more photos are finally up.

from the uyuni trip (more here):

and from san pedro de atacama (more here):

one of the great things about traveling is the opportunity to meet people you wouldn’t otherwise cross paths with. who live far away, or come from different backgrounds, who’re older or younger or speak a different language.

and one of the difficult things about traveling is meeting people you wouldn’t otherwise cross paths with, and knowing there is a good chance you won’t see these people again. when you meet, share experiences, develop a rapport… and then part ways. where if circumstances were different, you’d hope to become good friends, but because they live far away, have other plans, etc., the chance for relationships is over even before it begins.

that’s life, i know. but it still sucks.

we’ve spent the past week with a group of people we met through random chance. we were all on the same trip to uyuni, all happened to have similar post-uyuni itineraries, all shared in witnessing the same horrible accident and comforting each other after. in a word, we bonded. and it’s felt really good to be in good company. to talk, to laugh. you miss the companionship of friends when you’re on the road.

and now they go their way and we go ours. they left this morning while we stay behind. there are tentative plans to meet up in la paz or cuzco… but even well intentioned plans have a way of changing when you travel. i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t a little sad today because of that.

but that’s the nature of the adventure we’re all a part of. so you tuck the memories into the photo album, exchange email addresses, and hope for the best.

i guess what i’m trying to say is that if we don’t see you again, it’s been really good to share this small corner of the world with you. wishing you safe travels, adventures big and small, and “bon voyage” – good seeing good. whenever we think of bolivia, we’ll think of you.

con abrazos,
jen and jonno

(i need to preface this post by reassuring everyone that jonno and i are fine – what follows is pretty distressing, but we’re absolutely okay.)

we left uyuni by bus this morning, on the way to sucre, via potosi. uyuni is pretty much a podunk town, so after shopping around at the different transportation companies (which were all much of a muchness) we and several of our companions from the uyuni trip decided to go with the company with the nicest bus. it was pretty modern looking in comparison with the rest of the vehicles on offer, and we wanted to be comfortable. as we wound our way up and down the steep mountain roads, we read and dozed. we stopped for lunch. shortly after lunch, however, our tranquil little world was rocked. as we came around a curve into a wide plain area, we were confronted with a horrific scene of devastation.

a smaller bus lay overturned on its roof, crushed like a tin can. what at first glance appeared to be bundles of clothing strewn about, were in fact people thrown like limp rag dolls. adrenaline started pumping and my cpr courses started flashing through my head as we rushed to the scene. wailing and blood everywhere. jonno ran to the bus to see if there was anyone trapped inside, and i tried to see if there was anyone i could help.

it quickly became very clear that they were beyond my paltry knowledge of first aid.

there were people crumpled in heaps, people with brains coming out of their head, people crying out desperately for help amidst the scattered metal and luggage.

i couldn’t help the ones who were dead and i couldn’t help the ones who were alive. the ones who were dead had been killed instantly. the ones who were alive were broken to bits.

i’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. in the end, i am ashamed to say i was no help at all to anyone. and all i could think was that i wish my dad was here, he would know what to do. i stood like a lump and cried.

and at that point our friend recognised the bus as one we’d almost taken from uyuni that morning. that’s when i lost it.

there was confusion as to what to do. we were two hours from the nearest hospital. cell phones were useless. finally some of the men began carrying the injured towards the bus on blankets. survivors in shock began picking through the wreckage for their belongings and climbing aboard the bus with their bundles and bags. the four most critically injured were hoisted and dragged into the aisles, where they had to be stepped over. a little girl of about 10 stared wide-eyed, blood streaked across her face.

and two dead were left behind, covered with blankets, watched over only by a herd of llamas who continued to munch placidly beside the carnage. what else could we do?

with every bump of the road, the injured cried out in pain. moaning, asking for water, pleading for help. the rest of us sat in deathly silence.

so i prayed – not for my beliefs, but for theirs. i prayed the “our father” and the “23rd psalm”. i said “hail marys”. i prayed every catholic prayer i could recall.

the sign said 55 kms to potosi. as the distance dragged on, the bus grew progressively quieter.

a passing jeep was asked to send ahead for help, and an hour later we were met by an ambulance and a doctor. but he could do nothing more than administer morphine. one of the four was already gone.

we continued on towards the hospital. i became fixated on the woman in the aisle nearest me, who was twisting and moaning in spite of the morphine. her skirt was akimbo and all i could do was stare at her stockinged leg. the nylon had a tear in it and small droplets of blood were seeping through. she’d lost her shoes in the impact.

eventually her leg stopped moving, and her stockinged foot became still. i turned away.

