Bolivia's Salt Flats

Bolivia is known for a few things, and the 3 day salt flat tour out of Uyuni is one of them. Keeping with the fascination of all things dead, the tour begins with a stop at a Train Cemetary.

There are a couple of salt museums along the way.

And, of course, there are some markets. On nearly every stop in Bolivia, one can find alpaca scarves, hats, mittens, leg warmers, and socks. There are also a variety of purses and handbags, and various llama trinkets and sovineeers.

At each stop, we were surrounded by no less than 20 other Land Rovers filled with other tourists doing exactly the same tour.

Behind the market, near the banos, we found a salt brick assembly area.

After that, we entered the actual salt flats. The salt flat is a 10,500 km salt lake that is covered by a thick layer of salt, like frozen ice, that allows driving across. Near the entrance, we could see that salt was being mined off of the lake.

From there, we drove to a salt hotel for lunch (who's up for llama with a side of quinoa?). We liked the flags, but weren't a big fan of the hotel itself. The hotel was built illegally on the lake, so there's no proper sanitation. They pump their refuse under the salt, into the lake water. Yuck. We skipped the bano on this stop.

Later, we found a nice, open space to take photos. Because of the sprawling white salt, depth perception and proportion gets distorted. This made for some fun pictures. Our driver, France, was full of great ideas and props, and didn't mind taking what felt like hundreds of photos. We made sure to tip him well.

Our next stop was pescado island. It's a national park, so it cost an extra 30 Bolivianos ($4.50 per person). The place was covered in cacti and caves. When we got tired of hiking with the tourists, we blazed our own trail along the backside of the island. It was super tranquil.

Then we made some more pictures to document our super-hero awesomeness on the salt flats.

That night, we drove off the salt flat to stay at a salt hotel. The walls, chairs, floors, tables, beds, everything was made of salt.

And the fun was just ramping up. That was day 1 of the tour. We had 2 more to go.

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Altitude Sickness at the Salt Flats

I had heard of people getting altitude sickness while climbing Mt. Everest and Mt. Kilimanjaro, you know, really high elevations. I never imagined I'd get it near the Salt Flats in Bolivia. Sure, I can see getting it in La Paz at 10,000-14,000 feet, but I wasn't worried about the Salt Flats. Salt Flats... even their name implies something, well, flat... However, on the way to the Salt Flats (through the Andes mountains from Tupiza to Uyuni, 9,000 feet), I started to experience headaches and motion sickness. I drank more water. Mark and I were both having strange dreams, but I reasoned that this was normal at this elevation, after all, when we lived at 10,000 feet we had hardly slept, and when we did, our dreams were strange. Back in those days, we were thin because we had no appetite, a side effect I was perfectly fine with. Things have changed since we moved to sea level and enrolled in grad school...but I digress.

We signed up for a 3 day tour of the Salt Flats, and took off into the mountains. Day 1 and 2 were pretty good. We cruised the mountains checking out lagoons (complete with flamingos who hung out on the icy lakes- crazy, right?!).

We stayed at Salt Hotels- not the real "Salt Hotel" on the lake, because they were built illegally and dump sewage into the lake, but another hotel made of salt, just off the lake. Everything was made out of salt: the chairs, the tables, the beds, the walls, the floor, everything.

On Day 2, we climbed in elevation to 14,700 feet. Our driver gave us coca leaves to chew on to help with the altitude. I still felt fine as we went back down to 13,200 feet for the night. Sure, people told us it would be cold, but I wasn't too worried because our driver, France, said he'd see about getting us some extra blankets. Also, we had all agreed to spoon for the night. Mark and I cuddled up into a twin sized bed.

