Uyuni is a hub for stopping or booking for salt flat tours. Our group and the second group I told you about all went to the same hostel as it was recommended to us by their guide. Me and four from the fantastic five group went out for dinner. After we ordered Jay and the two muskateers arrived in the same restaurant. Pants. It didn´t sway the mood though, we had such a good time. I felt so lucky to be on that table and not the other. The names of the group are Eleanor (the trainee nurse), and Johnny - both from Ireland, and Diana - UK and Liam - Irish. El and Johnny had been together since teenage years on and off and are finally together forever, we think. Diana and Liam met when volunteering abroad and have been a couple for a year and a half, visiting eachother once a month for a long weekend, they are so gonna be together forever, if you saw them you´d understand. All lovely open minded, interesting people. The fifth is Ben, who didn´t come out for food this night but we´d been bumping into eachother all over the place today (very small town) and all of us went to buy our bus tickets together. The bus station was not a station, it was a road where buses park and lots of ticket offices are stationed along the side.
We turned up in the morning for our bus to Potosi because we were all going in the same direction. There were two buses next to eachother, we thought the good big bus was ours but it wasn´t. Ours was the dodgy, broken and taped back together windowed old bus. Jay, Eddie and Terry laughed as they got on the good bus. We laughed that we were getting the experience of Bolivia that we wanted. Then I noted that the size of the wheels on their big bus were the same size as the ones on ours and wasn´t sure which was safer after all. Here comes the dangerous road on mountains edges. You´ll have to bear with me on this story.
Tuesday 23 September 2008
Incredible
The views were spectacular on this route, we went to Laguna Amarilla, Laguna Celeste, Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa, Laguna Colorado, Laguna Cañapa, Valles de Rocas, Alota, Avaroa, San Juan, Colchani, Solar de Uyuni, and finally to the Uyuni ghost trains that have been abandoned.
All I have to say is, do it. Explaining the views isn´t enough. I´ll explain the salt hotel though. Apparently our hotel had been picked up piece by peice and moved to it´s spot. It really was made of saltm I lick a wall. I bet hundreds of people have licked that wall before me but I needed to know.
On this tour we came across small towns in the middle of nowhere that rely on tourism. They are expecting our cars, I guess, a certain amount of times a day. Each store or outdoor market sells the same things. After going to a few, you buy something just because you can imagine that they don´t sell much at all. This may truelly mean that they sell a fair bit. They never hassle you to buy something.
There was a ghost town of crumbled ruins. The people who lived there felt that it was haunted so they all moved away. The guy whose name I just remembered, Terrence, really needed a number two. He couldn´t wait for ten minutes to get to the next inhabitated town so he found a quiet spot, shat, and covered it with rocks. Then told everyone. Charming.
Everything morning we needed to get up in the early hours of the morning, usually between 5am and 6am. The reason to get up early was to catch the sunrise or because we had a long day of driving ahead of us. This suited me, I woke up before the alarm every day anyway. So did Ben from the other group so we´d always look at eachother with groggy eyes and nodd - yep, we´re the first up again. I don´t know about him, but I always ended up napping in the car, which infuriated Jay a bit, I should have been talking. He says, if it wasn´t for me talking all the time what would you all do? When my eyes were shut I could still hear him. Luckily I was tired enough to ignore him and listen to my spanish music for practice. A couple of times Terry and Jay blew up and argued. Terry would also change personality when Jay was around and pretend not to like me, then be nice when he disappeared again. I wondered how old they really were. My tolerence of Jay had abandoned me with lack of sleep, so I just kept myself to myself and enjoyed any time I had with the other group. At least Eddie was ace, he wasn´t malicious in the slightest. If I do a group tour again, I´m going to do it with people unlike Jay.
In the buildings that we stayed electricity only came on at certain hours and there was a need for torches at night. We shared our table with the other group quite a lot, which made me happy. They taught me how to play a card game called shithead and they played poker with tea bags because they didn´t have chips. Lovely and creative.
On the tour I met a retired french lady who was traveling alone. She spent 7 months volunteering in Cusco teaching people how to knit, sew and weave so that they can make their own products to sell. She was ever so pleasant, I had to mention her.
All I have to say is, do it. Explaining the views isn´t enough. I´ll explain the salt hotel though. Apparently our hotel had been picked up piece by peice and moved to it´s spot. It really was made of saltm I lick a wall. I bet hundreds of people have licked that wall before me but I needed to know.
On this tour we came across small towns in the middle of nowhere that rely on tourism. They are expecting our cars, I guess, a certain amount of times a day. Each store or outdoor market sells the same things. After going to a few, you buy something just because you can imagine that they don´t sell much at all. This may truelly mean that they sell a fair bit. They never hassle you to buy something.
There was a ghost town of crumbled ruins. The people who lived there felt that it was haunted so they all moved away. The guy whose name I just remembered, Terrence, really needed a number two. He couldn´t wait for ten minutes to get to the next inhabitated town so he found a quiet spot, shat, and covered it with rocks. Then told everyone. Charming.
