Right now we're at the Lima airport having flown from La Paz this morning. But wait you say, how did we end up back in Peru?! Well kiddies, settle down for the next information filled informative.

La Paz, to put it as nicely as possible, stinks. Literally. The city is in a valley surrounded by mountains and from afar looks gorgeous. Smells like hell though as I don't think anyone has any idea of car maintenance etc. From what I've seen if you buy a car that doesn't smoke, you take it back as faulty. So, leaving La Paz seemed a good idea. We'd looked at options and had decided to take the bus from La Paz to Oruro, then swing over to the train station and hitch a ride down to Uyuni- bus travel time about 4ish hours, train around 7ish, so ETA into Uyuni was around 10pm Tuesday night. We hadn't booked anything, figuring to turn up and see what was available, though did have a list of 'would like to stay here' places.

One of the quirks of Bolivia is you can't buy bus (or possibly train, depending who you talked to) tickets in advance, only on day of travel. Stupid idea and one which would cause us huge stress a few days later from Sucre. But anyway. We left the hostel at early o'clock and as promised got tickets to Oruro with no difficulty. Nick's cold had morphed into a nasty cold which, damn him, I'd caught. We both blame it on the lack of fresh air (and oxygen) of La Paz. Towards the end of the bus trip I checked with a little old lady next to us if this dusty town was indeed Oruro- it was and along with instructions on how to get to the train station, she also told us to wrap up warm and get Nick an orange juice with honey, that'd sort him out.

After said beverage we caught a taxi to the train station, about 3 hours before it was due to depart…only to find there was only 'chicken' class available-- the one where you're packed in top to tail with gringos, locals, babies and twenty thousand bags. It was cheap, we needed to get to Uyuni, so we grabbed two of the last tickets.

The train was pretty cool, soon after leaving Oruro we saw flamingos, ducks, mountains and all manner of cool things- photos will be up on facebook eventually. The windows of the train had selective obedience, often falling open at the dustiest possible time, or refusing to close the whole way. Let's say the trip was long, hell dusty, quite photogenic, and crowded. Good times.

And running late- it was just after 10.30 at night by the time we arrived in the tiny Wild West town of Uyuni. Ha, but don't let the time fool you as our luck of turning up to places right as something cultural was happening held, as we were getting out of the train there were blasts of music and shouting- turns out we'd arrived the day of Uyuni's anniversary and the locals were partying hard! Happily this meant all the restaurants and hotels and hostels were still very open, not so happily it meant there were a hell of a lot of people in town and accommodation was at a hit or miss stage. We tried 3 different hotels right on the main strip where the stages and music were happening but all were full, so carried on. Just down the main pedestrian street was the Piedra Blanca, (White Stone) hostel, which had been on our list. Not expecting much we went in to see if they had a room- any room- available. The nice man and lady at reception said there were beds free but only in dorms. Sweet! We took them for a night then asked the dangerous question of "Are there showers, hot showers?" The two just laughed at us and said of course. We were tired, filthy, starving and tired, so after chucking our stuff on our beds (quietly, as people were sleeping) braved the showers. Oh, My, Goodness. BLISS!!! The water pressure was strong, the showers were quite clean for that time of night, and best of all- stinking hot water! Hot enough that you actually had to have the cold tap on a little- never happened before (or since, yet) in all of South America!

So after our blissfully, lovely, hot, long, hot, cleansing showers we decided on food. Just outside the hostel was a pizza place, where after sitting down then having a group of 4 people come in and have them served before us, we decided to try somewhere else. Round the corner was a little old lady running a pub type joint. We checked and yup, food still being served. What we hadn't realised is that when she said she was alone, she wasn't joking, and there was a group of maybe a dozen people also eating. It was maybe half past midnight by the time our pizza arrived, though it was yummy.

We hadn't booked any Salt Plains trips figuring we'd sort it out in Uyuni itself, being cheaper. We'd done some research though, and had been entertained at the idea you should specify that you do NOT want your driver to be either hungover or still drunk, and that you do NOT want them drinking and skulling beers at the same time. Bit of an oddity that you had to tell them that, but when in Rome… We popped round the corner to a business, Red Planet, who done day trips. The lady said there was space on that days' trip and it would be 280 Bolivianos each. We kind of hummed and haahed then as along the way we'd been to another office who were selling the same trip for 150 each. The Red Planet lady must've picked up on the 'What the?!' vibes so said, if we wanted one, we could have a discount. We agreed that yes, we probably would like a discount, and how much would it be. 180 each. What the hell, we figured let's do it, so paid and signed up. The trip was due to start at 10.30 so if we could be at the office a few minutes before, that would be grand.

As with most things South American, the trip left late, close to 11.15ish. All good, our first stop was the pharmacy as one of the three other people on the trip wanted to buy some chap stick for her lips. Lovely. After that we went to the Train Cemetery where the ruins of old cabooses lay around. We were there for a while then headed 20 mins off road (maybe. It might have been on road though, I'm not too sure) to a tiny wee town called something, where the main industry was salt- bringing it in from the plains, sorting and a little processing. And souvenirs of course, so anyone who hadn't yet bought that alpaca scarf/hat/gloves/bag/rug/keyring/belt/headband/earrings could have the chance. There were also carvings made out of salt blocks which were pretty cool- was going to get some salt dice but weighed up if I really really needed them- nah.

We called in to one of the salt hotels (pricey, at around USD200/night according to the driver) to pick up the last two passengers bringing us up to seven, then headed out into the Salt Plains proper.

