3:10 to Uyuni

The night before, Alex was told that getting tickets for the Uyuni train would be very difficult as everyone tries to get out from Oruro on the Tuesday after Carnival. I’m a bit disbelieving, but when he shows up at breakfast and tells me that we’re number 180 on a line of hundreds of people, I’m not that surprised. Hopefully we can make it.

I go to the Wi-Fi hotel only to find that the wireless router is working great, but not the Internet going to it. Someone should come by to fix in the next 2-3 days. I head to the train station to take a turn waiting. 15 minutes later I’ve got 3 tickets for the 3:30pm to Uyuni. I guess I’m not having such a bad day.

Not the same can be said of the Waygoer. Since the big meal the other night, he’s been breathing heavily and complaining that he can’t handle the altitude. We spend a good half hour unsuccessfully scouring the local market for coca leaves before some kind strangers at my hotel offer him some altitude sickness pills.

Uyuni is the place Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid we trying to make when they were ambushed by the posse sent for them. We have better luck as we get in a rather nice train-car, ABBA blearing from the TV. It’s definitely one the cleanest things in Bolivia, this train.

Seven hours of thunderstorms, mountains, lakes, rainbows and a banana later we reach our destination. The book points the way to a decent hotel and hence we go.  On the 4 short blocks there we see crowds in front a couple of live music bars. Dogs and people are relieving themselves on the sidewalk. Otherwise the town is desolate and more reminiscent of Western movies than anything else.

My room is illuminated by distant lightning and filled with the sound of the nearby celebration of the end of Carnival. I ignore all, and quickly fall asleep.