8 hours south of the border and 10 hours south of Tupiza, and it feels like we are in another world. You can tell instantly the difference in the Argentine economy. From the bus stations, to the cars, to the way people dress, to how much a hostal costs, you can tell we are in a city, but not just a city like La Paz was a city, but a city in a country with a bit more moola.
Salta is a pleasant place with tree lined parks, wide sidewalks and colonial architecture. It is a place that has a familiar feel to it and it is hard to place exactly where that comes from. You feel like less of an outsider here, which probably stems from the fact that the Spanish influence is felt a little stronger...
Apparently, it was a holiday here, so perhaps we will wake up to chaos tomorrow... but people are a little politer, occasionally a car will pause to let us cross at the corner as opposed to a made dash of whoever is the most macho...
We are now down at 1200m above sea level so the air is warm, even at night.. and it feels kind of like spring as the leaves on some trees are bright green and the birds chirp happily.
We arrived in the middle of the night and as always tried to steer clear of the touts.... who kindly left us alone when we told them we were going elsewhere....We took a cab (with a meter!!) to a proposed hostal... Someway or another (not sure whether it was a miscommunication on their part or ours) we ended up in a dormitory room, thinking we were getting a room with two beds... too tired to care we tiptoed past the sleeping people and attempted to dodge their stuff which was EVERYWHERE and we crashed into bed.
This morning we went to one of the places a tout was recommending and for the same price as both of us in a dormitory we got a room in a really cute hostal... It is way too early to be thinking that touts are different here from elsewhere.. but we can only hope.
We booked a bus for a small fortune (but with no cheap options here) to Mendoza. We will chill the day in Salta tomorrow and then take an 18 hour trip to Mendoza, which for about 50 USD each had better be a palace (apparently it is full cama and you even get a choice of whiskey or wine... we are still jaded Bolivian style so we aren´t expecting anything until it materialises).....
Friday, December 08, 2006
Bolivia-Peru: Memories... like the something, something of your eye
Peru:
Touts: shudder
Machu Picchu: Tourist meca that it is... what an amazing site.
Gringo Trail: Ever so well defined it is both a blessing and an encomberance
Desert: Not exactly how we pictured so much of Peru, but it makes up almost the entire coastline.
Lomo Saltado: Just add some cheese curds and it could be a really wicked poutine
Markets: Your best bet for cheap eats and always iffy on the hygene.
Weavings and Knittings: Amazing quality, design and colour
Shoeshine Kids: Doesn´t matter if you are wearing sandals, they still think they can shine them
Buses: Not quite as easy to pick up as Ecuador, but we are talking longer hauls now, and from seat, to semi cama to cama, they vary widely.
Sopa: So much better in the north, and how does it always vary so widely?
Bolivia:
Roads: Did we drive on paved roads?? We did, but from river beds to one lane dirt switched back horrors, it is always a gamble.
¨Jeeps¨: aka Toyota Land Cruiser... always of variable health and always stuffed with as many people as they can fit in.
Gringo Trail: We thought it was would be less so in Bolvia, but as it turns out there are a few less people in Bolivia, so you end up seeing people and recognising them even more...
Amazon: We just touched the very tip of it... from fire ants to tarantulas we would love to go back
Rurre: Tranquillo
La Paz Witches Market: You just can´t forget the smell of dried llama fetuses
Empanadas and Salteñas: So cheap, so good... how can something so small make you so sick for so long
South-Western Bolivia: Dirt roads, poverty, small rambleshackle towns, but blessed with amazing mineral and windswept scenery.
Dynamite: Just over 1 USD for a stick... and you can blow it up in that hill over there..
Bolivian Time: Like Peruvian and Ecuadorian time, except 30minutes later.
Pink Toilet Paper: No idea why, but it was bright pink!
Touts: shudder
Machu Picchu: Tourist meca that it is... what an amazing site.
Gringo Trail: Ever so well defined it is both a blessing and an encomberance
Desert: Not exactly how we pictured so much of Peru, but it makes up almost the entire coastline.
