While it looks like the blog has gone to the dogs, this travelling thing leaves no time to blog.
Honest.
It will still be as good even if it's written once I'm back in New Zealand, right?
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Cusco
Cusco Peru
Instead of forking out around 200BS for a trip to Cusco (around NZ $50), we decided to travel the local way. It started with a taxi guy trying to rip us off, initially sayin
g 10Bs to get to the bus stop, then it changed to 15Bs once we were in the car. We took a rather full van to the border town of Desaguadero - a 2 Hour ride for 10Bs each. Once at the border, we were hounded (not to the extent of Southeast Asia) by 2 rickshaw drivers. Again, once we arrived at our muy lejos (very far) border destination 300m down the road, the driver demanded 5Bs each instead of just 5Bs for both. Across the border and finally in Peru, we took a larger bus to Puno - another 3 hour journey past Lake Titicaca. Here we had to choose between taking a taxi to Cusco (around 6 - 7 hours away) or an overnight bus and get to sleep an extra two hours in the bus once we arrive at Cusco. Derek and I certainly tossed up the tantilising offer of h
aving a car drive us rather quickly to Cusco, but there were two men in the car already and despite the man's apparent credentials, Derek didn't want to get burnt twice by getting into a fake taxi so we took the overnight bus. Turns out I really can't sleep on overnight buses *sigh*. We arrived early in Cusco and got to sleep until around 5am. They kicked us off the bus and it appeared we were the only tourists in the entire bus terminal and three vulture-like hostel workers surrounded us trying to sell us their hostels. People have something against people walking here - we were told not to walk into town as it was muy lejos, muy lejos! Turns out its around 3 - 4km. Don't they know people come here to walk the 30-odd km to Machu Picchu? Granted most of the walk is done with donkeys and porters.
Cusco is just as touristy as you'd expect. But the old part of town itself is very cute with cobblestone streets, alleyways of artisans, hidden courtyards and a cafe that does simply excellent breakfasts.
The town had a celebration yesterday which I'm sure does
n't happen every Sunday but considering the level of tourists here, maybe it does. The marching band played, some noble people stood by the flagpole as both the Peruvian and Cusco flags were raised to blow in the wind and bask in the sun. There were traditionally dressed peop
le dancing traditional dances. A group of 5 woman approached me, 4 holding baby goats, one pulling a llama on a rope, saying, "you take picture! you take picture! very cute very cute, you take picture!". Walking past repeating, "no gracias" with emphasis on the no, it was about 3 minutes later that they all came sprinting down the road past me, round the corner and they continued until they reached an alley that they hid in. I looked behind me to find two policeman calmly strolling down the road with the purpose of making these woman leave the plaza area and leave tourists alone.
These great siamese animals were on display in the museum. Along with these great tiny spiders. Clearly they are dead otherwise I wouldn't be anywhere near them.
There are four ruins around Cusco that cost a tourist 70soles for a day pass ($45NZ). Approached on the walk up to Saqsaywaman, we took the option of a horse trek to the other three ruins. Saqsaywaman means 'Satisfied Falcon' and sounds like 'sexy woman'. It's on the hill overlooking Cusco and was the site of the battle between t
he Spanish and Manco Inca. Thousands of dead lay at the site after the battle and attracted swarms of carrion-eating Andean condors. Some of the stones used to build the fort were between 5 - 7m high.
Derek's horse, Paloma, refused to let my horse, Capricornis, past her. Several reasons could be a) she liked being first or b) she wanted to set a slower pace because she was carrying Fat Derek on her back but in all likelihood, it was because Capricornis appeared to have a very bad case of the farts. We managed to get in front of Paloma for around 15 minutes and poor Paloma just got a face full of fart. "In your face Paloma!" Capricornis appeared to say.
Tambomachay and Pukapukara are two ruins close to each other. Tambomachay is 'El Bano del Inca' (Inca's bath) as it is a ceremonial bath that channels clear spring water. Pukapukar
a was another fort that had views of the valley of Cusco.
