The prospect of writing about and choosing pictures for my Bolivian adventure is daunting. Every day was a ridiculous adventure of some sort, and I took over 3 gigabytes of pictures. Luckily I started taking notes in Bolivia.

First, an introduction to Bolivia... it is the size of Spain and France combined, but with only 8 million people, 90% of whom are located in the south west of the country. The rest is mostly jungle. They have had more than a fair share of unstable governments, but now they have democracy and a native president, Evo Morales, who is a source of pride for the people. There is a lot of Anti-US sentiment in the country, because the infusion of food and clothing aid destroys any chance of local production competition. There are hundreds of political graffiti walls saying things like 'Fuera USAID!', which means 'Get out, US aid'.

The people are poor, and there is sometimes not enough water for everyone, but prices are incredibly low for foreigners. If your expenses were just rent and food, I would say you could live there 20 times longer than in the United States for the same money. I'm a cheap bastard, but if I had to, I could get by on US$3 a day in Bolivia. On the other hand, it's hard to travel alone. You need to do tours to see the cool things. If you tried driving around the jungle or salt flats by yourself, you'd probably get lost and die.

I took the bus to the border, La Quiaca, which was a dustland. There was a heinous line to leave Argentina, but there were hundreds of Bolivian women with giant sacks of fruit on their backs, skipping the line, crossing the border with no one stopping them. I thought that was strange since even between Zambia and Zimbabwe you needed to walk to a window to get a piece of paper stamped, even if it was just a mindless stamping without looking up to see who you are.

When I got to the Bolivian side, it was US$135 to enter on my US passport, and free to enter on my South African passport, but I needed to get a visa first, which required going back to Argentina. So I went, and at the Bolivian embassy, asked for a visa. However, since I came to Argentina on my US passport, and had an exit stamp on the US passport, I had to use the US to enter. So I went back to Bolivia, in the express line, and looked for an ATM. There was one ATM about a kilometer away, so I walked, and fished out my withdrawal limit, US$100, plus 300 Bolivianos. I had US$20 emergency bucks, and converted my 70 Argentinian pesos to an additional US$20, and went back to the border to pay. The border only took US dollars, not their own currency. They didn't have US$5 change, so they gave me change in Bolivianos. (US$1 = 7 Bolivianos.)

I zen-walked to the train station, and had an hour before my train left for Tupiza. I took the executive class, which was wonderful. It worried me a little bit that the conductors wore swine flu masks. They showed some typical Bolivian "Kiarkas" music videos, one of which I have heard before. It was the first time I saw footage of a Bolivian street parade, and I thought 'what the hell is this? what sci-fi novel did they choose for their cultural heritage?' The people in the parade looked like the bad guys from Mighty morphin power rangers. It was a pleasant train ride, and I arrived in Tupiza at night. Being South African, I keep a close watch on my bags, but some Dutch guy in executive class was robbed on that same train. It wasn't me, I swear.

Executive leg room	All aboard the Swine flu express!

Tupiza was my first stop, and I followed some lady to a hostel. The prices were so cheap I thought I'd best go to one that cost a little more. So for 25 Bolivianos (US$3.50), I got my own room, with a key, and use of a kitchen. The kitchen was filthy, and I asked the people how old the mushrooms were. They said they were potatoes.

I walked around the market and bought some 'Palta's, which are like avocados, but a lot bigger, and a bit more fruity. I bought rice out of a giant 100 kilogram sack, and had a hearty farty rice, noodle, palta, onion, chili and tomato paste concoction, for about 8 Bolivianos.

I went for a hike behind the city, and eventually found the path I was trying to take. I was the only person except for some horse back riding tourists and their guide.

The scenes on the way included: La Puerta del Diablo (Devil's Gate), Valle de los Machos (Macho valley), and Cañon de los Incas (Incan canyon). They were all pretty cool. I had never seen scenery exactly like it. The valley of the machos is so called because it is basically a valley of penis-looking rocks. The Incan canyon was fairly treacherous because of all the rocks to climb, and because it's not clear what you're looking for, so one could get lost easily. I got pretty far, but turned back because I was running out of water.