Lomo Saltado: Just add some cheese curds and it could be a really wicked poutine
Markets: Your best bet for cheap eats and always iffy on the hygene.
Weavings and Knittings: Amazing quality, design and colour
Shoeshine Kids: Doesn´t matter if you are wearing sandals, they still think they can shine them
Buses: Not quite as easy to pick up as Ecuador, but we are talking longer hauls now, and from seat, to semi cama to cama, they vary widely.
Sopa: So much better in the north, and how does it always vary so widely?
Bolivia:
Roads: Did we drive on paved roads?? We did, but from river beds to one lane dirt switched back horrors, it is always a gamble.
¨Jeeps¨: aka Toyota Land Cruiser... always of variable health and always stuffed with as many people as they can fit in.
Gringo Trail: We thought it was would be less so in Bolvia, but as it turns out there are a few less people in Bolivia, so you end up seeing people and recognising them even more...
Amazon: We just touched the very tip of it... from fire ants to tarantulas we would love to go back
Rurre: Tranquillo
La Paz Witches Market: You just can´t forget the smell of dried llama fetuses
Empanadas and Salteñas: So cheap, so good... how can something so small make you so sick for so long
South-Western Bolivia: Dirt roads, poverty, small rambleshackle towns, but blessed with amazing mineral and windswept scenery.
Dynamite: Just over 1 USD for a stick... and you can blow it up in that hill over there..
Bolivian Time: Like Peruvian and Ecuadorian time, except 30minutes later.
Pink Toilet Paper: No idea why, but it was bright pink!
Bolivia-Argentina: Border Crossing Glee
The morning of the proposed border crossing started off plensently with a three hour train ride to the border town. Train was late and buying tickets was a bit of a gong show, but cheap tickets were bought and it was defintely decidely less scary than a Jeep ride.
We began our walk from the train station to the border and then did something we knew better than to do, but did anyway... we decided to buy a ticket from the border town to Salta, Argentina (where we wanted to go that night) from an office on the Bolivian side. Argentine buses are a lot more money than their Bolivian counterparts, but come with more frills and paved roads. We were then escorted to the border by the bus company as the bus departed from the other side, something we didn´t really take the time to ask (this is where we knew better). Bolivian side was all gravy, but then we took in the line which snaked and curled around the customs office for Argentina.
With a sigh we got in line and we sat and sat and sat and didn´t move. Our bus was to leave in two hours, but that time slowly dwindled away.... soon other people who had bought tickets from the same company, and were behind us began to complain and bitch... And of course the sqeeky wheel gets the grease and they were the first gringos (of a country which will remain unamed) to get a lesson in the politics of the border.
After they got their express pass through the line... we started to get annoyed and were the typical polite Canadians about it and just cast dirty looks and checked our watches. It finally came down to Justine taking both passports and quietly slipping into the head of the line... which was fine because it wasn´t the gringos holding up things it was locals who seem to require a lot of photocopies and documentation. Both passports were stamped in a matter of one or two minutes..... and then we were waiting in line again to get our bags searched. Apparently, the people who search bags also have to do the dog sniffing of buses etc... So we were waiting again..
Finally, finally three hours later we were through... and our bus had left... Not to worry, another one was leaving in two hours. Then we were told there were no Casa De Cambios (money changers) on this side of the border... they were all back where we had started.. ARG. And without being stamped back into Bolivia, we could not cross...
We managed to get money changed for American Dollars from the bus station (because they all love the dinero from the ol´ US of A), although not at a great rate. Then we sat and waited at a tiny, tiny bus station that was chalk full of people who had just finished stuffing huge sacks full of bras and shirts and toys bought in Bolivia and brought over to selll in some street market somewhere. It was chaos, people were sitting on the ground, both inside and out, and let us tell you the building is not that big... We then realised we over paid for our bus ticket. We are talking 5 dollars each here.. which doesnt sound like much.. but down here that is huge.. and with our budget situation a deal breaker.... but part and parcel of life none the less.
