Bolivia Archives - Anna S. E. Lundberg

Entering the driest place in the world: The Atacama desert of northern Chile

13 July, 2013 By Anna S E Lundberg Leave a Comment

My mum used to say that she should travel to the Sahara, where she would be welcomed as a great witch doctor, as she brought rain wherever she went. I seem to have inherited this great gift, as I brought rain to the driest place in the world. That’s some powerful witchcraft.

The Salar de Uyuni tour had ended at the Chilean border, where for the first time they actually checked our luggage in customs, and the Bulgarian couple on our bus had to leave behind two apples. I also had a pretty special experience of going to the toilet in no man’s land, peeing behind a shed between the two countries. (Too much info?) We were picked up by a bus and drove on into Chile, where the landscape continued in much the same vein: they have salt flats, too, though they don’t seem to advertise it as much as Bolivia. Here, they mine borax, which is used, we were told, to make things like windows, water bottles… and chloroform. Hmm. Then suddenly we stopped: a flat tire. Another bus stopped behind us and the driver very kindly helped to replace the tire, after which he went on his merry way. A few seconds later, our driver discovered that the second tire was flat. At this point, I had another interesting toilet experience: peeing outside the car in a pretty much completely flat and open landscape (“Don’t turn around, please”), with a very strong, gusty wind. (Sorry, I did it again.) But we were saved once more, as another tour agency bus came by and said they could take us direct to our destination, San Pedro de Atacama. Ten minutes later, the new driver stopped and went off to a restaurant with his group. We had already stuffed ourselves with biscuits and nuts on the bus as we’d been told there would be no lunch stop, so we waited in the park. “Media hora.” They came back an hour later. Then we drove to the airport to drop some people off. But eventually we did, in fact, arrive in San Pedro, having driven through a lunar landscape of nothingness to arrive at the foot of the volcano Licancabur. I was still with Jen the “just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich” Australian and Hugo the “my behind-work hurts” Dutchman from the salt flat tour, and we collapsed into a nearby hostel and shortly thereafter went out for dinner. The stress of the journey had obviously taken its toll, as we went out in search of chocolate brownies, which we found, along with a few chocolate martinis (me) and whiskeys (Jen). Poor Hugo must have suffered in our company even more at this stage, as he only had a couple of beers.

The next day was a day of rest. After a lie-in, I wandered the streets, browsing the shops and artisan stalls. And then it started to rain. In the driest place in the world, in case you’d forgotten. I happened to be walking past the archeological museum so I popped in to a look. The museum was founded by a Belgian, Gustave Le Paige, a Jesuit who arrived in 1955 to take over the parish. The mummies that had previously constituted the highlight of the museum have unfortunately been moved to a more protected place for preservation, so what was left was an okay exhibition of plants, textiles, and ceramics from the region. Most interesting I found the ornate tablets for inhaling hallucinogens.

In town, I bumped into the Bulgarian couple from our tour. They had been most upset to have been forced to pay for a visa on entering Bolivia, despite Bulgaria being part of the EU since 2007. “We were treated the same as someone from Burkina Faso!” they announced in indignation. At one point in the car, they had screamed for the car to stop, as if their life was in danger. They had spotted an ostrich. (Well, it’s called a nandú.) So we had to drive back to see it. In San Pedro, they immediately signed on to a morning tour to see the geysers (“smaller than we had thought”), an afternoon tour to see the Moon Valley (basically the landscape that we had seen on entering the town), and another full-day tour to the Chilean salt flats (after our three-day tour of the Bolivian salt flats). I was exhausted just thinking about it all.

My main reason for coming to San Pedro de Atacama was to see the stars. But it was raining. In the driest place in the world. (The guy in one of the agencies said that he could still show me “a pretty cool time”, but I decided instead on an early night and a bus ticket to leave the next day.)

