Esther's Adventure

Another bus journey to endure. Bolivia buses = crap! This time we have to get off the bus to allow it to cross the lake. It's all actually OK, just a bit of a hassle. On off, on off. It looks like the thing will sink. Lake Titicaca is beautiful, it's waters are deep crystal blue reflecting the sky. We arrive and check into a gaudy looking hotel right on the lake front. It's been recommended to us by an Aussie girl at Loki in La Paz. The three girls share a room as do the three boys. We watch a beautiful sun set on the lake whilst drinking some beers and some insipidly sweet white wine that the boys found.

I'm really bored of eating out. Theres no romance in it anymore. We go to a fish restaurant, promising us local farmed trout. Like any business in Bolivia. One place starts with a unique concept. Then a dozen other venues pop up and then generally they all go bust because they haven't enough clientele. This has happened with trout farming and restaurants around Lake Titicaca. I order trout tacos (yes, stupidly). I'm remembering 50 cent (fiddy) fish tacos in California which were good. These aren't.

I'm feeling rather fragile after La Paz so decide that Copacabana will sooth me by letting me spend some money on nice things. I buy some beautiful antique Bolivian throws and some woolly socks. Instantly I feel better. I will try to send the throws back to the UK. They're really heavy. I have now got my backpack which is at saturation point. Another day pack which I bought for fifteen quid in BA and my trusty Muji hand bag thing. Which I hate but its just so bloody practical. I bought myself a nice sew on patch in Potosi, to make it more personal. I have no way of sewing on (sensible thick Japanese fabric). So the patch lives in my moleskin notebook, slipped into the sleeve at the back.

We have booked a day trip out to Islas del Sol in the morning. Up bright and early we head for breakfast, banana sandwiches and coffee. I'm drinking loads of coffee now, never used to. Then off to the harbour to catch our boat. The boat holds about fifty people and has two small outboard motors to move it, one's broken. It officially becomes to slowest boat journey ever. As we chug out into the lake toward the islands, we all moan about how slow the journey is. If we were in a hurry, we'd be in trouble. Luckily we're all lazy b*stards travelling the world and don't even know what day of the week it is. I think we're all quite grouchy today.

After what seems like an age we arrive at the island we're heading to. It's beautiful! The lake is twinkling in the sun, and there are sandy coves to welcome us. We've paid a tour operator money for this trip back in Copacabana. However as the day progresses we pay the same amount of money again, to hiding Bolivians who pop up along the way and don't let us pass until we pay them. We walk in the bright sun light for about four hours on a path round the island. The views are stunning and I understand why the Incas worshipped the sun, there ain't much else! I see a European woman with an Indian baby who now lives here and makes jewellery to sell to tourists. Everything in Bolivia is turning to tourism, but for now it's still in the early stages. Its disorganised and unmonitored. I'm sure over the years to come its will be better organised but much more expensive and less accidental. There will be proper stalls selling drink and food, they will be a Starbucks (no!). For now we stop at a couple of dirty children who are selling waters and cokes under a sun umbrella. Once back at the ferry harbour we tuck into a delicious chip butty for lunch. Back on the chug chug boat and home. On route we discuss all the naughty things we did as children. Like garden hopping, Ouija boards, stealing parent cars, sneaking out at night (generally me getting caught). Like the time I pretended to go 'rowing' every Sunday, but was really drinking beer with boyfriend. Parents and German exchange who was staying with us decided to visit me and watch me row...Where's Esther??!

Dan and Dom whom are half the English lads we met in Chile (there were four of them, they haven't got smaller), are spotted in central Copa. We end up having a dinner with them. This time I have a yummy trout curry! Good. A few beers later, a spot of Internet and off to bed. In the morning after checking out we have that awkward time when we are homeless. We walk up the main street to try to find a cafe to sit in. Check out has varied from place to place, but generally its around 10am. Our bus isn't until 1pm so we have time to kill with our backpacks in a pile which resembles an Everest expedition. We find a suitable cafe and effectively move in. I check through my photos and notice a strange occurrence. There seem to be blacked out photos in my collection?? I panic. There is a virus on my memory stick, NO! I head up the street to copy everything onto disk. How frustrating I don't have my laptop. I miss it so much. It would have been ridiculous to drag it round South America, but utterly useful and I'm gutted I didn't bring it. Typing this bloody thing for a start. I obviously have to pay to use word which sucks. Half a hour later and the discs are burnt. Not really sure whats going on with my camera, and I think I have dust in the lens. Soon we are collected from the bus station heading to the other side of the Lake, in Peru!