Everything morning we needed to get up in the early hours of the morning, usually between 5am and 6am. The reason to get up early was to catch the sunrise or because we had a long day of driving ahead of us. This suited me, I woke up before the alarm every day anyway. So did Ben from the other group so we´d always look at eachother with groggy eyes and nodd - yep, we´re the first up again. I don´t know about him, but I always ended up napping in the car, which infuriated Jay a bit, I should have been talking. He says, if it wasn´t for me talking all the time what would you all do? When my eyes were shut I could still hear him. Luckily I was tired enough to ignore him and listen to my spanish music for practice. A couple of times Terry and Jay blew up and argued. Terry would also change personality when Jay was around and pretend not to like me, then be nice when he disappeared again. I wondered how old they really were. My tolerence of Jay had abandoned me with lack of sleep, so I just kept myself to myself and enjoyed any time I had with the other group. At least Eddie was ace, he wasn´t malicious in the slightest. If I do a group tour again, I´m going to do it with people unlike Jay.
In the buildings that we stayed electricity only came on at certain hours and there was a need for torches at night. We shared our table with the other group quite a lot, which made me happy. They taught me how to play a card game called shithead and they played poker with tea bags because they didn´t have chips. Lovely and creative.
On the tour I met a retired french lady who was traveling alone. She spent 7 months volunteering in Cusco teaching people how to knit, sew and weave so that they can make their own products to sell. She was ever so pleasant, I had to mention her.
children! scarper!!
Each time we stayed at a destination (3 nights) we were with the group that we met at the tour office, who was also the group that I had the pleasure of sharing their 4x4 when Lucy had her accident. When in their car we stopped at the place where Lucy was to be left and we would pick up a new cook. The children that surrounded us could sense that I had chocolate in my bag... they gathered around us asking for sweets then innocently waiting for us to speak. A few of us tried talking to them, because I couldn´t talk I asked them to dance for me. Which one seven year old, celia, would only do if I did first. So, stupidly I did some turns and stepped from side to side, in front of all of these people that I had recently met. Luckily they smiled at us with encouragement. We carried on dancing to eachother and ending up twirling eachother, unsuccessfully when she tried to turn me, being half my height n all. I asked if I could take their picture, to which they were shy at first but then were really happy to be accidentally caught in a picture that I showed them. Half trusting a boy who wanted to take a picture for me, I ran along side him as he took pictures of the most shy girls. Then Celia wanted to take pictures but couldn´t understand the idea of not looking through a view finder and kept trying to look through the zoom and taking pictures of her face upsidedown. Some experiments later and she got it. Now there were less children so I dçfigured I had enough chocolate for just them. As soon as the chocolate came out it seemed like a war had borke out and more kids flew around the corner in a perfectly made war line to get to the fron. I broke off the smallest pieces of chocolate understanding how it could of felt for Jesus handing out fish. It really did go far. Aiming for the smallest kids first so they wouldn´t cry, I ended at the melted part of the chocolate and threw it into the crowd and they all scarpered towards it and followed the kid that grabbed it. Wow. In hindsight, I should never have taken out my chocolate. Ben, from the other group, wound me up that the crying kid in the distance was upset that he didn´t get any chocolate. I know this wasn´t true, I´d seen him fall over.
Living in the middle of nowhere seems to have given these children a trustworthy and unneedy attitude (other than for chocolate). Having not seen so much wealth or objects of desire they appear unscathed by modern living. They were beautiful. The parents all stood at the edge of the square watching but not doing any more. Just observing. I wander what they were thinking. I hope not, please stop taking advantage photographing my children. We tried to take very few photos so as not to upset anyone but you never know. Its better that the children took more photos than I did.
Living in the middle of nowhere seems to have given these children a trustworthy and unneedy attitude (other than for chocolate). Having not seen so much wealth or objects of desire they appear unscathed by modern living. They were beautiful. The parents all stood at the edge of the square watching but not doing any more. Just observing. I wander what they were thinking. I hope not, please stop taking advantage photographing my children. We tried to take very few photos so as not to upset anyone but you never know. Its better that the children took more photos than I did.
stuck in the mud
LLamas are spotting grazing in the distance so our guide drives us to them to stop for lunch. He is a sweet boy, probably about 16 years old. He has a loving relationship with our cook, Lucy, who is funny even though we can´t communicate. She seems to love her job dearly. Her food is ace. And quick.
5 hours away from Tupiza we get stuck in mud in very deep mud slodge. Even though we are in the desert the ground has plenty of water in it. At night it is so cold that ice forms over the sand mountains and in the afternoon we can still see ice melting in the glittering light. However pretty this is, it doesn´t help us now. We unload our bags and chuck them on some leaves far away from the churning wheels. Over the course of half an hour, four other tour 4x4s arrive at the scene and everyone examines the situation. That´s all of the tour guides, cooks and passengers, equating to about 30 people standing there staring and coming up with new solutions as to how we escape. The wheels are almost three quarters deep on the right hand side and almost on top on the left.
