This entry covers 5 to 8 December 5 December
One thing I can’t help noting is how proud Argentina’s servants of public transport are. They greet you in full number 1’s smiling from ear to ear…you wouldn’t believe they could possibly be so excited to embark on a journey lasting the better part of a CSI series.
The rising bell left me scrambling for my dictionary as I’d already missed the 1st 4 numbers of bingo. While quite proud that I’d nailed 1 to 10, most of the teens and some multiples of 10, bingo is somewhat of an intense contest when you’re rifling through pages of number translations. Needless to say some belter in the 3rd row won a couple bottles of wine and a kiss on both cheeks from the host.
As I glanced out the window my breathing became short and shallow with excitement. Azure, sapphire, cerulean, turquoise (ok I right click / synonymed those but back to the point)…like a sheet of brilliant glass lying beneath craggy outcrops and powder capped peaks this is what trout heaven must be like. So clean was the water that I had to flick my brow to make sure I didn’t have my Poleroids on. Reality check…my sunnies disappeared weeks ago and were replaced by steamy white rimmed puppies who sole purpose includes reflecting flies and gnats rather than UV rays and glare!
The luxury liner touched down in Bariloche at 2.30pm…yes, exactly 2.30pm. 16 hours of driving and our proud servant of public transport had arrived on time. My research and hostel talk left me with no option but to head straight to Hostel 1004. I trudged up the street passing one Zalbach retreat after the next in search of a backpack looking abode with the name 1004 emblazoned on a plaque. In my best Spanglish, I asked a passer by who pointed at this horrific looking 10 story apartment block.
Argentina, Mendoza
This entry covers 1 to 4 December
1 December
Our bus weaved its way up and over the Andes and into a new world reminiscent of our very own Stellenbosch vineyards. Mendoza is a fair sized town (about the size of my birth town, Pietermaritzburg) situated in the heart of Argentina amidst towering mountains. I can’t quite put my finger on it but the place just has a lekker feel to it. A couple main streets lined with trees, cafes and green grocers made survival a breeze and a good lifestyle even easier. Theresa, Jonas and I celebrated our arrival with an honest game of shithead which made our scrambled egg dinner a rather messy affair. Pretty shattered from an overnight and half a day bus ride, we called it quites in our new home, XXX Hostel.
2 December
A fresh start, focussed and fitter than ever the trio were ready for the much anticipated Tour de Mendoza. We hacked hard to find out the usual where and when's however the sight of old school bicycles with curved handle bars and peddle brakes made it all worthwhile. The task at hand was to sample 11 watering holes...pretty straight forward seeing as we were given everything from maps to waterbottles. Not so much...we only managed to tick off 5 wine farms before taking a slight detour up a long driveway opening up to a restaurant under the trees and overlooked by a towering mansion. This page was most certainly torn out of The Great Gatsby. It seemed like the right thing to do and order steaks and numerous bottles of their finest wine in preparation for the epic game of croquet that was to follow. The Canadian host joined the retired pommy team and ourselves for an afternoon from another era (tah, tah).
Sadly the story of the famous 3 had to come to an end and with many incredible moments etched into our memories I waved Theresa and Jonas off. Phase 3 of the journey was upon me...time for the big handshake vibe again. It wasn't long before I found entertainment in not 1 but 5 Ricky Gervais impressionists...young guns blazing and firing from more hips than they knew they had, this was going to be interesting! A game of fives ensued with the loser having to perform a pre-fives chant task...mine: dive into the swimming pool in full gear. A session at a nearby pub covering all the important topics like rugby and general touring was the kindling to what was to develop into a blur of jolling over the next couple days.
3 December
I chatted to Sol this morning to start making plans for Buenos Aires and beyond...to buy or not to buy. One thing I have learnt is that what makes sense isn't necessarily the path most travelled and logic tends to fall by the wayside in chasing the dream! Turns out that renting / buying / stealing a car is not the simplest task especially when you're planning to cross 3 borders. Once I'd finished my lobsided pro's and con's list I whipped on my skats for a sweep of the town of Mendoza. These South Americans are big into their city parks...Mendoza went so far as to have one with impressive statues and water features surrounded by 4 smaller squares not more than 1km from each other. I smashed the most incredible strawberry and litchie ice cream and was generally oober satisfied to be doing my own thing.
