Desert Dwellers

Continuing onwards from the salt flats at Bolivia’s Salar de Uyuni, we crossed the border into northern Chile and faced a similarly surreal Martian landscape in San Pedro de Atacama. The Atacama Desert is known for being the driest place on Earth and some parts of the desert have gone without rainfall for over 500 years. We came over from Bolivia with our French friend Sebastien who we had met in Uyuni, and stayed together at a hostel in the small town of San Pedro that serves as a gateway into the desert. San Pedro was pleasant, despite that we felt like we were seeing Texas flags on every street corner (the Chilean flag shares a striking resemblance), and that the touristy town almost had a theme-park vibe. During the late afternoons, the desert heat became unbearable and the concept of a midday siesta was well-understood and much appreciated.

Neil and I took two major excursions into the Atacama Desert during our spontaneous stopover in Chile. The first was a group tour to various sights and curiosities within the desert which culminated in a sunset viewing over the Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon). Along the way we stopped in the Valle de Muerte (Valley of Death), which is named due to a combination of a mispronunciation of its name in the indigenous language, and also that accidental fatalities occurred there during the mining era. Our guide was a carefree young dude who delighted in scaring us with his driving and standing next to sheer cliffs (parents reading this: he scolded anyone else that tried these antics and was genuinely concerned for all of our safety). Our next stop was at a nearby canyon with a broad view over the barren yet beautiful landscape, with an overhanging rock outcropping which was known as “Coyote Rock” for its likeness to the cliffs which Wile E. Coyote would frequently run off of in his infinite quest to catch the Roadrunner. We then made our way to Cuevas de Sal Cañon (Canyon of Salt Caves) which is a winding system of tiny canyons and caves formed by ancient water courses and composed of crystallized salt embedded in the stone walls. After crawling and exploring throughout the salt caves, we then made a stop at some bizarre rock formations called the Tres Marias (Three Marias)—known in recent years as the 2 ½ Marias after a tourist gave one of them an enthusiastic hug, causing it to collapse. Our final destination was the Valley of the Moon to watch a breathtaking sunset and moonrise over the desert dunes and distant Cordillera. I couldn’t resist a little hooping as we watched the sun sink to the fitting soundtrack of “Desert Dwellers,” and eventually we descended back into San Pedro as darkness crept in.

Our next outing was a swimming trip to visit some of the rare few lakes within the arid desert. Much like those we saw at Salar de Uyuni, the high-altitude brightly colored lakes were crusted with salt and home to vibrant flocks of flamingos. One of the first stops we made was to two turquoise swimming holes called Ojos del Salar (Eyes of the Salt Pan) which are two small freshwater ponds right next to each other that are incredibly deep and great for frolicking. Several cannonballs later, we made a stop at another oasis called Laguna Cejar. The lagoon is as salty as the Dead Sea, meaning it is impossible to sink and even those that can’t swim are completely safe to enjoy the crystal waters.  We joked about doing a sensory deprivation float in the tranquil atmosphere and thought that cousin Sandra would approve. Afterwards our hair and swimsuits were completely covered in salt, and so we rinsed off before turning white. As the sun set overhead, our same tour guide brought out pisco sours (the national cocktail) for the group and we all enjoyed drinking them and then taking goofy pictures.

The Atacama Desert was a good introduction to Chile, and quickly got us into the mindset of how expensive everything will be after leaving Bolivia. We left San Pedro for the Argentinian leg of the trip, but look forward to coming back soon enough!

*Update: Mika’s photo from this gallery was featured on Hooping.org!

The Surreal Salar de Uyuni

One of the top travel destinations we had been looking forward to in Bolivia is the famous and photogenic Salar de Uyuni, the largest salt flat in the world. To give you an idea of the unique landscapes we got to experience there, I shot video of Mika hooping and we took some…creative liberties with the footage. Enjoy!

*Update: Mika’s hoopdancing was featured on Hooping.org. Woot!

