Llegamos a Montevideo!! (via Argentina)

Fue bastante facil cruzar la frontera a Argentina, aunque tambien un poco raro por el tema de la gripe AH1N1– aparentemente en Argentina esta bastante feo ahora, y estan tomando muchas precauctiones. Tambien es una frontera pesada en el sentido de control de narcotrafico, asi que nos hicieron sacar todo de adentro de la camioneta- fue la unica vez en todo el viaje que nos hicieron hacer eso. Una vez que se dieron cuenta de que lo unico que traiamos nosotros eran nuestras cosas personales llenos de polvo (por las malas carreteras de tierra en Bolivia) - aparte de unas hojitas de coca olvidados en los bolsillos y nos dejaron pasar sin problemas. Lo primero que notamos al cruzar la fronera era que las calles eran pavimentadas, y que todo el mundo tenia acento de Argentina – ya no nos preguntaban de donde eramos! Tambien hay unos homenajes al Gauchito Gil por todos lados, con trapos rojos y agua – una persona que se murio de sed en la ruta, y ahora le dejan agua por todo Argentina. En vez de manejar de noche y perder la parte mas linda del paisaje del norte de Argentina, dormimos en una estacion de policia en la Quiaca. Hacia mucho frio y estabamos medios tristes, pero por lo menos teniamos un techito para no tener mucho frio de noche. Hicimos una sopita de verduras y nos fuimos a dormir. Nos levanto uno de los policias a las 6:30 de la maniana (para nosotros eran las 5:30- otra vez habiamos cambiado la hora) y hacia mucho frio, pero arreglamos todo y salimos de nuevo. Seguia haciendo un frio terrible hasta que bajamos un poco mas de altura, y en Tilcara paramos a tomar un cafecito y comer unas medialunas, en un lugar muy turistico pero lindo igual. La quebrada de humahuaca era precioso, unos cerros de muchos colores que no podes creer! Tambien fue lindisimo manejar en carrteras en buen estado (nos olividamos de contar que tambien eperdimos la placa de adelante en las rutas de Bolivia – se cayo en algun momento!). Despues paramos en San Salvador de Jujuy para comer algo, pero nos sorpredimos que estaba todo cerrado por lo del gripe: el gobierno declaro vacaciones como por un mes para evitar propagar la gripe, y cancelaron todas los funciones en lugares cerrados. Hasta los chicos tienen un par de semanas extra de vacaciones. Sin embargo, las calles de Argentina parecian a las de un pueblo fantasma. Rarisimo, y hasta medio apocaliptico. En Jujuy entramos a comprar un poco de comida en un supermercado grande y nos sorprendio lo vacio que estaba – y a cada rato pasaban anuncios de que hay que dejar un metro entre persona y persona en la fila, y que no hay que saludar dando besos, ni compartir mate; mas raro todavia. Salimos rapido de alli, haciendo unos sandwiches en el camino. La ruta entre Jujuy y Salta es preciosa, entre montanias verdes, aunque fue un poco angosta y parecia mas como un camino de bicicletas que una ruta nacional. Llegamos a Salto de tarde y encontramos un camping municipal que esta buenisimo, con parrilleros y una piscina gigante (que no tenia agua, pero igual estaba bueno para ver!). Hicimos unos morrones con queso a la parrilla, hablamos con los “vecinos” y jugamos con los perros y gatos gorditos en la vuelta. Era rarisimo estar en Argentina – tan cerca pero todavia tan lejos! Empezamos a darnos cuenta de lo lejos que hemos venido y no podiamos creer hasta donde llegamos. Despues de dormir hasta tarde, fue lindisimo levantarse con el ruidito de los pajaros cantando de nuevo (en la altura nos olvidamos de ciertos “ruidos”). Pasamos un buen rato sacando el polvo de las cosas y limpiando la camioneta. De tarde salimos para el sur, hacia Rio Hondo, un lugar al norte de Santiago del Estero donde hay aguas termales. Llegamos a un camping con piscinas termales y a pesar de que hizo mucho frio nos metimos en el agua. Era un lugar lleno de gente que estaba de vacaciones, haciendo fuego y pasando bien. Habia como una rambla al lado del rio donde podiamos ver unos pajaros impresionantes: por suerte Jeulsch nos habia regalado un libro de identificacion de aves de Argentina y Uruguay. A pesar de una desastrosa visita a un restaurant que solo servia chivo y chancho, lo pasamos bien en ese lugar. Salimos al mediodia, manejando muchas horas y solo parando para dormir en un YPF (las estaciones de servicio que tienen duchas calientes y Wi-Fi!). En Argentina hasta en los estaciones de servicio sirven buena comida y vino, y a la maniana tienen rico café con leche (por supuesto lo sirven con medialunas y aguita mineral). (no te agrandes Charlie! Tambien vimos el primer Wal-Mart desde Mexico)
