Late morning I visited the local museum famous for having the mummies best preserved in the world. 3 kids buried alive during the Inca time, at the top of a dormant Vulcan on more than 5700 meters. The climatic conditions, including the temperature, the low pressure and the type of terrain have helped to preserve in such a perfect way the bodies. I had a pizza at the local restaurant nearby the main square and then took a taxi to the bus station. The bus to Mendoza left around 15.30pm and this was among the longest journey by bus so far. 19 hours. Everything has been aggravated by a car accident that unfortunately we had with the bus on the way to Tucuman. Nobody was injured and this was the most important thing. We were stuck in the middle of an immense field for approximately 3 hours which makes this one the longest journey so far on the bus. In moments like these ones, all alone with my own thoughts and with a long journey ahead without contacts with the people I care, I feel a bit lonely. This huge green field touched by the wind and nothing else around if not waiting patiently. I think about the people I love and I wish I were not alone but with them. It is one of the few moments so far I feel alone. But having these kind of feelings is also part of this journey. The ability to cope with solitude and tiredness, and with the sometimes too many thoughts that are flying around in my head. I am here in the bus now, we have just started moving again. It is dark and the TV is showing the same 3 movies over and over again. I should reach Mendoza tomorrow mid-day now. Well, I have nothing else but wait to reach the next destination. I will try to sleep, but I doubt I will manage to. We’ll see.
Sunday 31 October 2010
Day 60 - Salta
I spent the day in Salta and the most resting during the afternoon. The city is pretty with a special Latin vibe and lots of people enjoying the local beer sitting in big nice squares talking about everything or simply enjoying the sightseeing of other people and tourists walking by. The night was pleasant, with the best and largest steak I have probably ever eaten in my whole life. I went to bed pretty early with a good sense of satisfaction and the most a very full stomach.
Friday 29 October 2010
Day 59 – San Pedro de Atacama – Salta (and some personal considerations)
The morning started very early. I woke up happy and with the best intentions. You know when you want to express all your feelings like if it is going to be ‘now or never’! Unfortunately for several reasons it didn’t go that way. I am now feeling pretty drained and it is only 10.30am. During the time of writing, I am now in the bus and it is very comfortable, which considering the last 4 buses I have taken, it is a great thing. I am crossing the Chilean desert at the moment getting into Argentina. I hope I will arrive in Salta as per schedule around 8pm. In a way it is very good to be here now, in a long journey by bus on my own looking outside, writing at the same time and relaxing. The landscape is always overwhelming: little lamas running around and chasing the bus while the sun shines on the white and red stones and sand. It is always a great scenario to watch, something I think you never really get tired of. I reached Salta around 9.30 pm and with a guy I met in my tour in Uyuni we found a cheap and decent hostel in downtown of the city. We left immediately after saving our bags in the room going to some local restaurant. We found one which reminded me when I was little in Rome... Similar host and venue with very good food. I was finally feeling in a very familiar environment. We ate and we continued walking toward the area with the bars and clubs. We had a local beer in front of a good tango exhibition and we headed back home around 2.30am. It was the first time in long time (Sydney I guess) that I finally didn’t have a proper night out like in the past. It was an unexpected pleasant evening.
I have time to recollect my thoughts and feelings, and also to think about many other different things. I found it very curious and very sad on how lots of people that are to me simple friends, people that I do not really talk to very often and do not share many things when I am back home, are the ones that know everything about my experience, about my travelling, that know where I am and what I am doing, always being present and curious in such an incredible and surprising way. On the contrary, unfortunately, some of the people that I thought were the closest to me and that apparently constantly claim they know me very well, are not ‘really here with me’. I feel them very far away; they do not really even know what I am doing or where I am; the few time they ask about my plan, the impression they give is that they are asking more as a form of politeness, of showing to me that ‘they care’ but without really showing a proper and genuine interest for what I am doing right now, for what I am feeling, and for what I might have gone through so far, sometimes even dismissing it with some superficial irony throwing themselves back into their own thoughts and activities after few minutes. I obviously do not expect anything considering that everyone has got his/her own busy life but from some few people I expected much more. If I hadn’t known them, I would have thought that they were even a bit envious of what I am doing. At the time of writing I feel genuinely fine: these few lines here are more the result of a serene thinking rather than words of anger or dissatisfaction.
