Veintidos.

There is train cemetery near Uyuni. Glandules still looks sweet, although on the place too much plastic trash. In Bolivia not so much garbage than in Peru, but suppose it is a simple matter of time. Actually, it was a little bit stupid to take photos at the place, which was created especially for photo taking. More pleasant to get into a beaten wagon and just look through window-in-the-past at the whirlwinds outside. Crumpled steel and strong winds make interesting sound effects, right. Also, is it a right choice to spend more time as you can in the wagon , the sun, and 4000 m altitude outside can morph you to grilled chicken just in 20 minutes.

Veintiuno.

Happy like an apple (rolling down and down!) left Potosi at early morning. Business was looking well until I guessed to ask road workers smth like that: "Is it a road to Uyuni, right, dudes?". Bah! Sure, it was a road to Oruro. Damn. Turning back, fifteen km uphill? Gun me down. So, first hitchhike experience in Bolivia - one truck gave me a lift back to Potosi. Anyway, I couldn't skip uphills climbings. I did only forty km at that day, one-half climbing up (puffed like a grampus), one-half rolling down. Close by sunset tried to speak about camping with some local grannies, but they were absolutely crazy. I mean, crazy and dangerous for the wider public, no jokes. Sometimes global poverty could tell by you really interesting stories. Alright, I slept near the main road, there are no any free places for camping and was waiting for the Bolivian bandidos, but nobody came. Woke up next morning, ate all my nuts, drank some water, exploded two sticks of dynamite and got under way. All bones were painful after yesterday alpinism. Ten km more - and no more any asphalt, huh. What the fuck up, is it interesting and smart expedition or road to the Calvary? Second hitchhike experience even was funnier than the first one - I flagged down three petrol tankers, some oil to wastelands from rich Tarija. A driver was a yummy, all the way he ate coca leafs and drank Bolivian vodka. Nevertheless, six hours after we got into the town. Goodbye, Potosi. Salud, Uyuni.

Veinte.

Potosi, officially, the most high-altitude town in the world (not true). Potosi is mines, dust, and dynamite. I bought my part at miner's market and after that came down to mines. It was a mistake, coz before guy asked: "Is anybody has asthma or some shit like that?". I didn't feel like to specify what kind of asthma did he mean (allergic one counts or not?), how wrong I was. Fucking dust! A narrow digs are almost ok, but fucking dust! Ten kg. on the back didn't help you if rolling down like a ball to a wellhole, and after that climbing up. It so stupid to be a miner. U haven´t money? Steal! Rob! Eat cakes! But forget about miner's career. I forgot about miners once a got out from a hill and smoked a cigarette. They could buy tons and tons of dynamite and do everything that they want, but instead of this, they prefer to rail at fate (Evo talking about to lend a hand of help to Chilean miners, but never has visited this place!) and to be a gringo o's attraction. What a shame. I've reached the age of twenty-five there. Well, whatever the case, I've got a good present.