All this goodness couldn't last..on my return to the hostel that evening I was left scratching my head as my bed had been allocated to another (clearly more needy) backpacker. I had only told them 2 nights upfront and so that was that...I had to mozie on down the street to see what else was available. Thankfully there was space at a place not too far from my previous abode so a packed up my loot, made a plan to meet the English young guns around 11pm and joined a frat of Hollanders in the new hostel for table tennis. Close on 15 mates from varsity days make an annual backpacking trip and once I passed their language and competency test they were more than happy to open their tournament to a distant relative of Van Riebeek.
11pm rolled on and so we stacked as many dudes and dudettes into 2 taxis and made tracks for a night club called Shine. I shouldn't have raised an eyebrow when a diversion for some stash came to an abrupt standstill in the middle of a dodgy looking suburb. From absolutely nowhere, our cab was surrounded by 4 other taxis and a heated argument that would've broken the Guiness Book of Records for 6471 words crammed into 30 seconds. I could've sworn I heard our young cab driver's sphincter contract as these clearly more established drivers crapped all over him. It was all over in a flash and try and we might, we never really got to the bottom of the cause of the incident given our very basic Spanglish. One can only assume our man was driving in a restricted area of some kind and had to be put back in his place...
Shine was packed to the rafters with teenagers on summer break...this feeling of weird was compounded by the overly flamboyent dancers on stage who didn't quite fit in. Anyhow, this anxiety didn't stop the young guns from getting stuck in.
4 December
Time slowed to a snail's pace as 6 super hung hackers chilled around the pool shooting the breeze. The random course of conversation reached a pinnacle when the game of Lottery Lines was invented. A simple source of amuzement requiring each partipant snorting a line of unknown content ranging from laxatives to sleeping pills to viagra to cocaine...heeeeeectic. Don't worry Ma, your son had bigger and better aspirations than sniffing powerful chemicals and waiting to see what happens to who. I was heading south in search of beautiful Bariloche...a gem hidden in the majectic glaciers of Patagonia. I left the setting sun of Mendoza around 8pm smiling, excited and ready for a solid 16 hour overnight bus ride.
1 December
Our bus weaved its way up and over the Andes and into a new world reminiscent of our very own Stellenbosch vineyards. Mendoza is a fair sized town (about the size of my birth town, Pietermaritzburg) situated in the heart of Argentina amidst towering mountains. I can’t quite put my finger on it but the place just has a lekker feel to it. A couple main streets lined with trees, cafes and green grocers made survival a breeze and a good lifestyle even easier. Theresa, Jonas and I celebrated our arrival with an honest game of shithead which made our scrambled egg dinner a rather messy affair. Pretty shattered from an overnight and half a day bus ride, we called it quites in our new home, XXX Hostel.
2 December
A fresh start, focussed and fitter than ever the trio were ready for the much anticipated Tour de Mendoza. We hacked hard to find out the usual where and when's however the sight of old school bicycles with curved handle bars and peddle brakes made it all worthwhile. The task at hand was to sample 11 watering holes...pretty straight forward seeing as we were given everything from maps to waterbottles. Not so much...we only managed to tick off 5 wine farms before taking a slight detour up a long driveway opening up to a restaurant under the trees and overlooked by a towering mansion. This page was most certainly torn out of The Great Gatsby. It seemed like the right thing to do and order steaks and numerous bottles of their finest wine in preparation for the epic game of croquet that was to follow. The Canadian host joined the retired pommy team and ourselves for an afternoon from another era (tah, tah).
