Today was an transit day with a nine hour bus ride traveling south from Sucre to Uyuni. I generally prefer to do my long bus rides overnight but my friends had already bought their tickets and I was happy to travel with them.
At the bus station we had breakfast cooked by nuns wearing their full habit. One of them must have been in desperate need for glasses as she held her face just inches from the pad she was writing on and kept squinting. It reminded us that life is nowhere near a level playing field and the sheer accident of what country you happen to be born in can often have lifelong consequences.
Before boarding the bus, we double checked to make sure our backpacks were indeed stored with the luggage below. Not only were they there, but there appeared to be a couple of coffins! I hoped they were already destined for specific people and that the bus company didn't have a general policy of keeping coffins on hand just in case!
It's common in many parts of for vendors to board buses temporarily to sell their goods and then hop off. This time, we were treated to a full infomercial! A man selling snake oil, I mean muscle cream, explained the benefits of each of its ingredients (so much so that in fact I first thought he was selling milk) and handed out samples to the Bolivian passengers. This was probably the first and only time on this trip that someone hasn't tried to sell me something! I got a look at the packaging which clearly read unas de gato, cat's nails. Hmm, I didn't hear him mention that as an ingredient. The best part was when he told us the price of this miraculous pain curing cream: one for 8 Bolivianos or two for 16. But wait! Today only, a special price for buying two at 10 Bolivianos or, even better, five packets for 20! The only thing missing was a free set of steak knives. The sales pitch was effective, though, as I counted at least five people eagerly buying multiple packets.
After about four hours, we had a brief stop in Potosi where we found a sketchy looking basement bathroom and some bananas (to clarify, we didn't find them in the same place!). Passing through town, it really looked like a miserable place. The town is featured in a recent documentary called "The Devil's Miner" about life working in the silver mines. It is truly an eye opening film.
It turned out to have been a great idea to take the bus in the day. Not only were there no lights whatsoever along the road (which was mostly unpaved) but the view was incredible. Snow poured over mountains like a spilled bag of sugar. Other mountains were an intense burnt sienna color that must positively glow at sunset. Jagged rocks displayed the geological history of the area.
The land itself was often a scrubland that reminded me of the drive between Urgench and Buihara, Uzbekistan. At other moments, it looked identical to Nepal with its cliff-hugging winding roads. In fact the bus's brakes whined a high pitch squeal every time we descended. I fell asleep at one point only towake up to the sound and momentarily thought I was at the dentist listening to a drill. Wild cactuses grew in a few areas and I noticed a bus of Asian tourists had stopped to have their pictures taken. We passed fields with vivid red and gold flowers. In case this wasn't enough to remind you that you were in Bolivia, donkeys and llamas (or were they alpaca?) roamed the plains and hills, happily grazing.
The sky alternated between rain clouds and bright blue with fluffy clouds. I've never been to Montana, but I think Bolivia could be a rival for the nickname "Big Sky Country."
We passes several villages, each more rural and isolated than the last. A few were clearly abandoned, leaving behind unstable looking rock structures missing thatched roofs.
As I mentioned, the five hours from Potosi to Uyuni was mostly on unpaved roads. Along the way we saw countless road crews busily working to create a paved road. The road crews all wore bright yellow jumpsuits and balaclavas, causing them to look like hobbyist bank robbers with day jobs. I do wonder what impact a paved road will have on the local communities and whether or not the road will actually be maintained once it's completed.
I had just commented to my Romanian seat mate that the scenery was gorgeous when we approached Uyuni. Plastic of every shape and color littered the ground, caught on the low bushes. It was hideous. A nearby factory displayed a sign that read something like "order and cleanliness are not luxuries, they are necessities." All along the way, passengers had been throwing their garbage out of the windows. Empty plastic food container? Out the window. Dirty diaper? Out the window. And so it continued. I had to dispose of a banana peel and was eventually persuaded to throw it out the window which felt so wrong, even though it's organic matter. As unappealing as the litter was, it got me thinking that the only difference between litter and a landfill is that a landfill is organized litter. Guidebooks warn that Uyuni is a dump and exists mainly as a jumping off point to see the salt flats (exactly the reason why I'm here), but I do wonder when the town lost its charm. Or if it ever had any charm in the first place.
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