Jump to different stories: San Pedro Prison, Isla Del Sol, Trip to the Pampas, Salt Flats.
Date: 26th January
Text by:Astro
.. and hello Bolivia!
Our first days were adventure filled. We said goodbye to Mikey and James, who were zipping through Bolivia on their way to Chile and home to Australia, and met up again with Patrick and Corinne from the Inca Trail. Oh, its a small Lonely Planet trail!
Our first adventure took us on a stunning 17km walk along the edge of Lake Titicaca. The weather was superb, and as we walked along we saw small homesteads where people grow their corn and their coca leaves, the ubiquitous chickens running around, pigs snuffling in the ground for roots and other foods, and the waters of the lake washing up on the mud shore, through reeds and aquatic plants. The sun shone down, our walking legs were in full swing, and the the hours passed blissfully. The road we took wanders for a while away from the lake shore, and up a small hill (I dare not say a mountain), and at one point we wanted to take a short cut along an old Inca road. However, this involved some skills from our mis-spent youth playing computer games, as so:
You arrive at a wooded place. In front of you, you see a pile of logs next to small river. On the opposite bank of the river, you see a hill rising up behind the trees. Next to the pile of logs, an old man sits, chewing slowly. What do you want to do?
- Talk to man
What do you want to say to the man?
. Where is the Inca Path?
The man looks at you briefly, smiles thoughtfully, and returns to chewing. What do you want to do?
- Offer the man some bread
The man looks up at you, takes the bread from your hand and speaks: "Ahh, the old Inca Path, is it boys? Follow the river for 50 metres, then cross where the water is low. The Inca Path is on the opposite bank to your right".
What do you want to do?
- Follow river
You follow the river for a short distance, but it is too deep to cross. What do you want to do?
-Follow river
You follow the river for a short distance. After a while you come to a point where the river looks shallow enough to cross. On the opposite bank you see steps going up the hill. What do you want to do?
Well, and so and so forth. You get the idea. So we got to the Inca Trail, and can you guess, boys and girls, what is was like? That's right. A bloody huge hill with irregular steps in it. Inca People, is it any wonder you were wiped out? You were all too knackered to fight the Spanish! ;-)
Got to the top of the hill, walked down it, stopped for some light refreshment at a small eaterie (that had no food, only Fanta and Coke), where the local boy taught us how to use a sling-shot to knock out llamas from 150metres, then we carried on walking to our destination - the place where you get rowing boats across to Isla Del Sol.
We arrived at Yampaputa, where we would get a rowing boat over to the Isla del Sol. This is the proper way to do this trip. None of yer poncey touristy motor boats. We agreed a price of 10 Bolivianos (1 pound) each for the 45 minute journey, and out of the corner of our eyes we saw a small man rushing around getting his boat ready. As he approached us with his rickety wooden vessel it dawned on us that this was no young spritely energetic youth, but an ageing 76 year old rowing veteran. As we began rowing, the guilt trips began
"Oh the puir wee man.Aaaaaah hope he disnae die on us."
"Och perhaps we should take over the rowing and give him a wee break"
In his favour though he did not seem to be out of breath at all (thats the wonder of coca leaves). He occasionally rested and removed one of his jumpers. I think we counted he had at least four on. The bloke was a nutter
We agreed he could let us off at the end of a peninsula, about an additional 15 minute uphill walk for us, in order to preserve a few more minutes of life for him, and also rewarded him with a tip of some of our left over bread and cheese. Our generosity knowns no bounds I hear you cry......
There we were greeted by an 8 year old wonder kid, who asked if we were looking for a hostel. "Why yes" we responded, so he guided us up a long uphill stretch of path for about 30 minutes. I have never seen such short legs move so fast. He sped up the hill leaving us trailing behind. A rather embarrasing scenario, but then he has had 8 years at this altitude and is used to it. Well we had to come up with some excuses cos this was highly embarrasing......
We arrived at the top of the hill at a hostel we were not dissapointed with. A stunning view over the west of the Island, hot sunshine and cold beer waiting for us........oh and a room to die for.
" Hmmmm guys, look over here".said Astro......
"Whats all the fuss, mate?" Gordon replies
Astro pulls back a curtain to reveal all.
We had got a room with one view overlooking the stunning west side of the Island and Lake Titicaca, and a view in the other direction of the shower room...this was not a peep hole or a gap in the wooden panels, this was a uneccesary window which should never have been there, and they think a curtain covering it was going to stop us taking advantage ... idiots ... a haven for three perverts like us ...
We spent the remainder of the afternoon supping ale and watching the beautiful sunset. We stripped down and basked in the sunshine. However as soon as the sun dropped, the temperature dropped dramatically and from being almost naked we rushed inside to put on trousers, gloves, hats etc and returned outside to watch the amazing lightning strikes on the far side of the lake. Thankfully the tropical storm avoided us. We ate fresh trout from the lake and had an early night cos tomorrow was another walking day
We met up with Patrick and Corrinne for our walk around the Island. Once again however we were slightly deceived by the write up in the Lonely Planet, and what was expected to take 4-5 hours actually took about 1.5 hour tops, and we arrived sooner at our destination to get the boat back to Copacabana. Gave us more time to teach and play Headf*ck to Patrick and Corrinne and get another set of unsuspecting travellers addicted...
We negotiated a nice discount for the boat back and took a leisurely cruise along Lake Titicaca.........
That evening we met up with our new Swiss friends and went out for a couple of drinks and some cheeky banter. Graeme decided to become the resident restaurant DJ and took over there music system. We drank wine and in the morning Graeme had to decorate the basin in the toilet, much to the annoyance of the hostel owner who wanted to do as little as possible to run his establishment. Astro quietened him down with a small fee which he appeared happy with.