7 of us are practical and bring over leaves and stones, me being slightly less practical wearing flipflops and slipping into deep pools of watered mud. We aren´t going to be able to shower for four days - what was I thinking? Jay has an interesting idea when he spots a 14ft log in the distance. We should lever the car up. So, all of the guys and some girls lift this huge log up and carry it to the car ready for lift-off. Quite a funny sight, I took photos and let them do the hard work. After all, I had collected leaves and stones ...some were heavy. Finally, after several ideas being instigated it was time to start the engine. Everyone jumps to the front of the car, knowing that the car is going to backup with the tow lead of the other 4x4. As it moves backwards, for an unknown reason, Lucy steps over the log which has been left next to the wheel, to the behind side. The wheel caught the log and it span towards her, strongly pushed by the wheel and the cooks leg is caught and she is thrown under the log. One loud yelp and her pain is over. Everyone shouts to stop the car and runs over to help her. One of the guides carries her away from the scene while her ankle dangles freely. She is placed on a less muddy spot and after our v4x4 easily gets out of the mud - well it had to with the amount of ideas - our 4x4 takes her to the next village 20 minutes away. This is even though the hospital was in Tupiza 5 hours away.
Due to the need for my seat in the back to place Lucy and a uni student nurse, Eleanor, I jump into Eleanor´s spot in the other 4x4. Unlucky for her, Jay kept trying to tell her what to do. She hated him after that and told him to get the fuck away. Who could blame her. He said to me that he had put a wrist bandage on someone before, then he told someone else he had done it three times, then he told her he had done it lots of times so she should listen to him. Puuulease. As you can see, Jay was starting to grate. Still, as there was heat in the situation I wanted to give him more time to be a better person.
5 hours away from Tupiza we get stuck in mud in very deep mud slodge. Even though we are in the desert the ground has plenty of water in it. At night it is so cold that ice forms over the sand mountains and in the afternoon we can still see ice melting in the glittering light. However pretty this is, it doesn´t help us now. We unload our bags and chuck them on some leaves far away from the churning wheels. Over the course of half an hour, four other tour 4x4s arrive at the scene and everyone examines the situation. That´s all of the tour guides, cooks and passengers, equating to about 30 people standing there staring and coming up with new solutions as to how we escape. The wheels are almost three quarters deep on the right hand side and almost on top on the left.
7 of us are practical and bring over leaves and stones, me being slightly less practical wearing flipflops and slipping into deep pools of watered mud. We aren´t going to be able to shower for four days - what was I thinking? Jay has an interesting idea when he spots a 14ft log in the distance. We should lever the car up. So, all of the guys and some girls lift this huge log up and carry it to the car ready for lift-off. Quite a funny sight, I took photos and let them do the hard work. After all, I had collected leaves and stones ...some were heavy. Finally, after several ideas being instigated it was time to start the engine. Everyone jumps to the front of the car, knowing that the car is going to backup with the tow lead of the other 4x4. As it moves backwards, for an unknown reason, Lucy steps over the log which has been left next to the wheel, to the behind side. The wheel caught the log and it span towards her, strongly pushed by the wheel and the cooks leg is caught and she is thrown under the log. One loud yelp and her pain is over. Everyone shouts to stop the car and runs over to help her. One of the guides carries her away from the scene while her ankle dangles freely. She is placed on a less muddy spot and after our v4x4 easily gets out of the mud - well it had to with the amount of ideas - our 4x4 takes her to the next village 20 minutes away. This is even though the hospital was in Tupiza 5 hours away.
Due to the need for my seat in the back to place Lucy and a uni student nurse, Eleanor, I jump into Eleanor´s spot in the other 4x4. Unlucky for her, Jay kept trying to tell her what to do. She hated him after that and told him to get the fuck away. Who could blame her. He said to me that he had put a wrist bandage on someone before, then he told someone else he had done it three times, then he told her he had done it lots of times so she should listen to him. Puuulease. As you can see, Jay was starting to grate. Still, as there was heat in the situation I wanted to give him more time to be a better person.
small mud house town
In a tiny little town we wandered around aimlessly, not knowing why we were there because our spanish combined wasn´t too hot. Only 20 to 30 families lived here. There are no obvious convienences, five to ten woman walk around slowly and a few children also walk around. The men travel away to work and come back in the evening so there were none around. The women wear the traditional dress of many colourful layers and bowler hats ontop of their plaited hair. If a girl has one plait they are available, if they have two plaits they are married. The guys whipped out their super duper cameras and I whip out my tiny convenience and shoot pictures of these interesting people. They have such curious yet unsure faces and look at cameras in a completely unposed fashion, appearing to not really acknowledge the camera at all - perfect for good photography.
Walking back towards our van a mother looks at me with a tilted head and creased eyebrows, and says aren´t you cold. Having expected Quencha, not Spanish, I was doubly surprised. Wearing soley a tshirt and not a million layers had baffled her. I said I need a tan, to which she responded that she is dark enough already. This makes me sound like I can speak spanish, I really can´t, she spoke very slowly and clearly for me. We must have looked similar to two dogs discovering a bone. We both stared at eachother for a minute with clear curiousity in eachother. My head spins, this is a kodak moment! I ask her if she minds if i take a photo of her. She lets me, still appearing completely baffled and curious as to what planet I came from. Just as I took the photo she seemed to become quite proud that I had asked her noticing her friend behind looking a little jealous. She didn´t seem to know what she was looking at when I showed her the photo on the camera screen. Gracias, adios. Chao gringo. Gringo is foreigner, supposedly it is not meant in a nasty way but rather an affectionate way. In south america it is quite normal to call someone a name by what they look like ie whitey or thin one, or tall one. This is seen as affectionate - not quite the way it would be taken in England.
