Tarabuco market

On Sundays the people of Tarabuco, a little pueblo outside of Sucre, get together and host a market, for local people and tourists. I believe the market was originally just for other locals, but tourists eventually got word of the artisanal crafts sold there. So we come now, looking at the colorful aguayos (or awayus), the pirated movies, the stalls of flipflops, and the Yamparaz people moving around their village, interacting with tourists and neighbors.

While the tourists come into town via minibuses from Sucre, the locals walk to town with their burros or pile into old trucks, if they do not live in Tarabuco already.

We arrived after an hour and a half trip from Sucre, packed in like Sardines with Bolivians. The bus dropped us off on the edge of town and we walked to the central plaza, the beginning of the open air market.  The clock tower is the most recognizable structure in town. In the photo, an Aymaran/Yampara/Bolivian woman carries her child in her aguayo, which is a common sight throughout Bolivia.In fact, parenting (And therefore carrying babies) is communal. I read an interesting article by an Australian expat in Bolivia about the aguayos.

In the plaza is a nightmarish statue memorializing a battle between the indigenous people and the Spanish in 1814 and another in 1816. Seriously, the statues are twice the size of the average Bolivian at least, so the scary Andean warrior is around 10 feet tall.

  Seriously, the guy has ripped the soldier‘s heart out and is eating it. The plaque beside it tells the story of the battle. Basically, from what I can tell, the Spanish routed toe indigenous armies in 1814, a “humiliating” defeat that also killed their leader, a poet and high-ranking officer. Immediately after, the indigenous tribes reorganized into a different military design and used stronger, harsher techniques. In 1816 they had their revenge: the tribes won the “most bloody battle” in Bolivia against the “green Spaniards.” The memorial is to the “so-called Sunkoo Mikus,” who I suppose were a fierce tribe that was a part of the coalition. Their ferocity made a huge difference on the battle field, and after they ate the hearts of their dead enemies.

Cheery. So. Moving on.

We split a plate of food for just 10 bolivianos in a courtyard of a building in the marketplace. It was a leap of faith, because I wasn‘t entirely sure how well the chicken had been cooked. My fork was dirty too, but I suppose that‘s like in a developing region. Earlier in the morning we had attempted to drink milk we purchased as the Sucre central market. Overnight it had turned sour, so we were a bit wary. The chicken and rice concoction was pretty good and darn cheap.

I hadn‘t decided if I wanted to buy anything from Bolivia yet (we are limiting ourselves to one souvenir every other country), or if I wanted to wait until La Paz. But the aguayos were so beautiful with the bright, hot pinks, and the prices were so good, I went ahead and bargained.

We bought a medium aguayo for 48 bolivianos. I think we will use it as a blanket on long bus trips. It is handwoven, sturdy, and very durable. Bolivians use these for years to carry heavy loads on their backs. It was lovely, but not exactly what I had in mind for myself. On our way out of the market sprawl, I saw a beautiful hot pink with embroidered flowers and laced edging. It was exactly what I had in mind. The owner of the stall saw me looking, and gave me a price of 170 bolivianos. We didn‘t have that much money. In fact, we desperately needed an ATM.

He told me to name a price.

“70,” I told him. “I cannot go higher than 70. We don‘t have enough money to buy that and go home on the bus.”

“130,” he offered. He kept casting glances at another stall, where an older woman watched us. I realized he was a friend or family member that just happened to be manning the stall while the real owner was taking a break.

“I‘m sorry, but I can‘t do much than 70. We need a bus back home.”

“100. Can you do 100?”

I did feel sort of bad. I wasn‘t even sure I wanted to buy another item, let alone something that expensive. But I was in the midst of it, and the aguayo was so pretty.

“83, my final offer,” he told me.

“I can do 80. That leaves us 20 for the bus tickets,” I offered.

“Deal.”

So I walked away with the prettiest aguayo I saw for a really good price–probably local price, not gringo price. Now I just need to come up with a real use for it. I think the locals might laugh at me if I walked out of the hostel wearing it, carrying groceries or something on my back. So maybe I will use it to carry my own baby in, back in the States when I‘m a mother (Infants go in a sling on your front, toddler sit upright on your back). I will probably get some odd looks there too. For now, though, I am happy to use it as a blanket on my hostel bunkbed.

