bolivia: part two of two.

so on our bolivian train, i sat beside one of the engineers. it was a hilariously rocky train and so i asked him if the back and forthy action was normal, intentional. he responded something like "why yes, it will put you to sleep!". ha! i told him that by the baby-carriage principle, yes, we should be put to sleep... but this principle employed at high speed is actually rather violent. and i did not sleep. that´s okay. that did mean that i had to keep myself busy. so i just drank a lot of water. midway through the night, i had to pee and my gentle poking at my neighbour was not stirring him, so with my greatest acrobatic skills, i actually jumped over him (with rather full bladder, remember- that takes true talent) and felt really proud of myself, bowing and smiling to my unconscious audience.

in santa cruz, everyone gave me wrong directions, repeatedly, to the bus to samaipata. this got really frustrating and i felt really helpless. in the end, i discovered that it´s not even a bus, but a collective taxi. for the first few hours, when the taxi was full, no one spoke, then when everyone got out of the back, myself and the driver chatted and it was really fun. nice guy. told me to go to the "caves" (quotation marks explained momentarily), told me where the bars are, we discussed music and our countries, and he dropped me at a nice, cheap hostel with rooftop terrace.

i dropped my backpack in my room and headed downstairs, asking the first person i saw if he´d had lunch yet- nope- vamos to la vaca loca (hilariously, a restaurant named the mad cow). we then climbed to the lookout mountain behind the town. we were incredibly slow and pathetically lazy and collapsed in the grass at the top, instead of enjoying the view. i convinced him to take a few photos because the shadows looked nice on the hills and, after all, we´d climbed all this way. he was german and very conservative and far too mature for his age. i think i kindof frightened him.

i went to the internet and a dog sat on my feet. and then some kid lost his marble under my desk. kid went to fetch marble. so at one point, sitting at my computer desk in bolivia, i had a dog warming my feet, a kid on his knees at my side, lifting dog`s tail, looking for marble. it made me laugh.

back at hostel, i met israelis omar and tamir on the rooftop as we watched from above as kids shot red lasers into dogs eyes, making them go crazy. cruel. we all ate together for dinner and there was a large group of bolivian girls behind us that were hot for omar and i had to translate all the flirting, which was pretty funny. i wanted to go to karaoke so bad, but no one else was feeling it, so we went out to one of the bars the taxi driver told me about. there, myself and israelis laughed til we cried (israelis were quite conservative too, but they both enjoyed laughing, while german appeared too scared to do so) and got slightly tipsy on beer and bad bolivian wine that wasn´t as bad as german said it would be. this won´t sound funny, but we laughed repeatedly over saying "acheeky-MON-key" like this english lady omar knew, and whenever we saw each other after that, we would say that and be out of breath laughing. it´s retarded, i know. but you have to hear it. and not be expecting something funny. ah, and my new name to him is shushu.

when we left, i decided i was going to karaoke, with or without company. and i received the latter. so i ran off to karaoke and when i went inside and it was packed to the point of no sitting room and this chica was singing a really terrible, slow, romantic, no-fun spanish song... i returned to the hostel. but really, this town was SO super tiny and SURPRISINGLY hopping! i was impressed.

next day, i went sola to "las cuevas", (the caves). which are not actually caves at all, but waterfalls (thus explaining previous quotation marks). the "caves" are in a lovely setting, and therefore, gorgeous, despite the lack of waterflow due to recent landslides ruining all.. everything. the surrounding mountains look like your average stone-grey rocks, but as if they were fleshy and had been sliced with a knife, appearing to peel open, revealing their terra cotta insides. the lush, uniform green brightens up the situation and contrasts wonderfully and lively with the dusty red-orange and grey.