I think, as I always keep repeating to myself, that this trip is probably not only about discovering a part of the world and a part of myself, but it is, as well, the best test to revaluate the people around me. I know I will have new close friends after this experience, but unfortunately at the same time, I guess (and I hope to be wrong) that with some of the closest ones it won’t be the same anymore. I might have been very naive and definitely a fool to think that three and half months were overall a short time, too short to ‘loose’ important people or for them to change somehow their feelings or behaviour simply because they have other things to do, or even worse, because they have met ‘new people’ while I was away... It did already happened once to me in the past and I can foresee, based on experience, that this is probably going to happen again in the very close future most likely even before I will go back home. I hope to be very wrong...
Faithfulness, in friendship as per in love, is unfortunately something extremely rare.
Day 58 – Geysers, Laguna Verde and San Pedro de Atacama
I woke up around 4.30am. I did sleep fully dressed because of the cold on one of the most uncomfortable bed since the beginning of this journey. Strangely enough though I wasn’t feeling too tired. We left the dormitory around 5.15am to reach an amazing formation of geysers half an hour later. We were on an altitude of 5100 metres and the temperature was almost reaching the freezing level. The steam of the geysers was not really enough to warm up the atmosphere and the smell coming from them wasn’t either what I call a refine French perfume. Minerals of all sorts where boiling in pond of melting rocks; nature can sometimes display all its power in such amazing ways. Not too far away from there, there was a semi natural pool for bathing in the thermal waters. Some managed to get their clothes off in that cold and jump in. I personally for once, preferred to sit and enjoy the steam sitting on a chair by the border of the pool.
We continued our journey to visit the Dali Desert (called like this because it resembles one of the paintings of the famous artist) and the Laguna Verde (Green Lagoon) with its amazing effects of changing colour (into green) of its waters once the sun and the wind appear together. Another amazing landscape in a place which seems forgotten by God.
Around 9.30am we reached the frontier with Chile. It was time to say goodbye to Francesca. I felt quite sad of leaving such a genuine and sparkling person, full of life, laughs and smiles, with an incredible addiction to my sense of humour. But this is the game of this kind of journey: you meet people, you share a lot in such a small amount of time and then you are forced to say goodbye. But as per Raul before, I have found a true new friend.
We reached Chile and San Pedro de Atacama around midday. Together with Shudip we found a very nice hotel and we decided to share a room to cut the expenses. The room was comfortable, clean, with Wi-Fi and a nice patio outside the room. San Pedro has got good infrastructure, considering that it is a proper town for tourists. I left the room around lunchtime even if I really wanted to get some rest and a good shower. I thought it might have been better to see if there were some tours or excursion to do while I was there and take my time worth. I realized, as I expected, that the tours were pretty similar to what I had already experienced in my last 3 days. The surroundings are pretty similar to the Bolivian one, considering that this land belonged to Bolivia until the end of the last century. I heard however that the Valle de la Luna (moon valley) was worthy a half a day tour. So I decided to book my bus for Argentina, buy some food for the journey and book the mini tour for the afternoon. I didn’t have much time to rest and around 4pm I went to the bus stop where the tour started. It was a very nice little journey around San Pedro with breathtaking images of the desert; this time the desert was formed more of pure sands rather than rocks. Pink sunset and steep Canyon were the best last images of this breathtaking nature that I could have ever had.
I returned around 8.30pm. I was tired. It had been a very long day. I met Shudip and few friends for dinner and then quickly back to the hotel. I was alone. A good shower and packing. I really felt I wanted to talk to a friendly voice to tell everything I had seen, especially about the ‘ghosts’ of Potosi. I had a bomb inside me ready to explode if I hadn’t let it out. Unfortunately it was too late to make any phone calls.
I felt my eyes closing so I thought that I would have hit the pillow for a dreamless sleep. And I was right.
Day 56 – 57 – Uyuni – Salar, Isla de Incawasu
We woke up around 7am in the morning and together with a British/Indian guy, Shudip, whom I met briefly in Copacabana (and again here in Uyuni), we found what we thought it was a good agency with a good compromise cost and benefit. The tour started at 10.30am and in a jeep of 8 people including a woman who was the cook and the driver. We were in a group of 3 cars, with approximately with approximately a total of 15 people.
I am not going to describe all the places we have visited, but I can definitely say it was an amazing experience to see how vast, immense and strong the nature is. Immense valleys, a lake of salt large almost like 2/3 of Belgium, deserts, and multicoloured lagoons with lots of pink and white flamingos which lazily fish in the shallow water. It was a great break from the horror of Potosi and a perfect way to get in touch again with the nature. The climate was extreme, even more than in Australia: we reached altitudes of 5500 metres with hot sun and spending nights in basic bunk beds with a temperature of almost zero degrees. It was at the same time good fun, with the 3 of us, Francesca, Shudip and me, having a proper blast and great time.
We are now in the national park, sleeping in a basic accommodation waiting for the sun to go down and going to bed. The little generator here shuts down at 9pm. After that, there will be nothing but cold and darkness, so I will be better be ready and being already in bed when it is going to happen. It is so cold though. I will probably sleep fully dressed. It is better being a bit uncomfortable and not suffering the cold I think. Let’s hope in few good hours sleep...
Day 55 – Sucre – Uyuni
The morning was spent in Sucre fortunately in a much better mood than the night before thanks also to a proper deep sleep. Francesca and I decided to have a great and long breakfast and to let the sunshine and the warmth of the day to put our mood in the right direction. Sucre was very pretty and pleasant. We walk around the market discovering foods, cheeses, vegetables and all sorts of meat. Around lunchtime we headed back to the bus station to catch the bus back to Potosi and from there, around 6.30pm the bus to Uyuni. I was happy to share the trip to somebody else like her. She was such a positive and full of energy girl. We arrived around midnight and the city looked like a proper ghost town. We managed in the middle of the night and with few ugly dogs around to find a cheap and super basic hostel for the night. We did sleep immediately in order to look for a good tour in the morning.
Day 54 – Potosi - Sucre
Day 54 will be the day that I will always remember in years to come.
I arrived in Potosi around 5.30am. It was definitely the worst journey I had so far. The temperature was almost touching the freezing point inside the bus and no matter the number of blankets I had, I couldn’t close my eyes because of the cold. A proper torture. The bus arrived earlier and I had to stick around in town for a while in the cold before anything decent was going to open to get a hot beverage. I was sitting alone in the park when a man who looked like an homeless approached me asking if he could sit next to me in the bench. It was talking mix of Castellan and old Inca language but we understood quite well. He just needed somebody to talk to. He was living alone in the outback, after his family left him to look for better fortune in the big cities. His mouth was still green from the coca leaves and his shoes where so destroyed to look like flip-flops. He asked me a little bit about my life and where for work I was travelling to. I suddenly was myself embarrassed and speechless. He didn’t have the concept of travelling just for travelling. I didn’t know what to answer and I just cut the subject short asking him other questions. He was a lost and lonely man. His hands, his wrinkles and his clothes, were the witnesses of a hard worker which didn’t managed to put his life and the ones of his family in the right way. There was so much sadness in this man. I opened my bag and gave him my last chocolate cookies. He was silent and started eating them. I can see that picture in my eyes now: an empty park during dawn, me and this man sitting next to each other on a bench just looking in front of us in silence. There wasn’t much more to say. Silence in that circumstance was probably the best speech.
I left the old man after few interminable minutes and I went to the market which was about to open. I sat on a little table with a couple of people whom where there before going to work. We started a good conversation about Bolivia, the Bolivians and the poverty among the people of the town of Potosi. That was for me the real essence of travelling. I was drinking coca with locals, talking about their lives and the reality of a forgotten world. The miners of Potosi. One of the many open veins of South America. It was finally eight o’clock. I left my little crew and I went to the meeting before going to the mine. After almost 1 hour, I was part of a group of approximately 10 people who wished to go to the mine. A constant reminder was that this was a real thing. Not a museum. We stopped to change clothes and to buy some coca leaves and beverages to offer to the workers. The funny thing is the total absence of security. We could (and we actually did) buy dynamite freely directly in sort of mini market. Basically, rather than going to buy a box of Pringles, in case you forget you can also buy some dynamite. Crazy.