The next day we got the bus to La Paz, Bolivias joint capital, and very impressive it was too. You arrive at the top of the mountain and descend into the city. Its an incredible sprawling urban mass with tall snow capped mountains dotted around. Everyone rushed to take photographs (disturbing the recovering Astro in the meantime. Well he did have the best seat)....... (Right, can we just note here that when Gordy says "Everyone rushed over" what he means is that despíte knowing that I had been puking all day and was feeling ill, only HE decided that to get a good photo of something 1km below us he had to get 20cm closer and lean on my stomach and generally all over me, making me feel worse. Next time I'll puke on him).
We checked into a very central hostel, and began our search for tour agencies to the jungle, pampas and enjoyed the delights that the big cities have ... mainly a wide selection of good cheap restaurants ("I can't take no more chicken and rice ...")and cheap internet use.....
SAN PEDRO PRISON TOUR
I don't think I've ever had two convicted murderers for bodyguards or a tour guide serving his final year for cocaine smuggling before, or ever will again!
How to start writing about the most bizarre tour, probably in the world, is the most difficult thing I've ever done. We arrived at the prison gates around 2.30pm (with minimal cash, no valuables of course), a mixed sunny, showery day and were met by the prison guards, toting their machine guns and rifles. To be honest they were perfectly happy to see us there, because (as we found out later) they get their cut of any money made on the San Pedro Prison tour. Naturally.
We were ushered inside, and as the first in the group, the captain of the guard waved me through to the gates to meet our prospective guide, Luis, a convicted drug dealer caught in Bolivia with 9kilos of cocaine and sentenced to 5 years (reduced from 20 yrs by 15 years for paying "the court" US$15,000) hard time. Apparently when he was caught it was something like his 50th drug run, and he got caught as one of his contacts forgot to stamp his suitcase with "Diplomatic Immunity". Oops!
A quick chat with Luis to agree the price, determine how safe this whole mad episode was (the promise of the convicted murderers as bodyguards made us all feel terribly comfortable!). He then explains he can't walk too well today as he "fell down some steps this morning" and then we handed over our passports to the guards at the door as they let us through the gates.
Moments later we were herded through prisoners and introduced to our guards (the meanest looking man I think I've ever met, about 200lbs of ugly meat, and a smile that could make milk curdle), and then Luis disappears telling us to
"Stay together in the chapel and you'll be ok!"
A little while later and we set off for the 5 star accomodations of San Pedro Prison, where Luis lives with the Godfather of Bolivia as his next door neighbour.
Looking around the courtyard you suddenly notice a few things, which are soon confirmed by Luis.
1) There are NO guards INSIDE the prison! There was a riot a few years ago and the police moved out at the request of the in-mates. The whole place is now run by "Don Victor", a drug dealer of immense power, caught with over 9 tonnes of cocaine, and now running the business from inside the comfort of his $15,000 suite (a one time payment made to the previous owner of the suite) with cable tv, silk sheets in the bedroom, private bathroom, kitchen, etc, etc. I think you get the idea. He also runs the drug rackets, protection rackets, security, restaurants and both male and female prostituion rings (prostitutes leave after 6pm every night).
Since the riots there are now a few simple rules of which Luis informed us, in order "to ensure our safety". YIKES!
1) Don't touch the kids or the women.
2) Don't get drunk or stoned in front of the kids.
3) No Violence (as if!!), and
4) No stealing (Oh come on! They must really think we're complete idiots!)
I should also explain the women and kids thing here too. It seems that when a guy is sentenced to prison in Bolivia, he's allowed to take his family with him. In some circumstances (the poorer people) they have no choice. San Pedro Prison is slightly different in the fact that they can buy or rent bigger and better cells in which to house their families, when available of course. There are currently 1500 inmates (some actually are free to go, but prefer to stay as they like the prison life!) and some 500 women and children. There are also roughly 200 orphans in the prison, looked after by the prisoners and paid for by the tour money (Luis informs us that all the money goes to the orphans, something we find out later to be not completely true. After all, he IS making US$ 1000 PER DAY! There are a lot of people to pay off, bodyguards, Don Victor, and of course the rest of the prisoners in order to keep us safe for the next hour or so.). So, in the mens prison of La Paz you have the bizarre sight of children running around your legs, playing games and the women wandering around, selling vegetables and looking after their families. It's a very strange sight! Not much like a prison, but more a small enclosed town.
The 2nd thing you notice is the smell...
The loveliest smells of cooking food to be found in all of Bolivia! In this part of the prison (the luxury end), you can find 5 or 6 restuarants, run by in-mates and frequented by those who can afford it. The best is run by a cordon bleu chef, convicted (you guessed it!) for putting cocaine in meals at a top hotel in La Paz and unfortunately serving it to the wrong guests. DOH!. Luis happily informs us that we can eat at his place cheaply (20 Bs... US$3) and get Filet Mignon or steak tartare, his specialities. After wiping the drool from my chin (after a staple diet of potatoes for the last 3 weeks, the thought of steak tartare is having bizarre effects on my stomach)
Luis points out his suite on the 1st floor and proudly describes it.
"I have my own place, private bathroom, cable tv, but recently had an extra 2 floors added to provide for tourists wishing to stay the night and party! The "party package" includes a bottle of rum, 2g of cocaine, 1/4 oz of marajuana, 2g of speed, and of course your own room with bathroom, comfortable bed and your own key. I had 40 tourists come over for new Years eve this year and stay over. They had a fnatastic time! Oh, and if you'd like anything at all, just ask. You find most people do "their shopping" in San Pedro as it's the cheapest palce in Bolivia!".
