Well, that was one of the least painful things I've managed to do in South America. For a continent that loves rubber stamps, carbon copies, red tape and tons of official niceties, the conversation went like this....

Can I fly to Rurrenabaque tomorrow please.
Single or return?
Open return please.
That will be 80 US dollars please
(small pause whilst the ticket is hand written)
There you go, you have to be at the airport one hour before, have a nice flight
Thank you

Actually, I am now ill-at-ease because it was too easy. But we will see tomorrow. The important thing is that I will be out of La Paz (hopefully) by lunch time tomorrow.
Sorted!

I'm in La Paz and I'm looking at leaving as soon as possible. There are many stories of big strikes and protests on Labour Day (May 3rd). Last year in La Paz, these turned in to riots and many people were killed. I don't intend getting caught up in that kind of nonsense, so I will be busy booking trips today and hopefully will be in the deepest darkest Amazon whilst all the silly season stuff goes on.

A Bolivian TV advert for a Alzheimer's clinic uses "Yes Sir, I can bogey" as it's background music.

Last few days weather has been outstanding, beautiful blue skies and temps in the mid 20's. I'm heading to La Paz on Wednesday, hopefully to arrange my Amazon Jungle trip.

Happy birthday to my old school mate Jason Brooke.
We were at Bridge Farm together way back at the beging of the 80's

Last night, I joined Julian and Ness (two Kiwi's) for dinner. As we walked through the main square to the restaurant, we came across a big demonstration.
It was quite raucous and a little unnerving, but the main demo was on the opposite side of the square, so we continued to the restaurant.
About half an hour in to our meal my eyes started watering and stinging and my throat was burning. A acidic smell was in the air and it was a little difficult to catch a breath.
We went from the first floor courtyard to the main room, but the tear-gas the police had used to disperse the crowds on the other side of the now firmly bolted doors seeped in everywhere.
For a about 20 minutes it was very uncomfortable. What it must be like when it goes off right next you doesn't bare thinking about. It wasn't very nice at all, but as the doors were locked we ordered another bottle of vino blanco, and waited our time before escaping to the safety of the local Karioke bar.

Very Happy St Georges Day

I hope everyone has a very English cup of tea, glass of Pimm's or a beer or two to celebrate England's Day

With patriotic greetings (from Bolivia)
Adam

A very belated congratulations to Lindsay Molitor who is this weeks FAOTW.
An incident a few weeks ago has earned Lindsay this very special award, (and on England's very special day, what ever next, bloody Americans)

The incident: Whilst in a dorm in Mendoza I heard Lindsay shout out a girls name, I assumed it was a name of a horse (reasons will come apparent in a moment) but she assures me it is her best friend! Anyway... Shortly after Lindsay sits bolt-upright in bed and then dismounts her top bunk in one sweeping jump. (Like jumping off a horse!).
With a massive crash Lindsay lands on her feet straightens-up and looks around startled. She takes a step towards the toilet door, changes her mind, shakes her head, spins on the spot and climbs back into bed.
I didn't hear a peek out of her for the rest of the night. Lindsay gets the award for the following:
1) A great dismount
2) Not damaging the floor
3) Not damaging herself
4) Being a great person to share a room with, travel with and share bedtime questions.
5) Being American and almost likeable :o)

God Bless America

Well, no less than an hour after the first one, another demonstartion is taking place outside the window. They all look very young this time, so I'm assuming it's some sort of student demo. aprt from the odd chat it's a lot quieter and less scarey than the first one!

As is very usual in Bolivia, there is a demonstration in the streets. There is a lot of unhappiness over the selling of gas, but it could easily be one of the many powerful unions.
The traffic has started moving again, but what sounded like fireworks or gunshots just rang out from somewhere on the street.
Don't worry, I'm staying put for wee while yet!

