I`d read some rather strongly-positive reviews of a place in Uyuni called Minuteman Pizza, inside a hotel and run by an American expat. The reviews were definutely on the money. Fresh made everything (except cheese, I assume) that day, brazil-nut pesto and cooked to perfection. Absolutely rammed with cool Euro-packers and rightly so - I had a llama and pesto pizza, oh my god. Look out Pizza Mein Liebe!
The owner of the excellent Residencial Wara del Salar, Gustavo, was a bundle of energy and very hospitable - we chatted about stuff and things before I went to bed. The next morning I caught the bus with Kasper and Zuren who`d done pretty much the same thing as me and I chatted with Kevin from Ireland on some kind of not-settling-in-one-spot permanent world tour - fun gi. As we came to Potosi I saw an amazing rock ridge like the spine of some gargantuan repitlian thing bursting from its green skin - very impressive. The Euros also weren`t enamoured with the idea of playing gringo-trail prostitutes to see the world`s most lucrative silver mine (Still Oppressing & Killing 2010, oh yeah!) and as such we continued on to Sucre after a lengthy transfer in Potosi`s reflective-blue spaceship/bus terminal. We had a surprisingly comfortable ride due to an unusually half-full bus and arrived in Cuenca-esque Sucre late in the evening, transferred to the nearby HostellingInternational hostel and crashed it.
The next morning I discovered the hostel`s grand hall, balcony and pleasant garden, but I`d arranged to meet Bert at a hostel in town and as such transferred there - this one turned out to be not so nice and we both transferred back to HI the next day. Sucre is a very pretty city and in perfect weather was a very pleasant distraction, complete with a few green parks and a nice variety of native Australian trees. There I found out that in Bolivia its pretty much obligatory to say `Pues` at the end of every sentence... literally translated it means `since`, but that doesn`t make sense. Oh well. I also became addicted to salteñas here, deliciously juicy chicken or beef pies with sweet sauce and vegetables shaped a bit like a footy. 50c :) Big cities have big cinemas, and Bert and I hurried to see the next instalment in our favourite quadrilogy, Resident Evil 4 with the Fifth Element girl. Very good. I found great chocolate in Para Ti`s 70% blend, and excellent capuchino at Florin Cafe.
In Sucre no one drinks coffee or does anything really before 10am as nothing is open. At 2pm everything closes for siesta for 2 hours. None of the Internet Cafes have CD-Roms, but they do have 3.5" floppy dick drives - thank god for that. THey also dont have very fast broadband connections nor very fast employees. Did I mentioned Sucre is technically the capital of Bolivia and quite a large city¿ All the Euros and I had planned to leave north on the Wednesday afternoon, and as such we bought our tickets bright and early and put our laundry into the afternoon before, specifically asking that it would be ready by 3.00pm the next day, `yes, yes, in the afternoon, no problem`. Of course this didn`t happen, despite us reminding the desk guy at 12pm or so, then again throughout the afternoon. He thought it better to watch TV. After just getting our clothes in time we darted down to the bus stop to find there was a `delay`- come back in an hour and no worries.` However Kasper and Zuren were travelling with a separate company and promptly obtained a refund and informed us that there was, of course, a strike/road-block of which we weren`t informed. When is there not? So we quickly returned to get our refund, only to find that when we bought our tickets the desk gimp had written down 120 Bob, taken our 140 Bob and pocketted 20, under the watchful eyes of a fellow employee. After 20 minutes of bullshit I went to try to find some form of policey presence to itimidate them, Bert relayed that fact along and we got our 20 Bob. Morons. Upon returning to the hostel to re-check in I found two of my shirts were missing! They were soon found but far out, we`d had quite an exasperating time in Sucre. We decided to stop worrying about describing the shitness of logistics here and simply say `UnBoliviable!` at regular intervals throughout the day just to cover our bases.
That evening we all went to see `The Closet` at Sucre`s French Club, which because I`d seen it before and it had Spanish subtitles I understood to varying degrees. A very amusing film though, naaaiice. Luckily by the next day the blockade had abated, and as such we all got ticket in a full cama bus (lots of leaning back action and leg room) that didn`t include a toilet, air-conditioning or suspension. The first section was OK, quickly deteriorating after our dinner break to the worst road I`ve ever been on - this between the 2nd and 3rd most major cities in Bolivia! It was at times very scary; the bus rocked dangerously from side to side, even at 5km/h! But as you can see we survived to almost miss our stop at 5am in mid-altitude Samaipata - Bert and I bleary eyed (with grief) as Kasper and Zuren continued on to Santa Cruz.
But what a lovely town - quite touristy but nothing flashy, knowing its market is adventury tourists and alternative types keen on nature and natural things like good food, tai chi and animal refuges. There many European ex-pats have settled, particularly Dutch. The streets are comparatively clean and there is a great main plaza full of trees and a few mental speed-bump sculptures. We woke Isabel the Australian volunteer at Andoriña, a super-cute little hostel with awesome breakfast and great music, to dump our stuff there, eat and relax a little. Later we took one of the self-guided walks into the local hills - we both agreed it was highly overrated but for me it was nice to get some fresh exercise. On the way back we re-united with Arys - yay! We were both quite dehydrated, so of course we rehydrated with a Monster energy drink - good choice! From the French bakery in town I bought a fantastic batard(?) - the best bread I`ve had in a while, actually.
That evening we dined with Ricardo, a CHilean managing fairly high up (or so I could tell) in one of their government`s environmental arms and on vacation for the shortest time of any Bolivian traveller - 10 days. A funny guy. He also joined us for breakfast the next day - Arys and bert then took San Pedro and went to El Fuerte, Incan ruins carved into a massive long rock not far from town. They came back very happy :) Ricardo was taking a trip to the Tree Fern Forest close to the Amboro National Park and as such invited me along for free - cheers mon! This turned out to be very trashed from a freak snow storm a few months before, but still an intersting day and again great fresh exercisings. We were `guided`by our taxi driver who actually knew nothing about anything I think, except maybe driving a car and chewing coca. As such we spent maybe 3 hours in the wrong places before setting out on the long round-trip walk late in the day. After we had heard all kinds of guesses as to what might be our next moves we arrived at a pretty waterfall and I decided enough was enough - I was going to turn around as I didn`t want to spend the night in the hills! Luckily the others saw reason and followed me back. We reuinited with happy Bert and Arys later and happened upon a birthday celebration at Andoriña, yummy cake and thanks for being born, whoever you were!
The next day was the first of Bert, Arys and my 3-day tour into the high jungle of Amboro - as such we were joined by our guide Earvin to go shopping before organising to his Gods Must Be Crazy Jeep and hitting the road :)
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