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Anna S. E. Lundberg

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Fun in the salt: The three-day tour of the Salar de Uyuni

9 July, 2013 By Anna S E Lundberg 2 Comments

When I had heard about the tours of the Salar de Uyuni, I had only been told, and seen pictures, of the salt flats themselves. But although these are arguably the highlight of the three-day tour, they actually only make up a small part of what you see.

Day one and we drove off in our jeep to the train cemetery just outside of town. Towards the end of the 19th century, Uyuni became a transportation hub for the mineral trains going to the ports. We were told that the trains came from Britain (along with a second import from this great kingdom, football), and the engineers who built the tracks were certainly British. By the 1940s, however, the mining industry had collapsed, and many trains were abandoned. Now the rusty old trains serve as a popular, if unusual, tourist attraction.
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Then the salt tour started in earnest: we went to a salt museum which consisted solely of salt statues of animals (you had to pay for the privilege of taking photos of these works of art), artisan stalls where you could buy various little objects made of salt, and the salt factory where we were taken through the process of heating and drying the salt to make a sellable product. You could also buy salt but it looked dangerously like cocaine so I didn’t think it was such a good idea. According to Wikipedia, the Salar de Uyuni contain as much as ten billion tonnes of salt, of which only 25,000 tonnes are extracted each year; and the salt is constantly being replenished, as it rains and the water evaporates in an endless cycle. We had lunch (cold lama meet with cold cheese sauce, cold quinoa and cold fries; but warm apple pie, yum!) in a salt hotel, with the tables and chairs, and in fact the whole building, made out of salt. Can you be allergic to salt? I don’t think so but if you are, don’t come on this tour.
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The most famous images of the Salar come from the middle of the salt flats, where the salt is more than 100 metres deep. In the rainy season, the ground is transformed into a perfect mirror with heaven and earth blending together in one huge canvas. In the dry season, as when I visited in June, the game is to play with the perspective in an optical illusion of endless white.
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When we’d finished playing, we continued on to Incahuasi, an ‘island’ on the salt flats with giant cacti. From the island, you can see three big mountains, about which Aymara legend tells of a classic tale of affairs and deceit. The giant mountain Tunupa married Kusku, but soon ran off with the third mountain Kusina. Tunupa, devastated, cried as she breastfed her son. Her tears and milk blended together to form the Salar; among the Aymara, therefore, their correct name is Salar de Tunupa.20130708-191050.jpg
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After spending a chilly night in another salt hotel (these have sprouted up in response to tourist demand), we left the world of salt and headed into a different landscape with volcanoes and lakes populated by different species of flamingos, as well as a very exciting tree of stone. The music taste of our driver and English-speaking guide left a lot to be desired but at one point we did let ourselves get swept up in a roaring rendition of YMCA and another of Wake me up before you go go. We had a great group: I was joined by a tall and talkative Australian girl, a not-so-talkative Dutch guy, and ‘the kids’ as we called them, a young English guy and his Slovakian girlfriend who we put in the back of the car (they had seats, we didn’t put them in the boot, I promise). (We also met a funny English guy who was very particular about how he wanted to take his photos; he was going to teach us kackerlacka-poker but sadly we didn’t see him again – so if anyone knows how this apparently fabulous game is played, please let me know!) We lost our children on the second day, as they were heading back to Uyuni in one jeep while the other three of us were joined by a Bulgarian couple as we continued on to San Pedro de Atacama, across the border in Chile.

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Day three, alas, we didn’t get to see the Laguna Verde or the geysers, or bathe in the hot springs, due to too much snow, and we also couldn’t cross via the usual pass. This meant a long detour and a (with hindsight) hilariously drawn-out journey across the border and into Chile. But more on that another time.

The practical bit – Salar de Uyuni tour recommendation:
-Lonely Planet and online forums tell you not to book in advance but to do so only once you’ve arrived in Uyuni and talked to other travellers and met the agencies in person. This is all well and good but you may arrive to find that the tours for the next few days are full – so you need to have a buffer of a few days in that case, or to be willing to go with one of the other random agencies.
-After much um-ing and ah-ing, I went with Red Planet Expeditions, recommended by a friend and receiving more or less positive reviews online. It was far from perfect – the guide wasn’t very clear in his explanations (the guide in the other jeep was much better); the food was, well, interesting; and on the third day, they woke us up early only to leave us hanging around for an hour and a half as they ate their breakfast at their leisure – BUT the driver wasn’t drunk, which I understand is a problem with many of these tours, and overall it was a good trip.