A lot of discussion was needed before we decided to accept the drivers offer of getting us up at 4am to make sure we were at the island in the middle of the salt pan for sunrise.
Although it was hard to get up, the three hour night drive over the salt was very smooth.
When we got to our destination the fingers of dawn were touching the furthest clouds on the horizon and lit the ghostly salt with a subtle grey-blue light.
The almost honeycombed structure of the salt slowly developed before our eyes as the sun climbed from the depths of the night. As it breached the distant mountains, long shadows stretched from our feet and touched the edges of the island that was more than forty metres away. The blue light gave way to fresh morning oranges then as the hours past, a blindingly white light reflected of the salt and squinting became the order of the day. The Island of Isla Pescado (called an island because every now and then the Salar fills with crystal clear water with an average depth of about 30cm and produces mirror perfect reflections of the blue skies and backdrop volcanic peeks) is covered in ancient cactus (some over a thousand years old) and has a ten minute walk to the highest point on the island.
From here the 360 views of the Salar are unrestricted images of pure beauty. The white salt stretches to the powdery mountains in the distance, and in several places the salt kisses the sky where they meet uninterrupted at the horizon.
I found myself awe-struck in the middle of the worlds largest salt pan. I think I managed to photograph almost every inch of the 12,000km² of rock solid dead flat salar.
Very reluctantly we set off after breakfast across the salt towards the city of Uyuni and the end of our three day trip. We stopped once in the middle of the salt for a few more pictures and then a brief visit to the original salt hotel and a guided tour of a salt processing house rounded off the day nicely.
The salar will be one of the highlights of Latin America and until I get to see the Nazca lines or Machu Picchu I don't think I will beat it.

The original Salt hotel is in the actual Salar, which you can still visit, but it no longer accepts overnight guests. Instead we slept at a second salt hotel at the edge of the Salar. As it's name suggests it's made of salt. COMPLETELY made of salt!
Huge blocks of salt cut from the Salar make the walls and the floor is covered in well ground salt (which was a little inconvenient in the rooms because you could not remove your shoes until you were in bed) The beds, tables and chairs were all made out of salt blocks with only the shower block being made from another material (You wouldn't want to dissolve the walls whilst showering, not a pretty site for the guests in the next room!).
It was surprisingly warm and comfortable. Quite luxurious after last nights hostel and the US$1 shower was very welcomed indeed. A small 'museum' in the rocks about 20 minutes walk behind the hotel proved to be more interesting than I thought it would be. Dried mummies and artifacts remained in their original caves (though moved slightly for better viewing!). A local guide talked us through the various bits of textile and ceramics which lay about on makeshift shelves. The curator at the British Museum would have had a heart attack if he could see the guide pick up and poke with a stick the ancient artifacts during his talk. But it made a big difference being in situ, rather than behind a glass case in the middle of London.
On the way back to the hotel the setting sun set fire to the high clouds that sat above the mountainous horizon and we were treated to the youthful musical talents of 'whispers of the Salt Pans' before going to bed at a very late 8:30pm

Our 4WD speed along corrugated dirt tracks weaving in and out of the sculpted rocks and along great expanses of coloured sand. The mountains and volcano's that never left the horizon were painted in subtle hues of purple and pink. We passed four lagoons, vivid colours washed in the shallow water dotted with flamingos and other birds hardy enough to survive the harsh weather and the lethal cocktail of chemicals in the water.
We stopped for lunch near rocks that looked they were from the set of startrek. The few tiny shrubs and strange rockhard moss-like plants that grew like a sponge harbored hundreds of bits of rubbish, the odyssey of many years of irresponsible tourism in a very under-regulated and underfunded part of the natural world.
A few photos in one of the remote villages broke up what would have been a very long afternoon of solid driving. About an hour before the sun set we arrived on the edge of the Salar Del Uyuni. Even without entering the Salar it impressed upon us how beautiful and magical this area was.

Less than half hour from the accommodation was our first stop of the day. A very strange shaped stone sticking out the sand. With imagination (when squinting, drunk and suffering from Hallucinogenic Altitude Sickness) you could just make out an abstract tree.
Like all these kinds of trips, unless you are very lucky, you share the well worn trail with many other gringo's. Unfortunately we seemed to be following the whankers express, a very loud and obnoxious bus load of tourists that seemed to think that climbing all over the stone tree and just sitting there would improve the ascetics for all the other visitors. It did not, so I waited about 20 minutes for the last one to climb down before firing off about three thousand photos.

