The Complete Photos: Bolivia

Since we were only in Bolivia for about a week, there are a lot less pictures than the Peru batch. But, with Isla Del Sol, the salt flats and the altiplano, they might be more stunning on a photo by photo basis. I'll let you decide though:

RTW: Bolivia

Photo Catch Up: Bolivia and Chile

We didn't get to these in Santiago (ironically, we found it harder to do many things in the big city than we did in tiny towns in Peru and Bolivia). And then internet was too expensive in Easter Island and Tahiti (prices have ranged from US 30 cents an hour in Peru to $10 an hour in Tahiti). So here are some of the things we raved about in the past month.

Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca:





The motley crew on the Bolivian Tour (look in the rearview mirror) and pictures of the Salar de Uyuni:









Our first Bolivian Altiplano Lake and flamingos!





The broad barrenness of the Altiplano:




A volcano smoking in Chile seen from Bolivia:



Lago Colorada and Lago Verde:





The colorful hills and houses of Valparaiso, Chile:



When flying into New Zealand this morning, the immigration form asked which countries we'd been to in the last 30 days. It was sort of amazing to realize we're already on our fifth country (Peru, Bolivia, Chile and French Polynesia) in about six weeks. Hopping between three countries (and three time zones) in one week was a little intense. We're looking forward to being in one place for a chunk of time again.

Smokey Robinson, flamingos and California

Sarah´s in the process of typing up a blog entry that will bring you all up to speed on what we´ve been doing for the last couple days, so I´m just going to babble for a bit. Make sure you read her Blog entry first, or you´ll have even less of an idea than usual of what I´m talking about.

Touring with Smokey Robinson - First off, if any of you were wondering what Smokey Robinson has been up to recently, apparently he´s moved to southern Bolivia, where he is a driver for tours on the Salar de Uyuni (the massive salt flats there). I can testify to this, because Sarah and I spent the last couple of days driving around in the middle of nowhere with him. At first, I thought he was sort of a wimpy driver because he refused to drive out onto the wet salar, even though several other drivers were taking their tour groups. But, on the third day, we were involved in a high-speed, pre-dawn, off-road rally in which he was repeatedly passing other 4x4´s in the near pitch black, while careening along thin dirt roads perched over sheer cliffs. So I can only presume that he knew what he was talking about on the salar... and that all the other tour groups who drove out onto it perished. Anyone read anything about several dozen tourists disappearing on the flooded salt flats of Bolivia? Because I´m sure Smokey would have taken us out on them otherwise.

I will say he looks really snappy in a blue race car drivers jump suit.

Side Note: Everything I write from this point on was written two days later. This is primarily because the people in the the Internet cafe we were using in La Serena kicked us out. Apparently, everything in La Serena is closed, or opens and closes at weird hours, on Sundays. I´ve encountered this in other countries... but not to the extent that Sarah and I did in La Serena the other day. We literally spent the last Sunday wandering around (doing a little site-seeing) and looking for internet cafes and places to try calling our families (something we never accomplished). We did find an internet cafe, but after typing for roughly 10 minutes, the girl running the cafe walked up to us and asked us questions we didn´t understand. It was only after a larger man came, stood behind me and said "bye bye" menacingly in English that we realized it was time to go. Anyhow, onward with my initial intended babbling session.

I don´t think I want to hear anyone complain about American Pop Music again. - Those who know me know that I have no love for American pop music, but at the same time, Justin Timberlake looks like a music genious (sic) compared to the music we were stuck listening too during our three day tour. Several nights before the tour, we ate dinner in a restaurant in Isla Del Sol that had some bizarre, lightly-techno, Bolivian dance music playing. I actually sort of liked it. It was unusual, catchy and harmless. And, in the context of that candle-lit dinner, seemed to match the evening. But "Chicha Disco Boliviano" was a whole different story. At first, I tried to play along, bobbing my head along with a song I´d later dub "the puppy song" (because the bass sounded like barking puppies). But after three days of three CD´s basically on repeat, I feel like I can say as an informed authority that American Pop Music is superior to Bolivian.

And, in Bolivia, if you aren´t listening to Bolivian Pop Music, you are listening to American 80´s Pop Music. I´ve heard Bonnie Tyler´s "Total Eclipse of the Heart" more in the last several weeks than I have in the last two decades.

