Ebifulumiziddwa: 17.04.2023
After the fried egg breakfast, I do a bit of research on Bolivia. Even though it may look manageable on the map, the country is twice the size of Germany and very diverse with the Andean highlands and the Amazon basin, etc.
It's market day in Uyuni and I walk bent under the awnings of the market stalls. The locals all walk around with braided palm fronds because of Palm Sunday. Religion definitely has a higher significance here.
I have already accepted that the Tunupa tour probably won't happen, but on my way to buy tickets to La Paz, I am offered a private day tour for €140. Still not a bargain, but what can you do. Of course, cash only. The employee accompanies me to the ATM and makes small talk with me about irrelevant things. The "office," a dark room on the upper floor above the bus ticket sales stands, already looks sketchy, but at least I get a receipt. We'll start early tomorrow morning.
Back at the hostel, I realize during the booking process for the next hostel in La Paz that my credit card is missing. I probably left it in the ATM. Shit. The local branch of Bancofie, as the bank is called, is closed on Sundays, of course. The hotline is also not very helpful and tells me to contact my bank.
Fortunately, I can easily block the card temporarily in the DKB app (this is not paid product placement, but highly recommended).
At the market, I buy a giant avocado and bread that is way too greasy and eat it in the courtyard of the beautiful hostel colonial building.
In the evening, a brass band starts playing, and the hostel owner tells me that this happens every Sunday evening. I briefly watch the spectacle. Around 30 military personnel are playing music while at least another 30 stand in a stiff row next to them, like those freeze artists you see in pedestrian zones. Exhausting. A few locals are scattered around them and occasionally applaud.