Mmm rusty nesquik	The Devil's gate
The machos	Puerta del Diablo!
um	seriously
Canyon of the Inca...	The Eye of Sauron
More phallic rocks	Sulphur mountain
The ubiquitous hill cross	Not practical. it's 30 degrees

I decided I'd take a tour of the Uyuni salt flats, and headed to some 'Valle Hermosa' tour group which was attached to a hostel. I listened to the spiel, and it was basically 4 days in a jeep stopping at every thing worth seeing on the way. How many people came decided how much it cost. I had almost no money, and put down my last US$10 as a deposit. I'd never done a tour before, so I felt like changing my mind, but I'm glad I didn't, as I met some really cool people.

Tupiza had one ATM that you had a 3 hour line, and a Prodem, which gives advances on credit cards for a 6% commision. My Visa's magnetic strip stopped working, so it became a real problem getting money in Bolivia.

That night I ran into some friends from Cafayate. The irish guy and 2 dutch guys. We had pizza, and it was fun. The israeli's from Cafayate were also there, and I didn't like them at all, and understood what the racist Romanian was talking about, though he didn't explain himself well, since he just swore and said he wants to kill them. The one Israeli asked me, "Youre Jewish, why don't you live in Israel?", and I said, "It's not important to me" and he said "but youre jewish" and i said "no difference" and the guy looked disappointed. But then they all just spoke Hebrew amongst themselves. They were a bunch of assholes. The one guy asked for coca matè, and he got what I expected, that is, the tea-bag version. He drinks half of it then calls the waitress and says 'No, I meant like, with the leaves', so she brings one with the leaves. Then he got charged for both, obviously. And he complained for 10 minutes. It was horrible.

The next morning, it turned out the Uyuni tour company people had found some group of inseparables, and since they comprised more money than me by myself, i had to wait until the next day. But they gave me a free night accomodation.

I was feeling better about going on the tour now. I was having severe doubts because of lots of beer and recovering from hearing that horrible salesman explain the route twice with imitated enthusiasm, once to me, once to a Uruguayan couple who ended up not going. 'whoo chicos, es impressionante, y chicos, mira, aqui, los montañas... son impressionante, y chicos, despues chicos, aqui es impressionante... etc etc'

That day I tried climbing Cerro Elefante, a mountain that looks like an elephant. It turned out to be unclimbable, and treacherous, though I found a cool shiny rock with crystals. It weighed too much so I just took a photo.

It really does look like an elephant	Pretty rock
The line for the only ATM	Tupiza at dusk

That night, there was a golden opportunity to check out the Bolivian youth night life, but Tupiza was a town of tweens and old folk, so it would have been scary. I could hear it from my bed. The DJ mumbled something in turbo spanish, and then pumped 20 seconds of an old ATB song, and young girls would scream. I was afraid of the children, because I would have very little to reply to their stares and fast talk. By then I was getting accustomed, if one can ever become accustomed, to Cumbia music, which is hard to describe as music, but if I were to classify it, it is derived from the late Wesley Willis's unique schizo-vagrant genre, accompanied by a mid-range casio keyboard, and extensive use of the pitch modulator. If you do not know Wesley Willis, or Cumbia, for the sake of humanity, do not look it up.

The next morning, June 11, we were ready and good to go. They found a group of 6 total to do the salt flat trip, which lasted 4 days, starting in Tupiza and ending in Uyuni, after seeing everything there is to see in the south west corner of Bolivia. The most important part being the 'Salar de Uyuni', an incredible 10000 square kilometers of salt. 10 billion tons of salt. 8 metres deep salt underfoot. You'll have to excuse me if I don't remember what any specific place was called. By the tenth stop, it all becomes deserts, lakes, mountains. We climbed up and down between 3000 and 5300 metres of altitude. It was substantially cold.

In the jeep were: Alfredo the driver, the two Danish guys, Louis and S¢ren, the three French girls, Jennie, Carole and Sophie, and yours truly. The first few hours we got each others names down, and started to crack jokes. I was the only one who spoke Spanish at a conversational level, but luckily English was the lowest common denominator. Alfredo put on some legendarily bad music, starting with Bryan Adams, and moving on to Ace of Bass and Mr President Ayaya-cocobamba-yayaye, and various reggaeton odds and ends.