At about midnight, I woke up in a hot sweat. I was having horrible dreams about a hospital in Grand Junction, Colorado catching on fire and falling over like the twin towers. I have family that works there so it was especially distressing. The blankets were suffocating me. I had to get free of them, but I was so winded, I could barely climb out of my sleeping bag. I told myself to stay calm. After I caught my breath, I abandoned the layers of blankets and tore off my hat, scarf, mittens, fleece jacket, and two sweaters so that I was down to my cuddle duds (thermals). I had to do it in stages because I couldn't catch my breath. My stomach ached from the pressure. I felt like a cartoon image of a character that had been inflated with air and was about to explode. I wondered if anyone would hear me if I belched, but reasoned that with 3 people snoring, no one would notice. It was so cold out that we could see our breath, but I couldn't get cooled down. I was wide awake and laid there exposed to the cold for the next three hours. When the group woke up at 5:30am, we looked outside and saw everything covered in snow.

I felt a little nauseas and achy at breakfast, but chalked it up to a bad night's rest. Today would be better. We hopped into the Land Rover and the motion sickness set back in. Mark realized that I was experiencing altitude sickness, so he gave me a 1/2 tablet of some pills (Delta?) we had picked up the day earlier at a small market (it's so easy to get pills here). By the time we reached the lagoons, I could barely walk. I dreamed of kicking everyone out of the Land Rover, wrapping up in a warm blanket, and sleeping for a few days. The lagoon was beautiful (complete with llamas and bells around their necks and red ribbons on their ears), but I just wanted to sleep and feel better. Mark and I explored to find a "bano natural" (frequent urination is a side effect of the pills), and then we camped out on a rock and waited for the group to return for lunch.

It was a peaceful spot to rest, but I still felt horrible. When the group returned, I wasn't interested in lunch, but forced myself to have a small plate of tuna, tomatoes and cucumbers and rice. Owen, one of the Australians in our group suggested some Sorojchi pills he took in Peru. I took one and about 30 minutes later, was feeling a lot better. By the time we arrived in the next pueblo, I felt like I was starving. While the rest of the group drank hot chocolate, I put down two egg sandwiches. This, too, was a side effect of the medication, increased appetite. I hated being manipulated by pills, but I felt so achy and nauseas that I was willing to do about anything to feel better. The Sorojchi pills were supposed to last 24 hours, but 5 hours later, I felt like crap again, to the point that I couldn't fathom doing anything except crawling into bed to rest... and maybe crying a little about missing our 1:00 am train to Ururu. It was only a $14 loss, but the next one wasn't coming for another three days, and when you're sick, everything seems like "the worst." Mark tried to peddle some tablets 4 young English doctors had given us (Acetazolamida), but I didn't want to overdose on anything, so I walked (slowly) to the internet cafe and researched the pills I'd been taking and the pill I was considering. It turns out the 24 hour one from Peru was little more than aspirin and caffeine, so it didn't look like a problem. I swallowed the new 250mg tablet and slept for the next 15 hours. By noon the next day, I still felt somewhat repulsed by food, and achy, but I felt well enough to get up, brush my teeth, put on my face (not wash it... c'mon, that's still asking a lot), and walk to an Internet cafe (you know, since it was only a block away). So, yeah, I didn't expect it, but it turns out I'm susceptible to altitude sickness. I just hope it doesn't follow me to La Paz and Macchu Piccu, because there aren't a lot of places along the way to go down in elevation, which means I'll be resigned to resting in a chilly cold bedroom until the altitude sickness goes away.

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Welcome to Bolivia

Leaving at 7am seemed like a good idea at the time. We set our alarm for 5:45am and departed Andaluz Hostel by 6:30am. We hoofed it, in the dark, to the Salta bus terminal and felt quite proud of ourselves for getting up so early. After all, we could sleep later on the 7 hour ride to Bolivia.

The ride to Bolivia was filled with orangey green Andean landscapes that stretched out past the horizon. There would be no sleeping on this bus... okay, it wasn't just the scenery that kept me awake. My legs were straddling my backpack in a cramped window seat. I snuggled up in my sleeping bag and enjoyed the piping hot, sweetened latte that Mark ordered from a lady near the door of the bus (I love majority world vending. Such service!). Then I noticed a sign on the bus wall: wifi. On a bus in the Andes? Fletcha bus! That $60 was money well spent.  The internet worked, off and on, for about an hour or two, then quit, mid-way through a Kindle update... which meant that I lost my Lonely Planet guidebook- which I needed to prepare for Bolivia. Seriously, ipad.  Seriously.

