Argie Bargie!

We have just crossed the border from Bolivia to Argentina and all three of us noticed the almost imperceptible difference.

On the face of it, Villazon and La Quaica are the same: hot dusty streets and similar looking buildings but you notice that the streets of La Quaica are just a little bit cleaner and have a little less rubbish; there are no stalls selling knock-off goods; cars are newer, better and there's more of them.

We had a while to wait for our next bus so we headed first to a cyber-cafe which had internet faster than dial-up (remember those days?). With all high-priority FaceBook checking done our next stop was our first real cafe... with real (soft) bread and tasty cheese... real coffee... real croissant! And really bloody expensive compared to Bolivia. After several hours we left for the bus where we found another difference: we'd realized in Bolivia we could haggle for EVERYTHING including busses but no-go here.

We'd had a bit of forewarning about the random stops by customs and border patrols and sure enough, just fifteen minutes after setting off we were all ordered off the bus by armed guards. Men in one line, women in another. In the black of night and in the middle of the road. Everyone & their bags was individually searched. The guards clearly knew their stuff: tourists were dispensed with fairly quickly and local men received just a perfunctory (?) search. Local women on the other hand received a more thorough inspection... and rightly so. Their many layered garments and big bags invariably concealed tightly-wrapped bundles of coca leaves which were removed/extracted and tossed into the guard’s room. The offenders didn't even seem too pissed-off; none were arrested and just seemed to accept it (much to the surprise of all on looking gringos). Everyone back on board and off we go again... we were stopped on three more occasions within the next hour (but none so thorough).

On the plus side, Argentinean buses are nicer and the roads better, so if you have an overnight bus, you can actually get some sleep. And so it was that we awoke to a new bus station in our first Argentinean city: Salta. We'd heard good things and I’m glad to report that the place did not disappoint. We got pointed in the right direction of town and headed off to a hostel. We managed to get a room to ourselves, and then headed into the town centre to explore our new home and have breakfast. What a lovely city it is, some beautiful architecture, great hot chocolate, coffee and again soft bread and croissants...happy days.

We had a wander around. Oh the excitement of modern shops, obviously with our budget we were just looking, not buying. A very excited evening awaited us as we had been advised to go to a certain restaurant for great steak and Malbec. Delicious and the biggest steak we had even seen, just pure MEAT! And as a bonus on the way back to the hostel we passed an ice cream shop that had queues of people outside a good sign, so joining the queue Tim and Letty feasted on amazing ice creams, Tim's favourite was the red wine one, I know it sounds weird but apparently was delicious, Happy Timmy and Letty :)

More exploring the following day for me. The other two had decided that they would just have a relaxing chilled day. I decided that I would hike up to the top of the view point. So with my sun glasses on and a bottle of water I flip-flopped my way up to the top of the view point. It was beautiful, a picturesque garden and waterfalls at the top. I passed lots of joggers heading up and down the steep steps, so nice to be somewhere where running isn't freakish. On my way down I got chatted to by a young man (as it turned out, a very young man of 19), with my pigeon Spanish and his pigeon English we managed to have a nice chat back to the bottom of the steps, where he thought he should make sure I got back to my hostel OK and as I turned he asked me out for a drink later in the bar where he worked... mucho gracias, pero no!

The following morning we packed up and headed to the bus station for our next stop, Iguaçu. We'd only found out about the place not long before and almost didn't go as it was quite a detour. We're glad we did...it is a truly amazing collection of 175? Waterfalls... bigger and better than Niagara Falls apparently (but they would say that wouldn't they?!).

So in true travelling-Marsh’s style we had to go. To get there required one of the longest journeys we had done so far: 23 hours by bus. But thankfully a comfortable bus and for most of the way pretty good roads. We arrived bleary eyed into the humidity and the obligatory rain... it seems to follow us where ever we go. We waded to our hostel. This was our favourite so far, clean, modern, friendly and in the centre of town, which isn't too hard as town is pretty small. But that night as we got into bed, Letty let out a cry as there was something crawling in her bed, under more investigation it would seem the something was also crawling in our beds. In fact many things. But a swift room change and a good look under the bed and we settled in for the night ready for the following days water extravaganza.