Sadly the story of the famous 3 had to come to an end and with many incredible moments etched into our memories I waved Theresa and Jonas off. Phase 3 of the journey was upon me...time for the big handshake vibe again. It wasn't long before I found entertainment in not 1 but 5 Ricky Gervais impressionists...young guns blazing and firing from more hips than they knew they had, this was going to be interesting! A game of fives ensued with the loser having to perform a pre-fives chant task...mine: dive into the swimming pool in full gear. A session at a nearby pub covering all the important topics like rugby and general touring was the kindling to what was to develop into a blur of jolling over the next couple days.
3 December
I chatted to Sol this morning to start making plans for Buenos Aires and beyond...to buy or not to buy. One thing I have learnt is that what makes sense isn't necessarily the path most travelled and logic tends to fall by the wayside in chasing the dream! Turns out that renting / buying / stealing a car is not the simplest task especially when you're planning to cross 3 borders. Once I'd finished my lobsided pro's and con's list I whipped on my skats for a sweep of the town of Mendoza. These South Americans are big into their city parks...Mendoza went so far as to have one with impressive statues and water features surrounded by 4 smaller squares not more than 1km from each other. I smashed the most incredible strawberry and litchie ice cream and was generally oober satisfied to be doing my own thing.
All this goodness couldn't last..on my return to the hostel that evening I was left scratching my head as my bed had been allocated to another (clearly more needy) backpacker. I had only told them 2 nights upfront and so that was that...I had to mozie on down the street to see what else was available. Thankfully there was space at a place not too far from my previous abode so a packed up my loot, made a plan to meet the English young guns around 11pm and joined a frat of Hollanders in the new hostel for table tennis. Close on 15 mates from varsity days make an annual backpacking trip and once I passed their language and competency test they were more than happy to open their tournament to a distant relative of Van Riebeek.
11pm rolled on and so we stacked as many dudes and dudettes into 2 taxis and made tracks for a night club called Shine. I shouldn't have raised an eyebrow when a diversion for some stash came to an abrupt standstill in the middle of a dodgy looking suburb. From absolutely nowhere, our cab was surrounded by 4 other taxis and a heated argument that would've broken the Guiness Book of Records for 6471 words crammed into 30 seconds. I could've sworn I heard our young cab driver's sphincter contract as these clearly more established drivers crapped all over him. It was all over in a flash and try and we might, we never really got to the bottom of the cause of the incident given our very basic Spanglish. One can only assume our man was driving in a restricted area of some kind and had to be put back in his place...
Shine was packed to the rafters with teenagers on summer break...this feeling of weird was compounded by the overly flamboyent dancers on stage who didn't quite fit in. Anyhow, this anxiety didn't stop the young guns from getting stuck in.
4 December
Time slowed to a snail's pace as 6 super hung hackers chilled around the pool shooting the breeze. The random course of conversation reached a pinnacle when the game of Lottery Lines was invented. A simple source of amuzement requiring each partipant snorting a line of unknown content ranging from laxatives to sleeping pills to viagra to cocaine...heeeeeectic. Don't worry Ma, your son had bigger and better aspirations than sniffing powerful chemicals and waiting to see what happens to who. I was heading south in search of beautiful Bariloche...a gem hidden in the majectic glaciers of Patagonia. I left the setting sun of Mendoza around 8pm smiling, excited and ready for a solid 16 hour overnight bus ride.
Chile, La Serena
Thi entry covers 28 to 30 November
28 November
A well deserved 10 hour sleep blew a breathe of fresh air into us which we had to store away in the bowels of where ever energy comes from as we stepped onto our bus. We were about to make our way through one of the driest places on earth…the Atacama Desert which stretches for hundreds of kilometres along Chile’s northern coastline. It suddenly dawned on us that seat positioning on a bus is an essential element on successful bussing…rule number 1: book a seat as far as possible from the toilets to save on waves of nausea each and every time a passenger folds under the pressure and takes the plunge into the unknown. Despite the bus driver’s valiant attempts to inform avid bussers that their loos can only handle #1’s, these buses stop for nobody and the inevitable takes place time and time again leaving all # 1’ers desperately having to deal with what can only de described as sticking your nose into a shoe box with a month old dead rat inside...enough incentive to avoid any forms of liquids for the full 16 hour journey! Jonas was one of the unfortunate ones and took the plunge 5 hours into the trip and while he never quite fully recovered, he did somehow manage to survive to tell the tale. I made acquaintance with Eva Kleini from Eastern Germany and after sharing itineraries, we made plans to hook up in Bariloche in 2 weeks time.