Uyuni is most known in photos for having surreal reflective surfaces where the wet salt completely mirrors the sky above, creating insane visual illusions. Unfortunately we missed the wet season, though our experience on the flats was still mind-bogglingly cool. Our  trip launched from the desert town of Uyuni, which is nothing special and these days exists more or less solely as a jumping-off point for multi-day tours of the salar. The group we were with consisted of a Belgian couple, a young Frenchman, and guy from Finland who is possibly the quietest person I’ve ever met. Our guide, Rudy, was a very friendly young Bolivian man that tolerated a carload of foreigners putting on their diverse music choices when clearly all he wanted to listen to was (terrible) Latino pop and reggaeton.

Our first stop was the “train graveyard” just outside Uyuni, where rusted relics from the 1800s mining trade were abandoned as their European conductors gradually moved home or died without passing on the secrets of locomotive operation to local workers. Next was Colchani, a small village at the edge of the salt flats that exists as a tourist trap and small-scale table salt production zone. A local demonstrated the process of salt refining by hand (heat, mix in pure iodine, cool, scoop into a plastic bag, melt the bag closed, sell as a keepsake for tourists), but we got the feeling that most real production of salt used in homes today is done in a more industrial setting. Still, it was unique seeing huge mounds of salt piled up and drying. As our Land Cruiser trundled onto the salt plain itself, things got more interesting. The stark white landscape under the pure blue sky is a photographer’s dream, and by far the most characteristic part of a visit to Salar de Uyuni is playing with perspective photography. Along with the footage of Mika hooping, our group of new friends took turns snapping goofy photos of each other with various props or in odd configurations. Lunch (alpaca steak and quinoa) was served in a hotel out in the open plain made out of blocks of salt, and afterwards we continued on to an “island” out in the middle of nowhere. Isla Incahuasi is a relic from the days when the salar was at the bottom of a small, inland sea, and is covered with fossilized coral. On top of the coral grow cacti, many of which are over 1000 years old and have reached heights of 10 meters. That night, tour groups from various companies congregated in another salt hotel, which even had floors made of crystallized salt—an interesting novelty, but inconvenient if you ever want to, you know, walk on it or set something down.

The next day was a departure from the salt flats and an introduction to some of the geography and geology that would become very familiar over the following week. Southwest Bolivia, northern Chile, and northwest Argentina are full of volcanoes, high lakes, and red rock valleys. Vegetation is sparse in this high-altitude desert zone, and the landscapes often look somewhat Martian. Some areas are so harsh that boulders are eroded over the millennia by wind-borne dust and sand, resulting in bizarre shapes like the arbol de piedra (Stone Tree). We also visited a string of altiplano lakes that are home to huge flocks of flamingos. I never really imagined them in that kind of environment, but there they were, by the hundreds. Many of the lakes take on different hues such as deep red or green due to microorganisms that the bright pink birds feast on, and their shores are often covered in a pure white substance called borax. We also saw herds of vicuñas, wild and ridiculously adorable relatives of llamas that subsist on the sparse grasses and salty  waters of the region.

Our final day started early, with breakfast served at 4 am and a bumpy ride out to a field of geysers. Unlike the regularly water-spouting geysers that I always associate that word with (a childhood visit to Old Faithful comes to mind), these were immense vents of steam that poured out continuously from fissures in the earth. Some were reminiscent of tea kettles at high boil, shooting tight jets of moisture directly upwards at immense velocity, while others created huge, slowly billowing plumes of steam that rose up steadily far above our heads. It was an impressive place to see daybreak, but the intense cold of the high-altitude dawn kept us ready to move on soon. The next stop was a hot spring at the edge of a lake, where we observed that the current temperature was actually below freezing. Needless to say, soaking in thermal baths was pretty ideal, and we were reluctant to get out. There was only one more thing to see that morning, a lake tinted green by its microbiology and perfectly reflecting a conical volcano behind it. From there, it was just a short drive to the Chilean border, where we said goodbye to Rudy and most of the tour group, and we and our French friend Sebastien continued onwards to the driest desert in the world: San Pedro de Atacama.