(Jackal... The doors here only lock from the INSIDE! NO-one is ever locked in their cell anymore.)
We were then ushered through to the next courtyard (bodyguards front and back) to see the the next class in cells. 150 Bs (roughly 20 US$) a month will get you a room with a view and nice shared bathroom. It's a little more dilapidated, and the restaurants aren't quite as nice, but it's still nicer than a lot of the streets outside the prison! After a quick look around we move on to the next courtyard, which has a sushi restaurant (all fresh seafood and run by a Japanese family), an Italian and of course the pool hall and gymnasium. Pool games after 7pm start at 20US$, winner takes all. There are some serious sharks of "Fast Eddie Felton" quality here!
On the way past the chapel, Luis ushers us inside again. It's a beautiful building, dating right back to the manstery the prison once was. On the wall is a painting of the virgin Mary and disciples, apparently valued at over $1.5 million...
"Insurance for the prisoners in times of need, like in case we need guns and stuff".
Moving on we pass the general kitchens where Luis informs us of the what happens to the poorest of prisoners. When entering the prison, you MUST pay 25Bs for food. If you can't make the initial payment you're simply locked in the kitchen for 3 months and let out only for bathroom priveleges. After this time you can then move to a cell (one you can afford of course!) and begin working... as something or other. Looking around here you can see a carpenters, a barbers, more small shops and restaurants. Of course you can simply carry on as a drug dealer, although you must go through Don Victor.
We carry on climbing through the narrow and crumbling stairwells and corridors passing more children and in-mates, women and the dangerous end of the prison. Not dangerous to us (well any MORE dangerous than being here to start with!), but so old and crumbly that even a small earthquake in La Paz will topple the whole area, crushing the families living here.
We move on again. Another courtyard, more cells, more people. A small wooden stairway leads to the top floor and we advance upwards at the request of Luis.
"From here we can see the escape route for many of the prisoners. Just on top of the roof you can just make out a few missing tiles and a rope. When someone needs to take care of business outside they can climb across and down the rope over the wall. Of course, there are armed guards and there's only a 50/50 chance of making it alive, so it's best to go at night. On the other hand, you might want to pay the $100 to the guards to leave legally for 24hrs. You must have a friend staying on the inside who will take your remaining years in priosn on top of his own, if you fail to come back. For $300 you get 3 days leave. I tend to go out every month or so. It's nice to get away!"
Along the corridor we meet some more bodyguards who occasionally work for Luis. And the main man... Chino (chinese in spanish, so called due to the fact he is 3rd Dan in some martial art or other), who was trained by Columbian special forces and no-one messes with him. He's also chielf of security in the prison and meets every morning with the guards and prisoners inorder ot update security measures for everyone in the prison, including the tourists. He's a smallish dark guy with a bob haircut and serious eyes. I say "Hola" and am met with a steely stare and no reply. Ok! I'm off thankyou! We ask Luis if Chino would show us some moves, but appararently he's quite shy. "I can get one of the other guys to attack one of YOU guys if you like, and then he'll go into action" says Luis, quite chirpily. Hmmmm... no thanks.
Just outside this corridor is the professional forger (thats the guy who fakes stuff, not an ironmonger), with a little sign over his door. Apparently he can fake pretty much anything and $50 US bills go for about 50Bs, if we're interested. Luis then goes on to tell us abnout the Coca-cola signs around the prison. Coca-cola sponsor the priosn, so the only drinks you can get are coke, fanta and sprite. a year or so ago, one of the prisoners won a bike in a promotion, the ususla coke competition with symbols in the cap. Within a week the prison was overrun with bikes as the forger went into action and copied the winning cap! You have to admire these guys sometimes.
Next stop, the bodyguard, Diadota's cell, where we pay the 70Bs for the tour and are expected to ask for drugs... which we decline to do. The cell has 3 floors and we climb to the top floor and meet the 2 kids, Brian and Gary, about 8 and 11yrs old and happily watching "Pokemon" on TV.
The cell is quite cramped but affords a nice view of the city, well quitre nice if you're not gonna see it for the next 30 years anyway.
We wander around the complex for a while and then come across the main courtyard, filled with the dodgiest looking guys in the world and small children playing. Luis has another tour group, so runs off for 15 minutes to meet them whilst we're left with a bodyguard and the rest of the prison...
It's weird to look down onto such a normal scene. There are old guys playing chess, some dad teaching children a card game (probably how to cheat the gringos when on the outside!) and children running around. It's SO normal. So we stand and watch and chat to the bodygurad for a while and then Luis comes back and tells us some more stories. PLEASE, If you're of a sensitive nature ignore the next part of the story in italics and PLEASE don't let any children read it! It's not nice.
"So, this small paddling pool you see here, this is where the other prisoners bring the sex offenders when they're first brought in. You know, the rapists and the paedophiles. The pool is emptied and they're thrown in and whipped with a steel whip by the other prisoners. If they're paedophiles we sometimes let the children join in. If they survive the steel whipping, they're then taken to the kitchens where a red hot poker, with a chot chilli pepper (just to add rather hot and stingy insult to injury) is slowly inserted rectally until they die. They're thrown out in bags with the rubbish in the morning. The judges usually send them here as they know what goes on and it's a way to remove them from society. They usually commit suicide before arriving, but still I've probably seen this happen 40 times or more in the last 4 years. As part of the security team I have to attend, but I don't like it."
And you fall back to earth with a huge crash. This story is probably exaggerated, but there are NO sex offenders in the prison. And again you realise these really are the worst people in the world to be chatting and hanging around with.
