Days 70-71: La Paz, Bolivia

Dan and I opted to take a speedy 40 minute flight (rather than the 12 hour bus ride) from Sucrez to La Paz on Thursday evening. From the air, it looked like Bolivia's capital city sat atop a steep plateau. 

After landing in what we later learned is the highest airport in the world, we took a taxi to our hotel. 

As we drove through the city, we could see that the city had a harmonious chaos to it; the people, streets, and even telephone wires seemed to flow in every direction. 

Surprisingly, it took us longer to get from the airport to our hotel than from Sucre to La Paz. Our first night in the city, we had a quiet dinner, then took advantage of the fact that we had upgraded ourselves to a hotel by lounging in our room for the evening.

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The following day, we met back up with our Italian friend, Stefano, and our Australian friends, Shari and Andrew. Together, we walked through the streets of the city. First, we went to a "witch" market, where many unusual odds and ends could be found. One constant piece of merchandise was llama fetuses. We were told they are often used as sacrificial offerings when new buildings are constructed. Even if a contractor doesn't feel the need to do this, the people working for him often believe in this ritual, and might refuse to work if he doesn't give this sacrifice.

After our trip through that market, we went to get lunch in a "mall." In reality, it was an unusual labyrinth of walkways with dozens of mini restaurants that looked like they were situated behind garage doors. As we walked passed each entrance, the female cooks would try to lure us in to eat their food. The spaces were so tiny that it took us a while to find one that could house all five of us. Finally, we sat down to a two-course meal (soup and entree of choice) for the equivalent of two US dollars. If it wasn't already clear, Bolivia is kind of a cheap country.

Once we finished lunch, We signed up for a bike excursion for the following day. Then, we walked through more food and clothing markets, which, once again, were all run by women; we never managed to solve the mystery of what the men did all day. 

At night, our group met up for dinner at a Cuban restaurant that had live music. While there, we even managed to coax Stefano into playing a few songs for the crowd. After dinner, we retreated home to prepare for our big adventure that would begin the next morning.

Day 72: La Paz, Bolivia

At 7:30 on Saturday morning, Dan and I met up with our friends and 12 other people to go on a bike trip. This wasn't just a typical bike outing...we would be riding on what has been labeled the world's most dangerous road: Yungas Road, or more commonly, Death Road. This 64 kilometer muddy, rocky route winds through large hillsides and sits along steep cliffs. The narrowness of the road, combined with the absence of guardrails, has caused it to be the source of many accidents over the years. It has also made the road a popular tourist attraction. 

Ask me to skydive from 15,000 feet or hike 5 hours up a volcano, and I won't bat an eyelash. But bike riding under even the best conditions makes me uneasy. Needless to say, I was not overeager about the outing. Nevertheless, I found myself near the start of the path, putting on my gear and being assigned a bike along with everyone else. With dual suspension, the bikes were of great quality. But that only eased my nerves so much.      

Our group gathered with our bikes in a large circle as our guide explained numerous rules and tips for the ride: stay on the left side unless the road is narrow, pull over for passing vehicles, be sure to slow down prior to reaching sharp turns, etc. After a lengthy talk, he told us that because we would be riding on Pachamama, Mother Earth, we needed to show our appreciation. He took out a bottle with a liquid akin to rubbing alcohol, and instructed each of us to pour a little on our front wheel, a little on the ground, and then a little in our mouth. We passed the bottle from person to person, each wincing when it was our turn to take a swig of the vile liquid. Then, finally, it was time to ride.

The first leg of the ride was on a perfectly paved, wide road, and was meant to help us get comfortable on the bikes. The ride was really nice, and helped me ease my nerves a little bit. However, it wasn't long before we reached the start of the real Death Road. It was all downhill with steep cliffs and many bumps. At some points, the road was barely wider than the width of a small car. Even still, it was an incredible feeling to ride along. The landscape, when I dared to look up from the rocky ground, was beautiful. 

Small portion of Death Road

We stopped several times to look at the views. The guides captured the entire day on camera, but unfortunately only told us after the ride that we would have to wait two days before we could retrieve the CDs with pictures. We would already be out of La Paz at that point, so upsettingly, we didn't have much footage of the day.  We started the day in many layers because the weather was very cold at the high altitude. However, the climate quickly changed as we descended toward the rainforest. So it wasn't long before we had shed some clothing. Ironically, just after many of us had taken off our outer layers, it began to pour. The heavy rain made the ride scarier, but also felt surprisingly nice. 

