Crossroads, San Pedro de Atacama

I've hit a fork in the road. A black spot obscuring the clarity of my map. For nearly nine months now I've been ever so gradually heading south, always slightly conscious of where I was going, and what I wanted to do. Now comes a definite turning point in my journey. There's no sure direction where to flow. It's as if I've returned to the 'real' world, or at least vaguely that of the world which all those months ago I left behind. The contrasts couldn't be more astounding & baffling. A mere line in the sand dictates & differents between South America's wealthiest economy & its poorest. Bolivia made me a millionaire; Chile shall bleed me dry. After three fun-filled, aw-inspiring days crossing the Uyuni salt flats & the high volcanic Andean Altiplano, I find myself here; smack in the middle of the scorching hot Atacama desert - flat broke, sleeping in the dirt & painstakingly weighing up my realistic options. North? South? East?...or West?!? Any could suffice. Bus? bike?...or hitchin' on the hike?? Right now I'm yet to know. I guess I didn't actually expect to make it down this far. I wish someone would just make my mind up for me. It's no fun being a serious decision making adult who's out living the hard life. But here I am. Take a punt. Roll the dice.

Laguna Colorado

After my little escapee in Sorata, I made the dash back to La Paz refreshed & revving. The views along that stretch of road are spectacular, with the entire Cordillera Real fanning out in a single unbroken line, acting as a contrasting back-drop to the open alpine plateau. Thankfully Bolivia'snatural beauty took my mind off the disgusting fat fuck gnawing his way through an entire fried chicken beside me. My days in the hills, had me ready for one final wild ride at The Rover...this was going to be it. Most of my old crowd had long ago moved on, but it doesn't take much to make a bunch of one-night-worthy friends. It was on. Things got a little out of control yet again, and apparently I'd tried to jump into bed with some classy English chick who'd pissed herself earlier on. Haha, actually she'd pissed all over some poor Israeli guy's passport, and all morning he was spreading out his stuff, trying in vain to get things dry & minty fresh. She sure made a quick exit the next day I must say. Just like that Pom in Bocas...the bloody English, they're all the same.

Horayyy for jumping on that bus. I was actually out of there this time. You know it's time to leave when the bar staff are putting vodka in your cornflakes. I was saved. After much debate, I'd left on a night bus with two girls I'd met at the hostel, bound for Sucre. To be honest, this was the best bus I think I'd ever had!! That didn't stop the hoards of beggars & buskers hopping aboard at the obligatory out of town stop. It's a sad image seeing so many people struggling through life day to day; but in the end, you can't help them all. Most of every ones spare change went to the first guy (with no arms) who'd sprung up, the next got the crumbs, & the rest that followed got next to nothing. There was grief and desperation in their eyes as they went from seat to seat, hands extended, repeating the same pleading lines over & over again. I think it's healthy to witness, but it's hard to watch.

I got a decent sleep that night I think. I'm never too sure on those overnight buses. You have some crazy dreams. From the station we caught a cab into town & crashed out upstairs in a hostel. The town seemed nice, however very sterile. Maybe this would be a good place to settle down and get some proper Spanish lessons done finally?? We hit up the weekend markets, and annihilated strawberry thick shakes. After that I found there was little else to do. Everyone else went shopping for Halloween outfits for the party later on; I chose to make a retreat. I felt I was partied out. I should be giving myself a break. It didn't feel like the loosest of party towns after all. I grabbed some cheap food & flicked my way through an autobiography about a Welsh marijuana smuggler. Then I headed back to the room and planned where I wanted to head to next. It was turning into a quiet night. Well it was...BOOM!! Lia had lost the keys to her lock & had been zipping around town searching frantically for a pair of bolt cutters. "Nick, you coming out?? Yea you are!!" How could I say no. I had no costume, but I've got enough random crap in my bag to make any ordinary sucker look like a freak. The cheap wine was soon on the guzzle, then the $1 cocktails. I ended up with some Dutch chick in a pirate hat. Apparently I'd tried to to take her back to my room in the hostel. It would have been perfect!! The girls were still out. But as my luck seems to roll, the door was locked & I had no way of getting in!! I remember banging pointlessly for a good five or ten minutes...fuck my life!! The chick left. Sure sucks...she was cool. Meera & Lia found me asleep sitting against the wall when they returned some time later. They must have been a little confused. The key had been in my jacket pocket the entire time!! Arrghhh...what a night. What an idiot.

Halloween in Sucre

I was meant to leave the next morning, but that wasn't going to happen. We spent the day sleeping & eating lots of fine food. Sundays in some smaller cities can seem like you've woken up in a ghost town. There was nothing to do. I couldn't stay here. Spanish lessons would have to wait yet again. I was off to Potosi the following afternoon, a large town cemented into South American history due to it's famous silver mines within Cerro Rico, which supplied much of the mint for the colonial New World Spanish Empire. The town itself is quite impressive; narrow streets wind their way up and down the hillsides, there are plenty of intact colonial buildings & churches, and at night the public spaces seem to come alive with an unexpected youthful energy. I actually wish I had a bit more time to hang out here for a few more days. I'd tried to get my visa extended in Sucre, but the official just kept sending me away time after time & telling me her boss wouldn't be back for another hour...every time. I cracked the shits and took off. I had just enough days left to avoid overstaying much like I did before in Peru. Everything in Bolivian law seemed to come with a price. I wanted to avoid these technicalities if at all possible.

