The Foreigner

This is a three day tour that crosses a tremendous variety of environments surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. There are deserts of dirt, sand, and salt; abundant wildlife and areas devoid of any wildlife; and a series of lagoons which have their own unique colors. It is an area of extremes: the largest salt flat, the most lithium, and the driest desert. Sometimes there are roads to follow and sometimes there are none. At times, it seems we are the only people on earth and then suddenly, we are among 20 other 4-wheel drive vehicles filled with camera-carrying tourists. Come along and see some of the sights!

Snoring...cold trips to the bathroom...it's 5am before we know it. We have agreed to get up early and skip breakfast so that we can get on the road and beat the rest of the tour groups to the first few sites. It is so dark that I can't imagine how Reynaldo (our guide/driver) can even find his way. We are all dozing ff when we suddenly come to a stop. Reynaldo nods to the right. There is a geyser shooting into the air. I don.t bother to take a picture-- it's dark and I don't want to leave the little warmth offered by being in the vehicle. It appears that most everyone else feels the same so it is a surprise when the young French kid (who is not asleep for once) jumps out. We wait for him to get back in after a few minutes, but instead, he starts walking toward the fumeroles in the distance. It becomes obvious he is not coming back and after several minutes we can no longer see him. The fumeroles are our next stop, so Reynaldo starts the vehicle and heads that direction.

Again, I choose not to get out. Reynaldo seems disappointed, so I take a few pictures through the windshield. It's still pretty dark and d__n cold! Besides, morning has never been my best time. The French guys seem to be of the same mind. The French father is fussing because it is too dark for good pictures (though the sun is now coming up) and the French mother is fussing because her son is not to be seen. They both get out, but after awhile they are back. Their son is still missing. By now, we should be moving on. Instead, we are turning around and going back to the geyser in search of the kid. We have now lost the advantage that we sacrificed for...we could have had another hour of sleep or eaten breakfast. We were one of three tour groups, now we are surrounded by at least a dozen other vehicles and more headlights are coming down the road. Reynaldo and I exchange meaningful glances. Eventually, we find the kid and hit the road...eating the billowing dust of the caravan which is now ahead of us.

By the time we come to the thermal hot springs the masses have already arrived ahead of us. The two French guys quickly strip. put on their bathing suits and jump in. The French family is nowhere in sight. My two buddies are calling out to me and waving at me to come in...it is still cold and I am still in slow motion, but eventually, I change and go in. Once I am in, I don't want to leave the hot water. I am the last one to arrive at our table for breakfast. For the rest of the day, I have trouble staying awake as we pass more volcanoes, more vicuñas and llamas and stop to see the Desierto de Salvador Dali. It is a large desert with absolutely nothing-- except for a row of odd rock structures looking like a row of statues on display. Once again, we have no road to follow. We cross over streams with no bridges. The town where we were to have have lunch is unable to accommodate us for some reason so we keep going. Later we stop at another group of larger rock structures that seem to have identifiable shapes as people and animals. The highlight of the day was when I spotted two condors. Reynaldo pulled over so that we could watch them and eventually there were four of the magnificent birds.

We finally stop to have lunch at the small town of Alota. While it is being prepared, I wonder off on my own. I find the town square and church. I also find the local 'telephone' service with big discs and a solar panel out front.

When we finally return to Uyuni, I am very happy to have time alone again.

This is a three day tour that crosses a tremendous variety of environments surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. There are deserts of dirt, sand, and salt; abundant wildlife and areas devoid of any wildlife; and a series of lagoons which have their own unique colors. It is an area of extremes: the largest salt flat, the most lithium, and the driest desert. Sometimes there are roads to follow and sometimes there are none. At times, it seems we are the only people on earth and then suddenly, we are among 20 other 4-wheel drive vehicles filled with camera-carrying tourists. Come along and see some of the sights!

Early in the morning, we leave the salt hotel in San Juan and head across Salar de Chinguana. Various volcanoes loom in the distance: Tomasamil, Olague, and Choquela (at almost 6,000 meters). We will be seeing a series of six lagoons today. I am most excited about the flamingos and seeing wild vicuñas (I saw a few in a Peruvian zoo).

