Don’t drink in Bolivia

I woke up at 4 am with an insane headache. I tried to work a bit, but it didn’t work. So I just laid down in mental pain, letting the hours pass, wondering what to

I woke up at 4 am with an insane headache. I tried to work a bit, but it didn’t work. So I just laid down in mental pain, letting the hours pass, wondering what to do with my life. Then I realized: I was suffering from altitude sickness!

The air is lying on top of our land and it’s thickest near the sea, as it is a little bit “heavy”. And the higher you reach, the less air you get, and the more “space” so to speak. And this means less oxygen to breath. San Pedro was at 2400 meters, but Uyuni is at 3700 meters, and that was too much for me.

And drinking yesterday, on our first day here, was the worst idea ever, which I understood from reading the Wikipedia article. My dad was an alcoholic, and it sucked. To not become one myself, I’ve decided to be sober at least a day a week, at least a week a month, and at least a month a year. And I think it works. If I had read Wikipedia, I would have made Bolivia my sober week. Next time :p

I met with the two Austrians, who also felt a bit bad. They decided to stay though, going to the salt tours etc. We went together to buy some coca products, which is a way that South Americans typically treat altitude sickness with. These contains about 1% of the active ingredient used in refined cocaine, so drug-wise it’s about as dangerous as drinking a light beer.

I started surfing for cities to go to. According to Wikipedia, the best is to go the last level where you felt good, and “rest” there. So I decided for Sucre, which is 2800 meter above the sea. A bit more than San Pedro, but I guessed it’d be alright. Bolivia is a large country – twice of Sweden – and the bus roads are quite bad, so it takes a long time to travel. And I love a big city.

I was so stupid that I read an article for a long time without understanding it, until I realized it was in Spanish. I had half a banana for breakfast, and then bought a bus ticket to Sucre. An Englishman started talking to me, but I just felt like sitting alone, eat my coke candy and take pictures.

Empty rivers

We changed buses in Potosí. I loved that city. Every single part of it. I don’t know if it was the coca feelings that struck me, or if it was just so nice to be in a real city with shops and people everywhere (Potosí has 150,000 inhabitants compared to Uyuni’s 30.000). I didn’t stay here though, as we’re now at 4000 meters, the highest I’ve ever been.

They put all the foreigners in the back seat, so here we are, me, three Germans and the talkative Englishman. I’m not that talkative though, and neither are them. I guess we’re all suffering a bit.

The most beautiful parts of mountains is where they change heights. And definitely now!

We’re going down! To the health! For a long life! A head that works!

This is Sucre. I loved it too.

I got out the bus and started walking to a very nearby “hostel”. They sold me a private room for five euro.

A symptom of altitude sickness is a thick face. But I think I look like normal.

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