Tan cerca pero todavia tan lejos, terminamos manejando por 15 horas ese ultimo dia en Argentina, solo parando para comer un almuerzo tarde en Parana, al lado del rio con el mismo nombre. A las 9 de la noche llegamos a Concordia, en el rio Uruguay, la cuidad que esta frente a Salto, Uruguay. Estabamos chochos seguiendo el GPS, pensando como unos tontos que habia un puente entre las dos ciudades – en un momento dado termino la calle y casi nos metimos en el rio! Resulto que todavia teniamos que ir 20 km mas al norte para cruzar por la hidroelectrica. Por fin llegamos a la frontera y – riendonos como nenes chicos – nos pusieron los sellos de salida del lado Argentino y caminamos dos pasos para el escritorio de migracion uruguayo (estan en el mismo edificio). Fue facilisimo cruzar esa frontera, y lo que demoro mas fue que todos los que trabajan alli querian saber todo sobre el viaje. Nos decian que no podian creer lo que hicimos, y con ese auto?? “Y sin aire acondicionado??” Hasta insistian que teniamos que llamar al Canal 4 para hacer una entrevista o algo asi. Lo primero que hicimos al cruzar la frontera – despues de sacarnos una foto con el cartel de “Bienvenidos a La Republica Oriental del Uruguay” por supuesto – fue ir a comer unos fainas. Lo unico que podiamos hacer en toda la noche era mirarnos y decir “no puedo creer que llegamos hasta aca”! Fue medio surrealista porque habiamos venido a este lugar unos anios antes con Mau durante las vacaciones de invierno y ya conociamos (la primera vez desde Mexico). Nos quedamos medios mal porque planeabamos ir directo a Las Termas de San Nicanor, un lugar con piscinas termales en el medio del campo, pero estaba cerrado por reformas. Dormimos en la estacion de policia en Salto, bien en frente de las Termas de Dayman. De maniana fuimos de cabeza a las aguas (ya que habiamos pasado mucho frio durante la noche). Todavia comentandonos que no podiamos creer que estamos aca, nos subimos a la camioneta otra vez para ir un poquito mas hacia el sur. Paramos un ratito en Paysandu para comprar una pascualina, unos sandwiches y un postre chaja, y para ir a visitar a Yolanda, la madre de Quique. No nos podiamos acordar donde vivia, y al final seguimos. El camino hasta Montevideo nos parecio eterno, los ultimos 300 kilometros mas largos del viaje! A las 9 de la noche vimos las luces de Montevideo aparecer en la distancia, y seguimos con el “no puedo creer que llegamos hasta aca!” Entrar a la ciudad fue raro, ya que cambiaron las careteras y todo nos parecia diferente. Lo primero que hicimos (por supuesto) fue irnos a nuestra pizzeria favorita, El Tasende, a comprar unas pizzas al tacho. Muy emocionados y sintiendonos medios anonimos estacionamos bien en frente del apartamento de Mimi. Un amigo de Pablo nos dijo que estaba alli en frente, y lo fuimos a buscar y con el Dado, subimos en el ascensor para sorpreder a Mimi. Casi la matamos. Estaba en camison en su cuarto, cuando Mateo asomo la cabecita atrás de la puerta y dijo, “Hola Mimi.” Despues de una llamada por telefono, teniamos a todos aca saludando. Desde alli estamos pasando tiempo hablando con la familia, con amigos, con Dado el perro dalmata y Tango el gato con tres patas, y jugando con lego que mandamos en las cajas que despachamos desde Canada antes de venir – para Mateo fue como abrir regalos en Navidad! Hasta vimos a nuestro amigo ingles, James, que vivia aca cuando estabamos en Montevideo y esta de visita unas semanas. El sol no ha salido mucho desde que llegamos, pero igual es lindo pasar unos dias bien de inverno en Montevideo. Despues de hacer unas cosas que tenemos pendientes aca (incluyendo la tomagrafia de Gustavo en el Hospital Britanico ) estamos locos por llegar a nuestro destino final en unos dias – Punta del Diablo!