The bus journey is short but frustrating. On a mini bus first (about eleven of us), then off at the border. Passports stamped etc, then a walk with bags over the border into Peruvian immigration. More stamps, and then back on another bus to Puno. Once we arrive in Puno we are pretty pooped and decide unlike the countless other times, to accept an offer of accommodation from a tout at the bus station. Normally you get off the bus and are harassed by various touts promising cheap luxury accommodation. Generally you walk past with and air of indifference, pretending to know where you're going...We're offered a free taxi ride there, and its cheap, and it promises hot water; Sold. We zoom into Puno. There are Tuck Tucks here! The hotel is fine and quite luxi actually. It may have hot water but it doesn't have heating. We're only one night here. Off for yet another Chinese, Danny's hunt for Chili Beef continues. I order five spice chicken. Mmm. I fall in love with all Peruvian knitted things. We book a bus trip to Cuzco which stops at various Inca or Colonial places along the way, we're to leave in the morning. Up early, boiling steamy shower! Simple pleasures are the best.

Hair Report: Flat out.

Five spice chicken = Orange deep fried battered chcken pieces with fushia sauce on greasy fried rice with cubed 'things' in it.
Finger puppet girl in Peru who's fluent in English.

xxxxx

We arrive at the bus station in Potosi early so that we can get some nibbles etc for the journey. The boys are sent off to purchase the journey staples. They return and we load onto the bus. I ask for my bag of cheesy wotsits and tuck in, I'm definitely addicted to the colourings. I'm about 3/4 way through, when Vikki asks for her bag, oops Danny didn't get her one!! She's furious, quite rightly so, as her cold turkey/wostit sets in...The boys have managed to spend 90 Bolivianos (6 pounds = vv expensive in Bolivia, 3 main courses at least!), on hardly any food! Moral of the story: don't send boys to do anything, they're crap.

As per usual the bus journey is fraught with problems, we stop and it appears we have to change tyres. This is done with us all still on the bus. That'll be easy to jack up? I don't think one bus journey in Bolivia goes faultlessly. We arrive in La Paz in the early hours of the morning, it's breathtaking even through the sweaty wet window. La Paz is in a crater so the city center is in the bottom, and the city sort of spreads upwards around it, favela like. It's very dramatic, so exactly like the Bolivians. There is also a brilliant snow peaked mountain on the horizon. La Paz is the highest capital in the world at over 4000m. A lot of newly arrived people get altitude sickness from flying in, and arriving at this altitude. We're now totally acclimatised, so are all fine. We've booked into a hostel called Loki Backpackers which calls its self a 'party hostel' and proves itself to be so after the week I spend here. We're all in the same dorm room again which were happy about plus... the bunk beds are well made, the mattresses are comfy AND we have duvets! Nice plump, fluffy, snugly duvets and clean brushed cotton sheets. I want to stay in bed forever and try at least once in the next week. Loki hostel is on a steep street, so although I don't get altitude sickness, I do get breathless walking up and down.

NB: Very sadly on our second night in La Paz an Australian boy whom the boys play pool with in our hostel bar, falls off a first floor balcony (central atrium of hostel), breaks his neck and dies. It happens at about 2am while we're out and about, so we only hear the news the next morning. It's the most awful thing to happen and we're all in a state of shock for a few days after. It's just so sad and so final. We all support each other and feel very lucky to be alive. I miss everyone so much at home, but its nice to be with such super new friends too. Danny, Vikki, Clare, Sean and Tommy are brilliant and we all have a good cry. We also look after Sam his friend who's been left behind, I hope he'll be able to cope with it OK. He's only 23 and obviously still in shock too. It's a sad time and one to reflect on how lucky I am to be doing this trip. I skype home and have a nice chat with the family and with Ben G, who's there by chance. We will never know exactly what happened on the night. It's presumed that he fell, but no one saw what happened. Sam had already gone to bed. We also know that the hostel cleared up the body immediately, before they called the police. The police had to be paid off. We learn all this from Jonno (see below). This disaster could have happened anywhere, but I feel very alone, and very fragile, so far away from home and in this crazy city. We're certainly not in good old blighty.