Sucré Bleu!

With its stark white colonial architecture, the “white city” of Sucre is like the Arequipa of Bolivia. Or is Arequipa the Sucre of Peru? Either way, it’s easy to be won over by Sucre’s aesthetic and charms. Wandering around the attractive central plaza with manicured shrubs and cherub-adorned fountains, we decided it was probably the most developed downtown area that we’d seen in Bolivia. The considerable European influence was fused quite nicely with typical Bolivian elements. We stayed is a hostel near what might as well have been called “lawyer street” since just about every establishment was the office of an albogado. During a brisk quick walk around town, we noticed many places selling empanadas and the other infamous stuffed pastries called salteñas. There were not as many cholitas in Sucre, though the few that we saw were mostly begging, which seems to be less common in other parts of the country. I was happy to see that most dogs on the street had owners and weren’t aimlessly roaming mutts.

The culinary highlights that Sucre is known for stem from its colonial influence and include sausages, dark beer, and fine chocolates. Although I didn’t partake in any of these, I was pleased to find a decent vegetarian scene with several restaurants that were not completely aimed at tourists. We even went to one place for Neil to get his steak fix which included an all-you-can-eat salad bar (something we’ve never encountered in restaurants thus far). I also had a field day in the city’s large covered market, sampling various fruits and vegetables to be included on my personal blog, and some not-so-pleasant jello desserts that Bolivians seem to be quite fond of. Neil experimented with the juice and smoothie bar that is a feature in every marketplace and ended up drinking a concoction made of beer, sugar, and raw egg (not advisable).

Our requisite tourist excursions included a trip to an old colonial mansion called “Casa de la Libertad” which is a well-curated building with immense historical significance to the country. This was where the Declaration of Independence from Spain was signed, the first laws and constitution were drafted, and where Sucre was originally named as the capital of Bolivia. It still houses many ancient artifacts, historical flags, and paintings of generals and diplomats. There is also a “Hall of Presidents” with official paintings of each of Bolivia’s leaders, including Evo Morales as the most recent addition. The other, more captivating attraction that we visited was the folkloric Mask Museum. It is a major bummer that photography wasn’t allowed, because this was by far one of the most visually stunning and mind-bending exhibits that we’ve seen. Inside the four-room exhibition were about fifty masks traditionally used in religious ceremonies or festivals by indigenous communities throughout the country. The masks ranged from very simple to elaborate designs, and were categorized by era and region. Some of the most complex and colorful creations continued to be used into the present day, and we recognized a couple with similarities to those we’d seen at the festival in Coroico.

Making our way out of Sucre, we hit a roadblock, literally. Our bus was held up by some protesters placing rocks onto the road and throwing them at buses that attempted to pass, and what should have been a 8 hour bus-ride turned into a17 ½ hour journey. One of the many unplanned stops that we made, without having a clue as to what was going on mind you, was at a city called Potosi. The dark history of Potasi began when Spanish conquistadors brought over African slaves to mine the region; working conditions were so horrific that 8 million Africans and natives are estimated to have died, making it one of the worst human rights abuses in colonial history. Once the richest city in South America, Potosi funded the Spanish empire with the gold and silver extraction during this era.

Today the mining town is on the map for travelers that want to get a look into the Cerro Rico mine shafts. We had heard about this unique “tour” experience, but decided that as interesting as it may be to witness first-hand, the ethics behind an industry exploiting non-renewable resources, and the concept of going down to watch people do their jobs in abysmal health and safety conditions didn’t sit very well with us. Most miners chew coca leaves to stay alert for long (72 hour) shifts that they complete in grotesque conditions. Respiratory issues and cancer are common, along with accidents such as dynamite explosions, collapsing tunnels, and poisonous gasses; many die within 10-15 years of labor and their life expectancy is on average 40 years old. Bolivian mining is also well-known for egregious child-labor violations, which is culturally accepted when the only other option is for families to go hungry without their support. About 1 in 3 children are employed in Bolivia, and within the mines there is estimated to be about 3,000 child laborers ranging from ages 6-16. Interestingly, the Cerro Rico miners worship the devil, as they believe that he is the ruler of the underground realm, and so have built shrines to Satan below the earth’s surface which they honor with offerings of booze and cigarettes, and smear with llama or alpaca blood in exchange for blessings of safety. I highly recommend this expose in VICE  or this documentary if you are interested in learning any more about the miners in Potosi.