on the way back, i walked about twelve beautiful kilometers before a fancy SUV picked me up. fanciness of SUV surprised me. bolivia is the poorest country of south america, so enormous, expensive sports utility vehicles aren't the most common. he was a rich bolivian, and i later found out that santa cruz is full of them. santa cruz, or the east side of bolivia in general, wants autonomy from the west because it`s very rich and has mucho petroleo. there was actually a referendum while i was there. they lost. so rich bolivian with name starting with h= i shall call him achay (the sound for pronunciation of h in spanish)= told me at the end of the drive that to compensate him, i would buy the first beer, and he would buy the second. although a beer was more expensive than the bus back from the "caves", i agreed, it sounded like fun. i had no idea until we got out of the car that he spoke english. and perfect, strangely texan, english, too. i didn`t believe that he had never lived in an english country. he was interesting to speak to. he was strangely removed from indigenous bolivia, the way most in the east feel. about five enormous (double canadian size) beers later and i`m a chat-chat-chatter and i slyly try to get him a lit birthday cake, unsuccessfully, because i had since found out that it was his birthday. myself and achay have moved because the resto shut down, we`re drinking more beers at new resto with mike and mark, whom i had met five months earlier. achay leaves, gives me his number and makes what may have been an inappropriate comment (we discussed this, inconclusively).

i convince boys to come to park with myself and israelis next day. while walking down street, see israelis with two frenchies (well, the both speak french, but one is from belgium). they have recruited them, so now we are too many people for one car. but they have new idea- TOUR! i`m entirely confused on the subject, but we pay twenty dollars to take a tour through surrounding parque nacional amboro the next day. the owner and guide is a crazy german who spikes my tea with nice lemon liquer. like, he was really friggin crazy. so our nice big group ate fancy that night, then grabbed some beers and vodka from the convenience store. we sat atop the roof and played drinking games and the boys got wasted to the point of scribbling "fuckface wins!!" with permanent marker on mike`s legs and taking pictures of him with ladie`s underwear on his passed-out face. i went to bed far before them- i started at two p.m., remember- but at six a.m., mike came in asking if he could sleep in the spare bed in my room since he was at another hostel. he was very confused in the morning. but they were a fun group.

surprisingly, everyone felt pretty okay in the morning. we bought amazing french goodies from local bakery and hit the road with crazy german. the road was pretty rough. multiple times we were at such an angle that i was pretty sure we were going to tip over. the forest, at a certain altitude, was full of beautiful fern palms and heavy, hanging mosses. we even swung from jungle vines! it was lovely.

israelis and i got the night bus to sucre. at first, i had an old man sitting in MY seat (i`ve come to very much prefer the window seat on the bus because you can lean against something, even if it`s numbingly cold) who asked me if my book was pretty. (?) i thought how looonngg this bus ride is going to feel. and then he left and i stole back my seat, hoping he wouldn`t motice, but he never returned. in his place were not one, but TWO people- a man and his too-old-to-not-be-paying-for-own-seat son. the long trip consisted of the youth essentially ATOP me the entire trip, and not much in the way of sleep involved.

in sucre, we did it israeli-style (as admitted by my company)- you first look at every hostel you can find for the best price, then settle, nine times out of ten, on the first one you check out. i didn`t mind though, since i`m even cheaper than the average israeli. we ate breakfast then boarded the DINOMOBILE!!- the clawed vehicle that transports those willing to the dinopark. the dinopark is complete with lifesize replications, suspected dinosaur sounds, and the main attraction- a real far away wall with dinosaur prints on it, discovered by the cement company. we had to just trust them on that because the sun had not yet hit the wall, making shadows minimal, contrast non-existent, and thus we were just staring at a giant, mud-coloured wall of earth. that eve, i went to a really lovely bolivian dance show while the boys went to the pub. i was really impressed by the show; it was surprisingly professional and well-done. a common thing i`ve noticed with traditional dancing in these countries is that they rarely smile. they don`t look like they`re having much fun. two exceptions include the pre-carnaval in oruro, and... this^ show in sucre.

next, ma boys went to the salar while i went to potosi, a mining town. it was lovely at night, the mining mountain (cerro rico) having its silhouette detailed with what looked like a string of christmas lights (i`m sure it`s something much more useful than that). potosi is at very high altitude- at 4060m, the world's highest city- so i had SERIOUS soroche (altitude sickness) that night in the form of a screaming, piercing headache that did not subside for the entirety of the night, ensuring i received exactly no sleep. i was in tears, begging my head to please ssshhhhhhh- it felt terrible.