Of course we thought, hay Argentina.. buses are on time and uber nice... so we have heard.
This is still northern Argentina...next to the border with Bolivia...
Our bus was 45 min late, and was the kind of a retrofitted bus, which once held only a handful of people and now could take over 70. Oh well, we thought, at least we get a view... no they had decalled the bus and our seat had a decal that you had to strain to see over.
But lets not complain here because every border crossing is an adventure.... and after an 8 hour bus ride we were in Salta... and it feels a world away from 8 hours north!!!
We began our walk from the train station to the border and then did something we knew better than to do, but did anyway... we decided to buy a ticket from the border town to Salta, Argentina (where we wanted to go that night) from an office on the Bolivian side. Argentine buses are a lot more money than their Bolivian counterparts, but come with more frills and paved roads. We were then escorted to the border by the bus company as the bus departed from the other side, something we didn´t really take the time to ask (this is where we knew better). Bolivian side was all gravy, but then we took in the line which snaked and curled around the customs office for Argentina.
With a sigh we got in line and we sat and sat and sat and didn´t move. Our bus was to leave in two hours, but that time slowly dwindled away.... soon other people who had bought tickets from the same company, and were behind us began to complain and bitch... And of course the sqeeky wheel gets the grease and they were the first gringos (of a country which will remain unamed) to get a lesson in the politics of the border.
After they got their express pass through the line... we started to get annoyed and were the typical polite Canadians about it and just cast dirty looks and checked our watches. It finally came down to Justine taking both passports and quietly slipping into the head of the line... which was fine because it wasn´t the gringos holding up things it was locals who seem to require a lot of photocopies and documentation. Both passports were stamped in a matter of one or two minutes..... and then we were waiting in line again to get our bags searched. Apparently, the people who search bags also have to do the dog sniffing of buses etc... So we were waiting again..
Finally, finally three hours later we were through... and our bus had left... Not to worry, another one was leaving in two hours. Then we were told there were no Casa De Cambios (money changers) on this side of the border... they were all back where we had started.. ARG. And without being stamped back into Bolivia, we could not cross...
We managed to get money changed for American Dollars from the bus station (because they all love the dinero from the ol´ US of A), although not at a great rate. Then we sat and waited at a tiny, tiny bus station that was chalk full of people who had just finished stuffing huge sacks full of bras and shirts and toys bought in Bolivia and brought over to selll in some street market somewhere. It was chaos, people were sitting on the ground, both inside and out, and let us tell you the building is not that big... We then realised we over paid for our bus ticket. We are talking 5 dollars each here.. which doesnt sound like much.. but down here that is huge.. and with our budget situation a deal breaker.... but part and parcel of life none the less.
Of course we thought, hay Argentina.. buses are on time and uber nice... so we have heard.
This is still northern Argentina...next to the border with Bolivia...
Our bus was 45 min late, and was the kind of a retrofitted bus, which once held only a handful of people and now could take over 70. Oh well, we thought, at least we get a view... no they had decalled the bus and our seat had a decal that you had to strain to see over.
But lets not complain here because every border crossing is an adventure.... and after an 8 hour bus ride we were in Salta... and it feels a world away from 8 hours north!!!
Tupiza: Butch Cassidy and the SuperKid
So we cowpoked our sore asses through five hours of horseback riding.... for the low, low price of around 20 CAD. Our trusty steads Sanchez and Rosario plodded and galloped through amazing scenery of rich mineral red mountains, grey erroding mountains, rock pillars and cliffs.
It was beautiful and peaceful, as it is clearly off season in Tupiza and we only saw a few other people. The day included some off time from the horses where you can scramble through a few tighter places to see more rock pillars and phalic like formations.
We came back and took a cool dip in the pool and attempted to numb our butts with beer left over from the Salar trip.
It was beautiful and peaceful, as it is clearly off season in Tupiza and we only saw a few other people. The day included some off time from the horses where you can scramble through a few tighter places to see more rock pillars and phalic like formations.
We came back and took a cool dip in the pool and attempted to numb our butts with beer left over from the Salar trip.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Atocha-Tupiza: River Bed Off´-Roading
Sigh, another early morning lesson in flexibiility.
The plan was ever so simple: we were to catch another Land Cruiser, this time from Uyuni to Tupiza and it was to leave at 5am. We were just going to go the night before to buy the ticket, but our tour agency advised us to buy the ticket before we left for the Salt Plains. So we did. First mistake.
Second mistake we bought with only a few minutes before our tour was leaving so we didn´t actually scope out the other bus companies or trust our gut feeling on the guy selling the ticket, who clearly didn´t know what the hell he was doing.
So we showed up at the bus area at 430am only to find our bus agency closed up and the only two other companies open, claiming the jeep had left the day before in the afternoon. The two touts for the companies both tried to convince us to buy tickets with them and go to Atocha and ask for our money back for the tickets we had at the Company´s office there. Then to go from Atocha to Tupiza... this did not sound like a good idea because this is definitely not Canada and refunds don´t come easily, especially when it is from an office in a different town.
So we opted to stay and figure it out, which would probably mean another night in Uyuni. Finally the one Jeep leaving for Atocha wasn´t going to be full, so they offered to take us for free to Atocha and they would get the cost back for the ticket from our company themselves. After a lot of questions, we figured what the hell...
So we soon found ourselves driving on more dirt roads, squished into another jeep. The dirt roads soon turned to a river bed which was not entirely dry, but seemed to serve as the highway... not sure what happens when rainy season fully hits. Our jeep broke down 1 km from Atocha in the middle of the river just after a rather deep river fjord.... but was soon fixed and we found ourselves in Atocha....
Justine kept a firm grip on the ticket in question and after about a half hour actually had a ticket from Atocha to Uyuni, without having to pay more, no real haggling... it was amazing and completely unbelievable.
Only thing was that their jeep didn´t leave until 10.30am.. Fine.. so we spent three hours playing cards, boggle and yahtzee... all the while listening to the lady in the company talk about what an idiot whoever sold us the tickets in the first place was etc... Personally we still can´t believe she let us go on through.. usually this ends in the tourists being scammed and having to pay more...
But, things were looking up.... however, now instead of the front seats of the jeep we had booked originally, we now found ourselves in the very back. The Land Cruiser can probably normally hold at most 6 people and we now found ourselves 10 people plus the driver. We were ever so pleased to be squished into the back with two seats parallel to the windows, so that four of us had to share leg room and face each other in the very back. The Land Cruiser, as with every vehicle in SA, was of questionable health and for that matter so was our driver, who must have been pushing 70, could barely see over the steering wheel and was the kind of fellow that the Drivers Liscencing office in Ontario would have taken one look, laughed and refused his liscence without a test (the Yukon might have given him one though...). But no, no, that didn´t stop him; our driver appeared to believe he was still a spry young lad and was soon flying over the river bed highway... this was fine and dandy because it was kind of damp and the dust was low.
But then we hit the highlands and were climbing, climbing, climbing.... flying around blind corners, on a single lane dirt road (of course used for double direction traffic) that rivels the Yukon´s worst roads for bumps. The scenery was utterly spectacular passing through high altiplano with volcanoes shrowed in clouds, while swerving past jumping llamas and sheep. Rock outcrops, half erroded flew by and changed from dark grey, yellow to deep red as we dove up and down past cacti and oasis trees. The scenery was terrifyingly amazing and the trip was utterly frightening for many reasons which we shall not name. Lets just say the 4.5hour trip took under 3 hours.
Thankfully we are now safe in Tupiza and relaxing in our hostal with free breakfast and CNN (in english in our room!!!!). There is also a pool.
We are contemplating a horse ride into the amazing scenic badlands of erroded rock pillars, rich mineral mountains and surreal banded rock mountains (who knows maybe we will look for the ghosts of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid). But a day or two of chilling here in the one horse town of Tupiza doesn´t hurt... especially because plans are in the works for a change of routes down to the south of SA... but more to come on that later..
