Hippie Writer in Fairy Shoes

A country of contradictions as diverse as its landscapes, Bolivia is a dusty, tortoise paced, exhilarating crash course in expecting the unexpected. High-rise buildings on grotty roads quickly give way to uninhabited landscapes and terrain of transcendental beauty and kilometres of sand, stone and boredom travelled will lead you to secluded towns holding unearthly treasures in their silence.

Never-ending hours in a cramped bus, with nothing but the regular crunching of chicken bones from the lady to my left to keep me entertained, led me to one such town of treasures deep in the heart of Bolivia.  Uyuni, a  tiny military outpost located about 10 hours drive South West from La Paz, is one of the gateways to the mind-boggling beauty of the Salar de Uyuni.

10 582 square kilometres of salt, the Salar de Uyuni is home to anomalous geological formations, geothermal springs, brine lakes and in excess of ten billion tons of salt. The awesome expanse is difficult to comprehend, even when standing on the calm, continuous, cold surface. The never ending white landscape, which is considered the world’s largest salt pan, is deafening in its silence and blinding in its brightness.

The town of Uyuni has an intrinsic frontier edge. If you close your eyes just a little bit you can see the chaps-clad cowboys marching down the streets to the music of their own clinking spurs. After the calamity preceding Uyuni in the general tour of Bolivia, the town’s one main street - wide enough to accommodate at least four old style Ford Cortinas breast to breast - is charming in its simplicity. It offers little in the way of tourist temptation and is an easily navigated portal to the Salar de Uyuni.

The salt flats, which some 40 000 years ago were part of the prehistoric Lake Minchin, can be split into two major salt deserts: Salar de Coipasa and Uyuni. Uyuni, the larger of the two, plays host to the bizarre and slightly creepy salt hotel (with its choice décor of old soft drink bottles and empty cigarette packets adorning the walls) as well as the most prominent of the oasis like islands, La Isla del Pescado, or the Island of Fish.

The fish-shaped island is a mass of desperately cuddling red sand and rocks. It is home to the obscure rodent species, vizcachas, as well as some distressingly phallic cactuses, some of which are said to be over 1200 years old. Using the island as a landmark is a marvellous way of retaining direction and sanity while strolling the salt flats.

The expanse of the hard continuous planes of the salt flats is overwhelming. The endless kilometres run straight and flat in every direction, searing your senses and whittling you down until you are merely a speck on its pristine white canvas. It is cold, bright and very quiet. Before the silence threatens your sanity, yell as loud as you can and take note of how small you sound. Then go home.