As we approach the first lagoon (Cañapa), I spot the first vicuñas of the day...

And then the flamingos come into view.....

The lagoon attracts other wildlife as well.

Okay, so maybe the two French men aren't so wild, but they have been a lot of fun. We stop at three more lagoons (Hedionda, Chiarkota, and Honda). They all have flamencos (flamingos). There are three species: James, Andino, and Chileno. And with the increase of water, the sitings of vicuñas increases

And there is a viscacha (similar to a rabbit) tucked into the rocks...

The scenes change as we continue...

We stop to see the Arbol de Piedra (tree of rock) which Faride renames 'mushroom' (in French of course) and there are other large rock structures as well. While some climb the dunes in the distance, I meet the guy who works at this isolated site. He has a one room adobe house (about 8 x 8 feet) with a solar panel by the door. He is there for 15 days and then rotates to five other sites. This is the most isolated. The solar panel is for the radio used for work. He has a dog for company, but no heat or running water. He has a mouth full of coca leaves.

Our next stop is Laguna Colorado. More flamingos! There is also an enclosed viewpoi.nt where a man is dressed in so many insulated layers he resembles the Michelin tire guy. He has even more coca leaves stuffed in his gums and cheeks than the last guy. He spends his days in this cold spot overlooking the huge lagoon and then commutes across the way on a motorcycle to where the researchers and other park workers live. This is Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa.

We do not see the illusive gato Andino (Andean cat) or a suri (similar to an ostrich) before we leave the park and stop for the night. It is really cold here and the sun hasn't even gone down yet. All six of us will be sleeping in the same room. There is no heat, but we are in luck. We can have a hot shower for 15 bolivianos each. We all gladly pay and line up for the single shower. The water is really hot and the floor tiles are really, really cold...as is the air when we step out of the shower. Someone has come up with a bottle of Bolivian wine, but it's pretty awful. We all prepare for bed in our own way. I have a silk sleep sack to add to my bed which is piled with blankets and wear my Andean hat, alpaca glovers and my polainas for extra warmth. With the high altitude and the cold there isn't much sleep for anyone...and each one of us snored at some time during the night...even the young kid!

To be continued....

This is a three day tour that crosses a tremendous variety of environments surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. There are deserts of dirt, sand, and salt; abundant wildlife and areas devoid of any wildlife; and a series of lagoons which have their own unique colors. It is an area of extremes: the largest salt flat, the most lithium, and the driest desert. Sometimes there are roads to follow and sometimes there are none. At times, it seems we are the only people on earth and then suddenly, we are among 20 other 4-wheel drive vehicles filled with camera-carrying tourists. Come along and see some of the sights!

I had come to the small town of Uyuni to find a tour for Salar de Uyuni, the huge salt desert in Bolivia. A Bolivian woman I had met in Copacabana had told me that it was an incredible area and she recommended spending a week there. I figured a 4-day tour would be good, but in shopping for a tour I found that most were one, two or three days. I also found that they all did pretty much the same tour and served the same food. The prices so far had been 650Bs, 700Bs and 750Bs-- a difference of only $15 US over a three day period. So the only things left to base my decision on were the personality of the tour office staff and who my companions might be.

The first office (650Bs) didn't have a group, but they were sure they would have one by the next morning. Hmmm.

The second office (700Bs) had a group four Australians in their early 20's and needed one more person. They spoke no Spanish (though the guide/driver spoke only Spanish). One of my priorities is to speak Spanish at all times. In addition, the age difference combined with their being good friends who were traveling together probably meant that I may not bond and be taken in as one of the group-- an important consideration when being 24-7 as a group. There was a possibility with a group from France, but not only was this another non-Spanish speaking group, but French is my absolute worst language and I have the most stereotypes associated with this nationality (sorry! I'm working on it...maybe some more time in Paris will change my mind...I'll see what I can do.) Bolivia seemed to be over-run with large groups of French tourists, so maybe the Australians wouldn't be so bad. sigh.

Unlike the first two offices which each had a woman with a toddler doing the arrangements, the third office had an owner and two lively young women. It was almost like a "girl's night out" talking with them. The group they had was two French woman about my age who were both single and two French men in the same age group...and they all spoke Spanish really well. Dang. More French. And apparently, the women are police? However, the guide/driver spoke Spanish only and they were all proficient in Spanish, right?...and the three woman were doing a good job of cajoling me and making me laugh. Okay...it did sound better than four Australians in their early 20's.