La Paz becomes a bit of a hedonist blur for me after this. We'd been so well behaved in the salt plains...no boozing at all. So La Paz is a bit crazy, especially after the death. I still cant believe it happened. There is a festival in the street on the Sunday after we arrive so we head to this and enjoy watching the spectacle and drinking beer all day. I'm so lucky to have met this group of people and it's so nice to feel safe and loved with them all. We've been dying for a good curry so in the evening we head out for a yummy cuzza! Chicken Tikka Masala ish.

Our dorm room has an en-suite bathroom attached. This is rather luxi, however it pongs a bit and the shower is never hot, or it is for about two hours a day, and these differ every day, hopeless. I go on a quest for a hot shower. I hate cold showers, I just cant do them. I'd rather go without. Finally after days of luke warmness or no shower at all, I find a downstairs one that's always hot. Gosh I miss my bathroom, I look forward to a bath so much. I haven't had one since Brendan's in Buenos Aires. I prefer showers anyway but its pain sometimes to shave legs etc standing. I long for a glorious deep hot soak in delicious aromatherapy oils.

There are rather a lot of casualties floating around Loki. We meet Jonno from Australia in the first few days. He's been in La Paz for about two months. He's stuck here and has got a job at Loki. How he keeps this up is anybodies guess. Hes out every night and never seems to sleep. He can still string a sentence together and is actually quite cool (great legs?!)...but also a warning to us all...'that could happen to you', if you don't watch out...

We enter the Loki pub quiz one night and come second! Would have come first if I'd been believed that the smurfs were created in Belgium and not Switzerland. I eat my way through about twenty BLT's at the hostel (less than a pound each!), this is the first hostel Ive stayed at where you have a tab. So everything you order at the bar is put on the tab. Rather scary when I get to the end of the week and tot it all up. We all go out together one night and end up at a club called Orange, a good boogie and ridiculous photo session. I end up at a hideous joint called Club 36 far too often, falling in with 'the wrong crowd' (I think I instigate it though, in fact I am on occasion; 'the wrong crowd').

It's decided that we will attempt to mountain bike down the world most dangerous road. This means an early night and no boozing. The other girls chicken out so it's me, Danny, Sean and Tommy. We head off early for breakfast arriving at the cafe at 7am, we order breakfast in plenty of time (40 mins), then in typical Bolivian fashion nothing arrives and we have to leave. In the last minute my breakfast arrives and so does the boys, but with crucial bits like bread missing to theirs...so they cant even make a takeaway. We leave the money on the table but don't pay for the orange juices which didn't arrive. We are then collected from the cafe by Gravity Assisted and walk out to the bus, the waitress comes to find us on the bus demanding money. We explain to her that we couldn't eat everything because it was late and there was no oj. She drops her head scuttles off again. The ride is one of the best things Ive ever done, and how I didn't fly off into the abyss, ie off the edge, is a mystery. But suffice to say I was very careful and did it slowly. Beat Danny though! ...You start at 4500m and end up at 1200m. From freezing high mountain to jungle, its brilliant and scary. The road is only about 1.5 cars width and the drop off the edge is instant death (well after a cool free fall). Along the way you see crosses marking the spots where unlucky cyclists met their creator. It's madness really, but the views are staggering. Some parts of the road are in line with streams which cascade over the road and shower you while you pass beneath. The first 40km are on tarmac, then the road turns into gravel. Ive never really ridden a mountain bike, but the suspension and breaks are incredible. I'm careful no to break too hard for fear of flying over the handlebars. I'm devastated that I didn't bring my camera (warned against it). Once at the bottom we enjoy a nice lunch and a hot shower. Then its back into the van and we drive up the road we've just ridden down, much more scary than being on the bike. We buy some celebratory beers gawp at the ridiculous geography of this road (www.gravitybolivia.com). On route home and in the dark, Danny wees out the window whilst the bus is driving.

Peru is coming up next so we head to Lake Titicaca and Copacobana. We get the bus which has no tread on its tyres (see photo on facebook).

The HAIR REPORT: very flat and lanky, mostly covered in hat.