The next day I'd organised a tour into the working Potosi mines. I was expecting a bit of a tourist tout; would miners be lined up for photos with pick-axes like the seven dwarfs, 'slaving' away in predictable unison?? I was shockingly surprised. After kitting out in our mine attire, we jumped into a bus and made for one of the 'miners market' stores. There one could buy a whole array of ridiculous crap. Dynamite was offered out to us in a plastic bag, along with the line detonator & some kind of gun powder looking stuff. Apparently it's all legal to buy this. Anyone can. I wonder now why they were so anal about the dynamite we had back in La Paz. Our group chose to buy coca & water for the miners instead. Apparently they get quite disappointed when all the tourists just want to blow shit up. When we arrived at the mines, a lot of workers were hanging around outside. Most were starting to knock off for the day. If we wanted to run into any we'd have to search them out or ask around. The ceilings of the mines were much lower than I expected; most of the time we had to walk in a kind of squat. All of a sudden our guide shouted out for us to jump off the tracks!! Scooting out from the darkness came this wooden cart filled to the brim with rock; behind pushed these two tiny soot covered men. This was legit business. I was excited.

Mine carts

Soon we found ourselves squeezing through itsy holes, and climbing up and down rickety step ladders. I'm glad I brought my face mask, as the fumes & dust at times were overwhelming. We paid a visit to the miners devil god Tio, who was draped in colourful streamers and had a spent cigarette dangling from his mouth. Our guide lit him up another & we took shots of some kind of 97% alcohol. Tio is more like the devil, as god doesn't watch over the realms of the underground. Miners pray to him for protection against cave-ins, and also to provide them with plentiful minerals. I'd be praying all I could too. Cerro Rico is known as 'the mountain that eats men alive.' During the colonial times of approximately three centuries, it is estimated that more than eight million indigenous & Africanpeople died working in the mines. Most miners these days still only have a life expectancy of around 55 years. The most recent death was only two months ago prior. After a few hours, we eventually ran into a some of the workers. At the bottom of a six meter deep pit, in which we had to abseil down into with no more than a knotted rope, we met Leo. He'd been working in the mines for a good 25 years. He was only in his forties so he claimed, yet appeared much older. I couldn't imagine spending every hour of daylight, practically every day per week, huddled down here, slaving away in this dusty confined, claustrophobic area.

Leo working deep down in the mines

It was a welcoming relief to see the bright sun light at the end of the tunnel on our way out. After leaving the mines, we visited the refinery plant. Huge machines crushed & filtered through all the chunks of raw rock. Apparently all the run off goes directly into a river which feeds the Rio de la Plata, the same one which flows into the Atlantic besides Buenos Aires in Argentina. Later that night in the hostel, a bunch of us decided to watch a documentary called 'The Devil's Miner,' about a 14 year old boy who was working in the mines trying to support his family. It was quite a moving tale, especially since we'd just seen the conditions ourselves first hand. There are supposedly still dozens of young boys working illegally in the mines.

Outside the Cerro Rico Mine

I left Potosi the following day, continuing my rapid spiralling stampede out of Bolivia. The bus was crammed again, and it was bloody hot. The starkness of the terrain began to take over every aspect of the environment. Red towering walls of rock, rose sky high out of the grass-less hills around us. The final stretch descending down into the obscure town of Uyuni proved spectacular. In the distance you could make out the flat saline plains, spreading out into the mirage like distance. GermanGeorg and I took our time exploring the town & finding a cheap place to crash, before searching out a decent tour for the following day. What a strange place. We were in the middle of no where. I kept expecting the tumbleweeds to roll on by & trip me over. That night I treated myself to the slowest Internet I've ever used, and three of the greasiest yet cheapest beef burgers I'm yet to devour.

Uyuni

So thankfully, the oddness of Uyuni pays no resemblance what so ever to the absolute beauty of the surrounding salt flats. I was aw-struck. I have never seen anything so other worldly or mesmerising. With a total of six of us loaded up in our Landcruiser, we took off into the horizon. We visited a train cemetery, resonating the former reason for this small desert towns existence. There were swings, seesaws and all kinds of rusty machinery. I felt like a little kid again, messing around for hours down at Tynwald Park.

Chillen on a train

Then came the real cool shit. We stopped for lunch in the middle of the salt flats. All around us for miles stretched an endless white crust. There was no way you could handle the glare without a pair of shades. Tiny salt mounds piled up in lines formed eerily perfect hexagons. Taking photos was fun...but hard!! I had seen so many hilarious photos from friends that had passed by this way, and I had this perception that it mustn't be to difficult. We'd brought toy dinosaurs, Barbie & a Rubik's cube. Getting Barbie to give me a blow job was near impossible!! We spent an hour or so mucking around after we ate. GermanGeorg thought it'd be a great idea to get a photo jumping off the truck...not so...his heel hit the hard surface in a nasty way and he was practically hobbling for the entire following three days.

Standing on a massive Rubik's cube

The Uyuni salt flats & the surrounding environment turned out to be three days spent witnessing the ultimate whackness of mother nature. The world is a twisted & temperamental place. We bumped into giant cactus, volcanoes, geysers, acidic lakes, flamingos, thermal springs and tangled rock formations. The skies at night were crystal clear. If it hadn't been so damb cold I could have slept under that plethora of stars till day break. The company was also terrific. I think this can make or break a group excursion. Saying goodbye at the border on the third day, is something I'm growing tired of doing. I keep meeting these amazing people, and then they disappear. Most likely I'll never see many of them ever again.

Geysers

But that's the way it goes my friends. Now I'm stuck here in San Pedro de Atacama, trying to get my bank cards to work!! I arrived on the Saturday, smack in the middle of some Chilean long weekend. The camp grounds were packed, and there were people everywhere!! Now it's decision time. I've still gotta figure out what to do and where to go. I think I'll hang out for a few more days & sort out my mind, eat cheap & bask in the harsh desert sun.