painkillers and aspirin did absolutely nothing, but in the mines the next day, coca leaves cured me! miracle!! this is why the coca leaf is so important- it is extremely effective in curing not just the headache symptoms of altitude sickness, but many others, as well. so on my tour of the mines, i met angelica, an ecuadorian who has lived in the states as well, and thus has perfect spanish and english. she was a lovely, smiley, sweet, amicable woman with whom i had a lovely time. we were both very happy to discover that the tour provided us with boots and miners` gear and hardhats with lights. they didn`t blow anything up with dynamite like i had hoped. geared up, feeling like posers, fools, but most of all tourists to the extreme, we, along with other tourist groups, strolled through the miners` market looking for gifts to give them. flavoured sodium bicarbonate (helps effectiveness of coca leaf-chewing), coca leaves, pop, dynamite and fuse. we chose coca and pop because our guide, a former miner, told us it was the most important. he said they get really dehydrated and i suggested maybe water was better then, and he ignored me.

we entered and no matter WHAT the guide says, that place is NOT ventilated. at times it was beyond suffocating. many things that the guide said appeared like post-hoc excuses. like that miners` wives aren`t allowed in the mines. they say that it`s because the miners are in the earth, in pachamama (mother earth), and she`ll get jealous if the wives come in too. i think they just say that because they don`t want women in the mines. also, they need to drink the purest liquor in order to find the purest minerals and to purify their lungs. buuulllll- you just wanna get drunker quicker, you fools, and sorry to tell you, 98% liquor is only going to add to the deterioration of your body, not the cleansing of it.

tio (uncle) is their god because tio is the devil and they must worship him because they`re working the underworld. the sculpture of tio always has an enormous penis and when angelica and i got our photos taken with it, i suggested we touch it, an idea that was greeted by my two spanish companions with shocked laughter, but we did it. oh, i`m so outrageous. the guide openly admitted he was an alcoholic while pouring a little offering on the tio sculpture and then drinking himself. the guide told us that the miners work here because it`s great money, and they only work short-term, generally, because it`s so incredibly bad for your health. it`s interesting because he said that they do not know how to spend their money properly in bolivia- they only think short-term, so they blow it all on useless junk, or drink more. so in reality, it`s just this terrible cycle where, due to mining, people are dying from both terrible respiratory diseases and dangerous work environments, and their lives aren`t even getting any better. sad. and this isn`t the first time i`ve heard of the "bolivians only think short-term/don`t know how to spend their money" deal- in samaipata, someone gave the example that a taxi driver only wants his lunch that day, he doesn`t think of the harm to his vehicle, so he`ll drive you on a terrible path that cracks his muffler and kills his engine as long as he gets the fare. he doesn`t think what the ride will cost him in maintenance, in the long-run.

we saw two men drilling into the top of a tunnel, mud sludge spilling into their exposed faces, incredibly loud. eleven-year olds work the mines. while we were there, they let off five sticks of dynamite somewhere deep in the mine which radiated through the mountain and you could feel it more in your bones than in your ears. creepy. one group of miners told the guide to get out of here... and leave the chicas. eek.

after the tour, we went to a vegetarian restaurant and chatted. i hugged her, told her she was one of my favourites, and walked home in sockless boots, (my miners boots had holes in them and my socks were soaked), which felt absolutely terrible. but it beat walking bolivian markets barefoot.

then to tupiza on the night bus. arrived at stupid time- 3am- i should never have taken the night bus. it is the middle of a desert-like area, so the night is beyond freezing. shaking, numb, i retrieved as many warm articles from my backpack as possible and waited for the hostels to open up. one guy did find me sitting on the streetside and tried to find me a hostel, but there was no room in one, and the other was too pricey, so i chose the bone-chilling cement sidewalk instead. three hours later, one did open up and a bitter old woman invited me in. a $3 bed has never felt so beautiful. the shower electrocuted me. thrice. oh well.

since all the tours had already begun by the time i woke up 6 hours later, i decided to wander and try to find all these valleys of crazy rocks that everyone speaks of. the maps were terribly simplified and... well, just terribly terrible, so i ended up completely off course, but in a very peaceful and nearly completely deserted area with some quite cool rock forms. so all ended well. on the way there, i thought there would be a fantastic foto if i climbed this mound of rocks. i ended up sortof dangling from a precipice, lost my open umbrella to the wind, and having an old car in a dried-up riverbed honking to ask me if i was alright. but i got the shot.

