Salar, Cholita Wrestling, Huayna, and Boca

So we've been on the road for over three months now. It's been difficult for me to adjust to the change in status from a PCV to "just" a tourist. As a volunteer we really felt connected to our community and believed that we were doing good work. As a tourist, it is much harder to find the "realness" of places and feel like we are not exploiting the people and just other gringos. To combat these feelings Erica and I try to speak Spanish in public, avoid organized tours, and ride buses and use other public transportation as much as possible. The freedom has been incredible and we've seen amazing places, but I have consistently compared our current situation to Bolivia and the life we had just a few months ago. Traveling through Argentina and Peru has brought out different emotions in me. A part of me has felt sad and confused as to Bolivia's state of chaos and "underdevelopment" while another part of me has felt pride and awe at having lived in such a unique environment. Before we left the US almost two years ago we read how Bolivia was the poorest country in South America and the 2nd poorest in the west, behind only Haiti. Now, after living in the country I wonder what "poor" really means? Sure, major roads are not paved, there is no home mail delivery, and many towns do not have 24/7 electricity or H2O. But, at least in El Puente, we saw no homeless people, families seemed strong, and we saw very very few overweight or obese people. I guess what has been highlighted for me are the differences in values and beliefs between American and Bolivian culture.

OK, enough seriousness for now...

One such event that we had heard much about but were afraid of the exploitive nature of was Cholita Wrestling. In case you don't remember, Cholitas are traditional Bolivian women. They are mostly indigenous and dress with long skirts (polleras), colorful tops, and wear their hair in braids (trenzas). They are strong women who mostly live in the altiplano and are well respected. In La Paz, the phenomenon of Cholita Wrestling has exploded in the past few years. Like many countries, Bolivia also has "professional" wrestling with rabid fans. National Geographic recently did a story about the history and impact of Cholita wrestlers. They are regular Cholitas who "wrestle" to earn extra money for their families. (I use "wrestle" because I participated in and coached amateur wrestling -- the kind featured in the Olympics and at US colleges -- not the same sport of which Hulk Hogan is a legend.) Anyway, fellow volunteers Mike, Kilo, Laurie and I attended such a match in La Paz one Sunday. To our delight the vast majority of the crowd was regular Bolivian families. The crowd looked and acted similar to what one might see at a WWF/WWE? match in the US. Yes, there was a small gringo section and we received a small ceramic souvenir of a Cholita wrestler. There were about 12 matches and only one featured two Cholitas squaring off, the rest were men vs. men. In other matches a Cholita was either the official in the ring or a "manager." The atmosphere was lively and the "wrestlers" did not disappoint. In classic Nacho Libre style almost all the participants wore masks, and there was a match of "little Bolivians." We saw Bolivian Ninjas, Spidermen, Vampires, and Gypsy-like guys climb into the ring and bounce around. The scene was difficult to capture on film, but I did my best. I have a pretty good video of the Bolivi-Ninja doing flips and kicks, but it is too large to post. Here are some samples...

The venue for Cholita Wrestling was in the city of El Alto, above La Paz. We were already planning our future mountain climbing adventure and took this picture in front of the peak we hoped to summit.

Mike, Kilo (a UCD alum), and I also tried to go to a Bolivian League futbol match on our last day in La Paz. The guys wore their jerseys, we went early, got excited for the game, and then nobody showed up. It was not the first time we had been misinformed during our time in Bolivia. We made the most of the day and still had a good time.

I flew back to Tarija after La Paz and then Erica and I traveled to Tupiza to meet with other volunteers and begin our trip to the Salar de Uyuni. Here we are waiting to make final arrangements to leave on the tour.

The Salar sits in a huge national park in far southwest Bolivia at an elevation of 3,650m (11,972ft) and covers over 4,000 sq. miles. The rest of the park is just as impressive and contains numerous active and inactive volcanoes, natural hot springs, geysers, and freaky looking blue, red, and yellow lakes. The altitude combined with the geologic activity made it feel like we were on another planet.

We were all amazed that you could walk right up to bubbling vats of Earth and stand in the mist of the geysers.



Here we are in natural hot springs at around 12,000 ft, and then in front of an extinct volcano with a green lake.

Scattered along the landscape were huge boulders no doubt ejected during a long ago eruption. I couldn't help myself from staring at the immense extinct volcanoes and wonder what it must have been like when they blew their tops.