The plan was ever so simple: we were to catch another Land Cruiser, this time from Uyuni to Tupiza and it was to leave at 5am. We were just going to go the night before to buy the ticket, but our tour agency advised us to buy the ticket before we left for the Salt Plains. So we did. First mistake.
Second mistake we bought with only a few minutes before our tour was leaving so we didn´t actually scope out the other bus companies or trust our gut feeling on the guy selling the ticket, who clearly didn´t know what the hell he was doing.
So we showed up at the bus area at 430am only to find our bus agency closed up and the only two other companies open, claiming the jeep had left the day before in the afternoon. The two touts for the companies both tried to convince us to buy tickets with them and go to Atocha and ask for our money back for the tickets we had at the Company´s office there. Then to go from Atocha to Tupiza... this did not sound like a good idea because this is definitely not Canada and refunds don´t come easily, especially when it is from an office in a different town.
So we opted to stay and figure it out, which would probably mean another night in Uyuni. Finally the one Jeep leaving for Atocha wasn´t going to be full, so they offered to take us for free to Atocha and they would get the cost back for the ticket from our company themselves. After a lot of questions, we figured what the hell...
So we soon found ourselves driving on more dirt roads, squished into another jeep. The dirt roads soon turned to a river bed which was not entirely dry, but seemed to serve as the highway... not sure what happens when rainy season fully hits. Our jeep broke down 1 km from Atocha in the middle of the river just after a rather deep river fjord.... but was soon fixed and we found ourselves in Atocha....
Justine kept a firm grip on the ticket in question and after about a half hour actually had a ticket from Atocha to Uyuni, without having to pay more, no real haggling... it was amazing and completely unbelievable.
Only thing was that their jeep didn´t leave until 10.30am.. Fine.. so we spent three hours playing cards, boggle and yahtzee... all the while listening to the lady in the company talk about what an idiot whoever sold us the tickets in the first place was etc... Personally we still can´t believe she let us go on through.. usually this ends in the tourists being scammed and having to pay more...
But, things were looking up.... however, now instead of the front seats of the jeep we had booked originally, we now found ourselves in the very back. The Land Cruiser can probably normally hold at most 6 people and we now found ourselves 10 people plus the driver. We were ever so pleased to be squished into the back with two seats parallel to the windows, so that four of us had to share leg room and face each other in the very back. The Land Cruiser, as with every vehicle in SA, was of questionable health and for that matter so was our driver, who must have been pushing 70, could barely see over the steering wheel and was the kind of fellow that the Drivers Liscencing office in Ontario would have taken one look, laughed and refused his liscence without a test (the Yukon might have given him one though...). But no, no, that didn´t stop him; our driver appeared to believe he was still a spry young lad and was soon flying over the river bed highway... this was fine and dandy because it was kind of damp and the dust was low.
But then we hit the highlands and were climbing, climbing, climbing.... flying around blind corners, on a single lane dirt road (of course used for double direction traffic) that rivels the Yukon´s worst roads for bumps. The scenery was utterly spectacular passing through high altiplano with volcanoes shrowed in clouds, while swerving past jumping llamas and sheep. Rock outcrops, half erroded flew by and changed from dark grey, yellow to deep red as we dove up and down past cacti and oasis trees. The scenery was terrifyingly amazing and the trip was utterly frightening for many reasons which we shall not name. Lets just say the 4.5hour trip took under 3 hours.
Thankfully we are now safe in Tupiza and relaxing in our hostal with free breakfast and CNN (in english in our room!!!!). There is also a pool.
We are contemplating a horse ride into the amazing scenic badlands of erroded rock pillars, rich mineral mountains and surreal banded rock mountains (who knows maybe we will look for the ghosts of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid). But a day or two of chilling here in the one horse town of Tupiza doesn´t hurt... especially because plans are in the works for a change of routes down to the south of SA... but more to come on that later..
Salar de Uyuni: Marfa, Dali and the Llamas
So we could give you the play by play of the three day tour... but it would just make such an amazing trip seem so boring.
The first day of course takes in the Salar de Uyuni, the highest salt plains in the world which occupy 12,000 SKM and even more in the rainy season. They lie at around 3600m above sea level and stretch in every direction into a hallucinagenic world. Mountains and volcanoes lie far into the horizon and appear to float in water above the blindingly white plains. Not white like Jessica Simpson´s teeth or like first snow on Christmas morning, but white like the last white you see before your retina is burned to a crisp. You fly across the salt plains in your jeep, in fact in a convoy of jeeps with all the other tours doing the same stops, and you take in a few salt hotels and processing plants, salt piles (where they collect the salt) and an island of cacti in the middle of the salt flats. In fact the salt plains were once at the bottom of a giant inland sea, and even now the salt forms at the top of a lake which at some points is up to 8m deep. This can be quite dangerous in some parts as the salt is a crusty layer, eerily similar to ice.
From there you drive as fast as you can off the flats, as getting stuck there in the rainy season can result in rain hiding the safe routes and potholes which could maroon your vehicle or send you under the salt crust. Night is spent in basic accomodations, but not before you dodge a few llamas grazing on the sparse grass of the high altiplano.
Following days are spent mostly driving, sucking dirt and attempting to arrange your cramped, crushed legs in some sort of comfortable position. Stops include high alititude lakes with thousands of flamingos, wind and water erroded rocks once at the bottom of the sea and now shaped into buttresses, windows and trees. More fun is found rising at 4am to see bubbling geysers and mud pots in first light and then of course soaking in hot springs while drinking morning beer with your cereal. All the while the other wordly landscape flies by amid the dust as you past red red mountains and deserts of rock. Endangered vicunas are pretty much the only animals that can survive off the sparse grass, and that is when it grows because in many places it is too dry and too high to have anything but rocks.
Our group was pretty good considering and we had fun listening to the same two SA panpipe dance remix cassettes on the tape deck. The Irish lads kept the nights interesting... and surprisingly we all made it back to Uyuni with only one flat tire.
The first day of course takes in the Salar de Uyuni, the highest salt plains in the world which occupy 12,000 SKM and even more in the rainy season. They lie at around 3600m above sea level and stretch in every direction into a hallucinagenic world. Mountains and volcanoes lie far into the horizon and appear to float in water above the blindingly white plains. Not white like Jessica Simpson´s teeth or like first snow on Christmas morning, but white like the last white you see before your retina is burned to a crisp. You fly across the salt plains in your jeep, in fact in a convoy of jeeps with all the other tours doing the same stops, and you take in a few salt hotels and processing plants, salt piles (where they collect the salt) and an island of cacti in the middle of the salt flats. In fact the salt plains were once at the bottom of a giant inland sea, and even now the salt forms at the top of a lake which at some points is up to 8m deep. This can be quite dangerous in some parts as the salt is a crusty layer, eerily similar to ice.
From there you drive as fast as you can off the flats, as getting stuck there in the rainy season can result in rain hiding the safe routes and potholes which could maroon your vehicle or send you under the salt crust. Night is spent in basic accomodations, but not before you dodge a few llamas grazing on the sparse grass of the high altiplano.
Following days are spent mostly driving, sucking dirt and attempting to arrange your cramped, crushed legs in some sort of comfortable position. Stops include high alititude lakes with thousands of flamingos, wind and water erroded rocks once at the bottom of the sea and now shaped into buttresses, windows and trees. More fun is found rising at 4am to see bubbling geysers and mud pots in first light and then of course soaking in hot springs while drinking morning beer with your cereal. All the while the other wordly landscape flies by amid the dust as you past red red mountains and deserts of rock. Endangered vicunas are pretty much the only animals that can survive off the sparse grass, and that is when it grows because in many places it is too dry and too high to have anything but rocks.
