The farewell from my travel companions was terribly chaotic and hectic, due to a series of misunderstandings, and did not do justice to our time together: an extensive search for the car rental turned into a panicked sweat-inducing drive with Namibian driving style and a speed of 180 km/h, topped off by the universally loathed rush at the airport. A few tears later, I flew off to the next leg of my journey - alone. Even a bag of nuts couldn't fill the strange hole in my stomach, so I spent a few restless hours at Johannesburg Airport before it was finally boarding time to São Paulo.
São Paulo is a gigantic city, Sebastian is an excellent host, and the view from his balcony is unbeatable. Arriving in this megacity on a Sunday was a true blessing after the confused thought circles of the previous day. After a relaxed bike tour through the pleasantly empty city, we celebrated my first evening on South American soil with (literally) intoxicating mojitos, and I quickly acclimated. The hole in my stomach transformed into a tingling of anticipation for everything that awaited me.
During the next few days, I explored São Paulo by bike, on foot, from above, from below, culturally and culinarily, and deemed it to be good; why this city is so disliked, I only partially understand. The next goodbye and the next flight came way too quickly. Sebastian, it was a dream! My time in Bolivia started off appropriately with a hair-raising drive from the airport to the hostel and buying 1000g of nuts (how do you say 100 again?). In Santa Cruz, I mostly used my time for extensive visits to the market and subsequent meals alone; in La Paz, I finally rediscovered my social side and spent interesting, exhausting, and above all, very funny days with dear Isabel from Austria.
After a disturbing ride on a night bus, both I and luckily the passengers who boarded the bus in the luggage compartment(!) arrived at our destination, the white city of Sucre, safe and sound. Only my backpack suffered from being squished.
Sucre is a beautiful colonial city where you can buy Swiss Army knives and delicious fruit, among other things. However, I didn't stay there for long because the salt flats were calling louder and louder - so off to Uyuni!
In the next bus, I met Ramez, my travel companion (and photographer ;)) for the next while, by saving him from being left behind in the barren desert landscape by our carefree Bolivian bus driver.
Upon arriving in Uyuni, we checked out several tour operators, bargained like there was no tomorrow, got sunburnt in the high-altitude sun, and ended up in a Jeep with an incredibly friendly group of Spaniards and Frenchwomen. The next day, it took us to the probably most surreal place I have ever seen. The endless white of the Salar de Uyuni burns the eyes, makes mountains appear as if they were floating in it, and distances become immeasurable.
The magic didn't stop in the following days; countless flamingos in black lagoons, red lagoons, and colorful lagoons were followed by freezing feet in the morning when visiting massive geysers (at -10 degrees Celsius).
I also didn't regret the spontaneous trip to Chile for a second. With llama sniffs on horseback, fire-red rocks against bright turquoise water, and a torturous bike tour through the high desert with two Dutchmen (never again), San Pedro became a true delight.
In Santiago de Chile, I finally got to visit a winery again. I had missed those little grapes. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time in this lively city because I had to reach Machu Picchu before the heavy rains arrived! I said goodbye to Ramez, called an Uber, hopped on a plane, and voila, I was in Lima!
