Posted 11:32 AM by MelanieandSteve
LA PAZ AND COROICO, BOLIVIA, 24 April - 1 May

HOLAS AND COMO ESTAS FROM BOLIVIAN LA PAZ: Back in Bolivia for the last 5 days, we have looked leisurely around La Paz, cycled he 64 km anything-but-leisure ``Death Road`` to Coroico, and then returned for another pause in La Paz.

LA PAZ:

PEAKS AND PICTURESQUE PRECEDENCE TO LA PAZ:
Leaving Arica, Chile by bus to Bolivia, we ended a series of dry desert destinations and welcomed greener pastures. Preceding La Paz were lush landscapes of mountains and lakes. Snow buried peaks shined before open blue skies. Alpacas grazed in the green country side.

LA PAZ AT FIRST SIGHT: Cresting the hill into La Paz, we captured its unique expanse. Below snowy peaks, a wrinkled reddish blanket of same-colored buildings wrapped around hills, tucked into valleys and draped over steep mountainsides. One serpentine main road wound through the city and along the base of the valley. Thanks to this road, they say that if you get lost in La Paz, just go down hill. La Paz made a breath-taking first impression.

SYNTHETIC SEMANTICS: Every country claims the ``best`` or the ``most`` something. At 3660 meters (12005 feet), La Paz is called ``The World`s Highest Capital City.`` The fiction is, it is not a capital. Sucre is the capital. But Bolivians pull semantic strings and call La Paz ``De facto Capital`` in virtue of governmental activity that takes place there. To us, La Paz stands out more for its unique topography and dense building construction. Given its cliffside build up or its plethora of late night lights, maybe it should be called ``the most steep city,`` or ``the most sparkly.``

WHAT LA PAZ HAS IN STORE: Colorful kiosks and shops are all over our central part of town. The streets seem painted with bright alpaca wool clothing and curios, snacks of all sorts, and sundries like pens toothpaste and pocket knives. Streets are steep and often smooth with time-worn cobble stone. Melanie`s cheap flip flops slip downhill like skates.

WITCH`S MARKET: The area near our hostel is Mercado de Los Brujos (Witch`s Market) where fortunes are told and magic potions are sold. Products on display for sale include candles, herbs, offerings, and oils. But most notable are shriveled skin covered skeletons of llama fetuses meant for curing illness and protection against evil spirits. Vendors don`t like people to take pictures. Not wanting any spells cast our way, we have kept the camera at home.

MUSEO DE COCA: The infamous crop in the high hills of Bolivia is the coca leaf. We learned more about this little leaf at the Museo de Coca. The tiny museum objectively presented original native uses, European exploitation, and finally, horrors of cocaine addiction. During Spanish rule, coca was first banned by the church but then blessed because it increased slave workers` endurance in Bolivian silver mines. With Papal blessings, skeletal mine workers once labored ``48 hour days`` with barely any breaks and with no food a all. Today, U.S.A. consumers still give coca their own blessings through purchase power. The Cola of Coca, which gained popularity during abolition, still contains coca ``for taste.``

CANDLE AND MOON LIT NIGHTS: Ambiance is sweet in the city center. Restaurants are varied and food has been good. It seems every other establishment is named Luna or Sol, thanks to local moon mythology. Our favorite hang out has been the candle lit lounge, Sol Y Luna, with big booths, book exchange, games and good food where no one goes only once.

DEATH ROAD:

WORLD`S MOST DANGEROUS ROAD: The 64 km all downhill mountain road from Cumbre to Coroico is 20 parts paved and 44 parts pebble and rock with dirt and drop-off. Years of accidents on the lower 44 km have earned it the distinction ``The World`s most dangerous road.`` We hired a high-end guide company to help us brave the road on bikes.

ON THE ROAD: There were 14 men and 5 women on the ride, 3 guides, and 2 rescue (and rest) vehicles. Guides reported road conditions to each other on hand-radios. At times, the rocky road was so jarring that it seemed impossible to hold on, and the law required bikers to ride on the left side of the road nearest the cliff with 500 to 900 foot drop-offs. We rode through rivers, under waterfalls, and around huge boulders from an avalanche that happened just the night before. We passed many roadside memorials, but not all were for traffic accidents. One memorialized five political candidates once thrown over the cliff by insecure opposing party members.

