Bolivia, the first Great Adventure! It began in the small desert town of San Pedro de Atacama, where there are a number of outfitters that run trips across the Bolivian border to the Salar de Uyuni or Uyuni Salt Flat. The town as mentioned in previous stories was filled with other travelers, and the architecture was more reminiscent of the adobe buildings in North Africa such as Timbuktu than what one would expect of Chile. However, the town was pleasant minus the dust.

Trips to Bolivia can only be arranged through specific outfitters that have Bolivian guides because these guides are able to work in both countries, but the Chilean guides are not allowed across the border. Also, there is no bus network to Uyuni because the roads are only passable by 4 wheel drive vehicles. After searching many companies we finally decided to pay a little extra and go with the company that many had recommended as being reliable. However, once the company found out we were American and did not already have a visa, then they were no longer interested in taking us. I felt rather shocked because a visa is nothing more than a really expensive stamp in your passport and did not see the problem. So, the lady that we were working with called the border to find out who was on the upcoming rotation of the border patrol. Apparently, one rotation of police hates Americans and will not allow them to pass and the others do not mind, so it is a little easier to slip in. In the end, the consensus was that if we could delay our trip a couple days, then we could have more amiable patrols and possibly be allowed entry with a fee of $100 each to be paid to the Bolivian government in Uyuni. We were a little taken aback by this proposition but decided that the Salar was so unique that we would attempt it.

The day of departure came, and we arrived at the outfitter at 7:00 am with the cold air of the desert night still upon us. There, we loaded up into a large bus with a multitude of Brazilians and a couple Argentinans and set off for the border. The ride through Chile was pleasant, but then we turned off the nicely paved road headed to Argentina and began the four days of fairly rough off-road terrain towards and on into Bolivia.

The border patrol consisted of two men, a metal bar crossing the road, a decaying adobe shack, and a Bolivian flag lashed to a piece of scrap metal torn from a rusted out bus shell laying nearby, which also played the part of the toilet. On the bright side, clearing immigration was not very difficult because the guards were nice, but we traded in our passports for a white slip of paper that acted as our non-official passport for the next three days. Also at the border, we packed up our gear and loaded everything onto old Toyota Landcruisers. My brother and I were in a car with four Brazilians, while Ian was put in another since we were the only group that was willing to split.

The road set out winding through the mountains at several thousand feet with our guide Robbi. He was young, but did not like to speak even when we spoke Spanish to him. We arrived at our first stop for breakfast, which was situated on a small lake called Laguna Blanca and had nothing more than a few old buildings that were sufficient for the number of backpackers that traverse this route everyday.

Afterwards, we continued on to another lake, Laguna Verde, which was one of the most fantastic settings on earth. The color of the water was between an emerald green and an artic blue and had snow-capped volcanoes rising up around it on all sides. The water was also very salty and created a thick layer of white foam that formed around the edges of the lake like a picture frame. The lake itself lies above 10,000 feet, and it was very cold but the white-caps of the waves only added more the serenity of the place, and I could have stayed there all day in the cold.

The next section of the trip filtered down from the high altiplano to a lower, more desert-like region. The landscape constantly changed with every turn from bright green patches of grass with llamas, vicuñas, and alpacas running wild to desert sands and rocks with no vegetation to beautiful, shallow lakes covered with thousands of flamingos. At the bottom of this section we stopped at a hot spring, which was still very high in the Andes mountains and from there continued past geysers like in Yellowstone to our camp for the first night.

The first night camp was dormitory style, which allowed us to meet the people from the other cars. This camp was also situated on a lake, and we took an afternoon hike out to the other extremity of the lake to get a good view of the flamingos. That night was frigidly cold and a little embarassing because the Brazilians tried to teach us how to dance, but we were not as fast of learners as we had hoped. On the good side, we made everybody laugh and elminated the social awkwardness pretty quickly.