After spending a day on a bus my legs were fresh and I love running in the rain. What I don't enjoy so much is running in the torrential rain, thunder and lightning. Also what I managed to do was flood Tim's iPod shuffle that I had been using [that'll be the third iPod she's drowned - TM] :( Back in time for the best breakfast in months, fresh fruit, brown bread, cereal, I was so happy and all included in the (5.00GBP) room rate.

Well fed, we headed to the bus station for our short journey to the National Park and their falls. Pay money and take short train ride to the first falls. Here we saw what looked like a cross between an anteater and a rat. Lots of different ones to see with some lovely tracks to take you into the base, to the centre and top of the falls.

Our first stop was to the heart on one of the bigger ones, we could hear it before you could see it, I think it was something like 75 falls in one area, all gushing into a massive bowl. With our waterproofs zipped up and hoods on we walked along the metal walkway bridge towards the torrent of water, it was amazing. We'd never seen anything like it. And as the day went on the sun came out. We saw so many more falls, some you could almost walk into others you could see from up high. With the falls all done and the day getting on we walked back along the train track, where we saw our first Armadillo, a very cute if a little shy animal.

That evening we had booked into a swanky restaurant, we'd had to book the evening before as it gets full. And this place is big (possibly the biggest I’ve ever been in) and packed. It was a lovely evening; we had a bottle of Linda Malbec, which was so very nice and yet another lovely steak. The place was a real family restaurant, lots of people in parties. We also had a live band that amused the diners, especially the very drunk elderly man who got up to dance to Zorba the Greek, getting quite a sweat on, I feared for his health; thankfully he sat down before he fell down. All in all a very good day was had by all.

With Iguaçu done, a relatively short bus ride of 20 hours to the capital of Argentina, Buenos Aries. And what a beautiful city it is. With the most expensive taxi so far we we're dropped off in the hub of hostelville. With a room booked we headed into explore. At first sight we thought it was shut, trying to find somewhere to eat on a Saturday morning was hard work.

Coming across a well dressed lady we asked where to go and were pointed in the direction of ........, so turning a few corners we we're in the heart of Bohemian Buenos Aries with bustling cobble streets and many people, all very cosmopolitan. Finding a restaurant for breakfast and sitting down with tea and coffee to people watch was fun. Then came the marching band. With full bellies we walked through the streets looking at the stalls of leather goods and black market fakery (invested in designer sun glasses for the equivalent of 2GBP... Fake-Bans).

Letty got herself a made to measure belt which she ending up helping make, as they guy was more than happy to show her how to use the tools. We then headed to the heart of the city for a peek at the shops, restaurants and people.

The following morning after a lovely run around Martin Square, Tim and I booked onto the tour bus to see the city, knowing we didn't have long there and with so much to see it seemed like the best plan (Letty was planning to stay longer so she had plenty of time to explore by herself). And it was great, such a diverse city, the harbour side with the colourful old metal buildings and narrow cobbled streets where Tango first began, to the designer streets which seemed very London. The beautiful parks with the sculptures and lakes. The decorative architecture and the sun shine.

Like I said a beautiful city, such a shame we couldn't spend longer there. One of the nicest things about it was that we got to meet up with our lovely friends Jen and Toby*, who just happened to be passing through. We had a lovely afternoon with them, catching up and wandering around the city and enjoying delicious ice creams. So nice to see a familiar face after so long. Sadly we had to say our goodbyes to them and pack up ready to leave on a bus that evening. Also a double sad day as we were leaving behind our lovely Frenchie Letty.

So all packed up, we jumped on the train to the bus station. In a final bid to keep us there, Letty had wandered off with one of our tickets as the bus was rapidly loading... she came running back at the last minute (she'd got lost in what was a big and very busy bus terminal).

We'd covered so much of South America with Frenchie and were so lucky to have such a lovely person to spend time with (and - let’s face it - translate for us!), we felt quite empty inside as we boarded the bus.

Waving au revoir to Lovely Letty we were off to our next stop, Cordoba.