We moved quickly to see where they usually refine the minerals which are extracted from the mountain and then we finally approached the main entrance. This was the original one built by the Spanish during the XVII century. As soon as we entered the air was full of dust. I put a big handkerchief in front of my face and I continued. The mountain has been excavated in many different directions and in many different levels. My kind of guide, Oscar, was an ex-miner and new that place very well. I continued to walk for at least 30 minutes. Suddenly it was time to go a level down: the hole was extremely tiny and dark and I could feel that the oxygen was gradually missing. The fact that my face was covered was also something that really didn’t help me to breathe, but at the same time I didn’t really want to inspire that amount of dust and chemicals. I crawled for 30 minutes, at least, trying to moving forward with the help of my knees and elbows. I felt like I was outside my body... the more I was going down, the more the hole was getting small, the darker it was getting and everything else was illuminated only by the torch that was applied on the top of my helmet. This wasn’t definitely a museum. The people there didn’t really bother of my presence and every now and then I could hear dynamite exploding in some remote place of the mountain. 
I was feeling sick. I am glad I do not suffer of claustrophobia otherwise I would have never been able to leave that place on my feet. Generally people are taken down until the second floor, but we went down to the fourth, in the heart of the mountain, where some miners where still working. I was together with two very brave girls and our ‘guide’. We did help each other out, but I consciously knew that if something would have happened to them, I wasn’t really able to help them. I barely felt the energy to crawl and to breathe for myself... I had my mouth full of coca, as it is supposed to regulate your respiration and alleviate the sense of fatigue. I do not really know how we managed to reach the fourth level, but we did. A little chamber was opening in front of me which allowed me to finally sit down and not walking on my knees all the time. It was that moment that I saw it. Three kids of 9, 11 and 13 years old with their face fully white and black of dust, sitting all around a destroyed digging machine. I couldn’t really see everybody in the room, but my Oscar knocked my shoulder and pointed at a slightly distant figure next to the three kids. He was their father. And he was crying. He was desperate. A part of his machine was stolen and they were not able to work anymore. 5 months have gone without finding anything, without earning anything, spending day and night in that hell to reach the end with a stolen machine. His desperation was immense mixed with anger and a huge sense of defeat. Not for him but for his children. The eyes of those three children were lost. They keep staring at their father and the father was there looking at them crying.
And I was there. In the heart of the mountain with Oscar and the other two girls to witness a scene that I will never forget. The children had nothing with them, no clothes because the temperature was too hot, and only some coca leaves to chew. They kept looking at the father and then to us. The father and then us again. I felt useless. I was petrified, more for the overwhelming situation rather than for the tired legs and aching body. The desperation of the father was also in my opinion given by the total absence of future he could see for his children. He must have seen them in the near future, living a life like his, and maybe ending with the same result. Nothing. The average of miners die after 15 years because of the fumes, the alcohol and the accidents in the mines. What kind of future have those kids?
It is an unfair world. There is too much discrepancy between the rich and the poor. Too much exploitation of land and resources from the rich countries and their companies over the poor ones. And this discrepancy is constantly enlarging. The ‘open vein ‘ of South America is not the only one. Africa, Asia and India are witnessing the same destruction. There is too much poverty and misery. And the most unacceptable thing is that children are involved in this disaster. But they didn’t ask for that: ghosts of their own souls, they are dead even before start living. We do not need to go to a mine to realize this. This discrepancy is happening every time in many different circumstances and environments. We continue living our life in our civilized world, with our problems and our pleasures ignoring or pretending to ignore that there is a huge ‘underworld’ that lives and dies with us and also thanks to which we have what we have. We do not want to see it. It is too ugly, too real and too shocking to accept it. We close the eyes of our children with one hand, thinking that it would resolve the problem and we continue walking.
I cowardly wanted to leave that place. I wanted to run up and away in the open air. At the contrary I did stay and I couldn’t stop staring at the eyes and the expression of those kids. I have never seen anything like this before, not even in Africa, although I am sure that it can be widely spread throughout the continent.
