Falls Up

Greetings once more. We hope you are keeping well. If you're interested in our ongoing travels or simply need a cure for insomnia, read on.

Last we wrote, we were about to embark on the long bus ride to Iguazú (or Iguacu, depending on which side of the border you're referring to). The bus was comfortable and after seventeen hours, we arrived safely in Puerto Iguazú, the last city on the Argentine side of the border. We took a taxi to the cabañas where we were staying and Oscar, the friendly owner greeted us and gave us all the information we might need. Despite having been to Iguazú previously, I had always stayed in Foz do Iguacu on the Brazilian side, this was the first time I had visited Puerto Iguazú city to do more than get a bus or plane. We had a wander around what is quite a small and pleasant town.

We went to the waterfalls on the Argentine side, in their national park and took the small train in the park to the Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Throat). On the way, we could see thousands of butterflies of different types, shapes, colours and sizes. We then did the walk along walkways above the placid Rio Iguazú to the Garganta. There one can see a massive volume of water dropping down in to the chasm below, creating spray and vapour in the process. This is the single largest part of the falls and so the noise of the water is a constant thudding as it pounds the basalt and water below.

As we walked back along the walkways, we spotted a large caiman (a member of the crocodile family) who was warming itself in some shallow water. From time to time it would open or close it's mouth and occasionally appeared to yawn. Apart from those intermittent movements it was quite still.

We went on to walk, first the lower, then the upper circuit. These are picturesque walks through native forest, with an abundance of butterflies and plenty of coati. The coati most closely resembles a raccoon, though it has a more angular head and a protruding snout with which it forages around. The coati in the park have become accustomed to humans and consequently try to forage from them too. At one of the cafés, there is a man whose job is just to chase away the coatis. Despite this, we saw one jump on to a man's tray, just as he put it on the table and steal the entire quiche he had bought for his family. They are also terrific climbers, going up and down trees as though they are on level ground and leaping from branch to branch.

Apart from the fauna which provided a distraction, sometimes welcome, we really wanted to see more of the waterfalls. As one ambles along the trails, at times one is presented with a stunning view of some section of the falls or one is walking in front of, under or over the individual waterfalls of varying breadth and heights. At times that meant getting wet. After a full day enjoying the stunningly beautiful and dramatic scenery we headed back to town.

On the outskirts, we decided to visit La Aripuca, which is named after a Guarani (the indigenous people of the area) bird trap. The main building is built like a giant version of the trap from massive trunks of a selection of the native trees. As we were there at the end of the day, we had the place mostly to ourselves. It was both interesting and serene, almost as important was the tasty ice cream we had (yerba mate and rose). As we left, it was getting dark which is the worst time for flying bitey things. So, despite not being far, we got a taxi back to our cabaña. That wasn't as simple as it should have been, as the driver had no knowledge of the roads. After he stopped for ten minutes to try and work out the route from his map, which was part of a tourist brochure, I took it from him, showed him the way and gave him directions. When we got to the cabaña, he then didn't have any change and nor did I. So, he magnanimously told us not to worry about it, so we may have taken longer than expected but it had been free.

We settled in for a bit and were just debating what to do for dinner, when Oscar (the friendly and helpful owner) knocked on our door. He asked if he could give us a lift anywhere in town. We decided to go to a restaurant he recommended and a little later we set off. As we were en route, he said that with our permission he would like to give us a tour. We gratefully accepted and he told us about the history of the area and city. He then took us to the place where the Iguazú and Parana rivers meet. As the Iguazú river forms the border between Brazil and Argentina one can look across to Brazil. The Parana forms the border between Paraguay and Argentina, so at the point where the two rivers meet, it is also possible to see three different countries and each has a large obelisk, with the colours of the national flag to make sure it is clear which you are looking at. In addition, one can see a definite line where the waters of the two rivers collide. It takes some time for them to mix, as they are of different densities and temperatures, so the water from the Iguazú run under the Parana for some way.

As Oscar drove us along one steep winding section of road, we witnessed local kids rocketing down, sat on their skateboards, resembling more closely skeleton bobsledders. To get back up the slope, they hung on to buses and cars going in that direction. It was impressive to see them careering down, though it was a miracle we didn't witness an accident, as they had no way of knowing what might be heading towards them. After some more of the tour, we had a lovely steak dinner.

