The Salt Flats, Uyuni, Bolivia

The rumors are true: the roads here are terrible. Riding a little red wagon down a cobblestone street would be smooth sailing compared to the bumps and kicks these “roads”  have to offer. Both in the overnight bus from La Paz to Uyuni and during the countless hours spent in our trusty carriage, a 1990 Toyota Landcruiser, during our 4-day tour of Salar de Uyuni, I was taken back to my last trip to Disneyland and the antiquated “Mr. Toad´s Wild Ride,” except there were no bars (or seatbelts) to help you stay in your seat. But I can´t honestly say it wasn´t fun, at least for the first few hours.

Uyuni, as a city, is nothing to write home about, so I´ll move on. We spent a day organizing our tour plans and left early the morning after we arrived. Our first stop was the “train graveyard,” a glorified junk yard that´s only interesting because of its link to the rich natural resources of Bolivia and the amazing effort that went into exporting them in the past.

Thanks to some English tourists we were with, Michael and I had our first experience chewing coca leaves. Michael experienced a slight numbing of the cheek in which he stored the chewed leaves; I felt like I was chewing a bunch of leaves. While I don´t personally understand the national past-time of chewing coca leaves, I have to agree with Bolivia´s stance that coca leaves in the raw are a completely different substance than the cocaine that (with many chemicals and much environmental harm) can eventually be manufactured from them.

The main event was our first afternoon and evening at the Salar de Uyuni, the largest salt flat in Bolivia (and possibly the world). At this time of the year (the end of the rainy season), the salt flat is covered in 2 to 3 inches of water. When we visited, the sky was bright blue with some dynamic clouds, and the surrounding mountains were still snow-capped. Pink flamingoes dotted the landscape, both near and far. But for the slight wind, the landscape was almost perfectly reflected in the water, making the horizon difficult to distinguish. It was truly a magical, surreal world.

We stayed the night in the Playa Blanca, a hotel in the middle of the salt flat made almost entirely out of salt: salt walls, salt bed frames, salt seats, salt statutes, salt tables…  I was truly missing pepper. Both Michael and I agreed it was one of the most special places we´ve ever been. The hotel is run by a family with two energetic young boys that crawled all over the salt statutes as if they were their personal rocking-horses. What a crazy way to grow up. The Israelis gave way to the Japanese in this little oasis, making Michael and I (again) the only white folks of the group.

The sunset was a photographer´s dream that Michael took full advantage of. I went along as assistant and prop until I couldn´t take the freezing cold water and wind anymore. I cannot wait for Michael to show off his pictures, which probably won´t be until we return this summer, but just as a teaser, they are truly amazing. After the sun went down, we had a hearty communal meal of flamingo soup and quinoa, a delightfully local dinner.

The next afternoon we left the world of salt by joining a typical 3-day tour of the Bolivian altiplano (think the exact opposite of the jungle). EVERYTHING we owned was covered in salt, which turned harder than cardboard after it dried. We´re crossing our fingers that the laundry ladies in Uyuni have better luck extracting salt from our shoes and clothes than we did, or we may have to replace a fair amount of stuff.

The next three days were spent in the company of our Bolivian driver, a Dutch mother-daughter team, and two solo men from Argentina. The seven of us packed into the dilapidated landcruiser and headed South to within a few kilometers of the Bolivian-Chilean border. The driver took us to numerous lagoons, all with different bright colors including blue, green, white, and red, all with flamingos. Laguna Colorado was especially intriguing, being bright red and home to over 70,000 flamingos. We also got to see some colorful mud pots and geysers and lounge in a natural hot springs next to a blue lagoon, with the huge sky above us and 20,000-ft snow-capped mountains in the distance.

“High dessert” is one of the greatest understatements to describe this area. Most of our time was spent at an altitude equal to or higher than the highest point in the continental United States.  We even surpassed 5000 meters – roughly equal to 16,500 feet (the highest Michael and I have ever been).  Michael was especially excited about this. However, the altitude, when combined with the unfettered sun, is not a good combination for sensitive skin, as my now-bright-red nose and sun-burned legs can attest. The endless stretches of sand were periodically obstructed by huge rock formations that we constantly tried to make into different objects or animals, like you would with passing clouds. Other than these rocks, there was no shade within miles.

While there is not much vegetation in the altiplano, there is a surprising amount of animal life, including many llama and vicuna (a gazelle-like animal), along with weird rabbit-like animals with curly rat-like tails.
The altiplano is a wild, barren place – a land of true wilderness and many superlatives.  There is likely no bigger sky in the world than here.  It is a dreamscape for photographers and bird watchers.  However, Michael and I miss water and green, and will be happy to return to a place with a bit less exposure…God did not make the altiplano with human beings in mind.