Bolivia ptII: Sucre > Uyuni > Tupiza 22-29/11/10 by tim

Fearing being both covered in vomit and being robbed* during our journey to Sucre, it was with great relief that we disembarked in Sucre bus station and began the, by now, usual ritual of
- finding a taxi
- being charged an extortinate price
- being shouted at for offering only half of what was asked
- walking away from said taxi driver
- being chased by taxi driver who realised we wouldn't budge and was now happy to take our offer

So, twenty minutes later, we were deposited in the main square of Sucre and were once again pleasantly surprised by what we saw. Busy, vibrant and well developed. but enough of me, lets talk about the city. by coincidence, it was all of those things too... and wet. with all our bags, we couldn't realistically huddle in doorways without seriously annoying many Bolivians so we headed for what was the most european cafe we'd visited since... europe. unfortunately, the european-ness stretched to the price-list, but when you're cold, wet and tired hot-chocolate is pretty much the only cure. Though, for me, recovery was greatly assisted by coffee, orange juice, bacon and eggs. While the girls went off into the rain to find us accomodation (someone had to look after the bags, you see?).

There was nothing obvious about Sucre to find enjoyable, but it was. No special buildings, no special activities, but the city was lively and there were plenty of things to see if not much to actually do. In retrospect, it was probably that the majority of buildings were all in one piece and painted white (an annual requirement i believe)... makes such a difference.

An hour later the girls arrived back after walking most of Sucre to announce that cheap but perfectly satisfactory accommodation had been found five minutes from the town centre (and i quite like the refreshing little tingle you get from touching anything metal in the showers here anyway). Five minutes in the other direction was a park area where a very happy Katy was able to do some personal training with Letty. I was very happy to sit and watch.

nestled away on another side street was a french cafe / restaurant. We've met alot of french travellers in south america (really, a surprising amount) but this was the first french eatery, so obviously Letty was very happy. the coffee and hot chocolate were devine and whilst most of the food was beyond our budget, what we had was delicious with a bonus of free internet (ok - the real reason i liked Sucre!).

When we could tear ourselves away from the cafe, the local market was big and thriving... with all the latest fashions. We found a juice bar which back in the uk would have been closed down long ago, but served superb smoothies for virtually nothing.

It was also here that we sent our few christmas gifts back home as being a well developed city, we figured they had best chance of making it home in one piece. Which - because we are so lame at keeping this thing up to date - we know they did.

But apart from this amusing photo of a mobile home - Sucre style, there's not much else to say about the place, so we move on...

Our journey from Sucre to was notable only for stopping off at Potosi. And Potosi is most notable for being the worlds highest city (altitude... probably also coca-leaf consumption). You would think it might make more of that claim but what we saw was more dust & debris; though rather strangely, they had the most amazing and modern bus station, so maybe its a sign of things to come.

We went from that station to a small, smelly side street for our next bus - the smallest bus so far (via a strange breakfast involving noodles and what we were told was chicken). Thankfully we were virtually the only passengers. Off we went through the bumpy dusty street on our way to Uyuni and their infamous salt flats. We managed to get into the middle of nowhere before the wheel quite literally fell off (to be honest, we were suprised it hadn't happened before now).

Thankfully the bus had a spare tyre and with a little brut strength and a lot of shouting the driver managed to fit it and once again we were on our way for all of five minutes before the wobbling became worse than it was before (the 'spare' was down to the carcass). more shouting, more hammering and the orignial tyre was re-fitted. Once again we were on our way, wobbling all the way into Uyuni.

We were greeted with the normal welcome of 'stay here my

friend' interspersed with 'we have the best 4x4in uyuni - never breaks down'. The 4x4's ususally only take up to 8 people, so we were in a good position to haggle, and we'd got quite good at it by now. We also managed to strike a good deal for the hostel for the night. all unpacked and excited about the following we day we went out to eat...and in Uyuni that means pizza or pizza. we had pizza.

The sole purpose of Uyuni is as a base for the salt flats (either tours actually mining the salt). and as you don't see the miners the only people you actually meet in uyuni are other tourists. Not really our thing, but the place itself is a it of a one-off, so we grin and bare it. The town itself is small but stillmanages to be sprawling; the main tourist hub is really quite pleasant but stray away and it gets decidedly more threadbare. Good night market in the main streets though.

the following morning, We arrived and jumped onboard our trusty 4x4 that would be whizzing through the Salt Flats. what another amazing experience. Full of brilliant photo opportunities. We had a great day speeding through the "flats" with so much white to see... really - horizon to horizon absolutely nothing. We got to share our 8 seat 4x4 with 10 poeple so quite a squeeze in the end.

