I suppose it's time to post again, as we've moved rather drastically in recent days. Leaving behind the cosmopolitan luxury that is Buenos Aires, we purchased tickets for a 22-hour bus ride to the city of Jujuy in the northwest of Argentina. Thinking that given the massive duration of the voyage, and our relative softness after months of non-travel, we decided to go with a nicer bus company advertising "semi-cama" seats and a comfortable trip. As we've written about in the past, the buses in Argentina are amazing, with comfortable reclining seats, movies, meals, etc. This one was not. Whoever designed it and also the people who operate it should be dispatched with all speed, before another traveller expects luxury and receives pain. The seats "reclined" 3.2 inches, the movies had no sound to them, and the temperature varied between awesomely hot, and walk-in supermarket frozen food section. Just wait until we have to ride a chicken-filled bus in Bolivia.

Speaking of which, Bolivia is actually where we're presently located. After an evening and night in Jujuy, we caught first a 5-hour bus to the border with Bolivia, then a 10 hour train to Uyuni on the high plains of Bolivia. We chose the train because we expected it to be safer than a bus, and indeed it was. In fact, given that the maximum speed of the train never once broke 15 mph, the only way we could have been hurt in an accident is if the moon decided to fall on us. Actually, I take that back. The ride was in fact quite painful, due to the effects of altitude sickness, which just about all the travellers in our train car suffered from. Seeing as we'd passed a fair bit of time in Buenos Aires, at sea level, only to jump up to about 3600m (roughly 11,000ft), this should not be surprising. It started with a mild headache, which gradually swelled until I wanted to vomit. Exacerbating the problem was the television in the car, (which at first we'd thought would be a bonus), showing a tape of unending episodes of some latin TV show which from what I could gather through the blood-red haze over my vision, consisted of a group of guys and a group of women pretending that the silly competitions they were engaged in were the funniest thing that had ever happened and required, nay demanded, screaming at the top of their lungs the entire time. In addition, the demon in charge of the soundtrack and sound effects for the show had decided that some sort of silly chicken-dance like music, overlaid with repeated jabs of his evil finger on the "wolf-howl" and "wailing-siren" buttons on his sound effects machine were exactly what would escalate the hilarity of the horribly staged "antics" of the "actors" to the point where all watching would immediately have coronaries laughing. Which is exactly what it felt like was happening in my head.

To combat the effects of the altitude, the books and common traveller lore prescribe partaking in the local indian tradition of chewing coca leaves. Coca leaves, for those of you who don't know, are what one could, were one so inclined, process into the drug known on the "streets" as "cocaine". The quantities required are really quite enormous, so of course chewing a few leaves won't do all that much except provide a mild stimulant. So, while I was waiting at the train station for our voyage to begin, I dispatched Tyler (along with our new Israeli friend Roy), to go and procure some. He came back several minutes later with a giant sack, containing a quarter kilo of the stuff. "What? I didn't know how much we'd need." A quarter kilo of coca leaves looks roughly similar in size and shape to a very large bag of flour. So, we began chewing, and benefited from the effects almost immediately. The headaches disappeared, and more energy was immediately available for use boarding the train and sitting on our asses for the next 10 hours. We didn't learn until later that the legal amount to have on one's person is in fact 25g, of which we had exactly 10x that amount. Oh well, I guess Bolivian prison can't be all bad, right? (We've since lightened the load a bit).

So, now we find ourselves here in Uyuni. The high plains of Bolivia look somewhat like Nevada, only drier. They are also substantially higher, at again roughly 11,000ft. The general look of the town is very similar to the town of Mos Eisley in the first original Star Wars, in that the buildings are a dusty adobe colored, the streets are a dusty tan color, and everything around is just generally dusty. The city looks more like something in Iraq, and I keep expecting roving bands of AK-47 toting guerillas to come around the corners shooting. The heating and hot water situation also leaves something to be desired, as the thin air holds absolutely no heat whatsoever. It's very very cold here, and the systems they have to combat the cold revolve around a general low quantity of electicity.

The next step in the plan, which we need to go set up right now, is to head out on a tour of the Salt Flats and various other natural wonders around the area on a 4-day excursion by 4x4. The trip, with 4 days of sites, meals, and hotels, costs $75, which is incredibly cheap really. So, none of you will be hearing from us for a few days, while we bounce around the desert and try to avoid freezing to death.
- posted by Micah @ 4:13 PM