No podemos creer que ya estamos hasta aca!

The crossing was relatively easy, although also a bit ominous since there is a lot of worry about the AHN1 flu, which is apparently raging through Argentina right now. On the Argentine side, because this is a pretty important border, we had to take everything out of the westy (everything was just covered in dust that had come in on the bad roads, so when we opened the back door a cloud came out) and have the most thorough search we have had on the trip so far. Once they realized that all we had were our dusty belongings (and a few forgotten coca leaves in our pockets) they let us go. The first thing we noticed upon crossing the border was that the roads were suddenly perfectly paved. Then we noticed that everyone had Argentine accents, and so we no longer stood out! There are also these weird red shrines of all shapes and sizes all over the place put up for “Gauchito Gil,” a guy who apparently died from thirst on the road once upon a time, and now people leave offerings of water for him all over the country! We ended up sleeping in a police station in La Quiaca, just over the border, instead of driving any more in the dark because we had been told that this northernmost part of the country is beautiful and we didn’t want to miss it. It was very cold and we were feeling depressed, but at least we had a little roof over us and were able to make a quick warm soup and get to bed. One of the officers woke us up at 6:30 in the morning (which was 5:30 for us, as we had to set the clocks an hour ahead again). It was very cold, but we managed to pile everything back into the car and drive south until we went down another few hundred metres and it warmed up again. We stopped for a coffee in the town of Tilcara, which was very touristy but a very beautiful setting. The hills in the Quebrada de Humahuaca area are impossibly multi-coloured and beautiful, and as I said before it made a huge difference that the roads were in good shape (we forgot to mention in the last installment that, in the bumping up and down, our front license plate fell off and got lost somewhere in Bolivia…). We stopped in San Salvador de Jujuy with the intention of eating lunch, and were surprised that everything seemed to be closed – apparently the government decaled it a holiday that day as a way to deal with the flu epidemic. Later we found out that they have a whole month off, and all events in enclosed public spaces like theatres, cinema, museums, etc are suspended. Children are even out of school on an extra-long holiday. In Jujuy we went to a supermarket to buy some provisions, and were taken aback not only by the emptiness of the pristine place, but by the announcements on the loudspeakers throughout the store announcing that people should stand at least a metre apart when in line, should not hug or kiss one another, share mate or congregate in enclosed spaces. It was all a bit strange so we got out of there quickly, making and eating our sandwiches as we drove. The drive from Jujuy to Salta was amazingly beautiful, lush and almost tropical even, through this very narrow paved road along the green mountain (which was more like a bike trail than a highway). We got to Salta by late-afternoon and found a great municipal campground with lots of parrilleros and a gigantic swimming pool (which didn’t have any water in it, but was still quite impressive). We made a fire, chatted to our neighbors, and shared our dinner with the many dogs and cats in residence at the campground. It was very strange to actually be in Argentina – so close and yet so far! It already felt like we were there but we still had a long way to go. After a good night’s sleep, it was nice to wake up to the sound of the birds chirping once again (there don’t seem to be many birds chirping above a certain altitude, for some reason). We spent a long time taking everything out of the westy and beating out the dust that had accumulated on the Bolivian roads, then we took off toward Rio Hondo, a place with thermal waters just north of Santiago del Estero. When we got there we found a campground with its own thermal pools, and even though it was freezing cold, we got in and warmed up eventually. The place was crazy, full of families taking advantage of the flu holiday to camp out, make and cook over the fire