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.
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