We got along so well with Manuel that we were invited to join him (for an offer of gas money) to Sucre the next town about 10 hours up further into the Cordilleras. A real genuine person and a gentle spirit we were blessed that our paths had crossed. Driving along he all of a sudden saw a small brown arrow showing ‘La Ruta del Che’ – the route of Che. Veering off we embarked on a grand adventure for 6 days through some of the worst roads to date. Che Ernesto Guevara is an icon for change and revolution worldwide. (see his history on our page on C*ba). Che is either loved or hated. Idolized as a hero or despised as a murderer. After helping win the revolution in Cuba he wanted to spread his idealism further, ridding S. America from the imperialism of the U.S. and control by the C.I.A. in the political arena. Born in Argentina he thought hiding away in the mountains of Bolivia would be the perfect base for guerilla training. His plan was wrought with failure as he had bitten off more than he could chew. He and his small army worked their way through these remote mountains until he was cornered, captured, and executed in a small schoolhouse in La Higuera. His body was flown by helicopter to the Knights of Malta Hospital in Valle Grande where photos were taken to prove to the world press he was dead, his last death. Before being shot by a soldier Che told him emphatically that, “You will only be killing the man”. He was right. Che has become a hero and martyr to change and revolution and this icon lives on.

We wound our way along disintegrating roads ( the government does NOT maintain them on purpose). The tiny remote towns are seldom visited and the roads impassable for months in the rainy season; luckily we had very little rain. We stayed in small guesthouses, visited a Che museum in Valle Grande, including photos of him laying peacefully in their local hospital. Eyes staring wide. To enter the museum you talked to someone downstairs and they gave you the key to have a look at the memorabilia collected from their town’s short claim to fame.

The scenery and the remote villages were worth the trip alone. At points Manuel wished he hadn’t brought his van on the terrible roads. At other times we were all saying prayers as the van teetered on the edge of gravel precipices falling 2000 feet to the river bed below. I heard the doves saying, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” It really wasn’t a road in many places. But then that is part of this grand adventure.

In La Higuera we stayed in a small compound with a couple of volunteer doctors from Cuba and visited the little schoolhouse where Che met his end, just 25 ft from our door. ‘Tu exemplo alumbrar. Un nuevo amanacer ‘- Your example lights the way. A New dawn. It has become a little shrine of sorts with people who make it to this isolated spot paying respect. Che is still dearly loved in many parts of the world. ‘Hasta la victoria siempre’ is one of Che’s most famous slogans. ‘Until Victory, Always. Can’t help thinking ‘live by the sword, die by the sword’. A real shame and waste of an intelligent forward thinking young doctor. Dead at 33.

Slowly we wove our way through the Cordillera Mountains up towards the Andes. Almost a week later we stopped at the small village of Tarabuco, above 9,000 ft. elevation. Bands were playing and hundreds of indigenous people were milling around. Seems we had just missed the President’s visit by about 10 minutes. What a treat to see the endless parade of bright traditional costumes as people walked around the small town square. The following day was the large weekend market with a dizzying display of wares, farm produce and colorful ethnic dresses and hats. Tired from the elevation we slowly walked around trying to absorb the brilliant display. Manuel’s van wouldn’t start and we went ahead to Sucre – meeting him later in town and hoping it was a little warmer than freezing at night.

We collapsed at the Grand Hotel and spend a couple of days in the friendly city of Sucre. Good thing it was so friendly because it was impossible to leave. Literally. The road blockades had moved to surround Sucre. ‘bloqueros’ – roadblocks are a common form of protest in Bolivia. Nature also provides natural roadblocks in the rainy season – spending the night on the other side of a rockslide will make you appreciate having extra jackets, food and water in your bag. Diagonal semi trucks blocking the roads is another matter. We were stuck for 4 days with no traffic in or out. On the 5th day I found a van driver who would bypass the blockade by means of a bumpy precarious road and continue on to Potosi – the world’s highest city at 4,090 metres (13,420 ft) . A smooth trip once we had joined the pavement; our merry band of travelers, 2 other couples and the driver, decided to take a break and have some lunch before continuing on. Not all in Potosi glitters of the silver mined here.