and enjoy themselves. There was a nice riverside boardwalk from which we could observe the many birds in the area: luckily Juelsch had given us a great identification book of birds of Argentina and Uruguay. We had a good time there, in spite of a disastrous and expensive lunch at a local riverside place that was recommended to us, but that, as it turned out, only served goat and pig meat (!). That afternoon we drove for many hours and only stopped to sleep at a YPF gas station (the ones that all have hot showers and Wi-Fi!). Argentina is something else: even at a truck stop they serve good food and wine, and in the morning we had a nice café con leche, which is automatically served accompanied by a couple of pastries, a glass of mineral water, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. We also saw our first Wal-Mart since Mexico – as I said, you’ve got to love Argentina….
So close and yet still so far, we ended up driving for 15 hours on that last day in Argentina, and only stopping to eat a late lunch in Parana, right on the river of the same name. By around 9 pm we made it to Concordia, which is right on the Uruguay River that borders Uruguay. We were happily following the GPS, thinking that there was a bridge right in town facing Salto: at one point, the road ended and we almost drove right into the river! As it turns out, there is no bridge connecting the two cities (which face each other) directly, and you have to drive 20 km north to a hydroelectric dam in order to cross into Uruguay. We finally got to the border and - feeling slightly giddy - we got our exit stamps on the Argentine side before moving over three feet to the Uruguayan immigration desk (they are both conveniently housed in the same building). Crossing the border was easy as pie, but the thing that took the most time was that all of the guys in suits working at the border wanted to hear all about our trip, and couldn’t believe that we had actually driven all this way (“and without even air conditioning?!”). It was hilarious. They even insisted that we should call Channel 4 news for an interview! The first thing we did once we got over the border – after taking a photo of the welcome to Uruguay sign (and almost getting shot by the guard) of course- was to head for a pizza place in downtown Salto to have faina (a chickpea flour flatbread that you eat with pizza – in Liguria, Italy they call it farinata). All we could do all evening was turn to each other and marvel that we had made it. It was a bit surreal because we had been to this very town four years before with our nephew Mauricio. We laughed as we remembered that trip, and marveled at how this is the first time since Mexico that we were on familiar ground. We were a bit disappointed because we had planned to head straight for a place in the middle of the countryside with these hot thermal baths open all night, where you can soak away and look at the stars, but it had been closed for renovations. We slept at a police station close to the Termas de Dayman, and headed straight for the hot water pools in the morning as soon as we woke up (it had been a cold night, so the hot water was heaven). After soaking for a long time and repeatedly commenting to each other that “I can’t believe we are actually here,” we got back in the westy and started driving south toward Montevideo. We stopped for a bit in Paysandu, bought some pascualina (spinach and egg pie) and olimpico sandwiches (ah – how we missed them!) and a chaja dessert (hard to explain for those unfortunate souls who have never tried it – think crunchy meringue, smooth cream, and pieces of fresh fruit), and spent a long time trying to remember where Yolanda, Quique’s mom, lives. We had been there a couple of times before, but just could not remember how to get there so we gave up after a while. The drive to Montevideo after that seemed eternal – I think they were the longest few hundred kilometers of the whole trip, but by around 8:30 pm we finally saw the lights of Montevideo appear in the distance! Again, we still couldn’t stop saying, “I can’t believe we drove all the way here” to each other. The entrance to Montevideo from this direction was quite different than we remembered it, as the government has constructed a new highway and bridge and it is much quicker now. The first thing we did