Everything is possible, but nothing is for sure

Yes. Yes I took that photo of flamingos kicking up the water. I just had to start of saying that, because I may have missed my chance at amazing lightening photography the night before, but I sure as heck did not miss my flamingo shot.

Leaving the Salt Flats of Uyuni behind may have left the spectacular but was just the start of the real adventure.

The first night we slept in the Salt Hotel. I had heard from another traveler that they were unimpressed.

They expected, like an igloo, blocks of salt as a structure. I am not sure exactly what they were expecting, because that is exactly what we stumbled into. Solid bricks of salt. A bed frame, benches, tables and chairs – all of solid salt. I still want that table.

The next morning we set out for the lagoons. Rain had caused us to miss some of our stops and views the night before, but no worries. The day before had far exceeded expectations. We were out ostrich hunting and were excited to spot our first vicuña – a type of Andean deer.

There were 11 of us in two cars, and we were used to seeing the second car fall a little behind. But it was a definite surprise to pull over and see the second vehicle at a full stop; then, to notice the driver running off into a field to chase down their aimlessly rolling tire. We were seven hours from our starting point in, what to us seemed, the middle of absolute nowhere. Somewhere past that Salt Flats and approaching Chile. To approach our partners and see it wasn’t just a loose tire, but the bolts had been stripped, the rim had been shredded and the axle of the car was sunk in the mud. (Everyone was OK. Everyone but the car.)

No problem. This is Bolivia. There is nothing that cannot be fixed with a handful of coco leaves and a crowbar it seems.

We were blessed to have broken down a mere 6 kilometers from a nearby town, so we set off walking, surrounded by snow topped mountains and a stray llama or two. It was around this time that our driver gave us the new motto for Bolivia, and one we embraced for life: Everything is possible, but nothing is for sure. If you are not flexible before you set out traveling, you will be by the time you get home.

A few hours later we were headed off for lagoons of flamingos, where yes, yes I took my one photograph of birds preparing for flight that makes me feel I can cross “National Geographic Photographer” off of my bucket list.

My mother has scratched her head at my desire to travel from time to time, saying, “You’ve seen one cathedral, you’ve seen them all.” I don’t understand. Because I don’t think if you have even seen one mountain you have seen them all. The landscape changed so dramatically in our travels. We began naming movie scenes and countries (or states) we could have been dropped in. We saw landscapes that could have inspired The Never Ending Story, Star Wars, The Princess Bride, and Lord of the Rings, in one drive. Hints of New Mexico, Colorado, and North Caroline filled my vision – and none of those mountains appear the same. Yet they were all here in one drive.

We passed colored lagoons of Red and Green and stinky lagoons and found cacti and palm trees and wild shrubs and quinoa and even the rocks of the Dali dessert. I am still trying to understand the flamingos at 14,000 feet hanging out in 20 degree weather with their heads buried in the water feasting on the organisms that colored the waters.

We passed active volcanoes and silent ones and watched the clouds wrap around their peaks and then drift away silently.

At this point I was blessed to be in the car with a foursome that had been traveling a few weeks together: two girls from Australia and a couple from Canada. They had formed a strong bond of a newfound “family,” and I was just happy to be surrounded by English.

I was trying to keep my cool and be cool all on my own and traveling through the landscape. Alas, traveling does not really ever let you escape who you are at heart. And so it came to be I learned I cannot leave my uncool behind. Because there, in the middle of the desert, as we watched trains haul minerals out of Bolivia to cross the Chilean border to be processed (Bolivia has the minerals to be wealthy, but not the wealth to develop the technology to process the raw goods themselves)… There I learned that with all my new confidence and accomplishment, with my achievements and mountaintops and “new woman” perspective …. There I learned I can’t really leave awkward and unbalanced behind.

We pulled over to admire a volcano, or as the ladies put it, take a “llama baño” break. Yes, bathrooms and bladder control are a big part of my Bolivian story. I stepped out of the car and somehow onto a loose rock that sent me spilling onto the desert floor. In Bolivia, one thing you learn is to carry toilet paper with you. Everywhere. Llama baño or no. Sometimes you find that precious resource in the public toilets, but most time you either pay to buy some or you better have brought your own. I noticed my fold of toilet paper had fallen out of my pocket and landed on the ground (I did jump up immediacy arms raised in a, I-stuck-the-landing pose, QUITE embarrassed). But, ah, me. It is not enough for me to embarrass myself a little. As I reached to put the toilet paper back in my pocket, I realized it was soaking wet.

Because I, in my infinite skill, grace, and unbelievable luck, in the middle of the Bolivian desert where anything is possible, I had managed to step out of the car onto a rock marking someone ELSE’S llama baño, and attempted to pocket their used toilet paper.

It was at that time, after the horrified look on my face dissolved into beet red mortification, after the raucous laughter from the 4x4 subsided, the foursome family agreed that I could be the crazy aunt they kept locked in the closed and only let out from time to time. (Corby and Kate, Jamie and Alana, I promised you would be in my blog).

Because everything is possible, but nothing is for sure.

That night, another of our group helped me to take my first night photography attempts, another bucket list item. This may not be the clearest, but I was more than excited by the attempt. Especially as the wind blew fiercely and we were all jumping up and down to try and warm ourselves. I wanted to do this on the Salt Flats to see if I could capture the stars in reflection, but I was quite happy with my first attempt to capture my night and my sky and my Milky Way.

It was only the second time I have actually been able to see the Milky Way with the naked eye.

We slept that night in hats and gloves and sleeping bags. In a hostel with no electricity and no heat. I think it was much colder than 20 degrees, and it is the only night I can remember shaking myself to sleep from the freezing cold.

It seemed warmer the next morning when we woke at 4 a.m. The temperature read -6 degrees Celsius. No matter.

We were off again to wander amongst geysers and bubbling pools of mud, heated by the nearby volcanoes. The sun began to rise and we hurried to one of the hot springs to spend a luxurious hour heated by the water, chilled by the air. We watched the sun crest over the snow topped mountains and soaked everything in…

We had topped 5,000 meters. We had chased wild animals. We had discovered roads that to this day we believe were not real roads at all, but our driver’s attempt at a shortcut over the mountains as opposed to around. We had seen where the hand of God touched the Earth and now we sat soaking in the silence of a sunrise.

Because This is Bolivia – where everything is possible, but nothing is for sure.