next day, i did a horseback tour with a fifteen-year old. i couldn't believe he was my guide. and he looked even younger- twelve would be pushing it. but at least he could control a horse. i, on the other hand, believe that horses can sense power. and when they know they have it. and when they know their rider does not want it. and then they take advantage of it. i had NO control. it got to the point that mister 15 had to trade horses with me because mine was dragging me through excruciatingly painful bushes of the spiny sort. and then the new one started acting up. so clearly, i was the problem. i don't know how to have control over animals, and i don't particularly want to know how... so why am i on a horseback tour? i felt terrible, as i do everytime i ride an animal's vertebrae.

nevertheless, we continued and eventually finished the long and beautiful tour of the area. it reminded me of northern argentina in its striped and multicoloured hills and canyons, and insane and unbelievable boudlers of all shapes and sizes, all accompanied by random cacti. really beautiful and textured. we had a giggle in "valley of the machos", which is filled with long, slender, phallic rocks topped with angled, oval-shaped ones. in other words, valley of the penises.

then i was off to uyuni by train. hilariously, every single person that got off the train was an obvious tourist. and about half of us went to the same hostel. i roomed with a nice swiss girl named alexa- we got along straight away and booked our salar de uyuni (salt flats) tour for the next morn. she did a student exchange in bracebridge, ontario, where my grandparents live! what are the chances? a senile, insane old lady unjustly convicted us of bread, cheese, and juice theft the next morning.

the salt flats were pretty insane. just as far as the eye can see, a field of flat white. when the mountains get involved, it looks quite lunar. the texture of the flats are neat too, since they form this perfectly uniform, cracked-looking appearance, like ancient painted furniture... i loved it. apparently at parts the salt can be about ten metres thick, and it's regenerative, and it comes out of the soil because of water or something. this supplies all the salt of bolivia, and likely beyond.

isla de los pesces (island of the fish) is... so bizarre! picture the miles upon miles of flat white... a few random mountains in the distance... then slowly approaching an "island" in the white... made of CORAL... and covered thickly in thousands of cacti. it was so random and unexpected and made for gorgeous photos.

the rest of the tour was in a desert of sorts. i'm not sure what to call it. but it was extremely unreal and very soft, as if all the lakes and rocks and mountains were directly from a hazy dream in chalk pastel. very soothing, and probably dull if seen only from photos, but in person they are very impactful. i loved it. i couldn't help but commenting, more times than necessary, on how insanely beautiful it was. i have never seen anything like it. there are even random flamingos.

we also visited laguna colorada, an enormous red lake rimmed with beautiful, volcanic-looking (but not) mountains, and containing an obscene amount of flamingos. it is red because of a bacteria that grows in the lake. also, the super smelly geysers were very cool- the first time i had ever seen a geyser. crazy steam shooting at high velocity straight from the earth, loud and continuous. the more tranquil ones were neat too- a maze of smooth, but divided, surfaces... the earth's pores, creating a mysterious dry-ice-looking atmosphere of sulfurous gases. very cool.

we also visited hot springs veeery early in the morning, which was a delightful experience. the mist was rising from the pools of the lake and springs as the sun rises and plays off all steam, giving everything such depth. it looked way less cool later in the day, when we circled back on our way out. at the springs, we were at 5100m (remember, altitude sickness can start at 2500m), and we had slept at 4715 the night prior. unfortunately, half our group was not feeling so hot, two of them having spent the night vomiting, so only alexa and i enjoyed the springs... but what can you do? i was even glad to have had altitude sickness back in potosi, just so that i didn't have to deal with it then.

arbol de piedra (tree of rock), another highlight of the area, made you feel like you were placed directly into a freaky, surreal, dali painting. this enormous, pot-marked, triangular prism-like rock was balanced on its tip, randomly in the middle of the desert, surrounded by some more normal relatives. some people climbed the delicate rock to get their photo taken while i ranted in spanish about how humans are going to destroy everything.

at the end of the three days, the last point of interest was an abandoned train "cemetary", full of classic, rusted old trains. it was so random, it made me laugh. no one else laughed. they all were suffering from either diarrhea, vomiting, headaches, or a combination of the three. i almost felt guilty about feeling good. but what a magical area, all in all.

