Bloody-high Bolivia

Gamal on tour
We arrived in Bolivia from San Pedro at the Laguna Blanca by bus and there, after what has to be the slowest and most unfriendly border crossing to date, changed to our transportation for the next three days, the reasonably comfy Toyota Land cruiser of Colque Tours. We were joined by our soon to be pals Californian Gabriel, Scotsman Keith, Irish Deirdre and British Annabel who would be our eating, drinking, driving and room mates for the next three days while we went across the magnificent scenery of southern Bolivia to Uyuni. The first two days we spent enjoying the beautiful multicoloured lakes, flamingos, weird Dali-esc scenery and very cute domesticated llama's, endangered vicunas and viscachas (a fairly large curvy-tailed rabbit like creature). The first night's sleep was in pretty uncomfortable dorm like accommodation which was made slightly worse by the enormous altitude we were at. We first went to 4900 metres to perform some "light" exercise walking around boiling and erupting geysers and then back down to 4200 metres where we would spent the night. For Sil, this meant spending most of the first part of the evening with her head in the toilet bowl while her team mates enjoyed a nice veggie soup and lovely plate of pasta. Luckily, by about 10pm the sickness passed and all that was left was a sleepless night for most everyone at this unusually high altitude. By the second night however everyone was better acclimatised and we had a great night playing spoons (ezelen for you Dutch folks out there) and getting a great night sleep in our very comfy beds (or at least 100% better then that first night). The next morning at 6 sharp, we were all bright and awake in anticipation for the main attraction of the three day tour, the salt planes of Bolivia. At 12000 square kilometres it is larger then Lebanon and filled with kilometre after kilometre of salt as far as the eye can see. It was an unbelievable experience and thoroughly enjoyed by everyone we met on the way. It made people do some pretty weird stuff however and we have seen more than a few people (not all Scots!) lose all their cloths for an once-in-a-lifetime picture! The fact that our driver was not entirely sober didn't really seem to make a difference, as we were crossing straight across the salt lakes, with no one in sight for miles until we reached the isla del pescado. This strange island oasis in the middle of the salt planes is literally filled with thousands of cacti ranging from small to large and enormous. The largest one reaching a good 12 meters in height, and the oldest being 1200 years old. We spent a few hours strolling and climbing along the stunning rocks and nature of the island, before heading of to the salt hotel (huge disappointment) and a salt factory where we were shown the process of collecting, producing and packing salt - what a horrendous time-consuming physical work! The factories are family-run and the kids start "helping" (i.e. working "no more" than 6 hours a day) from the age of 5/6 onwards, and spend the rest of their lives doing the exact same thing, for a miserable 4 dollars per 50kg! At night we arrived in Uyuni and could look back on an exceptional three days in some of the most amazing scenery we have ever seen.

Mining Gamal
The next day we hopped on a local bus to Potosi, the highest city in the world (4300m), mining capital of Bolivia and formerly one of the richest cities in the world with its huge reserves of silver and minerals, where we visited one of the local mines. Unfortunately the so-called best agency in town (Koala tours) did not bother to inform us that they were cleaning the mine that week, and that we could not really see anyone in action (apparently the fact that they charge double the price of all other agencies is not a reason to go to another mine, or give their visitors the chance to experience the real thing. So if you ever go there, boycott them and book with anyone else or your hostel... with a bit of luck they'll also throw an almuerzo lunch in for the price!). Nevertheless, the sight that awaited us in the mines was still quite shocking. We crawled with our full mining gear on (headlamps, hard hats, trousers, boots etc.) through the narrowest of tunnels into complete darkness for three hours, breathing an oxygen-poor air rich in asbestos, arsenic and sulphur, to experience what the average miner had to go through all of his adult life (and often a large part of his childhood). We got a chance to speak to some of the miners down in the pitch-dark depths and soon realised why these people chewed coca leaves all day long (apparently to fight hunger, thirst, sleep and tiredness) and drank 90 percent alcohol as often as they could (to remain so-called sane). It is a very sad and poor existence but having said that, a lot of the guys seemed to genuinely enjoy being a miner (a real macho environment with a super strong brotherhood spirit). We were never as happy as that day to see the daylight outside and get out of the damp surroundings. It is one of those things you are very glad you did, but know you'll never repeat again - that and complaining at work about cramped office space, slow network connections, not having a desk by the window and luke-warm coffee!