(click images for a larger version)


Aside from the obligatory comedy photos, we also stopped off to view a dormant volcano, had lunch in the middle of nowhere and visited a mine/museum type thing (didn't go in), with petrified cacti outside. this place might just be the dictionary definition of desolation.

In true Bolivian fashion we broke down on our way back, while we sat in the truck Tim and the driver got out along with a french chap and all looked under the hood, then the driver climbed on top of the engine... with some banging and water adding we we're once again on the move just as the sun was going down. Then again in true form a few minutes later the driver was once agin under the hood with Tim trying to stop the smoke and start the 4x4. what was amusing the first time round was now considerably less so with the sun rapidly fading and the thought of ten people sleeping overnight in a 4x4 in the desert. Thankfully, at the last gasp, the thing restarted and we rolled back into town as dusk officially turned to night.

Managed to grab a pizza, well what else? and go to the train station. Our first South American train journey how exciting? As it turned out, not very. slightly more comfortable than a bus but alot louder, with a dvd of cirque de soleil blasting through the cabins.

We arrived in Tupiza, at 4.30am - still the middle of the night - and, bless them, we we're still being hounded by people to stay in their hostels. With little power to resist we followed like sheep... somehow picking up someone else who tagged along with us... the three had become four! The person in question was a lovely Swiss woman called Florence.

We crashed at our hostel until a sensible hour to get up and then found somewhere for breakfast. Now what you first realise about TUpiza is that all the restaurants seem to come in a "tupiza restaraunt kit" that being pine wooden interior, with matching tables and chairs and you guessed it a pizza menu. So what is there to do in Tupiza..well this is horse riding country, so we booked a days ride.

When we arrived in the morning we we're a little early as we had hoped to grab some breakfast en route only to find Tupiza was shut. But the nice man from the horse riding company took us to his home and fed us all a Bolivian breakfast: dry bread, strawberry flavour jam, dulce de leche (like caramel, very popular, very sweet, very 'Tim'), and instant coffee or for Katy "solo agua caliente, por favor". And the very cutest kitten ever (OK - i know, they're all cute). When we tried to pay, they wouldn't let us - result.

So off we went to mount our trusty steeds. BUt not before we we're kitted out in chaps, bandanas and cowboy hats. I got a big brown horse called Lucchio and Katy got a grey called Morrow. Letty named her's Squirt. Everyone was happy with their beasts (Florence least so, as she said she'd never ridden before).

Our guides turned up and looked about 13, Katy assured me that she was younger than that when she and Sara used to guide in the Welsh mountains.

Off we went through dusty red tracks surrounded by amazing 'cowboys and indians' views (alot of western movies have been filmed here). Then down into the valley floor through some amazing rock-formations. we had a break here and another guide turned up, a young Goth who rode like a maniac, to take half of our group on a shorter day. we made our way along a disused rail track towards our lunch destination by the river. It was a truly lovely day.

Katy was - of course - in her element; I think i maybe had a bit more control than Letty, but the comedy award must go to Florence, who - let's be blunt - had no apparent control at all... horse wants to stop? horse stops. horse wants to gallop? horse gallops! Rising trot? not for our Flo! very funny from behind though. heading home Katy's horse decided to rear up. a lot. which she found super fun (the guides, less so judging by the look on their faces).

With a brilliant day behind us and our behinds knowing all about the brilliant day, we headed back to the hostel for a well deserved shower and food. And later that evening we sent Florence on her way towards Paraguay. We'd only been together for the briefest time but it seemed so much longer... a pleasure to meet you Florence.

Whilst at the station, we bought tickets for the following morning to continue our journey, to Salta. Goodbye Bolivia, you will be missed. hello Argentina.

(* after the drunken Bolivian in front of us mentioned that this is where everyone gets robbed as we arrived at a fuel stop.)