Walking back towards our van a mother looks at me with a tilted head and creased eyebrows, and says aren´t you cold. Having expected Quencha, not Spanish, I was doubly surprised. Wearing soley a tshirt and not a million layers had baffled her. I said I need a tan, to which she responded that she is dark enough already. This makes me sound like I can speak spanish, I really can´t, she spoke very slowly and clearly for me. We must have looked similar to two dogs discovering a bone. We both stared at eachother for a minute with clear curiousity in eachother. My head spins, this is a kodak moment! I ask her if she minds if i take a photo of her. She lets me, still appearing completely baffled and curious as to what planet I came from. Just as I took the photo she seemed to become quite proud that I had asked her noticing her friend behind looking a little jealous. She didn´t seem to know what she was looking at when I showed her the photo on the camera screen. Gracias, adios. Chao gringo. Gringo is foreigner, supposedly it is not meant in a nasty way but rather an affectionate way. In south america it is quite normal to call someone a name by what they look like ie whitey or thin one, or tall one. This is seen as affectionate - not quite the way it would be taken in England.
Trainers and children
My trainers really stink. I´ve had them for a couple of weeks, since being in Chile and wearing them on the horse has ripped a small hole in the front. They are getting close to death row. I had to leave them outside the window of my room and hope they air out enough before we go on the tour. Otherwise the others will have to deal with them in our shared accommodations.
In Argentina I had to accustom myself to slow service and a possibility of dying before food arrives. Therefore, became quite used to arriving to restaurants way before I was hungry. This however, didn´t prepare me for Bolivian service which is somewhat sporadic. In one place you can be waiting for two hours for food, in another, your food is slopped on your plate almost before you order it and you are barely asked if you want any, let alone showed a menu. This is not easy to prepare for. How hungry should I be when I go to a restaurant? Basically, don´t be hungry and just hope you get fed, and worry later if you are hungry again or stock up on snacks. In the lonely planet recommended restaurant we were served by a 15 year old and he cooked the food I think. The pizza was actually delicious but that might have been because I was so hungry.
The walk back from the horse ride had taken us passed a strange gold head statue - to be quite a popular object throughout Bolivia - I´m still to find out why. Then we came across a mass of table football tables and a bunch of kids fanatically playing on them while their proud mothers and older brothers and sisters watched. Amazingly, here we were ignored entirely unless we caught someones eye and smiled. A lady was selling home made ice cream at the side of the road, ofcourse I tried some. I thought I was getting coconut and was pleasantly suprised by banana flavour.
In Argentina I had to accustom myself to slow service and a possibility of dying before food arrives. Therefore, became quite used to arriving to restaurants way before I was hungry. This however, didn´t prepare me for Bolivian service which is somewhat sporadic. In one place you can be waiting for two hours for food, in another, your food is slopped on your plate almost before you order it and you are barely asked if you want any, let alone showed a menu. This is not easy to prepare for. How hungry should I be when I go to a restaurant? Basically, don´t be hungry and just hope you get fed, and worry later if you are hungry again or stock up on snacks. In the lonely planet recommended restaurant we were served by a 15 year old and he cooked the food I think. The pizza was actually delicious but that might have been because I was so hungry.
The walk back from the horse ride had taken us passed a strange gold head statue - to be quite a popular object throughout Bolivia - I´m still to find out why. Then we came across a mass of table football tables and a bunch of kids fanatically playing on them while their proud mothers and older brothers and sisters watched. Amazingly, here we were ignored entirely unless we caught someones eye and smiled. A lady was selling home made ice cream at the side of the road, ofcourse I tried some. I thought I was getting coconut and was pleasantly suprised by banana flavour.
Tupiza horses then get a tour
That day the four of us, Eddie, Jay and thingy-me-bob (temporarily forgotten his name) had time to do a horse riding tour for three hours. I´m the only person who knows how to jump on a horse and go. I wanted to stay out riding next to the devil´s doorway and the red rock formations that looked like daggers poking in to the floor but the boys all had sore parts that females avoid. Our guide looks like Forturo from Never Ending Story. His horse kept bouncing and kicking, playing up so much that we lost him a few times when he galloped off uncontrollably. Once the horse ran off without him so he needed to get on thingys horse with him. Our horses just kept on going as they knew the way. I tried to catch up with the escapey horse but my horse knows what it wants, and that´s not what I want. Another tour group passed us on their way back. The tour guide caught the horse and gave the lead to me. Great. For once, my horse decided to do as I say and go back the way we came - because it thought we were going home. Tour guide with his horse and ready for action, we go. Keen to speed up, me and our guide stayed behind so the other horses wouldn´t get excited and gallop with us. When their horses were a safe distance ahead.... Woo yeah! That was exciting, give me a taste and I want more, on our return walk I didn´t hestitate when my horse wanted to go faster, I just let it pick up pace. Unfortunately it meant the other boys horses felt like going too. The horror on their faces was a picture to remember, especially on Jay´s, he is so sure of himself but he can´t deal with a bit fear. It was Eddie´s first time on a horse but he went for it and turned out to be a natural.
