Bogota and a Brief Trip to Reality

A lot has happened in the week or so since we last spoke.  We left off in Cali, where I found myself rolling solo in a city with not much catching my fancy.  I made an 11th hour decision to wake up early the next day and head to a small town in the countryside that supposedly held the honor of having one of the best views in Colombia.  It proved to be a good decision and as luck would have it, the town was comfortably jammed with vacationing Colombians celebrating their Labor Day holiday weekend.  I joined the holiday spirit with a fun English couple, Stephen & Creed, who were similarly toasting the day in the in the town center.  They were just wrapping up the 17th month of an 18th month global trip and showed no signs of fatigue.  They had been practically everywhere and still the itch for more travel, with the next planned expedition being a road trip across the States.  I spent the greater part of an hour touting the draws of a Mid-Western route and the glorious mecca the Lake of the Ozarks.  The festivities lasted well into the next morning and ended with us leaving half of the town still partying.

 

Through the fog of the repercussions of the previous night, I spent the next 10 hours getting myself to Bogota via buses.  Once arriving in Bogota, I re-united with the Irish girls that were befriended 5 countries back and spent the next 2 days doing some city exploration.  Knowing that I would be back within the month I was a little unconcerned with a full tour and instead prepared myself for the flight back to the States.  It was more of a mental preparing for my exit from the culture of traveling that I had found myself in the last few months and emergence into the my counter-culture position as a jobless drifter back in the States.  Here comes a round of justifications that I don't think I have the energy to pitch...

My five city tour started in Chicago, where I spent my first 2 days back carousing with old friends and falling back in love with White Castle.  Next stop was a brief one to St. Louis, where the revelry was just as intense with the celebration of the Tiehen's dog Carlos' first birthday... 

Currently de-toxing in KC with my family and enjoying every minute of it.  The plan is head down to the Lake for a few days and then prepare for the next two weeks of weddings.  

I still need to talk to you about the future plans and maybe a quick first leg recap---maybe later this week....

On track to gain 10 pounds in 2 weeks,

BQ

Lake Titicaca....what???

So my plane to the jungle was delayed again and the time felt right to jump north so I cancelled it entirely booked outta La Paz with some others to make a brief two day stop at Lake Titicaca. In total, for 6 days, 5 nights at the hostel my bill for accommodation, multiple meals, and a nasty bar tab came to $70 USD. Ridiculous. -Have frequent flyer miles and a C-note burning a hole in your pocket?--why dont you head to La Paz for a week long gettaway? Just make sure you can handle being lied to a time or two.

Lake Titicacawas pretty but nothing to write home about (or in a blog for that matter--I provided the Wikipedia link above for those of you who are detail hounds). The overland crossing into Peru was pretty painless and I now find myself in Puno, Peru waiting for another round of 24 consecutive hours of busing to meet up with Petro in Lima just in time to blackout and lose all my belongings on St. Paddys Day.

As for now, I am in desperate need of a shave and shower, so I am heading over to the main plaza's fountain to get it done.

Shaving off what´s left of La Paz,

Q

A Pleasant Ride Down the Death Road

It started high in the snowy Andes mountains at 14,000 ft. with the ceremonial sprinkling of grain alcohol on your bike and into your mouth and ended 10,000 ft lower in the dense, humid forrest jungle of the Yungas Valley. The route between is considered the world's most dangerous road or "the death road" because of the hundreds of unlucky motorists who have made the sometimes 1,800 ft plunge to the bottom. Since the recent completion of a less dangerous road linking the two areas, the traffic on the death road has descreased but the 10 year old activity of mountain biking down the road has remained.

Not wanting to cut corners on what could potentially be a trip ending experience, myself and some travel mates went with the reputable but pricey company Gravity Assisted Biking, which was showcased not long ago by ABC´s Nightline (http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=413924). Coincidentally, our ride down was partially filmed by another cameraman gathering material for ABC's broadcast of the story in New Zealand. With my cinematic chemistry it is safe to say I will have some serious fans on the otherside of the world as soon as that airs.