29 November
We arrived in La Serena early in the morning and were pleasantly surprised with what we saw as the Lonely Planet did not have much to say for this place. Wide open avenues and attractive historic buildings made for a pleasant walk as we searched for places that hire out cars. Thankfully all were in the same street but only opened in an hour so we kept going in the direction of a nearby lighthouse about kilometre up the road. As we traipsed along the pavement taking in the new surroundings, I realised that La Serena shares a striking resemblance with that of my hometown…Durban, South Africa. As idle banter often ensues amongst fellow backpackers an irrepressible smile spread across my face at the thought of how similar this was to the place of my upbringing.
We reached the lighthouse to find the remains of what must have been an epic beach party. Holiday season had clearly begun in South America and we had reached the developed world. Taking in the sea breeze we turned back for town to investigate car hire options and lunch. Holiday season and the fact that we had arrived on a Saturday meant we could only put pedal to the metal on Monday which would seriously be detrimental to our efforts of reaching Mendoza asap (before Theresa had to fly home). The 2nd glitch was quickly put in the past as we made tracks for the SUPERmarket which was something else…I was still getting my head around how developed Chile was and this monolith of a building confirmed it. Like a refined Makro, this shopping centre sold absolutely everything you could imagine so was the perfect stomping ground to shop for our picnic. Before long we were gorging ourselves in a nearby park amidst footballers, roller hockey players, runners and Llamas! Our appetites were large but the beers even bigger and our eyes had obviously won the battle over our thirst which left us somewhat bullet proof as we subsequently discovered from our hostel host that drinking in public is outlawed in Chile!
The day was far from over as we eased our way into La Serena’s nightlife. Following our noses into darkness we stumbled across a glowing sky. Intrigued to find out whether we were missing out in Chile’s version of a fiery Carnival parade, we were met by billowing smoke and a handful of concerned faces. Within minutes, the streets were packed with people all trying to get as close as possible without suffering from heat stroke. Fire engines hit the scene although were somewhat ineffective in controlling the flames which seemed to grow in confidence…After gawking enough to convince us that we weren’t going to miss anything, we moved onto the nearest restaurant come pub come club. It didn’t take long before the trio were carving it up with the locals. This was our first experience of real South American dancing…and no, swing is not a inebriated past time! The evening closed with a hotdog before crashing fully clothed on top of the sheets back at the hostel…
30 November
A team decision was made to explore La Serena so we strolled towards the main street in search of a bus that would hopefully take us Conquimbe Beach. The last time I caught a bus was in Standard 3 so jumping aboard a mode of transport requiring nothing more than patience was pure bliss. This ecstasy was short lived as we had no idea when to get off and the further we drove the less appealing the scenery became. We realised we’d gone too far when the bus made a loop so we hopped off and made tracks for the nearest beach. Hanging and hot, the slippery sea was a welcome reprieve. Despite being advised not to expose ourselves to the sun between 12pm and 3pm we had managed to do exactly that…but it was sooo good. Smothered in sunscreen we lay sprawled on some distant Chilean beach for a good couple hours before thumbing down a taxi bound for the cinemas. Our bus to Mendoza, Argentina was departing at 10pm so and craving for 1st world entertainment drew us to 007 Quantum of a Solace…which was followed by Body of Lies! 6 hours in darkness made us somewhat delirious as we mowed through what must be a national speciality, a hot dog. We packed in high spirits, our minds and mouths firing notions of fine wine and tender Argentinean steaks.
