Howdy folks! Seems like it's been a while, hey? I think last blog we were back in Argentina en route to Iguazu Falls. Feels like a lifetime ago. So without further ado, here is what has been happening between then and now. It has been a pretty long time so this one is long (I feel like I always say that. I guess they're always long BUT I respect the attention span of my readership and I don't feel the need to shorten them. If you want short and concise then maybe you'd be better off leaving now and heading over to Twitter. For those of you who remain, this particularly entry contains a penis story. That's your reward for sticking around.).
First up, Iguazu. Oh my god you guys. We came a bloody long way to get here. Basically we travelled the entire width of Argentina in one fell swoop. And it was so totally 100% worth all those hours on buses. These falls need to be seen to be believed. I could not have imagined the sheer volume of water, the sound of it, and how close you can get to the edge. Like I'm talking, you will get drenched by the water, it is literally right in front of you and below you. People had told us that the Brazilian side of Iguazu was best for the panoramic views and understanding the scale of the falls and that the Argentinian side was best for really feeling the impact of them. Well, we didn't get to go to the Brazilian side (our visa was expired by a couple of weeks) but I'm so thrilled that we could experience them from the Argentinian side. Particularly Devil's throat which was insane and I will admit, a tiny bit terrifying. The tropical humidity of the area was interesting as well, a completely different climate from other parts of Argentina.
We tried to break up our return journey after so many epic bus rides so we took a couple of days to recoup in Salta in northern Argentina. There was really not a whole heap to do here which was fine by us as all I wanted to do was eat ice cream and look at the pretty architecture. We did visit a museum that gave some really interesting info about ritual sacrifices of children by the Incas, including burying them alive. Pretty disturbing, and even more so when you came to the end of the exhibit and there was a tiny, perfectly preserved Inca boy on display. Evidently when the archaeologists excavated the surrounding mountains they found three human bodies, which had not decomposed at all. Instead of, I don't know, giving them a proper burial they decided to put them on display in a museum. It didn't really sit well with Dave and I. Also fucked? Someone stole my beloved Salomon hiking shoes from our hostel room in Salta so I'm currently kicking around in a shitty $40 pair of 'Power' brand men's hiking shoes that I found in a Bata store in Bolivia. When they say 'lock up your valuables' clearly they also mean hiking shoes.
Crossing the border from Argentina into Bolivia was never going to be easy, given that we had to make four or five different connections, including a weird boat ride across a tiny creek that serves as the physical border. After the first bus ride, boat ride and taxi ride we ended up on a local bus with no air conditioning, no toilet, and barely any opening windows for four hours in 33 degree heat - welcome to Bolivia! Seriously, the buses here are so cheap, literally a tenth of the price you pay in Argentina, but they are so lacking in service. Those of you who know me well will know that I have a pretty weak bladder and can barely get through a two hour car journey without needing to stop for a wee. Well Bolivia has certainly changed that! Any bus trip of four hours or less will not include a stop and a 12-15 hour overnight bus will generally only stop twice. I'm pleased to report that I can now hold it with the best of them. Too much information, maybe, but it's probably a useful life skill to have and I have Bolivia to thank for it.
Anyway, all those crazy transport connections were getting us to Tarija in the south of Bolivia. We immediately liked this town. Clean, picturesque, nice architecture and with some beautiful squares. We had to turn our clocks back an hour when we got to Bolivia which meant the sun was now setting at 7pm. Ridiculous. Tarija is the wine capital of Bolivia and they produce the best $4 bottle of wine we've ever tasted. You can rest assured we drank quite a bit of it. Our first night here we witnessed what was to become a common theme - water fights. Guys would be armed with either water pistols or water bombs and would primarily aim their attacks at young girls. Occasionally they would pick up a mate and throw him into the fountain. We found out that this is part of the lead up to Carnaval and Bolivians take it pretty seriously. We even saw 7 guys standing in the tray of a Toyota Hilux with an entire drum full of water bombs just driving around and chucking them at people. It was pretty funny but we were warned that it had a tendency to get out of hand, which we would see for ourselves later on. Another significant event in the lead up to Carnaval is Compadres Day when all the men gather in the main squares, drink, eat and celebrate their friendship. On this day the women do everything for them - fetch beers and food, make baskets celebrating the guys friendship and basically whatever the guys want. It's a big festival of dancing and music and so many crackers. The following week it's the women's turn to celebrate and the men's turn to run the errands.