CASUAL CASUALTIES: Our guides kept us safe and often stopped to explain what to expect. In the end, the group`s casualties included several flat tires, a broken brake lever, three minor scratch-ups, and one cut calling for six stitches. The two of us were blessed with a fall-free ride and a beautiful day.

STREET SCENE: In all we descended 3400 meters. The scenery was sensational as we rode from a mountain pass above the clouds to jungle below. We started at a lake above timberline and followed along a one-lane cliff-side road where two-way traffic and large trucks drove. The valley wall was so steep that waterfalls were airborne, sometimes sprinkling the width of the road. Eagles hovered beside us on hillside updrafts. Curves and corners were sharp and few turn outs were provided for passing traffic. Face to face vehicles often came to complete stops with one having to back up.

AFTERMATHS MUNCHIES AND MOMENTS ON FILM: Our group gathered at the bottom for celebrations and a ceremonial presentation of our T-shirts of completion. We were all dark with dust and mucky with mud so we cleaned up at the high-end Hotel Esmerelda before enjoying a big buffet. Entertainment on the TV featured a slide show of the day`s adventures.

BIKER LOUNGE: Most people went back to La Paz by 4 hour bus, but six of us stayed to play by the pool and lounge late into the night. Darling mountain town Coroico was nestled in the hills with a glorious view, low enough in altitude to have a comfortable climate. We swapped stories with other bikers when we hopped on their van ride back to La Paz the next day.

MAY DAY MAY DAY:

MAY 1 IS LABOR DAY here and also a Bolivian day of protests and road blocks. We woke in the morning to ongoing blasts of fireworks. Later at the plaza amid lots of traffic and several security personnel, we listened to enraged workers trying to rally the masses to fight for better working conditions. Locals tell us that protests and road blocks are so common here that police just let them take place without any problem.

NEXT TIME: More La Paz and More mountain peaks.

HAPPY BIRTHDAYS TO: Laura T., Phoebe, and Dave W.

Posted 2:31 PM by MelanieandSteve
UYUNI, BOLIVIA, SAN PEDRO, HUARA AND ARICA, CHILE, 19-27 APRIL

PEACE FROM LA PAZ, BOLIVIA: Since last time ... We 4-wheeled for 3 days
through Bolivian salt flats. We chilled in Chile in a desert oasis and then
went coastal on a mission impossible to find the biggest geoglyph of a human in the Americas before heading back to Bolivia.

FROM POTOSI´S POT OF SILVER TO UYUNI´S STASH OF SALT

DESERT BUS BY DAY: The 8 hour bumpy bus ride from Potosi to Uyuni, Bolivia, displayed red desert sands, sparkling salty lands and interesting goblin-like rock formations.

LEAVING UYUNI SO SOON-EE: As soon as we arrived in Uyuni, we began planning our
exit. That´s what people do in this frigid frontier transit town where tours
are booked and meals are cooked, but nobody is hooked. People come to see the
Salt Flats of Uyuni. We researched tour companies, met a friend for some
American made pizza, and packed up for the next morning´s salt safari.

PACKED AND PICKED UP BY PATO: Pato, our driver, cook, guide, car mechanic, and
boss, picked us up. Esra, Rahul, Jason, and Tamara soon joined us inside the old
dusty desert jeep with jammed windows and jarring suspension and we started for
the sands and salt flats of Uyuni.

VARIETY AND SALT ARE BOTH SPICES OF LIFE: We were surprised by the variety in
ecology, excellent vistas, and ever changing terrain on our trip. The Salt Flats of Uyuni are the largest and highest salt flats in the world at 12,000 square kilometers (twice the size of the Great Salt Lake in Utah.) Our travels included:
*The Train Cemetary: With obsolete steam engines eternally stopped in their
tracks, gutted and rusting, in the desolate center of the desert.
*Colchani town: A salt processing town with dehydration ovens,
iodine mixing machines and salt souvenirs like crystallized cups
full of salt dice.
*Hotel La Playa Blanca: A hotel made entirely of salt including the
tables and bed frames. We just took a look. We did not stay there.
*Montanas de Sal: crystalline pyramid shaped mounds of salt standing
over a sparkling aquamarine lake of shiny shallow water.
*Isla Incajuasi (aka Isla Pescado): We hiked on a cactus covered
choral island formed from ancient sea beds.
*Ruta de Joyas: A rainbow of lakes, each reflecting the colors of
sands and minerals below.
*Vulcan Ollague: We viewed the white flume of an active steaming
volcano.
*Geysers and Mud Pots: We got an up close look at roaring geysers
ejecting high plumes of steam next to gurgling mud pots belching
bubbles of gray sludge.
*Hot Springs: We heated ourselves up on a cold morning by swimming
in salty sulfuric natural hot springs.
*Arbol de Piedra: We struck yoga 'tree poses' near the tree of stone,
a rock shaped like a tree.
*Fauna: We found flamingoes, lizards, and bunny-like Pachenas with
squirrel-like tails.

