Last of Peru and the Start of Bolivia
La Paz,
Bolivia
Sunday, June 24, 2007
We decided to stay in Cusco for an extra day as June 21st is Inti Rhymi a major festival in these here parts. The streets are lined with Cusco flags. Which for those of you have forgotten are just like the Gay rainbow flag.
We booked our tickets on the 10 hour train to Puno and lake Titicaca, after which I banged my head twice. Taking my tally to 17.
Before we left Cusco we decided it'd be a good idea to kill some time and send some post cards. Tori had the bright idea of doing it in the main square. Lovely back drop. Alas the vermin was around, not only the pigeons but the locals as well. I ask you. I´m writing postcards do I need to buy any?NO! I´m wearing sandals do I need a shoe shine? NO! Do I need some gay finger Puppets? NO I´m not 4 any more dickhead. I´m clearly a scabby back packer do you think I honestly require a load of watercolours. NO I FUCKING DON´T, Big fucking wow you´ve got one leg, doesn´t mean I´m going to give you any of my hard earned western cash go and grow yourself a new one you poor third world arsehole and brush your teeth, and if another person offers me a massage I think I´m going to shoot someone.
Inti Rhymi way a day full of fun. We watched as many people dressed in the most absurd outfits threw themselves around like wallies to the delight of the on looking masses. What pleased me most about the so called festival of the sun was the large dollop of irony splashed all over in, mostly in the shape of grey clouds and a large smattering of rain it was enough to make one feel the Gods were not smiling upon these people and a sacrifice might be in order.... bring out the virgin.
We got our train from Cusco headed for Puno, it left right on time, which was nice. It was a 5 star service with complimentary Pisco sours and a fantastic looking lunch. It was also a damn sight more pleasant than spending hours on a bus. Admittedly it would have been 4 less hours on the bus as the trains top speed over the 300 mile stretch was 36 miles per hour.
In our carriage were 2 Japs and 2 Dutch people. I was so horrified by how hideously unattractive the Dutch girl was I felt compelled to take a picture. The boy was hardly an oil painting either so I decided they should be called "The Ugly Dutchlings". What you can't see in the picture are the worst set of dreads in the history of stupid white people really thinking they are cool by getting dreads. It's not cool. Except Jo, he has cool dreads.
After stuffing ourselves suitably with the delights put in front of us we settled into a few games of cards an listened to some music. Alas out joy was interrupted by a whole crew of Peruvian musicians. I don't kow if you've ever heard Peruvian music but it is poor. Remember the mid 90's and the massive boom of Pan Pipe Dreams (1 -4) well it's like that with a little bit of guitar and drums with a bunch of mens wailing in the back ground. It's the sort of music that makes you want to go against everything your told on a train and shove your head out of the window hoping another train will pass and take it off. I think my favourite part was when the "drummer" visited the table and said "tips for the music".
I've got a few tips for you buddy I thought 1. Play some decent music. 2. Fuck off before I shove that drum right up your hairy Peruvian arse. Being the nice guy I am though I gritted my teeth and just gave them an insulting tip instead.
We later ploughed on through a town spare parts for selling seemingly everything right by the train tracks. There was one stall devoted entirely to nuts and bolts. The guy must have had millions. I can't imagine setting that stool out every day can be much fun.
We arrived bang on time which was a big surprise and settled down to our hostel. Booking a trip to the floating Island of the Uros, an Island on Lake Titicaca made entirely from reeds. Inter breading weirdos.
It was Glastonbury day today, with New Cassettes gracing one of the worlds most famous festivals. I searched for a long time to see if there was any way I could watch this monumental event alas there wasn't and I had to settle for the online picture immediately after the gig and an interview on the BBC. This was however still enough to make me well up with pride in my Tommy.
We were picked up from our hotel for our tour of the Uros islands. As entering the bus I did the obligatory bash of the head on my way to sitting down.
We arrived at out boat stop and were shipped over to the group of 40 or so small islands (about 5 families each) made completely from reeds. It was a strange experience with each member of each family on each island looking almost exactly alike. It was like walking through Corby but more reedy and a little better developed.
It was a fascinating experience being taken from island to island on a boat completely made from reeds and seeing the houses, benches and kitchens made from reeds. It's even a staple part of their diet, along with fish and ducks that they catch with strange rods and a blow gun respectively.
I also discovered on this tour I had to reassess my opinion on Americans. I've now met 10 who aren't complete dickheads in fact they are really rather nice. So I have decided the Americans who have passports and visit places like Peru (not only Machu Picchu) are generally not too bad. Not to say there aren't a lot of idiots from America travelling but I tend to avoid them. It was a shame we were put in a group with 3 complete idiots from the states as they have tarred the reputation (along with 90% of them) of the whole nation.