was (of course) head for our favourite pizza place, El Tasende, on the edge of the old city, right around the corner from where the kids used to go to school (which has been there forever, more or less) to buy some pizza al tacho (a very cheesy pizza) and faina made in a woodburning oven by a very skilled pizza maestro. Feeling excited and strangely anonymous, we parked the westy right in front of Mimi’s apartment building. A friend of Pablo’s spotted us and told us that he was just down the street, and after picking him and Dado up, we snuck up in the elevator to surprise Mimi. I think we almost gave her a heart attack! She was in her room in her nightgown, and Mateo stuck his little head in the door and said “Hola, Mimi.” Phone calls were made and we suddenly had a veritable party going on. Since then, we have mostly just been getting caught up with friends and family. We even got to see James, our English friend who happens to be here for three weeks for a visit! The kids have been playing with Dado the Dalmatian and Tango, the 3-legged Siamese cat, and have also been reacquainted with their Lego, which we shipped here many months ago. Yesterday we went to watch a murga perform, and then went to the house of one of the guy in the group, who is a freind of Pablo's, to celebrate his birthday. Murga is a typical musical style in Uruguay, associated with Carnaval, which is a neat mixture of theatre and music with social and political commentary/critique. The sun has not really come out much since we got here, but it is somehow nice to have a typical Montevideo winter and mostly cozy up in the house. After sorting out a few things here in Montevideo, including Gustavo’s CT scan at the British Hospital (an incredibly elitist and expensive place, but we needed it done fast!), we are looking forward to heading to our final destination, Punta del Diablo! Mateo already has his school tunica and everything!

I still can’t believe we actually made it all the way here...

Bad Roads and Bad News in Bolivia

De La Paz salimos para Oruro, una ciudad en el altiplano donde hacen un carnaval impresionante con mascaras de diablos, pero cuando llegamos nosotros no habia mucho ambiente de fiesta, porque hacia frio y estaba ventoso. Pasamos demasiado tiempo buscando un lugar para dormir, porque con -17 de temperatura no podiamos ni pensar en dormir en la camioneta. Todos los hoteles y hostales o eran muy sucios o muy caros, y se nos hizo muy dificil. Por fin encontramos un hotel viejo y grande, de otra epoca, con fotos de Charlie Chaplin en las paredes, y por suerte nos dieron como mil frasadas de lana para que no nos congelaramos. Se nota que en su momento era el hotel, pero en estos dias esta un poco mas que decaido. De maniana, despues de comer desayuno en un salon gigante y vacio (que nos hizo acordar a esa pelicula con Jack Nicholson, El Resplandor). Nos llevo mas de 20 minutos empezar la camioneta, que se ve que no le gusta para nada la altura. Desde ese dia, tuvimos que empezar la camioneta desconectando la bomba de nafta y usando una tapita poniamos gasolina directo al motor! Por lo menos funciono. Por suerte despues de bajar de la altura empezo a arrancar bien. Ese dia fuimos de Oruro a Potosi, la ciudad mas alta del mundo (4060 metros) y es patrimonio de la humanidad. Fundada en 1545 despues de descubrir muchas cantidades de plata en el Cerro Rica, es un lugar muy interesante y triste al mismo tiempo. Los horrores de las minas siguen hasta hoy en dia, y es imposible olvidar los millions de escalvos africanos e indigenas que murieron para mantener a la economia global por siglos. Estacionamos en un hotel recomendado por los amigos europeos que conocimos en Cusco, y pudimos dormir debajo de un techito (que nos ayudo mucho para protejernos del frio). Salimos a caminar por la ciudad, buscando un lugar para comer (se ve que los domingos cierra todo). Hay muchas agencias aca que ofrecen tours en 4x4 hasta el Salar de Uyuni y tambien para ver las minas en persona! Son cooperativas, donde los mineros trabajan todavia en condiciones horribles y viven pocos anios– algunos son ninios – para poder vender lo que sacan por medio de la cooperativa. Alli abajo, tienen altares para poner ofrendas a “El Tio” (tambien conocido como el Diablo) que es el que manda en el fondo de las minas. Los nenes querian