After this we walk down into the courtyard and meet with "The DON"! The most normal looking bloke, dressed in jeans and a shirt, but everybody around him is paying the UTMOST repsect. I say Hello in my best spanish and he promptly igonres me. Rather happily ignored on my part, thanyee very muchly!
And so the tour ends. Luis takes us back to the gate where we are let through and given back our passports by the guards. The air tastes free and sun on your back is beautiful. We leave Luis to take his next tour, his parting words... "Go to Mongo's Bar and tell them Luis sent you. Half price drinks to all my friends! Don't walk alone at night and trust none of the locals!". We smile, thank him for the tour and head back to the city, shell-shocked and a little wiser to the streets of La Paz.
Date: 26th January
Amazonian Basin Jungle Boogie.
It would be rude to come to South America and not induldge in some Jungle action, so after consulting the Lonely Planet Bible, we signed up for an 8 day epic adventure with Sky Bolivia Tours in La Paz...and we were not disappointed.
Starting out we were a bit wary though. We were expecting a lot of rain as we are coinciding with rainy season (Jan-Mar), but then with such a massive continent and loads of weather changes from the equatorial conditions in the North to the glaciers in the South we were bound to run into a spot of trouble now and again.
However, as Crowded House once sang...."Everwhere you go, always take the weather with you"....so we thought we would, and sure enough we defied the Lonely Planet and took excellent sunshine with us. Much appreciated.
We checked out a couple of agencies, and opted for a tour which included a mountain biking trip from 4000m down to 1300m altitude down the most dangerous road in the Americas. Pictures later will tell you why. The tour also included return transport in a Jeep for 8 persons 14 hours north to Rurrenabaque, a 3 day trip through the Pampas, an expansive area of wet grassland and a 2 day jungle trip along the River Bení (an Amazon tributary). There we were promised monkeys, dolphins, alligators, anacondas, pirhanas more monkeys, big birds, snakes, parrots, macaws, toucans and cool jungle flora and fauna. A tempting prospect....
Using our finely tuned negotiation skills we managed to get a pretty good cost reduction on the trip, but were informed that if we could fill the jeep we would get an additional discount.
Okily-diddly-okily.....how do three lads go about meeting people and persuading them to join us on our expedition. Well naturally you head to the pub, so off we trotted down to the local gringo bar where we applied some excellent forms of cheeky banter (mostly instigated by the silver-tongued Jackal), and managed to fill the jeep with Caroline and Dave from England, along with Simone from England and Sandra from Switzerland. Cheers guys. Smoking Marco from Switzerland also joined us.
"EL CAMINO DE LOS MUERTES"
Well for starters, when you are at such high altitude, temperatures tend to drop, and when surrounded by cloud you can imagine racing down a mountain side could get rather chilly. Not only that, but the clouds tend to reduce visibilty to, oh, I don't know, about 5 yards. This is fine when walking through fog or mist, but try hurtling down a mountain, trying to keep up with a guide in a yellow shirt who keeps disappearing, and you're not sure if it's because it's cloudy or if just went over the side of the mountain, plummetting 3000m to his grizzly death. 10km or so later we all crawled off our bikes feeling cold that we have never felt before. Even the guide was cold and scared. Try numbing your fingers in ice for 30minutes and then trying to squeeze brakes that didn't work all that well when you COULD feel your fingers.
Graeme took the bus trip down the Road of Death, and was scared enough as it is without the need for his back wheel to go off the edge at one poinht. I believe he had resigned himself to imminent death. The poor lad. He also pulled through that little ordeal though.
We stayed overnight in a lovely mountainside town of Coroico in a "5 star Hotel". Well the hot showers were appreciated, then we began our epic 14 hour journey north to the Jungle town of Rurranabaque.
A tough journey, but the scenery was dramatic, and due to lack of tapes in the jeep, we perfected singing every song that was ever written to pass the time away. Bohemian Rhapsody about 17 times will do that though....We arrived around midnight, and treated our driver to a well earned beer then hit the sack....
Next day we met up with Ivan, the tour co-ordinator, Mad Matteo our experienced tour guide, and Marilouse (!!) our cook (but she was no ordinary cook!).....We set off on our 3 hour trip to where we would begin our Pampas tour. After the dustiest, dirtiest road trip where we all got caked in mud even before the tour started we headed off through the Pampas.
The pamapas is basically flat grassland stretching for miles in Northern Bolivia and eventually hitting the Amazon Basin. In the dry season, it's mostly very small rivers surrounded by very tall pampas grass and trees lining the river's edge. In the wet season it floods to cover upto 2m of the tree trunks and turning most of the grasslands into dense swamps. We went in the wet season (of course!) and so as we travelled from the small port with Mateo and Ivan in a long boat, down the bloated rivers we were almost level with the tree-tops.
Thanks to our excellent guide (Howling Mad) Mateo, we saw incredible amounts of wildlife. His eyes were so finely tuned, he could pick up on any small movement in the trees. We saw brown, red, black, howler and cappacino monkeys and even fed squirrel monkeys, swam with groups of pink dolphins, jumped into alligator infested swamps, swam in cow manure, went alligator spotting in the nightime, saw owls, storks (one was almost 6 feet in height!), toucans, cormorants, so many eagles we lost count of species, night herons, black herons, kingfishers, to name just a few.
We lived on a stilted house in the swamp frequented by Pedro (who met us naked exept for the smallest red pants is the world) and his alligator friend Julio who we all became familiar with and we ate like kings thanks to the cullinary skills of Marilouse. Even the vegetarians were impressed.
