We were up with the sunrise the next morning, with a long drive ahead of us and lots of sights to pack in. Breakfast in South America has mostly been a disappointing affair, and this morning it consisted of rock-hard bread leftover from dinner along with spread, which I then dipped into my tea in order to preserve my dental integrity. The cars were packed again, and we were on our way to “see where the llamas sleep”. There were many llamas. We spent the morning driving through an array of landscapes, from weird swamps in an area otherwise totally devoid of hydration, to strange lakes where according to Helmut, they fish up soap. Me and ½ of the American couple, who happened to be a fellow scientist, couldn’t figure this one out (wtf is this mysterious lake substance? Lye? Some kind of sulphonate? Magic?). We drove onwards, to places where no signs of vegetation could be seen, where strange somewhat surreal volcanic rock piles earned the barren landscape the name “Desierto Dali”.
Good morning, llamas!
Aww ok I guess these two can stay sleeping, because they are so damn cute
Mmm... dessert. Oops wrong one.
Walk like a... Jeremy?
An early lunch break was called for by Modesta, who had obviously gotten up much earlier than we had that morning, cooking up a delicious pasta along with plenty of vegetables. Ironically, the place we chose to stop was by the shore of Laguna Verde, a lake so full of arsenic that nothing can live within it. Delicious. It was here that I realised how sad it was that my Spanish was so shit, as Modesta seemed like a really fun lady, always cracking jokes that we couldn’t understand. At one point, I accidentally smashed the glass I was using on a rock, and I’m 99% sure that she suggested I did it on purpose so I could stab Jeremy. She had swapped over to the other car for the day, and Jeremy had taken her spot in the front seat (and from then on, was called “Modesta” by Helmut).
Nice sunglasses, Jeremy
Lunch time!
After lunch, most of us had a nice soak in a less toxic body of water while Jeremy’s paranoia of the sun led to him hiding in the car like the night-creature he is. Miraculously, there were some hot springs that did not stink like the ones in Rotorua, but after about 15 minutes or so, we all started burning and thus joined Jeremy in cowering in the car (David Attenborough estimates that people last for 2 minutes out here without sun protection). Our next stop was at some geysers, where Bolivian safety standards came to shine, as tourists were allowed to get however close they deemed sensible to the boiling plumes of steam. In our case: pretty close but not close enough to turn into human dumplings.
Aww what a nice romantic shot in front of a really scummy hot pond (note: this is not the one I took a dip it, it was just next to it)
I am weirdly intrigued by weird pond scum (THIS IS WHERE LIFE ON EARTH BEGAN!)
Things got a bit steamy
A couple of hours more driving brought us to one of the main things I wanted to see in Bolivia: the famous Laguna Colorada, home to the motherload of flamingoes. So. Many. Flamingoes. I was in flamingo heaven. Unfortunately, the overcast conditions meant that the lake didn’t look bright red as it often does, but I guess this was a good thing, as the water contrasted more with the flamingoes. Apparently, we weren’t even there during a good flamingo season, as the lake was a bit drought-ey and a number of the flamingoes had migrated away as a result. However, there was definitely enough flamingo activity to satisfy me!
So many!
I kind of want one as a pet. I also kind of don't want to move to the Bolivian altiplano to provide it with a decent habitat
Honestly, these guys are the coolest
Fly, my pretties!
Yay here come even more of them!
From there on, we drove for several more hours in order to reach our accommodation for the night, once again in a small altiplano village, while Modesta plied us with snacks and candy. Dinner was a tasty soup again, along with a gringo-fied (sans chilli) version of the traditional Bolivian dish “pique a lo macho”, which is pretty much every fast-food fiend’s dream: chunky fries topped with a mixture of different meats, sausages, fried onions, tomatoes, egg, all soaked in gravy and drenched in mayonnaise and mustard. Modesta also somehow managed to produce a delicious eggy banana custard thing for dessert, despite the fact that she only had a tiny flimsy gas stove to cook with. We were puzzled by the absence of the Spanish-German couple in the other car from this delicious dinner. It transpired that the ½ that was feeling not so great the night before had taken a turn for the worse, and had ended up at the local “hospital” where the confused doctor jabbed him with anti-everything, hoping that one of the shots would do the trick. And one of them did. Hooray for modern, sometimes puzzled but never afraid to problem-solve, medicine!
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