Our group was pretty good considering and we had fun listening to the same two SA panpipe dance remix cassettes on the tape deck. The Irish lads kept the nights interesting... and surprisingly we all made it back to Uyuni with only one flat tire.
Uyuni: A lesson in flexibility
Our departure from Potosi was to take us to Tupiza, but after some excitement at the bus station, we ended up in Uyuni.
The bus to Tupiza was scheduled to leave Potosi at around 7:30am. So, we arrived at the bus station by 6:20am, but as we entered the station we heard quite the commotion. We saw another traveller that was raising quite the ruckus at one of the ticket counters, and was calling for the tourist police. As we were the only other gringos in the joint, we decided to go and see if we could help her. We soon discovered that she was trying to get to La Paz for a 9pm (that evening) flight that she had to catch, that she had been told at the frontier to go to Potosi as there would be a morning bus to La Paz (no morning buses only night buses). In the process she had left a bag with her camera and some other things on the night bus to Potosi, which when left was then stolen. All this combined with the fact that she wasn´t getting the response from the employees she felt she deserved resulted in a lot of frustration and some tears. After about a half hour, and some translating in Justine´s best attempted Spanish, we managed to help her get a "written" report of her loss on the bus and onto another bus that would connect to La Paz, hopefully getting her there in time for her flight.
After assisting her, we were dismayed to find out that the bus that we wanted was "sold out" of tickets for that morning. All other bus companies that advertised they had buses, did not have a bus that morning. And, the thought of staying in Potosi until 7pm when the next and only bus headed off to Tupiza resulted in us choosing to change our plans and head off to Uyuni.
Our big plans for Uyuni were to do a trip out onto the Salar (Salt Plains). The Salar de Uyuni is the largest salt plain in the world, and we have seen some striking pictures. The trip can be done starting in Tupiza, but most companies start in Uyuni. This is the only reason that tourists end up in this city, and we were quickly aware of this.
We were out and checking out tours rather soon after arriving. As we still had a strong desire to go to Tupiza to check out the scenery there, we were looking to possibly end our trip there. The tour is done in a 4 door Toyota Land Cruiser, with a maximum of 6 tourists, a driver, and a cook all piled in. The Classic Trip is 3 days, and ends back in Uyuni, while the trip that ended in Tupiza is four days. Well, we distressed to discover that in the low season, there is only one company that offers the 4 day tour ending in Tupiza and that with us, they had only 3 confirmed people to make the trip (not enough....needed at least 4).
After some hours of shopping around, and weighing the benefits of agreeing to the 4 day tour, at almost double the price, we agreed to go with it when we were told that they had a 4th person lined up. Uyuni is a small town, and there is only one bank with an ATM. So, we headed over only to discover that we could not get it to work with our cards. We returned to the tour company, and were told that we could pay with Visa for an 8% sur-charge, or that the ATM would be working by 8:30am the next morning, so just leave a deposit. Not confident that the ATM would be working and not willing to pay 8%, we appeared to be quite unhappy with the situation, and therefore not willing to leave the deposit, which we were sure we would not get back if the ATM wasn´t working, or at least would result in us having to wait for a tour as they would not give it back otherwise.
We were at the bank before 8:30, and the machine wasn´t working. We headed back to the agency, to tell them and were also informed that there wasn´t actually a 4th person, and the trip would not be leaving for another day. Needless to say, we were quite happy that we didn´t leave the deposit. So, now the question became, what to do now...all tours leave at 10am.
We scrambled off to the other agencies to find out what we might be able to get on with, and ended up finding a company that we felt good about for about half the price of the 3 day tour(no one had enough people for a four day tour). Again we needed money, and were assured that the bank machine would be working by 9am. So, off we went to try again, but all to no avail. We ended up resigning ourselves to getting a cash withdrawl on our Visa for a 5% sur-charge, but on a lot less money.