We left our ‘little help’ of beverages and coca to finally leave the cave. Silence was all over. It took me 2 hours to go to the bottom and now I had to go back via the same way. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t talk. And I couldn’t move. The hole was suddenly getting much smaller, too small. Maybe it was me getting swollen and big, but I had to leave and I had to leave quickly. Oscar helped me to sneak out a little hole to continue on the way out. I took a break freeing my face and breathing deeply. I could feel the dust entering in my lungs but I couldn’t do otherwise. I waited for the 2 girls and we all managed after an incredible climb to reach the first level. I could finally walk again. I do not know I long I did walk.. I was spaced out with a light feeling of drunkenness. Finally the light came. Finally we were out. We went back to town, without saying a word. Both because of the dust in our lungs and also for the shock. I tried to distract myself visiting the town, but my legs were abandoning me. I decided to jump back on a bus and go to Sucre. Apparently one of the nicest towns in Bolivia, Sucre mixes colonial and original style in a very pleasant and modern way. I was wondering with myself if I was running away from that place. I met one of the girls who were with me in the mine. I finally knew her name: Francesca. Swiss girl with an excellent Spanish and German was waiting for the bus together with me. We went to Sucre together trying to know each other but carefully avoiding the subject of the mines. I could read in her eyes the same feelings I had. We reached Sucre at night and we went looking for a good hotel. We finally found one, managed by a Swiss guy that apparently was from the same little town where she grew up. A long shower couldn’t unfortunately wash away the smell of silicates and minerals from my skin. It was almost like a joke. A nice little invisible present of the underworld to remind me that even if I left and I was in a nice hotel now, what I saw was very real.
We went to a nice restaurant. Dinner was excellent and we ended up sharing a good bottle of red tasty wine. Around 11pm we headed back to the hotel. We said goodbye and I went to my room.
I went to bed feeling physically exhausted, mentally drained and psychologically shocked. I was on my bed trying to concentrate on something else. I found tears coming out of my eyes while in silent I was looking at the ceiling of the bedroom. Those eyes... Those eyes were everywhere. The more I was trying to concentrate to something else the more I could see them staring at me in the semi-darkness of the room. I will never forget what happened today. The tears of the father and the empty expressions of his 3 children. I think that neither words nor pictures are able to tell and to explain what I have experienced during those 3 bloody long hours. Desperation of walking-dead souls with nothing left if not empty hopes of a short future; souls that will disappear without anyone to cry for them. Hopeless parents unable to give a better future to their children. Children who didn’t ask for that life. Children who do deserve a decent, normal life and that do not know anything else but poverty, pain and literally a dark, smelly hole. A stolen youth which will never come back and a future even darker than the hell where they live.
Few days after these events I was told, in a completely different situation and context, that I should have considered myself a lucky man.
Yes. I am lucky. I am incredibly lucky, and I am grateful to have the life I am having, for the parents I have and all the sacrifices they made to let me have such a beautiful youth.
And most of all, I am very happy to be finally fully conscious about it.
TWIMO
Saturday 23 October 2010
Day 52 - 53 - La Paz
A very calm day to recharge the batteries. It was excellent. The day after, I managed to book a double tour to the Moon Valley outside the city and another one to discover all the best areas of La Paz. It did start around 13.30 and finished around 17. Before doing the tour though, I booked my ticket for Potosi. The bus will leave around 8.30pm and will drop me there at 6.30am. I will take a tour inside the mines which it's going to be an incredible experience. From there I will probably go to Sucre, spend the afternoon and night there, then back to Potosi and finally to Uyuni. I should be there on Monday morning tight to start the 3 days in the Salar, tour which I have booked yesterday.
TWIMO
Thursday 21 October 2010
Day 51 – Puno – La Paz
I left the hotel at 7am after eating some cookies in my room. The bus, a very old one probably from the 70s, was waiting for departure. The journey started but we were forced to stop after approximately 1 hour because the engine of the old bus died. It is the first time anything like this happened since the beginning of my trip, but I guess I should have expected that it would have happened once, sooner or later. Fortunately after half an hour a new replacement arrived and we all continued out journey to the border city of Copacabana. After few formalities in a really small and underdeveloped frontier office, we started another 3 hours journey heading to La Paz. No major things happened and both the environment and the Bolivian people make you feel like you are still in Peru.
I met a very nice and easy going South African couple and an English guy in Copacabana on the bus and we are all pretty much doing the same journey, so hopefully there is a high chance we can all share some times together during our long journey throughout South America.
I arrived in La Paz around 17.30 and went straight to the hotel. The place is great, clean, central with polite stuff and it is very cheap with a great view from the last floor where is the dining room. I went for a very good dinner not too far from here and decided to go to bed so that I can enjoy the next day without being so tired as I am right now.