Pushed for time by the approaching thunder storm, our guide kept encouraging our horses to trot towards the last ruins, Q'enqo. Q'enqo apparently had many channels carved into it's ceremonious altar rocks, perhaps to channel blood. Bit hard to see with about 100 teenagers crawling all over the ruins. In the cave below, the rock forms a llamas head (see photo) complete with an eye.
On the way back, Paloma was adamant Capricornis was not going to get infront of her and so took on an approach perfected by Jane, of veering infront of Carpricornis whenever she looked like passing. This included while we were trotting/cantering down the home straight. poor horse. Bet she was glad to see Derek leave.
As always, De
rek decided to try the local cuisine of Cuy (guineapig). I had no problem with him trying this until his dinner arrived at the table. Whole. Deep fried. With it's poor little mouth open. Suddenly I had difficulty eating my peanut soup. Roger became quite a spectacle as the man at the table next to us wanted to try some - his wife wouldn't let him order guinea pig. I went home to get the camera so we could have some photos with Roger. Poor little thing. Derek vowed to be vegetarian for a couple of days, just to help restabilise the karma.
RIP Roger.
Instead of forking out around 200BS for a trip to Cusco (around NZ $50), we decided to travel the local way. It started with a taxi guy trying to rip us off, initially sayin
g 10Bs to get to the bus stop, then it changed to 15Bs once we were in the car. We took a rather full van to the border town of Desaguadero - a 2 Hour ride for 10Bs each. Once at the border, we were hounded (not to the extent of Southeast Asia) by 2 rickshaw drivers. Again, once we arrived at our muy lejos (very far) border destination 300m down the road, the driver demanded 5Bs each instead of just 5Bs for both. Across the border and finally in Peru, we took a larger bus to Puno - another 3 hour journey past Lake Titicaca. Here we had to choose between taking a taxi to Cusco (around 6 - 7 hours away) or an overnight bus and get to sleep an extra two hours in the bus once we arrive at Cusco. Derek and I certainly tossed up the tantilising offer of h
aving a car drive us rather quickly to Cusco, but there were two men in the car already and despite the man's apparent credentials, Derek didn't want to get burnt twice by getting into a fake taxi so we took the overnight bus. Turns out I really can't sleep on overnight buses *sigh*. We arrived early in Cusco and got to sleep until around 5am. They kicked us off the bus and it appeared we were the only tourists in the entire bus terminal and three vulture-like hostel workers surrounded us trying to sell us their hostels. People have something against people walking here - we were told not to walk into town as it was muy lejos, muy lejos! Turns out its around 3 - 4km. Don't they know people come here to walk the 30-odd km to Machu Picchu? Granted most of the walk is done with donkeys and porters.Cusco is just as touristy as you'd expect. But the old part of town itself is very cute with cobblestone streets, alleyways of artisans, hidden courtyards and a cafe that does simply excellent breakfasts.
The town had a celebration yesterday which I'm sure does
n't happen every Sunday but considering the level of tourists here, maybe it does. The marching band played, some noble people stood by the flagpole as both the Peruvian and Cusco flags were raised to blow in the wind and bask in the sun. There were traditionally dressed peop
le dancing traditional dances. A group of 5 woman approached me, 4 holding baby goats, one pulling a llama on a rope, saying, "you take picture! you take picture! very cute very cute, you take picture!". Walking past repeating, "no gracias" with emphasis on the no, it was about 3 minutes later that they all came sprinting down the road past me, round the corner and they continued until they reached an alley that they hid in. I looked behind me to find two policeman calmly strolling down the road with the purpose of making these woman leave the plaza area and leave tourists alone.
These great siamese animals were on display in the museum. Along with these great tiny spiders. Clearly they are dead otherwise I wouldn't be anywhere near them.
There are four ruins around Cusco that cost a tourist 70soles for a day pass ($45NZ). Approached on the walk up to Saqsaywaman, we took the option of a horse trek to the other three ruins. Saqsaywaman means 'Satisfied Falcon' and sounds like 'sexy woman'. It's on the hill overlooking Cusco and was the site of the battle between t
he Spanish and Manco Inca. Thousands of dead lay at the site after the battle and attracted swarms of carrion-eating Andean condors. Some of the stones used to build the fort were between 5 - 7m high.