28 November
A well deserved 10 hour sleep blew a breathe of fresh air into us which we had to store away in the bowels of where ever energy comes from as we stepped onto our bus. We were about to make our way through one of the driest places on earth…the Atacama Desert which stretches for hundreds of kilometres along Chile’s northern coastline. It suddenly dawned on us that seat positioning on a bus is an essential element on successful bussing…rule number 1: book a seat as far as possible from the toilets to save on waves of nausea each and every time a passenger folds under the pressure and takes the plunge into the unknown. Despite the bus driver’s valiant attempts to inform avid bussers that their loos can only handle #1’s, these buses stop for nobody and the inevitable takes place time and time again leaving all # 1’ers desperately having to deal with what can only de described as sticking your nose into a shoe box with a month old dead rat inside...enough incentive to avoid any forms of liquids for the full 16 hour journey! Jonas was one of the unfortunate ones and took the plunge 5 hours into the trip and while he never quite fully recovered, he did somehow manage to survive to tell the tale. I made acquaintance with Eva Kleini from Eastern Germany and after sharing itineraries, we made plans to hook up in Bariloche in 2 weeks time.
29 November
We arrived in La Serena early in the morning and were pleasantly surprised with what we saw as the Lonely Planet did not have much to say for this place. Wide open avenues and attractive historic buildings made for a pleasant walk as we searched for places that hire out cars. Thankfully all were in the same street but only opened in an hour so we kept going in the direction of a nearby lighthouse about kilometre up the road. As we traipsed along the pavement taking in the new surroundings, I realised that La Serena shares a striking resemblance with that of my hometown…Durban, South Africa. As idle banter often ensues amongst fellow backpackers an irrepressible smile spread across my face at the thought of how similar this was to the place of my upbringing.
We reached the lighthouse to find the remains of what must have been an epic beach party. Holiday season had clearly begun in South America and we had reached the developed world. Taking in the sea breeze we turned back for town to investigate car hire options and lunch. Holiday season and the fact that we had arrived on a Saturday meant we could only put pedal to the metal on Monday which would seriously be detrimental to our efforts of reaching Mendoza asap (before Theresa had to fly home). The 2nd glitch was quickly put in the past as we made tracks for the SUPERmarket which was something else…I was still getting my head around how developed Chile was and this monolith of a building confirmed it. Like a refined Makro, this shopping centre sold absolutely everything you could imagine so was the perfect stomping ground to shop for our picnic. Before long we were gorging ourselves in a nearby park amidst footballers, roller hockey players, runners and Llamas! Our appetites were large but the beers even bigger and our eyes had obviously won the battle over our thirst which left us somewhat bullet proof as we subsequently discovered from our hostel host that drinking in public is outlawed in Chile!
The day was far from over as we eased our way into La Serena’s nightlife. Following our noses into darkness we stumbled across a glowing sky. Intrigued to find out whether we were missing out in Chile’s version of a fiery Carnival parade, we were met by billowing smoke and a handful of concerned faces. Within minutes, the streets were packed with people all trying to get as close as possible without suffering from heat stroke. Fire engines hit the scene although were somewhat ineffective in controlling the flames which seemed to grow in confidence…After gawking enough to convince us that we weren’t going to miss anything, we moved onto the nearest restaurant come pub come club. It didn’t take long before the trio were carving it up with the locals. This was our first experience of real South American dancing…and no, swing is not a inebriated past time! The evening closed with a hotdog before crashing fully clothed on top of the sheets back at the hostel…
30 November
A team decision was made to explore La Serena so we strolled towards the main street in search of a bus that would hopefully take us Conquimbe Beach. The last time I caught a bus was in Standard 3 so jumping aboard a mode of transport requiring nothing more than patience was pure bliss. This ecstasy was short lived as we had no idea when to get off and the further we drove the less appealing the scenery became. We realised we’d gone too far when the bus made a loop so we hopped off and made tracks for the nearest beach. Hanging and hot, the slippery sea was a welcome reprieve. Despite being advised not to expose ourselves to the sun between 12pm and 3pm we had managed to do exactly that…but it was sooo good. Smothered in sunscreen we lay sprawled on some distant Chilean beach for a good couple hours before thumbing down a taxi bound for the cinemas. Our bus to Mendoza, Argentina was departing at 10pm so and craving for 1st world entertainment drew us to 007 Quantum of a Solace…which was followed by Body of Lies! 6 hours in darkness made us somewhat delirious as we mowed through what must be a national speciality, a hot dog. We packed in high spirits, our minds and mouths firing notions of fine wine and tender Argentinean steaks.