Half expecting the ride to fall into the category of an over-hyped adventure travel activity, I was excited to find out the experience lived up to the reputation and a little more. With guardrails practically non-existent, the steeped road is unforgiving for the reckless and second chances for even the cautious are not a guarantee. Scared sh·tless is probably how I would describe myself the first 15 minutes when the guide's repetitive safety talk was reinforced with a quick introductory ride around a couple precipiced corners in very dense fog. This sort of riding continued for the next couple hours and the succession of scenery was amazing. However, I was only half-observing this phenomenon as I was concentrating on the road with freakish focus. I don´t think I have had that type of mental focus since I played an intense game of paper, rock, scissors in college that decided who had to drive a boozy crew all the way to Chicago (I won).

After riding through the freezing snow, we spent a good deal of time in the misty fog that blanketing the valley. Towards the end of the ride the fog lifted and the true perception of what we riding around in was realized. It was stunning, thrilling, and scary. Our guides were good and we had no show-offs amoung us, which resulted in no serious problems and only the ego injury of a girl who flipped over her handlebars, amazingly unhurt. The real amazement came from the notion that these type of activities are allowed to the masses--gotta love third-world tourism.

Today, I sit in anticipation of the full cancellation of my already delayed flight to the Bolivian Amazon area of Rurrenbaque. I have a spot reserved on a 12 seater that is supposed to provide spectacular views of the Andes. I watched clips of the movie ALIVE today on YouTube to prepare myself for any possible dietary changes this trip could produce.

I'm delayed til later but the lady at the tour agency told me that I "will for sure be going today." I have as much faith in her statement as I do with the several dozen other half-truths I have heard since being in Bolivia. I´ll give it until tomorrow afternoon until I´ll give up and head up north.

Don´t lie me,

Brian

La Paz

Greetings from the highest capital city on Earth--La Paz (out of breath just typing that). I now find myself here after spending 2 nights in quite possibly Bolivia´s prettiest city, Sucre. It is just wrapping up the rainy season here and many roads are in bad or unpassable condition, limiting my destinations. My current predicament involves trying to book a flight on a Bolivian military transport plane to get into the much sought after Rurrenbaque jungle area. Reports of travel by bus there is that the 18 hour trip can take 3 days and has induced delirium in those unlucky enough to attempt it. The alternative--flying in, is not much better with supposedly a 80% cancellation rate on the commercial service and a slightly better percentage with the military transport. Gonna shoot for a Wednesday departure if possible. If not, we´ll see where to...

Since my Salar trip I have been travelling with an Aussie named Tom and a Londoner named Ollie. Hooligans and BS-ers in the highest degree--I don´t think there has been a serious topic of conversation since meeting in Sucre. Unfortunately, my comprehension of Ollie´s version of the King´s English is about at the same level as my Spanish language comprehension so I usually have to have Tom translate the English. Many other backpackers have been questioning how such an odd trio began to travel together. They're certainly no Petro, but are gonna have to do in his absence.

La Paz has been a little interesting to say the least...the hostel we found ourselves at is unlike any I´ve stayed at so far..a huge renovated mansion packed with dorms and an almost round the clock bar filled with people who haven´t seen a 9 to 5 in quite some time. I keep waiting for some parental figure to walk in and scold everyone. For some amongst those flocking there, La Paz is a city of unbridled debauchery--reports of nightclubs with mounds of cocaine littering the tables and falling from strung up pinatas are routine. From the sounds of it, it appears somebody packed up Studio 54 and relocated it to a more welcoming city. The participation of some backpackers in this sort of lifestyle here is quite contradictory to their daytime "save the earth with this cause" rhetoric as you can't possibly do more harm to your visiting country than to promote their community poisoning drug trade. But, for the most part, they are in the minority and for more rational minded visitors, La Paz still provides ample opportunity for more responsible extremes.

Don´t ask the "hows & whys" of this story but last night Tom, Ollie, and I found ourselves in a warehouse-turned-gymnasium in the outskirts of La Paz after hearing promises of being able to witness sanctioned womens fighting and wrestling. It is against my ethics to pay to watch women fight as I very well can just watch it on YouTube for free but this experience seemed like something not to pass up. A little disappointingly, much of the fighting was a little WWF-esque but regardless the show proved bizzare in many ways. First, during a break in the bouts, the announcer pointed to a man in the crowd who was rumored to have flashed a knife at one of the wrestlers--he was thrown out to the boos of the crowd. I do not doubt this really happened as during the bouts the crowd often threw various objects at the wrestlers. Also, in every bout the "bad guy" won the match which may have some interesting learning repercussions on the masses of children present at this "family style" event that included wrestlers routinely giving the middle figure to the crowd. I snapped this short movie of the main event--yes, that is a midget you see.