At no point along the ride did I feel entirely confident. The roads were narrow and rocky and the drop-off was intimidating. The speed at which everyone was going only added to my uncertainty. So, it was only inevitable that at the brief moment I took my hand from the grip to adjust my sunglasses, I lost my balance and went down with my bike. I recovered quickly, but not before picking up some painful scratches and bruises.

After several hours, we made it to the end. Despite my injury, I was really happy we had done the ride. And Dan, who is a much more avid biker, loved the whole experience. We finished the day with a big lunch and a viewing of the pictures and videos the guides had taken. They also showed us some disturbing videos of past accidents along Death Road; at least they waited until the end, I guess.

It took us several hours to drive back to the center of La Paz. By that point, we were all drained, so we had a low-key dinner before calling an end to one of the more memorable days of our trip.

 

Day 66: Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

Our tour group woke up at 4:30am on the final day of our excursion in order to make it in time for sunrise over the salt flats. The electricity was not turned on yet, so we had to get ready by candlelight. By 5am, the trucks were packed and we were ready to go. It was still very dark outside, so we had an incredible view of the starlit sky.

It took a little over an hour to get to the Uyuni salt flats, a stretch of flat land that is composed of dry salt. At 10,000+ square-kilometers, it is the largest salt flat in the world. We arrived amid the white landscape just as dawn was breaking, and took in the surreal scenery that refused to be properly captured on camera.

After sunrise, we drove a little farther to "Fish Island," a beautiful, though oddly placed island of fossilized coral that was covered in 1,000-year old cacti.

After Fish Island, we continued to drive through the salt flats. We got out after another hour of driving in order to stretch out our legs and take some pictures. Because of the uniform landscape, the salt flats made for a perfect venue to create fun illusions on camera. It was often hard to get the picture just right, but Dan and I tried our best...

Once we all finished taking pictures, Juan led us in a game in the salt flats. One person would be blindfolded at a time, and would then walk about 100 meters through the salt to the parked trucks. Initially, we didn't really understand the game, but I agreed to go first. As soon as I began walking, my senses became disoriented by the total blackness and by the continual crunch of salt underfoot. I walked for what felt like awhile before the group finally yelled for me to stop. I took off my blindfold to find myself about 10 meters to the left of the trucks. Juan told me I did really well, which I only understood after watching several other people go. Our group cracked up as one person after another ended up traveling in circles or odd zig zags, far from the intended endpoint.

After everyone had a chance at reaching the trucks, we got back into the vehicles. From there, we drove into a small town where we had lunch and got to see a "train cemetery" filled with old steam locomotives.

Our tour ended shortly thereafter in the town of Uyuni. There, we said goodbye to our guide, Juan, and a few of our new friends who were traveling in different directions from us. Then, we bought bus tickets with the Australian couple, German couple, and our Italian friend. All of us had heard that there wasn't that much to do in Uyuni, so we decided to end our day in a town called Potosi instead.

We arrived in Potosi late at night, so were not able to get a sense of what the area was like. Instead, we all checked into the same hostel and then ventured off together for a late dinner.

Days 67-70: Potosi & Sucre, Bolivia

The original purpose for our stopover in Potosí was to take a tour of a silver mine. Potosí has thousands of mines tapping into its vast supply of unclaimed silver. However, we ultimately decided against the trip. Potosí is the highest city in the world. So the altitude was already putting our bodies through enough strain, without the added features of cramped space and limited air supply.

Instead, we booked a midday bus to a different town, and spent the morning walking around Potosí. One of the first things I noticed upon walking around was the Bolivian dress. While most of the youth wore outfits mirroring our own, the older generation, particularly the women, donned more traditional garb, including: wide-brimmed or bowler hats (which I later learned, can be positioned in different ways to signify marital status), braided hair, brightly colored shawls, long skirts, and often, belongings or babies on back.

This clothing could be seen everywhere throughout town, especially in the central market. There, we had a fun time walking around and looking at the brightly colored stands with impressive selections.

Pastas Galore

Bolivian Salad Bar--my friend and I ended up getting bagged salads for lunch; they were amazingly fresh, and for 6 items, a costly 1.50usd

After waking around for a couple hours, it was finally time to head to the bus station. There, we encountered one of the most confusing, chaotic systems I have ever seen. The terminal had two levels, and from the outer balcony of the top level, dozens of women shouted unintelligible phrases. We figured out that this was probably their way of announcing arrivals and departures, but it did not help much. Eventually we found our bus, but not before nearly missing it. The seven of us--me, Dan, the Australian couple, the German couple, and the Italian--ended up running with our belongings to get to the bus just before it left the terminal. 