The next day, we got a bus over the border to see the waterfalls from the Brazilian side. The expression that is sometimes used to describe the difference is that Argentina has the falls and Brazil has the balcony. The path on the Brazilian side is narrower and for the majority of the route was more crowded, as there seemed to be an almost constant stream of organised tour groups. From that side of the river one can better appreciate the scale of the multitude of waterfalls. Towards the end of the walk on that side, one ends up on a walkway that projects in to the Garganta del Diablo. As the spray covered us, it did not make it seem any better to think we were essentially standing on the devil's uvula. Which is where that metaphor ends.

As we sat having a coffee, looking and listening to the thunderous falls, a groups of about twenty late teens from a Brazilian music school decided to do an acapella song and dance routine, starting with an adaptation of 'The Girl from Ipanema' and several other songs which they did really well, though they were competing with the noise of the water behind them.

Still on the Brazilian side, after leaving the park, we then went to a bird park, where we were able to get close to a wide range of indigenous and other birds and butterflies. At one spot, some Guarani people in traditional attire did a song and dance routine whilst looking thoroughly depressed at being reduced to a sideshow. We looked at more birds including macaws and toucans. One toucan seemed to react badly to the sound of my camera shutter and almost attacked me. We left, with all our digits still intact and a little later got the bus back to Puerto Iguazú in Argentina.

We had another long bus ride, this time we had to change a couple of times, firstly in Posadas, then in Corrientes, as we made our way to Salta, in the far north of Argentina after 24 hours.

Salta is constrained by the mountains that surround it. It is a pleasant enough city with some nice parks and more trees than many other cities in Latin America. There are also two churches and a cathedral painted in striking pastel colours on the outside (red, blue and pink respectively), though more traditionally decorated on the inside. Other than a more sedate pace, Salta did not have a huge amount to offer us, though the empanadas (a beef or chicken stuffed pasty) were particularly good. So, after just a night there, we got a bus to La Quiaca on the border with Bolivia.

The bus left at 00.30. Which meant we would be sleeping for the six and a half hour journey, at least that was the intention. I got to sleep after a short while and Mel was apparently asleep soon after. However, the little old lady in the row behind us regularly had to make visits to the toilet, with the assistance of her daughter. Unfortunately this involved a great deal of conversation at volume (I'm assuming the elderly woman was hard of hearing as opposed to just enjoyed shouting), that and leaning on my seat, my shoulder and sometimes my head as she made her way to and from her ablutions. All things considered it was a miracle I got any sleep at all. As this was going on, Mel had her earplugs in and was blissfully unaware.

We arrived in La Quiaca at about 06.30 and stumbled off the bus. Organised ourselves a little bit and got a taxi to the border a little way away. We passed through Argentine immigration without any issues and walked over to get in to Bolivia, where there was nobody to be seen. We got to see a pleasant dawn from their and as the window to the office was open, we were able to complete the immigration form before the Bolivian immigration officer returned. When he did, he stamped us in to the country without much thought, as he was mostly having a chat with someone on his mobile phone. We got a mention in that conversation (in Spanish - 'oh, I've got two English here') and we were in Bolivia.

On the other side of the border, things were immediately different. The smells, noises and appearance of the people and buildings. I immediately got us a taxi to drive us the hour or so (92km) to Tupiza. The drive was lovely, as the sun continued to rise and the rugged scenery unfolded in front of us. The border was at more than 3,600 metres above sea level and we climbed to probably 4,000 metres or more. Then we descended towards Tupiza at the comparatively low 2,960m (about 10,000ft). We got to our hotel, had a wander around the small town, though not much was open yet, then went back to the hotel for breakfast and to relax.

Thankfully neither of us was adversely affected by the altitude except a little shortness of breath if we exerted ourselves too much by rushing up the stairs or similar.