After visiting the islands we returned to sleep as our bus to Bolivia left at 7am the next day.
We were at our bus in plenty of time and were driven to the Copacobana a town on the huge lake Titikaka. Just before we arrived at the border the bus decided it'd be a great idea to run over one of the many stray dogs, cor it made a hell of a thud and the girls at the front really did let out a scream, pussies.
On the border we were pulled aside by the Peruvian police and searched when they discovered we had very little money they just let us go. It was a fairly hair experience. As I entered the office the biggest officer inquired "Espanyol o Ingles"
"Ingles" I responded
At this point they continued to speak in Spanish and point at their pockets indicating me to empty mine. I did, they found nothing, obviously, decided I wasn't worth trying to force into a bribe of £3 and let me go only to try Tori, she also had almost nothing so they let her go bribe free.
When we got to Copacobana we checked into a lonely planet recommended hostel. I must say now it was only 70p a night, but.
The covers were unwashed, the windows were almost non existent, the plaster on the walls was barely surviving and the toilets required a self flush system whereby you added water to the bowl to get rid of the nastyness and the shower they promised was so well hidden that it wasn't only Tori and I who couldn't find it but none of the other guests were any the wiser as to where it might be.. As I said previously though it was 70p a night and we were only in Copacobana for a night so we just lived with it.
We took a quick peddle out onto the lake and returned 5 minutes early as it was absolutely brass monkeys and very difficult to navigate. Fun none the less.
The evening took us to a peak on the lake to watch the sunset which, after taking the most taxing route possible through brambles, up rocks and extremely unsteady ground, the sunset was absolutely terrible, too much cloud. We decided it was time for dinner and for 30 Bolivianos (2 pounds) we got ourselves a nice fat peppered steak each. It was truly delightful. We also reached a rather scary decision. Despite all the fun we are having we are both finding ourselves missing work and are going to head to either Brazil (Rio/Sao Paulo) or Colombia (Bogota) depending on which is cheapest after our stint here in Bolivia which will take us from Copacobana, to La Paz where we will ride the worlds most dangerous road. Then we will go onto the salt flats of Uyuni and finally to Sucre where we will decide on a flight and the future of our travels. We did want to leave the decision to the toss of a coin but with 3 cities it would've been pretty difficult.
Our bus ride to La Paz was fairly uneventful apart from the really fun crossing of Lake Titikaka. We were all ordered off the bus onto a shitty little motor boat and sped across the lake in a very haphazard fashion. The first idicator that this would be an interesting ride was when our one toothed captain started the motor by removing its cover and starting it with a rope. The petrol fumes were soothing as the waves threw the thing all over the place. I loved it. The people who got wet on the back weren't so keen neither was Tori. The funnier thing for me was watching our bus being ferried across the lake on some kind of make shift barge almost being thrown in every time a wave even brushed against it. What I was most miffed about however was the fact all the natives got to pay less for the bus (by 30p) and got to ride the bus across the lake therefore avoiding the 1.5 Boliviano fee to cross. That's about 10p.
We were dropped in the wrong place by our tour company in an attempt to get us to stay at their hostel. Obviously I took this very much to heart and felt like i was being ripped off and jumped into a taxi to take us to a hostel close to the prison I'd read about earlier in our trip. I was intent on getting a visit.
Our hostel was fairly average so we decided to move to one with a kitchen at our disposal.
One thing I do have to say about Bolivia aside from it's amazing natural beauty and extremely cheap everything, is they have a lot of fantastic looking veg. Some pink speckled potato's and some lovely looking carrots. All I need to do now is get over the fact they are being sold straight from a dirty roadside by an even dirtier Bolivian women.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=30441&l=02ac4&id=774575150
The Worlds Most Dangerous Road.
Sound Track: Bon Jovi Livin' on a Prayer.
We survived the "Worlds Most Dangerous Road" but I'll get to that shortly.
I previously said we were moving hostel so we had a kitchen at our disposal. We now have a kitchen but I've not yet seen it as Bolivia lacks supermarkets and any food available elsewhere looks so off key I'd be hard pushed to feed it to a dog. Hey ho if we're eating in restaurants it's costing less than £2 for both of us. This hostel we have so cleverly moved into is in the Barbers and Hairdressers district of town. I thought I was sick of people trying to sell me finger puppets and give me a massage. Boy that is nothing on these c*nts I can't leave the hostel without being told I need a hair cut. Yes this may be true I am looking rather rugged especially with my ginger beard now coming into view but honestly do you really think I'm going to let any of those ridiculous looking spics go anywhere near my precious hair... er no. These people have got pictures of the Beatles in the windows of their shops and Leo Di Caprio pre Romeo and Juliet. If that isn't enough to go on these idiots telling me they should be allowed to put a pair of scissors near my hair have the most ridiculously mid 90's curtains and they really do think they're cool. Not to mention their fucking moustaches deary me they look like a cross between that dude from 'Allo 'Allo and PJ and/ or Duncan hardly fucking Nicky Clarke. Aside from the positioning of the hostel it's ok, that said we're moving to Loki, a hostel with WIFI so I can download some more music.