A couple of hours later, we were in Sucre. It was a more built up city than Potosí, yet still had a charm because of the predominately whitewashed buildings and narrow streets. 

Our small clan walked through town to our hostel, which had apartment style rooms, fully equipped with a kitchen and living room for the steep price of $13 per person per night. We decided to take advantage of the facilities by cooking dinner together in one of the apartments that evening. Stefano, our Italian friend, was staying at a different hostel but promised to rejoin us to help prepare something special. So an hour after checking in, we all met up in front of a supermarket to get the ingredients. The supermarket had an unimpressive selection, though, so we decided to try our luck at the central market instead. 

There, we were overwhelmed by the amazing variety of food. Because it was getting late, we only explored the produce section, but were still awed by the quantity and quality of the fruits and vegetables. We got what we needed and made a plan to return the following day in order to better explore the market. Upon returning to the hostel, we began making dinner. The star of the meal was to be homemade gnocchi from our very own Italian. It was fun to watch him prepare the dish; he had clearly done it several times before and made it look easy.

 

One of our friends made guacamole and chips as a starter. Dan also contributed by making a vegetable dish, which Stefano, in true Italian fashion, insisted must be served after the pasta. By 9, we were all sitting down like a mini family, eating good food, drinking wine, and talking. It was nice to be with the same group we had spent the past few days with because the conversation went much deeper than the usual "where are you from?" and "where have you been traveling?"

Giant avocado for guacamole

Giant papaya for dessert

The rest of our time in Sucre passed in a consistent, but pleasant manner. We cooked breakfast together, walked around town, spent a lot of time at the food and clothing markets, and then cooked or went out to dinner together. 

More about the central market... Spanning three levels and several blocks, it was one of the most impressive displays of food I have ever seen. There were numerous sections, each with nearly identical offerings as the adjacent counters: meats, fruits, vegetables, pastas, cheese, desserts, spices, nuts, and even stands devoted solely to items like eggs or avocados. Interestingly, nearly all of the stands (including the meat counters) were run by women, who were either sitting or standing next to their fare. 

Illegally taken photo of cow heads

On top of all this, a section of the market was allocated to serving lunch. Again, each stand mirrored the previous, with old women attempting to lure potential patrons to eat their food. They would then provide a heaping plate of the selected entree for the equivalent of two US dollars. We ate there twice, and I must say, the food was much better than I had expected.

Our last night in Sucre, we had one final dinner with our friends and made tentative plans to reconnect once we were all in La Paz (we would all be heading there at different times over the coming days). During our final day, Dan and I went to an excavation site. There, we were able to see dinosaur fossils and footprints that were over 60 million years old. It was amazing to see how well preserved the footprints were, and Dan had fun getting up close to them.

That afternoon, we said goodbye to Sucre and headed on to the next stop on our journey.

 

Day 65: Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

The morning after our rough night of sleep, we ate breakfast, packed our belongings, loaded up the trucks, and took off in our altitude-induced stupors. In the car, our guide, Juan, passed around a large bag of coca leaves, which we all  began chewing in an attempt to curb our sickness. We were all feeling somewhat better by the time we approached our first stop: a series of sedimentary rocks that had been broken apart and reshaped by volcanic activity and weathering. 

The most intriguing of the rocks was one that was appropriately nicknamed the stone tree. 

After walking around for a bit, we got back in the truck and continued to travel through the desert. Juan explained that the southern part of the desert is called the Atacama, or dry, Desert, while the northern part is called the Seloli, or cold, Desert. Both are equally appropriate, the only distinction being that different native tribes had long ago branded the desert in their own way.

Much of the day passed in a blur, with stops at various sights including more lagoons with more flamingos, a series of volcanoes, and an old train track.

Eventually, we made it to our hostel for the evening. This one was a significant improvement upon our previous accommodation, with some private rooms AND hot water. The one strange aspect about it was that all of the floors were covered in salt.

That night, we had a homemade dinner, during which I unknowingly ate my first llama (very chewy, would not recommend). After the meal, we enjoyed a few hours of electricity, during which we showered, talked, and played card games. We all agreed upon an early wake up for the following morning in order to see the sunrise over the Uyuni salt flats. That decision, combined with the toll the altitude continued to take on us, had us all in bed by 9pm.