 

Logistics for getting to/from Tarabuco

1. Take the city bus (line 7 from Mercado Central) to San Antonio. It is a small market area along the large road.
2. Take a local microbus from the street corner to Tarabuco. One way is 10 bolivianos. They do not leave until they are full.
3. Arrive at the edge of town, at the top of a hill. Walk down to the central plaza.
4. To return, you will find the same microbuses one block from the plaza, outside a government and tourist building. There are public bathrooms nearby also. 10 bolivianos again, to the same street corner in Sucre.
5. To get to the center of town, take any bus that is going to Mercado Central.

Augustino OldoiniWikipedia: Augustino Oldoini was an Italian Jesuit teacher, church historian and bibliographer. →

Casa de Libertad

Along the main plaza in town are the oldest buildings in Sucre. One of the more striking is the Casa de Libertad.

The house of liberty was built by the Jesuits in 1592-1621 as a university for the Spanish and Charcas living in Sucre. It was one of the oldest universities in South America, and because of the center of learning that was cultivated by the Jesuits, it became the center of political philosophy and debate for the country two hundred years later. As a side note, although I am not well-read in the history/politics of colonial Latin America, I do believe the Jesuits were one of the better religious groups that went over during colonization. They were one of the only groups to live among the natives and learn the indigenous languages. To the Jesuits, Christianity was Christianity, not Spanish culture.

While the Spanish made a lot of wealth off the backs of indigenous people working in the silver mines, their hold on Bolivia was never as strong as other South American countries. Throughout their time presiding over the Andes, there were many revolts. In early years, the region of Bolivia was closely tied with Peru, and during the first full-fledged rebellion by criollos and mestizos in 1809, Bolivia and Peru worked together, calling the region Upper Peru. The next sevenish years are full of complicated manueverings between royal groups, rebel groups, and others through what is modern Peru, Bolivia, and Argentina.

In 1825 all political delegates met in Casa del Libertad to decide whether to join Upper Peru to Peru, to join with Argentina, or to be an independent country. Apparently General Simon Bolivar, who orchestrated most of the military efforts in Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia, was not convinced this country could govern itself. So after voting to be independent, they named the country after him, to placate him: Bolivia.

One of the more striking characters we were introduced to during the tour was Juana Azurduy de Padilla. Born in 1780 to an indigenous mother and Spanish father, she was mestizo. When she was orphaned at 12 she went to live at a convent with the plan of becoming a nun. She was expelled when she was 17 because she rebelled too much.

She and her criollo husband, Manuel Padilla, had four sons together, but when the revolution broke out in 1809 he joined the fighting. The Spanish military began hunting him down, and Juana brought their two sons and two daughters along to the guerilla group. She fought as well. A year or two into fighting, they decided it would be safer if they split up. Juana had to run, hiding in the wilderness with their children from the Spanish. Her sons died, either as a result of wounds from Spanish soldiers or from sickness. Her daughters eventually died of dehydration before they could reach a military camp.

After that, her husband became ruthless in his battles with the Spanish, and she reunited with him. She became pregnant, and gave birth to a daughter on the edge of the battlefield. When she thought she had recovered from childbirth, she grabbed a saber and went back to fight. In a battle in 1816 she was wounded, and her husband was killed while going to rescue her. The Spanish took his body, beheaded him, and displayed the pieces in a nearby city. It took six months for Juana to recover his body. Now widowed, Juana took up more leadership, at one point commanding 6,000 men. She eventually fought in Argentina under an Argentinian general. When the wars in 1825, she returned to Sucre, Bolivia with her daughter. No one remember her, her husband, or what they had done. She died in 1862, poor and alone.

But now Juana and Manuel are considered folk heroes and patriots. Their ashes are held in a box in the Casa de Libertad, probably not far from where she was born over 200 years ago, with a Bolivian and Argentine flag draped over them.

 

Dinosaur footprints!

Sauropods and titanosaurs and ceratops, oh my!

