Lomas De Arena

Our Uber turned off the normal road, and started bumbling down a dirt path that was barely passable. We hear a loud thud and our driver looks visibly disturbed. I’m pretty sure a part of his car just fell off onto the road, and I say a silent prayer that it wasn’t important.

“Dear God, please don’t let that car part be important. Unless of course this Uber is not actually going to the sand dunes and is instead going to sell us into sex trafficking, in which case, please let that car part be very important. Basically what I’m asking is, if this car is going to take us to the sand dunes, let us get their safely. If it’s going to take us somewhere sketchy, let us safely avoid that. Please. Thank you. Amen.”

We reach what is officially “the entrance to the park” and I swear we are in Jurassic Park. We are surrounded on all sides by “monte.” The trees are so tall you can barely see the tops, and I’m pretty confident if I stared for long enough I would see some sort of snake, spider, or otherwise unappetizing monster.

As our car comes to a stop we are met with a series of bizarre looks that I would describe as equal parts humor and confusion. “Why are these gringas here?”

Honestly, I ask myself the same thing. The park rangers inform us that there is no way our driver can take us any further into the park, and that we can walk if we want, but it will require us to cross two rivers full of unknown monsters. Then, the classic Bolivian negotiation. The rangers are willing to drive us to the park, and show us around…for a small price.

After almost no back and forth, better not to risk being trapped in this unknown jungle, we settle on a price, and get into the park rangers truck. As we begin bumbling down the "road" the truck barely managing through the unkempt sand and stones, I say another silent prayer of gratitude.

"Dear God, thank you that the Uber driver didn't try to kill us. Thank you that the park rangers didn't let our Uber driver take his broken down Suzuki down this ATV path. Thank you that this truck has legroom so my knees don't slam into the seat every time we go over a bump. Amen."

I quickly end my prayer of gratitude, just in time to watch our car go head first into the muddy residual water of the river.

"PS thank you that we didn't just drown in that river."

As our car starts to nose out of the river, the jungle around us begins to recede. Slowly, the trees and vines fade away, being replaced with endless and vast dunes of sand. The driver pulls over, and let's us out, telling us he will return in an hour. I am 85% sure that he will, but I grab all my things just in case.

Kathleen and I hop out of the truck, and begin to walk along the sand dunes. I quickly kick off my shoes, eager to feel the sand between my toes. We continue to walk, and my mouth falls closer and closer to the floor. Everywhere we look are beautiful, untouched sand dunes, with rippled paths from where the wind has blown.

This is the first time since we have arrived in Bolivia where I cannot hear any traffic, see anything man made, or smell any garbage. I am in awe.

This whole adventure was admittedly, pretty scary. Between my only medium Spanish skills, genuine distrust of Ubers, and constant fear of being abducted, I was pushed out of my comfort zone for sure. But seeing the sand dunes, connecting with something so natural, and finally getting to just be in Mother Nature's space again, made that discomfort so worth it.