Day 64: Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

Early Friday morning, Dan and I left San Pedro to begin a three day excursion through the southern region of Bolivia. This is a common journey for backpackers because it promises amazing views through the desert and salt flats, and is one of the only means for traveling through the vast nothingness that separates San Pedro and central Bolivia. 

That being said, I had heard mixed reviews about people's experiences on this journey, so I did a fair amount of research before we finally selected our tour company. Prior to leaving, the company advised us to buy 5L jugs of water apiece as well as a roll of toilet paper; neither would be accessible along the way. In addition, we were told to leave a bathing suit, towel, and plenty of warm clothes in easy reach.

We were picked up by a full van at 8am. Already in the vehicle were 2 Aussies,1 Italian, 1 Brit, 3 Germans, and 2 Brazilians; all twenty-somethings who were prepared for an adventure. Together, we drove for a mere 30 minutes before arriving at the Bolivian border. There, we paid the country's entrance fee (which has been a requirement for Americans--but few others--in nearly every country we have gone to) and had our passports stamped. Then, our group split into two different vehicles, trucks that would be better equipped to handle the rugged terrain we would be riding over. Our large backpacks and jugs of water were tied to the top of the truck and covered with tarp, and then we got inside. In our car, we were with the Australian couple, Shari and Andrew, and the Italian guy, Stefano. Next to our driver sat our tour guide, Juan, a Bolivian who spoke perfect English, tended to his llama and quinoa farms when he wasn't operating tours, and had a great sense of humor.

We rode for a little while longer before entering the Parque Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa. There, we drove through a barren landscape with makeshift roads. We stopped several times along the way. Our first stops were at two lagoons, both having different colors because of minerals in the water. They were a beautiful and strange sight among the expansive nothingness that surrounded them.

Blue Lagoon

Green Lagoon 

Next, we pulled over at some hot springs, where we had an opportunity to soak in the naturally heated water. Our following stop was at a group of geysers. We were told they were most impressive in the early morning, so I didn't expect much. Yet I ended up pleasantly surprised. The first thing we noticed after exiting the truck was the strong smell of sulfer in the air. As we got closer, we could see hot steam flowing from cracks in the ground, gurgling gray liquid, and yellow, sulfur-laced dirt. 

I had never seen anything like it, so I was happily walking around and exploring the sight. Dan, on the other hand, wasn't doing so well at this point. The elevation increased as we had driven, and at 4,9000 meters, the geysers were the highest we would go. The altitude was having a strong affect on Dan, who was feeling very winded and achy all over.

After the geysers, we drove to our hostel. Juan pre-warned us that the accommodations would be very basic, so we were not at all surprised to discover the cement-walled building had dorm-style rooms, no heated water, and zero showers. After putting our belongings down, we all ate lunch together. Then, we went out for our final excursion of the day to a beautiful red lagoon. The water there was tinted red because of the breed of algae living in it. At the lagoon, we also got our first of many flamingo sightings. The birds sat undisturbed as they pecked at the neverending supply of red algae.

Red Lagoon

I started the day in shorts, but the whipping winds forced me to continuously add layers

After our trip to the red lagoon, we went back to the hostel, had some afternoon snacks, and spent the rest of the day relaxing. When we emerged for dinner, it was clear we were all feeling the effects of the altitude. Some people had headaches, others had stomachaches, a handful felt nauseous, and the really lucky ones experienced a combination of all three. We did our best to push through our sickness as we ate a tasty homemade dinner. Afterward, we stayed around the table to talk, challenge each other with riddles, and share hidden talents. The Italian, Stefano, even brought out a ukulele and played a few songs for us.

Eventually, we went to our rooms, where we put on several layers in preparation for a cold night in the desert. The hostel lights had gone on at 7pm and turned off precisely three hours later, indicating it was bedtime. That night, despite our best efforts, we all experienced a restless sleep due to the low temperatures and high altitude.

 

Day 63: San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

Thursday morning, Dan and I rented bikes from our hostel and rode to an attraction called Laguna Cejar. We rode over 25km on very bumpy, unpaved "roads" to get there, all the while questioning if we were going in the right direction; there were no road signs and very few people or cars along the route. We were in the absolute middle of nowhere, which was seeming like a common theme for this region. 

Finally, we made it to our destination. A couple of little buildings and two small lagoons were all that was to be found, and we began to wonder if the arduous ride was worth it. Then, we disrobed and got into the first lagoon. Just as had been advertised, the water was dense with salt, and as soon as we relaxed our bodies, we were able to float! We had both thought the Dead Sea was the only place where such a feat was possible. But here in the middle of a South American desert, we remained buoyant in the clear, natural pool.

