fresh n juicy chunks of oyster :: RTW travel blog

My hunt for a local joint in Cusco that serves guinea pig has so far been unsuccessful. Actually I was overwhelmed by hunger caused by two days of bus travel and ate cheaply and deliciously at the central market instead. But as I'm sitting here, sipping on coffee and slurping on desert I have a more serious problem than catching that so far elusive guinea pig: I have to write about the events of the last week and this is proving difficult when the last week has just been a blur of sensory overload to me. My time-honoured friend Chronology will have to come to my rescue to prevent me from getting ahead of myself and muddling it all up. Which of course I already have done since I started with guinea pigs - for the sole reason to get the attention of all the vegetarian animal lovers out there and with this I also want to pre-empt any major militant show of strength on this page by you. :)
We arrived in Uyuni from Sucre some time last week early early morning after a wonderfully unrelaxing busride, slept for two hours and then jumped on one of the hundreds of three day Salar tours. For good reason this area is one of the top destinations in Bolivia: the jeep drove us into some of the strangest landscapes I have ever seen.
It started out like a strange dream. Everything in all directions below the sky was flooded with that most uncoloured of colours: white. And it was a gleaming, blinding white, looking tranquil and somewhat heavenly but at the same time probably being one of the deadest places on earth: it was all salt. Like off of a mirror the sunlight was bounced into space and into our eyes and faces (sunglasses obligatory). I started wondering whether it would be possible to construct a hell on earth out of this place by finding a substance that reacts with salt to turn it black or purple and spraying it systematically over the place. Now that would be a tourist attraction, just imagine the boiling purple earth and fumes as far as the eye could see. Of course the salt miners would be slightly miffed but it'd be a small sacrifice for my personal entertainment. If there are any chemists out there who can suggest a suitable chemical I'll take it up with Bolivia's minister for tourism.
But I guess the landscape is already strange enough on its own. Out of the white nothingness there rises a rocky island full of cactuses. Mounds of salt lie around to be ferried off by salt miners. There are holes in the surface of the salt where one finds strangely coloured, bubbling water. There is a sea of rainwater on the salt that is cut in two by an elevated driveway of rock - and I dare anyone who's seen Sen to Chihiro to not cry when first encountering it. There's a hotel built entirely of salt which is slightly tacky but kind of cool anyway.
To tell the truth it felt good to be on the tour. Everything was organised, nothing had to be worried about and we were shuttled from one amazing place to another.
Over the next two days the landscape changed like a chamaeleon from rocky mountaineity (?) to beautiful lakes that changed colours several times a day, were populated by flamingos and backdropped by majestic mountains to quintessentially deserty deserts with funky rock formations to geysers of fuming sulphur and bubbling mud, to terrains that seemed to be constructed after NASA Mars Rover pictures and finally some wonderfully relaxing hot thermal baths (which incidentally was my only chance at washing until this morning's shower - I am starting to like being dirty and I am only mentioning this in case there are readers who like the disgusting details on my lack of personal hygiene).
After the tour Mechi and I spent another day in the Salar at the foot of a volcano where the harsh wind beat us and the landscape into submission permitting only the growth of tiny shrubs and the survival of cats with thick, very strokable fur. The few humans there subsisted on tourism and at the lodge we met an old woman, a cook, who was wrapped in layers and layers of llama-wool clothing like the age-rings of a tree. Weather-beaten and stable she would stand there as though she had dug her roots deeply and securely into the rock and earth around her. When she spoke the sole bottom row of her teeth would become visible like pebbles strewn lovingly amongst the mountainside and every word she would slowly and thoughtfully produce seemed infinitely wise and true. Before I knew it I had told her of my dreams in life while to most other locals I resort to a spiel that I know they'll understand and not judge or resent me by. When she answered me I knew she understood. Her dream was to climb the volcano one day when life would let her. She was amazing and has made me believe that cold winds and harsh climates make people more wise as they withdraw into their layers of clothes to introspect. I too started to feel comfortable while wearing two sweaters and three shirts inside.
After this intense experience the next morning, anti-climactically we made it into Chile - which I didn't like much. Superficially it may just have been the high prices but the town we landed in (San Pedro de Atacama) had dullish vibes for me and too many tour agencies. Thus Mechi made her way back to Argentina and I headed up to Peru that night, sans travelling companion, again alone.
The benefit of travelling alone is that I spent eight straight hours on free internet (that came with my bus ticket) the next day at the bus station in Tacna, Peru, just across the Chilean border. Ok, so maybe the benefit of that precise action is debatable.
That night, however, several other gringos kept me company on the bus to the gringo capital of Peru: Cusco. A dodgy woman tried to give us a volleyball that weighed 3 kilos, some shoes and random other packages to keep safe in our backpacks - now there was a coke-carrying mule if ever we saw one. Random movies kept us entertained before we tried to sleep which was an operation of only moderate success.
So, here I am in Cusco, eschewing chronology yet again since it is now evening, I am in an internet cafe and have since also booked a Machu Pichu tour for Tuesday. Until then I will try to saturate myself with useless facts about Incas so maybe I can experience a flashback while I am on the trail or some other near-religious experience that would rival tree-woman. Or I may just succumb to all the free drinks that get handed out around here to tourists... Only time will tell.

[Check out Bolivia 3 and 4 Albums for more pics of Salar.]