My next stop was Copiapó (on a day bus which nonetheless had me surrounded by eleven snoring men the entire journey), internationally known as the site of the mining rescue of 2010. The Lonely Planet guided me to the “unmissable” Museo Mineralógico which, I can assure you, is very much missable. It’s not so much a museum as a big room full of rocks. That said, I became more and more fascinated as I went around examining the displays, and impressed by the wonder of nature to produce such a range of colours, structures, and brilliance. At the end, they even had a meteorite and a cupboard with glow-in-the-dark stones. So I wouldn’t go out of my way to come here if I were you, but if you happen to be in Copiapó, it’s worth a short visit. After just one night, I booked onto a bus to continue on my journey south, arriving at the bus terminal with minutes to spare (having had to run back to pick up my amazing-yet-squashed Panama hat that I had dropped along the way), and then waited an hour for the bus to actually turn up. In the evening, I arrived in La Serena.

Crossing the border

Warning! Apparently animals can come from nowhere

Flat tire number one (and two)

Never miss a photo opp

Jen and Hugo, waiting patiently

The archeological museum in San Pedro de Atacama, also known as ‘umbrella’

The view from the bus from San Pedro de Atacama to Copiapó

Pretty houses in Copiapó

Incessant noise: The sounds of South America

11 July, 2013 By Anna S E Lundberg 2 Comments

South America is not the place to come for peace and tranquility. It’s busy, it’s loud, it’s relentless.

As a backpacker, the first place you’ll notice this is on the bus. Most long-distance buses have films playing more or less continuously throughout the journey, and many have music at the same time. The volume of the TV is just loud enough to be disturbing, but mostly not loud enough to actually hear what they’re saying. Then at the start of the journey, you invariably have someone come on and hand out sweets, or biscuits, or whatever, and give a long spiel about how wonderful this product is and how little it will cost you. Throughout the journey you’ll have more vendors coming on board to sell their wares, waking you from your slumber with their loud voices and boxes that knock into you. On local buses, you instead have the guy at the front shouting “Moche! Moche! Moche!” every time you stop because of traffic or traffic lights, to round up more people from the street who want our destination.

The other day, on a local bus in Asunción, Paraguay, it was a complete circus: Imagine, first, a rusty old bus, rattling along down a busy street. Then of course everyone is talking on their mobile phone. There is at least one screaming baby. Add to this a whole line of vendors getting on at the front, moving down the aisle and off the bus at the back in an endless carousel of noise: Chipas, Chipas! Galletas, Galletas! Gaseosas, Gaseosas! (As if planned, the vendors selling cheese buns, biscuits, and soft drinks were followed by others selling toothbrushes and toothpaste. How very responsible.) As a final flourish, put two musicians on board, singing a traditional, and very shouty, style of music as they bash the strings of their guitars. Viewed from the outside, it was quite comical.

Out on the street, the main noise that I’m not used to at home is the honking. I don’t think I’ve ever used a car horn but here it’s part of normal driving protocol. I think the worst was in Piura in northern Peru, where the honking was just outside the hotel window and continued throughout the night. Cars will honk at each other for no apparent reason, while taxis will honk at pedestrians, especially at you since you’re a tourist, and they assume you must want a taxi since you’re walking down the street, or standing at the traffic lights. (On the plus side, this means that you can always get a taxi when you need one.) The other noise you have on the street, if you’re a girl, is the “Hola, qué tal?” but, worse, the kissing, or sometimes hissing, noises that the men let out as you pass. You just have to smile and walk on.

