Many a hippie's brain could have been saved in the 60's had they just come to Bolivia. (They'd probably all have Daniella Westbrook noses though)

Ululi and the Salt Lake
We’ve dragged ourselves off the bus after no sleep at all. I’ve read most of The Davinci Code and I only started it yesterday. Thankfully it was dark outside on the journey – I think we all would have had heart failure if it wasn’t. The bus driver was a nutter – he was wearing a bloody baby suit after all. The roads were so bendy that we almost fell out of our seats as he took the corners. My nerves are shot. We’ve hung around in a tiny, dusty and airless travel agents for a few hours, had our passports stamped to exit Bolivia and we’ve squeezed into a tiny jeep with 4 others. We’ve just had the most weirded out trip ever – and we’re sober.

What a mad place. The desert starts as soon as you leave Ululi. The first thing we come across is a disused railway station. It looks like something out of a western. Then we reach the ancient sea bed. Stunning, fascinating, freezing, scorching and down right bizarre. Miles and miles and miles of just white with a sprinkling of huge rock formations here and there that look like they are floating in mid air. It’s an optical illusion caused by the salt and the light. After driving about 2 hours we eventually reach the salt hotel - a whole building made out of salt. You can actually stay there. It smells awful inside, but they’ve got bedrooms with furniture made of salt as well as the walls. Mad.