BOLIVIA, Uyuni , Monday 15th October

Dust everywhere! I opened my bag to find that it had got right into the middle of my clothes. That and my shampoo had exploded again from the constant varying of altitudes. Humph.
But what an amazing 3 days we have just had. I sat down at the end of day 1 to find my words swimming on the page in front of me and concluded that I was not yet qualified to write coherently at 4,300 meters above sea level. As a result my note book is a series of bullet points saying: "Dust", "tired", "red lake" and the like. I'll now attempt to join up the dots.

Day 1
We crossed the boarder into Bolivia in the morning, a rickety little windswept shack greeted us and our passports were stamped. I began to wish that I had not been so optimistic in getting dressed, we had ascended considerably already and the wind was icy. Our cheery tour guide Roberto met us at the boarder with 2 4WDs (very luxurious for 7 of us) and breakfast. "Welcome to Bolivia, here we have lots of cocaine!" He said waving coca leaves at us and chuckling to himself.
From the boarder we drove through a red, dusty, volcanic desert. Our 'road' (dirt track at best) wound between volcanoes and passed lagoons of unbelievable colours. Lagoon Blanco, Lagoon Verde (the colour of a swimming pool due to the magnesium particles being stirred up by the winds) and settled for the night at Lagoon Colorada which was the colour of rust. A red lake gleaming in the evening night, dotted with pink flamingos... I have run out of adjectives again.
Before reaching the lake we drove through Salvador Dali country, named so because of the likeness to the landscapes he used in his dream-like surrealist paintings. Sweeping hillsides of red sand punctuated with strange rock formations, seemingly baring no relation to their surroundings. And we got to climb out of the car and go for a walk amongst sulphur stenching craters of bubbling grey mud...
Our digs for the 1st night were basic dorms in a drafty building. The altitude was getting to some of us by this point, Jo was being sick, Martin had a headache and John spent a restless breathless night gasping for air. Aside from the inability to write and dizziness I seem to have escaped unscathed (so far). Coca leaf tea was distributed as a remedy. It has a bland taste put it does perk you up, especially if you chew the leaves. A slightly numb mouth and a foul taste in my mouth was all I had to show for my experimental chomping, I didn't chew for long enough apparently. Funny to think that that bitter, harmless-looking little leaf is the cause of so much trouble...

Day 2.
Dropping 1,000 metres seemed to help my writing abilities so I was able to scribble more yesterday evening. I felt a great deal more like me after a shower and putting on clean clothes.
We were up at 5.30am and dragged our sleepy, headachy selves into the 4WDs for a long day of driving. The first half of the day took us through some more stunning scenery. We stopped at a couple of lakes, still frozen from the night's minus 7 temperatures, and poka-dotted with clumps of flamingos. We were lucky, it is the season for them now. Lots of photos taken.
We bounced and bumped along for about 6 hours altogether, stopping in a remote little village for lunch. Soaking up the sun to warmed chilled bones, I sat on the dusty pavement and pondered on the outfits worn by the local women. It seems that they wear the same clothes no matter what age thy are and, given the standard solid build and customary long black plaits, hung with tassels down their backs, it is impossible to tell from behind what age they are. They all wear these full knee-length skirts, puffed out from wide waists by 100s of petticoats which peak out from under the hem line. Their little legs are clad in crude knee-length stockings, often rolling down and on their heads are perched funny little bowler hats that do not sit on the head but almost hover above it (Charlie Chaplin style) sometimes with a ribbon of flower stuck in the brim for decoration. Carla says that they have been dressing this way since the Incas.
We arrived at our Salt Hotel to hot showers and warm(er) rooms. The whole hotel is made of bricks of salt including the bed bases, tables, stools and floors. We were fed another good meal by our cook Jacqueline and were delighted to be able to buy some wine to go with it. Bolivian, not as good as Chilean but much cheaper!

Day 3.
And a lie in until 8.00. Bliss. We did not have to drive far until we got to our destination of the day: The Salt Flats. Once another large inland lake like Titicaca it now stands as an empty flatland of shimmering salt that stretches on for miles. It is so flat and so white that there is no perspective so we entertained ourselves for ages taking photos of each other climbing out of shoes, hats and wine bottles or sitting in each other's hands. We then drove to what was once an island in the lake for a BBQ lunch set in the middle of the salt complete with frilled table cloth. The island offered wonderful views from between its cacti. We went digging for salt crystals and then drove on to a salt 'factory' (a family home where the entire family works on breaking down and packaging the salt for sale to the markets). Restraining ourselves from purchasing salt lamas, ash trays or pen stands, we made our way on to Uyuni, a little town on the edge of the salt flats and home to a train cemetry. It is said that the train company never recovered from its robbery by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, on the run from the law in North America, and was reduced to the sad pile of rusting engines that lie there today.
A few photos taken and then time for hot showers and de-dusting before a dinner of pizza that I am promised is the best in Bolivia and a well earned beer I think. Onwards to Potosi tomorrow...