One of the more unique attractions near Sucre is Parque de Cretacico, a museum for dinosaur footprints.  They also have some pretty cool, life-size models of dinosaurs that lived in this area during the Cretaceous period.

Back in 1998 a cement company, Francesa, which operates primarily on the edge of town, discovered a wall of dinosaur footprints in their quarry. So they left that area of the quarry and built a museum. When you arrive to visit the museum, the first thing you see is the cement plant and their trucks, then the entrance to the museum. The park is still owned by Francesa, which was kind of interesting. I had never visited a museum owned by an industrial company before.

Prices for extranjeros are 30 bolivianos apiece, with 5 extra bolivianos if you want to take photos. If you plan to visit, we strongly suggest arriving between 11:50 am and 1:15 pm. And to wear close-toed shoes. I wore sandals and almost did not get to walk down to the wall. At noon and at 1 pm there is a guided English/Spanish tour down into the quarry by the wall, but only at those times. If you miss the tour, you are relegated to an obersavtion deck with binoculars, and the price to enter the park remains the same. Our backpacker friends who arrived too late for the tour were not pleased with their visit to the museum, but those of us that went on the tour were moderately excited about the trip.

We were able to within an arm‘s length of the wall, which was kinda cool. I’m not a huge dinosaur person, but the 5,055 footprints up the wall were interesting.

Many, many years ago this area was flat and muddy, due to being next to a lake, and a few animals tracked through the mud while getting to the lake. As the Andes mountains formed (due to the shifting tetonic plates and such) the land bunched up like an accordion, so now the flat land is a vertical slab of rock.

Other attractions as the museum include a BBC documentary on dinosaurs, the models, a children‘s play area, a replica of a skeleton, and information about ancient geological sites and tetonic plates. They also have a cafe on a viewing platform. The drinks were fairly priced, but the portions were quite small for the prices they charged.

We bumped into a Norwegian couple that was staying at the same hostel. Vegard and Caroline also enjoyed the park, but had a few unmet expectations, like us. All in all, the four of us agreed that it was interesting and worth our money, but not quite as exciting as we had anticipated. We did just look at a rock wall in a quarry for an hour. At the cafe, though, they told us about Norway, Norwegian food, and how difficult it is to learn English when a Scandinavian language is your native tongue. The grammar, it seems, is similar, and due to the fact that Norway never dubs American movies, English is present throughout Norway, making it easier to learn.

We thought that if we brought children along, they would‘ve loved the experience of the models and play area. The wall, for kids, probably not so much. It involved hiking up and down a steep hill, which is a little hard in high-ish altitude (9,000 ft or 2,800 m). 

Last tips:

• To get to the museum you can catch the dinosaur bus at plaza 25 de Mayo, which is designed for tourists. Or you can get the local city bus, #4 or #12 work just as well. It is about a 40 drive from city center, depending on traffic. The city bus is 1,50 bolivianos per person (so a total of 3 for a couple)
• The city bus dumps you off outside the Francesa plant, which was confusing for us because we did not know about the ownership. Just go into the white gates and walk toward any signs you find regarding the park/museum, and you should be fine
• Wear closed-toed shoes
• The earlier in the day you return, the less likely you will be stuck in traffic for an hour (like we were)
• Enjoy the view of Sucre as you travel along the hills at the edge of town!

The White City

We arrived in Sucre, Bolivia about a week ago now. Our first impressions were a little worrisome–we showed up at 5:00 am at a filthy bus station with broken down buses.

We split a taxi with our Swedish friend, and the driver charged us 15 Bolivianos per person from the terminal to near city center, which now we learned is close to double a fair price. Oh well. We were carrying luggage and it was still dark out. Jordan and I planned to work at a hostel in Sucre, and we showed up a few days early due to bus schedules and the election day.

Sucre, with a population of near 300,000, is the capital of Bolivia. Everyone knows La Paz, which houses most of the government buildings, but Sucre is the official capital. Because of its colonial architecture, its nickname is the White City. At 9,000 feet above sea level, it took us several days to adjust to the oxygen. We had no other symptoms of altitude sickness because of our Uyuni trip, but it did take a while to stop huffing and puffing after half a block walking.