Sweet like a sugar Gamal
After a fairly short stay in Potosi we headed up to Sucre, the official capital of Bolivia but actually just a very cute little town where we went to discover dinosaur tracks on the Dino-truck. Even though it was a near-Disney experience it was nevertheless really interesting to see hundreds of tracks made by various types of dinosaurs millions of years ago and to receive the explanations of our over enthusiastic dinosaur imitating guide. The site is protected by UNESCO so we figure that it must be real, even though it seems a bit hard to believe! At night we had dinner at the Joy Ride cafe which is run by 2 motor-cycle loving Dutch guys and has real kroketten on the menu, an item rapidly consumed, and thoroughly enjoyed by us and some other dutchies whom we had met on the three day trip from Chile. We would be spending quite a bit of time with these guys so here they are: Kim and Alex, and Ronald and Willemijn (who turned out to be an old school mate of our friend Viola but more about them later).
Since there was not much else to see in Sucre, and we had to be in La Paz on time to meet with Viola and Frans (our good friends from Dubai/Holland) we decided to head up to Cochabamba which was supposed to be a lovely city, great atmosphere, and a lot of other good stuff, but after about 6 hours we decided that it definitely was none of the above and made plans to go to La Paz the very next day.

Gamal in the shoe shine capital of the world
La Paz, the largest city and unofficial capital, is a lovely place even though the altitude does make you constantly tired and very cold. At 3600 metres it is the highest capital in the world but very cute. We were staying in the witchcraft area, where lots of older women sold dried lama foetuses (that are traditionally buried under the foundation of a new house for good luck), dried birds, cats and dogs (all thought to have magical powers), card and stone readings, magical statues etc. It was great to walk around and buy lots of souvenirs (which we could later conveniently give to V & F to take home).
After having had his shoes polished about 80 times, Chris decided it would be a good time to test his stamina and manhood, and booked a climb on Huyana Potosi, a 6088 metres ice covered volcano just outside of the city, while Sil had a few extra days to relax and study Spanish (yeah right, more like have breakfasts, lunches and dinners with the girlfriends of the other two Dutch guys who were heading up the mountain with Chris!).

coming soon: Has Chris conquered the mountain, or has the mouintain conquered Chris?

Since we had been in La Paz for quite some time already, without effectively doing much and Silvia was starting to feel quite homesick (more like travel weary actually, just longing for some normality and regularity), we decided we had to start making some plans again to fill our days until V & F arrived in La Paz. We had been tossing with the idea of going to Rurrenbaque from where you can visit the jungle or Pampas area of Bolivia, but when we went to get some information, the trips were sold so badly that we didn't really feel like going anymore. Sil persisted however and the next day we were all ready to board the plane, when, upon arrival at the airport, we were told the flight was cancelled due to bad weather. Really pressed for time now we tried again the next day and lady luck was with us that time. We boarded the tiny 12 seater plane and a bumpy hour later we landed on a strip of land in the middle of the jungle of Rurrenbaque.

