I'm joyously sitting in my La Paz hotel room, typing away on my trusty 4.3 pound Sony Vaio® laptop, hooked to a free broadband wireless connection. I've been traveling for many years without such comforts, which is perhaps why I feel a little guilty having such easy access. I tuck myself away behind closed doors, trying to keep up the charade that I am still a hardened traveler to the core. The reality is that I like these creature comforts - especially when they are few and far between. When following the traveler's trail, it's always nice to take a little divergence back into civilization to re-connect and re-group.

We flew into Santiago, Chile last week and began our northbound journey. It started with a flight from Minneapolis through Atlanta and eventually into South America (somewhere in the range of 13 hours). Upon landing it was apparent that Santiago was like any other cosmopolitan city; filled with car-choked streets, malls, ice cream, theatres and just about creature comfort you would expect from modern society; which is precisely why we went directly to the bus terminal to get the first coach out of town.

The bus system in Chile is fantastic, to say the least. The double-decker busses could stand up to any transportation I've ever been on - including world business class airline seats. The leather seats fully recline, giving ample leg room and positioning for a good night of snoozing. It's also worth noting that the $50 bus ride takes 19 hours, so without these comforts, I might have gone insane. We stopped a few places along the way to stretch our legs, but for the most part the bus took a direct route along the Pan-American Highway, through rocky deserts, to the industrial town of Antofogasta. From there, we took another 3 hour bus ride to Calama and then connected with another bus to the frontier town of San Pedro.

When The Amazing Race calls, we'll be fully trained and ready.

We could have gone directly to San Pedro, but I had this wonderful (read: stupid) idea of visiting a train graveyard in Baquedano, Chile. Using my best butchered Spanish, we found that there;s probably a reason why the trains stopped there and never went any further. It's hard to explain other than to say there's no reason to go there unless you really like trains. And if you do go there, you may never come out again.

Our final destination of San Pedro de Atacama is one of those dirt street backpacker/traveler towns that cater to people passing through from various tours around the region. The restaurants serve western affair and charge accordingly. In its own way, it's a great decompression chamber for those entering or leaving the Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia - which was the next destination on our list.

Booking the excursion was quite easy, as just about everyone in town is selling tours or water, or water and tours. After looking around for about an hour, the realization came upon me that all agencies were the same and that all trips were identical. Having an equally insane travel companion, we eagerly booked our Opus Dei-like self-punishment tour for 3 days, 2 nights at a cost of $90 US per person (inclusive of all park fees, bribes and water). We would leave the next morning; packing 7 people into the back of a Toyota Land Cruiser that most likely went M.I.A. from a suburban American garage years ago.

Along the way, we passed through stretches of desert and mountains that would make an excellent backdrop to the next NASA moon landing. Devoid of life in most of the places, I started to wonder why so many people suggested this trek. After a few hours of bouncing around in the dusty back seat of our Land Cruiser, it started to become clear at how beautiful this place really was. I can't possibly do it justice with words, which is why I took about a 1,000 photos along the way; many of which are blurry from trying to take them out of the window, whilst bouncing off the seat.

Three days later we reached the small town of Uyuni, Bolivia. We had become best friends with our travel companions from Germany and Venezuela, even learning a bit more Spanish along the way. In many ways, it was a bonding experience nobody is likely to forget very soon.

Dusy, un-showered and hungry, we all found a little bit of paradise in this modest backpacker town. We checked into a $6.25 a night guesthouse across the street from the train station. We were lucky to have arrived on one of the few days of the week that the train came through town. Having to wait until 1:30 in the morning for the train, we ended up with plenty of time to grab some pizza and a beer. How nice it was to be back on the road most traveled, even if that road is filled with half the twenty-something traveling Israeli youth and their European counterparts.

So I now sit at 3640 meters in La Paz, Bolivia. Breathing is difficult at this altitude. The simple act of putting on my sox on this morning caused me to lose my breath and have to take a short break. Checking email and watching CNN makes up for it all. Tomorrow, it's back to the dirt roads and crowded buses. At least I will sleep well tonight.