I have an exciting few days coming up. Today, if the weather improves a group of us is going to try and play at the "highest golf course in the world." Not much of a golfer myself, I only pursue this experience to have a leg up on my Uncle Joe. On Tuesday, I am taking a mountain bike down "world´s most dangerous road," which should be a real treat.

Well, that enough superlatives for one blog. I´ll check in with you soon.

Brakes are for sissies,

Q

A Monkey in the Salar

On Another Planet

Hey Kids,
Bolivia has me now whether they like it or not.
Before departing on the tour into Bolivia, I did a little exploring around San Pedro in Chile. I rented a bike and made the journey to the nearby Valle de la Luna, which is a national park that holds a landscape much like the moon (so they say, I will hopefully confirm or deny this later in life). Sand dunes and strange rock formations inhabit the area and during much of my trek around the park I did not encounter many other visitors, making the experience a little more eerie. Other than this magical little excursion I was eager to get out of expensive Chile and onward into the cheap thrills of Bolivia. On Sunday morning, our group consisting 13 people of a smorgasboard of nationalities descended with our guides towards the Chilean/Bolivian border. As the lone American and anticipating some ribbing because of this fact, I brushed up little on my pro-US rhetoric--"Ok, yes we are reponsible for that but guess where those delicious HALLS cough drops you are popping are made?!"
After the comical immigration procedure at a two room shack in the mountains (they stamped my passport again in addition to the consulate taking up 9 spots on it--all but ensuring that at some point this year I will have to go to the U.S Embassy somewhere and have more pages put in. Bolivia 2, me 0), our group divided up into two LandCruisers and began the rapid ascent into the high altitudes of Bolivia. During the first day we went from approximately 5,000 ft. to roughly 15,000 ft, which produced slight headaches for some and head-exploding puking for others. Luckily, I only felt the former. At one stop, when emerging from the car it felt like an instant intoxication and people began to slightly stagger and mix words. To mitigate these symptoms, the guides duly passed out coca leaves for chewing and drinking in tea. Daniel, a Czech riding in my car, was feeling poorly because of the altitude and unknown to us, had been consuming a serious amount of the leaves. Only after I had a conversation with him that included his ramblings on the topics of Czech beer and life under the Soviet regime followed by non-sensical babble, did I and the rest of our car realize that he was pretty zonked out. It didn´t help his pysche that we all began laughing at him hysterically including the guide. He went to sleep for 16 hours not long after that.
Our first night´s lodging was located near one of the many surreally colored lagoons in the Bolivian highlands. The herds of pink flamingos present in these lagoons make it all the more un-earthly looking. Day two started with our guide Jorge making the sign of the cross before we departed in the car, which caused the slightly panicky Dutch girl to exclaim that we were probably going to die today. As I have not fulfilled all that I have been sent to do, I knew this was not the case- but it made me think all the same. Night two was spent on the edge of the famous Salar de Uyuni in a hostal made almost entirely out of salt--furniture and flooring included. "Can you scoop me up some salt for these fries please."
The next day was the highlight of the tour with our entry into the vast salt flats of the Salar de Uyuni. Supposedly one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World, the Salar will remain somewhat of a wonder to me as our guide Jorge was an expert in the ways of driving, cooking, and mechanics, but lacked signigicantly in area of explaining things. Regardless, Jorge allowed me to view part of the Salar while riding on the top of the LandCruiser, which was amazing until he forgot I was up there and proceeded to try and top the land speed record for the flats. Supposedly the panicky Dutch girl informed him that the American was on the roof of the car, but that only caused the other Europeans in the car to urge him to go faster and maybe hit the brakes once or twice. I survived with one awesome experience and a nasty windburn for a souvenir.
Overall the tour was pretty impressive and some of the pictures should convey why.
And so now begins my immersion into Bolivian life. A recent email sent from a traveller we met in B.A. who had just finished living in Bolivia for over a year gave this advice: "overall, bolivians are great people although huge liars. Dont believe a word they say." And so with this information I now find myself in Bolivia. I took a nightmarish bus ride from Uyuni to Sucre and now I am typing this out in a sleep deprived state waiting for the hostal to open up. Nothing is set in stone but a trip to La Paz and later to the Bolivian Amazon is probably likely. We´ll see what happens.

