course nothing, and really, if the mine was closed, better mechanised, or even made safer would it sustain as many families? Would Potosi just become a relic of the past without the mine? A ghost town for tourists?

My initial levity about buying dynamite, 96% drinkable alcohol and coca leaves all in the same spot evaporated when we spoke to miners who were the same age as me but looked parental to my eyes. Of course, it's hard for a bit of excitement not to return as I held a 'bomb' of two sticks of dynamite and the propelling agents - lit! And it was with that deafening ring of that explosion that we left the mine for our guides and some of the other miners to get to football - which, right around the world, continues to distract and inspire generations from whatever else might be happening in the rest of their lives!

Having spent a further pleasant day enjoying the small town vibe and lovely architecture of Potosi it was time to move on again ... this time to Uyuni and from there to tour the salt flats across to Chile - the Salar de Uyuni.

Now if any of the places so far visited in Bolivia had somehow failed to impress the Salar cannot. This is the largest salt flat in the world and, in its just over 4000 km2 only varies in altitude by around 1m. It's where up to 70% of the worlds lithium reserves lie. It is a breeding ground for various flamingos and other wildlife, an area of spectacular natural beauty, one of the best places in the world to star gaze, the location of the worlds highest navigable road and is used by space programmes to calibrate satellite distances from the earth!

With sunglasses preventing a kind of snow-blindness we whizzed across the flats in our 4x4 - the drivers having to be able mechanics too - there is nothing else out there to save you. We stayed in a hotel made soley of salt blocks, with salt blocks for a bed stead, tables, bar and chairs before going outside in the now freezing desert temperatures, to see the most stary night I've ever witnessed.

The following day we moved on from the flats themselves and into the national park where there were impressed by lagoons and the breeding grounds for three different types of flamingo. We all spent ages trying to capture photos before racing off again - this time to a more basic accomodation which I'd been told would be an uncomfortable night. No fear though - we were stocked up with wine!

The night itself wasn't as bad as expected - maybe we'd pre-empted the worst by sleeping in sleeping bags, under blankets, fully dressed and half cut! All that didn't help with waking up in time to see the dawn the following morning though! It really was spectacular though and we quickly forgot the cold.

The final part of the journey across to the Chilean border took in natural hot springs and the Salvador Dali desert. This dry, bleak but beautiful land is painted with subtle hues from yellow through to red. It is untouched by even a footprint and swept into gently folding dunes. This is also the start of the Atacama desert - the worlds driest - and here even some of its 6000m peaks don't see snow for lack of moisture.

For me though it was my final view of Bolivia - as we raced across the desert a small hut came into view, and slowly we were able to see the painted words 'Migration' on the outside. There was no wall, well there wasn't even really a road - but it was certainly the most amusing border crossing I'd ever seen. We popped around the wall to have a final outdoor wee before getting the bus down into Chile, saw a bus driver hand one of the uniformed guys some money and thought - 'yeah that's Bolivia'.

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Comments

[Dad]

Perhaps your most exciting blog to date?!
Wow and mega wow! Boy would I love to have been there with you to see that starry sky!!!!

[CMQF]

thank you !
ahmmm .. for sharing this .. i really learn a lot ..