then off to la paz again. it was a pretty cold and pretty bumpy ride, but not as bad as everyone says it is. la paz is set inside a ring of mountains, so you descend from a mountain into a valley of sorts. before we descended, i was shocked to see the mountains beyond the city limits looking so white that i mistook them for puffy clouds. they were absolutely gorgeous and enormous. i liked la paz considerably more this time around (i had visited about three months earlier).

this time, i was able to visit the coca museum. it was incredibly fascinating and well done- i was so intrigued that i even sat down and took notes. it talked all about how the coca leaf is such a symbol of the andean identity and how the US actually got the growing of the leaf banned entirely for awhile, just because they made the leaf into a drug problem. i got so mad at the states. the states are 5% of the population and 50% of all cocaine use. bolivia's been using coca for over 4500 years without a problem, it's the foreigners that made it a problem. coca means so much to indigenous ecuador, peru and bolivia- it's used in ceremonies, to connect people, to help altitude sickness and to nourish, etc. it also talked about how the spaniards used the indigenous bolivians as slaves and the coca leaf was actually made mandatory in their work because it improved their performance so much, and it was the only "food" they were allowed all day, and they had to purchase it- 12% of their salary, and it was taxed because the government knew they couldn't live without it. i have even experienced the power of coca, not only in the chewing of it aiding my screaming headache, but in sharing it with locals, feeling the bond that forms when you offer them coca leaves. it is so important to them, it brings people together.

anyway, in la paz, i also went to a lookout and kept running into things, like metal cones and small children on bikes... i blame the altitude. i came out very bruised. then i randomly stumbled upon a temporary local photo exhibit, which was nice- some really good work. i had a wacky, spiritual, scottish sex-ed teacher as a roommate and we got along FAMOUSLY and instantly, i really liked her. she would say things like "my soul is just crying out for a room with a view, you know?"... and i would know. she also often sensed and described people in terms of energies, which was really interesting. i had put up a poster begging for company on a 3-day trek from la cumbre to coroico, but i got no bites. i was hiking this trail in place of biking the extremely touristy and insanely overpriced "most dangerous road in the world", which is in the same area anyway. i wanted to be with people because the travel guide said it was pretty sketchy since some trails passed through illegal coca planations and quite a few people have been molested. but... when i find no company, i go solo, as evidenced by this trip as a whole.

in the crazy hunt for my bus to villa fatima, i saw this young kid who chewed his gum really obnoxiously and suspiciously (seriously!) and looked at me. then, i finally found my bus, far from where i had seen him, and he gets on my bus a few moments later. i give dirty look. then he gets off at my stop, keeps looking over at me, i give more, very dirty looks. then he gets on my bus to la cumbre. i'm freaking out by this point, shallow breathing and pissed and paranoid, in my head rehearsing the bitch-out i'll give him if he gets off- i won't even LET him get off, then freaking out when i wonder if they will let him get off, should i make him walk in front of me or behind? or with?! he's gonna get me no matter what, connivivng son of a bitch. i worked myself up to a ridiculous degree; i was already at REALLY high altitude, not receiving sufficient oxygen (in fact, that could explain my behavious in general.... i always blame the altitude), and now i'm practically hyperventilating. then the micro driver starts chatting with me, real nice, and i get off at my stop, the top of a deserted mountain with a giant rio-like christ, alone. just me and my enormous sigh of relief. c'mon, that was too coincidental- he was after me. i'm still sure of it. he just became too conspicuous to get off on that mountaintop and lost his balls, i know it.

so i hiked n hiked. i ascended the apacheta chucura pass at 4860m. it was lovely, with bright blue lakes on barren-earth mountains, snow-caps in the distance. simple. there was a sign that frustrated me and wasted much time- right before a fork in the road, on the left side, an arrow pointed BETWEEN the two roads. is this a joke? it could be interpreted to mean either road, how retarded. i studied footprints (no information provided), and changed my mind numerous times, but finally got on the right track. once at the pass (the part where you cross the mountaintop), i rested and enjoyed the view and shared coca with a youngster coming up the opposite way.