We checked out the Valley of the moon, and had lunch with some llamas. The Europeans were inept at hunting. We ate some weird ball of potato, chicken and egg, and S¢ren thinks this is what gave him his blue face of death the next day. No one else was sick though. We stopped at a poor town somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The only visitors are tourists passing through on this tour. We jumped across the town's river. We also saw some place where they harvest Borax out of the ground. Borax?, you say?

There were two butterflies playing, or chasing each other in the middle of this barren landscape. The jeep plowed through, killing one of them. No one else noticed the little drama.

At night, we pulled into a little place with no electricity, where they raised lambs and llamas. I climbed the hill to see the sunset. I handed out my beers which I bought for the occasion. I sat by the fire and spoke for a little while with the natives, who were making our food. They had a puma they caught. That night we drank my Fernet and the Danes' Whisky, and played music on the guitar. Louis was pretty good at the guitar. We did Danish tongue twisters. "piske skips ge pis"? and something that sounded like "flippity floppity floop".

Valle de la Luna	Llamas
Alfredo	Tourists
At the 'saddle'	Cool mountain
Puma rarr	Sunset
The stars on 15 second exposure	Louis on guitar

The next day, we got up before the sunrise, and carried on. It was freezing, and the Danes complained of getting no sleep. S¢ren complained of feeling like he was going to die. We drove to some mountain road which was the "highest road accessible by car" in the world, though we didn't go to the top. We stopped at 5,350 metres. We went to a frozen lake, and saw a little bird who had been frozen in the water. We threw rocks, some dangerously close, but lucky for him, Alfredo had good aim, and he saved its live.

We got a flat tire, but Alfredo is probably one of the world's foremost experts on changing tires, so in 5 minutes we were off again. We stopped at hot springs, where we all soaked, and had lunch. The lunchs that Alfredo prepared were amazing. The guy worked tirelessly (no pun intended).

We went to see some volcano on the border with Chile, and stood at a cool spot where Chile, Argentina and Bolivia borders met. and came back, stopping at the Salvador Dali's desert, which was a little spot in the middle of nowhere, where the famous painter stayed for some months, and drew pictures. He found the place inspiring, though to me, it seemed quite barren. We got our second popped tyre there, and had some incredible luck. We had seen almost no cars the whole time, and then all of a sudden, within one minute, an official compressor truck, from the Dakar rally drove up to us, and asked if we wanted them to fill the tyres. (Owing to high crime in Senegal, the Dakar rally was moved to South America for 2009).

We saw some nice landscapes, including geysers, and that night, slept in a more upbeat hostel, which included electricity, though the toilet was flushed by pouring water in from a bucket. Soren was still having no fun, and I brought him some soup, because he hadn't eaten all day. The next day he seemed better. We drank Fernet and Whisky again, and played some card game that the French girls had been practicing all their life. Battalle Corps, or something. Carole was so fast I think she was maybe one of those secret reptilian humanoids that David Icke writes about. The French girls were also amusing, because they sang Robbie Williams, Stevie Wonder and Natalie Imbruglia songs with silly lyrical mistakes as you'd expect a French person might interpret the sounds, "Coming on my face" instead of "Running through my veins". Er.

Jeep was hijacked	Toyota LandCruiser '86
Bird frozen in lake	After escape
First flat tire	Llama with earrings
Dali's desert	Running in Dali's desert
Second flat tire	Waiting for help
That was pretty damn lucky	Fumarole/geyser
Cool weed thing	Rabbitty looking critter

The third day, we started by checking out the flamingos at Laguna Roja, which is supposed to be red. But the time of year meant there were few flamingos, and nothing was red. It was still cool though.

Lago Roja steaming away	Nice ice
Interesting rocks	Humans
Flamingoes	Flamingoes
Lago Roja from above...	Cool face in the lake

We also stopped at Arbol de Piedra, (Rock tree), which was a place with lots of interesting rocks eroded by some ancient river.

Arbol de Piedra...	Doc, my head feels heavy
Mushroom rocks	Just rocks
Clam rock	Bambi of the Llamas

We stopped for lunch at Lake Hedionda, and there was some sort of lodge/bar. We threw rocks on the ice, trying to break through. I ordered some beer, and everyone else realised it was a great idea, and ordered more. It was more than double normal price, at 20 Bolivianos for a 660ml bottle, but that is still reasonable, for being in the middle of nowhere. Lunch was great.