Filed Under: Bolivia, Travel Tagged With: Aymara, Bolivia, Incahuasi, Salar de Uyuni, salt flats, South America, travel, Uyuni

From Cusco to Puno: The Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca

30 June, 2013 By Anna S E Lundberg 2 Comments

From Cusco, I took the Inka Express bus for tourists, recommended by the Swiss man on my Galapagos cruise and by Lonely Planet. This meant that I wasn’t allowed to sleep on the journey as I would have liked, but instead we were herded off to see some church or ruin every hour or so. The guide was a charming man who looked like the French guy who lures Liam Neeson’s daughter into human trafficking in the movie Taken. “Mi nombre es Hugo. Cómo Hugo Boss. O Hugo Chávez. Jajaja.” He gave the exact same spiel in English as in Spanish.

On the way, we saw many of the non-native eucalyptus trees, imported from Australia to stop soil erosion but now planted everywhere as a cheap and profitable crop. Unfortunately in disregard of the fact that these thirsty trees are sucking the soil dry and in a few years time they won’t be biologically or economically feasible anymore. It was snowing at the highest point on the route, and the unfortunate souls who were bravely manning the artisan stalls had to cover them up and, I’m sure, did not do good business that day. In the communities at this high altitude, we were told, life expectancy is very low. This is due to the climate, their poor diet (they kept livestock but only to sell, while they stick to a very monotonous vegetarian diet), and the use of lama dung as fuel in houses with no windows. Community properties (previously under a feudal system) lack the titles to prove ownership, so the government could take the resources of these areas whenever they want to. The most important promise, therefore, that a politician in this area can make is to award these titles; but the inhabitants have been waiting 30 years for these promises to be fulfilled. Families have 4-6 children, as they need the labour, and education is limited though legally compulsory up to the age of 16. Education, as I’ve been repeatedly told by earnest locals, is the key to economic development and equality.

As we approached our destination, we passed through the commercial centre of Juliaca, strategically located between Cusco, Puno, and Arequipa, and close to the Bolivian border, and as such a centre of contraband trade. Puno, in fact, wasn’t a whole lot nicer, though more geared towards tourists. The main attraction is a visit to one of the islands, and in particular the unusual Islas de los Uros. The Uros are a pre-Incan people who live on manmade islands created from totora reed, originally built as a defensive measure against their aggressive neighbours.

The boat I took had some rather serious engineering problems but eventually we arrived at the island of Chumi. Five families make this island their home, with a president to lead them. In total, there are 2,000 Aymara-speaking inhabitants on 80 different islands. There is a small hospital and there are three primary schools, but for secondary education the children must travel to the mainland. On the capital island, there are even hotels. “No hay discoteca. No hay internet.” The principal activity is fishing; on the mainland, 1kg of fish can be exchanged for 2kg of potatoes. The people here also hunt birds and eat the meat – better than chicken, apparently. For entertainment, they play football and volleyball – but not basketball. And their weddings last for two days, with people coming all the way from Cusco and Arequipa to get married here.

From the small island of Chumi, we were told that we could also make a special visit to the capital island, for an additional, but apparently not optional, cost. As we left Chumi in one of the traditional boats (less traditionally powered by a small boat behind us with an engine), three women said their goodbyes. They sang a local song, followed by Row, row, row your boat, and finally Vamos a la playa. No commercialism here. We had a lovely boat ride after which we were dumped on a small patch of totora reed with an artisan shop, a restaurant, and a toilet. This must have been the ghetto of the capital. We all stood around there for an hour until the captain decided we would be allowed back to Puno.

The next day, I left Peru for the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca.

20130629-200243.jpgPhoto opportunity at the highest point on the journey from Cusco to Puno

20130629-200548.jpgOn the boat to the Islas de los Uros

20130629-200628.jpgShould the engine be smoking like that?

20130629-200831.jpgThe island of Chimu

20130629-201221.jpg“Bang! Bang! This is how we shoot the tourists.” Haha.

20130629-201415.jpgOur boat to the capital

20130629-201737.jpgAdiós Peru!

Filed Under: Peru, Travel Tagged With: Aymara, Cusco, Lake Titicaca, Peru, Puno, South America, travel, Uros

Saints, bulls and Pachamama: Faith and worship in South America

26 June, 2013 By Anna S E Lundberg Leave a Comment

Ha! As if I could hope to cover such a topic in one short post, and having just visited a few cities in a few countries. But what I can do is share my experiences of religion on my trip to date.

On arriving in Cusco for the Inca Trail, I was lucky enough for my visit to coincide with the start of the Corpus Christi festival. The saints of each of the parishes were taken to the Cathedral, from where they were paraded through town, and returned to their homes a week later. The saints were displayed in all their glory: one wore a beautiful pink and silver dress and carried a parasol and a bird; another was riding a horse; yet another looked like Michael Jackson. (There is, of course, a Santa Ana, and I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that she is the patron saint of corn beer…) The Plaza de Armas was filled with people, there were food stalls with pile after pile of cuy (guinea pig), and brass bands were playing everywhere I went.