this was originally an inca trail and it's amazing how built up the path can be with rocks at times in order to level out the trail. i enjoyed the pastures and the winding, ropey river below. also, although i'm NEVER into ruins, it was neat to sit in the overgrown, topless ancient inca resting stop and think "wow... they rested here too". it was all even more beautiful once the late-afternoon glow and shadow hit. very peaceful, but more importantly- not so touristed. then i arrived at the first deserted village and the weather changed immediately to thick cloud. i essentially just descended into cloud. not as pleasant, but it gave an interesting and eerie aura to everything. misty layers of donkey are always better than not-misty layers of ass.

i settled in on what i thought was the first-day sleep spot. i later found out i was wrong and had to rush for two more hours to make it in daylight. my feet were dying. it wasn't even a hard hike, but just BEING in my boots was unbearable. t'was a shame because the room i had set up was in the home of some very nice villagers. at the next village (okay, three huts), an old quechua lady who spoke no spanish motioned for me to stay with her. i then met an argentinian named flor, and later her two friends sebastian and eva: my new hiking partners. sebastian had a thick, translucent white poncho covering his bed. i stared at it forever, trying to figure out what it was. finally, letting loose my laugh associated with the fact that it appeared to be a giant condom, i asked what it was. sebastian held it up to him, the poncho hood billowing over his crotch, pointed to his girlfriend and said "we like to be REALLY careful- i am SUPER fertile." from thereon in, everytime i saw the thing i laughed until i could no longer breathe.

i ended up sleeping on a bed in the lady's kitchen. so in the morning she smoked me out with the unventilated fire she made on the floor. not only was there no chimney, but not even any windows- it was suffocating, and she was entirely accustomed to it. when i left her that morning, i handed her the money owed and she began yelling and i couldn't tell by her twisted face if she was pissed, but the yelling appeared to be negative. this left me feeling crappy. i have no idea why she was yelling, plus i thought about how the sweet smiling look she gave me when she wanted my business was the last smile she gave me. i don't like her very much, i decided.

the second day's hike was more jungly, wet, enclosed. eva and bastian were cute with their bird-watching and harmless disagreements over colours and shapes of birds seen while referring to bird-watching manual. we stayed with marlena that night, an absolute sweetheart. bastian noted what good energy she had (argentinians are alllways more aware of energies of a person, i have found) and how, even though this night we were sleeping in a pile of hay under only a roof, this night was still better because of our hostess. she was sweet and pure and genuine. and there were kittens! the tiniest little kitties you ever did see. they filled me with great joy. we were in the middle of NOWHERE and we asked marlena how her cat became impregnated and she said it must've been the pumas. also, the spot was maarrvelous- a perfect blend of tropical meets mountain. banana trees, tree tomatoes, lime trees against an enormous gaping valley and soft green mountains rising. the bathroom is a squat over a deep hole, accompanied by a beautiful and insanely peaceful view- the clouds slowly rolling in, filling the cracks and corners of the valley, then the middle, layering the mountains. i could have stared at it forever.

there was a canadian Q&A that night, while sleeping in the hay. they asked me to sing canadian songs and tell me canadian things and explain canadian food... they could not understand how we could have such little identity. i'm convinced our identity is in our lack thereof. we're a nation of immigrants, diverse, multicultural, it makes things interesting. and when it came to politics... "she's a complete disaster", flor noted, which i thought was hilarious and summed me up just perfectly.

next morn, off to casa sandillani, home of japanese immigrant tamiji hanamura. gorgeous spot, surprisingly developed- even glass on the windows! windows at all. shockingly, even beds with mattresses, too. how the HELL they got that there, i will never know. but i bet it involves donkeys. lots of donkeys. tamiji was a friendly, crazy, wrinkly, hunched, fast-talking mixture of spanish and japanese. he was funny and i didn't understand a thing he said. we signed in at his guest book and heard about his journeys (well, what they could make out of it), then continued to chairo. i left my group behind and enjoyed solo hiking for awhile. truck ride from chairo to coroico.

then, not knowing it was a forty minute uphill hike away, we decided on hostel sol y luna. it is one of the prettiest hostels i have ever been at- amazing view of the valley, two pools, meditation house, beautiful cabins, library, restaurant with great food, trails, tranquil, quiet, flowers, clean. $3.50. have i mentioned how much i love bolivia? i got insanely lazy here and while everyone hiked to apparently mediocre waterfalls, i dipped in freezing pools and discovered the warm, entirely windowed meditation house and did the logical thing- enter... and fall asleep in the sun. almost meditation. close enough, really. it felt wonderful.