Unbelievably the weather in one of the wettest places on earth, during the rainy season held out for all 3 days and we didn't get a soaking once. Except of course it was hot, damn hot, so on the first night, after arriving to Pedro and his underpants, eating a wonderful meal and seeing alligators and crocs circling our stilted home, we decide to go midnight swimming to cool off and wash the dust of the day away. We never thought we'd REALLY swim at midnight, in crocodile/alligator/cayman infested swamp water. Strange how local people can convince you "it's safe... honest". Not the most sensible of ideas, what with a 2m long, 40yr old croc only 10 feet away, but it felt marvellous!
Next morning we jumped back in the boat, and wandered through the pampas waterways, between the trees, shouting at monkeys every few minutes and watching with amazement at the myriad of birds flying up around us. So many eagles too! They were just sat on dead tree trunks, about 1m tall and casually watching our little boat to see if there were any little people to swoop down on and carry off ... of course we kept a sharp eye on Carlos!
Date: 04th March
OK, here we go, another description of the Pampas and Jungle, seeing as the original got wiped out by a naughty bug in our server. Grrr! Naughty!
Boating down the river Bení, in a sort of giant canoe with wooden boards for seats, sitting 2 by 2 along the length of the boat, we were all really excited about being in the Amazon basin, watching cool birds flap over head, getting on with their lives in the same they've been doing for hundreds of thousands of years. Our guide, Mateo, with his 60-yr old eyes kept pointing things out about 2km away, and after about 5 minutes of intense squinting and peering and trying to figure if the leaves in the trees were monkeys, we would eventually see what he had spotted with his amazing bionic vision.
After 2 hours of floating on the brown river, between profuse foliage and spotting the odd blow-out of the pink river dolphins (see a picture here), we cleared the trees, and entered the flooded plains of the Pampas - vast expanses of grass land that in the rainy season can get flooded to about 2m in depth. We floated in to the grassy part, leaving the 5m deep fast flowing river behind to sail over the 1m deep waters, lazily waving the grass fronds to and fro. Our purpose here was to look for Anacondas (and for they guys, if you're looking for Anacondas, it doesn't automatically mean that Jennifer Lopez turns up pumping her ass. Bugger.)
As we neared the grasses, the motor on our boat started catching in the leaves, so our heroic guide Mateo jumped into the water, up to his chest, and started pulling the boat through the water. Of course we all sat there, baking in the intense heat, thinking "ha! what a nutter! jumping into snake and piranha infested waters!". And then he turned around and said "well, are you coming in then?". What could we do? What indeed ... We stripped down to our bathing costumes and jumped in after him, and felt our feet sink into the squelchy thick oozing mud ... with little things wriggling around the roots of the grasses. Oh lovely. But it cooled us down a treat.
Walking tentatively through the flood waters, we followed Mateo deeper into the Pampas, and up onto dry land, which was so hot that we headed for the water again! Unfortunately, we didnt't find any anacondas, so we went for a swim, and then jumped back into the boat, and onto the rivers ... which at 5m deep, and flowing strong enough so that its dificult to swim against it, was an obvious candidate for stripping off again, and jumping in to swim with Pink River Dolphins! The wee things were quite shy, never coming nearer than about 5m (15feet), but we're pretty sure that they swum underneath us, because they kept surfacing on different sides ... very cool.
Then we returned to camp, ate fantastic food, and in the evening went looking for alligators!
The best way to look for alligators is to trail bloody meat in the river and wait for them to attack. We're not that stupid, so we took to the boat and shined torches intot the river sides, looking for the eyes, shining like drops of amber in the dark.
Eventually, after a stunning sunset, we saw a few, but we had to meet a man in just his little pants first, sitting on his porch. One for the ladies!
Oh, and Carlos found an amazing magic jaguar skull - click here to see.
After a good night's kip under mosquito nets, which were more for keeping out the bloody huge spiders than mosquitos (did we tell you about the spiders that were in the toilet of our camp when we first got there? there were 3 beauties - a less hairy version of a tarantula on the toilet cistern, a pale brown / beige horror on the ceiling above the toilet, and some f'ing scary legs sticking down from under the rim - Pedro came in, in his pants, and whacked them all with a broom! Don't think they actually left the toilet, but at least we couldn't see them anymore!) we arose at some silly time of the morning, breakfasted, then set out to go back to Rurrenbaque. We caught an ever so lovely sunrise from the boat, and then halfway back to the landing stage, about 1.5hrs down river, we stopped to feed the tiniest cutest little squirriel monkeys.
At this point I must apologise to all nature lovers for causing these great little animals to be diabetic, but the only snacks we had with us were cookies, so you know .. tourists are more important than wildlife, so we loaded the little beggars up with refined sugars, and then let them jump off into the trees, in the grips of sugar rushes (can I laugh manically here?). See how their cute little leathery hands swipe our arrogantly offered goodies here. AWH!!
And then what? .. er .. oh yeah, we got back to dry land eventually, and after an adventure one needs to relax oneself with beer and karaoke (so I'm told by Gonzo anyway), so we cracked open a few coldies, got the mic on, and belted out some show-stoppers - just look at the emotion on our faces here -
On the way back to Rurrenbaque from the boat's home, we stopped at a pool by the side of the road, and the carnivores amongst us went fishing for piranhas. They're pretty ugly little tikes, big gnashing teeth and beedy little eyes. I stayed in the shade and ate fresh fruit off the trees, like the good little wimpy vegetarian I am.