Corpus Christi, like the Catholic religion as a whole, was imposed by the Spanish over Incan traditions. The Incas used to carry their mummies around the main square, to honour their ancestors; the Spaniards simply superimposed images of their saints and virgins. The Virgin Mary, for example, is said to represent Mother Earth, or Pachamama. Santiago, or Saint James, is Illapa, god of lightning and thunder.

To achieve this change in belief system, the Spaniards had to educate the local people on their new religion. As the Incas had no written language, this education was often done via images. The Iglesia de San Pedro, en route from Cusco to Puno, is built on Inca foundations, with original murals from the Jesuits and paintings with ornate gold frames as well as Moorish ceiling art added by the Dominicans. Two murals at the back of the church convey the nature of hell, on the left, and heaven, on the right, a departure from the Incan cosmology of three worlds. The murals being painted by indigenous artists, hell is not underground – the earth world was sacred to the Incas – but instead is depicted off to the side. An old white man is crossing the bridge to heaven, but on his back is a rope that is being pulled by the devil, representing temptation. The doorway holds text in Latin, Spanish, Quechua (phonetically written down by the Spaniards), and Aymara, the language spoken in the Altiplano region of Bolivia and around Lake Titicaca. Even more divergent is the mural depicting judgement day and hell in the Iglesia de San Juan Bautista, a few minutes away: here, you may be a little surprised when you find that a pope is among the eternally damned.

Elsewhere, other incongruities can be found as a result of this syncretism. The painting of the last supper in the Cathedral in Cusco includes a plate of cuy, the local corn, and the Andean drink chicha morada on the dinner table, along with a viscacha (wild chinchilla) instead of the more usual lamb. You may also be surprised to find a black Jesus (though his colour is not due to some great statement but simply having darkened with time), El Señor de los Tremblores, credited with the ending of a great earthquake in 1650. (Interesting fact: many churches collapsed in successive earthquakes in 1650, 1950, and 2007, while the Inca-built constructions survived.) In the Museo de San Francisco in La Paz, Bolivia, you will find the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus wearing the feather crowns of Andean royalty, and paintings depicting the passion of the Christ in which it is the Spaniards, not the Romans, who are whipping and crucifying Jesus.

The whole nature of Catholic churches, the world over but even more so in South America, is quite foreign to me, having grown up with the Lutheran churches of poor Sweden, where we had only wood, sometimes painted to look like marble, as well as the still relatively simple Anglican churches in the UK. The churches I’ve visited in Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile are in contrast incredibly ornate, with gold and silver, mirrors to reflect the sunlight and conjure illumination, and all those patron saints and virgins. In San Francisco, La Paz, I happened upon the end of a special mass, and was intrigued to see people filing out with statues, paintings, and glass cases in their arms, having had these objects blessed. In Copacabana, the priests throw holy water on the bonnets and engines of people’s cars.

Although foreign to me, and providing no specific religious benefit or solace, I still appreciate the peace and serenity you find in an (empty) church. I like to go inside and light a candle for my grandparents and for my cousin, to show that I’m thinking of them. But sadly many churches now have electric candles, which completely lack the spirituality of a real flame.

And local traditions remain. Witches’ markets sell lama foetuses to bury under house foundations in honour of Pachamama. When drinking corn beer, the first drop is always poured onto the ground in her honour as well. In the Aymara region, small clay bulls are placed as the final touch in a new house to bring the family luck and protection. And in the bull-fighting ring, a condor is tied to the bull to symbolise the fight against the Spanish.

While we’re on the subject, the conquistadors of course did not conquer the continent with only their faith. When Pizarro came to Peru in 1532, the Inca empire was still young, less than 100 years old, and had been weakened by a civil war between two brothers after the death of their Inca king father. The victor, Atahualpa, was easily captured and his unarmed guards killed in their thousands. He bargained for his freedom and offered a huge ransom of gold and silver, which Pizarro gratefully accepted, after which he killed Atahualpa anyway.

20130625-211009.jpgCusco cathedral and the crowds at Plaza de Armas

20130625-213018.jpgSan Sebastian, one of the patron saints

20130625-211309.jpgThe Iglesia de San Pedro, built on very stable Inca foundations

20130625-211731.jpgThe Iglesia de San Juan Bautista – looks simple from the outside!

20130625-211820.jpgOne of the bulls of the Aymara

20130625-212620.jpgUp on the roof of the Iglesia de San Francisco, La Paz

Filed Under: Peru, Travel Tagged With: Atahualpa, Aymara, Black Christ, cathedral, Corpus Christi, Cusco, El Señor de Los Tremblores, Iglesia de San Juan Baptista, Iglesia de San Pedro, Inca, Pachamama, syncretism, travel

More about Anna

Anna Lundberg is a success coach and business strategist who helps experienced corporate professionals reimagine success outside of the 9 to 5.

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