Tupiza is a nice little dusty town, not much more than a village. We explored it thoroughly which didn't take very long. Although there are some businesses that specifically cater for tourists coming through, for the most part the townsfolk seem to continue blissfully oblivious of the paler people wandering around. We had a mooch around the market, where we found a canteen type of annexe where locals seem to lunch. We sat with them and had a hearty bowl of rice and chicken soup. That evening after dinner we could hear a brass band over by the town square. When we got there, we could see that there was a marching brass band (not in any fancy uniforms though) and lots of boys and girls of about 15-19 dancing and running around, having good fun, wearing masks and face paint. It transpired this was all to celebrate the 1st May, Workers Day, a national holiday, the following day.

The people in Bolivia are typically stockier and darker than the more European looking people in Argentina, Chile and Uruguay. This is in part as the indigenous people and culture are more intact in this part of South America. Many of the women wear what has become a traditional attire of a skirt padded out with petticoats and a lacy half apron. On their tops they wear blouses and a blazer and a bowler hat on their heads. Those wearing this ensemble are known as Chollas. The origin of the bowler hat in this attire is a funny one. Essentially, about a century ago, a businessman accidentally received a cargo of bowler hats (derbys in the USA). He managed to convince the local women that they were the height of fashion in Europe and ever since they have become part of the standard Cholla uniform.

The reason we and many others visit Tupiza, is as a starting point for a tour of the region, finishing in Uyuni and so the foreigners coming through typically are talking of the tour they are trying to do or how much they enjoyed the one that they have just completed. After some deliberation we decided to do a four day tour with a company that was highly recommended. On the first day of the tour, we met Luis (the driver and guide), Maria (the cook) and Beronger and Ludovico (a French couple who would be our travelling companions). We loaded the 4x4 with our gear and ourselves and headed off. Soon after we left Tupiza, we passed cerro Palala, an interesting red rock mountain made of several conjoined spires. We went through the little dusty village of San Pablo de Lipez and through increasingly picturesque countryside, with mountains, valleys and llamas to look at all through the day. We stopped for a nice lunch Maria prepared for us in San Antonio de Lipez (at 4,200 metres above sea level). Everyone was feeling well and thus far, the altitude was not having and adverse effects other than shortness of breath at times. We continued to climb and not long after lunch we had ascended to 5,300 metres (16,000 feet). Although the first day was mostly a driving day, there were still great panoramas and we had a view of Laguna Morejon (4,850m) and stopped to look around what is now a ghost town, though previously was inhabited by a mining community.

Bolivia has phenomenal natural resources, including gold, silver, copper, borax, sulphur, lithium and much more. Unfortunately, there is limited expertise and investment, so the resources are typically extracted by small businesses and then sold to refineries in Chile, only to be repurchased afterwards. We arrived in Quetana Chico after dark. Maria made us a tasty dinner and we had an early night.

The next day, we left early and as we were packing the jeep, Mel befriended a baby black llama that came out from the yard opposite and contentedly started nibbling on her jacket cuffs. We then passed though Quetana Grande, ironically much smaller than Quetana Chico. That day, we stopped at various lakes, the first was Laguna Hedionda, a pretty lake with white borax powder around the edges and mountains behind. The next lake, Lago Kollipa, was almost completely dry and consisted of a white sulphurous powder that is used in the production of soap, shampoo and washing powders. Maria gave a couple of plastic bags to us, so we could fill them up with free washing powder for her. We were able to walk most of the way out in to the lake, on what looked, felt and smelled like someone had just spilled the biggest box of Ariel in the world out over the ground. As we walked back over the powder, a friendly black labrador bounded over to play with us. We continued onwards to the Salar de Chalviri, a small salt flat and then to another lake which has thermal springs at one end. We had intended to bathe there, however as we arrived, a large contingent of other people arrived. They were loud and reduced the appeal, so we decided to go for a walk instead, where it was quieter and the views were better. From the hot springs, we then crossed the Dali Desert, so called because it looks like some of the famous artist's drawings, with a foreground of desert strewn with large boulders and a background of colourful mountains. After the desert, Maria made us lunch at Laguna Verde. The wind was quite fierce there creating white crested waves across the big jade green lake. We recrossed the Dali Desert and then climbed up to 5,000m where the Geysers of Sol de Mañana were bubbling and venting plumes of steam, with the pungent aroma of sulphur in the air. We particularly liked the boiling and bubbling mud which made belching noises as it spluttered. We checked in to the hotel in which we would be staying and then went to the Laguna Colorada. The lake is very large and is a popular spot for three different types of flamingos, distinguishable by whether they have black or yellow beaks or red tail feathers. The water in the lake is a light burgundy colour due to the mineral and algae in it. Whereas the previous evening, we had been the only group staying at the hotel, this next evening we were one of several groups. That unfortunately meant some loud people. At dinner, the group behind us were talking very loudly and then decided to play some hideous electronic music. After listening to the American girl going on about her sorority and the English guy shouting about all the drugs he likes, we had all heard enough, so Mel had some firm words and they were a bit quieter after that. As we had another very early start the following day, we had an early night. As luck would have it, the noisy group from dinner decided to congregate almost outside our room at inconsiderate volume. It was decided it was my turn to ask them to be quiet. I was emphatic in what I expected from them and thankfully they were silent for the rest of the evening.

