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Wooling Away Cold, Willing Down Tea in Laguna Colorada, Bolivia
Bitter. The Coca tea we were drinking. The coarse highland, inland, no-man-should-be-in-this-land kind of air. Seven of us piled under seven llama wool blankets each. Someone heard reports of -15 C. By day I saw what was one of the most vivid and stark landscapes I'd ever visited. Crayola must make their red crayons here. Every hue of red in the color spectrum emerged from Laguna Colorada. By night, the concrete walls of what the tour company dubbed a 'hostel' exuded the foul stank of sulfur. The other option within 400 km of here was the adjoining sheep shed but I decided on the native, inanimate wool over that of the more lively denizens out back.
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