Sucre’s city center is primarily made of white buildings built between 1538, when the city was founded by the Spanish, to the ealy 1700s. Their main plaza has many trees and flowers in the grass, something I find very attractive. Although Bolivia is known for being a poor country (and it is cheap for travelers), I haven’t seen much abject poverty, at least in cities. The median standard of living is obviously much lower than in the States, but in the cities I haven’t seen a lot of tin shacks with dirt floors and people out of work. I think the current president (the first indigenous president, not mestizo) has worked hard to improve the quality of life among other indigenous tribes in Bolivia, who also are usually the poorest.

Sucre was founded to be near the silver mines. Because of its proximity it was wealthy in the past. Education centers sprung up in the region, which made it a perfect place to debate the region‘s liberty. Sucre’s motto is “Where Bolivia was born,” for the political elite of the region did indeed declare it a sovereign country (separate not only from Spain, but also Argentina and Peru) and create the capital in Sucre.

(Gorgeous view, but an NGO with a electrical bent would be welcome in most of Sout America. Those power lines are everywhere and have to be fire hazards).

Now Sucre is a bustling town always filled with backpackers. It is the prettiest city in Bolivia and choc full of language schools. I can‘t count the number of hostels and Spanish schools in the area. There are even a couple of Quechua language schools, too. I think I’ll stick with Spanish, though the idea of learning an indigenous language does sound interesting. Bolivia probably has the most fully indigenous people groups of all of South America, and the most common language among them is Quechua. You can easily tell the indigenous people from the others because of their short stature and the women’s tradition dress.

Fun fact: In Star Wars IV: A New Hope, a character speaks to Han Solo in Quechua. Supposedly the person in charge of linguistics was told to come up with a language, and he balked, saying there were plenty of wonderful real languages than few have ever heard of, suc has Quechua. So he used a simplified version of that instead.

Sucre, more than most cities in Bolivia, has a thriving arts culture. We attended a Barroque festival of music during Holy Week at the Casa de Libertad. They brought in musicians from all around the country, and played a variety of famous composers (Bach and Vivaldi–two of my favorites!) and music the Jesuits composed in Sucre during the Barroque period. That was very interesting. We listened to compositions written in the 1600s by Jesuit priests and teachers in Casa de Libertad, which originally was a university in the 17th century.

Yes, the biggest portrait in the middle is of Simon Bolivar, whom the country is named for.

We plan to stay in Sucre for a month, working at a hostel in the night and morning, and spending the afternoons in Spanish lessons or visitng the city. So far, this place looks like a great break. There are interesting sites just outside of town and with a wealth of tutors and teachers, Spanish lessons run cheap (35 to 50 B per hour). The only problem is that internet tends to be bad here. In fact, we were told, “The internet is bad here. Welcome to Bolivia.” But we will manage with runs to internet cafes and searching out the best times of night for wifi. All of our planning and communication with home is done via internet, so it‘s a little important to us.

We‘ve been in town a week so far and have been very pleased with the area. If you’re visiting Bolivia, Sucre should be high on your list

Salar de Uyuni tour: Days 2 and 3

Day two of the Salar de Uyuni tour is longer than the first day. And there are fewer bathrooms (word to the wise, there).

We left the refugio around 7:30 am and folded ourselves back into the jeep. We played quiet 80s music until everyone woke up. The second day is full of altiplano lakes and volcanoes.

Our first stop was the arbol de piedra, or the stone tree. Throughout the journey through the desert we saw many odd rock formations, all a result of volcanic eruptions hundreds of years ago. These rocks don‘t look volcanic, but they definitely look strange, random grouping off them out in the middle of the dirt or grass. This one is particularly fun to climb and take pictures of.

At this point, I really needed to use the bathroom, and I was in luck. A tiny adobe shack with a toilet that had broken probably in the 80s was behind a group of rocks, and I made use of it. Thankfully Jordan and I had bought another roll of paper with the 10 liters of water back in San Pedro (that is an absolute must). This is also the last bathroom available for hours.

Next up were some more, beautiful altiplano lakes. The Altiplano is the high Andean plateau that we traveled through.

Not to be ungrateful for the view, but after a while they all start to look the same. The flamingos, though, perk up the place. Jordan was able to snag a photo of one flying. Have you ever seen a flamingo fly? It‘s the weirdest thing I‘ve seen in a long while. Jordan made a meme for the heck of it, because it amused him so much.

We drove probably six hours between bathrooms. Like, actual buildings with toilets in them, so all three of us girls convinced Gabriel, our driver, to stop by a lovely rock landscape a couple of times that day. I got very good at au natural. I only share this because 1) it is one of the more vivid memories of the trip and 2) anyone thinking about going, just be aware that the altitude wreaks havoc upon your bladder.

Our last stop was a surprise (to me at least), at a industrial/rail place. It does have a toilet inside a half-constructed building, you just have to ask around for it. They had a few old trains rusting on the rails, and there were about 25 tourists clambering around on them like five-year-olds at a jungle gym.

We tried to do a few movie-stunt poses for the fun of it.

After singing to 80s music for several hours (including our driver. He was a very stoic, taciturn man but I know he enjoyed the music) we arrived at our resting place for the night: a hostel made from salt. The floors are all loose salt, the tables and chairs and walls are all hard, rock salt. Even the bed frame is made of salt. The only area devoid of salt is the bathroom. And here, thankfully, are showers. One good thing about this trip is that the food is great. Even though we‘ve had very basic accomodations (and our driver kept scaring us by stopping and checking under the hood of the jeep) the food is great, both dinners at the remote hostels and lunch in the back of the jeep. It‘s all filling and tasty.

At this salt hostel we bumped into a large group of Asian tourists that were going to opposite direction. Our drivers made the poor decision to give every group a bottle of wine. I was very surprised at the wine, because while acclimatizing to high altitudes one isn‘t supposed to drink alcohol. While our group (and our neighboring group of Germans and Brazilians) could hold their liqour, the Asians couldn‘t. I think they may have been Japanese. It was someone‘s birthday, then someone found another bottle, then they were yelling and singing. Jordan and I were trying to sleep at that point, just across the common room. He had to go out and tell them firmly in Spanish to be quiet, that everyone was trying to sleep. One of the women danced up to him and I think was going to try to kiss him. It was very odd to see a group of people known for their reserve being so obnoxious.

At 4:00 am we rolled out of bed to greet the sunrise at the Salar. This is the most anticipated event of the whole trip. We dozed in the jeep while Gabriel took us out in the middle of nowhere, at the Salar. I wanted more sleep, but the sunrise was gorgeous. The salt sparkled like snow, and we could see nothing but the salt for miles and a few distant mountains.

We goofed around for a while, then headed to breakfast.

Isla de Pescado (or Incahuasi island) is not an island, nor does it have fish. Instead, it is a hill full of cacti shaped like a fish in the center of the salar, or salt flat. It is actually the top of submerged, ancient volcano.

Before we left we had to mess around with all the random flags at the breakfast point. When it rains the water builds up on the salt and reflects the sky and clouds. We didn’t see any of that, but the salt itself is worth seeing.

This salt flat is the largest salt desert in the world, at over 4,000 square miles. It is also about 12,000 feet above sea level. The salt flats used to be a huge lake (more like a sea!) thousands upon thousands of years ago. The salt crust is also highly rich in lithium, so there are companies with extraction rights in some corners of the salar. According to Aymara lore (the indigenous people from the region), the mountains Tunupa, Kusku and Kusina, which surround the Salar, were giant people. Tunupa married Kusku, but Kusku ran away from her with Kusina. Grieving Tunupa started to cry while breast-feeding her son. Her tears mixed with milk and formed the salar.

Because there is nothing by sky and flat land, you can do some pretty fun distortion/depth perception photos. We had a lot of fun with that!

Yes, that was the wine bottle from the night before. And we orchestrated some sort of weird Buddha pose but it ended up pretty cool.

Across the salar, on the far other end (nearest civilization) are the salt piles. an area where salt is dug from the plane into piles weighing a ton each, and left to dry in the sun before transport to a refinery then to our tables.

We ended the trip at the Cementerio de Trenes. The railroad was a huge deal when it came to Bolivia, partially because it is a landlocked country and partially because Bolivia has oodles of natural resources. (Yes, oodles). The trains here have been rusting for around 75 years. It was pretty cool, but because they were falling apart and had sharp, rusted pieces a little dangerous to climb around. We were able to explore the previous days’ trains more.

But Jordan adores trains, so he had a blast. We were also able to check out some interesting graffiti/street art.

At this point our driver told us that it was election day, so no cars were allowed in the city and we would have to carry our bags, jugs of water, and walk about 15-20 minutes to the tour office. That was fantastic news. But we walked and made it. Uyuni isn’t exactly the nicest of towns. I would advice you to leave as soon as possible. Which is what we tried to do. But the buses weren’t running for hours because of elections, so we spent about seven or eight hours just wandering the streets, waiting for an overnight bus to Sucre, Bolivia.

Everyone else was waiting, too. There were about 80 or 90 backpackers stuck in town, which was kind of humorous. We ran into each other repeatedly because everyone was walking in circles, looking for internet. There was not a lot to be had. However, finally, at 10 pm we got on a local overnight but to Sucre. It was the most incomfortable bus we have taken yet. It wasn’t even a semicama, so it didn’t lean back very far. And Bolivians, if you didn’t know, are short. So short that the seats are twice as close to one another in buses. We folded into our seats and tried to sleep. There were a couple of backpackers on the bus with us that were 6’3″ or more, and frankly I have no idea how they even got their legs into the space. The locals that got on the bus late had to stand in the aisle, and the bathroom was broken. It was not fun.

But we survived and made it to Sucre! And now we have a great Salar tour to talk about.

Easter Monday

He is risen!

I had been anticipating Easter for a while, since I was in Catholic South America. Worshipping with people from other nations and languages is one of my favorite things to do– diversity among unity is beautiful. Triniterian living at its best.

South American Catholicism is known for being particularly fervorful and devout, so I was excited to be a part of the Easter celebration in Sucre, Bolivia. Things started off well on Good Friday, when Jordan and I were hanging out at a cafe on the main plaza in town, soaking up some decent internet. We heard music and loud voices, and suddenly a parade came into view.

Lead by several banners, the procession entailed priests, locals, musicians, and life-size ceramic Jesuses. After the banners, the priests held a glass casket of Jesus, bleeding from his side. Locals with woven palm fronds followed, keeping time to the music. Behind the first group of local Bolivians was the military playing brass instruments. More locals, then the police band on horns. They marched around the plaza until they reached the cathedral on the other side, and entered the building.

More stores than normal were closed on Holy Saturday, and mass was a little later than usual on Easter Sunday. Our hostel is in the city center, roughly three or four blocks from Plaza 25 de Mayo. We dressed nicer than we had in a month, probably, and stepped out to walk to church. All the one-way city center roads had been blocked off from cars so foot traffic could get to the churches and cathedral in town.

As we walked to the cathedral, whose mass was at 9 am, we passed by a large group of youth waving balloons and firing some sort of smoke-and-noise-maker in the air, frightening all the pigeons in town. At the front of the line a man wheeling a PA system repeatedly shouted something along the lines of “Christ is risen!” We cut through the plaza to beat them to the cathedral, and entered.

Jordan was fairly nervous about attending mass–it was his first time at mass and listening to Spanish in a formal setting. He is also a good foot taller than most Bolivians, so he sticks out. While I was a little nervous about being one of the few gringos in church (and yes, we stick out. I was in Bolivia for a week before I met a Bolivian man I was shorter/same size of), I have attended mass twice in the States and twice in Nicaragua.

We eased into a pew two-thirds in the back, near a nice Bolivian gentleman that made sure we got programs. Church was not nearly as energetic or packed as we had expected. The service included two traditional dances from six teenagers in typical Bolivian dress: The girls wore their long hair in two braids and wore bright blue skirts, the boys wore white shirts, dark pants rolled up to their knees, and a colorful, striped shawl tied around one shoulder. Their shoes had metal discs sewn on to create noise as they danced, and a few of the other gringos in the service videoed the experience with their phones.

Jordan and I had not expected to take communion at the cathedral, because we are not catholic, but the man on my left side insisted that it did not matter, that we should go ahead. Everyone filed into the main aisle whenever the wished; there were no ushers to assign rows. After receiving the sweetest wine I ever had at the eucharist, the service finished with a benediction. I understood about 30 percent of the sermon and music, and probably would have understand 40 percent if the sound system had been better. On our way out the door we were pleasantly surprised to see roughly 20 foreigners at the cathedral, and I would bet that most of us were there to worship, not to experience Bolivian culture.

Our Easter afternoon was very low-key: I took a nap and listened to a few Easter hymns on my ipod, and we cooked lunch and hunted down some avocados at the local market.

In the end, our Easter experience was not quite what we had expected, but it was wonderful to be inside a church again.

Salar de Uyuni tour: Preparations and Day 1

The easiest, most interesting way to enter Bolivia (especially for Americans) is through a Salar de Uyuni tour. I highly recommend it.

This tourism of remote, southern Bolivia is relatively new. Only in the past ten years have tour agencies offered this 3 day/4 day tour. Not all tour agencies are created equal, especially for this tour. Guide books recommend checking agencies carefully (particularly if you begin your trip in Uyuni, Bolivia rather than San Pedro, Chile). In the past deaths have occurred, usually from drunk tour guides/drivers. As time goes on, companies become more reputable and the trip becomes safer. We had no problem with our trip, but we were careful to look at four or five different tour companies in San Pedro before signing on to one.

As interest in this trip grows, so does the prices. Ten years ago the price was around 60.000 Chilean pesos per person. Now it is regularly 100.000 pesos. It really sucks, but I would say it is still worth it. Particularly as an entry point into Bolivia.  The whole trip is four days, three nights, and roundtrip from San Pedro (where we began) or Uyuni, Bolivia. The most common practice among backpackers, however, is to be dropped off in the other city, finishing the trip at three days, two nights. We chose to “hop off” the tour in Uyuni to continue our travel further in Bolivia.

One reason this is a great entry point in Bolivia (besides the views): ease of entrance and reduced visa for Americans. Normally, Americans have to pay 135 USD reciprocity fee to get a year-long visa into the country. Bolivian customs/border workers also regularly require proof of yellow fever vaccine, departure tickets, and other inconvenient things. However, there is a rarely-advertised 30 day visa for 60 USD. Not many Americans know about it–we didn’t until we arrived in San Pedro and asked around at tour agencies.

We ended up chosing World White Travel and paid 99.000 pesos per person. This hurt. This was over 300 USD between the two of us. But we decided it would be worth it (and I think it was). The cheapest tour agency we found offered the tour at 90.000 per person, the most expensive at 106.000. We decided not to go with the cheapest because they didn’t seem to know all the ins and outs of the Bolivian border crossing. Their 4×4 jeeps were probably liable to break down in the desert as well, which would have been absolutely miserable, if not dangerous.

Our tour bus picked us up at 7:30 am, outside our hostel, and drove us to the border crossing. Because it is winter, high in the mountains, there was snow on the road. We had to wait at the Chilean border for two and a half hours before we knew the pass to the Bolivian side of the border was open. We used that time to get to know our companions: two girls from Spain, one Manhattanite, and one Swede. We got along great and decided to pile into the same 4×4 jeep later that day. We finally got word the border was open around noon, which was great news. If we had to wait any longer, sites on the tour would have to be cut.

The Bolivian customs buildings were high in the volcanoes and mountains, and everything was covered in snow. Because the government workers are used to tons of tourists coming through every day, all they want to see is a passport and US dollars. Even though the posters on the wall declare that entry will be refused without yellow fever vaccination proof and other paperwork, we were never asked for any of it. They really just wanted our money. We told them we would stay in the country 28 days, they took our money, stamped our passport, and we were done. Simple as that.

Then we met our tour guide/driver and loaded all our bags and five liters of water onto the jeep. We were told to bring five liters apiece, which I think was a little excessive. Three probably would’ve been just fine. Six of us piled into the 4×4, and we began out journey. The guides only speak Spanish, but most of us on the trip could understand at least some Spanish. Two were native speakers from Barcelona, so that helped.

At this point we were easily 13,000 feet above sea level. Maybe more. I was popping pills, taking three mgs of dexamethasone a day, and it made a huge difference. For people who get altitude sick, be aware that this tour takes place in high altitude. The lowest we ever got was around 11,000 feet in Uyuni, Bolivia. While altitude affects almost everyone, the majority of the population only feels the slightest of symptoms: shortness of breath, insomnia, increased bathroom needs, and maybe a little fatigue, starting around 8,000 feet (give or take). This is all very manageable and if you’re in that group, don’t worry about the trip, but don’t expect to sleep well. If you’re like me, however, well, take medicine. Because you’ll be in a jeep all day for three days, and no one wants to get puked on. I did well–I didn’t even get a headache and I slept better than the others in my group, probably because of the medicine.

Our first stop along the tour was Laguna Blanca. This was the first of several altiplano lakes in the Bolivian mountains.  It is white because of the minerals suspended in the water. At this point, we were about 14,000 feet high.

This tour, I should add, was cold. I wore pajama bottoms under my jeans, two pairs of socks, a cami, two shirts, a thick scarf, and my jacket. It’s just so high (and the beginning of winter) that the wind bites right through you. Also, the wind is very strong, and our driver said that’s pretty normal throughout the year.

Our jeep, I believe, was the fun one of the trip. Several jeeps all go at the same time, from different companies, so you get to know the other vehicles and their occupants. We always had music playing and we went through Catalan, Swedish, and American music during our three days.

The air was fresh and crisp so high in the mountains, and we could see for miles. As we traveled through the desert, there were no roads, and we all realized how isolated we really were. There is absolutely nothing. I don’t think I’ve ever been that remote before, where the nearest town is several days’ drive away through deserts and around volcanoes. Every once and a while we would pass dilapidated stone shacks. Our driver said they were for the llama farmers that came up in summer. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine living that way. It gave me a greater appreciation for the convenience of living in/by a town in the States, where the grocery store is not far. Even the farmers I know in the States don’t live days from a hospital or food market.

Our second stop, Laguna Verde, is also green for the types of minerals in the water.

The wind was very strong–so strong we had to stay away form the edge of the cliffs. I almost fell off a cliff into a waterfall in Patagonia, and I didn’t want to test my luck again. The sky, as you can see, is an unbelievable color. Our group would just silently stare out the window, up to the clouds, watching the clear sky.

Geyser de Sol Manana was the highest we went on our trip, and is the first day. So not too good for acclimatization. However, we spent at most 45 minutes at the geysers, so anyone that feels sick doesn’t have to stay too long. It is a little over 16,000 feet. South Base Camp of Mt. Everest is 16,900 feet, just for comparison. This is high, especially considering the last time I was at 14,000 feet (Pike’s Peak, Colorado in 2000) I was crying and vomiting. And rolling around on the gift shop floor (okay, okay, I was 10. Give me a break).

We quickly moved along (everyone was out of breath just hiking fifteen feet away from the car) and headed to Laguna Colorada. This is the third colorful lake in the mountains, and by far the most striking. In the summer it is swamped with flamingos.

It was our first time to see a red/pink lake before, and wow, it was breathtaking. We really enjoyed our time out there, even though we were panting walking uphill.

Our refugio, where we would spend the first night, was just 10 minutes drive from this lake. This whole area is a nature reserve, and the only lodging places are very, very basic. The building is built from adobe and has no showers or heating. It only has electricity for two hours a day, when they fire up the generator. And it gets cold overnight, without heating. We ate great Bolivian food, played uno, and when the electricity went out burrowed under our covers and tried to sleep. Before sleep, Jordan went out to get some photos of the Southern hemisphere’s stars.

He did a really good job, I thought, and was able to capture the nearby volcanoes as well. Those buildings are the refugio and the outbuildings.

Isn’t nature beautiful?