The next morning I meet the group, but it is a slightly different make-up. There are two French men. The other two are a father and daughter (country to be determined). We throw our gear on the roof rack and jump-in. Our combination guide and driver is Juan a friendly, confident man in his 30's. I still have doubts about my companions, but this guy seems a good time.

Our first stop is a train cemetery. Apparently at one time, Uyuni was the hub of train transport for all the minerals and metals being mined in this area of Bolivia (nearby Potosí is a huge mining town-- primarily silver, but gold and a lot of minerals, too) and a lot of these products went to Chile which is a few hours south of Uyuni. This worked well until oil was found and the wood-burning trains were forced out of business. Thus the abandoned trains...

The next stop is the little town of Colchani known for its artensenia market. My rule is not to buy anything. However, I made an exception in Puno, Peru when I bought a knit cap and some gloves to sleep in (yes, it was that cold!). I have plenty of warm things from the waist up, but am sadly lacking for the lower body. Knowing that we are heading to an area even colder than Puno, I indulge myself in a pair of alpaca wool polaines-- essentially hand-knit leg warmers that will protect me from the top of my boots and wool socks up to my knees. I didn't bargain since they were only about two dollars. There is also a small 'salt' museum that takes 5 minutes to see and a señora is cooking something (and you know I can't pass up street food!). It is something I have never had before, so I buy a small bowl of llama meat with potatoes and choclo (starchy, large-kerneled corn) after attracting the attention of my companions and getting them to agree to share it with me. I'm not hungry (and I normally don't eat much meat), but it's a chance to try something new and llama is the main source of protein in this area. We all agree that it's pretty good and for the first time, we interact a bit with each other. Language is of course a bit of a barrier. I stick to Spanish, but speak slowly for them. One of each pair has a bit of Spanish though not much...the two of them translate for their companions.

It's time to move on and within minutes we are on the edge of Salar de Uyuni the largest salt desert in the world where locals are harvesting salt. Things are distorted by so much bright white and when I step out of the high vehicle, I find myself putting my feet down carefully because it looks so much like compacted snow and I expect it to be slippery. We all have to wear glasses for the glare-- just like in the snow, we can be blinded by the reflected light. The flats seem to go on forever. In fact the whole area is 12,000 square kilometers and so flat that it varies less than one meter in altitude at any point. The surface is several meters thick. Needless to say, it is devoid of any wildlife or vegetation.

Not too far away is a salt museum which is actually the remains of what used to be a large hotel built out of salt with all the accouterments of a resort-- a swimming pool, golf course, etc. There's not much left now. Juan claims it was because the local authorities wanted to transfer the income to hotels in Uyuni and closed it down, but the real story is most likely another one. The huge hotel complex was polluting the salt flats and the human waste had to be manually removed and transported out. It had become a serious ecological and health hazard. I laughed out loud when I saw two signs posted on the backside of the museum-- one was in Spanish and the other one was in English. Yes, I could see that there might be a problem if people (men!) ignored the signs. In my mind, I could see that the foundation of the museum would slowly dissolve. I imagined the museum getting lower and lower until it was no longer there. I'll let the picture below explain if you are puzzled...

As we head out across the flats to the next destination, I still can't shake the concept that we are on compacted snow and ice. I find myself wondering if we would skid if Juan slammed on the brakes. I want to ask him, but bite my tongue knowing that it is an illusion and we won't slide around like on ice. My companions share my thoughts. The father from Holland comments that it is like a frozen lake and he has the sensation that we will break through if we hit a thin spot (he also pointed out that the salar was one fourth the size of his country). However, this concept changes when we arrive at Isla Incahuasi. This is known as isla flotante or floating island. It is also called Isla Pescado or Fish Island because it is in the shape of a fish. Stepping onto the island, the sense of snow and ice changes. Now, it feels like the salt should be moving like a body of water. A climb to the mirador at the highest point of the island provides a 360 degee view of the salt desert...no...make that salt sea. To make it even more bizarre, the island is coral and volcanic rock and has hundreds of strange cactus. This Echinopsis cactus grows about 1 centimeters or .39 inches a year and can get up to 12 meters or 139 feet tall-- you do the math!