Our last stop of day one and the location of our first night was on the shores of Laguna Colorada. This lagoon has deep contrasting streaks of red, white and blue colours through its waters. Flamingo's feed in the shallow waters and with a average depth of 30cm that more or less the whole lagoon. Llamas were wandering the waters edge, feeding on the tough grass that borders the lagoon.
Spending the night at almost 5000m was going to be interesting, and it didn't disappoint!
In winter the temperatures can get down to minus twenty-five, but luckily this was summer, so we had a almost balmy minus five. The room got down to nine degrees centigrade and I used spare blankets from other beds and even hired more to stay warm.
In the end I had so many that I could hardly move, it felt like an elephant was sat on top me! Every time I turned the solid mass of wool would slide off the bed. The air being so dry emptied my mouth of every single droplet of moisture and gulping and slapping my mouth like a guppy to rehydrate in the morning must have woke the others up in the room.
It was one of the worst nights sleep I have had in a long time, and when I awoke, the Altitude Sickness had really started to working on my head, giving me a double pounder with each step I walked and slapped on some extra dizziness as a bonus.

After lunch we made our way up ever higher to Sol De Manana. This thermal area had fewer geysers than those at Los Geysers del Tatio, but the creators, bubbling mud and many chemical colours that painted the sides of the volcanic dips and bumps made the stop very interesting and photogenic.

The thin air really had started to effect me. My head was absolutely pounding and I started to do stupid things, like put my camera bag down (that also contained my passport, air tickets, all my travellers cheques) and walk off. I must have left it for about ten minutes and only realised when I wanted to change a lens.
I ran full speed around the edges of the creators and there was my bag, exactly where I left it and with its full contents (I am SOOOO lucky).
The run though nearly liked me. My chest was tight, I was gasping for air like a fish out of water and pain danced through my leg and arm muscles. I had run for less than a minute, but as the body struggles to get enough air at these heights at rest, you can imagine what its like after doing the smallest bit of exercise.

We were at the Bolivian border at about 9am. It's VERY high, well above 5000m, so it was cold and the air was thin. With a new stamp in the passport, the 22nd country visited, we swapped our minibus transfer for the 4WD that would take us across the desert.

The first two lagoons we came across were Laguna Blanco and Laguna Verde (The white and green lagoons). Both were boxed in by high Lincancabur Volcano peek. The shores of Laguna Verde had what looked like sand beaches, but turned out to be crusts of salt and borax. It also had a small borax covered island and the green tinge to it's waters is because of the mineral contents, including arsenic and sulphur.
I decided against a swim.

About and hours drive brought us to a large lagoon with beautiful mirror reflections of the distant volcano's. At the edge of the lake hot springs bubbled up into a man-made pool and here we could go for a dip and warm up against the bitter high altitude cold winds that blew in from the lake.

We learnt about the crying cook here as we were served sandwiches rather than the burgers that were promised, but it wasn't too much of a problem. We just felt sorry for the crying cook.

I am one of six travellers on the trip, the others include...
An Irish couple Regan and Dave.
An English lad called Andy who has just finished Raligh International.
A columbian man and a Chillien woman who's names escape me (sorry!)
Our driver Leo and a a cook that didn't turn up because she got drunk and slept in!
Aparently she cried when she realised that she had been left behind and from then on she was known as the 'crying cook'. The Crying Cook caught up with us at the end of the first night.

For US$65 dollars I have booked a three day 4WD trip across the Atacama to Uyuni in Bolivia. All food is included as well as the accommodation. An 8am start in San Pedro De Atacama took us to the Bolivian Border nearly 5000 metres above sea level. Head still pounding from yesterday the extra height does not help.
With my 22nd country stamp in the passport we change from the minibus transfer and get in the 4WD with our driver Leo (pronounced Lao).
It is very cold, very dry and with no clouds in the sky, very bright. The dusty plains yield to orange-pink mountains that top 6000 metres. The 'road' is a dusty set of tyre prints and we kick-up a dirt trial that quickly disperses in the winds that lap the desert sands.