One area in particular had a large concentration of debris and volcanoes stained red. The area was known as the "Valle de Dali." We stopped for about an hour at one area and were free to explore the rock formations.

The iconic "Arbol de Piedras"

We spent the last night before reaching the Salar in the Salt Hotel. Here is the hotel and the vehicle we traveled in for the four days.

We left the Salt Hotel before dawn so we could reach a rock "island" in the Salar to watch the sunrise. The experience of seeing the day begin from such a unique vantage point was another surreal experience.

Taking a coca break with Mateo, Phil, Steve, and Armando.

As Erica mentioned in her post, one tradition of Salar trips are taking strange perspective pictures. We had fun with these...

Also as Erica mentioned, part of our reason for traveling through the Salar was to begin acclimating for La Paz and our attempt at summiting 6,000m Huayna Potosi.

We arrived back in La Paz and met up with Mike and Kilo to make our final preparations for the mountain. Climbing Huayna was something that Mike and I had talked about since climbing 5000m Mt. Tunari during training in Cochabamba in spring of 2007. After I hurt my knee and had surgery I had some doubts, but my Panamanian surgeon said if I stuck to therapy and exercise, I would be able to make the climb. The mountaineering season in Bolivia corresponds to the dry winter, roughly July-Nov. I had surgery in Panama in June and we had to postpone the trip numerous times. Along with Mike, Kilo and Armando had also become excited and we expected the four of us to form a solid group. We had originally planned to request vacation time from PC to make the climb in November, but everything changed with our evacuation to Lima. For awhile it didn't seem that the climb would happen due to timing and logistics, but everything came together for a magical three days on the mountain.

Since we left Lima in September we had been traveling in a group of ten. We all got along well, but trying to manage such a large group with so many variables was difficult. Some in the group were not so into climbing and had never considered Huayna. The group gained confidence and momentum after our 4-day trek through the Colca Canyon in Peru. It was hot, dry, steep, and at altitudes over 11,000ft. In total we covered almost 20 miles and climbed almost 20,000ft. The last day we hiked out of the canyon on this trail, gaining over 3000ft.

The group separated after the canyon and vowed to reunite in La Paz in two weeks to attempt Huayna Potosi. Everyone kept their promises and we were excited to see each other again in La Paz. Before separating Mike, Kilo, and I had investigated various guide companies and settled on one run by an eclectic but reassuring Bolivian mountaineer and emergency room doctor. He told us that the altitude and the changing weather would be our biggest obstacles. We could do nothing about the weather, but he suggested we begin taking supplements of vitamin B-complex and iron in order to produce more red blood cells. Red blood cells contain the protein hemoglobin which transports oxygen around the body. More red blood cells = more hemoglobin = more oxygen to muscles and the brain. Beginning around 5000m air contains only 1/2 the oxygen content as compared to sea level. Obviously, this can cause problems with breathing, metabolism, and brain functions. We wanted to give ourselves the best chance at summiting so Erica, Mike, Kilo, and I began taking the supplement about two weeks before the climb. I believe they helped us immensely. The Doc also said he would speak with each person of the group individually and prescribe altitude medication as needed. All ten of us ended up purchasing and taking the medication with us to the mountain. We agreed that we would try to climb without meds, but take them if symptoms presented -- headaches, abnormally low/high heart rate, dizziness, etc. I also had with me prescription pain killers and strong anti-inflammatory for my knee that my surgeon had suggested I use if needed.

We had a four day window for the three day climb, leaving an extra day in case the weather was bad. One friend, Armando, was returning to the US and these were to be his last days in Bolivia. We left the city of La Paz early on a Monday morning and went to the gear deposit to be fitted for harnesses, snow suits, crampons, boots, and receive our ice axes. The drive up to El Alto was filled with anticipation as the mountain slowly became visible and grew larger. We stopped for a photo op and to have some laughs.

Our first day was spent learning how to use the gear on the ice. We had a short hike up to a glacier and spent three hours taking turns practicing techniques with the crampons and ice axes. Here is the geared-up group before setting out for the glacier.

Years ago on a European backpack trip I had spent a day ice climbing in the Swiss Alps so I felt comfortable on the Andean Ice. Here we are resting before attacking the glacier, and a look at our practice terrain.

After the practice we returned to Base Camp, had dinner, played some music, and tried to imagine what the next days would hold. The twelve of us were the largest group, but there were also Austrians, Israelis, and Germans staying in the 4130m (~13,500ft) lodge. Some members of the group felt effects of the altitude and took the prescription meds. Erica, Mike, Kilo, and I all felt strong and enjoyed the festive, but reverent atmosphere as night fell and we went to sleep.