Tarija probably gave us the best of Bolivian cuisine (we definitely peaked too early) with a couple of ridiculously cheap buffet lunch places where you could eat delicious meals for the equivalent of about $2 Australian. In other towns we would devour fried empanadas and salteñas but we never really came close to matching the quality of what we ate in Tarija.
One thing we were really keen to do just outside of Tarija was a hike through the Valley of the Condors. This came very highly recommended but unfortunately we copped a shitload of rain that day. We had just reached the clearing which was to be our camp for the night and set up the tents when the heavens opened. And it didn't stop raining for 15 hours. Such a disappointment as the scenery was beautiful, the food delicious and our guide Archangel (who Dave called Antonio for the entire trip) was lovely. The walk down was quite dangerous too, as it was basically through the jungle and the ground was incredibly slippery. Really a shame that we couldn't enjoy it more. What we did enjoy as part of the tour was a really unusual drink that is local to the area. It consisted of Singani (local wine, basically grappa), cinnamon and sugar, and fresh warm cows milk straight from the teat. Essentially a warm alcoholic milkshake. I liked it but Dave was not very impressed. Here we also met a super cute little Bolivian boy who told Dave in no uncertain terms that earrings like his were only for niñas (little girls).
Driving through the countryside of Bolivia we saw a lot of signs painted either with 'Si' or 'No'. These related to the referendum that was being held asking whether the current president Evo could change the constitution to be allowed to govern for another term (their terms are 5 years and he's just been re-elected for a third and final time, so a yes vote would see him being president until 2025). There were a LOT of rallies and protests and public declarations around this referendum in all the parts of Bolivia we visited. (Sidebar: the vote was held last Sunday and 'no' very narrowly got across the line. I think it was about 52%. Personally, I think this is good for Bolivia's development. Evo has been president since 2006 so another term would have had him as leader for almost 20 years. I don't care how great a job you're doing, nobody can continue to be innovative and inspirational after that period of time.) Road blocks as a form of protest are very common and they affected our travel several times, particularly when travelling from Sucre to Uyuni. These blockades were the talk of every hostel in Sucre and people made it seem like it would be impossible to get anywhere. However, we were pretty determined to get out of Sucre and in the end all it took was a taxi ride to the blockades, then walking past the blockades for maybe a kilometre until we came across some enterprising people who were waiting with delivery vans kitted out with plastic chairs in the back to transport us the 8kms or so to the end of the blockades (with a brief stop to change a tyre that blew out). Here we had to walk another short distance and then transfer into a people mover which took us to Potosi. Then it was simply a matter of buying a bus ticket and then a four hour drive to Uyuni, via the back way as the bus had to go around a separate road block in between these two towns. All in all, not as dramatic as people were making it seem.
Why were we so determined to get out of Sucre? It's certainly a pretty little place but the hostels here had a really weird vibe. The weirdness began when Dave and I decided that it would be a good idea to spend a night apart (this decision was, not surprisingly, made when we were holed up in a two man tent for 15 hours playing solitaire on the iPhone). Instead of us individually checking into separate rooms at a nice hotel, watching Netflix and ordering room service, we took our backpacker budget and individually checked into dorm rooms at separate hostels. Bad idea. Hostel dorms really suck. They suck even when there's two of you. They especially suck when everyone in your room stinks of booze from the night before and they've all been staying there for ages and have become super close friends. In short, I did not enjoy this separation experiment. Maybe in the future we will do it again as it definitely has its benefits (it's completely unnatural for a couple to not spend a night apart for a period of eight months, particularly for Dave and I who were so independent in our real lives back home), we just need to execute it better.
