Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

This is one of those things best left to pictures than to descriptions…so I’ll keep it short.

Jess, Sam, Shasha, and I departed Tupiza (altitude 2950 m) at 8 am, for the far southwest circuit to Uyuni.  We had a lovely driver/guide, Carmelo – the most enthusiastic person ever, though he only spoke Spanish.  (Every so often: “YAAAAY!” or “Llamaaaa!” whenever we saw a flock.)  As is required, we traveled in a convoy – two other trucks (four Americans, four Australians), as well as a few trucks (mainly rowdy Israelis) from other tour groups.

Our first day, we visited Quebrada de Palala, an area full of red pointy, needly geological formations; El Sillar, another valley of the moon; Valle del Diablo, an area impassible in winter due to heavy winds and blowing sand (of which we still got plenty, in summer); and the village of San Pablo de Lípez, a village of 150…except we maybe saw three people and a bunch of abandoned-looking houses with broken windows.  Turns out they’re tending to their llama flocks.  Oh yeah, llamas – we saw pleeeeeenty of them.  And ate some llama tamales for lunch too. Continue reading

Tupiza, Bolivia

We left Salta at midnight to catch the bus to La Quiaca, the border city to Bolivia.  Arriving at 7 am (meaning 6 am Bolivia time), we still had to cross the border on foot.  Wowwwww inefficient – at least we crossed in 2 hours.  Going the other way, the line looked at least 5 hours long!  The customs agent would stamp a few people through, disappear for maybe half an hour, then come back and do that all over again…

Bolivia feels different.  It’s more…Asia-like in some ways.  A few more stray dogs on the street, a bit more chaos, less developed, and everything is cheap.  Our two hour bus ride from Villazón (just across La Quiaca) to Tupiza cost only $2.

Now that bus ride was strange.  First off, we were walking toward the terminal, when the bus – already running – approached us, and some guy leaning out the door was yelling “Tupiza, Tupiza!” at us.  If you’re carrying backpacks and in Villazón, where else do you go?  We hopped in. Continue reading

Salta, Argentina

I had a wonderful final night in San Pedro just chatting away.  Making friends while travelling is very different – despite spending such a short time together, friendships become strong quickly.  People tend to be more open, and often talk frankly and honestly about topics usually never broached or cautiously sidestepped back home – dreams, faith, philosophy…  (Also, I learn interesting things, like that tiny owl hiding in the corner of the US $1 bill!  Never knew.)  But alas, I had to leave early the next morning for my 9:30 bus, and I said my goodbyes to Beto, Jimbo, Pamela, and Sofi.

Or so I thought.  My hostel was just outside of customs, and we were stuck at customs for a whole 3 hours.  Frustrated with that, I ran back to my hostel and hung out with them one last time while waiting for the several hundred people to pass.  More hugs, but also more goodbyes – those are always tough.  Well, at least I know now I definitely want to return to Chile someday, not just to see the places I’ve missed, but at the very least to visit some great friends! Continue reading

San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

I’ve had minimal problems with weather in the last few weeks – I’ve been lucky.  You’d think that I’d be fine in the driest desert in the world.  Well, turns out that there’ve been record-breaking rains and floods here.  (In the meantime, southern Chile, which usually has a lot of rain, is suffering from drought.)

The floods have subsided a little, but there are now new rivers and new bridges must be built.  Also, some attractions are not viable in rain, and it still rains here occasionally – odd for a city that usually never sees a single cloud.  As a result, many attractions here are inaccessible for tours – including Laguna Cejar, which I wanted to see: a lake like the Dead Sea in that you float because of the salinity.  When the attractions do open, the tours fill up almost immediately. Continue reading

Route 5, Chile

Spending 24 hours bussing isn’t very pleasant.  But at least it’s much cheaper than flying.  Normally, I’d go for the semi-cama class of seats (cama means bed), which is comfortable enough…if you’re going for like 12 hours.  But if you need to sleep?  Full cama is where it’s at.  After all, it’s AtaCAMA I’m going to, not Ata-semi-cama.

