River Boat to Asuncion, Paraguay.

We took a 22 hour river boat trip from Concepción to Asunción down the Río Paraguay. It was a really nice, easy, and slow ride.

When I Woke Up At 5:45am, in Ponta Porã, Brazil...

Sleeping Dogs of Paraguay.

For Jan.

Horse Carts in Concepcion, Paraguay.

Concepción is a pretty major port on the Río Paraguay. The horse carts carry goods to and from the port, and supposedly you can use them as taxis too.

Megan's Killer Face. Concepcion, Paraguay.

The only good mosquito is a dead mosquito. Sometimes our rooms are a little infested, and Megan goes to work. In certain parts of Paraguay, she is known as Megan "Dengue" Lyles.Git em, honey!

Italy Wins the World Cup!!!!!!!! Viva Italia!!!!!!!!

While the final match of the World Cup was being played we were on a bus to Concepción. When we disembarked in Concepción we were able to watch the final minutes of the penalty shoot-out with some grumbly taxi drivers at the taxi stand. They all wanted France to win, some of them had placed bets, and lost. We then caught a ride to a really shitty hotel, checked it out, and left to find somewhere else less prison like. While walking, about 20 minutes after the game, a mob of scooters came screaming by all carrying Italian flags and screaming VIVA ITALIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Filadelfia, and Loma Plata, Paraguay...Around Town.

These are towns in the Gran Chaco desert that were founded by Mennonites in the 1920's. We spent a few days strolling around. I did not see any traditionally dressed Mennonites, but their legacy was everywhere. Signs in German and Spanish, and a lot of German conversations going on all around us. The towns had a whole different feel from all of the other more Spanish influenced places. I was expecting a rather strict stance on alcohol and tobacco and various other material goods. This was not the case at all. Giant brand new trucks and cars, beer and liquor everywhere, stores selling all of the newest gear like Nike and Adidas. Every teen seemed to be dressed like any other suburban teen in the US or Europe and had a peppy scooter to cruise the town as well. We enjoyed our time there and met a lot of really nice people.

Anatomy of a 22 hour bus ride.

We willingly signed up for a 20+ hour, dirt road ride through the Chaco desert from Santa Cruz, Bolivia to Filadelfia, Paraguay. The bus company worms were fast talking liars and ended up charging us the same price we would have paid all the way to Asunción, seven hours further down the road. They also promised us that Filadelfia is actually a regular stop, and we would be dropped off in Filadelfia proper.

Lies, all lies!

Around hour 21 the bus flew past the turn for Filadelfia, I had a nasty little voice in my head saying this was going to happen all along. I went up to the drivers and asked them when we would be stopping in Filadelfia. They conversed in Paraguay's mother tongue, Guaraní, and then laughed at me saying, in Spanish, we had passed it long ago.

I was tired, dirty, and sick of everyone on that bus. The dudes in front of us had their seats jacked all the way back for the entire ride, plus they loved to stick their hands behind the seat practically close enough for me to smell them. I wanted to fight the entire bus minus Megan, my only teammate. I hated the drivers instantly.

My Spanish is nothing to marvel at when I'm cool and collected, when I'm angry it pretty much falls apart totally. I stomped back to my seat to get Megan, I needed her decision making skills and her better Spanish.

We went back to the drivers together and she asked what the deal was. They told her the same thing, we passed it and no we are not going back. I then proceeded to yell about how the jerks 21 hours back at the station back in Santa Cruz promised us 5 different ways the bus stopped in Filadelfia. The ayudante, trying to deflect blame said they told me that just to get my money.

They so helpfully said they would drop us off at the next crossroads where we could catch a collectivo to Filadelfia.

They dropped us off, and managed to avoid my hate filled glaring choosing to deal with Megan and pretend I did not exist. It was night, and we had no idea where we were. There was a gas station across the road.

We stood there for awhile, I ranted and cursed feeling uneasy about the people lingering around in the dark. They just turned out to be kids hitchhiking, which is a common mode of transport in rural Paraguay.

We decided to go visit the gas station and see if they knew when the next collectivo would be passing by. On our way we spotted a little shed with a light on inside and a sign hanging on the outside that said Agencia NASA, it was the local bus company. The helpful old man inside sold us two tickets to Filadelfia for pretty much all of the local currency we had, 10,000gs each, about $4.00usd total.

We made it to Filadelfia about an hour later, all ended up being fine. I still have hate in my heart for those guys in the Santa Cruz bus station.The Picada 500. We spent about 15 hours on this road.
The view out our window for much of the ride.
We finally make it to the asphalt Trans Chaco Highway after 15 hours.
This little dog, with a monkey passenger just showed up while we waited at Bolivian Migracion just after dawn.
Our packs, covered in dust.
A beautiful view for 21 hours.

Filadelfia, Paraguay.