hacer un tour (donde se pueden comprar regalos: cigarros, hojas de coca, y dinamita para ofrecer a los mineros) pero no teniamos tiempo. Al otro dia, cagados de frio, nos tomamos una sopita caliente en el mercado y salimos para el sur hacia el Salar de Uyuni. Nos dijeron que la ruta estaba muy bien (esta en el proceso de quedar pavimentada) pero la verdad es que aunque fue lindo el paisaje (altiplano y desierto) fue bastante dificil y muy estresante- Nos llevo cinco horas y media de caminos bien tortuosos para hacer 200 km. Llegamos a Uyuni antes de que oscureciera, y despues de buscar por un tiempo (parece que el turismo hizo que se inflaran los precios aca tambien – y cobran por persona normalmente, cosa que se nos hace muy caro para los 4) encontramos un lugar donde la duenia nos dio un buen precio para un cuarto con abundante agua caliente, y sabanas polares (y hasta TV con cable!). Esa noche salimos a comer a una pizzeria que es recomendada por todos los que pasan por Uyuni, el Minuteman, y la verdad es que son muy ricas pizzas y un ambiente muy comodo, con estufa a lenia y todo. Los duenios son una pareja joven, el de E.U. y de Bolivia, y a pesar de su exito ellos mismos pasan trabajando en el restaurant todos los dias. Despues de unas duchas calentitas y una buena noche de dormir, manejamos los 25 km que nos quedaban para entrar en el salar. Las fotos tendrian que alcanzar para explicar lo raro y espectacular que es ese lugar! Muy original – parece hielo y nieve, pero es pura sal – el salar mas grande del mundo, cubriendo 12,000 km2, es parte de un lago salado prehistorico que antes cubria casi todo el suroeste de Bolivia. Pasamos todo el dia manejando como locos (fue muy divertido porque es chato, como manejar en asfalto – las mejores calles de Bolivia!) y parando a cada rato para sacar fotos locas. Entramos como 80 km para llegar hasta la isla de los Pescadores, una isla en el medio del lago de sal cubierto de rocas y cactus gigantes (algunos tienen miles de anios). Despues de un partido de futbol con unos koreanos ciclistas, nos dimos la vuelta para volver a Uyuni. La idea era aprovechar la luna llena y quedarnos a dormir arriba de esa superficie de sal blanquita, pero la noche anterior hubieron -20 y no iba ser buena idea. Nos volvimos al mismo lugar para dormir, y al mismo restaurant para comer pizza y tomar limonada caliente. Esta vez nos enteramos que murio la Tia Tita. Ese mismo dia tuvo un ataque cardiaco en el hospital . Estabamos en shock. No podiamos creerlo, y pasamos esa noche y el otro dia con lagrimas. No podemos creer que no la vamos a escuchar mas. Asi que decidimos tratar de llegar a Uruguay lo antes posible, entonces al otro dia salimos para Tupiza en vez de volver a Potosi primero, porque pensamos que iba ser mas rapido. De ultima era un poco mas rapido, pero ese tramo de 200 km no era ni parecido a una ruta – en partes desaparecia la calle totalmente y tuvimos que manjear por un rio seco, con arena. En la mayoria del camino los lugares eran puro “serrucho” y no podiamos ir a mas de 20 o 30 km por hora. Despues de manejar 40 km, el amortiguador del lado izquierdo de adelante exploto! No quisimos volver para atras, asi que decidimos seguir. Paramos en el proximo pueblo, un pueblito de mineros en la mitad del camino a Tupiza, llamado Atocha. Un mecanico lo miro y dijo que no tenia el repuesto, pero manejando despacito podiamos llegar a Tupiza. Unas cuantas horas despues, y en un camino espantoso (que al final era lindo por lo menos, con caniones y cactus gigantes) llegamos a Tupiza: nos llevo 8 horas y media hacer 200 km! Aunque habiamos bajado un poco (a 2900 metros) igual era muy frio dormir en la camioneta, y encontramos un hostal barato para dormir. Gustavo llevo la camioneta para arreglar (tampoco tenian el amortiguador correcto, pero pusieron uno medio improvisado) y salimos a caminar un poco por el pueblo (famoso por los caniones con impresionantes formaciones de rocas, y por ser el lugar donde se muriorion Butch Cassidy y el Sundance Kid). Compramos unos empanadas “saltenias” y seguimos camino hacia Villazon, la frontera con Argentina. Otras 3 horas y media de malas carreteras de tierra (con muchisimos desvios por la arena y por campos enormes llenos de cactus) y por fin llegamos a la frontera con Argentina – la penultima frontera del viaje!