The next day, we left early and as we were packing the jeep, Mel befriended a baby black llama that came out from the yard opposite and contentedly started nibbling on her jacket cuffs. We then passed though Quetana Grande, ironically much smaller than Quetana Chico. That day, we stopped at various lakes, the first was Laguna Hedionda, a pretty lake with white borax powder around the edges and mountains behind. The next lake, Lago Kollipa, was almost completely dry and consisted of a white sulphurous powder that is used in the production of soap, shampoo and washing powders. Maria gave a couple of plastic bags to us, so we could fill them up with free washing powder for her. We were able to walk most of the way out in to the lake, on what looked, felt and smelled like someone had just spilled the biggest box of Ariel in the world out over the ground. As we walked back over the powder, a friendly black labrador bounded over to play with us. We continued onwards to the Salar de Chalviri, a small salt flat and then to another lake which has thermal springs at one end. We had intended to bathe there, however as we arrived, a large contingent of other people arrived. They were loud and reduced the appeal, so we decided to go for a walk instead, where it was quieter and the views were better. From the hot springs, we then crossed the Dali Desert, so called because it looks like some of the famous artist's drawings, with a foreground of desert strewn with large boulders and a background of colourful mountains. After the desert, Maria made us lunch at Laguna Verde. The wind was quite fierce there creating white crested waves across the big jade green lake. We recrossed the Dali Desert and then climbed up to 5,000m where the Geysers of Sol de Mañana were bubbling and venting plumes of steam, with the pungent aroma of sulphur in the air. We particularly liked the boiling and bubbling mud which made belching noises as it spluttered. We checked in to the hotel in which we would be staying and then went to the Laguna Colorada. The lake is very large and is a popular spot for three different types of flamingos, distinguishable by whether they have black or yellow beaks or red tail feathers. The water in the lake is a light burgundy colour due to the mineral and algae in it. Whereas the previous evening, we had been the only group staying at the hotel, this next evening we were one of several groups. That unfortunately meant some loud people. At dinner, the group behind us were talking very loudly and then decided to play some hideous electronic music. After listening to the American girl going on about her sorority and the English guy shouting about all the drugs he likes, we had all heard enough, so Mel had some firm words and they were a bit quieter after that. As we had another very early start the following day, we had an early night. As luck would have it, the noisy group from dinner decided to congregate almost outside our room at inconsiderate volume. It was decided it was my turn to ask them to be quiet. I was emphatic in what I expected from them and thankfully they were silent for the rest of the evening.

