La Paz On the 13 of february 2005 I arrived to La Paz, capital of Bolivia, with a direct bus straight from Cuzco (Peru). Bolivia immediately struck me as very different capital from other Latin American developing countries, like for example Peru, Bolivia's cousin country. Despite the fact of palpable poverty, and as opposed to Lima, La Paz has an attractive aura to it that makes up for the the numerous under-10 kids begging on the streets. Bustling town, plagued with traffic and drivers on a frenzier status than Godzilla with pre-menstrual syndrome, I think what made me connect with La Paz is its unstoppable energy and perpetual touch of movement. Indeed, avenues are side-dotted by uncountable stalls selling anything from eateries, burnt DVDs, clothes, kitchen utilities, photocopied books, etc. In a way, it reminded me on Mexico city, to a much smaller scale of course. What can I say guys, I am a flea markets crawler; I just love getting lost in them, bargaining for items that already cost peanuts and that I will probably never use haha! Like I said, there are a number of flea markets like the Witches' Market, where voodoo-alike dolls are offered together with tourist souvenirs and hand-readers pour their mambo-jumbo upon faith-seekers for a cut of their just-forseen fortune, of course. There is also the Black Market, but there's actually little of dubious merchandise whatsoever; it's mostly all legit. And then there's the myriad of guys selling burnt DVDs, software and music. Haha I remember at one point, browsing one of these stalls to buy a CD, a policeman come up to my side and addressed the guy conducting the "business". I was like Shit! we are fucked! , and then the policeman said: "Excuse me sir, do you have a copy of the film Ocean's Twelve?" haha aaahhhh developing countries, you gotta love their looseness. La Paz is nestled right in the middle of a circular valley, landlocked by towering peaks, some of them snow-capped and, at 3800 meters of altitude, you can easily get winded painfully dragging your ass up the steep hills. I reckon I had a hard time catching my breath here in La Paz. It's something I just can't get used to.
Detail of a central square in La Paz . Oh! I cannot forget my two nights of unleashed feline lust here in La Paz! In the hostel I was staying there was a beautiful cat coolly hanging about, I guess he belonged to the management. Anyway, so when I checked in I petted him briefly for a couple of minutes. Well, that night, he came up to my room door and meowed till I opened up the door. He walked right in, climbed on my bed and fell asleep immediately haha. The same phenomenon happened the next night. I guess he somehow felt that I am a cat person (I got two cats myself back home) so we developed a human-cat empathy, if such thing can exist. Picture on the right: My new buddy and I.	See? La Paz is backed by a tall range of mountains 360 degrees around
Alright, let's move onto more serious business: I spent three days in Lima and, following the advice of Nicole, the Australian chick I had met in Costa Rica, I contacted a tour operator renting mountain bikes for the descent of the so-claimed The Most Dangerous Road In The World, which holds the spooky record of over 100 deaths per year. This road links the peak called La Cumbre with the mist-fringed town of Coroico, down at the Yungas province. Why is it called The Most Dangerous Road In The World? well, for further details see the picture on the right. It basically is a gravel road of about four meters width, with an imposingly-deep cliff off one of the sides. And that's not the worst: the road is a busy transit route for loaded trucks transporting stuff up and down the mountain! And that's not even the worst! Occasionally two of these lorries face each other on opposite direction. Could you figure one of these 10-ton-weighting monsters negotiating the inch-narrow road on reversal?!?! No wonder plenty of them have fallen off the cliff. But that's not even the worst; the fucking worst is that retards like me zoom down the road on mountain bike on daily basis with the speedometer teasing the 60 km/h mark at some parts of the track! Truth to be told, if you are careful and ride down at a reasonable pace minding the incoming trucks, it's actually pretty safe. But if you believe of yourself the last incarnation of Dare Devil, the ride becomes shit-scary at some nasty parts and the 100-meter deep cliff turns into a rolling blur barely at arm's reach on your left. I took this tour with a Spanish couple called Pepe and Juana, and with a Danish family. Since the pedaling begins at 4800 meters altitude and I was doing the full circuit climbing up first before winding downhill, I got some coca leaves to chew in order to off-set the tremendous fatigue from the physical exercise at such altitude. Let me tell you, I ended up with my tongue linking the ground with or without coca leaves up the arse. But then I finally got to the downhill part... the fun part... The Danish family were raiding crawling-slow, so Pepe and I said sod this and shot down by ourselves, leaving them behind (they arrived to the bottom of the mountain, 55 km and 3000 m lower altitude later, like two or three hours later). The day was rainy and thus the road pretty muddy, so we ended up covered head-to-toe with mud. But oh boy was it glorious! waterfalls gravitating down the cliff bathing us as we would speed through. Lethally-accidented lorry carcasses to be spotted deep at the bottom of the cliff. Numerous christian crosses pierced on the ground where beloved-ones had driven off the road into eternity. And, among all that, Pepe and I riding down the mountain like Lucifer himself was tail-chasing us! What a fun day, for Pete's sake! Hoho mountain-biker's paradise	Pepe taking a much needed rest. Note the uncountable waterfalls on the background