The tour group as disfunctional family - One of the side effects of our extended tour with Smokey Robinson is that we got to interact a little more with the other people in our small tour group. In addition to me, Sarah, Smokey and the tour's cook... who may have been Smokey´s girlfriend... or mistress... or daughter... we also had the two Adi´s from Isreal. Having completed their mandatory tour in the army, they had been spending several weeks on the beaches of Rio De Janeiro and somehow ended up on Bolivia. When they told us that Isreali´s have a bad reputation abroad, I didn´t immediately believe it. That is until at the border between Bolivia and Chile when our bus driver started yelling at them, saying "you Isreali´s better not be trying to sneak some cocaine across the border!" To my knowledge, one of the Adi´s didn´t even drink. In addition, there was Julia and Victor, who were coy about their relationship (Julia was 23, Victor 44) but both seemed to have interesting jobs with NGO´s. In addition, poor Victor somehow ended up being the only person in our tour group (not counting Smokey and his assistant) that didn´t speak English.

Still, you can´t spend three days trapped in a 4x4 with a bunch of strangers without it seems like a remake of the Breakfast Club, but with less crying, and no dance sequence.

Bolivian Food - ...or the complete lack of. I´m still not sure what "Bolivian food" is because I think I pretty much just ate spaghetti in Bolivia. Honestly, I would have liked to try some, but pretty much everywhere seemed to just serve spaghetti.

...actually, that´s not entirely true. I did have a good BBQ chicken sandwich in one place. And, I did eat an alpaca steak. But, at the time, I just thought it was some chewy, overcooked beef.

Wildlife in Bolivia and beyond - I don´t necessarily think of myself as an animal person, but I am also endlessly amazed at how excited I am to see new animals. When we went to the bird sancutuary in Paracas, it tickled me pink (Pink, I tell ya!) to see penguins in the wild. And while most of the animals we´ve seen in Peru, Bolivia and Chile have been domestic (cows, donkeys, pigs, llamas, alpacas, etc), the tour also allowed us to see Vicuñas (otherworldly, wild cousins of llamas), ostriches (Ostriches? In South America? Didn´t even know they had them here... but there they were running around free in the desert), and lakes full of Flamingos (Pink, I tell ya!).

I´m sure I´ll see even more exciting animals before this trip is done... but, its been an exciting start.

Welcome to California - After three weeks in Peru and Bolivia, Chile feels like California. With its warm weather, chain stores and faster internet connections (I won´t even mention how much better the bathrooms are on average), the difference is shocking between the first two nations and the one we are now in. I´ve been to Chile once before and didn´t notice how modern it was, but that is probably because I came straight from the US to Chile. But, in comparison its northern cousins, Chile is a modern nation. I mean, sure most people in California speak English instead of Spanish, but give it another 10 years.

Unfortunately, that also leads to a bit of "sticker shock" too. After several weeks of paying, say, $5 for a meal for two. We are a little shocked that dinners are now running us $10 to $12 for each of the two of us. Also, it doesn´t help that the exchange rate for the US dollar to Chile peso is 1 to 525. So, a the bill for a $12 meal reads as $6300. Also, we´ve seen Dollar Stores in Chile. They are "$500 Stores."

One thing that we definitely appreciate about Chile is their paved roads. After a week of bumping around on Bolivia´s washed out, pot-hole littered dirt roads, the Chilan highway system is smooth sailing. Speaking of which...

I actually slept on a night bus! - I´m not saying it was my best night of sleep ever. But, in comparison to how I slept in the crowded bunk houses that made up our tour of the Bolivian Altiplano, I was sleeping beauty.

Enjoying Grocery Shopping - It's amazing how fun just going grocery shopping in a supermarket can be after weeks of going on tours. Sarah and I spent some time wandering around a grocery store in La Serena looking for things to take on a picnic the following day... and that shopping trip was probably one of the highlights of the day. If not La Serena in general. When everything is exotic and new, it makes the normal seem novel by default.

But, at the same time, there is nothing more humbling than reaching the check out lane only to realize you didn´t weigh and package your produce correctly for them to check you out. Drat!

Pablo Neruda´s House - Today, Sarah and I took an Ascensor (or Funicular) up to see the Open Air Museum and Pablo Neruda´s House. Honestly, I don´t know much about Pablo, beyond that he´s a famous Chilan poet. And I´ve never read any of his poetry. But I have a lot of respect for the man based on his house.