Right, the 2nd half of our trip - difficult to describe without being there. I'll dispense with the description of the rain forest - we've been there and done that. What we did for 2 days was wander around with Mateo, our ever intrepid guide, who lived with the Indians for 7 years, telling us about all the different types of plants in the rainforest - for example, there are about 50 types of palm, and all but one of them are edible, there are trees that smell of garlic, and some that can kill you (that'll be the Curare for poison freaks); some trees walk, slowly, by putting roots down from half-way up there trunk, and pulling themselves to spots of better nutritional value; some trees have roots that go from about 1m up the trunk, and before they reach the ground ... um ... well, the translation of their name from Spanish is "Horses Dick" - so I'll leave it to you to think what the roots look like (and they do!!); some trees fall in bird poo onto the branches of others, send roots to the ground, and then grow around their host tree and actually strangle it - they then grow a shell around the dead tree, which rots away inside.
On our final day in the jungle, we took the boat up-stream a wee way, so we could see where the macaws lived! We got off the boat into thick bamboo, so it seemed like we were in huge grass like in "Honey, I shrunk the kids!" - now we know how Carl feels every day ... ;-)
To see the macaws properly, you have to climb above the cliff that they live in - a tricky maneouvre that entails holding onto a vine tied precariously to another vine, then pulling yourself up an almost vertical cliff, grabbing a handy rope for part of the cliff, sending rocks tumbling down behind you when you put your feet out to steady yourself, whilst avoidig the head-size rocks that are hurtling toward you from the people above. Tricky, but we made it. From the top of the cliff, you can see the macaws flying in their family groups, and some we saw squawking in trees just a few metres away from us. As night closed in, it was time to go back down the cliff, only to find that the handy rope had disappeared with another tour group, so we had to grip onto the smooth shiny vine stem all the way down. Gordy almost managed to kill Carlos with a massive rock that he dislodged above Carlos's head, and is still trying to improve his aim to this day.
And so we kiss goodbye to the Jungle, head back to Rurrenabaque, and the trip home.
OH GOD, THE TRIP HOME - 15 hours in a jeep WITH NO BRAKES, ON DEATH ROAD.
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do you know how many litres of sweat poured out of poor Jackal's body as he sat next to the driver, whose face was frozen in a rictus of fear, as we headed up death road, on the squelchy mud, not being to back up to let huge trucks past because if we did ... if we DID ... then we wouldn't stop backing up until we sailed off the road, and plopped 2000m down the canyon ... "I've said it before, and I'll say it again, life moves pretty fast, and if you don't stop and look 'round once in a while, you might miss it", so quoteth the genius of Ferris Bueller. And hurtling back into La Paz, from 5000m and the top of Death Road, with no brakes into Friday night rush-hour traffic, you better believe, my little Diary Vol-au-vents, that we looked out of the jeep windows, and looked around at EVERYTHING we could, in case it was the last thing we ever saw (the sight of the La Paz Homicide Squad didn't do much for the mood). Look what we do for you!
Right, so that was Pampas and the Jungle in northern Bolivia. After that, we spent a couple of days in La Paz, getting our laundry done, and chilling out with our beautiful travel chums - Patrick and Corinne from the Inca Trail, Dave&Caroline, Marco, Sandra and Simone from the trip, Sara "Sigourney Weaver" from our trip round the reed islands (see Peru Diary), and ... gosh, if I forgot you, its because its about 6 weeks and several litres of Chilean wine ago, and I'm nearly 30, and you know, age and everything! SO apologies in advance ...
What did we do then ... ? Oh yeah, we went down south so that we could see the Salt Flats of southern Bolivia. My goodness they're rather strange, folks ...
Check out these pictures what I did find on the internet, and I'll talk you through an eventful few days ... Salt Flats.
So, out of La Paz (which, by the way, it wasn't our fault that there was a massive great flood in, ALRIGHT? Sheesh .. ), we headed to a town called Oruro, where there was some sort of procession marching through the streets, I think practising for Carnival, and then later another procession for someone locked up by the evil Government. Yeah yeah, all very well, you know I'd love to support you, but come on, guys, you're in the way of the gringo's taxi here! You know, we bring loads of money into your country, a little respect, right? Its not too much to ask, is it? Well, after that disgusting display of selfishness, you know, them enjoying themselves and campaigning for civil liberties and all, we caught the train out of there, tout de suite, and what a lovely vehicle that was.
Unlike trains in Britain, this train left on time and didn't crash once, AND it had VIDEO on it! (OK, a crappy Van Damme movie, but still ...). And you could buy reasonably priced beer and wine. We did break down for about 4 hours in the middle of nowhere, with no explanation of what was going on, but that just added to the excitement - lost on a ghost train, built in a time long lost, of colonial excitement, when anything was possible, in the middle of a virtual desert, only the sun as our guide, melting into the mountains in the distance to one side, lightning walking in jagged legs over mountains on the other side. Oh, it was all so poetic and lovely, so beautiful, that we couldn't do anything else but play cards and completely ignore it all, expecially, ESPECIALLY, when some Americans gave use a pack of porn cards! Now, I don't agree with such things, filthy pieces of laminated card, cheap titillation, and frankly degrading to everyone involved, but you know, as we were stuck in the middle of nowhere - we could have died here, you understand? - then I had to research the playing of HeadF*ck with porn cards, just to see how it affected memory and gameplay, in case science never got the change again, and the idea died with me in the middle of Bolivia.
Where was I? Oh yes, the train eventually tugged its way out of the desert, after a lot of bashing of pipes and whatnot, and we arrived at the itty-bitty town of Uyuni, famous for one thing - SALT.
Because we are such intrepid explorers, we arranged our tour to the salt flats for the following day, even though it was 0130 in the morning, and we all needed sleep. (nothing to do with needing to quiclkly get to Santiago for a flight to Rio de Janeiro either ... ). Next morning, we set off ... into a mindbending environment.
