Salar de Uyuni

When you think of South America, there are a number of iconic images that usually come to mind: beaches in Brazil, Argentine tango, Machu Picchu, the Galapagos, and for some, the open salt flats in southern Bolivia. The Uyuni Salt Flat is the largest salt flat in the world, spanning over 10,000 square kilometers. To see this amazing landscape, we booked a three day tour in a 4WD which would drive us through the salt flats and across the surrounding mountains, eventually dropping us off in Chile. We started the tour as soon as we arrived from our La Paz overnight bus. We were lucky enough to be paired with a fun group since the 4WD can only hold six passengers. The first stop was the old train cemetery where abandoned trains from Bolivia's slightly brighter past are left to spend the last of their days.

Top of the world

In need of an experienced mechanic 

We headed off to the salt flats after taking a few pics at the cemetery. As the wheels of the 4WD touched the flats, we were in awe at how far the area spanned. It was nearly impossible to see the borders since there was absolutely nothing on the flats to give any perspective. We drove for close to an hour and stopped for a lunch and picture break. The crusty salt crunched beneath our feet as we dismissed any doubts of the world ever running out of its supply of salt. 

Entrance to the flats

She found half of her heritage

The first group picture

Saving Shanta from this immediate danger

Lunch break in the middle of nowhere

Balancing act

Round 2

We made our way through the flats to Isla Incahuasi. Located in the middle of the flats, this rocky island is the only mound that gives a complete view of the entire area. Its dotted with cacti and swept with strong winds all day long.

Marking the path with a cactus sign

View from the top

The only thing without a sharp edge on the island

We left the flats behind and travelled to the hostel, made up entirely of salt. The ground was a loose pile of salt and the walls had large chunks threatening to break off at any moment. The next morning, we set off early to make our way to Volcan Ollague. We stopped for some pictures as we made our way through miles of lakes, mountains, and rock formations.

Volcan Ollague

Volcano in the distance

Flamingos in Laguna Cañapa

Lunch break

Laguna Hedionda

Desierto de Siloli

Arbol de Piedra

Laguna Colorada

We made it to our second hostel which was nothing more than two massive rooms, one with beds and the other with tables and chairs. We had a great dinner with pasta and some wine. The night was freezing cold, and the morning was no different. We drove to the Geiser Sol de Mañana, an area known for its intense volcanic activity. The pressurized steam was a warm comfort in the freezing morning cold.

Our driver leading the group

Boiling mud

Braving the cold

Accompanied by the smell of sulfur

Hot springs

The background inspiration for Salvador Dali's The Persistence of Memory

Leaving Bolivia at the immigration 'office'

Waiting for our bus with all our belongings

Left or right?

The Highest Capital in the World, La Paz

We took an evening bus from Puno, Peru to La Paz after spending almost a week on the shores of Lake Titicaca sitting and waiting for funds to arrive in our joint account. The week was probably our lowest point in the trip ironically spent on the shores of the highest navigable lake in the world. Alas, the funds came and we got the first bus out of town and straight to the border. Bolivia is the first country Americans have to pay to enter if they're traveling from north to south, and it's not a light fee either. It's $135 in crisp bills just to step foot on their soil. The obvious idea is that tourists will have to pull out $140 in twenties from an ATM and it is up to the border agent whether or not they have change for you. If the agent is having a bad day, then one of the twenties will be "uncrisp" and rejected. Luckily, he was in a good mood when we crossed and took the money, gave us our change, and let us on our way. Note that the processing of two Americans took longer than any of the 40 other travelers on our bus. So it was back on the bus and into country number four for us in South America. We had heard the stories of Bolivia before coming in: third world, worst buses in the continent, distain for Americans, etc. Like most rumors, we quickly found the opposite to be true. La Paz was gorgeous, the people were inviting, the buses were adequate, and the place was cheap. We arrived in La Paz, found our hostel, and immediately searched out some street food. We found a woman cooking burgers for $0.40 each so I bought three and we scarfed down the best street food we had eaten on the trip.

Great weather for 12,000 feet

The Prado

Iglesia San Francisco

Steep streets 

Dried llamas are buried under houses for good luck 

Treating ourselves to a decent night out 

Llama meat with cheese, prosciutto, and spicy jam

The altitude made us feel lightheaded and out of breath, but we still managed to pack in a lot each day. The day before we left La Paz, we woke up early to take a tour of the city and then took the new tram to the top of the city for the biggest flea market in South America. We had to rush back down in time for Cholitas wrestling, an all-women fight where full beers are used as weapons and the youngest fighters are well under 16 years old.

Daily market

Walking through the streets

View of the main plaza

Plaza Murillo where presidential palace is located

Our juice lady who claims one price and charges another

Old train station

Brand-new tram to the top of the city

View on the way up

The beginning of the large flea market

This car fell 100 feet from the road

As we embarked towards the wrestling match, we were told that although some of the fighters were 15 years old, they had done well enough in school to allow them the privilege to fight. Fair enough. We got to the match, bought a few beers, and settled down. We noticed a young girl from our bus getting ready for the fight and Shanta managed to give her a high five before she perished. These women were punching, kicking, throwing our beer cans at each other, and yelling nasty slurs trying to throw the other off their game. In the end, there were no deaths and we ended up getting some small souvenirs just for attending. If you find yourself in La Paz on a Sunday, this is where to be.

Cholitas in action

No mercy

Shanta giving a cholita some good luck

She stole a beer from the crowd and went crazy 

Me and a cholita back on the bus

We spent the next day walking through San Francisco church which began construction in the 1500s. It was built to try to unite the unruly indigenous under Catholicism. However, the Spanish struggled with this attempt for hundreds of years.

Courtyard in San Francisco Church

The wine cellar in the church

View from the top

Leaving La Paz with a night bus to southern Bolivia