HIGHLIGHTS OF SOLAR DE UYUNI: Top three favorites went to Mountains,
Lakes, and Islands.

MOUNTAINS: Montanas de Sal weren´t really mountains but rows of three to four
foot human-made mounds of sparkling white salt. They were shoveled there to
drain out fluids before hauling the salt to the town. All around the mounds
were aquamarine mirrors of shallow water. Pato drove right through a three inch
deep lake and onto a plateau of pristine salt. We took off our shoes and waded
through the cold crystals. Driving through such shallow water, we felt like we
could walk on water.

ISLANDS: Riddle: How can an island be completely surrounded by ocean when there
is not be a drop of water? Answer: The Isla de Pescado jutted up amid miles of
dry salt where there was once an ocean. If anyone doubted the island's oceanic
origins, geologic evidence spoke for itself. The Lava rock island was thickly
coated in ancient coral. Now, 12 meter tall cactus contrasted the coral. The oldest
cactus there was 1203 years old. We marveled at the mega view of salty white sea to
shining sea from the peak of the island.

LAKES: The route of the Jewels was a perfect name for the string of gem-like
lake that we followed. Each lake was a different color reflecting its unique lake bottom minerals. ¨Lago Colorado¨ (Red Lake) over red sand was a dark maroon. ¨Lago
Verde¨(Green Lake) glazed over a seabed of cobalt, and ¨Lago Blanco¨ (White
Lake) looked like frozen ice over its clear bottom of Borax. Inlaid in each
lake was an additional jewel: the pearly pink feathers of flocks of flamingoes.
They were fun to watch fly. When they flapped their wings their long legs would
run on the surface of the water and before landing they would fiercely peddle
the air again.

LOW LIGHTS WITH BRIGHT SIDES: When the left side of our jeep sludged to a stop
on the sandy road, we thought we had a flat tire. We weren´t so lucky and there
were no quick fixes for the severed rear axel. The pre-sunrise air was cold so
the six of us snuggled under sleeping bags and snow beanies waiting for help. We
had no radios or phones so we were glad this was a popular route. Eventually,
two jeeps arrived, each packed with its own group and not enough room to take
everyone. So we had to separate. Steve and Esra went in one, Melanie in another,
and Jason, Rahul, and Tamara were left behind in the lame-axeled jeep still
waiting to be rescued.

THE BRIGHT SIDE was we hit it off well with our new car friends. Our two jeeps
met up at the hot springs and most of us jumped in for a swim. Steve and Ed, the
only men taking the dip were surrounded by bathing babes, four Danes, two Brits,
and Mel. They enjoyed the ratios so much they were last to get out.

AT THE END OF THE DAY: We all had not had enough of each other so the extended
family of friends made it a night in San Pedro, Chile, celebrating Lykke´s
birthday.

SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA:

SALAR: Chile´s 1,500 square km Atacama Salt plains offered similar salt seeing to
Bolivia´s 12,000 sq km ones. Chile´s Atacama desert is the driest desert in the
world. This evidenced itself on our always stinging cracked skin.

SAN PEDRO PUEBLO: In San Pedro, we shared a room and most of our time with Esra,
from the Bolivian trip. Our hostel had a super relaxed adobe desert courtyard of
hammocks and hanging chairs, and we had to convince ourselves to go out of it.
The tiny touristy town of San Pedro was an actual oasis with a comfortable
climate and relaxed pace. The curbless dust roads abutted adobe buildings and
felt like an old west town. Every open door tempted us with art, eats, and
ambiance. Many restaurants had open air courtyards with wooden tables and warm
fire pits below star filled moon lit skies. The food was world class with
details like swirls of sauce on square dishes and golden finely spun caramel
topping main menu plates. Extremely high service standards and culinary quality crossed the board at every restaurant like nowhere we´ve seen before. And the gourmet grub was reasonably priced for a backpacker´s budget.