Regardless, we eventually made it through the roadblock, and got to experience Bolivia’s biggest draw card—the salt flats at Salar de Uyuni.

 

Cocha-Cruz

Descending from Coroico and La Paz to Bolivia’s central lowlands meant a return to warm climate, palm trees, and all the comforts of summertime. Our next stop was Cochabamba, an agricultural and commercial center with a quaint colonial downtown that is peppered with murals and street art. This is something we’ve observed frequently throughout South America so far, and a tradition that we really appreciate—walls are normally pretty boring, and muralists here take delight in transforming them into political, cultural, or artistic canvases for the public. Cochabamba is home to what is said to be the largest market in the entire continent, La Cancha. As one might expect, it was pretty extensive; we got lost for hours in the lanes of fruit and vegetable vendors, a whole district of banana sellers, perfectly formed and iced cakes, mysterious meats, non-mysterious meats (the head is usually a dead giveaway), household items, textiles, and fake braids for cholitas that can’t or choose not to grow their own. We made an effort to stop and talk to more people, especially those selling unfamiliar fruits and vegetables, as Mika is endeavoring to document the idiosyncrasies of South American vegetation and how to survive here as a vegetarian. I got into a long conversation with some ladies selling huge mounds of devilishly spicy rocoto peppers who were very curious about the United States and what life is like there. They helped us identify the samples of mystery produce we’d purchased for lunch/scientific inquiry, and gave us another good example of the friendliness of the average Bolivian.

One of few touristy things we did in Cochabamba was visit “Cristo de la Concordia,” the largest statue of Jesus in the world. It is pretty much an exact replica of Rio de Janeiro’s “Christ the Redeemer,” but built to be marginally taller in order to take the title. Normally one takes a cable car to the top of the hill from whence our very tall lord and savior looks down on the world, but it was out of order so we had to take a taxi up. We walked back to town, passing through more local areas and sampling several varieties of street food. Food stalls on the street have been far less prevalent in South America than in Asia, which is definitely something that we miss.

From Cochabamba, we took a night bus to Santa Cruz in order to reunite with our new friend Nata and her family. Santa Cruz, Bolivia’s largest city, is the most tropical and modern place we’ve been yet. It was originally not on our itinerary as it lies far to the eastern part of the country and has relatively little of touristic interest. After our stay with Nata in La Paz’s Zona Sur, though, we decided it was a worthwhile detour. It was apparent how incredibly right we were pretty much from the moment we arrived at the modernistic mansion her family built when they moved to Santa Cruz about four years ago. We are unused to living in such luxurious comfort on the backpacker trail, but turns out that it suits us pretty well. Drinking beers and eating ceviche while sitting in the backyard swimming pool, lounging around with good music on the stereo, grilling steaks or enjoying vegetarian meals prepared by the family’s lovely and much beloved cook Ceilia—this is a life that we could get used to. Nata and her older brother Pablo (Pally), who also works for the family’s very successful import/export business, were amazing hosts, and we enjoyed hours of conversation with both. Pally is in the process of opening his own microbrewery (with a warehousing and transportation network conveniently already in place), and we sampled many of his creations. One lazy day he even started another batch in his poolside brewery station, throwing together local and imported ingredients to experiment with a new recipe. Family friends came and went, and we also spent a little time with Nata and Pally’s father, who bears an uncanny resemblance in appearance and mannerisms to a middle-aged Robert de Niro. The whole family’s hospitality will stay with us for a long time, and we’re very glad that we went out of our way to spend a long and relaxing weekend with them.