Actually, a lot of stuff has been making me think about Sarah and mine´s next Big Adventure™, which will probably be a lot more domestic in nature. But, mainly, we´ve been talking more about the type of place we´d like to live in eventually, and Pablo´s house had a lot of the same characteristics I think we´d both like to see in our dream home someday: An urban, modern, well planned-out space, that reflects our interests and lifestyle. I know, that´s a pretty generic statement, but it´s interesting to me how much our traveling has made us talk about the type of place we´d like to "settle" more and more, and how much our visions of that place match up.

Time change confusion - OK, this might be tricky to explain... but here goes: Last weekend, while waiting for a bus, another tourist mentioned that there would a time change because of Daylight Savings that weekend. So, Sarah and I were both prepared to switch our clocks forward an hour because of the old "Spring forward, Fall back" saying. But, when it came time to change it we were surpised that the time actually went back an hour. Spring back!? What gives?

Then, last night, another Seattlite we ran into at a restaurant (her and Sarah actually knew some of the same people through their respective jobs... small world, no?), she pointed out that even though its Spring in the northern hemisphere, its actually going into Fall here. So, they are falling back. Meanwhile, all of those of you reading this in the States (or Europe... we know you´re out there) are Spinging forward.

The weird side effect of this is that while the people in Seattle used to only have a 1 hour time difference from us her in Chile... you now have a 3 hour time difference. Crazy, ain´t it!

It´s like time travel... only more confusing.

The Accomodations Will Be 'Rustic' and Other Words of Warning

Without fail, when taking a night bus somewhere, you´ll always be bombarded by hostel and tour operators, hoping to catch you at your most vulnerable. Especially in a town that people only visit to go on a tour of the Uyuni Salar (salt flat desert) and Altiplano lakes and scenery.

So it was upon arriving to Uyuni after one of the most horrendous night buses yet. The road wasn´t paved much past La Paz, and rainy season meant that there was much lurching and river crossing. As usual, we stopped at some part of the city that seemed desolate and far away from anything we wanted, and all we had was the name of the hostel we wanted to get to for a nap before worrying about setting up a tour for the next day. But a persistent woman who smartly said she would take us to the very hostel we wanted to visit AND pay for our night´s room if we went on her tour hooked us. Before we knew it, we were set up for a three day tour starting the next day with two Israeli girls and supposedly three other Brits. We were promised the usual tour, some driving on the salar, lodging the first night, lakes and lodging at a more rustic place the second night, a connection to San Pedro de Atacama Chile where we could catch a bus to Santiago and three hot meals a day.

After a quiet day in Uyuni, we prepared to set off. As we were told, we arrived at the office at 10:30. It seemed that was right around the time the tour operator decided it was time to go shopping for food for the three days and get ready to go. Finally we were on our way around 11:45 with a driver who didn´t speak any English, another mystery woman (who turned out to be our cook), the two Israeli girls (both 21 and both named Adi) and another couple, not the Brits we expected. Turned out they were a nice couple named Julia and Victor from Catalonia, one of whom (Julia) ended up serving as translator for most of the trip.

Our first stop was to go to the salt flats. In the dry season, they must looked like a big field of dried salt, but during the rainy season, they get about two inches of water covering them which leads to a surreal and magical look where the sky and clouds reflect in the water and from a distance, piles of salt and mountains appear to levitate above the surface. Unfortunately, our driver decided he didn´t want to drive across the Salar because of the water, so we had less time there than we would have hoped. Instead, we randomly stopped at a train graveyard and then a small town where there wasn´t much to see or do. When it was time to go, the Land Cruiser wouldn´t start, which didn´t seem to bode well for the remaining days. After a pushing start from another 4WD vehicle, though, we were on our way.

Now, when a tour operator suggests that your accomodations will be ¨rustic,¨ I´d recommend asking for a definition. For some reason, I thought she had promised something similar to what we stayed in Uyuni--doubles with a shared bath. Instead, in the pouring rain, our driver pulled up to a closed entryway to a house and honked for a few minutes. No answer. He pulled up into another house and honked again. This time, someone came out and shooed up away. This was when we found out that no one was actually expecting us, but we would find somewhere to stay in this town. Fortunately, the third time was the charm, and we got out to find a long, narrow room with seven twin beds in it. And an outhouse, which did--ín its defense--have toilet seats, though the flushing was by pouring a bucket of water into the toilet after you´d finished your business.