El Salar de Uyuni World natural wonders... Ayer's Rock... The Everest... Tortuguero National Park... Wadi Rum desert... Yangshuo... Aitutaki Lagoon... Phang-Nga... Mount Bromo... Milford Sound... Roatan's reef... Cappadocia... ... and now, El Salar de Uyuni... probably the most bizarre of them all... Step by step Hector, step by step. In the night bus from La Paz to the southern town of Uyuni I met Anja (from Holland) and Thomas and Suzanne (from Switzerland). Since we were all traveling down there to explore Bolivia's number one attraction, Uyuni's nearby salt flats, we ganged up and after a brief search we booked our seats on a four-day tour that was to drive us all the way down to Chile's frontier across the Bolivian highlands hosting some of the world's most unique landscapes. The day after we met the other guys filling the Toyota Landcruiser we had rented: Garret (from the UK), and Juan Luis and Carlos (from Canada). We formed a cool group indeed and we got along just great, specially with Garret with whom I had tons in common really. In the morning, after a slight delay due to rations and petrol re-stocking, we shot off towards the flat salts we all had been hearing about during our stay in La Paz. This time of the year is the rainy season here in the Andean Highlands, which was a good thing because the water poured on the salty desert was reported to re-create a perfect mirror-reflection effect. But I was not prepared for what I was going to witness...
My friends, allow me to show you the very finest picture of all my travels around the world
Did you play with a kaleidoscope when you were kid? that is exactly El Salar de Uyuni, planet Earth's ultimate expression of horizontal symmetry. I want to stress that none of the pictures shown here have been doctored with Photoshop nor any other software. They have been downloaded straight from my digital camera into the net. El Salar de Uyuni is a 12000-square-kilometer flat, endless abyss of double-sights. The ground is a thick crust of snow-white crystallized salt, but now in the rainy season there is a 5 centimeters layer of water covering the desert. That thin layer of water, combined with the opaque ground, reflects the sky above with idyllic accuracy, and wherever you look 360 degrees around you there's only two colors: white from the clouds and blue from the sky, both over and under the horizon line. In fact, it's sort of difficult to define where exactly the horizon line lies among such symmetry. It's like having been sucked into one of the episodes of Alice in Wonderland, an impossible realm where there's no up or down, just a vast enormity of nothingness reaching into infinity all about you. If there is one word to express what I want to say, that is hallucinogen.
The Toyota Landcruiser against the salt flats. Bloody'A, what a sight!
That small dot is the 4x4 truck cruising in the Salar. The entire sight is backed up by a towering volcano   At dusk...	Thomas, another photo-maniac like myself, shooting pics 24/7   Driving into God knows where. Since there are no landmarks whatsoever here, the driver found his way around by the relative position of the occasional hills here and there
The first stop was the Isla del Pescado (fish island), named-so because its reflection resembles a fish over the salt flats. The most amazing characteristic about this place is the myriad of 10-meter tall cactus, aging up to a millennia, growing abound. From the highest point of the island there is a mind-blowing view over El Salar.
Anja and the cactuses	Rest point in El Salar
View over the Isla del Pescado bay
The day so far had been wonderful, perfect! But then, as we were driving out of the salt desert at night, the nightmare caught us by surprise... rain began to fall like there was no tomorrow, the water rose and the 4x4 truck got stuck right in the middle of fucking nowhere! Well, since it was pretty late and none of our attempts to liberate the car worked out, we pulled out our sleeping bags and spent the night inside the car. Mind, I said spent, not slept, as it was impossible to get any sleep with 9 peeps cramped up against each other! Picture on the right: Stuck at night.
And when we woke up with the first beams of sun light, we fully realized of our situation... We had fucking shipwrecked! well, truckwrecked actually hehe!
The security systems in our car were quite lax. Nonexistent in fact. No radio, no mobile phone, no wooden planks or shovel to dig the car out, nothing. Apparently, during the night we had driven off the transit area, so no other 4x4 passed nearby close enough to see us. So we waited... and waited... and waited... In the afternoon, when it was clear that another night sleeping in the car was due, the canadians Juan Luis and Carlos, along with our local driver Saul, set off on foot to search for help. Far in the distance there was an island, but the precise distance we could not calculate. Distances in the ethereal surface of El Salar are most deceiving. Saul would say that the island was at least 20 km away, while Juan Luis stated that it was 5 km at most. Impossible to say for certain, so off they went in that direction.