Jeeping out of the town at about 10:30am, with our new travel buddies Marco, Dave&Caroline, SaraSigourney and Sandra, we took the dusty road out into ... into nothing. A vast expanse of white. And after the white, more white. And then, on the horizon, mountains floating above the land. Honestly, just like the land-speeder in Star Wars, or the skateboard in Back To The Future II, or or or, I don't know, something floaty, the mountains rested serenely on a wobbly haze of air. Really quite interesting, until we realised after about 0.0000001 seconds (because we're so vastly intelligent, of course!) that it was just heat haze. But, it looked cool.
Our excellent guide, who said about 3 words to us for the next 3 days, and who you will learn to hate later on in the diary, stopped the jeep in the middle of, well, like I said, nowhere, an ever-growing blinding sky of snow pulled to the ground and converted to, er, salt. Ok, nothing like a sky, but very much like a volcanic lake with millions of tonnes of mineral salts that's dried up to leave all the salt, and a squashy bit of water under the salt if you dig down a bit.
For the Star Wars fans (I know there's a few out there!), the salt flats resembled Hoth (from the start of Emire Strikes Back) so much that not only was I afraid we might get attacked by scary monsters like Luke did, but I swear I spotted Imperial Walkers on the North Ridge ...
The other odd thing about the salt flats is how Dali-esque they are, a description that will mean more later on. Gazing across the starkness of the salt flats, you see conical piles of salt dotted at fairly regular intervals, where the locals from Uyuni work the flats to produce - duh - salt. And against the piles of white salt, which only just show up against the white background, are old bikes; and with the glare, almost everything is silhouetted, so that white shapes on a white background have simple bike silhouettes imprinted on them, the spokes of the backs showing up perfectly, like spiders frozen in hula-hoops. Real strange.
And then it just gets weirder!
We went to a Salt Hotel! All the bricks, the supports, the foundations, the bed bases, the tables and chairs, made from salt! And it was amazing inside, and rather uncomfortable warm too ... they even had salt sculptures inside, and it was a very reasonable, by Western standards, US $50 a night to stay there. Although it was closed for renovation, so don't think about booking a room for a while.
Weirdness multiplied itself by 5 in the next hour when arrived at an island. Remember, this used to be a volcanic lake, long since dried up, but still, lakes with islands turn into expanses of ground with islands. In the middle of nowhere, the mountains never really getting any closer or further away, still hovering over the horizon like the sky leaked under them, an island magnified itself to be next to us, and on this island, with so much lifeless salt desert around, we find not just cactii, but so many cactii that you need a new plural for them (cactiiusesii?), and flies and butterflies and, most bonkers of all, a rhea was wandering around, or lying down. What, what was it doing there? As our Lord Homer Simpson would say: "ahwunno". We had our lunch on this island, climbing between the incredibly rude cactii - well, they form offspring by growing little round pods on their maintrunk, and with them having arms and all, it looks just like a naked lady! Ooer! ... yeah, so, we climbed up to the top of the island, and looked at the .. yes .. salt all around us, ate a nice lunch, got back in the jeep, and went off to our hostel for the night ... in a town which exists in the most stupid place in the world, because there's no farmland, no decent water supply (at least I don't remember any now), and the only trade you can have is herding Llamas, and then travelling 15 days by donkey to sell Llama meat at the nearest place. Idiots. Next day, more strange things ...
We went by several lakes with Flamingoes - its great seeing these pink chickens with pipe cleaners for legs up close. There are even white ones to see (fact fans will like to know that the pinkness is caused by the food the Flamingoes eat ... and if they eat different food, they revert to their natural colour of white). Some of the lakes we visited were supposed to change colour as the wind swept over them and brought different fungi to the surface, but of course it would be a windless day when we were there.
So, we rush on, past the lakes, and to Lago de Colorado (Lake Colorado), where we spent our second night, and where a foul crime was committed ...
The lake follows the fashion of the area for being volcanic, full of minerals, covered in flamingoes and almost dried up. Parts of it are quite clearly lake-y in character, with water and the like; other parts look dried up, but sneakily hid deep icky mineral-water-jelly just under a thin crust which reaches up and sucks under unwary gringos; whilst other parts of the lake just look like the moon, made from ... ooh, I don't know, magnesium silicates or calcium carbonates or something like that. Pretty chalky stuff anyway.
Me and the Chunki-One took a walk on the lake, got whipped into popsicle-condition by the cold wind, and then retired to the restaurant with other companions. An enjoyeable evening passed, with wine as it was The Last Supper with some of our travel-buddies.
And then we retired to bed ... when a foul crime was committed ... Carlos was sleeping in a dormitory of about 12 people, with his bed nearest the door. During the night some wicked miscreant snuck into his room, and filched his walking boots from beside his bed, which also contained his glasses AND his camera! What degenerate class of person would commit such a crime? And why would they also steal the next closest pair of shoes - an 8yr old boys running shoes? Bizarre.
Carl, and the parent's of the small boy, and indeed everyone else, figured that the only person who could have taken the boots was the manager of the hostel (I forget why, but it made sense at the time),so we tried to get her out of bed to answer her questions. And do you know what she did? She got out of bed, and then stayed in her room, shouting "¡Tontos!" at us (that's "Fools!" in Spanish, she wasn't comparing us to the Lone Ranger's sidekick). Eventually, after pounding on her door exceptionally loudly for about 20 minutes she eventually allowed us into her room to look around, ... but of course we found nothing.
THe other manager of the hotel then came over, and told Carl that he "must have lost his boots in the lake" - the inference being that he'd sleepwalked, thrown his boots in, and then forgotten about it, because neither he nor his limited staff would ever do such a thing. Boooo!