Around this time, I started wondering about Tyler and I's technique of `shopping around.' I think one of the things that makes us good travelling companions is that we both have low tolerance for shopping and going place to place. If something sounds reasonable and like what we want, we're generally pretty happy to just make a decision and go with the option in front of us rather than be like other travellers we saw, literally going from door to door of different tour operators throughout Uyuni. Oh, well. It's all part of the adventure, right? (And at the end of the tour, we found out we were better off than others with vehicles that actually did break down multiple times and drivers who had difficult personalities.)

The Adi´s, the Catalonians, Tyler and I all kind of laughed and wandered what exactly we would do with ourselves the rest of the evening in the pouring rain and no electricity in our shared dorm room. Fortunately, it was soon tea time, and we all were happy at least that even if our tour was a little questionable, that at least we all liked each other well enough. We also got to learn more about the Israeli army life and the Adi´s opinions of the Israeli-Palestinian situation over dinner. And the generator did eventually kick on for a bit of time with lights on.

Interestingly, the three 'couples' all had different foods we were avoiding to avoid illness. Tyler and I wouldn´t eat the raw cabbage/tomato salad at dinner. The Israelis would't eat the yogurt that had probably never been refrigerated, but that was all over Peru and Bolivia, and weren't sure about the eggs (also sans refrigeration). Julia wouldn´t eat ice cream in case it had water in it. And Victor, probably the most well travelled of us all, probably was the most fastidious (and possibly the smartest), though Tyler and I fared well enough.

The second day was more of what we expected from the tour, bouncing around the desert in the Land Cruiser that seemed destined to die on us, going past lakes full of flamingos, trees made of stone, and Lago Colorada.

That night we stayed in the more rustic of the two nights of accomodation, meaning that we were again in a bunk room together, but this time the toilets didn't have seats and there was no running water in the bathroom. And we had to get up at 4:30AM. But we did get to see geysers during sunrise, hot springs (Tyler and I stuck our feet in--we didn´t have on our suits and the outside air was REALLY cold) and Lago Verde.

Then we arrived at the Bolivian-Chile border to catch a ride to San Pedro de Atacama where we would part ways with our travelling companions.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the soundtrack for the entire trip was extremely bad Bolivian dance music. Extra points to anyone who can find (and listen to in its entirety, oh, maybe 12 times) a CD called Chicha Disco Boliviano.

Overall, it was a really interesting and fascinating trip, and everything I expected out of three days bouncing around in the desert. Being on the altiplano, where you´re high up, but in desert with nothing but some scrub brush and vicunas while surrounded on all sides by volcanos and mountains, is interesting. It all reminded me quite a bit of the American Southwest.

All in all, I didn´t feel like I got as much of a feel for Bolivia as I did Peru...probably because we spent so much of our time there just getting from Point A to Point B. It did definitely feel a little more challenging than Peru, with less infrastructure in general and less English. Lots more pizza and Italian food (I have no idea what Bolivian food is otherwise, except for the bit of llama steak we had with on of our tour lunches). As I think we mentioned after being on Isla del Sol, Bolivia is definitely a place I´d like to come back to, to see La Paz, Sorada and Santa Cruz and the surrounding areas.

24 Hours in the Life of These Intrepid Travellers

9AM Monday, March 5 to 9AM Tuesday, March 6

Get up pack and eat breakfast in preparation for our two hour boat ride from Isla del Sol to Copacabana. Put stinky clothes (we haven't had time to do laundry since Arequipa) on stinky bodies (the advertised hot water is only slightly lukewarm, and it's just too cold in the morning for a cold shower). Then climb down the 200-odd steps to get on a rickety boat with more people than should have fit. And only after borrowing 10 bolivianos from a nice Australian woman. We did not bring enough money to the island, and once we were there, we had no way to get anymore. We had studiously scrimped and pinched our money to have enough for our room, food and return trip, only to find out that it was now 30, not 20, bolivianos for us both to get back. We had 21 bolivianos and one US dollar on us.

After 1 hour layover in Copacabana, board a bus for a 4+ hour bus ride to La Paz.