Ram Jam, Orange, Mongos, Club 36...
San Pedro Prison (riot, so no go)
Wild Rover. Not as good as Loki.
The laundry not being clean again.
Jenga at 7am in Club 36.
Broken nose.
Champions League. Man U victory.
The pizza that's so big it has to go sideways through the door.
The hole I fell in.
Did I ever say that my Chinese sign on my necklace means 'long life'?...
ALEX! (a new one, this will make M chuckle)
The Aussie twats.

xxxxxxxx

So its back to Potosi. Which has some mines that we want to see. We're now all acclimatised with the altitude so don't feel so out of breath as before. We spend a little extra cash getting a better bus, which we're all glad about. We're booked into the Kola Den which is where we tried to get in last time, but couldn't. We have a six bed dorm room to ourselves, lovely. Potosi is very hustle bustle and is full of school kids and things happening, I like it. It's cold but the sun is shining and eveything looks crisp.

We haven't cooked so far in Bolivia. Theres no point. It's mega cheap and with six of us its just a faff to cook anything decent, kitchen tranklements are crap. I'm surviving on empanadas for breakfast, which are like Cornish pastie things baked or fried, with meat (questionable?) or cheese, there's a variation in each country (I've mentioned them before). They generally spill their contents over you, and wreck your clean jeans or dribble on your gortex shoes. Lunch is either brunch or burger or sanger or big pack of giant cheesy wotsits and oreo cookies and Coke. Then dinner a hotch potch of what we dream about eating, like Chinese! mmm, but just not quite right in Bolivia (dirty dirty Chinese). Oh my god my diet is shite. I long for Brazilian acai and fruit juices. I long for Thiagos flat and Thiago. Oh hell I long for my friends and my family and a big bag of spinach with poached salmon and salsa verde.

Speaking of clean clothes...not that anything is really clean, it's decided that after the salt flats everything desperately needs to go to the laundry. My whole backpack is filthy so I take it to be washed. This results in Vikki and I waring a ridiculous outfit for the day (only clean cloths we have)... we look like Armenian refugees. Then we go to collect the 'clean clothes', I swear mine aren't that much cleaner. Cold water wash with no powder I assume. My socks pack flat again so thats the main thing sorted.

We book the mine tour the following day. The mine tour is possibly the most depressing day out Ive ever encountered. So upsetting. We pile into a mini bus from the hostel which takes us to the mining part of Potosi and for us to be dressed in our mining outfits. A waterproof rubberish suit, hard hat and head torch. We're also made to buy some bandannas to go over our mouths. Then off to the mining shop to get some dynamite. We also buy a bag of coca leaves which we stuff into out cheeks (you chew the leaves with some catalyst, in our case quinoa ash)...we look like chip monks. After a while my cheek and teeth go a bit numb! Ha it works. Um it tastes fowl though and I have green teeth and fowl juice in my mouth, sexy. We get back on the bus and head to the mine entrance. The mine is situated in the mountain that overlooks Potosi. Apparently the mountain is like a giant Swiss cheese it has so many tunnels and holes in it. It used to deliver silver back in the days of the conquistadors. It's actually very important historically. The silver from Potosi made Europe wealthy. Now there is no silver left, but they still mine tin and other minerals from the mine. I feel like Ive stepped back in to the dark ages. Those scenes from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. We walk into the mine tunnel and I'm immediately overcome by the shit in the air (arsenic, asbestos?), which the head torch highlights. The bandannas are really going to help us, not breathe this shit in (?). I spend then next two hours crawling on hands and knees in dirty, dark, stinky tunnels. I see young men lugging ten ton broken waggons on fucked rails, it's horrible and I wow never to moan about work again. It's crazy that they work in conditions like this. I hate it and an immensely glad to get the fuck out of there. Once back in the fresh air, we play with the dynamite and make bombs. Bolivia hey, health and safety...

We meet a juggler and his girlfriend on the tour, and its with them we head out later that evening, for a dirty Chinese. Us girls also head off for a wander round the markets. Its the end of the day so we miss most of the hustle and bustle. But I still manage to find disgusting goose necks and lungs? Also a cow face, which has had its skin taken off, but the eyes and wet black nose remain intact. I tried taking a photo but was threatened by a fierce Boliviano woman. Then in a skip outside the market on the way to the Chinese, cow horns with skully, brainy bits still attached thrown in and in a pile. YUK! I think cheese empanadas from now on. God who'd eat meat?! Thers no neat vaccum packed stuff in Bolivia.