Of course the main experience as a backpacker is the hostel. Although I started very luxuriously with private rooms in Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, as I entered the more expensive Chile, Argentina, and, surprisingly, Paraguay, I’ve been staying in dorms for the same price. Whether you go to bed early or stay out late, whether you set an alarm or plan to have a lie in, you’re bound to be on a different schedule to at least someone in your dorm. Especially when there are 14 of you, as the other night in Asunción, Paraguay. (I’m reminded of the ultimate nightmare of a room, The Bunker in Verbier, where there were 30 of us in triple bunk beds, drunk people returning from clubs, couples getting busy under the sheets, and one girl letting out a blood-curdling scream in the middle of the night.) But the most hilariously hellish night was in Mendoza, Argentina. I was already sleeping badly, frustrated at having just had my iPhone stolen, in a hostel where the bar played loud music until 6am. When I went to bed at 11pm, there were two girls already in bed – surprising, I thought, for a Saturday night, but perhaps they had an early bus the next day like me. I struggled to doze off, each time jolted out of near-sleep by one of the girls’ phones receiving messages. Soon thereafter, my instincts were proven to be correct as an alarm rang (I had to shine my torch in one girl’s face so that she would wake up and turn it off) and the two girls proceeded to get out of bed, turn all the lights on, and get dressed and made up to go out, all the while chatting loudly. Seemingly minutes after, they returned, again turning all the lights on to get ready for bed. And less than an hour later, my alarm clock rang and it was time to get up for my bus. (By the way, I sleep with ear plugs and a blindfold when I’m in hostels. Someone should invent dorm-strength sleeping aids.)

There are, of course, exceptions: sailing between the Galapagos Islands, hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, and standing in the middle of the Uyuni salt flats, we were in a magical place, far removed from the bustle of everyday life. And the trick, I think, is to find moments away from the noise around you, moments of inner silence. I know I sound like an old woman (in one comment on Trip Adviser, some young stud asked, “Why are people complaining about the noise in their reviews? Who comes to hostels to sleep?), but I get grumpy without my beauty sleep, and I enjoy some quiet time to relax or reflect on my experiences.

In any case, the sounds of a city in a foreign land are all part of the excitement of people watching, seeing life go by, experiencing the energy of a place, in a different part of the world. Take those sounds away and you lose the essence of the place. But, still, what I wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep…

In a dorm of 14 beds, you’re unlikely to get a lot of quality sleep…

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Out of the rain and into the wind: Travelling from La Paz to Uyuni

7 July, 2013 By Anna S E Lundberg 2 Comments

On the morning when I was leaving La Paz, the sun finally came out and it was actually quite warm. Muchas gracias, La Paz, you really didn’t want me to like you, did you? The highlight of my two days in the city was getting a free chocolate ball (okay, two) at the Café del Mundo, run by Swedish Elin – a nice little taste of home. And I also picked up an amulet at the witches’ market for good luck in work, travel and love; she added health for good measure but unfortunately that’s already fallen off. Oops.

I turned up to the bus terminal at 9.55am and at 10am I was on a bus, heading to Oruro. In that sense, buses in South America are actually very efficient. I was glad I was on the warm bus as outside it grew colder. We passed houses made of adobe brick but with snow on their thatched roofs, quite a strange sight. Even more strange, on the other side, a castle with a turret and a rainbow slide. Random. At one point we stopped for a toilet break in the middle of nowhere – for men, of course, it’s no problem, they just face away from the bus; but the women managed to protect their modesty equally well, their long skirts hiding everything from view as they squatted right in front of the bus. I was wearing jeans. I stayed on board.

In Oruro, I awaited the train to go down to Uyuni. The police were checking everyone’s bags at the entrance to the platform, but I walked through the middle of the queue to find the baños and nobody stopped me. How reassuring. The entertainment on board: a local country singer first sitting on the stage on a bale of hay and then riding a horse in time to the music: “Un viejo joven, un joven viejo”… Very catchy. More entertainment came from the American students sitting behind me, discussing the seven wonders of the world which, I grant you, is a complicated and often contentious topic, given the many different versions of lists that exist:
“What’s it called, Stone…?”
“Stonehenge?”
“Yeah, where is that?”
“It’s, like, in Scotland.”*
Outside, I could see flamingos on both sides, a double rainbow on the left (“Wow, double rainbow!”) and a golden sunset on the right. Then it was dark.