What's my evaluation of La Paz so far I hear you ask, obviously you aren't asking that but I felt that would lead me on nicely to my next point. My opinion of La Paz. Despite the horrendous poverty I really like it here. Two things really stand out about this place. There are so many shoe shine boys it is untrue what really freaks me out about them though is they walk around with their faces completely covered, now I know they're fucking ugly but is it really necessary to make yourself look like a thief or a terrorist. The only reason I know they aren't a terrorist is the fact they couldn't afford to buy the utensils required to be one. The other thing that really stands out is the amount of blind people stumbling around. Now from this I have deduced they either really like wanking or they've been playing with dog shit their whole lives. La Paz is great though and well worth a visit, they have markets selling bootleg DVD's and CD's. I bought the complete 4th series of Oz for 50 Bolivianos that's 18 episodes and 1 hour each for the princely sum of £3. It's all so cheap, that's the really great thing about visiting poor countries and this is by far the poorest. La Paz it's self is short of breathtaking sites (aside the mountains just outside the city) it is however a city that takes your breath away, literally. At almost 4000m above sea level there is very little oxygen and a walk to the internet café about 35m away really takes it out of you. Going for a piss in the night knackers me out. I thought after a month at altitude I'd be used to it by now but I'm really not. I'm just glad I'm super fit.
Now the Worlds Most Dangerous Road. This is something I'd recommend to any one you get awesome bike and great guides. Allen Timbrell I reckon you'd like it the most. Before we left we all met in a small cafe in the centre of La Paz and who do we see sitting in the café chomping on a pancake, none other than Liam. He just popped up again and he was in our group. I knew it was going to be a fun day. You start the ride at 4725m above sea level where it's pretty cold. You have 22ks on tarmac so you can used to the bikes then you hit the dirt track for 44ks. It's one of the most exhilarating experiences I've ever had have. After about 10 minutes on the tarmac (reaching speeds of up to 60kph) it started to rain like really rain which scared me a little as we were about to hit the dirt track which is about 3m wide and there is a 400m sheer drop to one side which over 1000 people have fallen off to their death. Just 2 months ago a (stupid) Israeli fella who clearly wasn't listening to his guide decided to mess around playing bumper cars with his equally intelligent countryman on the most dangerous stretch of road and fell 400m to his death. 1-0 Palestine.
Much to my delight and surprise I didn't fall off and die I also didn't fall of my bike at all. Not one member of a 14 strong group did, which is unheard of according to our guide. We also beat the other group by over an hour much to the disgust of Christian the guide for the other, smaller, supposedly faster group. There's not a lot more I can say about the ride without boring the tits off you it's something you need to do yourself. I'll just quickly mention the riding through waterfalls and horrendous pains in the hands from clinging on for dear life the whole way down.
When we reached the bottom we went to a small animal reserve with loads of cute monkeys and birds. It also had the cutest animal I've ever seen in my whole life. A little Jaguar cub. It was like the cutest kitten in the world x10000. I don't think it needs to be said Tori Dolittle was in her pri(mate) here. Playing with all the animals fooling around. We were also given our free t-shirt congratulating us on completing the ride. I was naturally the only person to not only be given the wrong size and colour I was also given the wrong fucking sex. Nice one dickheads, how many 6 ft 4 girls do you know called Harry. We sat down to our "all you can eat" buffet, which ran out long before I'd eaten all I could even the monkeys were having a go at it. It was also all you can eat for the sand flies who feasted on my scrawny little arms. I regretted eating this buffet. As about 3 hours into our 5.5 hour journey home I started feeling very ill. So ill in fact i had to lean out of the window and give the bus a new paint job a beautiful buffet coloured paint job. I was really quite ill and only just managed to make it up the hill to out hostel where I fell into bed. Tori looked after me until about 20 minutes later when she was hit by the same bug. Probably monkey jizz or something. Which left us both disgustingly ill all night with frequent visits to the latrine to be, and I apologise in advance for being so graphic, sick out of both ends which is a difficult feat to achieve when the sink is a bit too far away and you can end up getting yourself a little messy, which I of course managed to do very well. That was by far my worst night sleep of all time. What compounded the terrible sleep was the fact all the aches of the ride really came to light along with the itchyness of all the fucking sand fly bites. I wasn't in the best of moods when I finally got up to go and exchange my t-shirt and when approached by a friendly hairdresser, my third of the day, within a minute of leaving the hostel. He kindly asked me to go into his shop, I picked up one of his curtains, he used so much gel it all stuck together, looked him in the eyes laughed, shook my head and walked off disgusted that he even dear suggest such a thing. He was clearly offended so I was happy to get my own back a little. I bought a new computer game, it didn't work. Never mind I guess I'll learn not to spend a pound on a game for the PC. I was however very annoyed as I really wanted to play it all night while my travel buddy slept off the bug that I was so hardcore I had already kicked the fucker into touch. Instead I decided to scratch my bites all night long, what a joy.
