What is the difference between an alcoholic and a traveller? If you think the chicha has affected my thinking, not so. I have seriously asked myself this question recently. Through traveling you see a glimpse of other people's lives, then moving on again. You are freed of day to day responsibilities, trivialities and (possibly) other people's expectations. One might even say traveling enriches your life. Or does it? When cycling the roads in Bolivia, the only people I meet are Bolivians. Tourists are hard to spot on the road and in the small villages. In tourist places like La Paz or the Salar de Uyuni on the other hand, it is buzzing with tourists. You find backpackers of all sort, young and old, some prefering to party and socialize with other backpackers, others looking for an original culture or nature experience. Some try to dress themselves as local Bolivians, other more alternative travellers are doing tricks on the street or selling some artesania in order to try earning some money. As many travellers come from developed countries, many want a personal and authentic experience. Trying to create their 'personal' journey, tour organizations enter the stage to fill the void.

In my opinion traveling has, in many cases, become a uniform, predictable routine, for some maybe even a necessity. If you have not travelled you may be frowned upon. Although traveling by bike sets me apart from the mainstream 'bus' tourist, we share something in common: we are all looking for new experiences. And I might be the worst travel addict yet. Being 'addicted' to living through new experiences motivated me to undertake this journey in the first place. And, after arriving to La Paz, pushed me in taking a tour myself: going to the pampas and viewing many wildlife species (so I was promised): capybaras, alligators, caymen, turtles, many types of birds and anacondas. The name Pampas can be confusing: here it is used for the Amazon savannas/wetlands. And I got to see it all, except for the anacondas that were hiding in the mud. That caused several Israeli travellers from another group (all the tours find themselves going up and down the same stretch of river and marshland) to complain, claiming they were lied to. That is the presumptuous side of the traveller, not getting what he wants and, as a result, acting as a toddler. As for Israeli travellers, they have a bad reputation in South America. Coming straight out of the army, many Israelis use their well earned money to travel. Traveling in groups most of the time, they are often noisy, aggressive and disrespecting local values. This was my experience 14 years ago and and it seems to be still the case. For this reason you will find various hostels in South America denying access specifically to Israelis. Why are many of them acting the way they do? There is probably no straightforward answer to the question. Events in (recent) history may have caused them to be suspicious towards anyone outside of their own country. Or maybe they are being brainwashed during their service in the army. Whatever the reason, it is a shame to see them isolate themselves from others due to their behaviour.

But back to the story: I felt exhilaration going down by bus from the sierra to the selva. Everything smells different: from plants to the air and the soil (people smell the same though). A whole new experience altogether! I have been in the rainforest before, in Iquitos, Peru and back then I got malaria. So maybe I should have known better; because out of nowhere I got sick, real sick, the initial exhilaration was completely gone. Instead, I was suffering severe diarrea. The female housekeeper at the lodge thought it was a good idea to give me a strong cup of coca tea as coca cures about everything. The next thing I know, I am vomiting my guts out, leaving me feel utterly miserable. All I wanted was to go back to the high sierra! No bugs, no humidity and no 35+ degrees temperatures. Thank god I had a plane ticket out instead of having to face the same bumpy 20 hours' bus ride over dirt roads (and passing sheer cliffs). On the positive side: Markus, a Swiss guy I met at the 'airport' (a patch of cleared rainforest) and me had an enjoyable conversation with a group of Israeli travellers. Which proved to me I have to remain open towards any prejudices I might foster.. In a local puesto de salud (health center) in La Paz, I had an examination done and the results showed traces that could indicate the presence of salmonella. In other words, not 100% sure but it could have been salmonella. I like the mysticism that surrounds such a diagnosis. Fourteen years I was trembling all over due to fevers that came exactly every 12 hours, temblando con escalofrias (feeling warm and cold at the same time), which strongly suggested malaria. But (as the nurses in Iquitos told me) after having received a treatment consisting of 11 pills at once which I was administered when encountering - by much luck - a boat dedicated to health care on one of the tributaries of the Amazon river, no certain proof can be given afterwards of my alleged malaria contraction. But is it not 'cool' to maybe have suffered malaria and salmonella? But who knows, I could have imagined it altogether! To conclude: my body is not made for the rainforest. And I prefer cycling over tours. And not all Israeli travellers are bad!

So that is that. It was time to hop on the bike again: from La Paz I took the bus to Oruro (busy road with lots of traffic) and started cycling from Oruro to Potosi. There is a (dirt) road going straight from Oruro to Uyuni and the salt flats but I wanted to see Potosi and its silver mine. But getting there meant climbing and descending many mountain slopes! It took me almost four days to get to Potosi, with the last days day being especially tough: since Potosi lies at an elevation of 4100 m it meant climbing the last 15 km, after a 100 km mountainous ride, leaving me completely tirado. Potosi is known for its silver mine, which I was not planning to see since I get claustrophobic in small confined spaces. However, when I was looking around the mine's premises, waiting for the museum to open its doors (and see a glimpse of the mine's history and life of the mineros) I accidentally bumped into a friendly German-Swiss couple who had been travelling and working in South America for the last three years. My curiosity got the better of me, and after I was given some proper boots, a jacket and a headlamp by their guide, a minero himself, we entered what was for many still a means of making a living. Women are not allowed in the mine, although for tourists an exception is made. In the mine many figures of tios (representing el diablo) are found, which must be satisfied with gifts like coca leaves, alcohol and cigarets to assure a safe and prosperous yield and return. This is clear proof of local beliefs that have survived the test of time and Spanish domination who tried to rule out local superstition. I probably would not do it again, but it was a fascinating experience, many times crawling on all fours to make it from one corridor to the next, just as the local miners who were working alongside.

One of the highlights of my trip must have been cycling the Salar the Uyuni, the second largest salt plains in the world after the Makgadikgadi Salt Pans in Botswana. Once a giant lake, it dried up and was uplifted to its current elevation of about 3600 m. And indeed, it consists of salt, lots of it. Many tourists, many tours, but who would take a tour if you can explore the salar by bike:-). To enter the salar you first have to navigate a bad dirt road and then cross over to the transition zone, which consists of half-hard mud, making it almost impossible to cycle (fast or at all). So it took me a couple of hours to cover the 30 km to finally reach the beginning of the salar. There, on the edge of the salar, was a salt hotel where I ordered a coffee before taking off. It is difficult to describe the experience but I actually got tears in my eyes from the vastness and sensation of liberation that accompanied it. You find yourself pedalling in a vast, seemingly endless nothing, or wholeness for that matter. Quality time with yourself is found while crossing s salar by yourself. At some points I was taken over by 4x4's, the tourists inside taking pictures of me.

Mira, for me Bolivia had highs and lows. But the matter of fact is that Bolivianos are quite closed towards foreigners, they open up only when you are really get to know them or when you are introduced by a local. This was confirmed by two Bolivian girls (Lisette and Gladys) with whom I shared my second-day tour from the Incahuasi Island on the salar to visit some of the lagunas and flamingos towards the Chilean border. Add the mediocre food (arroz con papas, some meat and untasty, hard white bread), the feeling of being tired (the height, or rather one of the antibiotica treatments, who will tell?) and the inevitable stomach problems and you understand I was ready to enter the next country. So with some nostalgia but more relief I crossed the border to La Quiaca, Argentina, where the coffee is proper again and the bread fresh.

After covering 1600 km in South America and 4600 km in total, I find myself in the middle of my cycling trip. It has been great so far and I am expecting and hoping the remaider of my trip to be equally interesting, rewarding and satisfying! And thanks for all the comments. They are appreciated!