Salar de Spectacular

We loved the Salar de Uyuni in southern Bolivia. It was the perfect adieu to a wonderful country and wonderful 2 months spent exploring its diverse boundaries. In a matter of three days we saw vast salt plains, colorful lagoons in majestic landscapes, desert rock formations, an island of giant cactuses, crater moon geysers, and an endless display of nature. Few words can describe our excitement.

Check out all of our Uyuni pics at http://juicycat.smugmug.com/gallery/3910432#226912002

This post is super old. We visited the Salar at the end of November right before crossing the border into Chile.

Menacing Men of Mancora

Day 1, 11/26
San Pedro, Chile to Arica, Chile
12 hour night bus

Day 2, 11/27
Arrive Arica, Chile
2 hour cab ride across the border to Tacna, Peru
5 hour layover in Tacna
Tacna to Lima
20 hour night bus

Day 3, 11/28
Lima

Day 4, 11/29
Lima to Chiclayo
12 hour night bus

Day 5, 11/30
Chiclayo

Day 6, 12/1
Chiclayo to Piura
3 hour evening bus to Piura

Day 7, 12/2
Piura

Day 8, 12/3
Piura to Mancora
2 hour taxi ride to Mancora

After our taxing week getting from Bolivia to Chile to northern Peru, we decided to stop our backpacking ways, book a week at the beach, and relax. Mancora is Peru´s ONLY decent beach with sun and sand. It´s just a step up from the Jersey Shore but it was a welcome change from wool hats and gloves and 20 hour night buses.

Although the heat was exactly what we wanted, Mancora quickly showed its true colors. Mostly Mancora´s men showed their predatory teeth. We´ve dealt with extremely inappropriate behavior and verbal propositions. The men here have a complete sense of entitlement and show no restraint.

Even worse, last night while talking to a French couple staying at our hostel we found out that they were mugged at gunpoint at 1:30pm while walking on the beach. Strangely enough, I went walking by myself yesterday morning to explore the south end of the beach. I walked south for about an hour, jumped in the ocean for a dip, sat at an isolated spot in the sand, and then walked back. When I was just 10 minutes from our hostel I ran into the French couple, waved hello to them, and then continued to walk to the hostel. Well, just seconds after I passed them three guys who I had noticed sitting nearby walked up to them, showed them a gun, and robbed them of a camera, jewelry, and cash. At 1:30 in the afternoon at a spot very close to the main drag! The Frenchies were quite calm about the whole situation but it freaked us out. Rather than stay until Monday as planned we will leave this weekend. Luckily I was alone because I´m sure if Catherine and I were together we would have been mugged instead. With my dark tan I think I was able to blend in and look Peruvian.

After Mancora, we get to enjoy another week of bus hell. We have to cross from Peru to Ecuador, the entire country of Ecuador, and then to Bogota. It´s only worthwhile because we get to see the lovely Rees family in just a few days!

Bolivian Blue Light Special is Now Over

Within minutes of crossing the nondescript desert border into Chile we were on a paved road. Neatly painted lines on the road kept our truck on the right hand side and bright signs clearly directed us towards San Pedro de Atacama. We hadn´t experienced that level of advancement since we drove to JFK on the morning of August 29th.


San Pedro didn´t disappoint with its 2nd world offerings. Information was readily available at every juncture and people actually practiced proactive customer service. The first hotel we visited had no vacancy so the owner called another hotel in town and made reservations for us. This being a "service" she volunteered.

Unfortunately, these luxuries came at a price. Chile is expensive! Compared to the blue light special that is Bolivia, Chile was like shopping at Neiman Marcus...well, more like Macy´s. Our cheap hotel was $20, a bottle of water was $2, a sandwich was $5, the internet $2 per hour, and our bus out of town was $30 each. (The bus did have actual leg room, a functioning toilet, air-conditioning, snacks, and an aisle free of bodies and bundles.)

Chile´s cost meant we received our entrance stamp on the 25th and exit stamp on the 27th. Our two days were well worth it. We biked for a day in the very hot and beautiful Valle de la Luna. We saw salt canyons, sand dunes, crater formations, rock formations, and tons of sand. Being on our own, feeling completely safe, enjoying real heat, and the peaceful isolation were absolutely perfect.


We are accepting donations for our return to lovely Chile.

"Thanks, but I´m not looking for a husband."

Geared up for my visit to the mine with dynamite in hand.

I arrived to Potosi alone. After two and a half months of travel, Catherine and I decided to take real space, lest we drive each other crazy. She stayed an extra day reading and relaxing in Sucre, and I headed to Potosi to visit the mines.

Before embarking on our trip I did not know much about Bolivia, but I knew about Potosi and its famous Cerro Rico. The silver mine deposits made the Spanish rich while the land and the people were grossly exploited. Although silver has long been exhausted, the Cerro Rico still has abundant deposits of tin and zinc. 15,000 miners continue to work in harsh conditions that kill many due to accidents and premature illnesses. The miners are organized in autonomous cooperatives that pay taxes to the federal government for access to the mountain. The government provides no services or regulations to the miners. Each cooperative has from 50 to 500 members. They pay dues to the cooperative to pay for the salary of the cooperative president, to contribute to social security and retirement, and to help with the upkeep of the mine. Miners begin working as young as 14 as trolley pushers and can work until they are alive and healthy. They commonly retire in their late 30s.

I visited the mine with a sweet German couple and the very knowledgeable yet arrogant and machista ex-miner, Julio Cesar. Immediately upon entering the mine I knew that the conditions were not meant for humans. For the first 300m I had to crouch down to half my size and sprint in the wet darkness. The opening was about 1m at its widest with trolley tracks occupying the center. Every thirty seconds or so I had to press my body against the side of the mine so that miners could exit the mines with their trolleys full of minerals and debris. Dust and chemicals hung densely in the air making it extremely difficult to see and nearly impossible to breathe.

The miners wore helmets and rubber boots but regular clothing and no face masks. They chewed coca leaves and even smoked cigarettes during breaks. I was surprised as they laughed and joked and carried on like buddies at the local bar. On the last Friday of the month they even drink all night in the mine giving offerings to el Tio, keeper of the underworld of the mine. Their syncretic practices involving paying respect to el Tio with offerings and prayers. He is said to protect them and bring them luck. He represents the fertile masculine demon of the underworld and his revered counterpart is the fertile feminine goddess of the earth, Pachamama.

Miner taking a break with us

El Tio

We spent over three hours in the mine meeting the miners and working hard to stay out of their way. The all male environment harbored a hypermasculine and sexualized culture that objectified women and demeaned the feminine (including gay men). I was constantly asked my name, age, and relationship status. This attention was garnered while wearing my very non-sexy rubber outfit in a space with dust and chemicals so thick that one could hardly see. After the tour Julio Cesar took us to a small room where five miners sat around a metal tool and celebrated its acquisition. They were to use the tool the following evening to remove moisture from a tunnel they had recently discovered in the mine. The celebration meant heavy drinking of 96% liquor that resembles rubbing alcohol and heaps of coca leaf chewing. We sat with the very drunk and female "friendly" miners for over two hours as they aggressively proposed for me to stay in Bolivia and pick a Bolivian miner for a husband. An interesting experience, but one I was happy to end.