The night went well, despite the tight conditions on 4000 meters, not the faintest symptoms.
Breakfast in the midst of a thousand people and a terrible mess is, as everyone is cooking or preparing something different, a creative chaos. But I like it very much.
Holy Mass with fireworks
The departure of the bus has been delayed. People are relaxed, sit down somewhere, confident that things will work out sooner or a little later. Sometimes one wishes for the stoic calm of the natives.
At the platforms where the buses arrive and depart, benches are hastily placed, a table is decorated with flowers, various objects are provided that look suspiciously like something religious.
When I ask a couple of ladies if a wedding is being celebrated, I am met with loud laughter. Anyway, a short time later a few firecrackers are fired as on 1st of August in Switzerland, a music band gets ready, and there - the grand entrance of the priest.
Now I understand. A mass is indeed being held here. But the reason for this strange place remains a mystery to me. In any case, the visitors, one hundred percent Indios, follow the mass with great reverence and respect. As an outsider, I almost feel a bit like a foreign element. A small white sheep also seems to play a role, or is it just coincidentally present?
But I listen to the sermon and am impressed by the harmonious words knowing how to extract something good from the obvious poverty of his flock. On the other hand, we know it: misfortune in earthly life, reward in the hereafter.
The formula still seems to work. At the end of the mass, the band has its big performance, characterized mainly by volume and intensity than by musical quality. It leads the priest to the buses and the cabs, and all are given a blessing. Now there is really nothing that can happen to us, at least not on the way to Uyuni.
Farewell
Potosi disappears in the humid haze hanging over the city since yesterday's rain, one last wave out to the statue of Christ. I can't say that it's hard for me to say goodbye. And yet, a painful sense of loss sets in, as it always does when saying goodbye.
You arrive somewhere, feeling strange and alone, but with each hour, with each step, something familiar sets in. One of the brain's many strengths is its ability to recognize patterns, and as soon as similarities are found to earlier, stored patterns, calming hormones are released. In each case, that's when you start to feel good. It can be a beer or a coffee in a restaurant, a hotel room that offers comfort, or just the sight of another tourist.
And yet, the more familiarity has set in, the greater and more melancholy the farewell. Also from Potosi ...
Almost like in Ladakh
The ride reminds me more and more LadakhOscillating between 3500 and 4500 meters, an excellent road (which, on the other hand, is less reminiscent of Ladakh) leads south-west, so once more away from the originally planned route.
So instead of slowly moving north, we are going south. There are places that should not be left behind. The barren landscape, also here of different geological nature, manifests itself in all kinds of colorful and bizarre rock structures. However, there is at least something like grass here, also tumbleweeds in rampant bushes, cacti, shrubs, rarely low-growing trees.
In between the seemingly endless road, leadimg in wide bends towards the horizon.
Occasionally the eye catches the ruins of a village, of houses, but whether they are still inhabited cannot be answered. No one is to be seen, no animals either, no yapping dogs following the bus. The houses just stand there, in the middle of a cold and forbidding area, surrounded by nothingness. And yet someone must have lived here at some time.
One looks for options, for chances of survival, and finds none.
And once again a Formula 1 race
The driver, a very young man, is once again one who feels like Lewis Hamilton and wants to show off his driving skills, especially by over-speeding.
So we shoot like maniacs through the countless curves, along deep canyons, and only when the climbs become steep the speed becomes more pleasing. The black clouds on the horizon quickly approach and it starts to rain again, but this does not diminish the speed rush of our Hamilton 2.0.
The plain of the lamas
On a plateau, greener than elsewhere, with small brooks and pools, llamas are grazing.
The grassland extends over many kilometers, and the animals stretch their heads into the grass. There must be hundreds, thousands of them. Sometimes it takes the impatient honking of the driver's horn to chase them off the road. It is a sight that is rare in our country. They can be found more and more often in Switzerland, but of course not in such numbers and as untamed herds.
I love these animals (spitting excluded), their graceful nature, their beauty, their unpretentiousness. Exactly the kind of animals you fall in love with at first sight. But life here at this altitude on the Altiplano is tough and for these creatures, too, a permanent struggle for survival. One wishes them all the best.
Then eventually the inevitable happens (or so you think afterwards): there is a violent bang, the bus is shaken for a moment.
What has happened seems clear. For a moment I get so angry that I curse loudly in Swiss German across the bus. It could be possible, of course, that the llama ran from the side directly into the bus, but the likelihood that the chauffeur simply didn't feel like braking is high, and the very thought of it brings a blush of anger to my face. Damn!
Later, the landscape turns browner, yellower, redder. Hills and snow-covered mountains stand out from the flat plains. But the looming clouds get again darker, a storm is coming. I hope it still catches us on the bus, the most beautiful thing I can imagine on long bus rides.
Uyuni
The rest of the journey passes in dull silence, which is only a little brightened when the distant houses of Uyuni Pop up.
It is a small town of barely 18'000 inhabitants, located in the middle of a plateau. It owes its sole existence to the nearby largest salt lake in the world, the Salar de Uyuni. I passed through here 1981 when there was still a train between the Atacama Desert in Chile and La Paz. An adventure that I have already described elsewhere.
The town itself is nothing like the previous ones. The streets are wide, dusty and mostly empty. So no buzzing lines of cars in front of red lights (there are those here, too, and all drivers obey them, even if no other vehicle is to be seen far and wide).
And something else stands out: it is a backpacker's paradise. I haven't seen so many young tourists in a long while. They all have come here to visit the amazing salt lake. Like me. But that's for tomorrow ...
Mileage: 3350
Matching Song: Grains of Sand - Going away baby
And here the journey continues ... to the salt lake of Uyuni
