After many blog posts describing all the happy times and phenomenal places we have experienced, I think it’s time one of our posts reflects on some of the hard parts or our trip. And what better country to describe the hardships than good old Bolivia.
Bolivia is the definition of gritty. It is the highest altitude country on earth, has been decimated by countless dictators and has never been financially stable because of its landlocked geography. This has resulted in a financially unstable country full of very desperate people; Bolivia remains economically unstable. Its towns and cities all have a tinge of desperation in the air. This made me consider what the saying “when the going gets tough, the tough get going” really means. Our family likes to think that we are pretty tough. And we are, for the most part. Bolivia broke us down. We all snapped at some point, sometimes it was because of the disgusting food, the lack of oxygen, or even just the lack of everything. But as we progressed, it became apparent that we were getting tougher. Our bodies acclimatized, we became used to the food, and we accepted what Bolivia is.
Our Bolivian expedition began in Copacabana, where we heard the endless chorus of a certain song (take a wild guess) from my mom. In Copacabana, we witnessed one of the strangest ceremonies of the trip. The ceremony begins with normal people DECKING out their cars with garland, trinkets to symbolize what they want (big houses, stacks of money, Bugattis) and tons of flowers. The next step involves a priest, (who you pay, of course) splashing “holy” water onto you and your car. He then blesses you and now your car is blessed and will be safe on the road. Oh, and don’t forget the fireworks that they fire in the populated square (no safety at all).
Copacabana is right on the coast of the famous lake Titicaca. Lake Titicaca, and yes there were snickers at the name (to our parents disapproval), is the largest lake in South America and the largest high altitude lake in the world. The best part about it was that people live on grass islands right in the middle of it. These islands are maybe the size of an average house and hold around 20 people on it. The island is around 3 feet thick and is made entirely from grass. So are the houses, the boats and even the toys for their children. The island is made is by foot by foot of woven grass, making it so that whenever you walk, it feels like you are walking along on a water-tight pond (if that makes any sense).
Our next step was the infamous La Paz. La Paz is the kind of city that makes tough travelers pee their pants. It is a virtual maze of tight streets, towering brick houses and hoodoos (huge frozen mud mountains liable to collapse during hard rain). While making the harrowing drive through La Paz, we collectively counted a grand total of two traffic lights.
La Paz was awesome. We traveled via brand new gondolas that gave you an awesome tour of the city. We tasted our way around, eating doughnuts, empanadas, burgers and ice cream. We even got to pose for some photos because… well, we were the first white kids these people had seen! Our tours lead us to basketball courts overlooking the city, crazy tight markets and, of course, the renowned San Pedro prison.
The prison is literally run by the inmates and works like a little town. If you’re rich, your family lives with you, you get nice “property” (sold by the self appointed prison realtor) and you get easy access to a bevy of drugs. But if you’re poor, this place is horrible. You sleep on the prison “streets,” sell Coca Cola (who made a deal to be the only drink sold in the prison), and, depending on the prison rating of your crime, you might get picked up by a lynch mob and stabbed or drowned in the pool, or both. Prison guards? Only on the outside walls to ensure entrance security. The prisoners run the place, making it a scary place to live.
After a very close call with our camper almost completely tipping on its side, we headed to meet up with some old and new overland friends in Sucre. Sucre was a beautiful city . It felt centuries old but was very well kept and preserved. In Sucre we saw some architecture, visited a dinosaur archeological site and planned for the next week with our friends to organize the next leg of our trip. This turned out to be quite an adventure.
It started with a night in Uyuni, a dumpy, western feeling town that literally chilled the deepest depths of your body. We slept at an old train cemetery that was surprisingly free to camp at, and pretty awesome. You might be asking “Why on earth would you choose to stay there!?” Well, it’s because of what lies a couple miles away. The Uyuni salt flats. You might recognize these flats from the famous illusion pictures you can take there, you know, the ones of a guy eating a tiny person, or someone getting chased by a huge toy T-Rex. The salt flats are a vast, barren plain of pure… well, salt! They stretch for hundreds of kilometers and are great for amateur drivers (hint hint). Yes, my brothers and I drove. Jonah and I by ourselves, and Elias steering on my dad’s lap (we feared for our life during those five minutes of excruciating fear). I proved to be a good enough driver that I was allowed to drive us to our next destination, averaging 65 km per hour, much to the dismay of my mom. The salt flats were a huge success and a major highlight on the trip. As much as we wanted to stay longer, we had places to be. That place being the Lagunas Ruta.
My brothers and I fondly remember the Lagunas Ruta as “the times of terror,” a name made up by Elias that was quite fitting from our perspective. Let me explain. The Lagunas Ruta is about 500 kilometers of off-roading. Meaning our humongous rig had to grind over hills of gravel, mountains of shale and seas of uneven rocks and sand. All this at 14,000 feet of altitude. Yeah.
The days were spent driving with two thick layers of dust coating our truck and our skin, making for a very dirty camper. The nights were spent being jostled and jerked around by the gale-force winds and being chilled by the freezing cold that never fails to penetrate the flimsy walls of our camper. To be fair, the views were beautiful. Huge red mountains and red or green lakes dominated our fields of view; flamingos and viscachas made their presences known, and the most beautiful view of all… the end of the Lagunas Ruta.
Bolivia was tough. The food was difficult for me, the streets were horrible, the altitudes were soaring, and the places were dusty. But we learnt a lot. Our family was able to preserve through it all. We found our rhythms and got the job done. But, it was a bumpy journey. The people of Bolivia, though, were awesome. They always welcomed you warmly, tried to have a discussion with you (even though they knew zero English) and gave you a feeling of overall friendliness.
Bolivia is where we realized the true meaning of perseverance. Our mantra? “When the going gets tough, the tough get going”
Nathaniel Fast
You guys are the very definition of tough! So proud of you and thankful you‘ve been kept safe this whole time. 2 questions: why do the people on Lake Titicaca choose to live on those islands?! Is there no where else to go? And second, do you know how the prison got to the point of being run by the prisoners? Sounds terrifying!