The headwind at the end of the second day riding to Uyuni- up a steep mountain road- pretended to be permanent. I had to say it out loud: Wind, you are not permanent and neither is this damn, steep road, this uphill struggle isn't either and neither is this tour - no, not permanent and neither am I. Nothing is permanent!!!! Though it felt like it and I couldn't help myself hoping around EVERY bend of the road, this must be the end of it, the top! I was ready to go down way before the mountain was done....looking for signs, like the power lines running beside the road starting to go down.......seemingly, the oncoming traffic, the occasional car or bus going slower, if they had to go uphill right before this corner...Guessing games, staying positive...yeah, right....at some point I just yelled: I CAN DO WITHOUT THIS VERY STUPID HEADWIND! It only worked for a little while and then the mantra again: I am done, I don't want to do this anymore....what if I pooped out right now? Step out, leave the room, like in a Bikram Yoga class were the room is just too hot! Not an option - it's my mind, because I CAN DO THIS and I have gone through more difficult situations on this trip. My body is capable if I could just make my mind SHUT UP!! Think positive: Wow, it's not raining.......we are over 4000m and the air is warm - even the DAMN HEADwind is warm, there is hardly any traffic......the landscape is beautiful. This all works for a little while. And then - FINALLY- the top and it's downhill....strangely enough the downhill isn't even pretending to be permanent - like a massage...you always know it will end soon and sometimes the anxiety of the nearing end ruins the whole experience. Freaking BUMMER!
This was today, but, let me back up to explain the headline of this story: The day started out great, not only because the roads were easy and gentle and the sun was kind, but because we were still wearing a big grin on our faces from our experience last night: We had rolled into a village the night before and couldn't find a good place to camp. The only "guesthouse" was owned by a jerk who wanted 20 DOLLARS (140 Bolivianos) from us. (Here in Bolivia the real fancy hotels with hot water, a private bathroom, cable TV and breakfast in a touristy town cost 150 Bolivianos.) When he saw my shocked face he went down to $15, but I was already done with him..... We rode to the center of town (followed by the jerk on his bicycle who told us that he was the only gig in town and we would need to come back to him) and found the police station with the door open. I parked my bike and went inside to find a person - shit-faced drunk sitting behind the desk. The whole room reeked of alcohol, but in front of him was only a big bottle of coke. When he saw me, he visibly pulled himself together and I placed my question if he had any idea were we could camp
tonight in this village. He shook his head in a drunken kind of way: No! At that moment a uniformed policemen entered the room - I had seen him earlier at the plaza, looking very official and straight, asking what is going on and I placed my question again-towards him- the second time and he said: Yes! and showed us the front room which was occupied by motorcycles and a bunch of junk. He gestured he would make space for us and I said, if so, the room would be perfect. So, while we waited outside, being entertained by two lovely young girls wanting to know all the names of all my little mascots hanging on my bike, the police officer rearranged the room and swept it clean for us!! I was impressed! We rolled our bikes inside and started to arrange ourselves when Mr. Shit- face - drunk showed up from the back room with a box full of beer cans and offered us each a can. Now, you've got to know that in Bolivia it is very rude not to take what is offered to you and so we went back to the office, each a beer can in our hands, sat down (while I PRETENDED I drank it, because I actually HATE beer -I might be the only German who does... - I don't think anybody noticed, because it became apparent that the official looking, uniformed policemen was drunk too) while the two guys started playing music from the band "Kiss" through the computer, one started playing the "air guitar" and the other was dancing to the tune. Mr. Nina (the policeman) pointed to Edwin (the other guy who we were told was a politician, not a policeman) and announced in almost perfect English, that his buddy is a DRUNK DONKEY and then he had a laughing fit, James and I joined in, realizing the absurdity of the situation......Bolivia must be a safe country if the police can get away with being that drunk. We "partied" for a little while longer in the same style and then James and I excused ourselves and set up camp in "our" room - feeling quite safe and with a smile on our faces we went to sleep.
Our policeman got up early - looking very official again - he smiled at us and we said our thanks and good byes. It sure was a memorable stay in the little village of Aguas de Castillo.
What a beautiful morning. We set off in a pretty darn good mood thinking about last nights stay.
Not long after setting out we came across a herd of llamas. The first two were cozied up and had llama sex. The astonishing thing was, that they both appeared to enjoy themselves, staying in the same position with little movements and soft noises. The mail seemed to "whisper" sweet nothings in her ear.
We stopped for a while to look at this picture perfect.
And this is how the day began.