By now I had a solid reputation of eating a lot. Every morning Alfredo laid out a basket of cookies and crackers, which in the store are an incredible 5 Bolivianos for a kilogram or so, and we consistently finished all of them. We started joking about what Alfredo must think, "Jesus they ate all the cookies?". He almost seemed to notice because the number of cookies doubled some mornings. I also drank a lot of 'Toddy', a nesquik substitute with 7 vitamins!

We did a little walk down a hill while Alfredo drove slowly down a particulary bumpy road, which was the only mandated spot of exercise we did those 3 days so far.

We stopped before the end of the day at a sizable little no-where town, of maybe 15000 people. The main attraction of the town was a mummy museum and mausoleum site. We stopped in a little store to buy some beer, and Alfredo showed me their coca leaf bag, which was impressive. We worked out where the mummies were, and went to see them, at 5 Boliviano entrance. Poor Louis dropped his camera, according to the Curse of the Mummy, and was angry for a few hours. But it was just the lens that broke a tiny plastic swivel-holder, so he had to hold the lens when he took pictures. Could have been a lot worse.

Day 3 was very lazy. We were pretty much ready for the Salares. We parked off for the night at Hotel Sal (Salt Hotel), which is a novelty hotel made entirely out of hardened salt. It was amazingish. There were lots of tour groups that night, mostly Israelis doing 3 day tours from Uyuni. We were all happy and playing card games. We finished all the alcohol, and I was glad that someone finished the Fernet, because it was revolting. As the last stragglers of the evening played poker, Louis and I took turns playing guitar riffs as themes to the games. They turned off the generator, and when we went to bed, Soren took endless flashes with his blinding external camera flash, and took great joy in the pain it caused us.

Liquid Lunch	Coca madness!
A bird at the frozen lake...	Momia
Hotel Sal	The room
Me licking the wall	Lunar-like landscape
The sunset	Damn Soren taking flash photos

The final day of the tour we woke up early again, before the sun rise, and drove out into the Salar, and stopped to take some sunrise pictures. We stopped at Isla Pescado for lunch, which is a little island in the middle of the salt flats. We climbed to the top of the hill, and walked down, looking at the cacti. The really big ones had signs saying how old they were. There was this poor cactus, the Millenium cactus, it was called, who was born in pre-medieval times, 'Lived: 1203 years', and it had a death pronouncement as 'Died: 2007', which I can't help thinking had something to do with humans.

Amazing sunrise	The salt
More amazing sunrise	Some artsy shit
Superman vs. the World	Like a beehive, kind of.

The ground around Isla Pescado was dirtied by countless jeep tracks, but we went beyond the tracks to take photos as one does in the wide open salt flats. It's difficult to take any photos that have not been taken before there, but perhaps my Shuriken had not been tried yet.

We went to another Salt lodge place where they had little salt mountains. They also had a little puddle of water, and we got a small idea of the reflectiveness that lucky visitors see when it rains.

Our final stop was at the exit/entrance to the salt flats, where Bolivians sold the same trinketty rubbish at the same price in every store. I did get a cheap beanie though.

Cacti on Isla Pescado...	The sky
Small human, big earth...	Cacto Milenario
Probably the biggest cactus there...	I really, really liked Toddy
The Pottier sisters	Me on my shuriken
Flags	Salt water pool
Little mountain climbers	Ridiculous salt art

We left the salt flats and went to Uyuni. There, we owed Alfredo money. I had paid 370 Bolivianos towards the 1090 Bs. it cost to go on the tour. The Danes had paid 0 so far. As it turned out, the one ATM in the town did not work, and Prodem was closed because it was a Sunday.

So we had to stay for a day, otherwise poor Alfredo wouldn't be able to afford more coca leaves. He had to leave, so he took us all to a 40 Boliviano hostel, and assigned some guy who he found and trusted, to meet us the next day to collect the money.

I went for a walk with Jennifer through the Sunday market, and people were selling everything, including dead hawks. We all went for a walk to the Uyuni Railroad Car Graveyard, which is where they dumped all their broken railway cars. The place had so much garbage that it was beautiful in a way. Like "Karoo flowers", if you have heard of this sarcastic African expression.