Derek's horse, Paloma, refused to let my horse, Capricornis, past her. Several reasons could be a) she liked being first or b) she wanted to set a slower pace because she was carrying Fat Derek on her back but in all likelihood, it was because Capricornis appeared to have a very bad case of the farts. We managed to get in front of Paloma for around 15 minutes and poor Paloma just got a face full of fart. "In your face Paloma!" Capricornis appeared to say.
Tambomachay and Pukapukara are two ruins close to each other. Tambomachay is 'El Bano del Inca' (Inca's bath) as it is a ceremonial bath that channels clear spring water. Pukapukar
a was another fort that had views of the valley of Cusco.Pushed for time by the approaching thunder storm, our guide kept encouraging our horses to trot towards the last ruins, Q'enqo. Q'enqo apparently had many channels carved into it's ceremonious altar rocks, perhaps to channel blood. Bit hard to see with about 100 teenagers crawling all over the ruins. In the cave below, the rock forms a llamas head (see photo) complete with an eye.
On the way back, Paloma was adamant Capricornis was not going to get infront of her and so took on an approach perfected by Jane, of veering infront of Carpricornis whenever she looked like passing. This included while we were trotting/cantering down the home straight. poor horse. Bet she was glad to see Derek leave.
As always, De
rek decided to try the local cuisine of Cuy (guineapig). I had no problem with him trying this until his dinner arrived at the table. Whole. Deep fried. With it's poor little mouth open. Suddenly I had difficulty eating my peanut soup. Roger became quite a spectacle as the man at the table next to us wanted to try some - his wife wouldn't let him order guinea pig. I went home to get the camera so we could have some photos with Roger. Poor little thing. Derek vowed to be vegetarian for a couple of days, just to help restabilise the karma.RIP Roger.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
La Paz
The drive into La Paz is amazing. You come through the plains of El Alto, before making your way down the steep cone sides of the basin that holds La Paz. The houses stretch up the canyon sides and rocks jut out from in between them. There are no cars really - just vans that are like mini buses. Just over 3 weeks of being here and La Paz is becoming overwhelming. The stench of urine and rubbish offends the nostrils so often. Its overpowering, more so than the cigarette smoke and people are even allowed to smoke inside. Packs of dogs roam the streets at night, looking for trouble, but usually only causing disturbances with their howls. Our flatmates seem unable to flush the toilet and have been dubbed the 'Flithatrons' or 'Smellatrons' We continually buy toilet paper watching it build up in the bin beside the toilet. My spanish teacher was surprised to learn that we flush our toilet paper down the loo. 'Tambien en Europa?' she asked. Yes, I explained. Most other countries flush their toilet paper. She was amazed.
The other day the shower sparked when I turned it on. That's security for you. "Hot" water anybody? Notice the electric wires hooked up to the metal overhead struts. The people seem fine with walking slowly, blocking your way and the walkways are so slippery, my ballet shoes have become deathtraps.
The markets are a sensory overload of colours, smells and sounds. My favourite stall being the spice sellers, because the smell of the bright orange, yellow, and brown finely ground spices is a relief from the stench of urine. You can get everything here: llama jumpers,llama socks, llama knitted bags, llama ponchos and of course your dead llama foetus, important for those house building ceremonies. Welcome to the Witches Market. The taxi vans yell their destination and price through the window, forever renegotiating the lanes of the road and using their horns to warn you of their presence. They don't slow down, they simply warn you and expect everyone to get out of the way. Easy to use - just flag one down - and cheaper than a taxi.
Our room in La Paz was in a one hundred year old house. A higgledy piggeldy array of rooms with various sized beds. Our view took in the street of J J Perez, straight across to the high mountains. Only because of this view did we ever get to see the silent lightening storms that raged over the far away ranges. And our nights are broken by the odd firework bonanza. People here protest and celebrate with fireworks. At the moment there are a group of people watching the prison in case there is an attempt to transfer a certain prisoner to another prison. They make sure everyone knows they are there by letting off fireworks every hour or so.