Some hours later they arrived back with two wooden planks and a shovel they had picked up somewhere. No matter how hard we tried, there was nothing we could do: the car would stubbornly remain stuck in the muddy salt. Some discussions began to arise among us as we were uncertain of what to do, everybody voicing out possible solutions, none to finally work out. By then, the sun had passed its mid-point and the evening was due to engulf us soon once again. I was not going to spend another night in the car, fuck that, so Garret and I decided to give it another try and set off in search for help. The two of us grabbed up our backpacks and started to walk towards the horizon under a merciless sun. Since the water was knee-deep, we took our boots off and walked bare foot, which was a big fucking mistake as the sharp edges of the crystallized salt underneath was painful as shit. Then, after a while, the water gave way to a 20 centimeter-deep layer of mud and the walk became a struggle while the sun was roasting us like KFC chickens. Picture on the right: looking back from where we came from, the car seems lost in the endless vastness, long kilometers behind. I couldn't exactly state what sort of distance we walked. Like I said, perspectives here in El Salar are very deceiving.
Please observe how deep Garret is in mud. Walking for kilometers over this surface was physically atrocious. Also mind the desolated horizon, nothing to be seen about. I would not want to repeat such a hike ever again, I reckon!
Eventually, tired like I have never been before, we arrived to the shores of an island with a small village on it. A local woman kindly took us to her place, watered and fed us (best vegetable soup I have ever eaten), and... she had a radio station! woohoooooo! At some point during the evening we made contact with someone back at Uyuni, who promised to send a rescue car the next morning. The job was done... Garret and I spent the rest of the evening playing soccer with the local kids, drinking wine and rejoicing at the "adventure" now that it was finished. It truly felt like we had gone way out of the beaten track, arriving to this 50-people town in the middle of the salt desert and enjoying the local hospitality. It had been an insane day, and it was one of the very few times during my journey around the world where circumstances had gone dangerously out of my grip. Had we shipwrecked say 20 kms further away from this island, I don't want to imagine what could have happened, as it was our second day stuck and we only had rations and water for three days. I dunno, like I said I don't want to imagine what could have happened. Later in the evening, one by one the rest of the peeps in the group started to shadow up against the horizon, as they decided that following Garret and I's footsteps into the island was the best solution. We spent the night in that island, waiting for the rescue truck to come in the morning.	Our savior, the local lady who took us in. I didn't get your name, but thank you kindly, ma'am!
We were finally ready to move on at around 10 am the next morning. We had considered canceling the tour as we all were knackered after two days stuck in the salt desert, but in the last moment we kept on as planned, way behind schedule of course. And so we drove deeper into the Bolivian Highlands towards the border with Chile. During the following day we drove passed a number of multi-colored lakes inhabited by hundreds of pink flamingos and fringed by snow-tipped mountains all the way to the Chilean frontier. Very very pretty indeed. Photo galore coming up next!
Would you like to live in that adobe house?	Driving towards the Andes
Sunset at one of the weird-colored lakes. Shame my camera didn't blend the colors smoothly from the different panoramic-bound single pictures
We also passed next to 20 meter-high geysers, probably coming from one of the lava pools underneath. Let's not forget that the Andean range is plastered with volcanoes, alas few of them are active. Moreover, we stopped at some hot-water springs where we had the most delightful bath you could imagine. And at 5000 meters altitude on top of that! The water temperature was 30 Celsius moreless, but once we stepped out the chill did bite us hard! Picture on the right: fancy a bikini-bath at 5000 meters altitude?   We spent the night in a very basic mountain refuge, but I slept like a baby, at least till 5:00 am, waking up time! When we arrived to the Chilean border, we waved good-bye to Juan Luis and Carlos who would continue by other meanings into Chile while we were to drive back to Uyuni. It had been a long and trouble-infested ride, but what can I say guys, I enjoyed it hehe!
"Welcome to Bolivia" sign at the border Llamas pasturing	The group - Upper row from left to right: Saul (driver), Thomas, Carlos, Anja and Juan Luis. Lower row: Saul's wife, Garret, I and Suzanne   Uyuni is somewhere down that road
The laborious drive back to Uyuni was not trouble-free. Once again, at night and when we were only 30 kilometers away from Uyuni, the heavy rain over-flooded the river flow and we got stuck before an unfinished bridge, still under construction. Thomas and I crossed the bridge Spiderman-style and tried to pay one folk standing about at the other end 100 bolivianos (=10 euros) for the short ride to Uyuni, but the stupid doorknob wouldn't process the deal correctly and drove away without us (he was going to fucking Uyuni himself too!). Anyway, so we got to wait once again under heavy rain at the bridge until few other 4x4 trucks clustered with us. The drivers linked the different trucks with metal ropes and one after one attempted the drive through the very wild current. Thanks God our car submarined its way across fine, but the one behind didn't make it and got stuck right in the middle of the river stream! poor fellows, I feel for them. Who knows how long took to rescue them outta there, probably hours! Anyway, eventually we got to Uyuni past midnight totally worn out and exhausted, but happy for having made it safely back after so many issues. I reckon I hadn't slept that well as I did that night in months! The next day we mainly doze about, having no energy left for anything other but to have a pizza and an evening beer and trying to file a futile complain about security procedures at the tour agency. This is Bolivia after all, and customer service is next in importance to developing a space program hehe. So we exchanged emails and one by one we took off to our respective next destinations. Garret himself is planning a one-year-long round the world trip with his girlfriend for the next year. I hope we keep in contact mate and I wish you good luck wherever the road takes you!
