As time wound down, I got to meet my group--two Argentineans of my age and three members of a nine person Bolivian family from Sucre, the Bolivian capitol of tension. They all seemed nie enough, but I'll openly admit that after having spent so much time with English speakers over X-mas, I was feeling pretty intimidated by the demand for me to speak Spanish.
After overcoming little fears like this, you start to get a buzz, thrill, etc. from everything. After you realize that what you think you won't be able to do, you're doing or have done, you start to get a kick out of absolutely EVERYTHING. Even music from the 80s (which is actually my vice anyway...).
Anyway, maybe its needless to say, but I made friends with the Argentinians--Agostin and Maria--in no time, and now have some friends in Buenos Aires, which has heightened my excitement for my extended period of time in BA. In short, they got me really excited to drink Mate, watch the Tango, eat steak, drink wine, and really do nothing more... Though I may take more Spanish classes. In fact, they actually ended up knowing a lot of English, which helped me learn quite a bit more, and upped my feigning dedication to learn the language... But I digress (Remind me to tell you stories later...)
So, the tour actually did start once our guide--if you could ever actually call him that--tossed our belongings on the top of the 4x4, strapped em down, and took us to the Train Graveyard.
The Train Graveyard, no longer operable after a change in fuel systems...
We swung back through town, picked up our cook, and headed out towards the Salar de Uyuni--the worlds largest salt flat.
You drive and drive, feeling like you get nowhere because all you see is white, accompanied by the occasional volcano in the distance. Eventually the tour runs you smack dab into one of many islands that dot the Salar. Isla del Pescado was the site of a much needed lunch, and hundreds of giant cactus. We eventually got back on, well there is no road, but we started driving again. Aside from the sheer beauty of the flats, the highlight of the day whas when our driver started playing the Clash and my exciteable buddies started singing along with their Spanish accents. As the days continued, the music dove deeper into the 80s, and drove us closer to insanity. Yet another story that can be told at a later date.
We got to San Juan, ate, explored the city, chased some "Shamas," and passed out in order to wake up early for Laguna Colorada the next day.
The entirety of San Juan, and my shadow.
The second day wasn't much to rave about, with the exception of Laguna Colorada, the other 1500 colored lagoons and a whole lot of flamingos. Oh, and who could ever forget that absolutely coldest night of my 23 years of life. Thank God for that ratty, torn, used sleeping back--it saved me some toes, even if I was kicking myself for not just buying my own sweet Chilean made Doite brand sleeping back that keeps you warm up to negative five degrees Centigrade.
On the third day, you wake up at 4AM to travel to the guysers before the go off. Of course, our guide didn't tell us that, and we woke up at 6AM instead. It was alright, because the fields were still one of the most amazing things I have ever seen, especially once the sun started to come up. The guysers are spouting, and meanwhile the sun is slowing waking, causing eerie shadows to sprawl all over the landscape. And your toes are still freezing from the night, despite the wool socks your Mom bought you. It was cool though, as our next stop was the hot thermal pool, Termas de Polque.
Without prior though, I stripped down to my underwear and jumped into the warm pool, not realizing that my stocking cap was still on. It probably would have made a great photo, but you'll just have to picture it for yourself. I got out, dried off, ate breakfast, and with full bellies, the Argentinians, Bolivians and I drove to our final destination--yet another Lago Verde, or Green Lake. It was here (see below) where the Bolivian children heckled me until I threw a rock into the lake from the vista... Thanks to thin air, I was able to make their dreams come true.
The volcano in the background, as I have been told, is shared by Bolivia, Argentina, and Chile...
We then proceeded to drive and drive for about another eight hours until we finally arrived back at Uyuni. The tour was done, and my life was changed a little bit more--well, sort of. By the time we got back, I was more focused on sleep, and returning to my beloved La Paz.
Do you think that anybody in the US has ever thought about naming a city "the Peace." Think about it...
I said goodbye to my Argentinian friends, the Bolivian family, and some Aussies I had met before and got on that bus to Paradise. On the ride home, I thought about where I have been, where I will go, and all of the things I will never tell anybody about my trip... Only because there will never been enough time.
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