We´re taking the overnight bus back to La Paz tonight, and aren´t entirely sure where we´ll go to next. Michael has been in-and-out of extreme sickness, likely caused by hours of taking pictures in the freezing temperatures of the Salar and our often less-than-fabulous meals on the road. I expect that a few days of resting in La Paz are in order, and then we´ll be off to… somewhere interesting.

The Amazon Basin, Rurrenabaque, Bolivia

Going to the Amazon Basin did not help my dislike for creepy-crawly things. Nonetheless, I´m really glad we went.

There are two options for getting from La Paz to Rurrenabaque (“Rurre” for short), the tourist hot spot of the Bolivian jungle: a 18-hour to 3-day bus, depending on how many times rivers wash out the road, or a 45-minute flight. We booked the flight. The plane held about 15 people and the interior was, at most, 4 feet high…like a miniature self-propelled rocket packed full of people.  The flight was a bit dicey, but we landed safely on the only paved stretch of road in Rurre and taxied along grass and brush to the “airport,” an open-air run-down building five minutes from town.

Rurre is home to roughly 14,000 people and is situated along the large Beni River, one of probably thousands of tributaries to the mighty Amazon. Our hostel was a little oasis with a beautiful, tropical courtyard with hammocks and a tree bursting with starfruit. The temperature was perfect, not too hot or humid, and (amazingly) mosquitoes were few and far between. We happily slept the day away.

Michael and I booked a tour of the jungle. Our tour started with a 3-hour boat ride up the Beni river, one of our highlights. Unfortunately, our group consisted of Michael, me, and 8 extremely chatty Israeli guys, so in addition to the squacking of jungle birds, roars of wild boars, screaming monkeys, and buzzing insects, our experience of the jungle also unexpectedly included incessant Hebrew.  Side note: Israelis have taken over Bolivia, at least the tourism culture. All the menus and signs are in Spanish and Hebrew (although I´m told the Hebrew signs are frequently upside down), and the tour guides often know more Hebrew than French, English, etc.

We spent three days exploring the jungle on foot, faithfully following our guide who prides himself on never getting lost. I was lost within seconds of leaving camp. It pretty much all looked the same to me: big leaves, tall trees, tons of vines of all different shapes and styles, and then a bunch of the more unusual things of nature. These included poisonous trees that leak a highly-toxic milky substance; trees with 2 to 4-inch spikes on them; “24-hour ants,” named because one bite from these gigantic insects will cause severe bodily pain for 24 hours; millions of leaf-cutter ants working their way up the trunks of large trees with leaves many times their size on their backs; “fire ants,” used as an old torture device, that live inside a tree and, responding to the smell of human flesh, can kill a person within 2 hours; huge caterpillars and centipedes of seemingly unnatural colors; monstrous-sounding pigs; and brilliant butterflies. On a night walk, Michael ate some termites which he reports have a slightly minty flavor.

It rained the entire first night and most of the next morning, which was possibly one of the most entrancing and peaceful sounds I´ve experienced. Unfortunately, we wallowed through mud the rest of the time until we were so caked in it we no longer cared. It just added to the adventure after a while.

After we escaped from the jungle, we spent one more day in Rurre lounging in our hotel-paradise. We decided to go for a hike late in the afternoon to a lookout and butterfly pond, but took a wrong turn somewhere and found ourselves hiking up a river, alongside various waterfalls, to the city´s water supply.

While we missed the butterfly pond, we took advantage of having the warm swimming pools to ourselves anyway, ending our trip on a high note. 

La Paz, Bolivia

La Paz

Llama fetus anyone? It brings good luck!

After 24 hours of traveling, Michael and I arrived safely in La Paz, Bolivia. As we descended into the airport we caught a glimpse of the beautiful mountains surrounding this city and it took our breath away. Unfortunately, by the time we got to the customs line, that breathless feeling became more permanent, less pleasant and even a tad queasy. Trying to learn Spanish and navigate a new city was a bit more challenging given our dizziness and lack of oxygen, but everyone here has been just downright pleasant and helpful. I think we're going to love this country.

I didn't appreciate what it would be like to carry a 42 lb pack (or 50 lb for Michael) uphill through narrow cobblestone streets at nearly the same elevation as the top of Mt. Rainier after living at sea level. It's definitely going to take a few days to acclimate and be ready for any longer trekking. Do you know how many sidewalks-turned-staircases there are in this city? Neither do I. But it is a lot.