Bolivian Salt Flats and San Pedro de Atacama (Chile)
This entry covers 25 to 27 November
25 November
I started wondering whether luck is one of those untouchables that you can get good at if you practice enough. Following a 13 hour gyrating bus ride through nowhere requiring 2 sets of no shows in order to make it all the way to Uyuni, we had somehow arrived shaken but not stirred. Bumped into Jonas who I met in La Paz as we climbed off the bus and the 3 of us headed straight for one of the countless agencies in this one horse town to see if we could squeeze onto a 3 day tour of the flats...you guessed it, 3 spots left so we coughed up the cash and decided to celebrate the fact that we'd successfully saved ourselves at least 1 day in this "race around the world" with a shower and full breakfast.
Like sardines, 7 tourists and the driver shifted hips until the Land Cruiser's doors could close and we were off (Theresa, Jonas, Geoff, Sian, Janick and Fanny).
First up was the 80 year old railway cemetry in the desert...felt a bit like the elephant's cemetry in the Lion King without the jibbering laughter of the hyena's! A couple of photo's of us clambering the sizzling iron skeleton and we were off to a tumble weed village (if you could call it a village) where salt is refined from the surrounding salt flats. We only got half the story (in Spanish) as half way through seperation and sedimentation the tour guide collapsed in an epileptic fit. Needless to say, Team Cruiser decided to give up salt for lent! Without further a dew the Cruiser was careering through vast white nothingness to what was believed to be a museum made exclusively from salt...we were not dissapointed! This place was amazing. Everything from tables and chairs to grandfather clocks and bed bases were all sculpted out of salt. After a solid team lick of the dining room table we departed intrigued and thirsty!
The next spot was truely spectacular in its absurdness and contrast...hundreds and thousands of years ago Fish Mountain (what a shait tourist name!) was one of many islands in the middle of a lake and many millenia before that a lump of coral at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Picture the scene....3600m above sea level in the middle of the vast expanse of salt flats, an island of ancient coral covered in cacti whose seeds germinated around the birth of Jesus...After a dodgy lunch Team Cruiser headed onto the flats to take the much spoken about photos without perspective. It turned out to be a lot trickier than anticipated as the distances between the camera, object in the fore and background needs to be juuuust right. After about an hour messing about, we high 5'd and squashed back into the Cruiser.
Despite the many hundreds of kilometers travelled and the claustrophobic conditions, the uniqueness of the landscape made it a breeze and pulling up to the salty hotel there was an apparent air of revelry amongst the crew. After dumping our backpacks on the beds we made tracks for the nearest bottle store and picked up some local rum and coke. I'm not quite sure whether to blame the altitude, the rum or the fact that we were in one of the most remoat places on the planet but the post dinner conversation would have made hippies proud...vague recollection of topics included questioning Chile's rude kidnapping of the moon to green flamingoes in the desert...
26 November
Day 2 was the longest in the Cruiser. We all had a turn to play DJ in the front seat next to our mute tour guide. I decided to give the crew a taste of South African music which ranged from Johnny Clegg to Dozi (which the Dutch speakers appreciated!). This entertainment was nothing compared to the mind blowing scenery we were being treated to…the infamous lagunas nestled amongst towering volcanoes which splurged ancient rivers of red iron deposits over Mars like landscapes. In a similar fashion to the Dakar Rally we powered our way through the beautiful desert which had been peppered by gigantic meteors from eruptions from another era…We made pit stops at each of the green, red and blue lagoons, home to huge flocks of flamingos and other birdlife all at over 3000m above sea level…no words nor photographs can do this truly spectacular place justice!
