Hot springs, llamas, multicoloured lakes, salt desert...

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After a 22h freezing cold bus journey we arrived in Jujuy, in Northern Argentina (pronounced 'hoo hoo - eey'), where we stocked up on thermals and checked into a nice hostel, run by absolute children. They positively regressed as the evening went on, partly fuelled by an abundance of daiquiris, and led us on a wild goose chase through the chilly madrugada streets in search of Jujuy's elusive ONLY nightclub. Which of course did not exist, despite helpful directions from policemen and other figures of authority. Our hostelling companions consisted of Israelis, Israelis... and more Israelis. Were we in the promised land? Despite hailing from N London, neither of us had ever seen so many Israelis in one place... a trend that was to be continued all the way though to Uyuni, Bolivz. This is because they all finish their compulsory army service and are itching for freedom... or just cheap foreign drugs. The next day saw us hotfooting it to the hot springs, where we languished amongst beautiful mountains and rising steam... a welcome respite from the ARCTIC climes... central heating still hasn't caught on yet. Here we met the most adorable middle aged Argentine couple, who we conversed with for hours on topics as diverse as the British education system, Peronismo, the Falklands War (yep, he had the battle scars), and one night stands. We stayed there til after dark, warmed up with mate and puff pastries in their car, and they chauffeured us back to our hostel. They kept turning to each other and exclaiming 'we have friends from LONDON now!' and were at pains to assure us that we were beautiful not only on the outside, but inside too. What absolute sweeties.

vicuñas!
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The next day we bussed northwards to Tupiza, in Bolivia, where we spent a day exploring the surrounding coloured mountains on a 'triathlon' tour. This involved horse riding, mountain biking and jeeping along beautiful rivers and an area called 'land of the devils,' past villages left abandoned after mining deaths. Our guides were keen to leave before sunset, as they still believe that the devils responsible for these deaths inhabit the area. The HIGHlight for Laura and low point for Rebecca was the final descent, mountain biking ... or freewheeling, down a steep winding mountain road at sunset. Exhilarating and terrifying respectively! This trip also gave us an introduction to what was to be the soundtrack for the next fortnight (and it's still going strong, playing as we're sitting in thsi internet cafe in fact). MARYLIN. 'Pon hearing this upbeat calypso party choon, Laura asked the driver whether this was traditional bolivian music. He replied that it was. When asked what the song was about, he informed us the entire album was lamenting the rape and murder of an Argentine 12 year old girl. So this is a Bolivian band? No, an Argentine band. So this isn't traditional Bolivian music? No. Right then!

emu!! (fleeing us)
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The following morning we loaded all our stuff onto the top of a battered old jeep, which was to be our home for the next four days. We were going on a trip to the Bolivian Altiplano... and it was absolutely breathtaking.

We saw so many llamas, they are the funniest things ever... they are all tagged with PINK WOOLLEN EARRINGS so the farmers know whose is whose, bathed in hot thermal baths (again?) at 4500m, saw multicoloured lakes (the photos don't do them justice!!), the 'desert of Dali,' with surreal rock formations, geysers, and stayed in tiny Andean villages... the people who live here must be made of steel... after 3 shivering nights we were ready for the hot showers at the end... one between 50, anyone? Our guide/driver/mechanic and his girlfriend, our cocinera, were fantastic... cooking delicious Bolivian meals (such as tamales... maize balls stuffed with llama meat and grapes, which we happily devoured in the middle of a field of frolicking live llamas) and putting up with SHAKIRASHAKIRA once an hour, at least. The final day took us to the otherworldly Salar de Uyuni, the world's biggest salt desert, where we watched the sun rise. This was absolutely amazing. White as far as the eye could see, apart from one cactus covered island rising up in the middle, which was perfect for playing with perspective photos.

Javier on jeep
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From Uyuni town we hopped straight on a bus to Potosi, to the NE. This was not the most auspicious of journeys, given that half way through we realised that the hostel Rebecca had kindly booked for us was IN ANOTHER CITY. So on arriving in a Bolivian bus station at 2am, we had the enviable task of piling into an unlicensed "taxi," and knocking at hostel after hostel. No room at the inn, no room at the inn, no room at the inn, but we eventually found refuge in a place called The Company of Jesus, where we stayed three nights, and enjoyed breakfast under a painting of the last supper. Divine. Unfortunately upon settling into our room, Rebecca realised her wallet had been left on the bus, following a messy bag explosion incident. Peso-less and minus all debit/credit cards, she found herself at Laura's mercy for what was to be an eventful few days in the charming and bizarre city of Potosi.