open and vast

i just spent the last 3 days in southern bolivia on what felt like an acid trip. i travelled over night on a 12 hour bus ride on awful roads to a little town uyuni. uyuni has nothing going for it, except that it is right next to the worlds largest salt flats and thus brings in loads of tourists. escaping away from a clang of korean tourists that i could not understand, i found a tour for 3 days to explore the salt flats. for two nights and three days i was driven around in a 4wd with 3 english peeps and 2 australians by a bolivian names Andres and our cook Isabella. although all the picture of this place feel like you are all alone, there were probably like 50 other cars loaded with tourists that followed the excat same route.

i really feel like i am on the tourist track, with loads of europeans australians koreans and really really loud argentianians. argentianians are really starting to annoy me with their loud songs they sing in buses and their mate that they constantly drink.

i felt like i was on the edge of the world in this place. we drove for miles and miles over salt and then would come to a random island with cacti growing on it. Flamengos right next to llamas, a cave with wierd cob web looking things in it, geysers bubbling with hot earth, active volcanos, miles of flat dirt land where the edge was impossible to see, red lakes, hot springs, llama legs with their fur still on them, a hostel made of salt, burning hot sun one day, and thunderstorms with hail the other,and the most magnificent sunsets i could have imagined that looked right out of a painting. this place was neither ugly nor beautiful. it was just bizzare. so strange. and meanwhile i was shooting the shit over meals with lots of fantastic tourists all just as confused as i was.

we made our cook cry on our tour to the salt flats. our tour guides were super unfriendly and did not communicate well with us the time we had to wake up in the morning for breakfast. so, not with our intention, we woke up 45 minutes late for breakfast. isabella, the cook, was super bitching and blamed us and would refuse to make us eggs becuase we showed up late. the exchange between us was not good at all. i demanded that they make us some sort of breakfast (at least bring out the jam and butter for bread or something). eventually we got her to angriling make us eggs (she probably spat in them). we she came out with the frying pan full of eggs and threw them on the table we thanked her. then she just started crying. a 45 something year old women started crying becuase she had to make us eggs a little later than everyone else. we thought she was either metapausing, really stressed out about something, or just a typically rude bolivian. bolivians are definetly not the nicest of people and dont seem to understand the concept of good service. they are not good at multitasking and so if you walk into a store wanting a coke or something adn the women is playing with her hair, she will refuse to serve you the coke.

making a hostel room out of salt in theory is a really good idea, but in practice is really fucking dumb. salt sucks all the moisture out of the air, so we all woke up with the worst chapped lips and dry mouth ever. i havent been feeling well since then. Becky, this british girl, gave me her cap stick becuase i really really liked it. she said it is really cheap and not that good of a brand from england, so i could have it. i am so happy with my new chapstick.

i am getting to talk to lots of great tourists from all over the world. i am sitting next to a guy from dutch (his name is geert or something and i cant ever really say it right) and this other guy from switzerland (dario) who just took off his shirt in the internet cafe and gave it to me because i was cold. everyone is so friendly and generous. there are a few duds, like this one girl from holland who complains about everything. thank god we ditched her in the hassle of finding a hostel in potosi.

so now i am in potosi potosi potosiiii! it is the highest city in the world. i plan to go tomorrow on a mine tour and see dynamite being exploded and underpaid and dangerous child labor. it should be interesting.

i swear, i have asked every papeleria (like office depote but on a much smaller and south american level) for a journal with out any lines on it. bolivia has no journals or binders that just have plain blank paper. maybe no one here can write straight so they all have lines or grids. who knows...so my search continues.

one of my favorite past times in comparing english phrases with australians and brits. i learned that "are you pissing yourself" means "are you kidding me" and "i am shitting myself" means "i am angry". so you could say, "stop pissing me, i am going to shit myself" and that would mean that you dont want the person to joke around with you anymore cause you will get angry.

thats all for now!