We reached our final hostel thirsty and we proceeded to get absolutely smoked playing speed and shithead in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
27 November
Our 4am start was seriously messy…I couldn’t find my passport and once we finally got going, we ended up leaving Jonas behind! Dazed, confused and feeling severely hungover we lurched and blinked at powerful sulphuric geysers and then found ourselves flopping around half naked in steaming hot springs…a cure for nausea although highly inaccessible!
The rest of the morning was spent searching for the illusive Bolivian border post where a bus was supposed to be waiting to take us into the town of San Pedro de Atacama. 2 hours later and 45 team photos later and the bus finally made its appearance between the dunes. Tiredness turned to delirious giggling as Jonas, Theresa and I giggling in a 3 way spoon position until we reached border control. We finally reached San Pedro de Atacama around midday and headed straight for the bus station to see if we could book a ticket to La Serena as part of our mission to reach Mendoza in Argentina as soon a humanly possible. We got lucky and secured 3 seats leaving at 19:30 leaving us a couple hours to explore this Wild West town in the north of Chile. The grid like gravel streets lay between beautifully clean Spanish architecture although there was an obvious tourist flavour with numerous agencies, pizza dens and markets selling local bits and pieces. We smashed a pizza and decided to take some time out watching soccer in the shade of a pavilion for the afternoon. The searing heat lured me to take the plunge and explore my theatrical skills in requesting an ice cream…this turned out to be quite an entertaining experience as acting chilly didn’t suffice so I had to resort to licking an imaginary ice cream…you can only imagine the responses I received instead of receiving the desired ice cream!
The loose trio made tracks for the bus station well in time for our departure only to discover the bus we thought was heading south was actually due north. We scrambled around the corner to the front desk where we informed that our bus had left 45 minutes earlier…we checked our tickets and rechecked the time before glancing up at the clerk who smugly smiled at us while pointing at the clock on the wall…a 1 hour change in time zones had screwed us and had been left stranded in this one horse town. A weird sensation flooded our exhausted backpacking brains…pissed off but pretty chilled that our “Race Around the World” had amazingly encountered its first glitch. As quickly as tossing a overripe apple, we promptly booked the next bus leaving at 14.15 the next day and crashed into the nearest hostel we could find. The trio started plotting the next phase of the trip…hiring a car from La Serena over the Andes and into the wine lands of Mendoza, Argentina.
25 November
I started wondering whether luck is one of those untouchables that you can get good at if you practice enough. Following a 13 hour gyrating bus ride through nowhere requiring 2 sets of no shows in order to make it all the way to Uyuni, we had somehow arrived shaken but not stirred. Bumped into Jonas who I met in La Paz as we climbed off the bus and the 3 of us headed straight for one of the countless agencies in this one horse town to see if we could squeeze onto a 3 day tour of the flats...you guessed it, 3 spots left so we coughed up the cash and decided to celebrate the fact that we'd successfully saved ourselves at least 1 day in this "race around the world" with a shower and full breakfast.
Like sardines, 7 tourists and the driver shifted hips until the Land Cruiser's doors could close and we were off (Theresa, Jonas, Geoff, Sian, Janick and Fanny).
First up was the 80 year old railway cemetry in the desert...felt a bit like the elephant's cemetry in the Lion King without the jibbering laughter of the hyena's! A couple of photo's of us clambering the sizzling iron skeleton and we were off to a tumble weed village (if you could call it a village) where salt is refined from the surrounding salt flats. We only got half the story (in Spanish) as half way through seperation and sedimentation the tour guide collapsed in an epileptic fit. Needless to say, Team Cruiser decided to give up salt for lent! Without further a dew the Cruiser was careering through vast white nothingness to what was believed to be a museum made exclusively from salt...we were not dissapointed! This place was amazing. Everything from tables and chairs to grandfather clocks and bed bases were all sculpted out of salt. After a solid team lick of the dining room table we departed intrigued and thirsty!