Later on, while Jay blew out smoke from his cigarette and drank a beer, he told me a message from our guide. He liked me and wanted me to know. That was it. End of message. Interesting. Yeah, I think that could work... a young fifteen year old and me, a Bolivian in Bolivia, me in England, no ofcourse! We simply need to marry. I´ll suggest that next time we meet... if we see eachother again. Where does he live? Mustn´t be hard to find him in this small town.
Forgetting about the young Bolivian, I focus on where to go from here. At the tour company Jay argued with the sales person about saving a few pounds for a four day salt flat tour. What a waste of half an hour, and what a headache. The tour was such a great idea that I couldn´t refuse to go on it. A 4x4 would take us passed many lagoons, hot springs, volcanic waters, flamingoes and the salt flats, ending in Uyuni, my next destination. I knew I would have to put up with Jay but figured it was worth it because the other two guys were nice and occassionally funny. Outside the hotel tour shop we met five lovely people, all about to do the same tour. As Jay had argued so much the english tour guide had opted to being their guide, not ours. So we were going to have a spanish guide instead. The five lovely people were going to be at every destination that we stopped which was quite a relief to me. Also, the guide agreed to chat to me about the land when we see eachother on the tour. How nice is he!? How could Jay be so mean and rude to him?
Later on, while Jay blew out smoke from his cigarette and drank a beer, he told me a message from our guide. He liked me and wanted me to know. That was it. End of message. Interesting. Yeah, I think that could work... a young fifteen year old and me, a Bolivian in Bolivia, me in England, no ofcourse! We simply need to marry. I´ll suggest that next time we meet... if we see eachother again. Where does he live? Mustn´t be hard to find him in this small town.
Forgetting about the young Bolivian, I focus on where to go from here. At the tour company Jay argued with the sales person about saving a few pounds for a four day salt flat tour. What a waste of half an hour, and what a headache. The tour was such a great idea that I couldn´t refuse to go on it. A 4x4 would take us passed many lagoons, hot springs, volcanic waters, flamingoes and the salt flats, ending in Uyuni, my next destination. I knew I would have to put up with Jay but figured it was worth it because the other two guys were nice and occassionally funny. Outside the hotel tour shop we met five lovely people, all about to do the same tour. As Jay had argued so much the english tour guide had opted to being their guide, not ours. So we were going to have a spanish guide instead. The five lovely people were going to be at every destination that we stopped which was quite a relief to me. Also, the guide agreed to chat to me about the land when we see eachother on the tour. How nice is he!? How could Jay be so mean and rude to him?
Arriving in Tupiza, Bolivia
Walking down the road, it feels like you´ve been sucked into a wild west movie. Dusty roads, horses and a dust covered train line that is used once a day to follow to our destination. As I´m the girl who sacrifices her guide book by ripping out the maps she needs and replacing them later, I am again, the designated map reader. All we have is the counting of roads to work out how far we are from the bus station to our hostel. Four of us had discussed at length which hostel we would go to from the guide book and finally agreed in which way I should lead the six of us. The chinese couple had decided to tag along for this bit. Walking down the road a young Bolivian offers us accomodation at the hostel across the road. We are tempted but have already made our minds up, we want to stay in the old hospital which has hospital beds - they have to be comfy! We walk through the dusty roads for a further ten minutes carrying our weighty backpacks and pretending we didn´t pack too much. Having passed several hostels and dismissed them, we find our hospital hostal - the door had a big fat lock on the door. Closed. Retracing our footsteps with a hungry manner and rumbling stomachs, it´s now 9am breakfast time, we go to one of the dismissed hostels. The lady who owns it looks ecstatic that six people want to stay the night and rushes us to our rooms. 2.50 pounds for my own room for one night! What?! That´s Bolivian prices for you.
Backpacks discarded and flipflops on, the search for breakfast begins. As expected, people curiously stare at us white folk here, almost as though we are creatures from outer space. We found a place that sold an american breakfast, that says backed beans on the menu. I´m excited, I haven´t seen baked beans in months. The breakfast came out and was dissappointed to find crunchy beans in a thin water red liquid that didn´t resemble the baked beans at home. When I get back to England the first thing I´m going to do is buy a cupboards worth of baked beans and jacket potatoes, because I miss baked potatoes too. They were once a big part of my life.
Backpacks discarded and flipflops on, the search for breakfast begins. As expected, people curiously stare at us white folk here, almost as though we are creatures from outer space. We found a place that sold an american breakfast, that says backed beans on the menu. I´m excited, I haven´t seen baked beans in months. The breakfast came out and was dissappointed to find crunchy beans in a thin water red liquid that didn´t resemble the baked beans at home. When I get back to England the first thing I´m going to do is buy a cupboards worth of baked beans and jacket potatoes, because I miss baked potatoes too. They were once a big part of my life.
a toilet stop in cafayate
I´m not hoping to confuse you but here´s something that happened to me on a tour from Salta, before the Bolivia crossing.
We were on a tour to look at seven colours in the mountains. Spectacular views, you get bored of leaning over others shoulders to take photos and just look. You can only take so many photos of mountains. We stopped at a tiny village that appeared to be surviving easily, miles from anywhere. It was definitely time to find a toilet, our guide, Fernando, told me how to get to the toilet in Spanish. I don´t believe there really was a toilet anywhere, my spanish can´t be that bad.... I hope. Anyway, I was walking along in the direction that I had been told with a bursting bladder, two minutes later I couldn´t handle the pain anymore, I had to ask a local.
A 60 or 70 year old was standing in a small dirt road next to a mud house. I asked him where the toilet was, he said there is none, I must use nature. Looking around I could see nothing but houses and people dotted around the streets, apparently doing nothing much at all. I didn´t fancy going in the street and my eyes desperately searched the landscape for somewhere, anywhere, a bush, PLEASE! The look of desperation on my face was enough for him, he told me I could use his. Are you serious? I replied (what a response to my saviour). I am serious. He led me in to the mud house next to him and directly to his bathroom. I´m not sure what he did but he went in first and shuffled around and flushed the loo before letting me in. It had not been cleaned in a very long time but who was I to complain. Looking around, he had the shower head almost directly above the toilet, a tiny window very high up and a little bit of dirt smeared on absolutely everything. That was the longest urination I have ever had, and that´s long. He must have heard it through the thin mud walls. Luckily he had toilet roll (clean, yeah!), a rarity in many places.
When I regresed into the living room which led back to the front door, he was sat at his dinner table watching tv. He leant on his lovely green and red flower patterned table cloth that related to christmas time nicely. On tv was a blue screen with a spanish word bouncing around and a fuzziness overcoming the whole screen from time to time. He had a cup of mate and asked me to stay and drink with him. It was obvious I could only understand a few words but he kept talking to me anyway, telling me about his life. I gathered that he was retired and used to work on the train line that closed down (we had just been to visit it as part of the tour). His daughter has gone traveling around South America and he lives alone.
I was grateful for his kindness and tried to give him 5 pesos. He refused it and it hung around after I repeatedly tried to give it back to him, eventually he allowed it to slip on the table and ignore it. He kept offering me mate and said I should sit. The problem was, I only had ten minutes to find a loo and get back to our tour bus. Explaining this in the same way several times, trying out several accents eventually he understood and I was excused. This gentleman let me take a photo of him. In return for the use of his toilet I would send him the photo. He wrote his address down. His house has no number. There are so few houses here that your name is enough.
Back to Bolivia.....
We were on a tour to look at seven colours in the mountains. Spectacular views, you get bored of leaning over others shoulders to take photos and just look. You can only take so many photos of mountains. We stopped at a tiny village that appeared to be surviving easily, miles from anywhere. It was definitely time to find a toilet, our guide, Fernando, told me how to get to the toilet in Spanish. I don´t believe there really was a toilet anywhere, my spanish can´t be that bad.... I hope. Anyway, I was walking along in the direction that I had been told with a bursting bladder, two minutes later I couldn´t handle the pain anymore, I had to ask a local.
A 60 or 70 year old was standing in a small dirt road next to a mud house. I asked him where the toilet was, he said there is none, I must use nature. Looking around I could see nothing but houses and people dotted around the streets, apparently doing nothing much at all. I didn´t fancy going in the street and my eyes desperately searched the landscape for somewhere, anywhere, a bush, PLEASE! The look of desperation on my face was enough for him, he told me I could use his. Are you serious? I replied (what a response to my saviour). I am serious. He led me in to the mud house next to him and directly to his bathroom. I´m not sure what he did but he went in first and shuffled around and flushed the loo before letting me in. It had not been cleaned in a very long time but who was I to complain. Looking around, he had the shower head almost directly above the toilet, a tiny window very high up and a little bit of dirt smeared on absolutely everything. That was the longest urination I have ever had, and that´s long. He must have heard it through the thin mud walls. Luckily he had toilet roll (clean, yeah!), a rarity in many places.
When I regresed into the living room which led back to the front door, he was sat at his dinner table watching tv. He leant on his lovely green and red flower patterned table cloth that related to christmas time nicely. On tv was a blue screen with a spanish word bouncing around and a fuzziness overcoming the whole screen from time to time. He had a cup of mate and asked me to stay and drink with him. It was obvious I could only understand a few words but he kept talking to me anyway, telling me about his life. I gathered that he was retired and used to work on the train line that closed down (we had just been to visit it as part of the tour). His daughter has gone traveling around South America and he lives alone.
I was grateful for his kindness and tried to give him 5 pesos. He refused it and it hung around after I repeatedly tried to give it back to him, eventually he allowed it to slip on the table and ignore it. He kept offering me mate and said I should sit. The problem was, I only had ten minutes to find a loo and get back to our tour bus. Explaining this in the same way several times, trying out several accents eventually he understood and I was excused. This gentleman let me take a photo of him. In return for the use of his toilet I would send him the photo. He wrote his address down. His house has no number. There are so few houses here that your name is enough.
Back to Bolivia.....
