THE BOLIVIAN DIARY

I spent longer in Bolivia than any other country on the trip because it is my favorite by far.  The five weeks flew by and it is pretty impossible to write a journal that sums up the immense range of landscapes and experiences that it offers...but here goes.

Having had to split with Mikey in Rio I was crossing my first border as a lone ranger.  It's now possible to take tourist trains from the Bolivian border to Santa Cruz that seals you away in a movie and meal bubble.  Luckily I hit the regional train, often called the Death Train but during dry season the 18 hours were ok, although their description of first class left me looking back to scivvy class and trying to spot the difference.  The train was one of the best experiences of the trip.  Every villager from old ladies to small boys would run down selling all sorts of snacks (usally fried; how Bolivians aren't rivalling the USA in the fat race is a mystery) or just to watch and wave as we chugged past.  Although the scenery wasn`t anything special the huge and strange rock formations shadowed by the setting sun accross the dessert was something to remember, a boy thrown across my legs by his Dad to be sick out of the window wasn´t.

Santa Cruz was a gentle introduction to Bolivian life.  The most beautiful Cathedral and plaza, the cheapest and best barbequed food and fresh juices and an empty hammock hostel where you can be as lazy as in the plaza.  A few days was enough though and having taken a taxi to the bus station without knowing where to go I jumped into a bus going to Bueno Vista, jump off point for Amboro NP.  The little village is another relaxed and pretty place, tourist ready but barely a gringo.  That would have made for expensive tours as a solo and after much frustration at unhelpful NP offices I ended up with the friendliest locals (my old lady hostel owner and an English speaking bank clerk) who found me a local guide.  The discussion in the bank arranging wake up calls and all the stuff (tent, sleeping bag) I needed being the most unprepared of backpackers caused alot of laughs from the customers.  Unfortunately there was no need for a wake up as I spent the night with the worst food poisoning but having hit the chemist I went and hoped.  The two days with my guide and his brother were special.  We hiked through lowland forest, tiny villages and through park control to get into the stunning park where we walked knee and hip deep down rivers, the slippy rocks proving too much for my crappy trainers over and over again.  They thought it was funny but my legs did well not snapping.  My guides knew the park perfectly and we discovered hidden waterfalls, canyons and cliffs covered in greenery.  We camped in the most tranquil place between cliff faces and with a crystal river.  We stargazed and talked as best we could in broken Spanish, football players and band names was about as far as we got but they were great.  The 40 km walk over two days was well worth it and despite the lack of travel buddies it was great to be somewhere off the track (I saw only 3 travellers in the whole park).

After 15 hours down a bumpy dirt road I got to the de facto capital, Sucre.  I checked out the largest cretacious period dinosaur site in the world.  5,000 prints but we were joking that the factory workers knocked up the fossils to get a bit of cash.  I hung out in the travellers bar and met some great people.  I finally found friends going my way and took the bus with English and Israli girls to Potosi.  We hit our first roadblock in Bolivia and after almost going back to Sucre we walked through the miners playing football, listening to music and having a great time letting off dynomite, but then any time away from Cerro Rico mine - Potosi's lifeblood - is a blessing.  After more walking with huge packs, taxis and micros we finally hit the beautiful colonial center and checked into the cool Koala Den hostal.  We went with their Koala tours to the mine.  They use ex miner, English speaking guides who made the trip fascinating and as safe as possible.  We signed our lives away, "you are in as much danger as the miners from cave ins", alrighty!  We crawled through thick dust filled tunnels, slid and climbed our way down slides and ladders down to the 4th floor.  We watched the whole process of mineral extraction and the deeper we went the more haunted the miners faces became.  Down there they snached our gifts of coca leaves and pop (which they exist on up to 20 hours a day down there, often 7 days a week for good pay that only comes with discovery of minerals) with barely a word.  The miners know they most likely have 10 years to live down there with the toxins.  Over 8 million people have died over the centuries, which at one time made Potosi the 3rd richest city in the World, but the miners are proud as hell carrying on fmaily traditions.  They are macho to the extreme, one bragged of 14 children and women are banned as bad luck bearers.  We were deperate to get out of the tight, dusty shafts after 2 hours and being in the highest city in the World it was a hard day but more than worth it.

Inwoo from Korea had been on the tour and we became great friends over the next 3 weeks having the best craic.  We took another nightmare bus to Uyuni where we had a stinking nappy filled baby crawling all over us, met Nico, a Canadian guy, who was almost busted at a police checkpoint with copius amounts of pot but he survived and came on our tour and we would later randomly bump into each other in the oasis down the Colca Canyon in Peru!

Uyuni is a ghost town.  Wide roads and nothingness, except office upon office selling tours to the salar.  The three day tour was something else, from the huge white salt plains to barron dessert, from wind shaped rock formations to the deep red, green and spearmint lakes covered with thousands of pink flamingoes.  It could have been another planet.  We kept things down to earth though; hackysack at every stop and some great times with the group.  Having dropped the four others off at the Chilean border me and Inwoo headed back, we picked up three Bolvian hitchers (it isn't possible for transport to not be full for more than 5 minutes).  They earned their keep though helping to change a flat tire and syphon petrol into our bust up 4x4.  We finally made it though and after another superb Minuteman Pizza ("The first rule of Minuteman, Don't talk about Minuteman!"), whose owner lives in Uyuni the poor man, we took the overnight bus to La Paz.

La Paz is a city and a half.  As usual I loved a place that everyone else was down on, they would say three days is enough but I ended up there for ten days during three stints. 

To be continued....