After lunch and our exploration of the island, there were some changes. The two French men (Faride and Wilhem) and I changed to another vehicle. The father and daughter were on a one day tour and would be returning to Uyuni. In the new vehicle there were three more people from France-- a father, mother, and a 25-year old son who would sleep most of the time. I was now in the company of five French speaking people. Yes, the people selling tours will tell you anything to get you to buy their tour.

We eventually left the roadless salt flats and were on earth again (literally since the island had felt like being on Mars). We were now headed into an an agricultural community based on quinoa and llama herds. We spent the night in a hotel made of salt blocks in the small town of San Juan. Only French was spoken over dinner. It was a long evening. The bright spot was that it was not cold....yet.

To be continued....with more pictures and less talk (I promise!).

Isla del Sol and Isla de la Luna are both in Lake Titicaca on the Bolivian side near Copacaban. Unfortunately, I was unable to go to Isla de la Luna as I had hoped; tourism was so low that neither company had any one else who was interested in going. Here are some images of that warm, sunny, lazy day. The village is Yumani.

Come along. You'll just need a hat, sunglasses, sunscreen and a bottle of water. Don't worry, we'll skip the boring ruins and just see the Inca structures still in use. But hurry up or we'll miss the boat!

Phew. Back in Copacabana. Did you notice the guy driving the boat was using his foot to steer while he read his phone messages? No? It's probably just as well. Let's go get some dinner..it's been a long day.

This is dedicated to my girlfriends, my brother, and a few others who are hoping I will find love on my travels...

Dark, handsome and all male. This is about my brief relationship with Torrito.

Entering Bolivia via Titicaca, I got off the bus at Copacabana which by the way, is the original Copacabana before the one in Brazil. It's a cute little town with about 5,000 citizens. I imagine it may not be so cute when flooded with tourists, but in April the tourism is still slow. It's warmer here (thank heavens!) than it was in Puno, Peru-- the sister or perhaps more accurately 'rival' town on the other end of Lake Titicaca, but the altitude is about the same at 3841m. I don't have any problems with soroche (altitude sickness), but I find myself overwhelmed with a deep sigh occasionally as my body attempts to get more oxygen.

I spend the first afternoon wandering around town to get my bearings and scout out what I want to explore over the next day or two. I take note of a lovely basilica by the Plaza 2 de Febrero, a small market place, a Thai/India/Japanese restaurant (huh?), and the lake itself. I plan to take a boat to Isla del Sol y Isla de la Luna (Islands of Sun and Moon) and the hotel clerk tells me about the mirador high above the town that is actually called Cerro Calvaria. Calvary Hill is not just a viewpoint, it is a place of pilgrimage with small monuments and 14 Stations of the Cross. Each station represents penance and prayer. It was built to enhance the pilgrimage to the Basilica of the Virgin. (Read more about the Virgin de la Candalaria in the posting "Top News Story...." )

For me, it will not be a pilgrimage, but a chance to stretch my legs, test my lungs, and get some great views of Copacabana and Lake Titicaca. There are two trails that can lead me there, I take the one nearest to my hotel and.. oh my!... it is steep. I am huffing and puffing pretty quickly, but once I get my walking rhythm my breaths even out.

Looking up the hill that leads to the trail head... and looking down the hill.

While many miradors or scenic viewpoints have cautionary warnings about robberies along the trails, I have heard nothing about this one. In Puno, there were two miradors (El Condor and La Puma); one had warnings while the other did not. When I don't encounter anyone on the trail, I have some thoughts about safety, but within minutes I feel better when I am joined by another adventurer. He gives me a big grin and matches my pace. I appreciate the companionship and allow him to join me.

Occasionally, he steps to the side to check things out, but then he catches up with me again. It is this activity that makes me give him the name of Torrito...he marks his territory and then paws at the ground until there is a cloud of dust, just like un torro or a bull. I find this mildly amusing and tell him so, but then, we encounter another male dog and he becomes aggressive. We have a little chat about this side of his personality. I let him know that if he wants to walk with me, he needs to chill out. However, I also let him know that I do appreciate his companionship and protective presence. He gives me another grin and we continue up the hill.

