Day 51 Wednesday 14th November: Less Dramas, Cute Llamas..

Doug writes:-

Last night’s accommodation was the Gran Sucre Hotel, Oruro – actually, it must be said, not very Gran at all. Despite this being a town of some 30,000 people and this being the best hotel available, it was another Fawlty Towers experience in a building which, if smartened up, could pass for a 1920s film set. There appeared to be only two staff, the receptionist / Maitre D / manager,  who sported a blue ski jacket in all areas and a lady of advanced years who is, we assume, his mum.

However, the staff were good enough to direct us to a nearby restaurant where we enjoyed several beers, Bolivian (“blow yer heid aff”) Cab Sav red wine plus steaks and chicken done in the “Hard Rock” style which means served with copious quantities of chips, a side order of rice and mucho melted cheese. All that for £15 a head plus you get to watch the American wrestling on several TV screens.

This morning saw the lowly team mechanics (Chris and I) despatched to get our latest flat tyre repaired. The drill here in South America is to find the part of town which specialises in such services then pull up alongside whichever tiny one-man Kwik-Fit emporium takes your fancy. Our luck was in, our chosen fitter proved to be a man of endless energy, skill and resource. In no time, Umberto had stripped our large and heavy off-road tyre from its rim using hand tools only and pointed out that the leak was due to the failure of an earlier poorly-executed repair. So – not our fault after all..

An hour later Umberto had changed the flat for our brand-new spare, swapped wheels around, plugged and patched the previous flat. Total bill approx £15. Chris wants to take Umberto home, or at least to Ushuaia. Given our record with tyres this might be a smart move.

Back to the hotel we got a ticking off from the local constabulary for parking our Leviathan half on the pavement (nowhere else, Sir, sorry) so loaded up and departed town smartly, relieved to escape without a La Paz-style traffic nightmare. Half an hour out of town we realised we were now facing a 300km drive through desert with half a tank of fuel, good for perhaps 200km. Fortunately a lonely service station hove into view before we were once again running on fumes. At Bolivian petrol stations Bolivian-registered vehicles can fill up for about 34p a litre. Anybody else pays three times that.

Passing the delightfully-named Lake Poopo we found ourselves once again in a deserted landscape of Altiplano – our whole day has been at 12,500 ft plus –  punctuated by little except small groups of huts and lots of barriers and toll booths, which are set out as follows:- One to take your payment, usually about 75p, another with a policeman or soldier to make sure you have paid your toll; some miles later one to stamp your receipt and usually at least one or two more to check your receipt has been stamped. Then we start again with a new toll. At each stop, small children and ladies in bowler hats storm your window hoping to sell anything from water to juices to more hats. Otherwise there are few people around, one exception being more ladies in bowler hats driving herds of cattle, sheep or Llamas around the arid landscape presumably looking for grazing. A tough life.

An interesting diversion was the occasional small twister or “dust-devil” rising from the desert.

At the hamlet of Huari we dived into the only cafe for a coffee. Nobody around so into the pungent inner sanctum we went, where another bowler-hat lady told us, “no coffee, sod off..” or words to that effect. So we did. This is symptomatic of one of the saddest aspects of Bolivia. Visitors can see a hundred commercial opportunities wasted every day. The economy is very much subsistence; most businesses are one-man or one-woman  enterprises, so poorly run that they can’t grow. The people are in general very pleasant but they seem to have low expectations and, as Mike so aptly puts it, fail to live up to them.

Onwards through the Altiplano, some team members remaining more alert than others

Fortunately we were warned of the dangers of animals on the road

Rounding one corner we came across a small lake, or more accurately, an oasis. We screeched to a halt to grab photo of flamingos, Vicunas and Llamas – the desert in bloom indeed.

Finally, our first glimpse of the great Uyuni salt flats – strange reflected images which look like floating islands – but no doubt more of that tomorrow.

About 3 pm we rolled into Uyuni (pop. 10,000, twinned with Lowestoft South Beach), filled up our trusty steed again and sought out tonight’s lodgings. This is a nice little hotel on a dusty street in a pretty dusty town.

A quick stroll revealed a night market soon to open, at which Chris hopes to replace the underpants which failed to return from the last batch of laundry. We also have plans to visit what is reputed to be the best Pizza house in Bolivia. Hmm.

A great bonus this evening was the local kids having a parade right outside our hotel, complete with a mobile version of the Tijuana Brass Band to accompany them!

 

Tomorrow it’s a guided tour of the salt flats. Would you like chips with your salt sir?