Another day on the tour, another early start. We set off to the Arbol de Piedra (stone tree) which is an interesting rock form, set in a high desert with mountains around, some of which had striking streaks of red, yellow, white and green. This is because the mountains in the area are all extinct volcanoes and the colours show the minerals contained within. Near the Arbol de Piedra are some interesting rock forms, with some projecting out like tongues where the sand has eroded the lower parts. Other rocks were split as though they had been cut. Next we passed a string of lakes, some of which had flamingos on. We then passed the only active volcano in the area, Volcan Ollague (5,685m). It has not erupted for thousands of years, it just has a vent to the side of the peak from which a steady plume of smoke is emitted. We then crossed the Salar de Chiguana and the Potosi to Calama railway. In the village of San Juan we visited the tombs and could see the mummified remains of the nobles of the area from a millennium ago. They have the deformed conical cranium that was used to distinguish nobles from commoners. As we drove towards our final lodging, we passed quinoa fields. The terrain in which it grows looks like it is mostly rock and dust without any soil to speak of. There are eight varieties of quinoa (red, white, black, green, brown, gold, lilac and another no-one can remember) the only difference being the colour and texture, as it has no effect on flavour or nutritional content. The soil can only support a harvest alternate years, as it needs to be left fallow for at least one year after each harvest. Bolivia produces 46% of the global output (the majority of the remainder is from Peru) and as it has become increasingly popular in Europe and North America, the price has climbed to such an extent that many locals cannot afford what has been a staple of the people of the area for thousands of years. We saw a number of grey rocky fields with rows of colourful quinoa plants. We made our way to our lodging which was almost entirely constructed from blocks of salt.

We were planning on being on the salt flats for the sunrise, so that meant waking up at 5am. We were ready and raring to go for a 5.45am departure. Luis however had some things to sort with the jeep before we left, so we were a little delayed and did not leave until 6.15am. The French couple were getting increasingly agitated, whereas they had been very relaxed and amenable for the past three days. The sun began to rise as we made our way out on to the flats and for the first time Luis put his foot down. We pulled up and a few moments later the sun came over the horizon, changing the colours of our surroundings. The sunrise was lovely and spectacular.

We then headed over to Inkahuasi an island in the salt flats, with giant cacti and impressive views of our surroundings. Climbing to the top was a lot of effort due to the altitude. Once there, we took our time descending (whereas many seemed to be in a mad hurry), taking the opportunity to appreciate the views and our surroundings. We got back to the bottom and Maria had prepared breakfast for us. After that, we struck out further on to the flats. Apart from being able to say that the sky was a deep blue, the ground a pure white and it is very flat, it is an indescribable place, so I won't make a vain attempt here. We got out of the car and Beronger turned in to a parody of a manic 1930s director, shouting instructions at Ludovico and Luis for the photos she wanted (she even had notes prepared of all the shots she needed). We decided to walk away from the noise which was disturbing the tranquillity of our location. We took a few photos but mostly kept away. Luis then took a handful of the two of us and we went on to the Salt Hotel. It is what it says, a hotel made out of salt. It is also a tourist trap, so we didn't spend long there before going to Colchani a small village just off the salt, where one can buy all sorts of tourist toot. We had lunch and made our way to Uyuni and our final stop on the tour, the Train Cemetery. There we could see the rusting and graffitied hulks of the old British locomotives which ran on Bolivian railroads for 150 years. In what was the boiler of one locomotive, the majority of the steel had been cut away and there was a swing hanging down, which we had fun on. Luis then dropped us in Uyuni. We said our goodbyes and had a look around. That didn't take long, so we booked a bus to La Paz for that evening. In the meantime we had some food at a nice little place and the owner's very cute children were very appreciative of some small gifts we gave them. We cleaned ourselves up and then had a bouncy, windy journey through the night to La Paz.

We hadn't slept much en route, so as we passed through the ever growing sprawl, over the high plateau, of El Alto, Bolivia's second largest city, which used to just be a poorer adjunct to La Paz, we could see humanity pass by, as long as they were the people who cannot afford to live in La Paz, one was looking for. From the edge of El Alto (4,000m) the bus descended towards La Paz (3,660m). It gives a wonderful view of the peculiar city below. La Paz is set in a high valley and one can assume that there is limited building control. Any available space has buildings on it, sometimes it seems precariously stuck on to the valley walls. Many of the houses appear to be unfinished and are raw brick boxy edifices. In the background loom the snowcapped peaks of Mount Illimani. The traffic throngs along as the overfilled streets are a bustle with people selling their wares. Despite what must sound disparaging, La Paz has a peculiar beauty and vitality. As we got to the bus station and from there in a cab to the hotel, Mel already liked it and I was pleased to be back.