Whether you are for or against coca growing, you can learn so much from this little Museo de Coca. It comes complete with a cocaine addict dummy and the therapies that have been used to cure cocaine addict. The most effective (a rate of 100%) is the death penalty for those who refuse treatment. Cures all other problems at the same time.My spanish lessons became overwhelming with tenses and conjugations. oh sure, I understand them when they're explained but to remember is another thing. My brain has taken to waking at 4 or 5 in the morning, with thousands of verbs whizzing around trying to be conjugated in all 8 subjunctive forms. A tense that we don't even have in English. Several hours, numerous English songs and Eddie Izzard later, my brain settles down enough to sleep. Trying to understand the different types of past tense while learning a tense that I've never come across before, which they pretty much use all the time. Then in the last ten minutes of class, I ask to learn the other future. It takes all of 5 seconds for him to explain the simple additions to the end of the verbs. Why didn't they teach me that at the beginning of the lessons! Then I might have felt like I achieved at least one type of verb conjugation successfully. People do not slow down when they talk to you, even when you have that 'que?' look perfected. It appears that the
y think by repeating what they said at the same speed, I'll g
et it by the third time. ?Que?One of my teachers was a young male by the name of Rudy. A teacher/linguistic by day, he is a salsa dancer by night. Most of our lessons turned into discussions of Bolivia culture vs New Zealand culture. He was giving his girlfriend a pre-engagement ring, a step of committment to one another if they aren't living in the same town. He seemed amazed that I was traveling around with my boyfriend and that we had lived together in New Zeal and. He suspiciously kept throwing in questions regarding marriage during the conjugation examples. We went to his salsa class and learnt several moves that allow us to look like we might know what we're doing. Thats if our hip muscles ever recover.
My diet now consists of anything that doesn't offend my stomach. Which narrows it down to about three things. True to the form of this South American adventure, top of the list is mashed potato or pure de papas. It seems that for the entire trip, all I've done is crave mashed potato. Throw up in Cachi, crave mashed potato. Trying to find a dinner destination, anything with mashed potato. And I'm not even pregnant. Now I'm the first to admit that I thought instant mashed potato was the worst idea in the world. "Surely it tastes disgusting!" I remember me saying. Now though, instant mashed potato is the one of the surefire things that don't set my stomach into turmoil. Each day I look forward to coming home, boiling the water, adding the milk and gasping in wonder as small potato flakes turn into smooth velvety goodness. Potatoes are clearly in the Top 5.
Since we only have a 30 day visa, we are off to Peru to attempt a trek to Macchu Picchu. But we will be back in La Paz, for more adventures in just over two weeks.
Salar de Uyuni Tour
The bordertown of Bolivia is ingrained in my memory. Its stark contrast to the European-ess of Buenos Aires and even Salta left me a little unsure of myself. Colourful, it was the first time I had been somewhere and felt obviously like a european. The skin of the people is darker, their indigenous faces warm and weathered. Women wore many layers of skirts, their hair in long plaits down their backs and bowler hats. On their backs, the bright pinks, blues and yellows of the material they use for everything - carrying their wares and their children. The noise of street sellers, old cars and honking horns filled the air. And of course, the smell of urine was everywhere. I had to pay to use the public toilet and I was more than a little nervous to be left alone with the bags as Derek went off to use it too. Our bus was about 60 years old and we were the only white people on it. Some people making the two hour trip to Tupiza had to stand almost the entire way. Hold on tight because there aren't any toilet stops either - unless you get held up by roadworks and then you have to risk whether or not you get off the bus because if you aren't back on, it will leave without you.