We tested out both lagoons, enjoying the mushy, muddy floor as we waded in the water. After we had our fill, we ate our pre-made lunches under a hut that provided the only visible shade. As the water on our bodies dried, it left numerous white streaks of salt behind. 

We spent a little more time in the water before rinsing off in freezing showers and then taking off on our bikes back for San Pedro. By that time, the sun was at its peak, and the rough roads only made the ride more taxing. At one point, we even had to stop riding to let a massive herd of goats and sheep pass. Needless to say, I was exhausted when we finally made it to our hostel two hours later.

That night, after having a little time to unwind, Dan and I went with one of our Valparaíso friends on an organized stargazing trip. Being someone who absolutely loves the night sky and literally cried after seeing her first shooting star, I was ecstatic. We met at 9pm, and then took off in vans for an open field in---you guessed it--the middle of nowhere. The location was absolutely perfect though; the combination of our altitude, the open area, a cloudless night, and the total absence of light pollution made for the most beautiful night sky I have ever seen. The unobstructed view gave the sky a planetarium-like feel, and though the guide had two telescopes present, we preferred to look around with our naked eyes.

The guide was a great resource, as he shared dozens of fascinating tidbits about the stars and planets in view. For example, we learned that in the Northern Hemisphere, you can see at-most 2,500 stars at a time, but here we were able to view a breathtaking 6,000 stars at once. Every few minutes we would become overwhelmed by some new piece of information he shared, that left us feeling equal parts happily intrigued and discouragingly insignificant. The guide also pointed out a number of constellations to us; some were quite easy to identify while for others, he encouraged us to drink more of the provided pisco sour in order to properly spot them. On top of all of this, we were treated to several shooting stars.

After a couple of hours, we went back to the center of the small town. It was our last night in San Pedro, a place that had left me with mixed impressions. On the one hand, I disliked the feeling that the town solely existed as a tourist destination; everything was overpriced and no one was local. On the other hand, the town had a quaint charm, good food, and incredible attractions. So overall, I was happy that we made San Pedro a stop on our journey.

Days 61-62: San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

On Tuesday, October 14th, Dan and I departed on a long bus ride for northern Chile. In fact, the ride ended up being much longer than we had anticipated: 10 hours on a day bus. Not only did border control take a long time, but scarily, someone started seizing on the bus so we pulled over at a hospital so she could receive attention. The driver only stopped for a short time, though, for fear that more people would fall ill from the increasing altitude. Dan was also feeling sick throughout the ride, and slept almost the entire way. The only redeeming aspect of the bus ride was the beautiful scenery. The landscape seemed to transform every hour or so, offering a variety of picturesque views.

Around 6pm, we finally pulled up to our destination: San Pedro de Atacama. On first sight, I was utterly confused. All I saw were dusty, dirt roads and a couple of shacks. However, once we went into the center of "town," which was literally one road, we discovered the charm of San Pedro. Nearly everyone in town was afoot and the small adobe shops and restaurants were shockingly clean. We would later discover the food was also really good;surprisingly so, since we were essentially in a desert in the middle of nowhere. After our long bus ride, we had a very low-key first night, and just hung out in our unexpectedly nice hostel.

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Dan and I spent the next morning sorting out our plans and activities for the coming days. That afternoon, we went on our first San Pedro excursion. We drove just 10 minutes outside of town to go sandboarding in a place called Death Valley, so named because of all of the previous sandboarding accidents. I joke... There are a number of theories of how this region got its name, the most prominent of which is that it was a simple mistranslation between a Belgian explorer and the Atacaman people.

Death Valley was a beautiful area with jagged hills that were covered in dirt and sand. 

Our excursion group drove through the landscape for a little before arriving at a massive sand slope. There, we all exited the van and were give a brief lesson on how to sandboard. It was essentially the same concept as snowboarding, so I hoped I would have better luck than my one previous attempt on snow. We helmeted up and walked with our boards to the top of the large hill. There, we went in succession through the sand. My first attempt was surprisingly successful, and I had varying performances after that. Dan and I had a lot of fun riding through the sand, though the heat and the exhaustion of repeatedly climbing back up the large dune stopped us from going at it forever.

Before long, it was time to get back in the van. Once all in, we drove to a lookout point where we had incredible views of the wide open landscape. There, we ran into three of our friends from Valparaíso and got a chance to catch up with what they had been up to since we last saw them. Together, we drank the provided pisco sours as we watched the sun set over the Atacama Desert.