The next day the plan was to hike to High Camp, a 3-5 hour hike ending at a small shack at 5,400m (~17,700ft). Erica and I have quite a bit of wilderness experience and know our own strengths, although neither of us had ever been at this altitude. We know that it is important to hike at your own pace and rest when your body needs it. With this in mind, we decided it best for Erica to have her own guide and set out for High Camp earlier than the rest of the group.

We had great weather during the ascent and everyone felt good. Since Erica was ahead of us we were able to see the route we would be taking. At times it was comforting, at others it was intimidating. At this time most of us were still hiking in tennis shoes and this slope looked particulary difficult. That is Erica and her guide accending the snowy slope as the group rested.

A few hours later we all reached High Camp. It really was just an insulated metal shack. The guides made us some warm tea and we ate a "dinner" of hot dogs and ramen noodles. I say "dinner" because it was about 4pm. We were supposed to eat, and then sleep before waking up at midnight for a small "breakfast" and then setting out in the dark for the 6 hour attempt of the summit.

High Camp, and Phil contemplating the next 24 hours.

Sleeping at 17,000+ proved difficult. Most of the group was experiencing the effects of the altitude. To my pleasant surprise, my knee, lungs, and brain were all working well. During the next few hours everyone except Mike and I took the prescription medication. I had trouble falling asleep until I went outside and released some liquids around 8pm. The night was clear and I had never seen so many stars. I took pause, gave thanks for the magical moment, then went in and slept for four hours.

Waking and gearing up just after midnight was a physical and mental challenge. We were all a bit groggy and most of our gear was moist from condensation. We had some hot tea and bread, then went outside and roped up to our partner and guide. Again, Erica set out almost one hour ahead of the rest of the group. We cheered her on as we watched the light from her headlamp slowly fade as she made her way up the mountain.

My hiking partner was Russ, a friend from our training group who I had clicked with almost immediately back in Jan 07. Russ also had wilderness experience and was a strong hiker. We ceremoniously prepared coca tea and chewed the leaves to help with the altitude. We were the first pair after Erica to leave High Camp. We were tired and cold, but confident and excited about the next 12 hours. Erica took this wonderfully flattering picture of me before leaving High Camp.

We spent the next four hours slowly ascending in the dark as views of the city of La Paz slowly came into view. My headlamp burned out 30 minutes into the journey so I was truly in the dark. Honestly I think I was lucky since without a headlamp I avoided tunnel vision and was more free to look around the mountain and up at the stars. We talked a bit, stopped to share chocolate, beef jerky, water, and coca and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

At around 18,500 ft we came upon the team of Phil and Steve. Steve, 20-something from Fresno, suffers from a hip problem and is expecting replacement surgery once back in the States. He felt his balance was not so good and had made the decision to turn back. Their guide descended with Steve, and Phil joined Russ and I.

Around 5AM at 19,000ft I began to feel weak. I had eaten all my chocolate and jerky and had consumed 2/3 of my water. I experienced my first doubts about what I was doing. I was the only person over 30 and 9 years older than Phil; I was also four months removed from knee surgery. We sat, rested, drank water, Phil shared the rest of his chocolate, I focused, and the faint light of dawn appeared. Watching the mountain light up gave me new strength. The views were even better and I again felt blessed to experience such a moment. The three of us and our wonderful Bolivian guide got up and headed for the summit.

The rest of the way was easier. We raced against the sun and used its energy to climb the final 1000ft. Russ, Phil, and I reached the summit just behind Mike and Armando and were treated to breathtaking views. Here is one of our first pictures at 20,000ft.

An attempt at a panoramic of the Andes, the Altiplano, and the Amazonian lowlands. Click for a larger view.


Before leaving the summit I took this picture of Russ with Mt. Condorini (~15000ft) in the distance.


And here is a picture Erica took of her guide looking toward Illumani.

On our way down we passed Erica on her final ascent to the summit and she took this picture of Russ, me, Phil, and our guide in back. Also visible is her guide and the rope attached to her wrist that she wrote about in her post.

We descended under a clear sky and hot sun enjoying great views of La Paz and the surrounding mountains. Here are some pictures taken by Miguel during the descent.

By the time we got back to High Camp almost 10 hours had passed since we left. We were tired, but exhilirated by what we had just done.

