Snow Informer

God I feel guilty. I just went into a restaurant, up to some local people happily eating lunch and demanded to see the menu in pigeon Spanish. Let me elaborate. There were three people sitting at a table, no-one else about and one of them was the spit of every waitress I've ever had since getting into Peru and Bolivia. Oh God, this is where it all starts - it's a mere hop, skip and a jump from here to shaving my head and stating that Bernard Manning was a misunderstood genius. Christ. She really wasn't happy either, so I decided to do the right thing and sit outside. So embarrassed. I said 'lo siento', which I think means 'I'm sorry', but judging by the reaction it may as well have been, 'Nice moustache, fatty', which would have been entirely accurate, but possibly inappropriate given the circumstances.

Uyuni is the starting point from which you take the now legendary salty flat tour, that takes in the various natural wonders surrounding the southern areas of Bolivia. Literally everyone loves this tour and since I arrived every single person has shown me photographs or gushed enthusiastically about the bizarre and unique landscapes that make up the tour. (Another) one not to miss then. I wasn't sure how a huge mass of salt - deposited after sesmic activities filtered out a massive lake - was gonna make it into my top five things to gush enthusiastically and show photos of, but I was keen to find out. It's a three-day tour and after an evening in Uyuni where some Nottingham lads got banned from the hostel for putting Bruce Forsyth, 63 years old down as their contact details - seemed funny at the time - I got a good night's sleep, met my tour group and day one began with the spectacular salt flats themselves.

So two hours in and there we were. The climax of the trip started, curiously, at the very beginning, but when we got there.... I don't know what it is, maybe it had been built up too much, but I found the whole thing a little underwhelming. Was I missing the point? Frankly, I can't see it. But to me, after the magic of Machu Pitchu or the terror of Yungas Road, it all seemed to pale (it was all white) into insignificance. Maybe that's a bit strong, the lack of scale provided by an all-white horizon allows for 'crazy' pictures like above, but really I couldn't help thinking the whole thing would have been much more exciting for people who'd never seen snow before. It is indeed a unique landscape and I'll probably never see anything like it again, but sadly it didn't envoke the passion or pant-quaking wonderment those before me clearly felt.

The rest of the tour went by the book. We saw more amazing sights than you can shake a llama at and a couple of charming Irishes meant there was some good craic as well. Green lakes, red lakes, flamingoes in a stinking sulphur lake actually called Stinking Lake, but I have to say, the most extraordinary sight for me was a distant late-night lightning storm which fired up the star-encrusted sky and mountains far away. No pictures of that, obviously. Truly beautiful. There were also hot springs to get into, but these were detrimental to me in two ways:

1) Everyone else seemed to be the same shade and carved from mahogany, whereas I seemed to be the same shade and carved from raspberry jelly.

2) I said 'doesn't he ever shut up?' about a loudmouth private in the British Army to his commanding officer accidently. Got changed pretty sharpish after that.

Finally, today is a day to celebrate. For the past three weeks I have been suffering from an acute case of traveller's bottom and as such have enjoyed nothing other than fizzy gravy or man-pats in the seemingly endless feud between my digestive system and the toilet. Today though, dear and dare I say it, concerned readers, my arse has been spared this acutely perpetual onslaught and I passed a good old-fashioned English brown trout. I was so relieved I almost cried. Whereas once I considered I had bitten off more than I can poo in South America, I can now rest easy in the knowledge that I am finally victorious in World War Poo. Just thought you might like to know - today shall ever more been known as P-Day.

A late thanks to Matt from the post before last for assuring everyone that the fanny on my face was not the only fanny in the vicinity. Thanks for that. And also to Steve for getting involved on the anecdote front and blasting my so-called difficult journey out of the water with one of his own. Good work, son. Rob has also finally verbalised his feelings, which I'm sure has been enormously cathartic for you, mate. Know that I feel the same. Don't judge us. I might quickly add that I'm now in Chile after a last-minute change of plans. It's nice here, but a bit pricey. More to follow.