The most commonly asked question of us is “Where are you from?”, followed closely by “Aren’t you all so upset about what happened to Michael Jackson?” Everyone we’ve met is obsessed with Michael Jackson; everywhere we go, we hear his music blaring from car stereos or from tvs in restaurants. Even on our train ride to Uyuni, the first video that was played was an hour and a half long tribute to the ‘King of Pop’…which we thoroughly enjoyed.
We arrived in Uyuni on Friday at 11 p.m.; the entire town was dead, reminding us of a ghost town from an old western movie. Tired as we were, we were happy for the quiet and headed to our small, cold hotel to tuck in for the night. The next morning, we headed to the town center to have some delicious breakfast and then waited outside the travel agency for our tour guide to take us to the salt plains. Half an hour after we were told to meet (right on time for Bolivians), our tour guide pulled up in a jeep whose engine barely started and told us to hop in. We were joined by an Israeli couple who turned out to be very fun travel companions. Soon enough, our driver was flying down the dirt road on the way to the salt flats giving us more of a roller coaster ride than a tour. Unknown to us, included in our trip fee was a near death experience. Our driver came within an inch of slamming into a car that was stopped in the middle of the road! As we all screamed and our lives flashed before our eyes, the driver narrowly avoided the car and then continued racing down the road…clearly he had learned his lesson. Our first stop on the tour was the small town where they process all of the salt; there was also an open market where they were selling goods made out of salt. We were allowed 10 minutes to wander around before we had to re-enter the death vehicle. We headed out into the salt plains where we took beautiful, and some ridiculous, pictures. The salt looked like snow, only it was hard and not as fun to play with. Henry and Paige refused to have a “salt ball fight” with Rachel, so Rachel settled for building a ‘salt man’.
Our next destination, the salt museum, was closed, which is unfortunate because it is a building that is made entirely of salt. It used to be a hotel, but was converted to a museum to make more money off of tourists. After getting over our disappointment, we headed over to Fish Island, the final stop of the tour. Fish Island is not surrounded by water; rather it is a gigantic rock (that looks like a fish from far away) in the middle of the salt plains. We bought tickets to enter the island, and hiked up the trail to capture beautiful photos of the giant cactuses all over the island as well as the breathtaking view of the salt plains. When we returned from our hike, our tour guides had a picnic lunch set up for us on a table made of salt; we had llama meat and cheese as well as a variety of other delicious foods. After lunch, Henry and Paige each wandered off into the vast expanse of the salt plains to enjoy the view and the quiet; meanwhile, Rachel treated the salt plains more like a salt beach and laid down to catch some rays.
In the late afternoon, our guides drove us all back to Uyuni to enjoy the excitement of the town. (I use the term ‘excitement’ lightly as there is not much to do in Uyuni). Despite the lack of entertainment offered by Uyuni, we all found a way to pass the time, wandering up and down the streets, checking out every little shop along the way. When it came time for dinner, it was an extremely difficult decision considering that there were 7 pizzerias all with the same menus. We finally settled on one and sat down to order when our Israeli friends wandered into the same restaurant and joined us for dinner. The food was delicious, but what made the dining experience even more special was the mix of music videos playing throughout the meal, including some appearances from the beloved Michael Jackson. After dinner, we killed time in our hotel room until we caught our midnight train, reminiscent of that famous Journey song. Of course our train was not going just anywhere, it was headed back to Oruro where we caught a bus back to Cochabamba. The trip home was uneventful and much less smelly than our last bus trip, though Rachel did argue with a taxi driver over fare to the bus station…walking away and ignoring him until he agreed to her desired price. We made it home safely to the warmth of Cochabamba in time to go back to the stadium to visit the regular Sunday puppy market. Tomorrow, we return to work for our last 3 days in the hospital.
Superlatives:
Most likely to die in a fiery Jeep crash: All of us
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