Anacondas and piranhas for dinner
What a difference from city life!! The lush green stretches were super appealing, the air was hot, oxygen plentiful and we couldn't wait to head into the pampas the next day. We had decided to go to the Pampas instead of the jungle, as there would be much more wildlife to see in the Pampas, instead of more Flora and fauna in the jungle. And wildlife we saw! From the moment we stepped into the small motorboat, which would take us to our jungle camp we were overwhelmed by sightings of alligators, super cute little monkeys (which were feeding from our hands), tonnes of birds, capybara(a weird Tapir-like animal), and this was only the beginning. The camp was very basic, but we had a fun group with some Americans, one Brit and one Israeli (a fun, simple, non-arrogant, not loud Israeli, which is a rare and highly appreciable thing) and great staff. Nina the cook was phenomenal and treated us to buffet after buffet of great food, all cooked on two open wood fires and three old black pans. The last day she even managed to present us with the most delicious sponge cake we have ever eaten, fully decorated in 5-star hotel fashion, and all this without an oven!! The second day we spent walking through the pampas, the muddy, watery swamp like areas with very high grass (up to 2m), which we carefully scanned in search of an anaconda. It was great fun, although very tiring -and oh my god so dirty, but after one and a half hours we were treated to a stunning 2 meter anaconda. Most people managed to hold it and get their picture taken with it, and in the process got shat all over by the terrorised animal. We could smell them for the rest of the day, which, trust me, was not exactly chanel-number-freekin-five!. On the way back we went for a little alligator search and found a little baby stuck with his head in the mud, thinking we couldn't see him. He looked almost positively surprised when our guide grabbed him by the tail and dragged him out of his hole. Only after getting many pictures taken he was free to go, and no doubt very happy to get away intact. In the afternoon we went for a swim in a pink dolphins infested area (or so it was supposed to be) but after not being able to see anything except green murky water, and knowing the alligators were just a few meters away, we decided to stop playing with our lives, and go instead play with the one of the piranhas. Fishing with a simple rod and lots of juicy red meat turned out to be very easy for some and not so for most. Eddy the Israeli and Trevor, the Yankee, kept on popping them one after the other. The honour of the Lebanese/Dutch couple was saved by Silvia who caught one big fat tenacious mama; then immediately got into a panic, threw the fish line and all at Chris, screaming "take him off the hook, take him out and throw him back, HE IS GOING TO DIE!!". Brave Chris managed to save this one -breaking his jaw and ripping off half his head in the process- and thus immediately put Sil out of the race for catching the largest fish. Not very smart but whattodo? - "ooh, we should have taken a picture!" dared to say Sil once the doomed animal was back in the water, probably being served as midday snack to his family members. In the end, one of the many fish caught by Eddy managed to avenge his brothers by pushing his teeth deep into Eddy's hand when he wasn't paying attention, causing blood to gush all over the boat and the other amateur fisherman. No need to say that Eddy did get the last word a bit later when this same fish appeared onto his plate, salted, battered, fried and all.
The last day it was time again to pack up and start the 4 hour boat ride back to the shore after seeing a mosquito-rich stunning sunrise at 6 am. What an amazing three days.

Sand fly freekin Coroico
Although we had flown into Ruhrre, we decided to take the bus back to stop in Coroico on the way back. This little town is about three hours away from La Paz, and is normally visited by people who cycle down the "world's most dangerous road" in what seem to be 4 hours of fast life-threatening hairpin curves and pumping adrenaline. As the local operators dare ask the ridiculous sum of USD 50 pp for the ride, and as Sil had had her share of cycling dangerous roads (after Canada); we opted to go by bus instead. Coroico is indeed a lovely little town and would have been great if not for the millions of sand flies which attacked us as soon as we had stripped off and laid our bare skin on the sun beds near the pool. As soon as we realised we were being eaten alive by these diabolic creatures (may they all burn in eternal Hell!), Silvia raced inside and spent the rest of the day reading on the bed fully clothed. Smartass Chris stayed outside, writing his emails, thinking he'd be safe away from the pool, covered in Mosquito spray from head to toes and surrounded by mosquito coils. NOT! These Satanic insects devour you alive no matter what; and for the next three weeks Chris would be scratching and scratching and scratching, and swearing and swearing and yes you get the point. We were therefore a little bit relieved to board the bus the next day and head up the worlds' most dangerous road, with Sil, as usual, sleeping most of the way you would do exactly the same if, just before boarding, you heard that just a few days earlier, an ascending mini-bus fell into the ravine, killing all 12 passengers!).

Gamal receives visitors
Back in La Paz we booked back into our hotel and got ready for the next morning when Viola & Frans (F&V) were to arrive.
Of course, when we arrived at the airport at 06.00am heard that their plane was delayed and that we'd have to wait another hour before seeing them. But it was all worth it, seeing our great friends, who had flown half-way around the world for 26 hours just to visit us, was incredibly great. We had bought them some typical (and just slightly ridiculous looking) Bolivian hats and gloves to wear through some of the coldest days, or at least until we would be in warmer weather, in Peru. After having a little breakfast and a well-deserved shower, we checked their energy meters and decided we would still head to Copacabana on Lake Titicaca, where we had proactively made reservations at La Cupula, a lovely little hostel which had been highly recommended by Gabriel and lots of other people.

Unfortunately the three hour bus/boat/bus ride turned out to be a bit much in combination with the altitude and Viola got a bit sick by the time we arrived in Copa. (after all, F&V had gone from -6m <Schiphol> to +4200m <El Alto airport>, down to +3600m <La Paz>, then back up to +3800m in just under 30 hours. There is just no amount of aspirin or diamox that can beat that altitude sickness!). We had actually expected both of them to be very effected by the altitude, so all in all tings were not too bad.