I wanted to split the two trips up, but as I am leaving tomorrow for Bolivia I have to squeeze both trips in today. After this mornings 3:30am start I was soooooooo not in the mood to climb back on a crowded dusty bus and head back into the desert on corrugated dirt roads. The altitude headache pounded with each bump and an agonising 25 minutes felt like hours.
We were dropped at our first site. A huge gorge lay out before us. The rocks contain a high amount of salt, so when it rains they are dissolved and eroded in to the most fantastic shapes (The salt water runs off into the pans, evaporates and leaves behind the salt that the pans are famous for).
Along the left edge of the gorge a crescent shaped path swept down so the bottom, flanked by a huge silver coloured sand dune. Near the bottom we climbed the dune to spectacular views across the valley on the other side.
Our driver that had left us at the top, met us at the bottom and drove us on to the second stop. Near the top of the ridge we has unbroken views of the Atacama Salt Pan and the distant purple Andean mountains that formed the border to Bolivia.
We then moved on to the strange sculptured rock formations that littler the Valle De La Luna. After a short photo stop we then went to the bottom of a huge dune in the middle of the valley. It was just before sunset and the shadows were already long and dramatic.
A scramble to the top of the dune meant battling with the thin dry high air. Panting and wheezing for England we go to the top just in time to see the sun dip behind a distant mountain.
There was no cloud, so the actual sunset wasn't that special, but looking in the opposite direction reviled a landscaped that changed colours vividly. The oranges of the soil turned deep pink and purples whilst the sky mirrored the pallet of soft pastels.
After the sun set, the temperatures dropped dramatically and was time to head back to San Pedro for a hot chocolate and a very welcome bed.

Yesterday was a lazy day, good job really, as this morning I was up at 3:30am to be picked up for a 4am start.
One wee problem. The gates to our hostel were locked, so when the bus arrived I had to scale the wall and drop six feet to the road. Luckily our hostel was one of the few buildings that didn't have broken glass on top the walls.
The two hour drive to the Geysers was well lit by the moon and strange rock formations loomed out of the darkness. We arrived just as the first light touched the horizon.
Ghostly shafts of steam bellow out of the ground and hissing geysers gush boiling hot water in to the freezing morning air.
The temperature is somewhere below freezing and at 4500m above sea level (the same as half way up Mt Everest), the air is thin and I started to have a slight altitude headache about 30 minutes after arriving.
The sun had rose well before it entered the volcano caldera that we were in, but when the shafts of sunlight came flooding in, it back lit the steam in a most dramatic way. The temperature luckily rose as the morning wore on, and by the time we had to leave I had taken off two of the five layers!
On the way back on guy was very sick from the altitude. It can effect different people differnt ways. It can even effect people who have not suffered before who have been to higher places. Luckily my worse effects was the constant background headache that has been with me all day.

I got a 11:45pm bus last night and arrived in San Pedro at 8am this morning. It's a dusty little down on the edge of the San Pedro Salt Basin. Almost all of the houses and garden walls are made from mud brick and all the roads are dusty and unsealed. In the central plaza there is a beautiful white-washed church and next to it a mobile bank lorry with a huge satellite dish on the top so the only ATM machine will work.
There are loads of trips to do around the town. Tonight I went to gaze at the stars, saw Saturn and Jupiter, and had a three hour guided tour of the stars. It was great (but I'm sure not everyone's cup of tea).

It has never rained in Caldera.
Just on the edge of the Atacma desert, Caldera is a quiet sea-side town. I arrived on a very luxurious overnight bus. It had just three seats per row and they looked like they were from the First Class section on a jumbo plane.
Caldera has a very small harbour, jam-packed with small brightly coloured wooden fishing boats.
These pull up to the side of the harbour and the locals almost riot over the catch. Once paid for they take their fish to one of about six mongers, who fillet them on the side of the warf. From fishing boat to fillet takes less than five minutes.
The bits of fish left over are thrown into the harbour where three very well fed elephant seals vacuum them up as they roll and glide amoungst the boats.
The prized scraps that arn't eaten by the seals are gulped up by huge Pelicans if they are quick enough to beat the gulls.
The colour and the wildlife of the harbour are well worth coming to Caldera for, but I would have come here for one thing only if it had been for nothing else, and that would be for the seafood. Last night I had the best dinner I have had in the whole of South America so far.
Light tempura battered monk fish was served covered in scollops, calamari rings, prawns and small curled purple octopus legs. The sauce tasted a little like a seafood chowder, creamy and fishy with hint of ginger and the slightest taste of chilli. It was a very generous portion and bloody lovely. It was washed down with plenty of Pisco, the National drink made from distiled grape alcohol
I am heading back there now to try another dish!

