Arriving back at Sol Atacama at four in the morning, opening the door and finding our hostel owner, Andres himself scantily clad in swimshorts and sandals, half strewn across the ping pong table. We didn´t know where to put ourselves and tried to quietly sneak to bed when the beast awakes. He angrily approaches us saying ¨where have you been?!¨ Octavia was quivering at this point and all we wanted was a mug of matte and a pillow. We meekly replied, that we had been to a lame party with Victor. Shit hits the fan, beer is spilt, ping pong bat hurled into our clean washing, we scurry into a corner and poise for defense as Andres expresses ¨but why? Victor! he hurt you? This is my problem. You come to my hostel, we have fun, play ping pong, have a laugh, then you leave me at night.¨ Ocs had a dumbfounded expression on her face and I couldn´t hold the laughter off. Creeping towards my mug of tea, I turn round to see Andres face-planting himself on Octavia, which she nimbly dodged to avoid floppy fringe in eye and a severe case of Chilean cretinism. Eventually we escaped to our room, only to hear Andres prowling outside and I kid you not ringing up his relations to form an army against Victor and hostel, and yes his distant cousin, Juan, arrived on the doorstep the next morning. The most terrifying human being we have ever seen, missing tooth, you name it.
It was time to flee yet again, before we too risked a machettieing from Andre and clan. We took a quick trip to "Valle de la Luna" which was incredible, and also saw the incredible sights of "Valle de la Muerte", or, Valley of Death which we would have quite happily pushed Andre into at that moment in time. We arose the following morning at 4am to embark on our much anticipated salt flats journey to Bolivia, praying for some slightly more decent company. Who do we end up seated beside in our 4WD, but "Urma," the most terrifying Norweigian lesbian alive, three times our age, and claiming to be the "grandpa" of the group, shaved head, with a serious case of "I know everything." We were, however, blessed with a gorgeous guide by the name of Mauritio who led us over the border and past the most spectacular white, green and even RED lagoons, from where Flamingo´s get their pigmentation. We stopped for a delicious lunch by some Volcanic "geysers", narrowly avoiding being spat in the eye by molten sulphurm and had a dip in some hot springs with a fantastic view. The two nights we spent on the tour were equally amazing, especially as at 4800 meters above sea level, Rosie and I wore our entire rucksack and sleeping bag to defend ourselves against frostbite.We finally hit the salt flats on our final day, with an early rise to watch the sun come up. It was the most amazing day, and we have some very cliched photos coming up, beware. Once arriving in Uyuni, we were shown this incredible train wreckage, which had been there for years, such a fantastic tour considering we had paid cheaply and were expecting our guide to be drink driving acroos the salt flats in our jeep- a tale we had heard many times before. We got off lightly.