The next morning we set out pretty early for Uyuni, and the drive was nice but it rained the entire way. We also broke down twice, and I watched our driver do a repair job with a butter knife and some scotch tape...our survival kit! We also passed through several depressing looking towns along the way, and the only really nice thing we saw was an airport, which we were told was owned by an American gold mining company.

Upon arriving to Uyuni, we were full of energy and excitement to get out of the car, but then one of the Brazilian girls from our car noticed that she had been robbed of $400 US. When I heard this I though "great, there are only three other people in this car besides the girl and her best friends from home...me, my brother, and the driver." That wouldn't normally be a problem for me except that 1) we were Americans in a country where the government is not fond of America, 2) we don't have a visa yet, so we were illegal, and 4) it was only $US missing not the girl's Bolivian, Chilean or Brazilian money, which automatically made us suspects. Luckily, we just stayed nice and helpful, and the Brazilian didn't treat us like crooks. Amazingly, the girl did get all of her money back the next day with her exchange receipt and all, so I guess it was either the driver or one of the people at the stops along the way.

The hotel was not nice by any means, but was definitely a step up from the place we stayed the first night. Although, I believe I took the coldest shower of my life there. The temperature may even rival that of when I was stupid enough to jump in the Artic Ocean at the North Cape in Norway. Feeling refreshed, we went down and ate a hearty dinner of vegetable soup with french fries mixed in, roasted chicken, and, of coarse, rice. This doesn't sound bad but the next day half of the people on the trip including myself were in more pain than many of us had felt in our lives. I could barely stand up without needing to vomit and could not stand straight because of the unbearable pain in my stomach. However, I refused to stay in the hotel because I wanted to see the Salar, so I hopped in the front seat of the truck and cringed every other milli-second as we crashed from pothole to pothole.

We finally arrived at the Salar, which was disappointing at first because it was cloudy, but the clouds cleared and even in all my pain it was a fantastic experience. The salar itself is enormous. It would be impossible to see the other side if there were not mountains, and we drove to the middle where you lose all sense of perception. Things do not appear in the distance, they just appear smaller. Because of this fantastic sight, even I mustered up the strength to smile and pose in a few bizarre photos. The rest of our time there, I sat a little hunched over staring at the salt, which burned my face and forced myself to keep an antibiotic down. Luckily, I was able to sit in the car and eventually pass out from exhaustion of hot and cold flashes and listen to Bob Marley's Legends album on Chris's ipod. It was definitely a healing process because by the time the album finished we had just arrived back in Uyuni, and I was feeling much better.

Unfortunately, our troubles did not quite end there. When we arrived back in Uyuni, we waited for our passports, but when we received them there was no visa. This also was a problem because we were leaving that night, and it was late on a Friday so I was only hoping that the consulate was still open. Fortunately it was, and the immigration officials were very amiable but thought that $100 was a cheap price to pay to enter Bolivia, I didn't agree, but we got our stamp and headed for the truck to drive through the night for our midway point back to San Pedro.

The next morning we woke up at 4 am and drove the rest of the way to the border in order to meet the bus to return to Chile. By the time we got back to Chile, we were exhasted but unanimously agreed that that trip was the best part of South America so far even with all our setbacks. Now, being back in Chile, we only had to deal with one more setback. We were leaving from San Pedro the same night on a 24 hour bus to Santiago, which left at 7:30, but the time is different in Chile than Bolivia and Ian forgot to reset his watch. So, I ran to the bus and tried to stall it hoping that Ian and Chris were just running late, but there was no sign of them. So, we missed our bus and were forced to take another bus to Calama and find another bus the next morning. On the next day, there were not any seats on the buses leaving early for Santiago, so we skipped it and took a bus to Valparaiso (23 hours) (Val-para-ee-so) where we are now! Valparaiso is fantastic, but our Uyuni trip showed us that even with a ton of setbacks and a little pain as long as we stayed calm and positive everything would work out for the best. Till next time, Cheers!