We are sitting here in a cafe in Santa Cruz, Bolivia waiting for our bus to leave at 20:00. This bus trip will take no fewer than 20 hours traveling through the Gran Chaco desert until it arrives in the Mennonite town of Filadelfia. We don't expect to have access to the internet until we get to Concepción.

Enjoy the fireworks and the BBQ tonight, USA!.

Inti Wara Yassi Animal Refuge. Bolivia.

Click on the title above to read about Inti Wara Yassi.

Great place. We spent a few hours there letting the monkeys have their way with us. One of the monkeys peed on Megan and then ate her hair.

Fidel Castro's Wedding in Potosi, Bolivia.

One of the guides from our silver mine tour invited us and some other gringos to his sisters wedding. Bolivian weddings a celebrated over three days, we went to the third and final day. We bought them a set of green plates and a salad dressing set. The grooms name was Fidel Castro. Bolivian weddings are non stop drinking and dancing, with a tiny bit of eating thrown in to keep people from falling over drunk. We had soo much fun. We drank Chicha from buckets!

Cerro Rico. Potosi, Bolivia.

From Wikipedia:

"Potosí is a city, the capital of the department of Potosí in Bolivia. It is at an altitude of 3967 meters and has about 115,000 inhabitants. It is claimed to be the highest city in the world. It lies beneath the Cerro Rico ("Rich mountain"), a mountain of silver ore, which has always dominated the city."

One of the things that makes travel in South and Central America different from places like the US and Europe is there are fewer regulations regarding what one can and cannot do to put themselves at risk. If you want to stack 10 people in the back of a pickup truck and drive at 75 mph, go ahead. If you want to climb the rickety ladders all the way to the top of the church bells 15 stories up, you can. In Potosí, if you want to take a tour through a still active old school silver mine and roll the dice like the thousands of Bolivian miners do every day, it only costs $10.

Ex-miners provide explosive demonstrations outside the mine, talk about the history of the mines and the lives of miners, and then lead groups through one of the mines for a couple of hours. But first we visited the miners market to buy some gifts for the miners. In the market you can buy dynamite, coca leaves, protective gear, and various other items that either make the mining occupation safer or just more bearable, like 99% pure alcohol.

I have never been claustrophobic before in my life. I have been in some really tight spaces before with no easy way out and felt very calm and relaxed. Once we entered the mine my body and mind started to conspire against me. The air was very thin at this altitude, and in the mine the dust was thick, making breathing very difficult. I felt a tinge of anxiety that I was managing quite well at the moment. The mine shaft was wide in places, and very tight in others. There were thick cables running along the walls which we were warned not to touch because they were carrying live current. In certain spots it was almost impossible to not rub up against them.

There were about 14 people in our tour with two guides and three assistants. The assistants were there to escort people out of the mine if necessary. The size of this group only helped to limit the amount of space in the mine, and 28 feets kicked up lots of dust. My anxiety was starting to get on top of me. We had been in the mine for a short 15 minutes.


We stopped to chat with some young miners who were resting. They were 13 and 15 years old and their fathers and brothers were also working in the mines. The guides and most of the miners speak Quechua as their first language. It was a nice opportunity to have a seat on a pile of rocks, and try to relax and not think about the walls caving in, trapping you, and slowly asphyxiating with people screaming all around you. The difficult breathing, heat, lack of space and size of the group was driving me crazy.

The little break ended and we had already lost two people to fear. We had been in the mine for about 25 minutes and we were still on the first level. Once we were all ready and about to move a Swiss woman asked to be escorted out, that made three people who chose to leave the mine.

We moved on and came to a small dark hole in the earth that led down to the second level. When I saw the hole something happened inside me. I couldn't handle the anxiety anymore, I turned around and stated that I was leaving, making it clear that if someone did not escort me out right away, I would find my own way out. We had been in the mine for less than 45 minutes.

Two more people joined me in leaving.

It was a quick retreat, taking only 5 minutes or so to reach the exit. I was happy to be out, but also a little (seriously, only a tiny bit) disappointed in myself for not pushing through the fear. The others spent another hour and a half in the mine going down to level 4 and even experiencing a dynamite blast which we felt on the surface.

Mining is hereditary amongst the men of families. Father take their sons into the mines when they are as young as eight years old to be errand runners. Miners have a very short life expectancy with silicosis being the usual cause of death but having a lot of help from accidents, and the hard living that accompanies the lifestyle outside the mines.
Cerro Rico
Llama blood. Llama are sacrificed as offerings to Tio, the devil god who oversees and protects the miners. The miners say the more Llama blood that is split means less miners blood. The llama blood is splashed all over the entrance to the mine and everything else around it.
Dynamite for sale in the miners market.
Miners pushing a mineral cart back into the mine after dumping it.
Miners inside one of the miners shelters where they can rest during long shifts. Sometimes shifts can exceed 24 hours. The green bags contain coca leaves which helps the miners battle fatigue, hunger, and altitude.
Miners inside the mine on their way out with a mineral cart weighing one ton.
The exit to the surface.
The devil god, Tio inside the mine near the entrance.