A guy we had met in Buenos Aires was at the bus station and was heading our way. Being friendly we told him which hotel we were to stay at and that we were going to do the tour with that company too. After our extraordinarily long bus ride to Tupiza and some rather dodgy map reading skills, we found our hostel and organised the trip for the next day. Accompanying us would be the BA tourist and two Czechs - Katerina y Daniel). The BA tourist clearly wasn't acclimatised having only come from Salta, and since he was already having a bad time in Bolivia (having travelers toilet issues and having had his bag stolen at the Villazon bus station - at least he got it back!) he wasn't really in the mood for a Salt Flats Tour. By the time we reached our first destination - at 4200m above sea level - he was suffering partly from altitude sickness and partly from a bad reaction to being in Bolivia. Long story short, we woke at 4.30am for our early morning start and he was still refusing to take any coca or even try to continue with the tour. Our driver drove him all the way back to Tupiza, leaving us with only BA Tourist's promises to pay for extra food or petrol. When the driver returned to us that night, it turns out Mr Bastard Tourist had done a runner as soon as he had reached Tupiza. Our driver also doubted the extent of his altitude sickness too. Well, good riddance to bad luck.
We had had a wonderful day getting to know the local children. These two in particular were fascinated initially with Derek - a China man!wow! - and secondly with the travel guitar. They thought it was hilarious that I couldn't understand anything and just kept saying, "no entiendo". They charged Derek for taking photos, driving a tough bargain of 1 peso each for two photos. And still she refused to take her hat off.
The Salt Flats Tour from Tupiza is usually four days and follows the Chile/Bolivia border up to the Salar de Uyuni. On Day Two, our driver drove us extra fast so that we could get to the Aguas Callientes in time to allow us an hour soaking in the 4400m above sea level natural hot springs. We drove through Dali's Desert (as in Salvador), which is strewn with large pieces of rock, left over from some volcanic explosion. The volcano ranges have swirls of pinks, reds, whites and browns, making the mountains look like they are made out of Neapolitan ice cream. Where there was the most swirls, that was where the Devil was meant to reside.
Laguna Verde is not, I think, done total justice in this picture. After all the warm tones we had been traveling through, the green certainly made an impact. It is caused by the high traces of different minerals, including arsenic, in the water.
Back through Dali's desert and we were making our way to Laguna Colorada - the red lake. We reached this early on in the evening and because the boys wanted to photograph it with the sun going down, we opted to walk back across the rocky plain to the hostel. It didn't look far. Turned out to be somewhere between 6 - 8 km away. A long cold, bordering on dark walk back but completely worth it for this shot of the moon rise over the mountain.
At Laguna Colorada, there were plenty of flamingos to keep Derek happy. One animal I didn't expect to come across 40
00m asl was flamingos, in their hundreds, happily feeding in this shallow lake.
The next morning we encountered a hungry little fox that had a sore paw. We fed him some pancakes before he moved onto the next jeep behind us. Earlier in the trip we had also come across mountain rabbits - giant sized rabbits with really long tails. Hilarious!
Day Three took us to a lake with thousands of flamingos. These creatures don't act scared of you, and just when you think you're getting close enough for a good photo, they calmly walk away leaving you wishing you had a stronger zoom lens. Stupid tourists like some we encountered, think its great to yell at the flamingos and clap their hands so that the flamingos fly away. They aren't circus sideshows, and should be respected. Stupid tourists.
We stopped at the Sol de Manana, which is a geyser basin with boiling mud and sufurous fumaroles. Having been to Rotorua, the fact that this was almost 5000m above sea level put it in a completely different ball park.
Derek encouraged our driver to take us to the San Juan cemetery, which is between 1000 -
2000 years old, depending on who you talk to. The people buried their dead in tombs and some of the skeletons are still there today for you to see. They were buried in the foetus position, mostly facing towards the sun. There was even a childrens tomb. There is something so fascinating about learning about a culture from a cemetery, but somehow a little unethical to be poking your head into people's resting places. The best part was when the local lady opened up the artifacts little hut and we got to go in and touch the ancient artifacts - which included ancient hoes, pottery, material, hair, silver and of course the child's leather shoe. Derek wondered whether or not we should hold the plaits of hair up to the skull and put a drinking flask next to it. We decided this viking pose might be pushing the tasteful boundary just a little ...
At the Salar, we took the tour of a cave near to our salt hotel. This cave was formed when the Salar had either been a sea or been part of the sea (our spanish still needs working on). The Salar is part of a prehistoric salt lake called Lago Minchin, which covered most of southwest Bolivia. The sea carved out this cave and these strange stalactites and walls were formed by the sea foam and sea salt. It looked like webbing, but was
hard to the touch.