By 2:30pm, we reached Quiaca, the border town, la fronterra, for Bolivia. We picked up our packs and walked through the dry dust and wind, about 3/4 of a mile to the border crossing. I was ecstatic to see the women's wide-brimmed hats and knee-high rainbow striped skirts that people had told us about. What they hadn't mentioned was the flesh-toned old-lady stalkings and alpaca knit leg-warmers. I wish I had a picture of those- and the kids. I don't care what anyone says, Bolivian kids are some of the cutest in the world. Their cheeks are pink and round, and they're happy little things, bouncing on their mother's backs, or attempting to keep pace like little eskimos all bundled up in their knit sweaters. It's all too cute!
It took about an hour to cross the border because the guards wouldn't accept our American dollars with any blemishes, even slight tears. Mark had to run all over town to get a copy of our passports and Boliviano currency while I sat on our stack of bags, in the dust and sun. There were plenty of people around, so I felt completely safe, though the dust did a number on my sweater, jeans, and hair. I had heard that there were no hot showers in Bolivia, so I was a little worried about all of the dirt I was accumulating, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I resolved to give myself permission to be covered in dirt for the next two weeks.

Once in Bolivia, we hopped a taxi to the bustling bus station, made our way around the stacks of parcels, and bought our bus tickets north to Uyuni. We couldn't believe how cheap it was for the next 7 hour ride (50 Bolivianos, less than $10 USD). Good thing, too, because we only used a portion of it.  We got off early in Tupiza based on a recommendation of some fellow travelers.

During the bus ride, I noticed a gentleman nursing a bottle that he kept "hidden" in his jacket. I also noticed he was chewing leaves from a bag. I pointed it out to Mark who immediately got excited, reached for change in his pocket and tapped the guy on the shoulder. The guy shared a handful of leaves and a piece of alkaline chalk looking substance.  He refused to accept payment. Instead, I fished around in our bags for an orange to give him in return.  Then, we tried chewing on some coca leaves to pass the time. It numbed our tongues and didn't seem to be as much of an appetite suppressant as I expected, but it was fun to have a local experience none-the-less.  By the way, coca leaves are totally legal in Bolivia.  Everyone chews them as a general cure-all.  They're non-habit forming.

In Tupiza, we found a little hostel with private rooms for 60 bolivianos per night. They claimed to have wifi, but it was "out of service" the first day and slower than dial up the second. As I unpacked for bed, I realized I was missing my Tempurpedic pillow. I realized I must have left it on the bed in Argentina. It was dark, and I didn't see it. I'm grieved. To know Mark and I is to know that we take our pillows everywhere (camping, India, Africa, home visits), and now it's gone. I'm sad, but hey, at least I still have my sleeping bag, and this morning I got a hot shower and banana pancakes. So, welcome to Bolivia.