we all sat on that bus, willing the distance to pass faster, studiously avoiding acknowledgement that we were now carrying two corpses.

after two torturous hours, we drew up to the hospital. there was more confusion, as the bus couldn’t fit through the gates. eventually stretchers were sent for, and the four carefully unloaded. the little girl was lead away after she tried to wake the woman whose foot had stopped moving.

the bloody fingerprints of a dying woman were dried on the side of the seat.

for a distance of 55 km, two more lives were lost.

and then we were left at the bus station. left to grieve for the tragedy we’d witnessed and the people who never made it to potosi. left to ponder why we were alive, and they were not. left to wonder at our incredible luck at having access to mediflight choppers, and the best medical care in the world only minutes away from our houses. left to suffer the guilt at taking that for granted. left shaken, drained, confused.

what do you do after something like that?

in the end, we simply continued on – because we could. we took comfort in friends and familiarity. we ate and drank and stuck together, drawing strength from each other in the face of the somber reality. life is precious. and although it wasn’t us, it could have been.

there but for the grace of god, go i. or you. or any of us.

so if you’re spiritual, please say a little prayer. and if you’re not, please think a good thought.

for the dead – and for the living.

along this trip, we’ve done several things which fall into the “once in a lifetime” category. but even amongst those incredible experiences, our four day trip from chile to bolivia was unforgettably unique.

the trip began inauspiciously with a half day wasted at the chilean border, waiting for the officials to decide whether or not to open the mountain pass (previously closed due to snow). after much “will they/won’t they” we finally got underway, the group climbing high into the mountains to the one-room hut which served as the bolivian immigration department. after the formalities, we crowded all 13 of us into 4×4 landcruisers, strapped our bags and food to the top, and the expedition began in earnest.

the landscape is indescribably intense. startling colours which appear out of nowhere – green white and red lagoons. barren stretches of rocky plains give way to bright yellow scrub and white snow dotted hills. violent grey and lemon sulfured fumaroels hiss and spit. neon pink flamingoes are incongruous at 4500 meters, wading serenly against blood red waters and white islands in the shadow of ancient violet volcanoes.

we clamber around in the cold, taking photos with wind chapped cheeks and gloved fingers. there is a welcome respite in thermal hot springs, only to be followed by the bitter sting of biting winds hitting warm wet skin. the nights are colder, warmed only by wine, energetic card games and layer upon layer of blankets.

there are altititude headaches and multiple cups of coca leaf tea (the locals remedy). accomodation is spartan. we are cold and uncomfortable much of the time.

yet every morning we awake to brilliant clear sun and crystal skies. there is comraderie and a sense of adventure which carries us through. we are privy to visions most people see only in dreams. and we know it.

on the third day we roll through more multicoloured lagoons and eerie windscaped stone forests. there are llamas and foxes sxattered through the hillls, eeeking out their meagre existence amongst the dry grasses and parched earth. more flocks of seagulls, theor rosy shapes awkwardly graceful in flight. we descend to the empty lake bottoms, the long dried beds dusted with salt crystals. we spend the evening in a hotel made wholly from solid salt, like a rough-hewn crystal palace.

and then on day four, we’re up before dawn to catch the rosy hues of first sun rising over the salt plains. as the sun climbs higher in the sky, the endless salt pans change personality – from the cold pebbly white of opaque ice, to the hallucinogenic glare of dizzying white-on-white like a blinding snowfield from the antarctic. holographic effects, mirages and infinity illusions create a surreal scene right out of a dali painting. it is vast and pure and stretches out to meet the cerulean sky in a perfect horizon. spectacular constrasts dazzle the eye, incomprehensible tricks of the light. it’s unreal, unlike any other earthly landscape. we’re like children, playing with photos, dancing, lying down to make salt angels.

and then, finally, we arrive in uyuni, where the altiplano adventure ends. it’s a bleak return to civilisation after days spent wandering in the wilderness. some friends leave, some travel on with us to our next stop. but even if we never meet again, we’ve shared the unique wonderment of an experience that will never leave us.

not all the photos are up yet, but here’s a few

happy birthday to my darling sister catalina…

who almost never lets me take her pic

love you lots and lots… hope you have a great day.
jen

a big first long-distance birthday smooch to my little piper-bean…

from your auntie jen, who loves you way too much, and misses you even more.

we’re here in the driest desert on earth. i’d forgotten how otherworldly deserts can be. vast expanses of flat. shimmering mirage oases that dance at the horizon, tantalising. dunes and valleys, a palette of pastels and earth tones. deep purples and light greens highlighted against blue blue sky. shadows and light hide in crags and crevices, creating landscapes from another planet. the blinding light of salt crystals and the cracked floodpans, opening their mouths in anticipation. it’s unbelievable that this place could sustain life. yet here the residents of san pedro de atacama thrive.

welcome to mars.