Having done all of this, we found ourselves sucking dirt in the back of a Land Cruiser being driven full speed towards the Salar de Uyuni by 11am that morning. Jammed with us were three Isrealies and a Brit along with our driver and a cook, along with another Land Cruiser filled with 7 Irish Lads and their driver.
The bus to Tupiza was scheduled to leave Potosi at around 7:30am. So, we arrived at the bus station by 6:20am, but as we entered the station we heard quite the commotion. We saw another traveller that was raising quite the ruckus at one of the ticket counters, and was calling for the tourist police. As we were the only other gringos in the joint, we decided to go and see if we could help her. We soon discovered that she was trying to get to La Paz for a 9pm (that evening) flight that she had to catch, that she had been told at the frontier to go to Potosi as there would be a morning bus to La Paz (no morning buses only night buses). In the process she had left a bag with her camera and some other things on the night bus to Potosi, which when left was then stolen. All this combined with the fact that she wasn´t getting the response from the employees she felt she deserved resulted in a lot of frustration and some tears. After about a half hour, and some translating in Justine´s best attempted Spanish, we managed to help her get a "written" report of her loss on the bus and onto another bus that would connect to La Paz, hopefully getting her there in time for her flight.
After assisting her, we were dismayed to find out that the bus that we wanted was "sold out" of tickets for that morning. All other bus companies that advertised they had buses, did not have a bus that morning. And, the thought of staying in Potosi until 7pm when the next and only bus headed off to Tupiza resulted in us choosing to change our plans and head off to Uyuni.
Our big plans for Uyuni were to do a trip out onto the Salar (Salt Plains). The Salar de Uyuni is the largest salt plain in the world, and we have seen some striking pictures. The trip can be done starting in Tupiza, but most companies start in Uyuni. This is the only reason that tourists end up in this city, and we were quickly aware of this.
We were out and checking out tours rather soon after arriving. As we still had a strong desire to go to Tupiza to check out the scenery there, we were looking to possibly end our trip there. The tour is done in a 4 door Toyota Land Cruiser, with a maximum of 6 tourists, a driver, and a cook all piled in. The Classic Trip is 3 days, and ends back in Uyuni, while the trip that ended in Tupiza is four days. Well, we distressed to discover that in the low season, there is only one company that offers the 4 day tour ending in Tupiza and that with us, they had only 3 confirmed people to make the trip (not enough....needed at least 4).
After some hours of shopping around, and weighing the benefits of agreeing to the 4 day tour, at almost double the price, we agreed to go with it when we were told that they had a 4th person lined up. Uyuni is a small town, and there is only one bank with an ATM. So, we headed over only to discover that we could not get it to work with our cards. We returned to the tour company, and were told that we could pay with Visa for an 8% sur-charge, or that the ATM would be working by 8:30am the next morning, so just leave a deposit. Not confident that the ATM would be working and not willing to pay 8%, we appeared to be quite unhappy with the situation, and therefore not willing to leave the deposit, which we were sure we would not get back if the ATM wasn´t working, or at least would result in us having to wait for a tour as they would not give it back otherwise.
We were at the bank before 8:30, and the machine wasn´t working. We headed back to the agency, to tell them and were also informed that there wasn´t actually a 4th person, and the trip would not be leaving for another day. Needless to say, we were quite happy that we didn´t leave the deposit. So, now the question became, what to do now...all tours leave at 10am.
We scrambled off to the other agencies to find out what we might be able to get on with, and ended up finding a company that we felt good about for about half the price of the 3 day tour(no one had enough people for a four day tour). Again we needed money, and were assured that the bank machine would be working by 9am. So, off we went to try again, but all to no avail. We ended up resigning ourselves to getting a cash withdrawl on our Visa for a 5% sur-charge, but on a lot less money.
Having done all of this, we found ourselves sucking dirt in the back of a Land Cruiser being driven full speed towards the Salar de Uyuni by 11am that morning. Jammed with us were three Isrealies and a Brit along with our driver and a cook, along with another Land Cruiser filled with 7 Irish Lads and their driver.
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