i was invited to a fireside bbq at one of the cabins. it was really lovely. probably my favourite part was that it was like being at a canadian fireside bbq, except NO BUGS! (only huge, scary, wolverine-like dogs that approach you, ominously cracking branches, out of the forest... scared the shit out of us). you never realize how many bugs we have in comparison to the rest of the world until you realize how little the rest of the world has. that was a stupid sentence. it was a really great girls' night.

the next day, after a delicious quinua and veggie dish, flor and i were off to la paz again. BEAUTIFUL ride on the return, winding along the tips of lush mountains, plunging valley below. we saw a bus that had gone off the road, metres below, on its side, firemen pulling people and things up ropes, news teams. it was intense.

then to copacabana. flor and i split up for what was supposed to be temporarily, but when you're travelling, oftentimes a quick split means a forever split because it's nearly impossible to find each other, to coordinate, again. your life is just too unpredictable. i do not like trying to meet up with people. plans are not part of my plan. the drive to copacabana, a small town on the coast of the beautiful lake titicaca, was gorgeous. i discussed the country with my bolivian bus buddy. he kept complaining about bolivia, and since i knew nothing about the politics and the state of the country really, i just told him what someone more knowledgeable had told me: that bolivia is the most progressive country in south america right now. i think he was at least a little happy to hear that from a foreigner. i have no idea if it's true.

at one point on the ride, there was the vibrant blue waters of titicaca backed by mustard hills, then backed by majestic and stunning white snow-capped mountains, backed by a textured near-stormy sky, all bright but dark. unbelievable. in awe, i was.

off the bus, simon approached me and offered a $2 room. deal. real sweet man, that simon. while walking to the shore, i inadvertently followed a group of three. i tried to slow down to make it appear more like i wasn't following. kristof later told me that had i sped up just a little, he would have spoken to me. i told him that i had slowed down for aforementioned reason, and we had a little giggle because it's so funny that we both were so conscious of this happening. anyway, at the coast i slowed down to take it all in and i therefore lost them.

ten minutes later, while telling a beckoning waiter that the tacos were too expensive- why are they so expensive??- the same group of three passed me and roxy asked me if i was travelling solo, then invited me to join them! what a pleasant surprise, how nice! so i joined the aussie/south africa mix. gay kristof and i skipped along the road belting the 70s-80s songs spewing from roadside restos and we perused the entire main street looking for the best eats. we, of course, settled on the first one we checked out. later, three others entered and right before their bottoms hit the seats, kris invites them to join us too- why, there's no use in us sitting separate. those south africans are the most friendly, open people i have ever encountered, i was so impressed by all this. so that went from a solo night out to sitting with seven people from all parts of the globe, and a german joined a half hour later. awesome. a wonderful union.

when i returned to the hostel, the front door was not only locked, but not... available. there was an enormous metal pull-down in its place. so i just banged.. and banged... and finally simon opened up. i felt bad. i was only out til eleven.

in the morn, roxy, kris and i ventured to the closest mainland point to the isla del sol (where the mayans thought the sun was born or something... or maybe the incans... good lord, my history is terrible). it was a gorgeous four hour walk. really friendly locals. at one point, an old man slowly hobbled towards me, grabbed my right hand with two of his, and nodded his head with a cute smile. it was so touching to feel so... randomly appreciated? maybe i'll do it to someone someday. i might have to be really old and crinkly for it to work, though. we met two australians on the walk and when we stopped at the peninsula, i found out she was a footcare specialist and she tied my shoes differently so that it removed the pressure from the sides of my insanely wide feet. thank god i ran into her. it helped so much, i am forever in her debt.

on the way back, we walked about an hour and then picked up a ride from a broken-down old truck. the back, where we were, was built of wood. a long time ago. completely falling apart and terrifying. but in its horror, we found excitement. there were a few boards missing from the floor, and the whole rear contraption moved with every bump in the road. no suspension, so multiple times we could be found flying metres in the air (okay, feet), and the whole of the trip was spent bent-kneed, grabbing the wobbly sides for dear life. a good workout. and this is the sort of ride that deserves a tip in bolivia. love it.