(i have some amazing photos to go with this post. sadly, the internet connection in san pedro de atacama is from the dark ages, so they’ll have to wait. tomorrow we *hopefully* head for bolivia [a 3 day journey by jeep], although the mountain pass has been closed up to today due to snow, so fingers crossed!)

we’re on a long bus journey to the north of chile. i don’t know what it is about long bus journeys that makes me so contemplative, but they do. there are cactii and cliffs rolling past, and suddenly a music video on the “in flight entertainment” reminds me of watching “the long way round” shortly before our departure. it seems like yesterday, and it seems like a lifetime ago.

the purpose of this trip was never to try to “find myself”. after thirty some odd years, i have a pretty good handle on who i am. yet i suppose it’s inevitable that when undertaking a trip of this type, you learn a few insights along the way. stuff about who you are, the nature of humanity, the nature of life. new experiences and challenges have a way of teaching you something, in spite of yourself.

there are people who subscribe to the belief that those who live in underdeveloped countries, who have less or lead “simpler” lives, are somehow happier. purer. or, alternatively, that they lead lives of quiet desperation. i’ve found i don’t believe either of those to be true. based on my experience, i think they lead lives just like everyone else, and the only difference is the scale. they don’t sit around pining for a western way of life. what they see on tv is so far removed from their daily reality, that it might as well be science fiction. so in much the same way that my happiness is not tied to the fact that i can’t live like a hollywood megamogul, they don’t lay awake at night because they don’t have the apartment from friends. like most everywhere, life doesn’t let you spend too much time wanting that which is far out of reach. instead, they want things like healthier children, better schools, the ability to provide for their family. same things, different scale. there’s really not so much that separates my life from theirs except scale. people are not happy or unhappy based on how much or how little they have. they are happy or unhappy based on how achievable their dreams for their family are. everywhere you go, it’s always the same.

i was worried that this trip would make me feel old. after all, i’m roughly 10 years ahead of your average backpacker. not everything is as fresh or new or exciting to a thirty-something as it is to someone just out of university. and part of that is true. i had no desire to join the hoardes getting wasted in bangkok on a friday night like it’s mardigras, and my patience for those who did was definitely thin. yet there were advantages to being a bit older and wiser that i hadn’t counted on. like a greater appreciation for the sights and opportunities. like being able to rent a car. like being taken seriously, and not targeted for scams. like not losing your passport because you’re out clubbing and too drunk to keep track of your bag. and the best part has been the inspiration of seeing others older than myself who are still travelling. people with grey hair and well worn passports who still get a thrill out of life on the road. people with a lifetime of stories that i can only aspire to. i hope that’s me someday (without the grey hair, of course.)

this trip has also brought me further out of my shell. i am, by nature, a very shy person (yes, really) and left to my druthers, i’d be a quiet observer on the side. but travelling just doesn’t allow for much of that. you want to eat? you’re going to have to find someplace to go, figure out how to ask for what you want to order, etc. etc. etc. at almost every point in the day, travelling requires you to decide, interact, and do. periods of “coasting” are few and far between… and that’s not really what you signed up for anyway. you can “coast” for free from your living room sofa. if you want adventure, you’re going to have to go out and find it.

quiet observers do not have adventures.

so there has been understanding, and wisdom and adventure – and there has been renewal. a renewed appreciation for all things wild and wonderful, bright and beautiful. renewed belief in the possibilities of kindness and future. renewed hope for happy endings and goodness. a lightness of heart and optimism which i have missed. it’s so easy to fall into thinking the world is going to hell in a handbasket.

my eyes and heart tell me differently these days.

there has been all this and much more. and even if i never set out to “find myself”, i have tripped over these things along the way. pedazos de corazon, just waiting to be discovered.

to nicola and ben on the arrival of jasmine rose. she’s a beauty.

well you know what they say about the best laid plans… we didn’t manage to get today’s bus to san pedro de atacama, so we’re chillin’ like a villain in santiago for another 24 hours. rest up, get a hot shower, then catch tomorrow’s ride.

but what that did mean was that i got to head over to dunkin donuts for a real boston creme donut. haven’t had one of those bad boys in prolly a year. something about the sweet custard filling, crispy sugared pastry and chocolate coating took the edge off my irritation at our foiled schedule. (sadly, the coffee left much to be desired… but nevermind.)

sometimes, it’s the little things.