The first impression of La Paz is pretty good, crazy town in a way but with plenty of things to discover. Bolivia is poorer than Peru though, and this can be seen not only in the general status of the infrastructure, but also from the quality of shops and restaurants in town.
I am very curious to discover more the next few days.
Day 50 – Puno (Titicaca Lake and Floating Village)
The day started at 6am. I went downstairs to have breakfast which was composed but a piece of old bread with jam, and instant coffee in a tea bag. Not really the kind of breakfast you are dreaming of when you are hungry. Fortunately I had some tasty cookie with me which worked pretty well. The bus arrived very punctual and after collecting approximately other 20 people, mostly South Americans, we arrived to the port. The boat was nice and clean, perfect I would say for the kind of tour we were about to begin. The tour was to visit the floating village off the Coast of Titicaca Lake and from there to go and visit one of the main island of the lake. The Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world and with more than 3800 metres, it is definitely something special. Unfortunately this time I must confess the lake was the only thing very special: after visiting the village and its very kind people, everything else was pretty normal, I would say maybe very touristy. However I had a great lunch at 4000m in the island watching the lake with really funny and friendly people mostly composed by Venezuelans and Argentineans. The boat journey on the way back to Puno was long, approximately 3 hours, which I used to sleep a little bit, drinking some mate de coca and to chat with people in the group with a wonderful view of the lake all around. Tonight I will try to go to bed early since tomorrow my trip to Bolivia will start at 6am again.
I am leaving Peru with a little sense of sadness. I will always remember this country and its people and I am sure I will come back one day. The food, the colours, the history, the folklore, the culture and the nature make Peru a unique place worthy coming back several times. The people here have a dignity and a behaviour that I have only seen in Japan, Vietnam and few other countries probably. Even sometimes in their poverty, they are ‘givers’. People that are so altruistic and friendly often thinking and caring about their guests, friends and beloved ones (and the way to make them feel better) is a unique quality which unfortunately I experienced very difficult to find elsewhere. Considering that unfortunately there are so many egoist people, self absorbed sometimes by their own thoughts and small petty problems, this experience is definitely something that strikes me and that I am not used to. So far all the people I met in this journey, including all the friends that hosted me and helped me, have been amongst the most generous persons I have ever met.
Mio querido Peru, I will miss you very much.
Day 49 – Cuzco - Puno
I left Cusco around 7.30 am to go toward the central terminal of the buses. Karina came with me to arrange some other tours, and after a brief goodbye I was already on my way. The journey this time was extremely pleasant. The bus was comfortable and displaying a couple of good movies. But the best part was the surroundings. The bus was basically crossing part of the Andes in an environment which somehow reminded me a lunar ambient and the Alps in Italy. It was great, also to get glimpses of the local people in such small houses in the middle of nowhere. Glimpses of their life which camera couldn’t capture. A mum breastfeeding her little Peruvian baby in the middle of this desolate land, sitting on the floor next to her little house while the man was planting few hundred metres away plants that I recognized to be maiz (corn). The bus was distant, but the only road crossing this desolate land and the mountains all around allowed me to capture glimpses of their everyday life. It was amazing. I will always remember these images. I reached Puno around 15.30 and Karina’s friend Caesar was waiting for me. He was a big man, definitely bigger for Peruvian standards and with a big illuminating smile. He,
as many people here in South America, spoke a bit of Italian and was just waiting for the occasion to practice a little bit with me. As it always happen in these circumstances, we ended up talking what I refer as ITANISH, a mix of Italian and Spanish. I had the afternoon free and started mingling around the little town. I visited a small museum, but a little jewel in its kind: the museum of the Coca. Coca is considered almost a divine present from the Gods here in Peru, and the museum showed even more the strong link between the indigenous people and this amazing plant thanks to many panels full of pictures and explanations and interesting facts. I left the museum extremely hungry since I realized I didn’t really have lunch during the day. I stop at a good ‘polleria’ (chicken place) to get a super tasty grilled chicken with tomatoes and salad. Left the restaurant, I stopped to buy some stuff in the supermarket and finally back to the room of the hotel where I felt asleep around 11pm.
Day 48 – Cuzco
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