La Paz has been a busy and wonderful city to explore for the last two days. For better or for worse, we arrived the morning after Carnival and all was quiet. It started to wake up again last night - I think the city is finally getting over its hangover. There's no end to food options: Italian, Indian, Mexican, Thai, or Pizza. Other than bread and fruit, I'm not sure what "Bolivian" food is, but I think we'll find out when we get to el campo (the countryside). The city is extremely clean. It's not uncommon to see government workers sweeping the sidewalks and shop-owners mopping their stores out. There are public trashcans everywhere that are actually used! I get the sense that the people are very proud of their city.

There's a strong llama presence. Well, not actual llamas, but lots of llama meat, alpaca sweaters and hats, and um... dried llama fetuses. Apparently llama fetuses bring good luck if you bury them under your house. I think I'll take my chances.

Michael and I spent the last two days exploring La Paz and talking with tour agencies about what to do. We spent a long time talking with an older climber, now manager of a trekking/climbing company. His words (paraphrased): "Bolivia is the perfect place for climbing, except there are no roads and no maps." Excellent.

We decided to find the best lookout over La Paz for sunset yesterday evening, which took us across a huge walker's bridge (over a bike path and a separate jogging path) that overlooks the valley, through a really nice playground/park where the sun came out and ice cream was aplenty, and finally up a gazillion flights of stairs to the top perch over the city, right in time for sunset. It was absolutely beautiful.  Michael and his camera got some solid quality time together at the lookout.

The city-scape's central feature, of course, was the ongoing futbol (soccer) game, which I convinced Michael we HAD to go to. We made our way there thinking we'd be in time for the second half and then have a late dinner. Hungry and unable to wait, Michael gravitated toward a delicious smelling food stand with potatoes and meat cooking. I asked the lady what kind of meat it was only to discover it was, indeed, llama heart. Michael eagerly bought one and enjoyed every last bite, although he was still chewing the meat some 20-30 minutes later (turns out llama heart is somewhat similar to gum). When did I become the picky eater?

The soccer game was packed - it was La Paz vs. Bolivia. "Viva Bolivia" was a frequent chant, along with the Wave, and children walked around with gas containers yelling "cafe caliente! - hot coffee!" I was surprised by the number of police and pets present and the lack of alcohol. Apparently pride and coffee alone bring enough enthusiasm. It was all well and good until half-time when we decided to take off and find
some dinner (about 8:30pm), only to discover the gates were locked and no one was allowed out. We stood with a mass of wailing mothers and babies crying "Queremos salir! - we want to leave!" for over half an hour wondering what on earth we had gotten ourselves into. Apparently we were expected to watch the acrobatic half-time show; about 5 minutes into the second half they finally opened one door of one exit, and we funneled ourselves out with the mass of people out, trying not to trample small children underfoot. With a sigh of relief, we found a restaurant still open and made our way to our hotel.

After exploring our various options, we've decided to ditch the cold for the jungle first. We could either take a bus that, best case scenario, would take 18 hours (more likely 3 days due to flooded roads), or a 45 minute flight to Rurrenabaque in the Amazon Basin. We opted for the flight, and we leave this afternoon. Tomorrow we begin our jungle tour and then plan to hang out a few more days in Rurrenabaque before returning to La Paz.

So far, we`re finding that Bolivia is a stunning and diverse country that has yet to feel the negative impacts of rampant tourism.  And we´re not even out of La Paz yet!

To the jungle!

Taylor and Michael

Leaving on a Jet Plane...

I just ate the last In-N-Out burger I will have for at least 4 months and I savored every bite. I'm savoring the soft bed, clean carpet, healthy animals, fresh salads, drinking tap water, and texting... just some of the things I expect to miss starting Tuesday at 6:00am when Michael and I leave most of our worldly possessions in Oregon and head off to La Paz, Bolivia, to celebrate graduating from law school and to take advantage of our youthful desire to spend 3.5 months in relative discomfort.

In December, we finished law school. In January, we studied - a lot. In Febraury, we made it through taking the Oregon bar (cross your fingers that we passed!). In early March, Michael and Matt Ellis took off for a very cold (high of -4 degrees F cold) skiing and ice climbing trip in the Canadian Rockies, while I came down to Fresno, California, for a laid back visit with my family. In two days, we will be flying from Portland, Oregon, elevation 50 feet, to La Paz, Bolivia, elevation 11,942 feet, where we will get oriented, acclimated and brush up on our Spanish for a few days before heading off to... um... somewhere. We have our tickets home (on June 21) and have no other plans yet. After the structure of law school, the freedom of having no plans is very appealing.

So, dear friends and family, please wish us safe travels! I hear it's hard to upload pictures (and we're going low tech - aka, no smartphones or computers), but we'll try to update the blog whenever we can. While I am excited to leave, I am also looking forward to coming back home again...