This happened a while ago now, but seeing as my paper diary is about as long as Bolivia´s coastline I think I had better write up my adventures here.
Weather: Boiling day, freezing night.
Llama Glama Count: Double points for Llamas with pompoms in their ears.. So must have seen at least 2 million today. Quite a few donkeys as well. Have decided Vicugna are much cuter than Llamas, new aim in life is to domesticate a Vicugna, and teach it to show jump, I think it would be popular on youtube.
The sun rises on another scorching day in Tupiza, and the truck, which will be home for the next four days arrives. It is strange, exactly this time last year I was in Northumberland beagling, and watched (repeatedly) a VHS Tom Smith found about the Camel Trophy (anyone who has missed this wonderful TV show there is more info here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camel_Trophy). This year I am standing next to an aged Toyota about to head on an overland challenge and all the French are smoking camel cigarettes.
It is expedition time, and huge quantities of water and fuel are strapped precariously to the roof. Our bags our flung on top and strapped down using some very frayed rope. The French finish their cigarettes... and we are off.
The guide is called Janet, she has almost the same pink coat as me, but lacks the pink socks to match. Janet speaks French (fortunately slowly) and English, she is twenty eight. The driver is called Freddy, Janet says he was the first driver for the tour company, Freddy only speaks Spanish, but understands everything. It soon becomes apparent that Freddy likes going very fast across the barely visible dirt tracks, and that Janet loves loud Bolivian folk music.
The Bolivian countryside becomes more dramatic as we drive up into the mountains. Sheer drops, cliffs, and canyons full of pointy red rocks. If all the Llamas I have seen today were like Carl from Llamas with hats, there would be no population left on earth. (For all who have not seen my Dad´s favourite youtube video educate yourselves here, and enrich your life with exceptionally odd humour http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-vsynsE8RQ ).
We have lunch in an abandoned mining village. The mountains are full of gold, silver, and iron ore, which means the only other traffic on the road apart from us is enormous trucks. (Not much fun to meet on a blind corner and cliff edge, luckily like all south american drivers Freddy really likes using his horn.) Lunch is amazing... turns out Janet is a very good chef (by Bolivian standards). One of the French Marions is training to be a chef in France, she does not seem to appreciate the food quite so much...
Onwards and upwards we travel into the mountains. We stop for a few minutes in a village called San Paulo, it reminds me of a town in northern argentina, where someone had scribbled below the town sign ´twinned with Siberia.´ The streets are lined with mud shacks, and completely deserted, it soon becomes apparent the whole town are watching a football match on the other side of the river. By the distant cheers it seems to be going well. Even the military barracks are deserted. Bolivian barracks are appear to be mock medieval sand castles... but involve more broken glass on the top of mud walls. They are utterly deserted, and we take a few pictures, however decide its best to move on fast when a man with a gun strapped round his shoulders leaves the football match and starts to run towards us.
We leave quickly, and after more bumpy roads, a bit of rock climbing and more llamas we reach the accommodation for the night. San Antonio is a tiny Andean village, where we only have electricity for three hours, there are no showers, and mattresses instead of glass in the windows. Our group is enlarged by a few aged Australians, we decide to climb the mountain behind to watch the sunset. The Aussies make it half way up, and the French smokers, three quarters of the way. My smoke free lungs make it to the top. However, I arrogantly run a few paces. Big mistake, pounding headache ensues, I quickly take a picture and descend to the French party.
The evening entertainment consists of folk songs from enterprising village children. The Von Trapp family have nothing on this lot, they have even got a complicated dance routine, and pan pipes. The lack of electricity is not a problem, as the stars are fantastic. More than I have ever seen, you can almost make out the galaxies.
Turns out to be surprisingly warm under the thousands of blankets the villagers have supplied. One of the effects of altitude turns out to be peculiar dreams, although I am not sure if this is the thin air or the medicine Bolivians use to cope with it. We weak Europeans were all advised to chew coca leaves, and drink coca tea on the trip... which if you process correctly becomes cocaine. (Had better add before I receive worried emails from parents...the leaves are perfectly legal and normal here, and I will remember to remove them from my bag before I go through customs on the way home.)
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