Fooled me! At a restaurant a well dressed man welcomed us at the door. Seated us. Gave us menus and explained the chicken special of the day. Seven people were at the table. A little boy was noisily trying to sell us movie DVD’s – a distraction. Another man watched nearby. When I turned away – my fault – he disappeared with my bag (including my new laptop, phone, etc!) Into thin air. He didn’t even work at the restaurant! It was a big set back for the webpage as I had just finished 2 pages and backed them up – then lazily thrown them into the bag with my laptop. All gone. First time in 10 years! The crook gets points for ingenuity though. The keystone cops at the ‘Tourist Police’ went through the motions and didn’t even flinch at an offer of $200 cash – no questions asked. Just another local thief going shopping at a ‘tourist store’. They claimed he must have been from Peru! Things come and go but memories are with us – woven in our tapestry of life.

Arriving in Uyuni was like being thrown into a deepfreeze in your pajamas. Usually these warm blooded ‘woosies’ from Hawaii go running in the other direction when the temperature drops; but we are glad that we stuck it out on the Altiplano – the highest plain in the world. But then everywhere is high, cold and spectacular in Bolivia.

From the time we crossed the border we heard about the Salt Flats near Uyuni. Not going would have been like visiting Egypt and not seeing the pyramids, “because everyone does!” We went on an expedition to the surreal blinding salt flats, staying in a hotel made of blocks of salt. The bed platform was salt, the bedside tables were salt, the walls and floor were salt. At night it was so cold that after dinner everyone just crawled under mountains of blankets and hid until morning. Luckily the days were sunny because staying at 15,000 feet was nothing short of freezing – and no central heating anywhere in S. America. No matter what direction you look there are wind swept mountains, snow capped peaks, and interesting rock formations. The next couple of days we explored the even more ethereal rainbow rock mountains, parks, green mineral lakes, red lakes with pink flamingos, geysers, bubbling mud, hot springs, strange rock formations, and the Salvador Dali Desert. The scenery was nothing less than spectacular at every bend. We were in a land cruiser with 4 wonderful, fun people from Spain. What a trip. And all for $25 a day.

La Paz, the capitol, was a whirlwind of activity after our time out in remote S.W. Bolivia. Lively markets, towering cathedrals all with ‘chalitas’ in bowler hats bustling about. We called these dear ladies ‘little dumplings’ and loved to interact with them. I’m sure they keep warmer with their padding than me in this cold elevation. In the markets we ate potatoes, potatoes and more potatoes, just like everyone else. They have yellow, blue, red, white, big, tiny and even black potatoes. If you like potatoes or quinoa this is the place for you.

Lake Titicaca, one of the highest navigable lakes in the world, is a stunning site with the sapphire blue water contrasting with the high, dry Altiplano. The villages of the Aymaran line the shore of the 230 km long lake. At an elevation of 3820m it has islands of the Sun and Moon, the cradle of the Incan civilization and birthplace of the sun according to Incan mythology. The Island of the Moon was where young virgins were treated royally before they were sacrificed to the gods. Not being virgins we took a boat out to the Island of the Sun and spent time on this small, unique island, close to the Incan gods. With beauty like this all around us we were living in the surroundings where myths were made.

And so it goes…………………………………..Next traveling up the Altiplano of the Andes, and exploring Peru. Until next month let’s remember to watch our thoughts. Be aware of what is going on around us but help create the world we wish to live in, starting with one encouraging thought at a time. Shift from anger and upset to gratitude and optimistic thoughts. From fear to love and caring. We are glad you stopped by. Thanks for keeping in touch. We love to hear from you. Take care!