Killing them softly
As F&V were on a rather short time schedule, Sil the tour guide had prepared a to-the-minute chockablock itinerary, according to which we would spend the next day doing a nice few hours walk to Isla del Sol and then sleep on the island. But in a rare moment of generosity, Sil grabbed her pencils, rulers and compasses, and in a whiz, drew a complete new tri-dimensional Pert Chart outlining the vacation's planning, then gave her official green light to eventually postpone tomorrow's departure and see how we all felt. The next morning however everyone felt really good, and we set of on what should have been a nice leisurely 4/5 hour walk but turned into a "small" 8-hour nightmare, when the shortcut we were supposed to take turned into a 2,5 hour mountain climb along very steep and narrow ridges. By the time we realised we had obviously taken a wrong turn somewhere we were too far to turn back and decided to press on. After 2,5 hours we did get to the end of our path but were immediately stuck on a ledge from where we could only go up or swim around. Luckily enough we were saved by fishermen who had seen us climb along and realised we would get stuck. He took us in his boat and dropped us back on the shore. Now at this stage we were still under the impression we were very close to the island but our dreams were quickly shattered when the fisherman told us it would be at least another 1,5 hours to the end of the island. By this stage V & F were already very tired, jetlagged and all, and were not the happiest of chappies, but we had to go further. After another 2 hours or so we finally got to the end of the peninsula and could board a small motor board who would take us to the Isla del Sol, as near to the guesthouse as possible. Well he did, but unfortunately all the guesthouses were on the top of the hill, about 250 metres up Inca-time (read -*very* irregular and slippery) flights of stairs. I don't think they were ever as happy as seeing the guesthouse and a bed as this particular day. Frans, Chris and Sil went alone for a quick bite to eat before crashing to bed as well, and enjoy a well deserved break. As if this day wasn't enough we all decided to go for another walk the next day to the north end of the island (it's amazing how fast the body recovers and the mind forgets). Luckily for all of us, the guidebooks had not lied this time, and it was indeed a stunning, reasonably easy walk, with some amazing views of the island and surrounding waters of lake Titicaca. After a good though extremely slow lunch in a miniscule fishermen village, we had just enough time to catch the last ferry back to Copacabana. But our taxi-boat driver had clearly decided that he had plenty of time, so he took a very leisurely tempo on his 40-some minute ride to the main southern pier. He did though, at one moment, as we were all nervously looking back and forth between our watches and the little windows, up the tempo somewhat. But, as we saw our next boat leave the dock, he suddenly reduced the throttle and regained his mañana-mañana snail pace. Grrrr, woof-woof, we screamed, and shouted, and tried, in our bet loud Spanish, to tell him to hurry the f*** up and catch that b*** boat! (we really aught to learn a few handy local swear words because it is getting increasingly frustrating to scream using only the grammatically-correct polite form). He told us to stop stressing so much as the boat would stop again a little further to let off people, and so continued at tuff tuff speed. It took several serious threats of strangulation and taking over command of the boat ourselves for him to realise that there was no joking around with the 3 enraged dutchies and the ugly terrorist, and to step on it and get us on the moving ferry. With beads of sweat on our forehead of stress and frustration we sat back to enjoy the last 1,5 hour boat ride back to Copa and got ready to get on a bus and head into Peru the next day. These last few days had been pretty intense (understatement of the quarter), and F&V were starting to seriously doubt not only the reciprocity of their friendship, but also whether they would ever come out of this "vacation" alive! This kind of rhythm was not really sustainable -and certainly not desirable- for our two luxury beach dwellers. Once in Peru, we would have to take it a bit easier, and that would be no problem whatsoever, cause it was already planned in the A3-sized double-sided colour project charts of our logistic mastermind, the one'n'only Sil.

Conclusion
All in all we had a great time in Bolivia. It might have been a bit slow at first, it might have lacked active stuff in the beginning (we often had the feeling that we were merely going in and out of cities, not going deep enough into things...), but from Rurrhe onwards, it all changed, and we regained our usual joie de travelling.
After hearing so much about it, we had expected Bolivia to be our favourite place in whole of South America. Yet, although its salt lakes, altiplano, jungle and smaller cities are incredibly beautiful, we still somehow favoured Chile, and were dead excited about visiting all the marvels that were still waiting for us in Peru...
So much to do, so little time.