Santiago is a nice city. Big, noise and bustling, but at this time of year, the mornings are very clear, cool and crisp. That does change after lunch however when the sun has had a chance to heat up the streets and Santiago turns into any big latino city.

Back in Chile now. I took an early morning bus and got into the capital just after lunch. The journey crosses the Andes and just after the Chile border post the most amazing road snakes beeneth you. With more than 20 very sharp hairpin bends in a row, the road almost topples over the side of a very steep cliff. The bus just abouts turns each corner and views strieght down can been seen for those with a strong enough heart to look out of the window. The rest of the journey was again, beautiful, with red dusty mountains giving way to burnt and dry fields and valleys.

Today is a very strange day for an Englishman to be in Argentina. On the Monday nearest the 2nd April Argentina 'celebrates' the invasion of the Falkland Islands. Last night Pablo warned me to tell strangers that I was Australian rather than British, because there was a good chance that a passionate debate would be sparked by my nationality. It didn't happen though.
It does seem a bit funny to celebrate a war that you lost, but I think it is celebrating the fact that Argentina "struck a mighty blow against the British, to claim back their islands". All maps of Argentina clearly show the Malvinas (Falkland Islands) and the *British Antarctic Territory as part of Argentina.
* which they also contest against the British, but as part of the Antarctic Treaty the land disputes are laid aside.

On Saturday night I met and had drinks with a bunch of local people from Mendoza. We got on very well and they invited me to an 'Asado', a South American BBQ, on their parents farm.
So I took them up on the offer and yesterday they came and picked me up. What I didn't realise, is that I would be travelling for one and a half hours in the back of a van, used to transport the eggs produced on the farm. It smelt like one of Reakes lorries! It was hot and by the end I felt quite queesy. But the farm, nestled in the foothills of the Andes was STUNNING. The four year old girl of the family that runs the farm became my best friend and wouldn't leave my side for the whole afternoon. It was quite funny as I couldn't speak spanish and had to mime things to her, and instead of understanding, she just found it very funny. I did have her saying "Okay" by the end of the day.
The BBQ was lovely and in the evening we went and picked apples in the orchard. We even had a game of hide'n'seek by the light of the full moon amoungst the apple trees. The moon was so bright that you could easily read by it, and even the shaddows were well lit. Because of the bright moon, the stars were not so impressive, but there was still more than a generious portion of twinklers in the sky.
Being Argentinians, about 1am, when I was ready to go home, they decided to play cards. I played and lost some very bad hands of (almost) rummy and finally fell in to bed at about 5am.
Big thanks to Pablo, Fernando, Monica and the Angel for a great day out.

It's my aunties birthday today, many happy returns.

I did manage to drag myself in to the school for the afternoon excersion to two local winery's.
The first was a very commercial massive winery, mostly automated with very few workers. The only difference between this winery and the one in New Zealand that we visted was the fact that we are now slap-bang in the middle of the harvest season and we could see the machines working.
The second winery was a small family run business, whose total yearly output is matched in less than a day at the first winery. It was a farm-shed operation and had such a beautiful olde-worlde charm about it.
Each and every cork and lable is placed BY HAND and individually numbered. We, of course, sampled the products of both winery's and I must say, I enjoyed both.

Last night I got NO sleep.

In the next dorm, a blond long-haired, forty-something professional singer called George decided to practice playing the TRUMPET at 1am. The hour he played for was torture. It was all made worse because I had decided to go to bed early and had been unable to sleep since 10pm.
After he finished playing at 2am(ish) I was so wound-up that I didn't finally manage to drop off until way past 4am.

So I decided I wouldn't go to Spanish school today because I was desperate for some sleep. However, at 9am I heard the toot-toot from Trumpet Boy who kindly woke me with the same tune he had so thoughtfully left me with late last night.

Now I hate trumpets, old fellas with long blond hair, trumpets, professional singers and bloody trumpets!