The Salar de Uyuni is the world's largest salt flat, sitting at 3653m above sea level and blanketing 12,000sq km. It's depth varies between 1m to 8m, depending on the amount of layers and who you talk to. There are holes in the salt which are filled with water - called the Eyes of the Salar. Its the perfect place for perception photographs - as any tourist will tell you.
Up at dawn to watch the sun rise was completely worth the lack of sleep. The sun chased the darkness away, turning the salt from black, to grey, to blinding white. There are several islands on the Salar and we stopped at Isla de los Pecadores, with giant cactus (apparently also 1000 years old) and a view of the never ending whiteness and tyre tracks.
We ended our tour in Uyuni, having lunch at the Train Cemetery - which is pretty much a huge bunch of rusting trains. We said goodbye to our newly made Czech friends and after much deliberation, caught the bus to La Paz (there's political unstableness so you have to watch for roadblocks).
It was the worst busride of my life. Leaving at 8pm,we had the seats right at the back. Because it was dark and the roads in Bolivia need more than tender loving care, the first 5 hours felt and sounded like we were riding an aeroplane through the centre of the earth. Nothing could describe it more perfectly. There was little sleep going on despite the 'semicama' promise of the seats, and at 1am we hit paved road. Finally! I thought, I can attempt to get some sleep!
But alas, the driver needed to be kept awake and so he put music on. Terrible Bolivian pop music at a level that meant we all could hear it. I guess he was awake -thats one good thing.
At 3.30pm we were forced to change buses in Oruro, paying 1.50bs for 'use of the terminal' (that simply means we walked the 5m from one side to another). But at least on this bus, finally, I got some sleep.
A guy we had met in Buenos Aires was at the bus station and was heading our way. Being friendly we told him which hotel we were to stay at and that we were going to do the tour with that company too. After our extraordinarily long bus ride to Tupiza and some rather dodgy map reading skills, we found our hostel and organised the trip for the next day. Accompanying us would be the BA tourist and two Czechs - Katerina y Daniel). The BA tourist clearly wasn't acclimatised having only come from Salta, and since he was already having a bad time in Bolivia (having travelers toilet issues and having had his bag stolen at the Villazon bus station - at least he got it back!) he wasn't really in the mood for a Salt Flats Tour. By the time we reached our first destination - at 4200m above sea level - he was suffering partly from altitude sickness and partly from a bad reaction to being in Bolivia. Long story short, we woke at 4.30am for our early morning start and he was still refusing to take any coca or even try to continue with the tour. Our driver drove him all the way back to Tupiza, leaving us with only BA Tourist's promises to pay for extra food or petrol. When the driver returned to us that night, it turns out Mr Bastard Tourist had done a runner as soon as he had reached Tupiza. Our driver also doubted the extent of his altitude sickness too. Well, good riddance to bad luck.
We had had a wonderful day getting to know the local children. These two in particular were fascinated initially with Derek - a China man!wow! - and secondly with the travel guitar. They thought it was hilarious that I couldn't understand anything and just kept saying, "no entiendo". They charged Derek for taking photos, driving a tough bargain of 1 peso each for two photos. And still she refused to take her hat off.
The Salt Flats Tour from Tupiza is usually four days and follows the Chile/Bolivia border up to the Salar de Uyuni. On Day Two, our driver drove us extra fast so that we could get to the Aguas Callientes in time to allow us an hour soaking in the 4400m above sea level natural hot springs. We drove through Dali's Desert (as in Salvador), which is strewn with large pieces of rock, left over from some volcanic explosion. The volcano ranges have swirls of pinks, reds, whites and browns, making the mountains look like they are made out of Neapolitan ice cream. Where there was the most swirls, that was where the Devil was meant to reside.
Laguna Verde is not, I think, done total justice in this picture. After all the warm tones we had been traveling through, the green certainly made an impact. It is caused by the high traces of different minerals, including arsenic, in the water.