After some hot tea, the group headed down to Base Camp and I waited for Erica. Another hour or so passed before she appeared on the slope, slowly making her way down. It was awesome to watch her come down, knowing where she had been and what she had done. She drank some warm tea and then we left High Camp to join the rest of our group back base camp. By the time we reached Base Camp Erica had been hiking for just over 12 hours. Our friends cheered us on as we climbed the final steps to the lodge.

The experience of climbing the mountain was incredible. Huayna Potosi is pretty much accepted to be the "easiest" 6,000m peak in the world. But, as our doctor friend assured us and we found out, it still is a "proper" mountain. Offically, the peak is 6088m above sea level, 88m above the "magical" 6K mark, but 31ft shy of 20,000ft. I had my GPS during the whole adventure and our Bolivian guides were curious as to what the reading would be at the summit. It seems there is a bit of controversy as to the true height of the mountain. At the top, my GPS read 6,123m, or 20,083 ft. Whatever the true measurement was, it was by far the highest any of us had ever been.

After La Paz, I was to spend about a week alone in Buenos Aires while Erica quickly flew home to take the cat to California. That did not work as planned. From Erica's last post you may know that Roque was lost during their 45 min flight from Cochabamba to Santa Cruz. Erica called me late in Buenos Aires with the unbelievable news. We were both shocked and upset. I felt helpless, so far away, and was in denial. As the next morning dawned and she boarded her flight to Miami without Roque I began to accept what had happened. I spent a few days depressed and crying. I was supposed to be studying for the GRE and working on grad school applications, but it was difficult.

When Erica arrived things got a little better. We comforted each other and contacted the Bolivian airline to try to get our cat back. At first we were told that people had seen him, and that we might still be able to find him. But, after a week or so we were told that no one had seen him for awhile and he was most likely gone for good. I felt angry, and just confused by the whole situation. This was not the way the story of Roque was supposed to end. He was so close to a comfortable life in California. We joked that he had won the kitty lottery. How things change. As I write this now, almost two months removed, I still feel sad and wonder how Roque is adjusting to his new, unexpected life.

So we spent a month in an apartment in Buenos Aires. I took the general GRE and the Psychology GRE and filled out applications for grad school. We also celebrated Thanksgiving and had Emelia, a fellow volunteer from Tarija, pass through and help us cook dinner.

We left Buenos Aires with Emelia and visited Iguazu Falls on the border of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. The falls were beautiful.

Iguazu Falls are located in a national park, some in Argentina, some in Brazil. US citizens need visas and $100 to enter Brazil (as Brazilians need the same to enter the USA), so we decided to stay on the Argentina side of the park. Here is an overview of the major San Martin Falls.

The park was very well organized with series of trails and catwalks leading under, around, and over most of the large falls. We spent the morning exploring, amazed by the volume of water and number of smaller falls.

Here is a close view from a catwalk over one edge of San Martin.

We spent the afternoon in the lower park of the park gaining a different perspective. If you look close you can see us at the end of a catwalk, at the base of San Martin.

We also took a short boat tour to gain an even closer view and become "baptized" by the water.

There was wildlife in the park and we saw a toucan, many coati, and lizards. Here is one that made a move for my shoe.

The largest of the falls is known as La Garganta del Diablo. It is an immense drop off where a huge river suddenly plunges. Hard to capture on film, but here is one shot.

We split from Emelia after Iguazu -- she headed for Ecuador, Erica and I for Uruguay. Erica has a friend who spent a year in Uruguay during high school and gave us tips on where to visit. We spent almost two weeks and loved it. We think Uruguay might become a future family destination for us. Erica will write more.

Before I end, one last story about Buenos Aires...

The city of Buenos Aires has 11 million pepole, the country of Bolivia has 9 million, El Puente has 500. We both experienced culture shock during our month+ in BA. Traffic. Honking. High Prices. Smog. McDonald's and Burger King. Crime.

The Sunday before Thanksgiving I rode a city bus out to the neighboorhood of La Boca. Boca was founded by Itallian immigrants, gave birth to the Tango, and is one of the oldest and poorest barrios of Buenos Aires. It is also home to the Boca Juniors futbol club and, unfortunately, a bit of crime. I walked around the touristy streets and looked at the colorful houses.

My plan was to walk from La Boca to San Telmo, another historic BA barrio. On the way I passed some kids kicking a ball around.