Sucre itself has not that much to offer other than nice architecture and super cheap Spanish lessons. I took a few days of lessons just to refresh my memory and because I knew that Bolivia would be tougher than other places we had been so far, with far fewer locals able to speak English. Other than that we spent a lot of time eating and drinking - pretty standard for us. There was a great street parade on the Sunday, with traditional costumes, music and dancing and lots of kids getting involved in the Carnaval spirit, throwing water and spraying foam. Dave loved the foam spraying so much he bought a can and joined in the fun.
Amy met us in Sucre and it was so nice to be reunited with my best friend. She was fresh from travels in Peru and came bearing gifts of vegemite and cherry ripes (the twisties sadly did not survive the plane trip).
Our Uyuni plans involved taking a salt flats tour then getting the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. It is such a weird, uninspiring, desolate, overpriced town. Unfortunately we couldn't take the tour until the following day so we had to waste an entire 24 hours in this hell hole in a shitty hostel with no wifi or kitchen. Lovely. Fortunately our salt flats tour made up for it, with perfect weather on day one and just enough water on the flats that we could see the famed mirror effect. It really is a stunning place. You drive for miles and miles and all you can see is white salt all around, and then suddenly there's a massive island full of cacti right in front of you. Staying the night in a hostel made from salt was an experience in itself, not sure if it's really the best option for a floor covering. We had heard horror stories about drunk drivers but thankfully our man was the ultimate professional. Actually on the last day we experienced first hand what other tour companies seem to be acceptable behaviour, watching a drunk tour guide washing his hair in the hot springs, sexually harassing women and referring to the springs as 'fucking bueno'. Super glad we weren't on his tour. He was however, one of our Uyuni highlights, along with taking the perspective photos, Lago Colorado, seeing hundreds of flamingoes, the cactus island, and hanging out with our travelling companions - a young Belgian couple and an Ecuadorean woman now living in Bolivia.
Thankfully we were able to leave Uyuni the evening after our tour, but not without first eating overpriced quesadillas and not being able to shower due to no running water in the town (?!). We had wanted to go directly to Cochabamba but because of road blocks we had to first travel to Oruro. Bus scheduling in Bolivia is fucked, they will run a six hour night bus at the incredibly inconvenient time of 8pm, never any later, meaning you arrive at your destination at 2am. They do this for all the buses. It makes no sense at all. So we got to Oruro (which we would soon learn is only marginally better than Uyuni) at 2am. Got a lucky break and were able to get a room and a bed immediately which was beyond amazing. Our timing was pretty shit though, as we had arrived the day after Carnaval had officially finished and everything in the town was closed for a day of recovery/people getting drunk inside their closed shops or on the street. Amy and I did manage to find a cafe open in the afternoon (after getting water bombed a few times by some scallywag kids) for some much needed coffee. Unfortunately as we exited we were spotted by some local teens and they completely ambushed us. I'm talking between 20-30 kids, not just with water bombs and foam but entire buckets of water that they were throwing at us. They foamed us in the face so that we couldn't see were we were going and one of them tried to snatch Amy's bag. It was not a fun, carnival atmosphere, this was a genuinely nasty attack. Every inch of us was completely drenched. A little bit in jest is fun but this was mean spirited and frankly, kind of terrifying. To make matters worse, our walk home was about ten blocks and every single passing car thought it was hilarious to either spray foam or water out the window at us or throw water bombs. We couldn't possibly get any wetter, it was just to add insult to injury and because we are gringas. I had lost every shred of my sense of humour by this stage and tipped my entire water bottle over a girls head in retaliation. She deserved it. A few blocks from home an old lady came up to us and asked if we were okay, then proceeded to gently wipe the foam from my face (by this stage I wasn't even wiping it off because I knew I'd just get foamed again). She was so sweet and offered that we could come to her house to clean up if we still had far to walk. It was a really nice interaction and saved what could have been a horrible afternoon. Worst thing about it was that Amy had her passport in her handbag and it, along with everything else, got completely saturated. Once we dried it out we could see that the situation was not good, half her face was green and we were worried that the scanning mechanisms inside would be damaged. Needless to say, we hightailed it out of Oruro the following day.
