Bolivia: Salt Desert Rave, Pink Flamingoes, SUV Caravan

Bolivia seems to be the place to visit amongst more adventurous travelers to South America - It's dirt cheap, chockfull of natural wonders and edgy with lots of surprises (it's best not to stick to a tight schedule).

It's where Fidel Castro grassroots populism meets the altiplano.

Crossing into Bolivia was quite the contrast from leaving the frontier town of San Pedro, Chile where I'd already spent two days (but going back there from Bolivia so more on that later). The Bolivian customs house was a mudshack from which travelers spilled out into the dusty space outside.

After clearing Bolivian customs travelers climb into an armada of SUVs with Bolivian plates - maybe 15 or so Toyota Land Cruisers.

In the four days of crisscrossing the high altitude plains in Southern Bolivia we saw multicolored lagoons populated with hundreds of pink flamingoes, (against the backdrop of the snow-capped Andes), a cool train cemetery (relics from a thriving 19c saltpeter mining industry) and goofed around for photos in an otherworldly 12,000 sq. km. salt desert where we found a mini-Burning Man party (complete with techno DJ, miles of dreadlocks, psychedelic-colored magic buses/campers) in full swing at high noon.

Accommodations were at very spartan refugios (or more aptly, "shelters"... four walls, a roof and a bed) sometimes with no showers. One night, temperatures reached minus 6C/21F at an altitude of about 4200 mts. Everyone slept in every piece of clothing packed, complained of nausea and throbbing headaches throughout the night.

Needless to say, there wasn't much conversation the next day.

Roads ranged from poor (certainly not paved) to non-existent: the drivers knew which potholes to clear and which flooded ponds to cross, often going at top speed on sandy roads which offer little or no traction. Mishaps: a blown out tire, a busted tail light from overtaking and cutting off another jeep on a dirt road at 5am.

I've also never been to a country where petty paperwork was so important. Lose a fragile park entry stub and pay double (already $30 upon entering) when you leave. There are constant checkpoints and vehicle rosters to be cleared. (Took a photo of a sentry guard sitting inside a container-cum-office. Photo attached. Before I forget, apologies for not labeling the photos. I'm using a very rudimentary iPhone app which doesn't allow it - much to my frustration. But hopefully you'll be able to at least get a feel for the experiences and guess what they're about. I'm now sitting in a doorknob-less room in a refugio, but at least there's a light bulb on and I don't have to share anything with anyone - at least for tonight.)

Food? All prepared at the refugios -simple but healthful and tasty vegetable soups, llama chops (they claimed it was beef but we saw not a single cow in almost 500 kms. whereas llamas are as common as chickens are in a Tyson poultry processing plant) and the creamiest mashed potatoes I've had anywhere. One Brit even wondered if it was packaged because it was so creamy.

The companeros: the usual Eurozone mix with the odd Asian or two (myself included). Got along best with the Latins - Italians & Spaniards. Weirdest question so far (from a Brit): "It must be hot where you come from?" I did not "go there".