we travelled to puno, peru that eve. we stayed at probably the nicest hotel i've stayed at my entire trip (save the expensive one in san diego because i was dying and penniless and the hostels wouldn't take me cuz i had no ID and the mexican receptionist took pity on me). clean, comfortable double bed for single person, tv with english movies, table and chair, real amount of space, private bathroom with shower, big window, $5.

kristof and i wanted to go dancing, so we went for money and a lil liquor. on the way, we passed a really fancy, beautiful, and artsy hotel. on the return trip, kris convinced me (since he doesn't speak spanish) to pretend we were a rich couple looking for a room. so that i did. in my smelly, torn clothes. being foreign has its advantages. it was one of the coolest hotels i have ever seen, mostly because of how classy but artsy it was. tempting, but still was preposterous asking $40 for a double when just down the street you can get it for 5. the bellboy was nice, telling us where to go out that night. the lady at the corner shop was nice too, helpfully telling us which were the cheapest liquors and what we could mix with it. the next morning i told her we drank the whole bottle and she laughed and said she understood why i was now buying 2.5 litres of water.

that night was a REALLY fun night. we danced and danced, changed clubs multiple times. everyone was really tame in the clubs, while we were wild and flamboyant. i can't count the number of times kris said during and after that night how much fun he had. and i felt the same. the night ended with a potato, because i don't eat barbecued cow heart.

sadly, my friends left for lima the next day. i found a new canadian friend on the boat to the floating islands, though. which i shall discuss in the coming, final update(s?). i've been bad even starting peru, but the friends carried over countries, so i did the same.

stay tuned... we're almost finished!
much love,
shay.

raaandom:

- i love when i meet genuine locals, since lots of them just want your money or look down on you or just make you feel bad... it's so nice to meet kind people that are just interested in you as a person instead of you as a tourist or foreigner, instead of negatively concentrating on your differences, they either celebrate or ignore them, either way embracing you.

- to me, there's something oddly comforting to me about the smell of horse maneure. i think it's because it reminds me of the farm.. a safe space of my childhood... i don't know why cow shit doesn't have the same effect.

- "i don't like animals. i prefer plants."- flor.

- there was a scottish girl who was at the cabin fireside bbq and there was seemingly nothing negative about that girl. just purity, just blissful innocence. it was the definition of buena onda (good energy), really: complete absence of negative energy.

- on the salar de uyuni tour, at that insanely high altitude, was one of the few times in my life that i've not felt hungry! at all, really! what a strange and wonderful feeling! p.s. it's apparently the cleanest place on earth because it's all salt. a tourist told me that, so don't quote me.

- there was a lady on the bus to la paz that made me realize something. she was indigenous, and normally, at least personally i have found, they are quite rude and very unaware. i don't know if it's on purpose, towards me, but i have studied them with others, and while it may be more pronounced towards foreigners, they kindof do it towards everyone. this is a HUGE generalization, by the way. and hard to describe. but manners appear to mean nada, and they will rest their kid on you, step on your feet or smack you with their handwoven slings bags, sorries are never said. it's cultural, i'm sure, but it drives me a little mad. i didn't realize how much i noticed it until this indigenous lady who sat beside me apologized for her child touching me in the slightest, making an effort to keep her off me, smiling at me, really looking at me and seeing me as a real person. i can't say how much i appreciate that consciousness. makes such a difference.

- so many people DIED in bolivia! tourists, too! two cars crashed on the salt flats- eight people in each, gasoline on roof exploded, everyone fried. another car of eight lost tire on "the most dangerous road" and took both themselves and a biker off and fell the hundreds of metres to their death, not one week before another biker took himself off without any help. jesus christ.

- in la paz, you can visit the san pedro prison. organize it with an inmate, they give you a tour. inside the jail, there is apparently a coke factory, cafes, restaurants, you get a free line of coke and can smoke and buy weed and other drugs. the inmates can pay to bring in their families to live with them, there's tv, everything. they run the show. i so fully disagree with paying two hundred bolivianos to enter and support these people's running of an institution that is supposed to be running them. as much as it intrigues me, i would never support that out of principle. makes me sick.
i'll just read the book, "marching powder", instead. hopefully proceeds don't go to inmates, too.

- "bolivia" sounds like it belongs in eastern europe with all the other "-ia"s.