At night we all went to eat pizza at 'Arco Iris' because we couldn't find the world famous pizza place 'Minuteman' pizza, because it was apparently inside a hotel. It was ok anyway, and they accepted my Visa. We drank a lot. Afterwards Louis and I decided we were going to hit the night life, and went to Karaoke. But it was just 3 drunk Bolivians crooning, and instead we bought beer from a store and walked around the city looking for the hostel. Some guy shouted 'Friiiiioooo!' (Cold) very loud, and it was amusing. We passed a few houses that had music, or a bit of a party going on.

The next day was a nightmare, because the ATM did not work, and they would not accept my Visa, because the magnetic strip did not work. Louis also had troubles, and so Soren ended up saving us all. He took out 3000 Bolivianos, paid for all three of us, on the condition that we'd pay him back in La Paz. Later that day, the ATM started working again, so we paid him back that day, and the poor bastard had to carry 2000 Bolivianos around with him. Poor Louis also took over an hour to find the guy, who had his passport as collateral for the unpaid 2200 Bolivianos. We all bought tickets for La Paz leaving late at night. And we went to the Extreme Fun Pub for brunch.

The Extreme Fun Pub was, er, anyway, we all had pancakes and omelettes, and we checked out the wall of fame, of all the people who had competed in the Shot challenge, or the Beer challenge. The 1st place for the shots was a UK chick, who drank 10 shots (2 of which are more like 5 shots), in 36 seconds. Some guy followed one second behind. There was one South African already on the board, who did it in 65 seconds. For the beer challenge, the record was something like 3 litres in 21 seconds, which I know I can't beat. It was 200 Bolivianos to compete, and free if you were in the top 5. But I didn't do it. There were 5 winners and an entire wall of losers.

One of the shots you had to drink was 'Llama Sperm', so I wasn't really that keen anyway. We all sort of split up again, and Louis and I walked around, seeing a military parade, and looking for ice cream. When we found a place, it turned out to be a 'batida' alley, where about 5 ladies have stands of blenders and fruit. I tried asking for a milkshake, and she had no idea, so I rephrased as 'Jugo de Fruta con helado mesclado', and asked how much it cost. 5 Bolivianos. Deal. What I didn't expect was that for 5Bs., I got the entire blender full of Banana chocolate milkshake. I got 4 large glasses of milkshake, making it the best deal, at least for milkshake, in my life.

Louis and I could not find the others, so we went back to drink at the pub. We got Coca Mojitos, for the novelty of it, and it was not an improvement on the mint variety.

We met with them back at the hostel and I think we might have gone back to Arco Iris for supper. I can't remember. The bus ride to La Paz that night was very miserable, with no heating, rickety windows, on a gravel road until Oruro, and so overbooked that there were probably as many people standing as there were sitting.

We traded buses at about 2am, which was not pleasant either, and shivered through the night to La Paz. Carole traded her shitty blanket for Soren's down bag, and then said she needed all of it, as we were sharing until then. So I used my towel, which was not as nice as the down sleeping bag.

Go internet translation!	Donny Darko blankets
The majestic hawk	Crumpled train
Bang, S¢ren Bang.	Soren and Carole
Our graffiti	Inside an Engine
Inside a tanker...	The Extreme Fun Pub!!!!!
Rubbish	Louis at the train graveyard

At 6am, we rode into La Paz, and like they say, it is a fucking impressive city. It was actually a bit ridiculous. It is a huge valley, at 4000m altitude, and every square centimetre of it is filled by adobe-coloured boxy houses. A huge snow capped mountain looms in the background.

I had foolishly had a beer on the bus, and was requiring the biggest piss in history, so I was willing to go anywhere. We hopped in 2 taxis, and went to the Adventure Brew hostel. The cab driver made it look complicated to get there, but it turned out to be 3 blocks away, downhill. 10 Bs. to drive us about 200 metres.

We checked in, and it was 60 Bs., which was the most I had paid in Bolivia, but it worked out to be a good deal. You got unlimited pancakes in the morning, and a free beer at night.

Our time in La Paz was pretty lazy, which was ok. I was amped about hurrying up, because that bit of laziness precluded my chances of seeing Peru and Machu Picchu, but Soren was feeling lazy, and staying in bed. He had also taken a liking to Carole, and wanted to do a bike ride on the 'Death road' with the girls. So I stayed in La Paz for 4 days, and did laundry, and visited much of the city.