ATACAMA AT A GLANCE-A: Between two mountain ranges, the Andes and Don Mexico,
the Atacama desert encompasses the Cordillera del Sal (the Salt Mountains), with
sand dunes, wind carved rocks, and blankets of white salt. We played on steep
dunes, climbing ´´two steps up, one step back´´ all the way. Some people
sandboarded down. We tried ¨card boarding¨ but we sunk in the soft sand and we found it more fun to run falling through the air as the steep earth dropped out beneath us. We hiked through the interesting rock shapes of the red Valle de Los Muertos (Chile´s Death Valley) and clinched our Atacama time with a most unforgettable sunset and full moon rise at the crest of dunes in Valle de Luna (Valley of the Moon.)

NORTH TO NEARLY NOTHING:

THE GIANT: ON OUR JOURNEY FROM ATACAMA toward La Paz, Bolivia, we took a detour
to Chile´s Coast in search of the largest human geoglyph in South America, the
Gigante de Atacama. Getting to the Gigante turned out to be a gigantic
undertaking. It included an overnight bus ride, six hours of backpack laden
limbo unsuccessfully seeking a tour, taxi, or local transport, a two hour local
bus to within 15 km from our goal, a failed two hour try to hitch a ride the
rest of the way, packing and prep for the long walk and a camping trip, and a
pity ride from an eventual passer by who was friends with a police officer with
whom we had spoken. Thanks to this good soul, we got to the Gigante just in time
to enjoy him at sunset.

SAND MAN AND OUR HYPOTHESIS: The Gigante was a huge boxy figure of a man covering
almost the entire face of a sandy hill in the middle of the desert from an ancient civilization. He was outlined with dark rocks. There was always a breeze, so it was mysterious that the wind did not erase the picture. But rocks outlining the giant and blanketing the hill had been removed from inside his outline. Apparently the rocks protected the hill´s surface from erosion while inside the lines, the winds
eternally recarved the sand sketch.

HIT THE SACK ON THE SAND: In the desert, we spotted some pegs of wood once left
by road workers. Steve started up a fire and we relaxed caballero-style next to
it on sleeping bags for a fireside moonrise, stargazing, and great night´s
sleep. The whole time we were there, not a soul nor insect came near.

MOVING ON IN THE MORNING: We hiked to some small sand dunes, played on them for
a while, and then set off toward the road. In five kilometers of slow walking,
not a car went our way. The first that did sped on by despite our outstretched
thumbs. The second, with a gray haired gruff guy in a truck packed with produce,
tools, and desert dust, did stop. Despite our thanks, introductions and
requests where to go, we could not get a word out of him. The man nodded and
saved us six miles, but never let out a smile.

AT A DESERT CROSS ROADS where we were dropped off, we ate at a corner
restaurant where Victor the cook put on the too-loud juke box to make ¨for a
romantic meal¨. He cooked up our orders and then stood by our table telling us
to try, asking if we liked it, and offering to teach us how such fine cheffery
was done. In this crossroads in the middle of nowhere, he acted like we were his
only customers in a long time... and very possibly we were.

ARICA, I'VE FOUND IT: Curbside at the crossroads, we once again found ourselves
waiting for rare rides to come. This time one did. We hopped on a bus to Arica
and we were off. The Beachside travelers transit town of Arica, Chile looked
dusty and industrial. From a roof-top view, it looked like a shanty ghetto with
crooked corrugated steal roofs stacked with junk. But it had a comfy hostel
with sweet perks so we enjoyed a sunset stroll on the beach and an evening in a
hostel haven before catching a morning bus back over the border (our 8th Chile border crossing, all travel counted) back to Bolivia.

NEXT TIME: High times, High Capital cities, La Paz Bolivia.

HAPPY BIRTHDAYS TO: Kieren C., Sage P., Ryan H., Clancy C., Dan C.,
Jerry L.