Tuesday 9 September 2008
entering Bolivia
At the bus station, there was Jay, waiting for the same bus as me. Two Irish guys, Eddie and Terrence talk to us both immediately, they are nervous about crossing the border. There is no true description of how to get to the border from the bus station or how to leave the Bolivian side to get to Tupiza. Our bible, the lonely planet guide, has left us to work that out. They suggest we stick together for safety and Jay seems a bit nicer today so I agree. A Chinese couple traveling from Canada join us on our venture too. We are all sharing the lower deck of our very comfortable laid back suite seats. This would change soon so we had all opted to make the most of the luxury. Dazidly getting off at the Argentinian side we all grab our bags and look around. There are no taxis or taxi ranks in sight. I try in my terrible spanish to find out where the taxis are. Around the corner. We walk all the way around the station to find them in the opposite direction to the way we had been directed. Tricker bus man, he had used pointing so we had definately understood him. Anyway, we caught taxis to the border. Where all you had to say was, I´ve been through immigration, and you could walk through to Bolivia. A river divides the countries here, we just cross a bridge and the change is noticable immediately. Women wear many layers in bright colours and bowler hats are the fashion. It suddenly seems dirtier and even at 5 in the morning there are people wandering around asking you to buy something. After asking several people for directions to the bus station to Tupiza and a fifteen minute walk with our bags later, we arrive in time to pay for the privilege to use a smelly ugly toilet and drink a cup of coffee. We buy a ticket for the bus, give the lugguage boy a tip and are asked to pay a second time to be allowed on the smelly slightly broken bus. Those who wish to sell empanadas or food of some sort are allowed on the bus at different moments and then jump back off for more if they need to. Bolivians seem to look after eachother in that way, giving eachother a chance to make some money. That was the most tasty smell good empanada that I have ever tried. Dangerously close to the edge of bumpy and dusty roads, two hours later we arrive in Tupiza. Six of us walk using my lonely planet map that I´ve ripped out of the book to find a hostel. I gave up booking hostels in advance ages ago, it´s way more exciting rocking up unannounced.
Fernando
Amid the others having a spanish conversation I spotted a word that I wanted to know. Fernando told me to go through his bag to find his spanihs - english dictionary. In his bag I came across a teach yourself german in 30 days book, japonese dictionery, french dictionery and italian dictionery, yes I just noticed I have just spelt dictionary wrong. He is almost fluent after teaching himself german for 25 days. Then I found the spanish-english dictionery, amazing. He gets his dictionaries out at any given moment and practices with any foreigners that he meets and is moving to Scotland next year for a Scottish accent. He is an inspiration in this sense.
Fernando was our tour guide again with another lovely small group. A young German girl was very sweet and fell asleep on my lap a couple of times during the journey, and when she woke up was encouraged to tell us German swear words. I was told one that I should never repeat. I repeated it once to three German girls that I met at a BBQ (as it was the only German word I knew and I wanted to impress them) luckily they laughed but again, I was told never to repeat it. It sounds like Mushi. I wont tell you what it means. Fernando recommended a restaurant to us and the two German guys, Patricia and me went to it. Amazingly, in my soup was a stretch of skin with a nipple of a pig looking straight up at me. Feeling a bit sick I couldn´t eat any more. With courage, I took a photo. The guys left for the bus station and Patricia and I went for a walk around the pretty plaza. We bumped into Fernando, he had gone to a Tango class but had no dance partner so he left. We took this opportunity to go back to his class. The teacher and 8 classmates all welcomed us with kisses and hugs. During this free lesson the teacher decided to film Fernando and me dancing for utube as we know the basic steps. God forbid if I ever see it. Fernando kept turning me to sit on his knee and before lifting me up kept trying to kiss me. Please Fernando, no! Later he walked me back to the hostel. He wanted an English girfriend so much that I agreed to be his girlfriend for five minutes until we reached the hostel, but that only included holding hands. He knew about Adrian so accepted sweetly. That was the shortest and most innocent affair in history I think. Exactly five minutes later we said goodbye. I may see him in Scotland next year. A five hour train ride seems like nothing now to visit somewhere for a day or two.
Fernando was our tour guide again with another lovely small group. A young German girl was very sweet and fell asleep on my lap a couple of times during the journey, and when she woke up was encouraged to tell us German swear words. I was told one that I should never repeat. I repeated it once to three German girls that I met at a BBQ (as it was the only German word I knew and I wanted to impress them) luckily they laughed but again, I was told never to repeat it. It sounds like Mushi. I wont tell you what it means. Fernando recommended a restaurant to us and the two German guys, Patricia and me went to it. Amazingly, in my soup was a stretch of skin with a nipple of a pig looking straight up at me. Feeling a bit sick I couldn´t eat any more. With courage, I took a photo. The guys left for the bus station and Patricia and I went for a walk around the pretty plaza. We bumped into Fernando, he had gone to a Tango class but had no dance partner so he left. We took this opportunity to go back to his class. The teacher and 8 classmates all welcomed us with kisses and hugs. During this free lesson the teacher decided to film Fernando and me dancing for utube as we know the basic steps. God forbid if I ever see it. Fernando kept turning me to sit on his knee and before lifting me up kept trying to kiss me. Please Fernando, no! Later he walked me back to the hostel. He wanted an English girfriend so much that I agreed to be his girlfriend for five minutes until we reached the hostel, but that only included holding hands. He knew about Adrian so accepted sweetly. That was the shortest and most innocent affair in history I think. Exactly five minutes later we said goodbye. I may see him in Scotland next year. A five hour train ride seems like nothing now to visit somewhere for a day or two.