We're all rather knackered from all the activities we've been up to so its decided to have a DVD day at the hostel. We watch Rainman which is so brilliant, Id forgotten. Then later on in the evening we watch The Pianist. Only the resident night watchman behind reception, who we've named trench foot, his feet smell like poo (honestly). Hes a moody git and reeks of booze as well, revolting. So when he keeps trying to shut down our film watching, which is peaceful and disturbing no one. We block the door so he cant get in! Such bad behavior! but reasonable under the circumstances. The next day we head to La Paz, we're all very excited...

Hair report: mostly flat with fly away tendencies, smidgen oily on top.

Our phrases:
There's no 'I' in team amigo.
You never see an old man eating a twix.
You can never have enough hats.
Theres no town like your own, but when in Rome...

Tommy's lost pillow, it falls off the top bunk onto me every night.
What this old thing?!
The hair ball in the shower, preposterously large.

xxxx

Dear diario,

I have to pack my backpack and leave Rio. Obviously I'm dead excited about
where I'm off to, but still I'm sad. Thiago takes me out for a nice lunch
and then we head back to the flat to play with his new toy. An Apple tower
power mac thing with bells and whistles. I'm glad he has a new toy to amuse
himself and take away the thought of me going (he's obviously devastated
that I'm off??!). We say goodbyes and then he has to go. I'm left there in
his flat all alone. I pack up, and have to throw the key back into the flat
once Ive locked the door from the outside. I panic that Ive left something
behind and now can't get back in... I realise later, I did; my heart.

Into a taxi and off to the airport. A flight to Bolivia on Gol airways, very
luxurious. A ridiculous flight which stops three times before I reach
Bolivia. Santa Cruz to be exact. Not even sure exactly where it is. I arrive
rather wearily at 3am and get another taxi (paid in US dollars) to Jodanga
hostel. Where I hope Vikki and Danny are staying, although there was still
no word from them before I left. I get there and luckily get a bed. Top
bunk, in an 8 bed dorm with some American girls, who get up really early and
are really noisy. I haven't really slept anyway due to the shock of being on
the road again and sharing a dorm room with lots of bodies and being bloody
cold too. Ive gone from balmy Rio to fucking freezing. I drag myself out of
bed at about 9am and try to find D and V. They are here! It's nice and sunny
out in the day here, so the temp is pleasant. We sort ourselves out.
Deciding to leave for Sucre that evening in the 16.30 bus. Then off for some
lunch, Irish stew and dumplings?! Bolivia is weird. We grab our bags back at
the hostel and get going.

Our first Bolivian bus journey is OK, but the bus is dirty and old. Anything you
touch is covered in a thick layer of dust. I sit next to Vikki at the back. The bus
stops in the dead of night for a wee pause. We bundle off and are welcomed by
a dirty, smelly non loo with no paper and no sink. Back on the bus and I sit there
for a while awake. We're high up on some mountain pass and the bus is rocking
from side to side rather graphically, it's pitch black and a trippy experience.
We arrive in Sucre early and it's freezing again. Until the sun is fully out and blazing,
Bolivia is damn cold. We find a hostel where there are two free rooms, Vikki and I
share, it's the first night she's spent apart from Danny in 9 months! We
put on some extra layers and head off to a cafe for some grub. I fancy a
lager (?), but am told its too early (10.30am). We all order chili con carne,
because of bus lag we're not really sure what time it is, and tummies do the
choosing. Delicious. At 12 I'm allowed a lager.