Peace
H
Uyuni
Sound track: Jimi Hendrix All Along The Watch Tower
We moved to a hostel called Loki under the recommendation of Liam and Al. It was a nice hostel, with WIFI so we stayed for a few nights. The first of which we went out and got absolutely smashed only to be woken the next day by one of those dickheads who brings their guitar travelling with them. Why do they do it. These are the backpackers I want shot. He started playing at about 09:00 but he wasn't happy playing the classic round the camp fire I'm shit at guitar "Save Tonight" by Eagle Eyed Cherry, no. He decided he was clearly talented enough to play Layla and All along the watch tower. Now I'm no musician but if I was I wouldn't even attempt to play such tunes which are obviously beyond my ability. I think Jimi would have been turning in his grave. This guy was really murdering it so much so he was putting me off my game (of cribbage). Eric Clapton would have been on the verge of committing a serious crime if he'd heard what this incompetent prick was doing to his most famous song. What made matters worse was some other idiots were clapping and encouraging this buffoon. I was less than a happy bunny.
Our last 2 days in La Paz passed without any more such events and we decided to part from Al and move onto Uyuni, so we booked our bus.
The bus to Uyuni left at 21:00, or so they said. We arrived at the bus terminal to find no bus and be instructed 4 blocks down the street to the Todo Turismo (the company) office. Now 4 blocks doesn't sound very far but when you've packed all your worldly belongings into 2 rucksacks reaching a combined weight of 31kgs 4 blocks is like a marathon. We arrived at the office in plenty of time to catch the bus, checked our bags and went up to the office to check ourselves. After doing so we went out to get on the bus as it was now 20:50. As we were getting on the bus we heard a small voice form behind prompting us to stop. Karma had finally caught up with me and I have Mum and dad to thank for this. Many years ago I participated in my fair share of Minors strikes standing at the front chanting to the Tory shits to keep their hands off our pits, and for Major, Major, Major, Out , Out, Out. At the time I was just glad to be allowed to swear freely, with hindsight I am glad I did this as it shaped my morals. The mines are still shut though. That's one thing I've learnt about protesting. It makes a good point but it is very rarely listened to. Take the Iraq war for example over 2 million people marched against that, Blair still went. Yank arse licking wank stain.
In Bolivia however they know how to protest and get things done. The Minors instead of marching in the streets of the capital decided to block all of the roads going in and out of the capital by putting rocks on the road and beating the shit out of anyone that tried to move them. So we were told we'd have to wait until the morning to catch out bus. For once I wasn't really that annoyed. Thankfully a whole handful of Germans were and went on and on at the poor waiter (each tourist bus has a waiter to deliver whatever they decided to call food on each journey.) Eventually the waiter cracked and said they had found, what he described as, a short cut. At first I thought he was saying: "who wants chocolate?" Bonus I thought for once we're getting some kind of compensation. What he was saying however was "who wants short cut?" Which wasn't exactly what I wanted but none the less I was happy with the offer. We left at 22:00 just 1 hour after the schedualed time of departure.
Now I think the waiters understanding of English was very good but was clearly lacking in many places. An example of this is lies in his understanding of short cut. If short cut means a route which will add 3 hours and a massive amount of discomfort to a journey, then he was bang on the money. In my 23 years of speaking the English language however I always thought a short cut lessened the time of a journey. Ah well at least we were leaving that night and would hopefully make it to Uyuni in time to see our Dutch friend Jasper.
The first hour of the journey was blissful we were given what I think was Chicken and Mash for dinner, there was very little evidence it was in fact Chicken and the mash was more of a slurry. So I guess you could say we had white "meat" and slurry for our dinner. It was flavourless and cold but it filled a hole. I've decided to stop caring about what I eat here now because it's all so bad if I didn't eat it I'd starve. After the main course we were given a chocolate flavoured bar, which again was vial but I ate it anyway, I had no idea how long this supposed 9 hour journey was going to take so I realised I needed all the supplies I could get.