When we left La Paz we ended up driving for about 4 hours to reach the city of Oruro. This place is set in the middle of the altiplano and is well known for its carvaval, where people wear handcrafted “diablada” masks, dance and go crazy in the streets. When we got there it was definitely not the right season for a party atmosphere, but cold and windy. We spent a long time looking for a reasonable place to spend the night, as it was definitely too cold to sleep in the westy (it was supposed to go down to -17 that night). Everywhere seemed to be either too skuzzy or way too overpriced, but we finally settled on a large, old hotel with photos of Charlie Chaplin all over the walls that seemed to be stuck in time. In its glory days (circa 1950s) it must have been quite the place, and nowadays it is a bit run down and drafty, but at least they gave us about a thousand wool blankets so that we didn’t freeze to death. In the morning, after our complimentary continental breakfast in the fancy and empty dining room (which reminded us a bit of the hotel dining room in that Jack Nicholson movie The Shining) we spent about 20 minutes trying to get the westy started (it was either the cold or the altitude again, we were not sure which). In the end, for that day and for pretty much the rest of our time in Bolivia, we had to start the westy by bypassing the gas pump entirely, and adding gas manually with a little bottlecap into an air intake tube, before reconnecting the gas pump once it was going! Whatever works….Anyway, that day we drove from Oruro to Potosi, the highest city in the world (4060 metres!) and a Unesco Heritage Site. This is a very interesting city, founded in 1545 after the discovery of rich veins of silver in the Cerro Rico, with lots of colonial architecture and a real mining culture. The past and present horror associated with mining here is palpable, and it is impossible not to think about the millions of indigenous and African slaves who worked themselves to death to underwrite the Spanish economy (and by extension, the global one) for centuries. We parked the westy at a hotel that was recommended by some of our friends from Cusco, and that let us sleep in their parking lot under a little roof (so it was a bit less cold, at least) and went for a walk around town, looking for a place to eat. It took us quite a while because apparently everything closes on Sundays. There are many tour agencies in town who offer trips by 4X4 to the Uyuni salt flats and also, interestingly, into the (in)famous mines of Potosi! Apparently these are cooperative mines, where the miners work (still in shocking conditions) and sell what they manage to find to a smelter though the cooperative. The miners have frighteningly short lifespans, and some of them are even children. Down below, the miners worship and set up shrines to “El Tio” (aka the devil) to protect them – apparently god doesn’t have much jurisdiction down in the mines of Potosi. The kids were keen on a tour, part of which involves offering gifts of cigarettes, coca leaves, and sticks of dynamite to the miners, but we just didn’t have the time. The next day we had a nice hot soup for breakfast at the market and took off for Uyuni. We were told that the road was in pretty good condition, in the process of being paved (because of the crazy amount of tourists headed to Uyuni) but the 200 km stretch of highway was pretty terrible, and it took us 5 and ½ hours of bumpy, twisty, tortuous driving. The scenery was interesting, altiplano turning into desert, but it was not a very fun ride. We got to Uyuni before dark, and after searching for quite a long while (tourism has inflated the prices here too) found a place run by a lovely woman, who gave us a really good deal on a room with cable TV, hot water and flannel sheets! She was the only one who didn’t try to charge us a fortune by charging per person for a room. That night we went out to the highly (and often) recommended Minuteman restaurant for the best pizzas we have had in a long time, by any