I was less than three blocks away from the main tourist street when I walked past a group of six young men drinking beer in front of a corner store. It was 3pm, there was a park across the street with families BBQing, and kids kicking a ball at the other corner. As I walked past the group, one of the guys asked me if I had the time. I answered no, showed that I had no watch on, and kept walking. All in Spanish, they asked me to stay, to hold on. I got a strange feeling, and thought they wanted to sell me drugs. I said no thanks, and kept walking. Less than half a block later I heard footsteps.

I turned around and saw three of them rapidly approaching. As they got close they backed me against the wall and one pulled out a gun. They told me to be quiet and give them all my money. My mind raced for a second. I was wearing "travel pants" -- multiple deep pockets, some with zippers. I had separated my cash. Large bills were in my back zipped pocket, small bills in the front. I also had our camera in my left pocket, and a special, antique pocket watch in my right pocket.

I had every intent to give them some money, but did not want to part with the camera or the watch. A second later two of the guys had their hands in my pockets trying to get what they could. I began to yell, "Calmense! Calmense" Calm down, Calm down. They told me to "Callate, Callate!" Shut up, Shut up. Not wanting them to get the camera or the watch out I trapped their hands in my deep pockets and held them there. Then things changed a bit.

The guy in the center threw a right hook and hit me square on the jaw. I'd never been in a fight before, but I have many years wrestling experience. I reacted. I threw a short left elbow and connected with one guy's skull, then a swift right kick to the groin of the gun-wielder. Both of them fell back, the elbow recipient tearing my pants down to my knee as he fell. I remember the guy in the center, who threw the first punch, looking kind of stunned. We both took steps back, I tripped and fell over a crack in the sidewalk. I also remember looking up at the guy, expecting him to come after me as I was on the ground. He did not. The three turned and went back to their corner. I got up, picked up my baseball cap, and walked the other way.

I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting them to come after me with the rest of their friends. My pants were badly torn, and they had stolen $9 pesos, just under $3.00 from me. I walked quickly, turned a few corners and luckily came across an Argentine Navy Station. I told the guard outside what had happened. I was visibly shaken and I was let in to clean off, have a drink of water, and calm down. They asked if I wanted to make a "denuncia", a complaint. At first I thought no, they stole so little, but then I decided it was the right thing to do. They called a police car and I was driven to a local station.

I was treated nicely, although blamed a bit for leaving the tourist corridor. I tried to explain that it was not my fault I was robbed, and asked if this was common for a Sunday afternoon. I told them I had lived two years in Mexico and Bolivia and had never had such an experience. They listened, took down my details and gave me a report. I now have a nice souvenir from the Argentine Federal Police stating I was a victim of a "robo y asaulto por mano armado."

I left Police the office, drank down a beer, then rode the bus back to our apartment. As soon as I entered, Erica knew something had happened. I was beat tired, and hungry. I told her about the crazy incident, let out some emotion, ate, then fell asleep on the couch.

Erica sewed up my pants that night and my elbow and jaw were sore for the next few days. I'm not sure if I was stupid or brave to fight back. I told the police that I didn't believe the gun was real. He assured me it was, saying the crooks are "tontos pero no estupidos." Dumb but not stupid. Had they confronted me with a knife I think I would have been much more scared. I was grateful to come out unharmed. I also believe the thieves could not have been very experienced. Why didn't they all come after me? Why didn't they hit me right away? Why didn't they hit me harder?

I did have a funny feeling when I first saw the guys. In relating the story to my mom she reminded me to listen to my gut, always. I guess that is the lesson I can take. Now, if I get a strange feeling I will turn and walk the other way. I don't want to press my luck.

(NOT the guys who robbed me, but another pleasant day in BA)

So we have been in Argentina for more than two months now. The country is beautiful, the meat is good, and the culture is very different than Bolivia. One thing that always pops up in Argentina is the Falkland War. Years ago, Argentina invaded two small British islands off the coast of Ushuaia. They apparently believed the Brits wouldn't notice or wouldn't care. The UK sent warships and sunk the pride of the Argentine Navy. Argentina has never forgotten and vows to someday reclaim the islands. Much like landlocked Bolivia celebrating its Dia del Mar. Here we are in front of the Malvina Memorial (as the islands are called in Argentina.)

So that is the past few months of travels. We are currently in Ushuaia, Argentina. We spent Christmas and New Years here camping. Today will be 14 nights in a tent. Time to do laundry.

Hasta luego,

Marcos