Shortly after dinner we reached the "short cut". It was dark outside so I couldn't see the "road" but I sure as hell could feel it. I don't think it was actually a road what our bus was travelling along but maybe a dried up river bed. I've never heard any vehicle make such horrendous noises. It would stop every 3 meters to go round another pile of rocks then chug off again. It felt like we were riding in a 4x4 with one side of the bus raised up higher than the other. What amazed me was the fact some people were sleeping through this. I didn't dare go to sleep and fastened my seat belt and braced myself for the worst instead. If anyone was going to die I was damn sure it wasn't going to be me. I didn't die. Thankfully. At around 03:00 we got off the road to Hades and the lights came up. Surely we hadn't arrived, surely this wasn't really a magical short cut and we hadn't already reached Uyuni. No harry don't be silly the bus was now apparently destroyed due to the terrible conditions of the road and we would have to change, our new bus was waiting for us just ahead. So we got off the bus to see them repairing the flat tyre and prepared to get on the other bus. It was difficult however as there were already about 50 bewildered people on this other bus. These people started to file off and get on our bus. By this point I was a little miffed, our previous bus, by Bolivian standards was rather plush with leg room and semi reclining chairs, ok a tyre was destroyed and the suspensions probably ruined forever but it was fairly comfortable and I was curious as to why we had to get on a grotty old bus with no leg room and chairs that reclined about 2 inches and these lucky sods got our bus. These questions were never answered. What made things worse was the fact our apparently broken bus left about 20 minutes before ours did.
It took a further 6.5 hours but we eventually made it to Uyuni. In time to get to Colque tours and book our eagerly anticipated tour of Salar de Uyuni and the surrounding areas. I had been excited about this tour for a long time. We had time get some breakfast. I'm not sure if you've ever tried scrambled eggs with raw onions but the night after a curry, a bus ride and the inability to have a wash this was defiantly a bad idea with the prospect of 3 days in a 4x4 with 6 other people. 2 Frenchies, 2 Mexicans and a Bolivian (and Tori of course)
Our tour started with Octavio (our very dirty Bolivian "guide") driving us to a train cemetery, I actually thought this place was pretty cool. The trains were only 50 years old but the place it self looked great. After the train cemetery Octavio took us to a small town made of salt. Everything was made of salt. The houses, the beds, the toilets, EVERYTHING. There were people selling salt as trays and candle stick holders. I popped into a salt room to check out the postcards when I was confronted with a women demanding 5 b/s as I had apparently wondered into the museum. I was pretty pissed off that I had to pay this but in Bolivia you always have to pay for everything. People want money for nothing.
After leaving Saltville we headed for the Salar. A vast expanse of 12000 square km's of salt. It's where an old lake dried up and left 10 billion tons of salt behind. It was a pretty spectacular sight to behold to be honest but on that can be taken in quite easily and the need to stand around taking hundreds of pictures wasn't so great. I did anyway as the rest of our group was faffing, something I'd have to get used to.
We made it to the Inka Wasi Island, which was previously an Island in the middle of the lake, it is now an island in the middle of the Salar. Inka Wasi was a pretty crazy place with loads of Cacti and buildings in the middle of this vast expanse of white. We had our lunch there. I had seen a separate tour group eating their freshly cooked steak and eggs and was pretty excited about lunch. Then it arrived, cold pasta, a peeled tomato, cold potato's, cucumber and cold massively over cooked meat, of some description. This was by far and away the worst meal I have ever eaten in my entire life. It was shocking. After forcing down this atrocity we went on to drive through the Salar stopping on the odd occasion for people to take pictures and the guide to show his lack of inhibition about going to the toilet in front of everyone. Something we would later discover was a habit very prevalent in Bolivian society, some kind of sick voyeuristic pleasure I guess.
After the Salar we made our way onto our hostel, which was partially made from salt, and set up for the evening. Dinner was ok, hot at least and there were working showers there as well, admittedly mine was so cold it felt like i had ingested my testicles afterwards but it was a shower and I needed it after the night before on that horrible bus.
We awoke at 07:00 the next morning and left the Salar behind in order to look at some volcano's and lagoons.