standards. Delicious! The place is very cosy too, with a wood stove and a very friendly, casual atmosphere. The owners are a young American/Bolivian couple who, despite the incredible success of the place, work in the restaurant themselves every day. They also have photos all over the walls that people have taken of themselves on the salt flats, taking advantage of the crazy lack of perspective that scenery offers. We got some good ideas for photos to take the next day when we went out onto the salt, and the owner Chris even lent Mateo a toy dinosaur to use as a prop. After a cosy, warm sleep and hot showers, we drove the 25 km out to the salt flats. The photos should be enough to explain how strange and wonderful it is there – it looks like ice and snow, but it is the world’s largest salt flat, blanketing 12,000 sq km! (part of a prehistoric salt lake that dried up but used to cover most of southwest Bolivia). Very neat. We spent the day driving (fast – it was like driving on asphalt! Best road in Bolivia!) and stopping to take funny photos. We made it about 80 km to Isla de los Pescadores, a rock covered “island” in the middle of the salt lake that is full of these huge catci (some of them are thousands of years old). After a rousing game of futbol with some very friendly Korean cyclists, we turned around and headed back to the edge of the salt. Since that night was the full moon, our original idea was to spend a night camping out on the huge, white salty surface, but as soon as we realized that it got down to -20 at night, we changed our minds and went back to the same hotel We also went back to the same restaurant for pizzas and hot lemonade. This is where we got the bad news. That same day Tia Tita had passed away of a heart attack while in the hospital. We were shocked. We spent the rest of that evening and the next day in tears, unable to believe that Tia Tita – an incredible character, an institution really – was gone. It is truly devastating for the entire family. Needless to say, the trip was no longer a priority and we started to make a beeline for Uruguay right away. The next day we braved the road to Tupiza, instead of going back to Potosi, because we thought it would be faster. In the end I think it was a bit quicker this way, but the 200 km stretch was barely even a road – it was pure washboard, which meant that you could not go faster than 20 or 30 km per hour, and in some places the road just seemed to disappear and you had to drive through a dried up, sandy river, almost getting stuck in a few places. About 40 km along, the shock absorber on the front left side exploded with a bang. Not wanting to go back, we decided to keep inching forward. We stopped in the next town (a small mining town called Atocha, about half way to Tupiza) and a mechanic looked at it and told us he had no replacement, but that as long as we drove slowly we would be okay to at least get to Tupiza. After a long, slow, torturous drive (which in the end turned into beautiful canyon and cactus scenery, at least) we finally got to Tupiza: in the end it had taken us 8 hours to drive 200 km! Even though we had gone down quite a bit (to 2,900 metres) it was still too cold to sleep in the car, so after a quick bit to eat we found a cheap hostel and crashed into bed. The next morning Gustavo managed to replace the shock absorber, although it is a temporary measure as it is apparently not the right size. We walked around the town a bit, buying some “saltenias” (empanadas with potato and chicken “soup” in them- it is a mystery how they do this) for breakfast. This place is famous for its beautiful canyons and as the place where the legendary Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid had their final stand off. By noon we were ready to take off again, and we headed straight for Villazon on the border with Argentina. Another 31/2 hours of bad, dirt roads (also in the process of being paved) with many dusty detours through cactus country, we got to the border – our second last border-crossing of the trip!