Change of scene

Today I am writing from Sucre, the former capital of Bolivia, roughly in the middle of the country. There is a protest today (not an unusual occurance, I've been told), everything is closed, so I have no excuse not to write!
Before I begin my update, let me just say one thing: anyone who is planning a trip to Paris this summer, change your tickets right now and go to Buenos Aires instead!!! You'll find lovely cobblestone streets, beautiful old buildings (yes, some are kind of grey and run down, all the more authentic), large tree-lined boulevards (for those who like grandeur), world-class museums (like the Museo des Bellas Artes, absolutely free!), art galleries, milongas (dance halls where people go to tango), fruit and vegetable markets, antique markets, craft markets, hundred year old cafes full of brass and wood (but without the annoying waiters) and amazing restaurants, all at a fraction of the price! O.K., it might be more expensive to get there, but once you arrive, it's a bargain. And you get the chance to practice your Spanish - a veritable challenge for all your senses. (Any Parisians reading this, please do not take it personally!) That said, most Argentinians we met said it's a great place to visit, but not so great to live there!

After almost a week in Buenos Aires, we headed north to Cordoba and then to Salta, all of this on night buses, to save on sleeping costs! Despite what people say, you never really get a good night's sleep, especially when they boost the air conditioning and flick the lights on at every stop along the way, or show obnoxious dubbed Americain movies: there's nothing like a good horizontal bed, even if it's a bit lumpy!

At this point Evelyne headed off on her own to meet a friend in Bolivia, so we suddenly became a small family! In Salta we rented a car and spent four days driving through some pretty mind boggling and everchanging scenery: a winding, extremely bumpy unpaved road up through multicoloured mountains and over occasional streams, through Parque Cardones, a desert conservation area full of giant cactii, then through Quebrada de las Flechas, a valley of huge pink stones jutting up from the ground with the small dusty road squeezing its way through these rock formations, and finally, a thousand year old Inca ruins in Quilmes hugging the mountainside, great for hide and seek! I was a bit worried about the car, a small Volkswagon, but then I remembered that the rental agency had provided us with the map and knew exactly what kind of terrain we would be driving through. Along the way, several small villages with impeccably manicured plazas, and even smaller ones, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, where all of the houses are built of mud bricks. In my last message I mentioned that South America did not seem that different: well, this was different. I have come to the conclusion that differences are greater between rural and urban environments in any given country then between cities in two different countries. Indeed, life in Montreal and Meat Cove, Newfoundland is probably quite different.

Another night bus up to the border of Bolivia. When we finally made it to the border crossing (after wandering through the empty streets of La Quaica at 7:00 in the morning, trying to figure out where to go - you have to walk about a kilometer from the bus terminal, and no one tells you which direction!) the whole procedure was very simple: a couple forms to fill out, a couple more stamps in our passports, and off we went. What really struck me here was the people in traditional dress. The indiginous women wear large pleated knee-length skirts with coulourful blouses, wool tights and, what looks to us like bowler hats atop their long black braids! And of course, the indispensable multi-couloured blanket slung over the shoulders, either carrying a baby or wares destined for the market. It really is quite surprising to see the mix of contemporary and traditional attire, even in big cities.

From Tupiza we did a four day jeep trek (with four Australians) ending in Uyuni, through more out-of -this-world scenery, including lagoons of various colours, pink, green, white, depending on the minerals, some filled with several species of flamigos, beautiful mulit-hued mountains that truly looked like paintings (apparently Dali did paint them), aguas calientes (bubbling mud) and a lovely outdoor hot spring that we soaked in, lots and lots of lamas and vicunas, and finally the renowned Uyuni salt flats, 12,000 square kilometers of crytallized salt. At times, I almost did feel like it was snow, especially since, at an altitude of almost 5,000 feet, it got pretty darn cold, especially at night. No sympathy, I know, I know. I have since bought some beautiful hand-knit mittens, which I quite enjoy wearing, in fact!

At this point we received an e-mail from Evelyne who had been on her own for about a week, and was anxious to see us, so we zoomed up to Sucre, an entire day on the bus (a break from night buses) on a lovely smooth paved road (according to our guide book, 4 per cent of roads are paved in Bolivia). After a couple of hours, I think she was ready to head off again, but she's stuck with us now!