Before we reached anything of any interest we stopped in a "town" called San Juan, it consisted of 3 adobe hoses, a semi-frozen pond with 2 ducks, a see-saw and 2 football goals about 100 yards apart. We stayed here for over an hour, why? Oh because our car was broken, nothing important mind just the cap off the oil. Great, no oil and no cap. So what does Octavio do to fix it he pulls out a kitchen knife and a piece of wood and begins to whittle it down. After he discovered he had not whittled it down quite enough he asked Lauren (France) to pass him the hammer. I'm no mechanic bit I'm sure a hammer is not the first tool one would reach for in a crisis. So he bashed away for a little while and then we were off. In fairness to the guy this improvised bung worked well enough until we reached out stop that night. There was a stage when we all had to get out as the 4x4 had to ascend some rocks but other than that it was all good.
At the first lagoon we were told we were going to eat lunch, so naturally, before preparing our food Octavio took himself about 15m's away and crouched down to curl off a turd. I'm not sure why we couldn't have driven another 5 minutes to the next lagoon where there were toilets and tables but apparently he had to have his shit right then. After which he got to preparing our Tuna and avocado and rice with some stale rolls. Another disgrace in the name of food. I expect a little more when I've paid £45 for my tour.
At about 17:00 we arrived at our "hostel" for the evening. It was on Lago Colorado a national park apparently so we obviously had to pay to enter. Fucking national park my arse. It was a shit hole and they just took money because they could, there was no evidence where it might have gone.
Now our hostel was possibly the worse excuse for a habitation I've seen in my life. The beds felt like I was sleeping on the solid stone floor and the sheets were covered in gaffer tape for some reason. The windows had holes in, which is really quite bad when it is -20 at night.
We were called for our food. Oh my days how they made the tomato sauce taste like they did I don't know, it really was what evil must taste like and the spaghetti was over cooked. Fucking idiots.
It was decided, by the fucking Mexicans, that we would get up at 05:00 the next day so they had time to get back and catch their bus to Potosí.
Why then were me Tori and the Frenchies both in the car 20 minutes before they had hauled their stupid arses out of bed. Wankers.
We saw some geezers which was nice, cold and smelly but nice. When we arrived at the hot baths they decided to stay in the car and do their fucking make up. It was at this point I gave them new names. J- Lo 9not because she was an attractive latino because she was a moany, prissy shit face) and crow nose. Instead of getting into the hot baths which were apparently 34 degrees I wanted to stay dry as it was still -15 outside the baths. The dickheads had annoyed me enormously by now though and it was only 07:30, so I jumped in the front seat and proceeded to move around and shake as much as I could in order to disturb the making up of J-Lo. It worked, and she got seriously pissed off. This cheered me up somewhat. At the hot baths there were some toilets. Now I don't mind paying up to 1 Boliviano to use a toilet if if it clean, these toilets however were 3 b/s which is about 20p. No I flat out refuse to pay that much to take a piss. I don't think it's really on to be making money out of calls of nature. So I started walking up into the hills when a guy said the bano was over there and pointed to the toilet. "Tres Bolivianos esta muy caro senor" (20p is too expensive) I protested but he again pointed.
"El Bano esta aqui" he pointed to the bathroom again. So I walked up to the bathroom and pissed up against the wall in protest not paying and smiling at the man who had demanded I go to the toilet to piss.
We dropped the Frenchies off at Lago blanco as they were climbing a mountain the next morning and get back in the 4x4 for our 7 hour trip back to Uyuni, about 3 words were exchanged between us and the fucking Mexicans for the whole journey, which included picking up a strange man and driving him back to his home in Uyuni. This only made the journey more uncomfortable. We also stopped in another town like San Juan for some rather average tasting food, which was nice.
We arrived back in Uyuni to discover Jasper had already left for Potosí so we decided to go on to Sucre the next morning. We watched Columbia beating the USA and enjoyed it a lot that night and got a good sleep before out 10 hours journey the next day.
It was a public bus we caught to Sucre which chugged its way up hills and wheezed it's way down sounding like a 70 yr old smoker with some kind of lung disease. We only broke down once which was better than average apparently.
We made it to Sucre and settled into a rather nice hostel and prepared ourselves for the next few days of exploring what is described as the most western of the Bolivian cities, which excited me.