Cochabamba was a nice change up. It was an actual functioning city with open shops and restaurants and green spaces. We stayed in a hostel a little bit out of town that had a big garden and a big screen and projector. Amy tried to force us to watch every Denzel Washington film they had but we held strong and didn't let her. Okay, we did relent and watch Deja Vu but that's it! Toro Toro national park is the big draw card outside of Cochabamba but the trip out there was said to be a complete clusterfuck so we chose to give it a miss. We did however take ourselves to Tunari national park and smashed out a 20km hike. It started to rain about 4km from the end which seems to be becoming a trend on our hikes. It is the rainy season so to be expected I guess. Cochabamba also lays claim to the biggest Jesus statue in the world. It's slightly higher than the famous one in Rio (which is 30 metres high to reflect that Jesus lived 30 years). The Bolivians believe that Jesus lived longer than 30 years so they whacked a few extra metres onto it. I think they just wanted to be the biggest at something. For my money though, the one on Rio will always be the best, not just for its size but for the incredible vantage point and views over an incredible city. We were warned not to hike up the hill to the Jesus in Cochabamba (a lazy 2000 steps) because of supposed robbers on the trail. However when we got there and saw that it was literally just steps up a hillside, completely exposed to the main road down below we thought 'bullshit, that's safe as' and proceeded to make the climb. That being said, a friend of ours walked up later that same afternoon and watched a girl get mugged and have her camera and wallet stolen - in broad daylight with people everywhere - so I guess those warnings exist for a reason. The only other super notable thing about Cochabamba was the rotisserie chicken we ate. I'd seen this chicken shop from the window of the bus as we drove past and when lunchtime rolled around that day I mentioned it and told the others of the line I'd seen out into the street of people waiting to get their hands on this delicious chicken. Problem was, I couldn't remember exactly where it was. So we walked in the general direction. And we walked for a while. I could tell that Dave was starting to get fed up with my vague recollections and was ready to head somewhere else. But just when it seemed that all hope was lost, we turned a corner and there it was: Pollo Americano. And bugger me if it wasn't the best rotisserie chicken and chips any of us have ever eaten. Mel - 1, doubters - 0.
We took a bus to La Paz next, arriving at the hideously inconvenient time of 4am. Our hostel didn't allow check ins before 6 so we had to kill two hours drinking coffee at the bus station and managed to piss off two different coffee selling ladies in the process. La Paz is a pretty hectic city and truth be told, there's really not that much to see or do. We became regulars at an excellent coffee place inside a bookstore (the bookstore also sold really nice pens, we all got a little bit too excited when trying them out), ate a tonne of fried emapanadas, and went on a free walking tour which taught us that Bolivians are pretty sex crazed, and also explained why there was so many dead llama foetuses being sold at the markets - it's supposed to be a good luck omen for a new house. Riiiiiiight.
La Paz is the location of the Australian consulate in Bolivia so Amy made an appointment to ask about replacing her damaged passport. The consulate was literally one guy in an office playing on the Internet. He could do nothing for her, all he could offer was a letter to take to the embassy in Peru where they could actually replace it. We weren't sure if the electronics were damaged and if Amy would be able to get out of the US (you know what the customs staff are like there...) so we checked in at the US embassy to see what advice they could give. Nothing. Back to our guy at the Australian consulate and his only advice was 'take it to the airport, see if it scans'. So we cabbed it to the airport and after asking 8 different people for help a cheerful young bloke at immigration scanned it and gave us the all clear. Phew.
Aside from visiting the consulate we also made a hospital trip to get Dave's body looked at. He received some bug bites in Cochabamba, really nasty things that swelled up and itched and had not improved even after two weeks of calamine lotion and antihistamines. Dr Google convinced us that he either had scabies or some kind of parasite that had burrowed under his skin and we were suitably concerned to get an actual doctors opinion. Albeit a Spanish speaking doctor working in a hospital that smelled like meat. Anyway, the doctor wasn't too concerned, said it was just an allergic reaction to something (we think maybe dust mites) and sent us on our way with some strong antihistamines. The bites have cleared up remarkably but the worst ones on his arm look like they may scar.
