So...very...cold...

Our junky car needs the head start, so while the bathers change back into dry clothes, we speed ahead to Laguna Blanca. Angel is a weird driver. I like that he's responsible but he's so slow that the other car passes us constantly. He also tends to bypass paths that go closer to the lakes, and sometimes during what appear to be patently obvious photo-op points we still need to ask to stop. Laguna Blanca is case in point.

Blanca isn't really very white, more of a creamy seafoam green. But it's right next to Laguna Verde, the big draw of day 2, which is a STUNNING shade of green due to copper in the water. Very small compared to Laguna Blanca, and unfortunately the wind this afternoon is incredibly strong—not exactly a peaceful, reflective stop. Angel says it's always like this in the afternoons. I'm not sure if that means tours from Tupiza never catch Laguna Verde perfectly still the way it appears in tourism posters, or if Angel is just exaggerating.

There is a smaller, lighter green pool with flamingos, but Angel does not drive closer. By the time I walk down they move away.

Next we drive through gorgeous high-altitude desert, as red as Wadi Rum. One of the places we pass is called Salvador Dali's desert, apparently because of the "natural sculptures." They look like rocks. I mean, maybe if Angel had driven closer than a kilometer away from them I could make a better judgment but I still say, rocks.

Our final stop is the geysers, which are VERY cool, but at a windy 5000 meters we are far too chilly to stay long. Steam rushes over the brown, muddy bubbling holes against a beautiful red mountain background. Lighting unfortunately does not contribute to good photos from this spot...again I wonder if the timing of coming from Tupiza is the culprit.

We're driving in a hurry now, unsure if Angel is more concerned about beating the sun or beating the other car—not in a serious way, of course. Our basico pension for the night is right near Laguna Colorada. Once again...so cold! There is a stove that warms me unless I stand more than 2 feet away. This time, there is no shower option at all.

Dinner is delicious, fattening and just what I want. Chicken, fries and plantains—hearty stuff. Gilles and Sonia agree with our overall assessment of Bolivian food—too bland, yet strangely salty at the same time. But thanks to Mercedes, on this tour we finally enjoy eating again.

The other group is clearly bonding. We are not. Angela informs us she doesn't mind swimming in cold water because her body is so tiny she doesn't get cold. Angela also notes with some amazement that Germans are known for being humorless, but Michael is surprisingly funny.

Tonight, Hemmy and I share a room with the French couple, who are getting hornier by the day.

The beds in the pension are literally made of rocks with a thin mattress of cotton batting. The stove that only provides minimal heat is not replenished after dinner, so bitter chill comes quickly. It's so cold here I could almost cry myself to sleep, but I'm afraid my eyes might freeze shut.

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