Much Love
Hxx
Rio or Bust
Soundtrack: The Thrills Santa Cruz (You're not that far)
Sucre is a nice city. As expressed previously I was excited because it was more "Western" than all other cities in the poorest country in South America, Bolivia. What made Sucre extra special was the fact we would soon be reunited with Phillipe, only now we decided he deserved the respect of his real name as he was with his lady friend, the lovely Weineke, and we called him Jasper, most of the time. As soon as we'd met we went to the Dutch Bar which would soon become our regular haunt. It was called Joy Ride and served delights such as (I'm sorry for the spelling Jasper) Kroketten, Bitter Ballen and Bossche Bol. Naturally we tried all of them. My favourite was the Bitter Ballen. Like meat balls but hotter and nicer and served with Dutch mustard. We got drunk that night, not just a little bit but very very drunk. Tori and the Dutch shared 4 bottles of the finest Bolivian Rosé I just drank fairly strong Cuba Libre's. After Joy Ride we made our way to a club recommended to us by 2 Dannys from Birmingham. It was called Stigma. When we arrived there were 6 people in the club. We were cursing the Dannys when they arrived. I hadn't been in a club that empty since I was 16 and I'd go nice and early so the bouncers would let me in. There's one thing worse than a Bolivian club playing Bolivian music, I thought, and that's a Bolivian club Playing Bolivian music with no people in it. I was mistaken as the club deteriorated when people got there as it made it harder to get to the toilet, that was literally the only difference we just stood in the same place drinking the same drinks getting progressively more drunk as the night went on. Which it did until 03:30 when we decided it was defiantly time to go home as we'd planned to go to a market the next day at 07:30. well I woke up at 07:30 as planned although I realised soon I wouldn't be going to the market as I staggered butt naked to the gents down the hall, only to find it locked so I used next door, the ladies obviously. Half way through my violent tirade of vomit I decided I was desperate to have a piss. It was a difficult task, crouching, vomiting and then trying desperately not to piss all over the floor, I managed it, just, lucky for me I am very tall and have been great at squatting my whole life so I just raised a couple of inches and managed to just get it in the toilet. This whole time I'd neglected to close the door. Thank the lord nobody walked past, that would have been proper shame. Then came the real bad news, this new latrine I was so unaccustomed to had a very strange flush which in my still massively drunken state was I'm afraid impossible to operate. I cleaned it off the back of the toilet seat but some poor lass would have been confronted with a very sicky toilet first thing in the morning. For that I'm sorry. When I went back to bed, I was sick again only this time instead of inflicting it upon an unsuspecting victim I thrust the bin in the direction of Tori's head, not an act she appreciated greatly.
We met Jasper and Weineke again in the afternoon and decided to take it easy that night and just watch football as it was the Quarter Finals of the Copa America. We watched Mexico destroy Paraguay 6-0 whilst at Joy Ride and decided we really needed to find a new place to go the second game of the day. Argentina Vs Peru. We scoured the town but nowhere was showing it. Imagine in England the Euro Championship Q finals are on and you can't find a place showing it. We came close to admitting defeat until a pesky shoe shine boy told us we could watch the game on a big screen if we went to the Lonely Planet recommended Hong Kong III a Chinese "restaurant". We entered the place and decided immediately we weren't going to eat there. That's the problem with the Lonely Planet they don't take into consideration the price, I don't think any of the reviewers have ever eaten there. The smell made me want to vomit again and the food looked like re-fried Alsation. The big screen that had previously been professed by the Shoe Shine boy was a wide screen TV. Something special for Bolivia I guess. We asked if we could just order drinks, they said it would be fine, so we ordered a jug of fresh lemonade big enough for an entire football team between Tori and I. Only I don't think it had ever seen a lemon, just lots of water and sugar, a water for big J and an enormous bottle of Peach juice for Weineke. We had these drink for the whole match. The first half was a disappointing bore, 0-0. The second however was much more lively after the introduction of Tevez and the final score was 4-0. Setting up a semi final with Mexico.
