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.