Well, sort of.  My first bus was 17 hours to Antofagasta, and that was full cama.  I slept for a lot of that.  But how do you kill the rest of the time? Continue reading

Santiago, Chile

Immediately upon arriving in Santiago, I booked my passage out again.  Second time in a row (Valparaíso was the first) – bad, I know, for a city I haven’t even seen yet, but necessary during peak season!  My next destination is San Pedro de Atacama, a 23 hour bus ride away.  Unfortunately, all direct buses were booked until Tuesday, and same for buses connecting in Calama.  Fortunately, my Amazing Race fandom came in handy, as I knew I could connect in Antofagasta.  Unfortunately again, my extremely lacking Spanish made this a very large ordeal to book.  Fortunately again, the guy at the bus company was super nice, made sure everything was clear (despite the speedy Chilean Spanish), and even walked me to the other terminal where my bus is to depart.  The whole peak season thing factors in again though – I had to settle for a higher class seating than I intended, which means paying a lot more, but hey, for a full day on a bus, it’ll be nice.

I arrived at the hostel Lihuén recommended, and then managed to meet up with Amanda (Sweden), whom I met waaaay back on my very first day in Buenos Aires!  Santiago is her home base, so she became my guide for the day.

But first – lunch.  Hadn’t eaten anything since the giant dinner in Valpo the night before at 8:30pm, and it was now 2:30pm.  Oops.  Amanda and I wandered in to Barrio Bellavista and quickly found a restaurant.  Upon her suggestion (and the kitchen running out of my first choice), I ended up with pastel de choclo, which is mashed corn, chicken, ground beef, onions, and a couple olives and raisins, all baked in a clay pot.  Delicious beyond imagination, but extremely filling – I couldn’t finish more than three quarters! Continue reading

Valparaíso, Chile

Back in the big city – and this one could very well be my favourite of all time.


Valparaíso is a study in contrasts – upon arriving, it seemed gritty and run down.  El Plan, the only section of town that isn’t hilly, clearly bears the signs of decline.  I was even told explicitly to avoid some areas.  But after taking my first of many ascensor (funicular) rides to my hostel in Cerro Alegre, there is a dramatic change in scenery – and the fact alone that I had to take a funicular obviously sticks out. Continue reading

Pucón, Chile

One month on the road now!

It seems that I left Bariloche at a good time – by my last evening and the next morning, the volcano smoke returned and the view disappeared.

On my buses to Pucón via Osorno, I ran into Ofir and Shir, the two Israeli girls I met hiking Tierra del Fuego several weeks back.  We all had a rather comical bus ride – customs control entering Chile is very strict, and does not allow meat, vegetables, or dairy.  All of us had packed such things in our bags, intending to eat lunch on the bus – but we were due to cross the border before noon!  In order to not waste our food, we ate as much as we could before making it across the border.  The bus company also provided everyone with a light meal of pastries and a cheese sandwich – somehow we managed to not get that confiscated from us at the border!

The ride between Bariloche and Osorno was a bit surreal – volcanic ash covered trees and hills like snow.  If I didn’t know it was 25º outside, I’d think it’d have actually been snow.  The ride from Osorno to Pucón was clear but uneventful – our bus did pick up a ton of hitchhikers from the side of the highway though. Continue reading

Bariloche, Argentina

Immediately upon arrival at my hostel on Feb 6th, I made another impulsive splurge – I really need to stop doing that, eh?  I booked whitewater rafting for the following day, having never done it.

In my dorm room of eight people, I met Renzo, a porteño on holiday with his friends Alejandro and Eduardo – all three were just a smidgeon younger than me.  Renzo spoke the best English out of the three, though I really was trying with my Spanish.  As seems to be a common theme with the Latinos I’ve met, they were all shocked that I was travelling by myself at my age and without fluency in Spanish, but appreciated that I tried.  (I guess they haven’t really been talking to other foreign travellers then, cause there’s plenty of people like me around, and plenty more that don’t know any Spanish!)  Within one minute, Renzo offered me mate.

Mate (sounds like ma-tay) is a very common drink I’ve been seeing for the past few weeks, and it seems that it is inseparable from Argentinians.  People carry around a gourd (itself called mate) made of wood, a pack of yerba mate leaves, and a thermos or pot of hot water.  Everywhere.  I’ve always been curious to try it, and to be offered some without any sort of prompting was a pleasant surprise. Continue reading

Route 40, Argentina

It takes 25 hours to get from El Chaltén to Bariloche by bus. Almost 1500 km. I opted to split it into a two-day bus journey.

Two French girls (Anne and Louise) who were staying at my dorm in El Chaltén gave me the details, as they went the other way – the road is beautiful, but the scenery gets samey. Also, most of the road is unpaved.

They were certainly right. Route 40 is legendary for its barren nothingness. That is no understatement – there is barely anything around, not even little towns or gas stations. We couldn’t make rest stops for food just because there weren’t any places around. Given that I didn’t bring anything other than half a sandwich and an apple with me, that didn’t bode too well for me… Continue reading