Hanging out with my parasite in Bolivia.....

Biggest disappointment of the trip so far....I was booked to do a tour to go see the salt planes, a really amazing thing to do here in Bolivia, but couldnt face getting on the 15 hour overnight bus as I got really sick. I woke up having contractions. Recognising the symptoms as a stomach parasite (everyone gets them here), I knew I was going to be in a bad way until my parasite, a man in a top hat and tails tap dancing on my insides decided to stop. I bid a very weak farewell to my travel companions as they went to get the bus and I staggered to my new room, a sick haven all to myself so that I didnt have to share a dorm and subject strangers to my exercosim type behaviour as the parasite (a protestant) gave me his best moves. I spent that night writhing around in my own skin, unable to be comfortable in any position, my body buckling from the stomach up and levitating off the bed sometimes as much as three feet. My head even did a full 360 degree turn, it was madness.

Some of the above is exaggerated. I will leave it up to you to work out which part or parts (if any at all).

My Parasite...Bastard.

I need to work on my Spanish. I went into a shop the other day and asked where the nearest ATM was, the man behind the counter took out a stanley knife and pointed at it. Either I had just walked into a killers lair or I need to get out that phrase book.

Naomi and I actually paid good money to cycle down ´The Worlds Most Dangerous Road´. It is really ´The Worlds Most Dangerous Road´ and not just a tourist gimmick. There have been over 300 tourists killed on it in recent years, they have simply cycled off the edge to a 600 metre drop, enough to kill even the bounciest of people. None of the companies have been closed down and the most recent victim went with a company that is still open and recommended by the top guide books. I was a little nervous about signing up, mainly because I have learned after my sandboarding experience that the danger level of activites is greatly underestimated here. I asked the lady in the tour office if there had been any recent accidents on the tour. "No accidents," she told me with a smile. Here we go I thought, the Latino freedom of lying. "Deaths," she continued with a smile and slid a flat hand accross the air helpfully to illustrate as best as she could what a cyclist might look like soaring off the edge of a cliff.

True to form and as I was afraid of, Naomi and I were in the fast group (two of the only three females in it, we should have been born boys) and sped our way down the mountain as fast as we could without killing ourselves. It was pretty crazy though. In any other part of the world this road would be closed down, it certaintly wouldnt be a tourist attraction but I have to admit that it was FUN!

Death Road.

So, having spent the last few days on my own, I am now entirely sick of my own company. I don´t know how you people put up with me, even the parasite left after a brief argument, which I won´t go into. So, I´m now in the desert waiting to meet up with the others. The biggest news I have for them is that I think I was in the craziest toilet yet. On the night bus on the way here the toilet had a large window with no curtain and was all lit up. I went to use it when the bus was stopped at a traffic light, the street outside was full of locals selling stuff and looking in at me. I was totally exposed, it was like some weird Amsterdam window show for them. I couldn´t do it. That last sentence is a lie (I really needed to go).

I am now in the middle of nowhere, but in true typical backpacking style I have already seen three people I recognise, all doing the gringo trail like me. One of them in particular was someone I was hoping to avoid. I was in a bar in La Paz last week, everyone was hammered and he came over to ask me to smack him as hard as I could on the arse....jeans on. Of course I obliged, again and again and again. I´m not sure what either of us got out of it, but it was making Julie laugh, so I kept doing it. The guy smiled, perhaps a little too much and walked away. I ended up sitting next to him in an internet cafe this morning some 15 hours drive away from where I smacked him. I pretended not to see him of course.

I went for lunch earlier. The waitress was an 8 year old girl. I asked for lunch and was told no lunch only breakfast. I asked for coffee and was told no coffee, only tea. Asked for tea and was told they had no milk, also had no bread, no butter, no eggs. I basically had jam and water for lunch. I sat there and drank my water out of their "Worlds Best Grandma" mug and smiled feeling worthy of a mug I have not yet earned. Crazy, yes I know. I think the last few days alone have proved that solitude breeds the crazy in me.

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