Our next day had been planned since we arrived we were going to take the Dino bus to see the largest palaeontological site in the whole world. Before I say how disgustingly disappointing this site was I'll first say I didn't want to go. Not one bit. Tori convinced me it'd be a once in a life time opportunity. It certainly was that. The day started badly as once we'd go on the Dino bus. Which is in fact a cattle truck and the most interesting spectacle of the day. Half way to the dino park we were told we couldn't go as the storms the night before had left the park in need of cleaning. Now we would have to wait until 12:00. Ohh the anticipation was killing me we ate some breakfast at joyride and got ready for the day ahead. We made it at the second attempt. We arrived at the Dino park in the centre of a quarry for the cement factory, not the most glamorous of settings. We were greeted with a sign that read: Nationals B/s 10 Non Nationals B/s 30. Racist fuckers. Thankfully that's less than it sounds. It's only £2 but for an attraction in Bolivia that's expensive so big things were expected. We were ushered into a little room where we were told we were going to watch a 15 minute film about the park. Bollocks, a bit of an episode of, the biggest pile of shite ever shown to be a factual show to the British public, Walking with Dinosaurs. We watched a group if Diplodicus, or however the fuck you spell it, walking around some jungle. 2 reasons this was pointless. Reason 1 the footprints we were about to be marvelled by were from the "Crutatios" (again apologies for my terrible spelling) period and the film was about dinosaurs from the "Jurassic" ( I know how to spell that one) Pointelss reason 2. As stated before the beats of the past we were apparently viewing were Diplodicus. They were never in this area of the world according to archaeologists. So we were off to a flyer. Then we waited for our tour guide Matthew, apparently. He had terrible breath so Jasper and I decided to steer clear. We made our way up to the Park which cost almost nigh on a Million dollars, which was obvious as the park was reasonably attractive. We were told the dinosaurs in the park were the ones we'd see footprints of (well 2 of them we would) so we were shown 15 or so scale models of dinosaurs and our guide proceeded to tell us what we could easily have read on the signs around the park. Jasper an I were bored so we talked like naughty school boys. Finally we got to the main attraction and boy was it a let down. Probably the biggest let down since Henry went for 3 and a half quid after promising to be a gunner for life. So here came the once in a lifetime opportunity. A wall with a few 80cm imprints on it half a kilometre away. It was ok though they gave use some binoculars to use for only B/s 2. The only problem with these binoculars was they seem to have been made for those with eyes on the side of their head as the distance between the eyes was almost a full head space. They were also very difficult These are defiantly the footprints of Dinosaurs our guide told us. What was his justification?? Someone who was in Jurassic had been to the sight and seen them. Wow some dickhead from a 90's film told me. Now there's someone we can trust. They were also on a vertical wall of a quarry used by a cement factory. They could easily have been put on by clever workers. No I'll accept they probably are dino prints they just aren't impressive in the slightest. Matthew told us these prints might never have been discovered if the workers hadn't found magnesium in the rocks. Well that's really lucky isn't it, they could have actually spent that 1 million dollars on something useful like helping with the fact the country is 77% illiterate or maybe feeding some of the thousands of beggars on the Bolivian street, but no thankfully they found some magnesium in rock and now every stupid fucking tourist who passes through Sucre is sucked into the same trap. We got back on the dino truck and went to Joy Ride to play on our laptops with free wifi.
That night Tori convinced our Dutch buddies to have pizza with us. We went to a nice Pizzeria near our hostel where Tori had eaten on our first night in Sucre. The food was good until I decided to have a desert pizza. It had jumped out at Jasper on the menu. Tomato sauce, cheese, ham, pineapple, peach, cherry and chocolate. Now this sounded truly vial but I have taken to eating things I don't know or like the sound of recently so what the fuck I thought give it a shot. It was wrong so wrong in fact I thought that it was probably a joke pizza until we noticed the couple behind us eating it. That's when I realised people in Bolivia are just plain weird. I never ever want a pizza with Chocolate on it again.
It was our last night with the Dutch so we decided to go back to Joy Ride for a farewell drink and said our goodbyes.
These goodbyes we later found to be premature as we saw them at the airport the next day. We were off to Santa Cruz, they were off to La Paz. Both flights were left on time. For Bolivia. Neither was on the run way bay take off time, there were no planes anywhere in the whole air field, just a lot of bags. So we sat and waited. Their flight was called, ours wasn't. Why wasn't our flight called, oh because the flight to Santa Cruz had to wait until the flight from La Paz returned with our plane. So there we were left no friends and no plane. It was ok though as 1.5 hours later the plane arrived and we were off to Santa Cruz.
We didn't do much in Santa Cruz. We went to a few cafés played on WIFI. One evening we went to Café 24, an Argy coffee shop, with our room mates from the hostel who were Brazilian, we decided to support Brazil for the Copa Semi final. The rest of the coffee shop were on the side of UR A GAY. Half way through the first half the lights went out at the stadium, it seem Chavez hasn't been putting his money into the meter. Anyway. After the brief interlude the game continued. Brazil took the lead and seemed like running away with it but Poor goal keeping led to UR A GAY equalising. The same happened in the second half. In the Copa there's no messing about it went straight to penalties, which thankfully for us, Brazil won. We left happy and good a good nights sleep ready for our 23 hour death train the next day.
We took the death train but went first class. Never have I seen such a horrendously organised station. There was an hour long queue to get on the train. It set off at 16:30 as promised and before the sun had set Tori and I saw 4 men doing Poo's out in the open. Honestly guys I know it costs to take a shit in this country but couldn't you find somewhere a little more private. I felt violated.
The films we got that night were helpful for our sleeping, first we got 28 days later, then Ed Geins. Both horrific horror films, I felt sorry for the hoards of kids on the train.
We arrived early in the border town of Bolivia and were taken across the border by a very nice group of lads in a pick up truck. Sadly we picked up a tight fisted Israeli along the way, only answering to the stereotype and expecting a free ride. Fucking Shylock.