Back through Dali's desert and we were making our way to Laguna Colorada - the red lake. We reached this early on in the evening and because the boys wanted to photograph it with the sun going down, we opted to walk back across the rocky plain to the hostel. It didn't look far. Turned out to be somewhere between 6 - 8 km away. A long cold, bordering on dark walk back but completely worth it for this shot of the moon rise over the mountain.
At Laguna Colorada, there were plenty of flamingos to keep Derek happy. One animal I didn't expect to come across 40
00m asl was flamingos, in their hundreds, happily feeding in this shallow lake.The next morning we encountered a hungry little fox that had a sore paw. We fed him some pancakes before he moved onto the next jeep behind us. Earlier in the trip we had also come across mountain rabbits - giant sized rabbits with really long tails. Hilarious!
Day Three took us to a lake with thousands of flamingos. These creatures don't act scared of you, and just when you think you're getting close enough for a good photo, they calmly walk away leaving you wishing you had a stronger zoom lens. Stupid tourists like some we encountered, think its great to yell at the flamingos and clap their hands so that the flamingos fly away. They aren't circus sideshows, and should be respected. Stupid tourists.
We stopped at the Sol de Manana, which is a geyser basin with boiling mud and sufurous fumaroles. Having been to Rotorua, the fact that this was almost 5000m above sea level put it in a completely different ball park.
Derek encouraged our driver to take us to the San Juan cemetery, which is between 1000 -
2000 years old, depending on who you talk to. The people buried their dead in tombs and some of the skeletons are still there today for you to see. They were buried in the foetus position, mostly facing towards the sun. There was even a childrens tomb. There is something so fascinating about learning about a culture from a cemetery, but somehow a little unethical to be poking your head into people's resting places. The best part was when the local lady opened up the artifacts little hut and we got to go in and touch the ancient artifacts - which included ancient hoes, pottery, material, hair, silver and of course the child's leather shoe. Derek wondered whether or not we should hold the plaits of hair up to the skull and put a drinking flask next to it. We decided this viking pose might be pushing the tasteful boundary just a little ...
At the Salar, we took the tour of a cave near to our salt hotel. This cave was formed when the Salar had either been a sea or been part of the sea (our spanish still needs working on). The Salar is part of a prehistoric salt lake called Lago Minchin, which covered most of southwest Bolivia. The sea carved out this cave and these strange stalactites and walls were formed by the sea foam and sea salt. It looked like webbing, but was
hard to the touch.
The Salar de Uyuni is the world's largest salt flat, sitting at 3653m above sea level and blanketing 12,000sq km. It's depth varies between 1m to 8m, depending on the amount of layers and who you talk to. There are holes in the salt which are filled with water - called the Eyes of the Salar. Its the perfect place for perception photographs - as any tourist will tell you.
Up at dawn to watch the sun rise was completely worth the lack of sleep. The sun chased the darkness away, turning the salt from black, to grey, to blinding white. There are several islands on the Salar and we stopped at Isla de los Pecadores, with giant cactus (apparently also 1000 years old) and a view of the never ending whiteness and tyre tracks.
We ended our tour in Uyuni, having lunch at the Train Cemetery - which is pretty much a huge bunch of rusting trains. We said goodbye to our newly made Czech friends and after much deliberation, caught the bus to La Paz (there's political unstableness so you have to watch for roadblocks).
It was the worst busride of my life. Leaving at 8pm,we had the seats right at the back. Because it was dark and the roads in Bolivia need more than tender loving care, the first 5 hours felt and sounded like we were riding an aeroplane through the centre of the earth. Nothing could describe it more perfectly. There was little sleep going on despite the 'semicama' promise of the seats, and at 1am we hit paved road. Finally! I thought, I can attempt to get some sleep!
But alas, the driver needed to be kept awake and so he put music on. Terrible Bolivian pop music at a level that meant we all could hear it. I guess he was awake -thats one good thing.
At 3.30pm we were forced to change buses in Oruro, paying 1.50bs for 'use of the terminal' (that simply means we walked the 5m from one side to another). But at least on this bus, finally, I got some sleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)