Very cool! After a couple hours it seemed of driving (though I can't be sure as I fell asleep) we got to Fish Island, which is an island in the middle of the Salt Plains. Apparently upteen gazillion years ago, the Salt Plains were an ocean that stretched up as far as Lake Titicaca, waaaaay in the North of Bolivia- must have been huge! Over time though and as the Cordillera pushed up, the ocean receded and dried up, leaving the salt. Fish Island doesn't have a lot of dirt on it, mostly made up of corals etc which have been fossilised. And cactuses- many many cactuses. Cacti. Something. We had lunch there early afternoon before spending an hour or so on the island. Then it was off for the fun part of the day- photos. We drove for another hourish or so (again, I fell asleep. So did Nick, blame the long travel day before and the early start that day). Our driver gave us maybe 30 mins or so to take the piccies- you know the ones I mean, with perfectly white ground leading into perfectly blue skies, no cloud, or horizon in sight. In proper gringo tradition we done the normal photos- getting picked up by someone, blowing someone off the palm of your hand, playing with the now matchbox sized jeep, fun stuff.

Eventually though we started heading back towards town getting in early evening. La Piedra Blanca had swapped us into a private room for the night so we were able to spread our stuff out and have a decent pack, before heading out. There were rumours of some bus companies which bucked the trend, the rebels, and sold tickets a day in advance. We'd decided to head North East, to Sucre- the White City of Bolivia and full of colonial style buildings. Walking past bus company counters there was one with Sucre on it's board. We skulked in and inquired if it were possible to buy 2 seats for the next morning?? The answer, yes. So, still checking every step of the way, we bought actual real tickets. For the next day. Gold dust strike. Full of success with our venture, we went and had dinner at a very cool and probably unhygienic room (no kitchen, the food was cooked on a bbq outside).

Debating what to order we ended up with two plates and shared them. One was chicken, the other- llama. That's right, we ate Bambi's Bolivian cousin. Tasted like stringy beef. Oh well.

The next day, Thursday, we got to the bus stop nice and early, me dosed up on travel sickness tablets just in case, Nick with his bottle of water. The bus was parked on the curb and with no trouble we were able to store our bags and jump on- tickets were valid and accepted.

The ride to Sucre was long- over 10 hours almost non stop. There were some local women who would jump on the bus every now and then and sell hot food (stuffed potatoes are the way of the future, guys) but overall the journey just passed as normal. We'd already booked one night in a hotel then 4 nights in a hostel, so at least had somewhere to go to when we arrived.

Our hotel that night, the Villa Antigua, was lovely- and had a bath! After checking in around 9pm and having a quick dinner at one of the local restaurant/bars (Did we know it was 'english hour' that night? If we wanted to, we'd be more than welcome sitting with a bunch of other foreign gringos and any locals, and talking English to each other!". We probably would have as it would have been useful to know things about the place, but after another day of travel just couldn't be bothered).

After getting back to the room was going to have a bath, and did. Except the hot water was nearly gone so it was a fairly lukewarm bath. Never mind.

Friday we swapped to the Wasi Masi hostel just down the road and settled in. It was great, lovely place- and had nearly hot water showers! One of the leaflets they had advertised a day trek through a Dinosaur Park then to the 'Seven Waterfalls'. Wanting to try out our hiking boots again, and given that the Inca Trail hadn't killed us, we signed on for the Sunday one.

Sunday was bright and hot, so we packed sunblock, water, cameras and wallets, and headed out. The dino park was pretty cool though perhaps based at younger school aged people rather than adults, but it was fairly amazing to see these footprints from millions of years ago for different dinosaurs which had walked there. The trek was something else. The path was generally worse than the Inca Trail and it felt like proper hiking, slippery donkey paths creeping down the mountain where you really really wouldn't want to slide off from. Towards the end of the biggest downhill bit, one of the guys did actually slip- probably less than a metre from flat ground it wouldn't have been too bad except the poor b***** landed in a thorn bush! At lunch 10 mins later his girlfriend had a go pulling some splinters out- one was pretty huge, the others were stuck and weren't moving anytime soon. After the application of salve, antiseptic creams and food, we headed off again, towards the first of the waterfalls.

Ha, waterfall. It was a stream which puddled down some rocks. In fairness though I do have to say it is the dry season at the moment, and all the rivers etc are lower than they would be if it were raining. We trekked uphill for maybe 30 more minutes before reaching the top of a hill. Our guide, Naiba had started to talk just before we got to the top, telling us about the falls. At the summit though she started laughing- the waterfall which was probably fabulous, was also a bit low- go turn your shower on super cold and you'll get an idea. But this one was still pretty cool. We climbed downhill and got to it easily before carrying on another few minutes to the third fall. This one would be the swimming pool if we wanted but the water was bloody freezing so we sat round in the sun chatting instead. Oh, did you know that the third waterfall, where we were- well, about a year ago it was known for drug addicts and alcoholics? Also robberies, especially of tourists. Eventually the local police decided to crack down so one brave soul dressed up as a tourist and came to the waterfalls. When he started to get robbed he said he was a cop, all his cop buddies (who'd been hiding around the outside of the falls) turned up, and there was a bit of a shoot out. With the first robber-type being killed. But since then it's a lot better place, hardly any crime. Credit to the police, I didn't feel unsafe once.

Turned out that night was La Paz's birthday, so Sucre was kicking her heels up in celebration (being a university town there were a lot of La Paz-ians living there. Plus any excuse for a party!). Ha, me and Nick were absolutely exhausted from the trek though, having lost all that stamina and condition from the Inca Trail. Plus it had been a hot day which doesn't help. We got back to town, had showers, stumbled out for some dinner and were probably in bed and asleep by maybe 10pm.

Speaking of hunger, it's 1pm here (body clock says 2pm) and we're both hungry so off to brave airport prices in search of lunch. I'll find one of the wifi places which works and post this, then next time will tell you alllllll about trying to get from Sucre to La Paz. Might need a bit of a drink with the telling however…