Arrive in La Paz, having no idea where we are or how to get more bus tickets to Uyuni. I foolishly thought in my 'poco espanol' skills the bus conductor was saying we'd arrive at the terminal and that you could easily take a taxi to town. It was apparently the opposite. But then run into nice travel agency ladies who set us up with the nice (i.e., expensive) night bus to Uyuni, giving us about 2.5 hours in La Paz to eat, drink a beer, and decide we wished we had more time in La Paz.

Depart for Uyuni, on a 9-turned-12 hour bus ride, through a desolate landscape, on an unpaved road that had many ruts and washed out portions since this is the rainy season. During the lurching and bumping, start wondering what exactly would happen if the bus were to tip over and whether it would be better to be on the tipped side or to fall to the other side. Try and pretend to sleep instead of thinking about whether we're even on a road or not.

Arrive dazed and confused in Uyuni at 9AM the next day! Only 18 hours of travel out of 24...... This would be why I'm now referring to this leg of the trip as the 'Bolivian Sprint.'

I keep thinking night buses will be a good idea. And I'm not sure you can get to Uyuni any other way. When I first moved to Seattle, I used to take red-eye flights home for the holidays. I figured they were cheaper and I didn't lose a day to travel. After a few years, I realized that I didn't, in fact, gain any time and only ended up spending a day or so in recovery. As we did today in Uyuni.

But now we've had a well-needed day of R&R and are getting our laundry done. We wondered how long it would take to become stinky, harried travellers. Apparently only a little less than three weeks!

Tomorrow--off to the Salar, or salt desert, for a three day tour. It looks to be fascinating and surreal.

Then Chile!

Island life, city life, desert life.

After Machu Pichu and the Floating Islands, Sarah and I were done with tours for a bit. Machu Pichu was amazing, and the Floating Islands were interesting in their own way. But, at the same time, we were burnt out with being led around by a guide in a group of other confused tourists. On the other hand, we had enjoyed Tequile's island vibe, and were excited by our next destination: Isla Del Sol, in Bolivia.

Just across the Peru/Bolivian boarder is the small town of Copacabana (but, no, not that Copacabana) on Lake Titicaca. After what was possibly the most lax border crossing I've ever experienced ("change your money over there, have Peru stamp your passport there, walk through that arch, and have Boliva stamp your passport, and you're done!"), Sarah and I were in our second country of the trip.

The trip from Copacabana to Isla Del Sol was an hour and 30 minute long passage ferry crossing. While Sarah and I had agreed that Isla Tequile reminded us of Sicily, Isla Del Sol was maybe Sicily... with the weather of the Scottish Highlands (another place neither of us have been). The days would be gorgeous and sunny. But, shortly after midnight it would begin to downpour... really, really downpour. Then, almost magically, the rain would pass around 11AM each morning, letting us explore the island in the sun all afternoon.

And, what an island to explore! No internet (thus our silence for the last few days)and no cars. Little old women and children leading donkeys, pigs, sheep and llamas down the narrow cobblestone paths that served as the islands "roads." Tiny bays with even tinier towns perched over them. So relaxing, after the chaos of the last few weeks. And, we even saw a lunar ecplise while eating dinner the first night.

Speaking of dinner, since it was an island with limited contact with the mainland, there were basically three choices for dinner in each restaurant: trout, omelettes or spaghetti. We did see one place advertising hamburgers, but when we sat down and looked at their menu, "hamburgers" had been crossed out, leaving (you guessed it) trout, omelettes and spaghetti. To be fair, their spaghetti was very good. The cheese they make in this region is soft, salty and goes very well shredded on top of pasta.

Hiking around the island itself was wonderful after spending the last few weeks dodging cars and their horns. The only problem was with the the guys selling tickets. Basically, you need to buy a ticket to get into the ruins on the island. Sarah and I were sort of worn out on ruins, so we hadn't planned on buying a ticket. The main problem with this is that there is really only one path going around the island, and at two places on that path there are guys selling tickets to the ruins... and they won't let you pass until you buy a ticket. To make things even more confusing, it seemed (after the fact) that one of the guys isn't legit. Still, Sarah and I managed to convince one guy to let us pass by buying only one ticket, and convinced the second guy to let us pass buying only one discount ticket (oddly, he had two ticket prices). Still, it was frustrating, and the difficulty explaining that we only wanted to walk around the island only highlighted that life would really be easier if we knew some more Spanish.