I decided to go with the Danes to Rurrenabaque, to see the jungle and the pampas. The French girls were going on to Peru. We mostly split up in La Paz, Louis and I not convinced of spending 550 Bs. to bike down the world's most dangerous road. Seemed a ripoff to me, and I was sure South Africa's N2 was more dangerous, at least for pedestrians. Soren didn't want to leave the girls just yet, which is understandable, but that meant we wouldn't be doing the 4 day boat tour up the river, which I think would have been rad, but in hindsight, who knows.

I explored the city a bit, including Mercado Bruja (Witches Market) where they sold dead and dried baby llamas, for sacrifices, among other things.

I came back and went for another walk with Louis cause the others were still asleep, at about 2pm. Louis and I ate lunch at America Pollo, checked out the Coca Museum, (which was interesting... Bolivia never banned coca leaves. It was just the Geneva convention in 1966 that made it a technical no-no for exportation. Now it is mass produced as an industry, since 90% of Bolivians chew the leaf). We also went to the mirador, which was cool. You could see a lot, though probably nothing compared to climbing one of the hills. We took a minibus taxi, which was 1.50Bs., and checked out a pool bar.

At night we rounded up everyone to go to the pool bar, Dead Stroke, and reluctantly they came. The pool bar was closed though, so I said let's go to this place, 'Traffic', which had a live band with 2 playboy bunny girls dancing to horrible Bolivian dance music played with midi pads and a keytar. But it was cool. I bought everyone drinks, and I improvo-danced with Jennifer, but couldn't get Sophie off her chair.

I convinced everyone afterwards to come to the Mirador, but then no one wanted to go when there was a hill involved. Of course there's a hill. We're in a valley! So it was a bit gay, but Louis and I went to the mirador without the others. It was one hell of a climb though. The city was amazing at night, and it was a shame I didn't have my camera. The others missed out, but at least I got them to see Traffic, which was a real cultural phenomenon.

About 5% of La Paz	Town center
Louis and mountain	bird

The next day all of us went to check out the Valle de la Luna, which is some unique landscape that looks like a giant dripped sand out of his hand. The management came up with ridiculous names for the rocks, like 'Old couple' where all you could really see were about 1000 rocks, no two looking like anything particular. We took a large taxi bus, which only cost 1Bs to go over 15km. Now that's public transport. La Paz has more mini-bus taxis than Cape Town, which is a real feat.

Sophie, Carole	Valle de la Luna
Some dude	Back to La Paz

At night, we all went to the pool bar, which was open this time. We played pool on a snooker table, which was ridiculous. It was impossible not to look like an amateur, and the other table finished 3 games by the time we finished one. I bought a 1.5L beer for 24Bs. We met some Australians at the hostel who came out with us, and they were funny. They busted some great puns, and said things like 'Alright Louis, nows your time to shine' and 'you got to be on fire now!'. The French girls were also being inadvertantly funny. Before we went out, Carole didn't want to go, so the Aussie said 'Boo' and she didn't understand, then Soren leaned over and said 'Buuu' in a french accent, and she said 'oh!' and frowned. After pool closed, Louis and I checked out a club called the 'RamJam', which was rubbish. There was live portuguese bongo, and salsa dancing, but we looked like lumberjacks at a debutante ball. We left after 15 minutes. It was described in the Lonely Planet as the place Paris Hilton would go, if she was in La Paz. Er, unlikely, and unlikely.

The last night in La Paz was mostly preparing for the jungle. The others went to do the Deathroad bike ride, and Louis and I looked everywhere for jungle clothes, walking in the morning with an Israeli girl. We got a shirt, bandana, a laser (cause of the Paul Simon song), superglue, and some fried chicken.

Dead baby llamas	Ghosts at night
Dead Stroke	Playing pool on a snooker table
Soren...	The national beer
The essence of pool	The Aussie, Dan.
Finishing my beer	Starting my beer

We hugged the French girls goodbye, and took the 18 hour bus ride to the jungle. The final part of the trip, reveals the stories of the Pampas and Jungle tours .

Scary mannequins	Paceños
Big bags	Hats, all of them too small
Puffy stuff	Why?