Worth its Salt
Bolivia
You can't help but feel sorry for Bolivia. You almost want to put a comforting arm around it, tell it everything will be okay and buy it some M&M’s. Perhaps some Freddos.
I guess that sounds a little bit patronising. But it’s the poorest place on a poor continent, overshadowed by neighbours Peru, Brazil and Argentina economically, militarily (losing several wars, including one to Chile that means they have a navy but no coastline) and – on paper at least – as a tourist destination.
Even physically, they’ve been left behind; people are generally dwarfishly short in Bolivia. (Yep, even shorter than Mexicans, though not quite as round). The country is South America’s ugly duckling.
It’s a chaotic place too. Buses rarely run on time, on sealed roads, or even, as I found out the hard way, to the advertised place. Strikes and roadblocks are frequent and effective, often halting transport for days at a time.
Yet speak to travellers in Latin America and many will hail it as their favourite, and not just because it’s dirt cheap (dorm beds start at USD$2.50). The locals, who are more than 50 per cent indigenous, are generally friendly and humble and many dress traditionally, with bowler hats complementing brightly coloured dresses and shawls. The transport “system” may be ramshackle, but that means there's still a sense of adventure to be had, increasingly absent from more modernized countries.
They may not be as famous as say Machu Picchu, but when it comes to tourist attractions Bolivia has some absolute belters. As well as the Amazon and wondrous Lake Titicaca there is the extraordinary Salar de Uyuni probably my favourite experience from a 10-month Latin American odyssey. The salt flats are the world's largest and highest salt flats.
Most people start their 4WD tours of Bolivia's southwest region from dusty, uninviting Uyuni, where around 40 companies fight for your trade. Here, tales of bad guides and food, broken vehicles and promises abound.
The handful of companies in cheery Tupiza at the southern end of the Salar de Uyuni region however seem to have reputations intact. Plus from there you can save the best till last. The salt flats are reached on last day of a four-day four (around USD$130), rather than the first.
Tupiza (2,950m) itself, with its colourful, cacti-ridden hills and vivacious locals (an attempt to change money ends in a conversation about Level 42) is well worth a couple of day’s exploration. Not least because it'll help with acclimatisation. While fans of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid may want to check out their alleged resting place nearby.
With 1,300kms to cover, you spend a lot of time cramped and cursing in the back of a 4WD. But the views offer ample medicine. In the first day alone we see 60m-high needles of red rock, intriguing lunar-style weirdness in the Valley of the Moon, stop for lunch next to a heard of llamas and pass through desolate adobe villages where children chase us hoping for sweets and sagely charge one Bolivianos (almost nothing) per photo.
“ Welcome to Machu Picchu Bolivia” says Heraldo, our jocular guide, introducing us to ruins of a twice-abandoned gold mining town, thought to be cursed by the devil. The crumbling stonewalls are overrun with viscachas, large rabbit-type creatures with long tails and a predilection for whistling.
They may not be as famous as say Machu Picchu, but when it comes to tourist attractions Bolivia has some absolute belters. As well as the Amazon and wondrous Lake Titicaca there is the extraordinary Salar de Uyuni probably my favourite experience from a 10-month Latin American odyssey. The salt flats are the world's largest and highest salt flats.
Most people start their 4WD tours of Bolivia's southwest region from dusty, uninviting Uyuni, where around 40 companies fight for your trade. Here, tales of bad guides and food, broken vehicles and promises abound. 
The handful of companies in cheery Tupiza at the southern end of the Salar de Uyuni region however seem to have reputations intact. Plus from there you can save the best till last. The salt flats are reached on last day of a four-day four (around USD$130), rather than the first.
Tupiza (2,950m) itself, with its colourful, cacti-ridden hills and vivacious locals (an attempt to change money ends in a conversation about Level 42) is well worth a couple of day’s exploration. Not least because it'll help with acclimatisation. While fans of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid may want to check out their alleged resting place nearby.
With 1,300kms to cover, you spend a lot of time cramped and cursing in the back of a 4WD. But the views offer ample medicine. In the first day alone we see 60m-high needles of red rock, intriguing lunar-style weirdness in the Valley of the Moon, stop for lunch next to a heard of llamas and pass through desolate adobe villages where children chase us hoping for sweets and sagely charge one Bolivianos (almost nothing) per photo.
“Welcome to Machu Picchu Bolivia” says Heraldo, our jocular guide, introducing us to ruins of a twice-abandoned gold mining town, thought to be cursed by the devil. The crumbling stonewalls are overrun with viscachas, large rabbit-type creatures with long tails and a predilection for whistling.
Among the impressively resilient and surprising bountiful wildlife is a limping fox glimpsed in the distance. We kill the engine and wait for him to approach, gingerly, reluctant but desperate, until he is close enough for us to throw him bread. We also see a baby alpaca, less than an hour old.
We continue through desert landscapes, dotted with large volcanoes, canyons, llamas and alpacas, soothing our complaining legs by bathing in natural hot springs.
Laguna Verde is an emerald-coloured lake, guarded by a moody-looking volcano. Later we see lakes coloured crimson, ethereal light blue, white, and all sorts of shades in between, some harbouring large lumps of salt, like icebergs. Almost all have been invaded by flamingo populations, dotted about like a nice kind of chicken pox.
We certainly feel the altitude at 5000m, where we stop to see ejaculating geysers. The bubbling mud and spurting steam fights for noise with the coughing and wheezing of anyone who tries to run in the oxygen-shy atmosphere.
The Desierto de Siloli, more popularly and aptly referred to as the Salvador Dali Desert, is another eye-opener. Splashed with lava formations, some resemble dancers frozen solid in their most outlandish angles. At times harmless mini hurricane winds spin towards us in the distance, as if escaped from a cartoon. It doesn't feel much like the planet we call Earth.
Despite the astonishing landscapes, one of my favourite memories was from a village where the local kids invited us to play football against them.
A large bottle of cola was the agreed prize and confidence was high as the International All-Stars (average age 25) kicked off against Bolivia (average age eight, but captained by “Ronaldinho”). But then none of us had played football at altitude before.
Every dribble or run by our players needed a minute of wheezing and coughing to recover, a spell during which the cheeky nippers duly went and scored. And then mocked our breathless fits. When they had won, the price, they insisted, had always been two large bottles of cola.
Our last evening is spent in a hotel made of salt, where we eat llama before arising at 4am to ensure we're on the salt flats for sunrise. It feels wonderfully preposterous to be surrounded by these vast eye-popping stretches of shiny salty surreal hallucinogenic whiteness. Like warm snow. Or perhaps the moon. Cue several hours of wacky photos.
Considering its downtrodden image, anyone who sees Salar de Uyuni willhave to conclude that Bolivia is a simply amazing place. Afterall, we all know what happened to the ugly duckling…