The next spot was truely spectacular in its absurdness and contrast...hundreds and thousands of years ago Fish Mountain (what a shait tourist name!) was one of many islands in the middle of a lake and many millenia before that a lump of coral at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Picture the scene....3600m above sea level in the middle of the vast expanse of salt flats, an island of ancient coral covered in cacti whose seeds germinated around the birth of Jesus...After a dodgy lunch Team Cruiser headed onto the flats to take the much spoken about photos without perspective. It turned out to be a lot trickier than anticipated as the distances between the camera, object in the fore and background needs to be juuuust right. After about an hour messing about, we high 5'd and squashed back into the Cruiser.
Despite the many hundreds of kilometers travelled and the claustrophobic conditions, the uniqueness of the landscape made it a breeze and pulling up to the salty hotel there was an apparent air of revelry amongst the crew. After dumping our backpacks on the beds we made tracks for the nearest bottle store and picked up some local rum and coke. I'm not quite sure whether to blame the altitude, the rum or the fact that we were in one of the most remoat places on the planet but the post dinner conversation would have made hippies proud...vague recollection of topics included questioning Chile's rude kidnapping of the moon to green flamingoes in the desert...
26 November
Day 2 was the longest in the Cruiser. We all had a turn to play DJ in the front seat next to our mute tour guide. I decided to give the crew a taste of South African music which ranged from Johnny Clegg to Dozi (which the Dutch speakers appreciated!). This entertainment was nothing compared to the mind blowing scenery we were being treated to…the infamous lagunas nestled amongst towering volcanoes which splurged ancient rivers of red iron deposits over Mars like landscapes. In a similar fashion to the Dakar Rally we powered our way through the beautiful desert which had been peppered by gigantic meteors from eruptions from another era…We made pit stops at each of the green, red and blue lagoons, home to huge flocks of flamingos and other birdlife all at over 3000m above sea level…no words nor photographs can do this truly spectacular place justice!
We reached our final hostel thirsty and we proceeded to get absolutely smoked playing speed and shithead in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
27 November
Our 4am start was seriously messy…I couldn’t find my passport and once we finally got going, we ended up leaving Jonas behind! Dazed, confused and feeling severely hungover we lurched and blinked at powerful sulphuric geysers and then found ourselves flopping around half naked in steaming hot springs…a cure for nausea although highly inaccessible!
The rest of the morning was spent searching for the illusive Bolivian border post where a bus was supposed to be waiting to take us into the town of San Pedro de Atacama. 2 hours later and 45 team photos later and the bus finally made its appearance between the dunes. Tiredness turned to delirious giggling as Jonas, Theresa and I giggling in a 3 way spoon position until we reached border control. We finally reached San Pedro de Atacama around midday and headed straight for the bus station to see if we could book a ticket to La Serena as part of our mission to reach Mendoza in Argentina as soon a humanly possible. We got lucky and secured 3 seats leaving at 19:30 leaving us a couple hours to explore this Wild West town in the north of Chile. The grid like gravel streets lay between beautifully clean Spanish architecture although there was an obvious tourist flavour with numerous agencies, pizza dens and markets selling local bits and pieces. We smashed a pizza and decided to take some time out watching soccer in the shade of a pavilion for the afternoon. The searing heat lured me to take the plunge and explore my theatrical skills in requesting an ice cream…this turned out to be quite an entertaining experience as acting chilly didn’t suffice so I had to resort to licking an imaginary ice cream…you can only imagine the responses I received instead of receiving the desired ice cream!
The loose trio made tracks for the bus station well in time for our departure only to discover the bus we thought was heading south was actually due north. We scrambled around the corner to the front desk where we informed that our bus had left 45 minutes earlier…we checked our tickets and rechecked the time before glancing up at the clerk who smugly smiled at us while pointing at the clock on the wall…a 1 hour change in time zones had screwed us and had been left stranded in this one horse town. A weird sensation flooded our exhausted backpacking brains…pissed off but pretty chilled that our “Race Around the World” had amazingly encountered its first glitch. As quickly as tossing a overripe apple, we promptly booked the next bus leaving at 14.15 the next day and crashed into the nearest hostel we could find. The trio started plotting the next phase of the trip…hiring a car from La Serena over the Andes and into the wine lands of Mendoza, Argentina.
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