Tupiza Night train from Uyuni to Tupiza, a sleepy town in south Bolivia less than 100 km away from the Argentinean border. Tupiza gained world-wide fame because here is where American cowboys and train-assaulters Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid ended their days. You have probably seen the film starring Robert Redford (Kid) and Paul Newman (Butch) or heard the film soundtrack "raindrops are falling on my head...". It's one of the best films ever in my opinion. Anyway, so Butch and Kid robbed a US$95000 payroll from a silver mine nearby and the Bolivian militia chased them to the town of San Vicente, 40 km north of Tupiza. There, they holed up in a small adobe hut and a nasty cross-shooting took place, wounding Kid badly. Outnumbered, surrounded, wounded and short of ammo, Butch and Kid realized that escape was impossible, and shot their own brains away with their last two bullets... and thus becoming myths. In fact, some scenes of the films where taken here in Tupiza's whereabouts because the landscape seems to be pulled right from a spaghetti western. In Tupiza I met this cool chick called Conny (from East Germany) and we rented a couple of horses to ride around the area. Her horse's name was Tobacco and mine's Terrible, but despite the name I reckon mine was better tamed than hers. Anyway, so off we rode into this wonderful region in south Bolivia for hours and I had a terrific day! Like I said, the landscape is reminiscent of USA's Colorado Canyon and it does indeed take your imagination to the Wild West, with plenty of tall, spiky cactuses and sharp rock formations about, passing between deep creeks and apache-infested esplanades (well, at least they were apache-infested in my imagination!). Since I am not an experienced rider, I did suffer after 7 hours on the saddle from an incipient pain in the lower-back, otherwise known as arse. In the evening, Conny and I went out for a dinner and a bottle of wine. Not sure whether it was the wine or some other factor, but I missed my 4am out-bound bus hehe. Ready for some Wild West pictures? Delivered to you by Hector Cassidy himself!
Rocky desert plagued by cactuses and pointy mountains. Is it or is it not like in the films?	Another fine example Damn, this canyon is the perfect spot to get ambushed by the apache! We stopped in this meadow for lunch   Hector the wild west cowboy!
Riding through narrow creeks
My horse, Terrible, was a blondy
Yup, I enjoyed the horse riding day here in Tupiza very much!
And the day after, on the 25th of February 2005, I entered into Argentina on my way to Buenos Aires to meet my very best mate from Spain, Pancho, who will be exploring Argentine with me during the following weeks. By the way, Argentina is going to be the last destination in my trip before flying back home; it's been a long and never-to-be-forgotten year, but funds are running short by now and I do reckon it's about time to drag my ass back into a "normal reality". Not without sadness, I realize that my journey around the world is about to finish...
El Salar de Uyuni during the rainy season with its perfect kaleidoscopical illusions is flat down otherworldly
The so-claimed Most Dangerous Road in the World, in the Yungas, is a hell of a mountain bike descent. As fun as it gets! Riding a horse in Tupiza's Wild West-reminiscent surroundings Getting rescued and taken care of by that local woman in El Salar de Uyuni with Garret and spending the evening playing soccer with the kids after getting stuck in the salt flats for such a long time. It felt like a real adventure La Paz, a vibrant capital that, as opposed to the rest of the main cities in Latin America, I enjoyed for a change It's a rock-bottom cheap country. It truly cannot get any cheaper for the budget-conscious backpackers: single room 3 euros, lunch at a blue-collar worker's canteen 1 euro, etc Busy destination in the backpacker trail, so making friends and going "social" is everyday business
Getting stuck in the Salar and -almost- digging ourselves into some dangerous situations. Nasty place to get lost in Bolivia's transportation network is downright medieval. A 200 km ride could take up to 6 hours or more As opposed to Peru, Bolivia's cuisine is very very limited: meat, rice and potatoes. That's about it! Bolivians themselves. Don't get me right, they are friendly and stuff, but my experiences with them trying to arrange something out of the ordinary were unsuccessful. They don't seem to gasp the idea of improving or exploring new ways to new heights if they are not in their day-to-day routine Not having the chance to visit the Andean snow-dusted peaks in the north of the country. It is the rainy season here and the trekking paths were all knee-deep muddy