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Besos, Argentina

When ladies get together or say farewell in Argentina, they give besos (kisses on the cheeks). Despite germ phobic tendencies, I think it's a very sweet greeting. Thus, my farewell to Argentina, is besos, because we're friends now, and I hope to visit again someday.
Our final day in Argentina typified our experience in the country. In the Northwest city of Salta, we slept in and blogged in bed, bunk beds, in a room with two other travelers. When we finally got up, we searched for almuerzo (lunch) and found a cute pizza shop with gifts and knick knacks. The woman running the cafe conversed with us in Spanglish- it turns out she was taking an English literature course and had a Beowulf exam later that day. I think she liked talking with us because she kept coming by with dulces libres (free sweets) and making conversation, things like "I love American breakfast. Eggs are so much better than Argentinian bread and coffee." Sweet gal. When she wasn't at our table, Mark and I continued to quarrel about our hypothetical future and whether or not we would stay in South America, trek back to Hawaii on schedule, or come up with some other wild plan. I can hang with a little uncertainty, but the lack of a solidified plan for our next few years has been wearing on me. There's just no way around it; I crave stability and am looking to settle down somewhere, let go of my nomadic lifestyle.
The afternoon was spent chasing down postage for postcards to our folks and grandparents. Each of those little puppies cost $4... in their defense, they were beautiful pictures. We also walked down Avenida San Martin to the bus station, to pick up our bus tickets for the following day. It was the usual, "Go to this counter, no that counter... this bus only runs two days a week... that bus leaves at midnight," kind of deal, but we secured our seats to Bolivia for first thing in the morning.
By 5pm, we needed to charge our ipads, so we plopped down at a beautiful glass- windowed cafe overlooking a corner of the plaza. The plaza is my favorite part of town. The surrounding historical buildings are charming, the women are dressed up in red boots and skinny black pants, and it feels like a modern European or Spanish city. While we charged our computers, I finally got my chocolate fix via a chocolate carmel mousse cake that, while taut around the edges from too much refrigeration, it sent my endorphins soaring (and my blood sugar too, no doubt). In Argentina, cafe con leche (coffee with milk) is served with a chaser of sparkling water. It's a great way to throw down an additional $3 per meal.
Two and a half hours later (we got our money's worth out of that free wifi), we emerged from the cafe to take in the plaza's warm night lights. We searched for supper and wound up at a very nice parradilla (grilled steakhouse) on another corner of the plaza. In the States, it would be a "Get dressed up; we're going out" kind of place, but here we were, with our backpacks, in our travel attire, ready for a final night of steak. Usually, the night before we leave a nice place, we get the insecurity about what food we'll find during the bus ride or in the next country. Bolivia is known for its soup, so I wanted one last steak a proper salad while I could still get ahold of the good stuff (sometimes it's not okay to eat fresh veggies in other places due to bacteria from the water or lack of hand-washing). I throughly enjoyed my farewell salad (fresh chunks of avocado, squash, edamame, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese), and we blew through our final $40 in pesos, while still managing to take home a giant hunk of steak for the next day's bus ride.
We packed up our gear for the next day's bus ride, set a 5:45am alarm, and gave our goodnight besos in Argentina. Tomorrow, we'd be in Bolivia.

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Road Trip Through the Andes

Growing up, my family took a week long road trip/ family vacation every summer. We went to California, Georgia, Arizona, Vegas, New York... all over the U.S. I loved seeing the sites, but I hated sitting still, in a van, for so long. For me to experience a place, I have to get out and touch it, hike it, interact with it. Mark didn't really know this about me (I didn't even know this about me) until we went on our honeymoon, a road trip to several national parks. Now we both know. :-)

We wanted to see the Andes, but not from a bus window, so for three fantastic days, we splurged and rented a car. Although the days were long (read: too much sitting around and entirely not enough hiking), driving through the Andes was an incredible experience. The pictures don't do it justice. The 360 degree views were truly spectacular.

We had to dodge around the occasional rockslide.

Solar power!

Fancy horse accessories. If anyone knows what these are used for (besides decor), I'm curious to find out.

Taken from a self timer on the car. Got it on the second try.

We discovered the occasional town, where I got to walk around- yippie!

Mark was in photographer's heaven.

My favorite stop was the ampitheater. A gentleman was playing instruments that added to the existing ambiance of the place.

Plus, there were alpacas... and I do LOVE alpacas. If we had a bumper sticker on our vehicle, it would say, "This vehicle stops for alpacas."

I felt bad about accidentally eating their pal at this restaurant. FYI, lama meat isn't very tastey.

Every opportunity, I got out to do a happy dance, complete with skipping and jumping. Occasionally, I jumped too far, like the time I raced down the hill too fast and got stuck in the prickly bushes, but I didn't mind because I was experiencing nature.

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