Lie to me,
Q

Some people have been indicated they would appreciate a little shout out so here it is: Big T Reardon recently received stitches above his eye for reasons probably associated with hitting on a girl--persistance beats resistance Timmy! Jen Tiehen recently found out she is going to be an Auntie--congrats Jenny, Rusty Grizzle sounds like a good name doesn´t it? And Elizabeth Tornabene has made some serious contributions to this trip in the research department-- thanks Elizabeth, how do I find the supermarket in Sucre?

The Persecuted American

An oxymoron you say? Well, maybe but I´m sure feeling a little put off by senseless bureaucracy lately. I'll explain the last few days. After hearing a few whispered rumors during our trip about some new visa requirements for Bolivia solely for U.S. citizens, we thought, "hey, maybe we should check into this before we find ourselves at some no-mans land border." And so, while still in Santiago we visited the Bolivian consulate. The news was no good--yellow fever vaccination, proof of monetary funds, fotos with specific requirements, detailed intineriary with hotel reservations, and the kicker-a $100 fee. Now, I don't know about you but I don't fancy myself the type of person to cough up $100 just to visit a third world country. Apparently these newly imposed requirements (12/1/07) were an act of policitical grandstanding by the non-U.S. allied president of Bolivia, Evo Morales, in an attempt at reciprocity for what the U.S. requires of Bolivians for visas. Fair?-probably, but the policy is economically foolish as the only Americans seeking entry into the country are the financially strapped backpacker-types who have little time or resources for pushing through red-tape. This sort of tit for tat politics is unfortunately only going to hurt the workers in Bolivia who rely on the income the American tourists bring, who will spend their money is other more inviting S.A. countries. After confirming this bad news at the consulate in Santiago we grudgingly proceeded with trying to fulfill these ridiculous requirements. Wanted to get out of Santiago, we figured we could have our last chance at a visa at the northern consulate in Calama, Chile. Begin the longest bus ride I have ever been on. 22 hours sitting in the cheap seats, which was highlighted by our proximity to the bus' toilet. After that experience I feel like I could camp out in a Johnny On the Spot for a day our two without having an aversion to the smell. Officially as a homeless man, this is not out of the realm of possibility.
In Calama, we again dealt with the typical run-around, which included requirements that were actually different than what was stated at the Santiago consulate. Other than a phony intinerary we did not have a reservation in Bolivia or with a tour company to get into the country. They demanded this--and were kind of enough to go ahead a call a tour company of their choosing....
After a brief pow-wow Petro indicated that he'd had enough of the BS and preferred his time spent in a country that wanted him and I don't blame him. So he split for the northen Chile beach town of Arica in Chile before his entry into Peru and I remained to tap dance for the Bolivian consulate. Eventually, I "agreed" to book their tour which did not require a formal reservation or any money and my visa was granted. Having no intention of going with that company, I took the bus to the desert oasis of San Pedro de Atacama for a two night stay before my tour into Bolivia with another company departs Sunday morning. Its a three day jaunt through the Salar de Uyuni, which is supposed to be incredible. The logistics of the expedition are basic lodging, a cramped Land Rover, and some amazing scenery. As luck would have it, the one ATM in San Pedro won't accept my card so I felt a little up shitcreek yesterday until the tour operator, the shiester Lionel, told me he would "loan" me the money for the tour until we arrived in Uyuni--can't wait to see the interest is on his generosity. To compound money problems, this desert town is expensive. I lucked out last night and found an art gallery exhibition with some free food--all I had to do was to do the perfunctory staring at paintings with an occasional head nod of approval.
And so the plan is to see Bolivia for 10-14 days, get sick with Malaria, and then depart for Peru to meet back up with ol' Petro and eventually my parents!
Also, you may of noticed the new addition to the blog--Google Ads. Yes, I sold my soul to Father Money in the hopes that any revenue from the ads may pay for an empanada or two. I'm also sick of you free-loaders as well.

Rolling solo,
BQ