So, Uyuni: on my first day, it was quite warm and sunny, which was a nice change after grey and rainy La Paz. But it was incredibly windy, which soon caused problems in the form of a partial and then total power cut. What do you do in a city where there’s nothing to do when there is no electricity, the wifi not working in the hostel and Internet cafés in town not working either? I went for lunch in a dark restaurant and wandered aimlessly around town. There weren’t any cafés where I could sit with a nice latte either, darling. And without the electric showers, of course, were cold. Uyuni seems to exist for tourists for one sole reason, which is to send us off on 4WD tours of the salt flats. And based on advice from Lonely Planet and online forums, I hadn’t booked the tour in advance and instead waited to talk to the agencies in person. Great idea, except that I found the good tour agencies were fully booked!
“No, please, I can’t stay here another two days!”
Thankfully, my chosen agency took pity on me and somehow managed to fill a second jeep so I could head out the next day. Details of the tour itself next time!

*For the record, Stonehenge is actually, like, in Wiltshire, which is, like, almost as far from Scotland as you can get.

I managed to buy my train ticket already in La Paz; although I arrived at the office in the far end of town at 12.15 and they were closed for lunch 12-2.30pm. I waited with an Apfelstrudel and cappuccino in a nearby Austrian café, which wasn’t so bad.
Flamingos on the left
Flamingos on the right

Uyuni looks quite nice in this picture, doesn’t it?

But most of it looks like this…

Arriving in La Paz: Coca, cocaine and Coca-Cola

2 July, 2013 By Anna S E Lundberg Leave a Comment

Fun facts about La Paz:
1) There is no heating. Anywhere.
2) You can eat a four-course meal for 3 USD.
3) They have actual zebras on the zebra crossing.

La Paz did not exactly show me its best side – it was very cold and wet, which made it super slippery on the steep cobbled streets and prevented me from doing any outdoor activities. But I did go to the Coca Museum.

At high altitudes in particular, coca leaves are standard fare here. Locals will chew the leaves, as for example on both the Inca Trail in Peru and on the salt plains of Bolivia, where our guides carried a big bag from which they would pick leaves as you would crisps. The first evidence of chewing coca leaves has been found in mummies from 2,500 BC. When the Spaniards came, the Catholic Church forbade the habit. But when they discovered how much more productive the miners would be with the effects of coca, they allowed it again, though subjecting it to a tax and restricting its distribution.

Experiments have shown that coca reduces the amount of oxygen that your body consumes, while it made the miners mentally more willing to go down into the mines, and able to work longer without feeling exhausted. (Still today, boys in towns like Potosí, one of the highest cities in the world, will start working in the mines in their early teens, and rarely make it to middle age.) It was used commercially in the form of coca wine and various tonics, with posters advocating its stimulating effects and various health benefits. One of those products, of course, was Coca-Cola. These products became illegal when the addictive and apparently mentally retarding effects of cocaine were made public.

The locals tout the nutritional benefits of coca: the leaves contain high levels of calcium, potassium, and phosphorous, as well as vitamins, protein and fibre. Cocaine, of course, is a different matter. The museum in La Paz brings the effects of cocaine addiction to life with a mannequin of an 80s drug addict and various photos of its victims. But coca leaves, although illegal outside of South America, gives nothing like the high of cocaine – the leaves have less than 1% of the active alkaloid. Inside South America, coca can be found everywhere – in the form of leaves to chew (beware, it makes your teeth green), tea (weaker and more palatable, a standard part of any hotel breakfast), or sweets (even tastier when the first ingredient is sugar). You just have to remember to use it all up before you take that plane back home…

A welcoming sight: “Thieves who are caught will be burned”

Zebras on the zebra crossing (not, in fact, real wild animals but students dressed up as part of the government’s education programme to increase pedestrian safety on the road)

The small but interesting Coca Museum

Shivering on top of the Iglesia de San Francisco