After an eventful few days we decided to head to Copacabana on the banks of Lake Titicaca for some relaxation. Copacabana is definitely the wrong place to relax. It's one of the worst towns I've ever visited. Full of dirty hippy backpackers spruiking menus at overpriced restaurants with average food and questionable hygiene (we all got some nasty diarrhoea in Copacabana). Its saving grace is Isla del Sol which is a really pretty island about two hours away by boat. We spent a day there, hiking from north to south and enjoying gorgeous views of the lake, the rolling green hills, and remnants of inca settlements along the way. The boat to take you back to Copacabana leaves at 3pm and we timed our hike perfectly, hitting the lakeside mooring at 2:30. Except it was the wrong mooring, on the wrong side of the island. There was no way we could make the walk to the right spot in the time we had so after a moment of panic a local guy who owned a boat offered to take us. For 50bs each! For a twenty minute ride. The return trip from Copacabana only costs 30bs for four hours. But beggars can't be choosers so we parted with our cash and took the lift. We decided to reward ourselves for surviving Copacabana and splashed out on a nice hotel for our last night, with a hot tub and beautiful views of Titicaca. And a kitchen, so we could cook our own food with western hygiene standards. However, our lovely hotel was at the top of a hill and we were so fucking shagged every time we had to walk up there. Not because the hill itself was massive but because of the effects of the high altitude. Copacabana is 3,800 metres above sea level, La Paz is around 3,600 metres and from my experience you never really get used to that low level of oxygen. Walking up hills, climbing stairs, even drying myself after a shower, I felt so out of breath so often. We haven't been at sea level since Valparaiso in Chile, and most of the places we visited in Bolivia have been over 2,500 metres. Feeling out of breath has become kind of normal, convincing me that I'm incredibly unfit anytime I have to do something more taxing than walk to the bathroom.
We were all pretty keen to get to Santa Cruz as we had heard really good things about it from people. I don't know which Santa Cruz they had visited, as we found it super uninspiring. The lovely Ecuadorean woman, May, who we'd toured the salt flats with lives there and had given us some great coffee recommendations. So we drank good coffee. We also went to the movies with May, to an excellent VIP cinema (just like Gold Class but much, much cheaper) to see The Revenant. I totally predicted that Leo wouldn't win the Oscar just because I thought it would be funny that he almost got killed like 8 times and it still wasn't good enough. I was wrong, obvs, but I think that just shows that the Academy have no sense of humour.
Those of you who were lucky enough to see me every day at work last year would remember the absolute drama I made around growing out my fabulous bob so that my hair was travel appropriate. Well, I'm happy to say that my undercut has fully grown out, and my fringe is a mere inch or so away from being the same length as the rest of my hair. Haircuts on the road have been interesting. My first one was from a Brazilian backpacker who didn't speak English and cut my hair in the backyard of Greg's farm in Chile after half a dozen beers. My latest one was given to me by Amy who patiently trimmed my locks with a pair of nail scissors in the front yard of our hostel in Santa Cruz. She was just finishing up when a white car pulled up onto the street and a local guy got out. He was standing there for a few minutes but we weren't paying him any attention until he started to make noises. Like grunting noises. I looked up to see that the fucking creep was watching us and masturbating! Yep, dick in hand, just going for it. Right there on the street. Across the road from a school!!! I jumped out of my chair and yelled a bunch of profanities and he just calmly put his dick away, apologised, got in his car and drove off. I told the hostel staff who went in search of the vehicle but with no luck, of course.
That particular incident sealed our decision to take a trufi (shared taxi) to Samaipata a day early. Samaipata is about three hours from Santa Cruz, a small town with a whole bunch of expats living there. I think there's 35 different nations represented in its residents. It was such a pretty, peaceful place and I can totally understand why you might visit and never want to leave. An Aussie couple run the bar there (of course) and, all bias aside, I'm pretty sure it's the best bar in all of Bolivia. For a moment I felt I could have been back in Melbourne, drinking at my local in Footscray. It gave me pangs of homesickness for the best city in the world, but I know it will be waiting for me whenever I get back there.