Tour, tour and tour
To keep myself busy, not to think of Adrian, I went on three tours in three days in Salta. For each one I had to get up at 6.30am and was getting back in the evening between 7 and 9pm. Each one was beautiful, I highly recommend visiting Salta. The canyons, mountains of many colours and huge cactuses are all a treat. Then there was the salt flats, which were very interesting. The wind was so strong that it blew my camera case in to the white plains and in a blink I couldn´t see it any more. Most of the time was spent travelling in buses for hours at a time. Everyone in the middle aisle clambered over the person in the window seat to take photos. I was sat next to Jay, who I met in Cordoba, he told me about the Salta hostel where we were staying. Slowly, he was revealing his miserable, insecure and arrogant attitude towards people and life. Groups of us went out for dinner and had many discussions, one guy and me were talking about religion and he was describing his views on spiritualism rather than being religious. Jay said he has very strong views on religion because he knows alot about it, and he is open minded so can accept anyone´s view. Yet he ignored everyone´s comments and continued to say his view over and over again using different words. Yes, ofcourse you are open minded Jay. He decided that he absolutely hated two girls because just from looking at them he thought they were stupid and had no points of view, also one of them had looked at him in a funny way. I chatted to them, they were far from stupid and lovely people who couldn´t understand why this person was cutting them off at any opportunity. At this point I was still willing to keep giving him a chance, assuming he was tired from the previous early morning and late night.
On another day, without Jay, a small tour group of five, two people being German, the other Spanish and our hilarious tour guide went on another trip through the mountains. Our guide was trying to teach me spanish, he wrote down some words, asked me to read them out and then tolds me what they meant. Everything he got me to say was rude and everyone else, who could speak spanish was in hysterics! Even though it was rude it was still helpful because it was showing me how to construct a sentence. I showed a few people my peice of paper after this and they all cracked up. Here is an example - esta noche necesitamos muchas condones porque tengo huevos grandes. Sorry mum and dad, it means - tonight we need many condoms because I have big balls.
We were given the only icecream in the world which is made of wine and actually gets you drunk if you lick it. Delicious. We met a Madridian on a motorbike who was traveling South America on it. He was going to Uyuni and it was likely I would see him so we exchanged numbers. Unfortunately I left my phone on the next overnight bus. Another whoops.
On another day, without Jay, a small tour group of five, two people being German, the other Spanish and our hilarious tour guide went on another trip through the mountains. Our guide was trying to teach me spanish, he wrote down some words, asked me to read them out and then tolds me what they meant. Everything he got me to say was rude and everyone else, who could speak spanish was in hysterics! Even though it was rude it was still helpful because it was showing me how to construct a sentence. I showed a few people my peice of paper after this and they all cracked up. Here is an example - esta noche necesitamos muchas condones porque tengo huevos grandes. Sorry mum and dad, it means - tonight we need many condoms because I have big balls.
We were given the only icecream in the world which is made of wine and actually gets you drunk if you lick it. Delicious. We met a Madridian on a motorbike who was traveling South America on it. He was going to Uyuni and it was likely I would see him so we exchanged numbers. Unfortunately I left my phone on the next overnight bus. Another whoops.
Jonny Be Good
Walking around Cordoba I came across various musicians playing and arty buildings and lovely old architecture. In one square there was a big stage erected for six sixty-somethings singing Jonny Be Good in spanish. A small crowd had gathered, it was pretty amusing, they seemed delighted after I took a photo of them. I went into a university because I needed a wee. Eventually finding the loo and being utterly relieved I looked up to discover a large hole in the ceiling overlooked by a few windows. I wonder who was going to the toilet when that big chunk fell down, and who was watching. Outside their were several adults wearing all illuminous green jumping up and down very close to eachother, probably standing on eachothers feet, saying ´we want more´ in spanish. Camera men were filming them. They looked pretty rediculous, I liked them for that. There was another Bella Artes gallery so I had to go, I had loved the previous two that I had seen. Once again it hit my expectations, brilliant. I secretly took photos of art that I likes and when I was caught pretended I didn´t understand what they were saying and took more photos. It pays to be foreign sometimes.
I took a spanish lesson with a 23 year old from Cordoba, she was fantastic so I took a second lesson with her. As lessons can simply be conversations about lives she ended up telling me her love story. Her name is light blue in English. She taught an Arabian English for a couple of weeks and they ended up going out and enjoyed eachother´s company to the extreme that he stayed at her apartment for a further month. Thinking that they had something very special, she hoped to see him again one day, but was disappointed that he never invited her to his country. Saddess in her eyes was honest and compassionate.
In a zoo there was a photo gallery of the staff holding or feeding the animals, for tourists to purchase. Interesting idea.
I took a spanish lesson with a 23 year old from Cordoba, she was fantastic so I took a second lesson with her. As lessons can simply be conversations about lives she ended up telling me her love story. Her name is light blue in English. She taught an Arabian English for a couple of weeks and they ended up going out and enjoyed eachother´s company to the extreme that he stayed at her apartment for a further month. Thinking that they had something very special, she hoped to see him again one day, but was disappointed that he never invited her to his country. Saddess in her eyes was honest and compassionate.
In a zoo there was a photo gallery of the staff holding or feeding the animals, for tourists to purchase. Interesting idea.
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