Well, eventually we set off in our Jeep, and told the driver that we needed something from the tour agency to say there'd been a theft; he was veeery reticent, and kept insisting that another traveller must have taken the boots, or that Carl had lost them, because NOBODY in Bolivia would EVER steal anything. ... what, do I hear you coughing? Exaclty.
Well, enough of the dark side of the trip, we went off to some hot springs where most everyone bathed, and then went to somebubbling volcanic mud-pools, where a Frenchman had died last year by venturing too close and falling in. Interesting stuff. And then we drove through some cool mountainy bits which were all different colours - red, greens, oranges, browns - and which, if you were paying attention, is where Dali comes into it. IT seems that, some years previously (like, when he was still alive) he had visited these spots, with the bizarre geology and colour schemes, and it had inspired him; the environment, and its forms and colours, were included in some of his works.
And none were more-so Dali-esque than the Stone Trees. These are lumpsof rock strangely eroded by the occasional grit laden wind and rain, leaving blobs of rock standing around. If I may sneak another geek-reference in - I almost expected to see R2D2 trundling along being chased by Jawas ... ooteedi!
Leaving Gordon's name in the sand, where it will last for a 1000yrs due to the lack of wind, we scooted off to the Chilean border, via another lake which refused to change colour when the wind forgot to blow across it for us.
And that is Bolivia, and we did LOVE IT on the whole,'cept for the boot incident, and we would love to go back!
Text by:El Gordo
So our first trip was the epic mountan biking journey. Graeme opted out and was to join us at the first night's rest stop in the town of Coroico. The rest of us headed up to the cloudy peaks above La Paz, where the air was even thinnner and much colder, and got kitted out in our mountain bike gear. Here began the 67km road down to 1300m altitude near the town of Coroico........it was all downhill so how difficult could it be?
A disappointment to start with as we were freezing and couldn't see any of the tremendous views we were promised. After a spot of cursing we hopped into the van and headed a further 6km or so down the mountain and began again. There the clouds cleared, the sun came out to reveal unbelievable views of the surrounding moutains. The road was precariously perched on the mountain side with 3000m drops to the left. One slip and you were no more. The road is known as "The Road of Death", or "Camino de los Meurtes" and is justified as there are numerous cases of buses taking the lunge over the side (upto 2 a month). An Israeli tourist plunged over on her moutain bike only 9 months before, so there was a spot of risk involved. The trip was made even more interesting by being supplied mountain bikes with one gear and very suspect brakes, but we all survived the trip to the bottom. The main thing was that the SAFEST place to cycle was the very falt 6inch wide piece of dirt road, which skirted the edge of the cliff face all the way daown. Great. A massive adrenalin rush, particularly with the high speed cycling close to the bottom ...
Astro here, just want to expand on this. Being a bit crap with bikes, I thought I'd take the 'safer option' and take a collectivo (microbus). All was well until we hit Death Road, whereupon I noticed that I was on the cliff side, and looking out the window immeditately next to me, I couldn't actually see any road next to the vehicle. I did indeed resign myself to dying there. I got talking to a local guy, just chit-chat about where I'm from, etc., and 3 hours into the journey, we came to a point in the road where it bends to the left, with 4 waterfalls falling ONTO the road. Remember, this road is made of MUD, and apart from the passing points here and there is only just big enough to fit a bus or truck on. As we came to this point (where the poor Israeli girl met her end) the local chap happily informed me that this was the MOST DANGEROUS POINT ON THE ROAD, where most of the buses and cars go over. "Muy abajo" he smiled at me (very far down, and heart in my throat so it was - about 10000000000km by my estimation). I whispered "miedo" which means scared, and he laughed at me, saying "are you scared?". I replied that I was a little, andhe laughed more, and then the back left wheel, that I as sitting RIGHT OVER, FELL OFF THE ROAD AND DANGLED IN THE AIR FOR ABOUT 2 OR 3 SECONDS. At this point, as the smile on the local's face fell off and shattered on the floor, I came to terms with my impending doom. They don't call this the most dangerous road in South America for nothing people. Back to Gordy anyway!
Almost immediately after setting off we saw our first pink dolphin, happily blowing water and swimming around our boat! How happy we were, thinking this might be the only one we see. Pah! We've never seen so much wildlife in our lives before! The Pampas is truly amazing!
Text by:Astro
And then there's the fauna - red ants that squirt you with acid, which hurts like buggery (I know!), some that are called 24hr ants, because - well, it hurts A LOT for 24 hours, and you might grow an extra testicle, boys, because their poison affects your hormone gland 'down there'; we saw footprints of Tapir, and the snuffling and bathing places of wild pigs; on our night walk, we heard a jaguar stealthily making its way through the forest, and got pelted with sticks by the night monkeys up in the trees; we saw the 3 stages of a weird butterfly, that starts life as a grey pupae living in rotting wood, then turns into a ferocious beetle, then turns into a beautiful flutterby. Ah!
Rising at 0400 for an early start, Carlos raised the cry of "Thief in the night!", but as the nearest residence was at least 50km away, us being in a 'specially constructed hostel in the middle of lifeless plains, and far away from Victorian Britain, no British Bobbies, indeed no police of any sort rused his help. So, falling back on our only 'official' help - the driver from our tour agency - Carlos pleaded for help to him. And the cad, the bounder, the blackguard, he had the temerity to laugh at our poor Smurfing friend. For shame!
Now be good, go and see your spouse with a surprise cup of tea, or walk the dog or read a book or something; I don't know ... there's nothing else to see here, move along, move along ....