The biggest asset of Samiapata is its proximity to Amboro national park and the various day hikes you can do inside it. We set off for one of these along with Yong, a Chinese guy who we'd taken the trufi with. Due to the language barrier with the tour operator our tour was absolutely not what we were expecting but still a lot of fun. It was a couple of hours hiking through the jungle and then a long time walking through the river. We hadn't been told about the river at all so it was a surprise when our guide told us to remove our shoes and step into the brown water. A bit further down we had the opportunity to swim in a canyon and muck around in a little waterfall. Our guide was hilarious. On the drive to the park he stopped to buy some coca leaves and returned to the car with a couple of extra items - a bag of cocaine and a stick of hashish, proudly declaring that he'd bought us lunch. Later on we found out that we was pulling a J.K. Rowling on us, as the bag of white stuff was actually bi-carb soda and the stick was some weird menthol thing, both of which are supposed to make the coca leaf chewing process more enjoyable (neither of them did). After our few days of chilling in Samaipata it was back to Santa Cruz, farewell to Amy, and a hideous 32 hours on buses to get to Arequipa, Peru where I am currently writing this.
Thoughts: I have opinions guys, surprising for me, I know. Mostly I couldn't help comparing Bolivia, unfavourably, to Cambodia as a developing nation. Amy also saw the parallels often and she knows Cambodia much better than I do, having lived in Phnom Penh for a year. Unfortunately, NGOs seem almost non existent here, or if they do exist they're doing a great job of hiding themselves. The hike we did to the Valley of the Condors was through an NGO, and there was a great vegetarian cafe in Sucre run by an NGO but I haven't seen one since then. The hostel we stayed in in Sucre claimed to be empowering Bolivian women through work but all we saw were Bolivian women doing the cleaning (standard at every hostel and hotel) and a staff of foreign volunteers performing roles that could have easily been given to locals. In general I found the people to be quite friendly, aside from a few instances of incredible rudeness (I believe, due to the fact that we are gringos), but also lacking in flexibility or the ability to think outside a designated set of guidelines. Asking for a menu item without a particular ingredient, or a black coffee with milk on the side, for example, was generally met with a resounding 'no'. You have things the way they are or you just don't have them. Bolivians are very quick to blame the fact they are lagging well behind the rest of South America on Chile stealing their coastline many years ago. They say that if they had a coastline they would be further developed. It is hard to believe this, as there seems to be a particular way of life ingrained into the psyche of the Bolivian people so much that I can't imagine a stable import/export channel would make any difference. There also seems to be a certain stubbornness about their attempts to develop, choosing to reinvent the wheel rather than to copy developed nations who have already found the best way to do things. For example, there is a strong push to have all the clocks going in the opposite direction (with the 1 to the left of the 12). The supposed reasoning is that it follows the way a sundial tells time, but it comes across a lot like doing something different just to be different. The major cities of Bolivia are, for the most part, quite uninspiring with little to differentiate them from each other. Nowhere was as memorable as Santiago or Buenos Aires, and while I didn't expect that anywhere would be (or should be) it would have been nice to see a marked difference from city to city with each place having a distinct personality, for want of a better word. All in all, I'm glad I had the chance to experience a lot of Bolivia, although I did struggle to understand it as a country. The babies have skyrocketed to the top of my 'cutest babies in the world' list and will take a LOT to beat. So I guess that's one thing they can be truly proud of. I thought a lot about whether I would recommend Bolivia as a place to travel to and I've come to the conclusion that yes, I would. I think you need to be prepared for the challenges and I think you need to have at least a basic level of Spanish in order to find accommodation, buy bus tickets, eat in restaurants etc but the rewards are definitely worth it. Forget about the cities and head for the countryside and you will see some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. The valleys, the mountains, the volcanoes, Lake Titicaca, the salt flats, the deserts, the jungles and forests - Bolivia is a country of amazing contrasts and surprises. If they could get their tourism industry set up properly it would be a world class destination. As it is, it's a fascinating and spectacular country for those who are willing to make the effort.
I hope you guys are all doing well, and especially those of you in Melbourne who are just heading into Autumn, the most beautiful season in the most beautiful city. You lucky things. Take care of yourselves. x
