Perú/Bolivia - Part X (La Paz to Uyuni)

The trip from La Paz to Uyuni was horrible. I woke up and threw up. I can't say I've never felt that bad before, but one thing I can confess to, is that I've never had a bigger headache in my life, my head was throbbing. It was terrible. And the headache was just part of it. I tried to sleep it off, but sitting on a massive bus that is driving on a dirt-road for 13 hours, made it a little tricky, we even drove through a couple rivers. I was popping all kinds of pills, but no aspirin, because it thins the blood, and at high elevations that is no good.

I took 6 pictures the entire day (I would take 267 the following day alone, and averaged around 142 a day) so this will be a short post, and tomorrow will be a big one... the infamous Salar de Uyuni (Uyuni salt flats), the world's largest.
All 6 images were shot during our lunch break next to one of the rivers we just drove through (below), and the train tracks (which we seemed to cross 3 dozen times).

Just goes to show you, that you might live in a 'town' with 5 other families, in mud-brick houses, with no electricity, no shops... NADA, but you can still play a game of basketball... if you had a ball that is.
I was so happy the bus finally stopped, got some air... still felt horrible, but what can you do...?! I was in the most remote area I'd ever been in.... 7 hours south of La Paz and almost 4km closer to heaven.
When we got to the town of Uyuni later that night I was in for a surprise... not only was half the town not even paved, had limited electricity, and no hot water (I would soon find out), but... I would have the most amazing food ever.
Toñito Hotel, the self proclaimed "oasis in the desert" (and rightfully so), is run by an American called Chris and his Bolivian wife. They made such delights as nachos, authentic pizzas, homemade American-style pancakes (the Dutch people we were with didn't know what the hell was going on when my mom ordered massive pile of banana pancakes with syrup)... in a restaurant called Minuteman Pizza. As most Americans should know, the minutemen were a select group of militia men, primarily in New England, that were ready to fight off the British within... -you guessed it- a couple minutes.
I talked with Chris for a little while before dinner, talking about Massachusetts (where he was from) and living in NYC and photography and the such. It was very strange for me... imagine driving to the middle of no where (and I mean NO where), then driving some more, and coming across a small dusty village and walking into a restaurant adorned with pictures of Fenway Park (Red Sox stadium). It was strange, but somewhat comforting at the same time.
We had dinner, I had an amazing pizza, while my mom went for the nachos, and I was feeling generally good. The headache had vanished and my bowel movements (I'm talking both entry and exit areas) were once again somewhat normal. That was, until about 20 minute after dinner, when I ran up to my room and donated my pizza to the Bolivian drainage system... leave it up to me to have the most amazing food in weeks only to throw it up minutes (get it?!) later. I once again felt sick almost immediately, ended up going to bed around 9 and hoped for the best.
It seemed the Massachusetts memorabilia was just part of it... the eeriness continued with the picture that hung above my bed in the room:

The beaches of Belgium!!!