Sucre is a beautiful town and is called Ciudad Blanca because all the
colonial buildings in its center are painted white. We enjoy a nice
afternoon chilling and mooching about. Its in Sucre that I'm introduced to
my new obsession: all things knitted. Oh my god... gloves, hats, scarves,
blankets, its all amazing and beautiful. When we return to the hostel later
and discover that there is no agua calliente (hot water), I'm glad for my new hat and
scarf and gloves. Vikki and I bed down for a freezing night. The boys are
watching football in the morning so its up early and to the cafe again for
the TV. Its also now decided that we will head to Potosi next and then
straight on the Uyuni to see the salt flats. There is another football match
(champions league, man u or and earlier one???) on the following Sunday,
and we will need to be back form the salt flats before that.
Our next week is therefore planned around football (I mention this now because
of a situation later). It's is our intention to jump in a cab for the four hour journey
to Potosi. We are now six as we have met up with Clare and Sean, so we
might be able to afford it. We leisurely head toward to bus station in the early
afternoon to see about a fare. As soon as we jump out of the cab taking us there,
we are accosted by a very indigent woman who is keen to get us on her bus.
As soon as she has the whiff of us wanting to go to Potosi she's dangled the carrot with costs and
journey time being halved. We cant really say no. Within about 10 mins we're
all sitting on her bus bound for Potosi. We soon realize that: A, she was a
big fat lier, and: B, you get what you pay for. We have a clapped out bus
(which breaks down), we have the back seat (which means its like being on
the big dipper), the bus is filthy and smells like spring onions for seven
hours!! We bond over how much we hate it. What doesn't kill you makes you
stronger. Ive never been so happy to get off a bus. I feel high, actually
that'll be because Potosi is 4070m above sea level. We're all exhausted,
dirty, and now we cant breathe. Danny and Tommy head to a food stand they saw
up the hill to buy us all a chip butty. Our first choice of hostel is full
so we find another and end up in a 70s suite attic room. Its freezing and
everything you do renders you breathless, but we're glad to be together and
after a few games of the shithead league (we've got a league book and
everything). We head to bed, for a completely sleepless night.

I get up knackered and we head off to catch a bus to Uyuni. We go to the bus station
and barter with a woman about a bus. Again promises of speed and comfort are
realised later to be fibs. Another painful journey this time so dusty that
we all feel like we have asthma the following day. We arrive in Uyuni very
late hoping that we can still book a salt flat tour for the following day.
Luckily some tour agents as are still open . So for 80 USD we get a 3
night, 4 day tour with all expenses paid for (not bad). Were also shown to a
hotel which we're promised has agua calliente. Its freezing in Uyni which is a
little like a ghost town, I keep expecting to see tumble weed blowing though
it. We go out for a dinner in a freezing restaurant, I'm now so cold to the
bone that it would take a miracle (and an electric blanket) to warm me
up. Our hotel may have hot water but it certainly doesn't have heating.
Vikki and I have a room at the front of the hotel which has a massive window
to the road, i.e no insulation. I put my icicle body into bed and have
another freezing night where I don't sleep, because I'm shivering the whole
time. I wake up and have gone blue. Finally after some brekkie, we're
in the land cruiser, our home for the next four days. Pedro is the driver
and Jacqueline his wife the cook. They don't speak any English and and our
Spanish is crap, how will this work??