We stayed in a lovely old colonial house, converted in to a hotel, with exceptionally friendly and helpful staff. After putting all our things in our room, we had an excellent breakfast. Both that morning and the following, we could hear an American woman telling people about her husband. She would descend on people as they were helping themselves to the buffet or eating their morning repast with the phrase 'My husband is a travel writer, he has been to more than one hundred countries. Where are you from?' then after ignoring the response she would tell them more about her husband the former economist who now runs seminars educating American people how to rent their properties and use the proceeds to go travelling. It would be at this point that the husband would uninvited pull up a chair at the victim's table and talk at the person. They set about this routine like evangelists about to get to a magic number. Peculiarly none of those whom we saw them do this to were American, also by definition were already travelling, so had no use for their services. On the second morning she tried their system on us, despite the fact that she mostly didn't hear anything we said, she clearly realised we were not going to be as amenable as some of the others. During the conversation Mel mentioned my photos and I said how, amongst others, I had sold one of my photos from the Oruro Carnival in Bolivia ten years ago to a bank in La Paz and wouldn't it be funny if I saw it, though I couldn't remember which bank and it was a long time ago, so was unlikely to.

Over the next couple of days we would wander around the local area. Nearby is the so called Witches Market, where talismans, herbs, offerings, dried llama foetuses, dried starfish, pills and potions can be bought to deal with any ailment or circumstance that requires attention. In the nearby streets are a number of shops selling various alpaca apparel and souvenirs, which we perused at length. Whilst mooching around, I suddenly spotted one of my photos from that carnival ten years ago being used in the advertising of a tour company. They were closed at that time, so I didn't have the chance to ask them why they were using my photo without permission. Yet.

As we returned from a sumptuous dinner in a restaurant recommended to us, we stopped in Plaza San Francisco, where an artist would use spray paint, fire, scraps of paper and a lot of talent to paint impressive scenes. Whilst watching him, we got chatting to an American father and daughter. Abi had been studying for a couple of months in Ecuador and Doug, a law professor at the University of Maryland had come out and they were travelling together for a while. We ended up chatting with them for some time and agreed to meet for coffee the following day. That coffee extended in to a dinner with our new found friends.

Whilst in La Paz, we also visited the Coca museum, which is interesting as it explains in detail the benefits of coca, how different cocaine is and how several products not least Coca-Cola still have coca in, though not cocaine anymore. This being despite the fact coca and cocaine are classified the same in the USA.

We decided to move on from La Paz, although we could have comfortably stayed for longer. Before we got out bus onwards, I had just enough time to see the tour company using my photo. We went along and I asked the owner why he was and his response was that he was entitled to as it was on the Internet. I asked him whether he had any understanding of copyright, which he said he did (I don't think he really does). He claimed that there was nothing to tell him that the image was copyrighted. I showed him my website and the notice on every page and every image that I am the copyright owner. That seemed to shoot his argument down, however he carried on belligerently asserting that anything on the Internet was free to use. I then asked him whether he had actually made the assumption that he could use these images with impunity because the copyright owners were unlikely ever to see his posters. He shrugged that this was actually the case. All this time, his assistant seemed to be in shock and he wasn't dealing well with being caught out. In the end, we agreed he would cut my image from the hoarding and give to me, which I now have as an interesting souvenir.

We took the bus from La Paz to Copacabana, on the shores of Lake Titikaka. We went back through El Alto and the people on show there and arrived in Copacabana shortly before dark. What had been a sleepy little place was now tourist central. It was a shock to both of us. We didn't like the vibe of the place, though agreed the lake looked lovely, so the following day we decided to head over the border to Peru.

We took a bus firstly to Puno, after crossing the frontier. In Puno we took a boat tour of the Uros, the floating islands made of totoro reeds by the local floating community. They have understandably become increasingly touristic, which detracts from how interesting they are. The people apparently migrated on to these massive rafts to avoid the politics and taxation on the land some generations ago and have since stayed there. The rafts have houses on them and have two metres thickness of reeds, one metre of soil, suspended above fifteen metres depth of water. They are quite bouncy to walk on. From Puno, we took another bus on to Cusco. The driver on that journey seemed to be in a great hurry. That made the ride uncomfortable, however it thankfully made it shorter, as instead of taking seven and a half hours, we arrived in five.

We are now ready to explore Cusco and its environs.

Once again best wishes from both of us.