Torrito is patient with me when I move too slowly. He goes off to explore and then comes back to join me. Occasionally, he makes fun of me by laying down and resting. When I finally catch up with him, he jumps up and shows off how energetic he really is. As we get higher, the views get better and better. Halfway up, the bells of the Basilica begin to ring. They continue for a very long time and I realize it is in recognition of a sad event that has happened the day before (again, read more about this in the posting "The Top News Story...").

Torrito and I do meet a few others that are hiking up and others that are coming down, but he faithfully remains my companion. He makes me feel safe and is great company. He is a very good listener. Thank heavens I speak Spanish so he can understand me!

When we reach the top, he finds a small bone and has a snack. I have only water and a small bag of mani in their shells (cacahuates in Mexico and Central America or peanuts in English). He doesn't like the peanuts, but he appreciates it when I find a concave rock and pour some water for him. He gets a little excited when he spots two women eating sandwiches, but responds when I ask him to come to me and leave them in peace. The women wave their appreciation. I tell Torrito that I am sorry I don't have something more to share with him. A few others are having their lunches and he looks longingly at these treats, but sticks by my side.

The other hikers seem to like Torrito. He's very friendly and several give him some pats on the head and show their appreciation with smiles or nods to me. He is a very handsome and healthy dog. Alll black except for a bit of white or grey around his muzzle giving him a mature look. He has nice hazel eyes. We have been together for several hours by now, but I am pleased that he wants to accompany me on the way down. When we are almost to the place where he joined me, I see two children sitting on a rock. I ask them if they know Torrito, but they shake their heads. We arrive at our earlier meeting point, but he doesn't seem to care. I tell him that if he wants to continue into town with me that I will buy him something to eat. He accepts the invitation.

We go up the hill to the market I saw the day before. I am hoping that he will wait for me outside, but it seems there are several other dogs walking among the aisles so I let him tag along. I buy 5 bolivianos (about 72 cents US) of some locally made cheese and we share some. I realize that while he shows his appreciation that it might not be his preferred snack so we go back and I find a small packet of lunch meat. We head to the Plaza 2 de Febrero which has a nice garden. I choose a bench in the shade and we sit down. I give him the first few slices and then take one for myself. Torito's in luck! Even though it looks pretty good, I don't like the ham and Torrito gets the rest. We both finish off the cheese. I decide to read for awhile and Torito decides to take a nap.

Eventually, it gets chilly in the shade, so I move to a bench in the sun. Torrito tags along even though I know he prefers the shade. I point to the bit of shade under the bench below where I am sitting and he curls up below me. Eventually it gets too hot and I realize that I still have not paid a visit to the Basilica. I know that Torrita cannot go with me and I am dreading our goodbye. I picture his sad look when I arrive at my hotel and have to leave him. Will he give me a hurt look? Will he whine or whimper at my abandonment? How will this end?

I get up and walk to the Basilica across the street. I glance behind and Torrito is still sleeping under the bench. It is best this way, I tell myself. When I get to the Basilica, I realize there are about six vehicles parked in front, decorated with flowers and waiting to be blessed. The families are waiting with great anticipation. One family has bottles of cold drinks waiting for the celebration. There is a murmur of excitement when the police officer who drives one of the vehicles is seen walking out of the Basilica with the priest. Photographers prepare to record the event. The priest carries a bucket of holy water that he sprinkles under the hood of the cars, inside the cars, and onto the hands of the drivers (who then rub it onto their heads). An old woman and a young boy take advantage of the occasion and ask for alms.

I am standing on the steps to the basilica watching the blessings when I see a black dog come out of the park across the street. He is sniffing the ground. Can it be? I hold my breath. He appears to lose the scent he is following. The park is arranged like the spokes of a wheel. Torrito and I entered from the other side. When I left him sleeping, I took one of the eight possible ways out on the opposite of how we entered...and that is the same way Torito has chosen as his exit. Is it by chance or did he follow my trail? I don't want him to see me, yet I feel a tug of sadness when he gives up and heads down the hill.