The salt flats (flat, one massive dried up lake) is incredible.
It's like being on on mars or the moon. The lunar landscapes, the blazing sun,
the freezing nights. It's another world. Hard on the body though, and my ingrained
tan which had been intensified while in Rio, literally sees the salt and dry air and jumps
off my skin. I have crocodile skin legs and cracked sore lips. But my hair
is straight again! Its the best thing ever, I cant believe how frizzy it gets
in Brazil. The first day is spent taking silly shots on the salt (see facebook) we even
manage a mini rave outside the land cruiser which is videoed by Perdo who
thinks were all totally crazy. We stay the night at a salt hotel on the edge
of the flats. Danny tells us the story of the fart tape. This is a
dictaphone kept on the mantle piece at his flat. Every time you need to fart
you go to the dictaphone and start recording: you say your name, the time and the
date and then fart into the micro phone. Between fits of giggles and more
silly stories including Tommy's dog who accidentally eats leftover vindlaoo
and ends up projecticle pooing all over the curtains. We evesdrop on
another table next to us. They're all discussing the American elections and
the different merits and problems with the different opponents, we're
giggling about farts and poo. Will I ever grow up? (Dont answer that).
We have to brush teeth with bottled water as there are no taps. Clare is about to take a
swig when she notices what looks like an ear plug floating in the water?! We
have another fit of giggles and gag, earplug?? Its not an earplug but Sean's malaria tablet
which obviously didn't get swallowed. We head to bed. I wake with a
stiff back and a mouth like the salt flats. After brekkie we pack up the
cruiser and head off to see more spectacular scenery. We see some live
volcanoes and Fish Island which is covered in cool cacti and has fossilised
coral reefs. Bolivia gets stranger by the day. We end up at another hostel
in the evening, and slightly warmer night, but still very cold.
The next day we stop for lunch next to a green lake with red soil. The girls all go for a
wee, and due to adverse wind conditions (don't want our wee blowing onto us)
we have to moonie the boys. Luckily no one has a camera with a good zoom lens.
Our last night on the salt flats is at yet another hostel in another strange deserted cluster of
buildings, which obviously rely solely on the tourist industry. This is the
coldest night yet (-10) and after dinner Tommy and I go outside star gazing. We're
at 5000m above sea level and the stars in the sky go from horizon to horizon.
There is not one bit of sky that's un-glittery. I'm spellbound, no starstruck. I count three
shooting stars and make three wishes. We turn in for the night. We're all in
one room again and I fall asleep chucking about Danny's brothers band called
DAMP (the P is for Paul), Sean's rap ballad he's made on the music player on
his mobile and the rats or mice running about outside our window.
I wake at 4.30am with great difficulty, I'm cocooned. I get up, dress and wait for the others to stir.
They're all still in bed and take an age to creep into action. Finally we're
all packed up and sitting in the landy. We set off in the dark and because the front
window is steamed up and Pedro can't really see, he drives over a large meteor like rock.
The car is wedged on it. We all have to get out and wait while another land
cruiser tries to push us off it bumper to bumper. That doesn't work,
so Pedro had to jack the car up. It's dark and freezing, and we do star jumps
to keep warm. The car finally moves and we're free. Off we go towards flamingos and
hot springs. We're looking forward to the hot springs, as none of us has had a
shower for three days. We see some flamingos, albeit miles away (tiny ones!). Then
straight to the hot springs which we jump into. Bliss and rather smelly
(sulphur). We meet some fellow gringos in the pool with beards, god I hate
traveller beards. Danny and Tommy get out first and head to the breakfast
hut. We've been told it's mesa 4 (table 4). I join them after about 10
mins...I'm just pouring myself some coffee when I see a crazed looking
Boliviano woman hurtling towards me with murder in her eyes. She going
mental at us. I look up and see "mesa 9" written on the sign above the table.
We're on the wrong table. T and D have already eaten half the
pancakes in front of them and drunken most or the yogurt drink. Honestly though, you've
never seen anything like it, they go completely ballistic. The first Boliviano woman gets others involved, and there are literally plaits and plait tassels flying, and big skits being hiked up, it's all so dramatic. It's like watching a panto. As Vikki and I try to placate them, by suggesting that all we need do is swap our breakfast pancakes for the eaten ones etc. T and D are oblivious, and continue to eat the wrong breakfast, Its so hard not to laugh. But they've started so they might as well finish. This sends the women into near epileptic levels... After it's all over (we simply swap the pancakes and yogurt drink from our table)...we sit at mesa 4 and marvel at what just occurred. Incredible
really, Bolivia is bonkers. I think we've been banished from the hot springs forever,
but I'm not sure, because my Spanish is crap. Back in the landy and off to the
bubbling lava geysers. Then finally a five hour drive home back to Uyuni.

It's good to back to civilisation and even better to go out for delicious pizza. Its been speculated I could be the best pizza I ever had?...I awake in the morning and try to charge my ipod for the upcoming journey to La Paz. There doesn't seem to be any power. In fact it transpires that there is no power anywhere in Uyuni. Therefore NO TV OR CABLE. Therefore NO FOOTBALL! The boys are inconsolable. I think it's quite funny, the whole trip has been planned around this bloody match and now we cant see it!...We all sit in a cafe, it's 10am on Sunday the match has started and there's still no power. We wait and age for a breakfast to appear, cooked on a gas stove apparently?... It comes in dribs and drabs and doesn't come at all in some cases. The cafe also seems to be staffed by children, all very odd. Then finally at half time, the TV miraculously turns on! We're saved, there is mass rejoicing and mass elation. The games on and the boys are happy, so I'm also happy. On Monday morning with rather sore heads (must still be the altitude?!) we leave Uyuni and head to Potosi again.

The Hair Report - Mostly flat, some undulation below, dry ends.

Hats placed precariously.
Wotsits (big Bolivian ones)
Tangerines.
Nearly break leg in loo (hidden step).
Llama lunch.
Alan "yeah" after every sentence.
Too much funky house on Ipod.
The mummies, whats the story??! (we'll never know)
Double funny (its so funny its Double Funny)

xxx

ps sorry it's late, a dog ate the first draught...