Isle Del Sol overall, was probably the first place we felt like we were ahead of the tourist curve... if just barely. As I mentioned, there is no internet, nor any bank (something that proved challenging for us since we didn't think to bring enough money). But, at the same time, you cna see a lot of hostels being built, and the children have already learned the chant of "have you cam-er-ah? Phot-oh-graphica me!" So, in a few years, I see things changing dramatically for the residence of the island.

Anyhow, sadly, our trip to Isla Del Sol was over too fast, and we were back on the ferry home. The return ferry wasn't quite the relaxing, sunny affair that the first ferry ride was. The rain hadn't stopped, and the overcrowded ferry's small sheltered section was packed with tourists and locals making their way back to mainland. The pilot stood stoicly at the rear of the boat, striking a dramatic pose in his fedora and heavy woolen blanket wrapped over his shoulders. He was so focused on piloting the little boat, and trying to see through the rapidly fogging-over windows on the far end of the ship, that he hardly seemed to notice that the boat was so loaded down, that water was nearly slopping over the boats edges.

I sat squished within the boat. On right side of me sat a girl who was either sea-sick, just sick or hung over. It was hard to tell for sure, but her eyes would roll back in her head as she took woozy pulls from an oversized water bottle. (Beyond her, oddly, was a girl who looked so much like Meghan that I kept seeing her out of the corner of my eye and doing double-takes. Meghan - your doppleganger is in Boliva right now.) Around my feet sat several elderly Bolivian women in their traditional bowler hats, shawls and skirts. Occasionally, someone would offer them a seat on a bench, but mere moments later, they'd be sitting on their colorful bundles on the floor again.

And, on the left side of me sat Sarah.

I'm not sure why (basically, I was bored), but I decided it would be a good idea to roll up the ferry ticket... and stick it in Sarah's ear. Obviously, Sarah didn't find it to be as amusing an idea, and suddenly leapt awake, letting out a little squeek of startlment. "Why'd you do that!?" She scolded me, then her face turned a little red, "Now they're all laughing at us."

I turned to see two of the elderly women sitting at our feet laughing. One of them repeatedly sticking as finger in her ear, as she explained to her friend what she had just seen me do.

All we could do was sort of sit there red-faced, as I repeated what has sort of become a mantra of mine on this leg of the trip: "Lo siento, mi esposa. Lo siento."

A short time later, we were on another bus to La Paz. I'd been sort of dreading La Paz since I'd heard a few others describe it in less than glowing terms, and had heard more than one pick pocket story. But, nothing prepared us for what we would see as our bus reached the edge of the valley that La Paz lay within. Spreading out below us, as far as the eye could see (or at least as far as the smog would allow us) was La Paz: A sprawling warren of thin roads, brick buildings and the occasional nest of skyscrappers. A pure urban sprawl, and an amazing one.

Our bus dropped us off in the middle of the old downtown. And, after buying our tickets to Uyuni (our next destination), Sarah and I had a few hours to explore downtown. After grabbing a beer at one restraunt, buying me a Bolivian flag patch at a stall, grabbing a bite to eat at another restaurant, and exploring a few streets, we were back on the bus again.

La Paz, we hardly knew ye. But, while we both agreed that it was best to get on the road again, we also both agreed that someday it would be worth returning to give La Paz more of a chance.

Having heard many a horror story about the bus rides in Bolivia, Sarah and I opted to pay the roughly extra $5 US to catch a ride on a first-class bus, instead of the repainted school buses that seem to make up the majority of the Bolivian bus fleet. The ride was still long, bumpy and sleep still managed to elude me, but at least we were able to ride it out in comfortable, reclining chairs, with a movie, and an on bus bano. Part of us felt like we were taking the "easy way out," but another part of us agreed that there were some cultural experiences (like 14 hour bus rides on uncomfortable, chicken-laden buses) that we could pass on. For now at least.

Roughly twelve hours later (it was supposed to be nine, but the recent rains had turned the desert outside Uyuni into a swamy mess, criss-crossed with newly formed rivers that our bus had to ford) we were in Uyuni. Like usual, I was a gibbering, sleep-deprived mess, but a quick nap in our new hostel has gone a long way to correct that problem.

Tomorrow, we depart on a three-day tour of Salar de Uyuni. During that time, we won't have internet access, and after that we'll be on another bus to Santiago, so don't expect another blog entry for a while. But, I'm sure we'll have plenty to babble about when we reach Santiago.