Advertisement
Published: February 23rd 2006
Edit Blog Post
After I left La Paz on Sunday, I headed for Oruro where I expected to catch a train the next day. But misinformation propagated by the so-called traveller´s bible, Lonely Planet, got me there... right on time incidentally. So I caught a train down the silver line for Uyuni. They played Shawshank Redemption in Spanish... (the train was actually run by TNT.)
We got into the itty bitty town at 3am. I didn´t want to pay the twenty bolivianos for five hours in a hostal, so I decided to take up digs at the train station... I saved 2 dollars.
The next day I found a more noble hostal... I slept for a while, then went to look for the Chilean and Alaskan. I told them I would be in later that night, but I was twelve hours early. In less than fifteen minutes of looking I found them. We ate lunch, booked a tour, and watched a movie.
The reason that people visit Uyuni is to visit the vast salt lakes that are nearby. On Tuesday morning we set out on our expedition. I suffered from a malaise I hadn´t ever felt without the introduction of other
substances. Maybe it was Malaria, maybe it was Altitude Sickness, maybe it was the Plague. (You can actually get that here.)
We visited the Salar de Uyuni, about 25 km from the town. This time of year it is wet. There is about a foot of water. The water acts as a mirror, reflecting the sky, and the mountains, and people... IT REFLECTS EVERYTHING!, except vampires. (FUCK THE UNDEAD)
We visited a salt making factory. SALT not the best business... 2 tons for eight bucks. We hit up a hotel made entirely out of salt... AKA Salt Hotel. You can imagine how it tasted.
We went to a train graveyard. It was haunted, I kept hearing toots from trains that were distinctly 150 years old.
I remember bits and parts of the day, because of the illness.
We got to a hostal in a small town called, Quinua, on the Bolivian Altiplano. That´s also the name of a grain. That´s like naming a town Bulgur.
I passed out the earliest I have in recent memories... woke up the next morning, and felt ALL BETTER.
We left Quinua around eight, stopping 2km outside of Quinua, 8km outside of Quinua, 22 km outside of Quinua, 30 km outside of Quinua, and 65 km outside of Quinua.
At Km 2, Obidio, our driver, repaired a carburetor.
At Km 8, Obidio actually repaired the carburetor.
At Km 22, Obidio repaired a flat.
At Km 30, we saw these great volcanic rock structures that were shaped by the wind. I really enjoyed climbing up them... it reminded me of the American southwest.
At Km 65, Obidio repaired another flat.
We took a Land Cruiser out to these places, but these places looked only accessible by Spaceship.
The places we visited were amazing. The scenery kept reminding us of mars. And it kept changing... from salt flats, to red rocks, to deserts, to snow capped peaks, to thermal hot springs... craziness. I´d really reccommend it.
Around lunch time we came to a salt lake inhabited by flamingos. These guys were pink, but don´t let those motherfucking bullshit zoologists at the Los Angeles County Zoo stain your mind with the belief that all flamingos are pink because they eat shrimp. NOT THE ANDEAN VARIETY, BITCH. They are pink because they eat microorganisms.
I tried to get some excellent pictures of these flamingos... so I headed for an island of dried salt, just a jump away. I didn´t, however, take into account the solidity of the ground between me and the island.
Have you ever been afflicted by the ills of QUICKSAND?
I have, and let me tell you, it´s terrifying. If I had been four feet shorter, I surely would have drowned. I just kept slipping beneath the surface... but luckily there was a team of experts surrounding me, who took my camera from my hands, and photographed my misadventure.
I came out of the water with a black sulfuric substance up to my knees... it was... hilarious. I was able to change my clothes and everything worked out just fine.
We checked out some more Martian plains, then a lagoon that was red (because of microorganisms, duh.)
You have to buy tickets to enter the national park. At the office I saw a sign that celebrated Bolivian National Day for Protected Lands, it´s on September fourth. This year in addition to the birthday gift you were going to give me on September 4th, I´d also like a gift for Bolivian National Day for Protected Lands. My half-birthday/half-Bolivian National Day for Protected Lands is coming up on March 4th.
I´d like you to send me some money, a burrito, a root beer, or at very least an e-card. (Only feel obligated to send one gift.)
We got to our lodgings, ate some food, and went to bed early because we had to be up at 4:30. These Belgian guys taught me how to play Backgammon, and I beat their asses three times in a row. BOO YAH.
We got up early this morning without the convenience of LIGHT. Electricity is only provided from eight thirty til ten pm. We made it out to the Land Cruiser, only to have its battery not work. I wasn´t paying attention but eventually we made it to these geysers at sunrise.
I hadn´t every seen anything like it. They are steaming, bubbling, sulfuric ponds that are like 600º (f) It was really awesome...
We got back in the Land Cruiser heading towards the lake.
We listened to ¨Still DRE¨while passing through the Bolivian WESTSIIDE... which I thought was perfect, but then Kraftwerk´s ¨Trans-Europe Express¨came on, which was even better. You haven´t lived until you listen to songs about German engineered highways, while driving down shitty dirt roads in western Bolivia.
We got to the lake, and went into little pools where we lounged while breakfast was being cooked. Now I know I´m a pretty big bad-ass, that could stand 600º temperatures, but alas these ponds were only 559º. WHATEV.
After breakfast we hit up the green lagoon (because of minerals, duh.) Then headed for the Chilean border. You can totally sneak into that country, no problems, but I was like: ¨fine I´ll do it legitely.¨ (Legitely is different than legitimately, look it up!)
We descended 1500 meters, to San Pedro De Atacama. We got to the immigration office at around 1pm (an hour ahead of Bolivia, five hours ahead of California, 300 km from the Pacific coast, weird.)
There were signs saying you couldn´t enter the country with plants, animals, or large containers of Semen... FOR REALZ.
I got searched, luckily no semen, and was given entrance to the great land of Chile. ( I thought I was supposed to pay 100 bucks or something, but I didn´t, cool.)
San Pedro de Atacama is the hip cousin of Uyuni. It has 3,000 inhabitants, but there are hundreds of tourists, and way better food.
It´s expensive here, 10 dollars for a hostal, 10 dollars for a gourmet meal, whoa... I´ve got to go somewhere just as developed, but a third of the cost... got any ideas?
Argentina.
Good one... but there aren´t any buses til Sunday morning (for a whopping fifty bucks.) What should I do?
Hitch a ride with an Argentinian trucker headed east from the Chilean coast.
Yeah, but what if he tries to hurt me.
You´re carrying a three ton nuclear weapon with you, aren´t you?
Yeah, so.... Oh, I could trade it for safe passage.
EXACTLY!
GOOD IDEA.
(I think I´m going to try my hand at Sand Surfing with Icelandic chicks tommrow, then figure out some way to cross into the Argentinian heartland sometime this weekend, so I can make it to the Uruguayan frontier by March 4th for Carnaval in Entre Rios, Argentina... peace)
Advertisement
Tot: 0.106s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 10; qc: 46; dbt: 0.0578s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb