Copacabana, Bolivia

Well, I didn’t quite rest as much as I had planned. But what a stunning place.

I arrived early Tuesday afternoon and headed to a place I was recommended by some friends whilst touring Salar de Uyuni - Hostel La Cúpula. I took a gamble on them having a cancellation as they are usually booked out, and met an English guy at reception trying to do the same. Luckily I was able to get a room, and it was probably one of the best they had. A single suite, with another room with a hammock, with this view:

I was initially going to spend one night here and one night on Isla del Sol, but after seeing how beautiful this place was, I opted to stay there for 2 nights and instead spent all of Wednesday at Isla del Sol.

The next morning at the boat harbour, I bumped into Matt (the English guy I met at the Hostel reception), so we hopped on the same boat to Isla del Sol.

Travel seems to have a funny way of leading your path into the same people. Matt and I were keen on hiking the length of the island from North to South, and I just happened to bump into Mike before begun the hike. I met Mike at my hostel in La Paz, and he was travelling with a few girls who didn’t fancy it. So Matt, Mike and I set off.

Knowing that we had to be at the boat harbour on the south of the island by 3:30pm to get back to Copacabana, we were told we had barely enough time to complete the trek. It was fairly difficult on it’s own, with plenty of uphill struggles scattered along the way. The scenery was out of this world though. You quickly forget that you’re looking at a lake, it’s so huge you just naturally assume it’s the ocean. But you’re 3,800m above the sea level. The water looks unlike anything I’ve seen - it’s incredibly smooth and a such a rich shade of blue you think it’s been edited. On top of that, in the distance you have an incredible backdrop of snow capped mountains. The pictures below barely do it justice.

We ended up smashing the trek, exhausted but making it with an hour or so to spare. Our bodies were aching from the waist down, and we were covered it in dust. But the sense of achievement made the beers afterwards all the more sweeter.

Bolivia hasn't been the easiest country to travel through. There have been many difficulties (some legitimate, some "first world problems") faced since arriving in Santa Cruz - the cold, the altitude, the language, the always unpredictable bus and plane rides, the bad coffee, the shitty hostels. But it's also part of Bolivia's beauty. If you can put up with all of this, and you should, you're treated to an incredibly interesting, cultural, and naturally beautiful country. And I'm glad I did. 

La Paz, Bolivia

After having that well deserved hot shower, I headed into the city to replace the pants that I split in the Salt Flats.

I’d booked my first night in La Paz at the Wild Rover Hostel with Will and Klaus, knowing that one night on the booze would be enough for me. Renowned as a party hostel, I got what was expected - full of Brits and Australians, everyone getting wasted and wanting to visit the infamous cocaine bar, Route 36. I don’t do drugs, but went along for the experience anyway.

The next day I moved hostels and met up with Grace from Couchsurfing. We took the cable car (recently introduced to La Paz in 2014) up to El Alto, a neighbourhood perched high upon the outskirts of La Paz which has a beautiful view of the city.

El Alto. A poor neighbourhood, but with a fantastic view of La Paz.

In La Paz I was lucky enough to make friends with a couple of locals, which for me always makes the experience of a city much more genuine and enjoyable. Seneiya took me out on Sunday to try the Sopa de Mani (a traditional Bolivian soup), and in the afternoon I met up with Brayan to go on a mini food tour of the streets of La Paz. Having someone from the city was the only way I was going to try any of the sketchy looking street foods.

Most people visiting La Paz make sure not to miss one thing - Death Road. It’s a 62 kilometre downhill ride, starting at 4,700m above sea level linking La Paz to Coroico. As the name suggests, it’s an incredibly dangerous road and although the numbers have dropped significantly in recent years, a 2006 estimate stated that 200 to 300 travellers died every year.

I don't think Death Road is the kind of experience you want to hunt around for the cheapest price, so I went with a company which came highly recommended - Gravity. Before beginning the downhill portion of the ride, our guide gave us the choice of attempting a 30 minute uphill ride or taking the bus. Of course all the guys in the group said yes, not having any clue how hard it really is to ride uphill at 3,500m above sea level.

Playing competitive sport for my whole life, naturally I wanted to win, so I gunned it up the first hill... And was completely exhausted. I've never been so desperate for oxygen in my life, it felt like I was drowning. I spent the next 20 minutes gasping for air, trying to recover and yet still climb the remaining hills. Eventually I made it to the end where I devoured a sandwich and Powerade in seconds. 

As the ride went on I became more comfortable with the bike and the conditions, so by the end of it I was flying around the corners. It felt safe enough, although in the back of my mind I always felt I was one unlucky accident away from a disaster.

Our bus, carefully making it's way around Death Road

With some energy left in the tank, I spotted another activity which would get my heart going - Urban Rush. It's a 50m descent from the 17th floor of Hotel Presidente, and it was so good I did it twice.

By Thursday my body had almost given up on me, and compounded with the effects of altitude, I spent all day in bed.

On Friday I took a day tour to Chacaltaya and Valle de la Luna. A minibus picked us up in the morning (late as they had to change a tyre), and proceeded to take us on a very dangerous looking road (not unlike Death Road) and stopped 200m short of the summit. Although it was only a 200m walk to the summit, at 5,421m above sea level you were pretty much limited to a slow walk to avoid passing out. The view at the top however was stunning and well worth the effort.

At the summit of Chacaltaya. Huayna Potosí in the background.

I woke up on Sunday short of sleep and nursing a slight hangover (thanks to a cool party at Seneiya’s friend’s house). But there were a few more things I wanted to check out in La Paz, so I met up with Brayan to check out the El Alto markets - one of the world’s biggest markets where you can find literally everything. From brand new cars to strange pets, clothes, food and electronics. In the evening we went to see the Cholitas wrestling - a cheesy touristic event where the traditional Bolivian women have it out inside a boxing ring. Still, it was good for a laugh.

In between all of this, much of my time was spent people watching in front of the San Francisco church over a fresh juice from the Mercado Lanza. The markets are a fantastic place to visit for fresh snacks and produce at incredibly cheap prices, and it's actually one of the reasons why franchises such as McDonalds have failed to have an impact in Bolivia.

For my last day in La Paz I had planned a tour to see the ancient Inca ruins of Tiwanaku. Although like I’ve said before, things in Bolivia don’t always go to plan and for some reason the tour bus never showed up. But considering the amount things I’ve squeezed into the past week or so, a day’s rest is not a bad thing. Tomorrow I’ll finally leave this exciting, yet exhausting city for Copacabana and a much needed change of pace.

Warning! The gallery below contains an image of dead llamas - supposedly good luck for the sellers at the Witches Markets.

Uyuni, Bolivia

Bolivia keeps on throwing more curveballs, yet I’m becoming more and more attracted to it.

Thinking we were taking the easy way out by flying to La Paz, it ended up being the most nervous two flights of my life. I don’t know if it was because we were flying over huge mountain ranges, or the fact that they were such short flights - but they had some of the most violent turbulence I’ve ever experienced. It appeared to be the norm for the airline staff and locals flying, although Will and I exchanged a few pale looks and nervous laughs as the plane threw us around during takeoff for each flight.

But we made it in one piece. We met up with Klaus at the airport and, walking past a couple of tourists hooked up to oxygen masks (we were now at 3,650m above sea level), we grabbed our bags and took a taxi to the hostel.

Having only one day in La Paz before heading to Uyuni, we took the opportunity to go on a walking city tour. Although probably too quick, it was a good introduction to what La Paz has to offer. We visited the infamous San Pedro Prison (made famous by the book “Marching Powder”, which seems to be the book of choice for all tourists visiting South America), the Witches Market (where every stall you walk past has a couple of dead baby llama’s hanging up for “good luck”), and a couple of historical churches and plazas.

It was then time to catch our overnight bus to Uyuni, and begin our tour of the famous Salar de Uyuni. Spanning 10,582 square kilometres, Salar de Uyuni is the world’s largest salt flat. It is located in in Potosí in southwest Bolivia, near the crest of the Andes and is at an elevation of 3,656 metres above sea level.

Having never taken a bus in Bolivia before (but hearing plenty about it), we opted for the Cama (most comfortable) option. It was all well and good until around midnight where we were swapped into a far worse bus for no apparent reason. Not only that, we proceeded to take an off-road route, constantly being thrown up out of our seats for the following 6 hours. Needless to say I got very little, if any sleep that night.

Pulling in to Uyuni at around 6AM, we immediately felt the cold and were reluctant to get off the bus. We tried to stay on for as long as we could, but for fear of losing our bags we soon hopped off. The -4˚C swept straight through all four layers of clothes. Losing feeling in our fingers and toes, we walked around the city in hope of finding a place to drop our bags and warm up. Of course at this time of the morning, nothing was open and so we resorted to playing with the stray dogs to keep the cold at bay.

At 7:30 we were able to check in with the Red Planet Tours agency and headed off for breakfast. Then at 11AM we begun our 3 day tour of Salar de Uyuni.

Being stuck in a car for days on end with the same people can be great fun or a horrible experience. Luckily, we had a great group of solo travellers and we all got along really well. After loading up the 4X4, we begun day 1 which included visiting an old train graveyard, a salt miner’s workshop, and the famous salt flat itself. We were then treated to lunch at a salt hotel.

The Salar is covered by a few meters of salt crust, which has an extraordinary flatness. The large area, clear skies, and the flatness of the surface make it an ideal object for taking notoriously touristic photos like this:

We spent the night at a salt hostel in the small village of Atulcha. Even though we had about 4 layers of clothes and 4 blankets each, it was still unbelievably freezing. Somehow, I managed to have a decent nights sleep. The worst fear before falling asleep was having to wake up during the night to use the toilet!

Day 2 was long. Getting up at 6AM, we spent the whole day visiting various volcanoes, lagoons, huge rock formations and animals (llamas and flamingos to name a few). Although exhausting, the landscapes we drove through were incredible, and at times you could be forgiven for thinking you were on Mars.

Afterwards we were taken to the top of a huge volcano called Sol de Mañana (5,000 metres above sea level) where we stepped around the crater to see bubbling pots of mud caused by volcanic activity (the mud was over 100˚C). We were then taken to our accommodation for the night, a small village called Polcas which sits at an altitude of 4,300m above sea level.

The highlight of the tour for me was saved until after dinner. After being treated to some spaghetti bolognese and a glass of Bolivian red wine, we walked outside in the dark to a nearby natural hot spring (caused by the previously mentioned volcano). Being so incredibly cold outside, we quickly stripped down into our swimming gear and stepped into the spring... Absolute bliss. At around 40˚C, it was the warmest we'd been in days. And once we got used to the water, we looked up and were treated to the best view of the stars I've ever seen in my life. You could see shades of the Milky Way arching across the sky, and within it we spotted dozens of shooting stars. It was another one of those fleeting moments I've had on this trip, where you just need to sit back, forget about everything and just appreciate where you are in the world at that point in time.

The final day we visited a few more lagoons and deserts, and then made the long drive back to Uyuni. We arrived just in time to pack our bags, then take another overnight bus back to La Paz.

Almost as good as the hot springs was the feeling of having a nice, warm shower at the hostel when I arrived back in La Paz. After 2 overnight bus rides, 3 days exploring the dusty terrain of Uyuni and no showers in between, it felt good to be clean again. But it was an experience well worth being dirty for.

Sucre, Bolivia

Sucre promised a break from the miserable weather of Santa Cruz, and it delivered. It was just what I needed to adjust to life in Bolivia.

A quick 30 minute flight over some beautiful mountains and valleys and I had arrived. Freezing and with the hostel pretty empty, I walked to a local bar and sat down for a meal and some drinks. I ended up drinking with a Scottish girl named Kelda for the rest of the night (and survived) and spent the next day or so with her and her friends exploring the city on foot.

Sucre is renowned as a place where travellers hang around longer than initially expected. A lot of time is spent in cafes, restaurants, or just walking around the city and appreciating the year long spring climate. It's no surprise I ended up staying here for longer than a week. Although there were other factors at play for that decision, which I'll get to later.

On Tuesday myself and a few others took a tour out to the Maragua Crater, a beautiful place just outside of Sucre. It involved a relatively small Inca trail that was previously used by the indigenous people to get obsidian from the crater, for use in making weapons to fight the Spanish. Now, inside the 10km wide crater is a small town which is home to many farms and even a school of around 300 children.

The next day I went with a group from the hostel on the walking city tour, which is probably one of the best city tours I’ve done so far. It was run by a local student, with the profits going to a Bolivian charity. Our guide took us to a many of historical points of the city and explained their importance - one of particular interest being the shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Sucre. Housed in a Chapel in the middle of town, it has been adorned with so many jewels that it has been estimated that the sale of these gems would make Bolivia one of the riches countries in Latin America.

Our guide also showed us the best places to eat at the central markets, and in the afternoon we stopped by the local watering hole for a drink. We had some beer and then tasted a Bolivian specialty ‘Chicha’, which the women prepare by chewing on corn and spitting it into a bowl. The saliva is supposed to assist the fermentation process, but it could also just be a great trick to play on tourists.

Afterwards, our group was standing outside chatting and I stopped to take what looked like at the time an interesting photo - an old man perched up against the wall of a two tone house. It turns out he was incredibly drunk and just as I took the photo, he begun to fall...

We rushed over to see if he was okay, and called an ambulance for good measure. And the tour went on! We finished up at La Recoleta, a popular vantage point of Sucre which gave us this incredible view:

The view of Sucre from La Recoleta

For many tourists, after Sucre the next logical step is by bus to a nearby town called Potosí. At just over 4,000m above sea level, it’s home to an infamous mine whereby the workers suffer incredibly difficult conditions for little to no pay. Unfortunately, there was quite a serious riot ongoing which is preventing any buses from making it there (or even to the next city, Uyuni).

So after trying to wait it out for a couple of days, we soon discovered we were kind of stranded in Sucre. We visited the bus terminal in search of tickets to Potosí or Uyuni, but there were none available. Word was getting around about the amount of road blocks, and even incidents of fires, tyres being slashed and rocks thrown at the buses was not uncommon. Even the people who had managed to get a ticket had no guarantee of getting there, and a lot of them returned back to Sucre.

In the end, Will, Klaus and I opted to bite the bullet and get a flight out this evening to La Paz - and go down to Uyuni from there. Not ideal, but luckily I'm the position of having plenty of time and flexibility in my schedule (for now - less than 8 months to go!).

Santa Cruz, Bolivia

I’ve said before that I don’t like saying a city is boring or “doesn’t have anything to do”, so my account of Santa Cruz is purely MY experience with the city, and not a comment on the city itself.

After crossing the border from Corumbá in Brazil, I took a bus from Quijarro to Santa Cruz - leaving at about 7:30pm that night. I’d heard about the “Death Train” but learned this was just a name given to the train as it was previously used to transport victims of Yellow Fever, rather than a particularly dangerous or exciting trip.

The bus was pretty comfortable so I slept in parts for most of the night. I woke up at about 5AM with everyone getting off the bus, so I presumed we had arrived. Pitch black and pouring down with rain, I grabbed my backpack and headed to the nearest taxi driver - only to find none of them had any idea where my hostel was. I stood for about 10 minutes literally thinking “What am I going to do?”, then remembered I had saved a Wikitravel article about Santa Cruz on my phone, so there was bound to be another hostel address on there. 

I found one other address for a hostel, so we drove through the flooded streets of Santa Cruz, only to find the hostel doesn’t exist anymore! He took me to another nearby hostel which was thankfully open, and I slept on their couch until the sun came up. Then, I grabbed my bags and walked across town to the hostel I initially intended to stay at.

On the first day I was lucky enough to get a break in the rain (mostly) to wander around the city for a couple of hours. The city seems to lack the vibrance and relaxed happiness that I was so used to in Brazil. Strangers I tried to ask for help or directions appeared timid and unwilling to help, and the dull buildings amidst the flooded streets and grey sky didn’t give Santa Cruz a welcoming feeling.

I was lucky however to make a friend off Couchsurfing, who was able to provide some much needed company, as well as a bit of an insight into the city and it’s people. We hung out for lunch, then went back to her parents place where I met her family. I watched a movie with her brother Rafael then listened to Frances play piano whilst I “read” (they were all in Spanish) some books on Bolivia.

I almost didn’t take any photos at all, which I wasn’t happy about. But on the last day, a few hours before I was due to go to the airport, the clouds opened up just a little. I walked into the main square and took a few snaps, but sadly they all look kind of gloomy. Which in a way is kind of fitting for my experience of the city. The best picture however, was this one, taken at Frances’ house: