Sucre & Potosi

Eager to make the most of our last week with Cami in Bolivia, we decided a three-day trip through Sucre and Potosi, two of Bolivia’s most impressive cities, would be the perfect way to do so.

After another long, cold, overnight bus ride we arrived in Sucre early on Tuesday morning. A very aesthetically interesting city, Sucre is filled with Colonial-style, white buildings that remind me of a typical European scene. Sucre is politically a very important Bolivian city, as it remains the country’s first and true capital. La Paz is now considered the capital having won the war against Sucre for the status as capital, and as a result, the government moved to La Paz.

We have now become accustomed to arriving in cities in the very early hours of the morning when absolutely nothing is open; so we spent the first few hours of the day sitting in the city’s main Plaza (just as we were forced to do in Cochabamba weeks earlier). However it is a great way to take in the atmosphere of the city and to appreciate the architectural beauty of the surrounding buildings. 

By the time it ticked over to 9am we were grateful to see the doors of one of the nearby cafés opening so that we could regain some energy with a big breakfast, and to give us the chance to plan our day in Sucre.

Having only just left the café an hour later we were interrupted by a mass of young children marching in protest of the degradation of the environment. Each separate class of children was dressed each in a unique theme to reflect their personal argument about the topic. The protest was characterised by children dressed as animals, clouds, trees, the ocean and some infants were cleverly dressed in costumes made entirely of recycled juice wrappers. After snapping a few photos of these gorgeous children we made our way to the Casa de la Libertad – the National History Museum.

For only a small fee of 15b (approx $2), we were taken on an interesting journey through the museum and subsequently the history of Bolivia, knowledgably narrated by a Bolivian guide. The history of this fantastic country has to interest anybody…the fact that the Bolivians have been robbed of so much over the centuries- their silver, their coastline and their territory, and the way that they continue to fight for even the smallest victories in the present day. The tour lasted over an hour and was well worth the money, and as Bolivia lacks the funds to maintain its museums and galleries, the museum wouldn’t have been overly insightful without the addition of the guide. 

I’m not going to dwell on this point, but it is in some ways upsetting visiting the museums and galleries in this country that have clearly seen better days. In the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Paz one cannot help but notice the way paintings are crammed next to one another, with some beginning to lose their paint. When in any first world country money would be poured into restoring these works, in Bolivia the funds are insufficient and as a result there is the possibility that they may eventually be lost forever.

On a lighter note, it was in Sucre that we absolutely had to try the saltenas (the delicious, meat-filled pastries that I have no doubt mentioned in previous blogs). Cami’s Rough Guide to Bolivia claimed Sucre was the home of the best saltena, however my more reliable Lonely Planet recommended Potosi as the saltena King.  After some serious comparisons at the lunch table, we all decided that it was in fact La Paz that served the best saltenas, and we were glad to get back to our favourite restaurant in Sopocachi – Pacena La Saltena.

Positioned in the centre of the main park in Sucre is Gustave Eiffel’s very own miniature creation of his famous Eiffel Tower in Paris. Eager for a walk after what seemed like hours of constant eating we ventured into the park and spent some time climbing the rather unexciting tower and taking some photos of the city. Being a big fan of people watching, I did enjoy relaxing in the park watching the people as they went about their daily routines.

We had then planned to visit the Textiles Museum, apparently a very impressive display of Indigenous textiles from some native groups in Bolivia, however it was unfortunately closed for reconstruction. By this stage it was the early afternoon and we had already booked a bus to Potosi for 6pm that evening. With no further recommendations as to ‘must-sees’ in Sucre from either guidebook, we spent the next few hours wondering the streets and admiring the truly unique colonial architecture that covered the entire city.

Despite having been given many warnings, nothing could have prepared us for the freezing temperatures that are [typical] of Potosi. We left the bus and swiftly made our way to our hostel, La Casona. After checking in to our twelve-bed dorm, we searched for a nearby restaurant to defrost and enjoy a quick dinner. We were delighted to find an authentic Italian restaurant a mere block from the hostel that served generous portions of pasta, and more importantly, was fitted with a big fireplace. We returned to the hostel fairly late that night and went straight to bed, eager to get a decent sleep before we entered the mines the following morning.

After believing we would have to traipse around for hours to find a reliable tour company, we were relieved to discover that our hostel arranged its own mine tours with an English-speaking guide.
For the next ten minutes we were all preoccupied arranging our outfits – the jacket, helmet, headlight, wide pants and stray rope. Unable to contain our laughter at the sight of five hopeless foreigners dressed as miners, we took some group photos and introduced ourselves to the others in the group. Tim, another British traveller, was a part of our tour and has become a friend of ours in the weeks since the mines, spending some time at our apartment and sharing many of his stories about his nine months in South America.

Before reaching the mines our minibus stopped at the “Miners Market” where we listened to an introduction about the mines and purchased some coca leaves, alcohol, gloves and juice for the miners. Each day the hundreds of miners enter the Mountain without a single scrap of food, and they survive purely off these gifts that are offered by tourists and are shared among the miners. We were also each lucky enough to try a swig of the 96% pure alcohol. As I took a sip it burned the skin around my lips and felt dry as it slipped down my throat.

Even before stepping into one of the many tunnel entrances that are scattered across the side of the mountain, the dangers to both the miners and subsequently the visitors are clearly evident. The safety regulations that would be legally enforced upon mine operators in many first world countries simply don’t exist in Bolivia.

There was only a thin, cotton facemask that separated each of us from the deadly asbestos and arsenic that is known to be present in the mines. Eager to embark on the journey, it is this thought that I stored away at the back of my mind to reflect on once out of the mines. We each took our last deep breaths of fresh air and followed two of the miners through a small tunnel into the mountain. We were told to be able to recognise two important commands when inside the mines; “Guarda”- be careful and “Tido” – RUN.

The inside of the tunnel is exactly as one would imagine, muddy floors, rocky walls and suspicious substances dripping from every surface. The Bolivian miners work with the most basic of tools – they chip away at the rock with the smallest of hammers, many of their trolleys are broken and must be pushed by the miners themselves (as opposed to wealthier mines when much of this work is electronic).

After climbing around a number of claustrophobic tunnels we were asked to climb a very unsteady ladder to which we would arrive at one of areas where the miners were performing the explosions. Eager to see this in action, I climbed the ladder and was greeted by two men drilling thirty cylindrical holes in the face of the rock. Probably the most frightening episode of the whole tour was in this small space… screaming in Spanish one of the miners came running at Nina, Cami, Seneca and I and cut a pipe which released a substance that sprayed all over us. While we were later told it was harmless gas, it was the whole scene which just made us nervous. As we made our way back down to a ‘safe spot’ to witness the explosion, we were all told to turn off our headlights and wait. Thirty small explosions in two-second intervals followed, and as we stood there in the pitch black I couldn’t help but compare the feeling to an electronic party. The adrenaline levels were certainly high at this point.

It is a very awakening, and at some times emotional experience entering the mines and seeing first-hand the harsh conditions that these men face each day. It is not only the visible dangers such as runaway trolleys and falling rocks that they must survive, but also the presence of asbestos and arsenic (left from the dynamite residue) that hide precariously in the air. 

For the next two hours we continued through the tunnels climbing further and further into the mountain, along the way meeting a number of friendly miners who gratefully accepted our gifts- which are mere necessities for these men. 

Our guide, Juan, an ex-miner himself, informed us that the lifespan of a Bolivian miner is much shorter than that of the average man. He explained many suffer from different forms of lung cancer as a result of the chemicals in the air and the masses of cigarettes smoked to prevent the lasting famine day after day.

As we climbed higher, the air became thinner, the temperatures hotter. At one stage our guide was warning us that the thick layer of grey residue on the rock is arsenic left over from the dynamite, and it was at this stage that I conveniently cut my hand on the rock. He assured me on numerous occasions that it is thankfully only harmful if swallowed.

As we retraced our steps along the muddy tracks towards the exit, we were taken to one last area where sat a carved figure blanketed with streamers, coca leaves and cigarette butts. “Tio” is the miners’ holy figure who ensures the miners work hard and continue to discover new deposits of the minerals. As an act of thanksgiving in return for his guidance, twice a year each cooperative sacrifices two llamas and splashes its blood on the walls behind where he sits.

The sunlight that streamed through the exit to the mines really was the light at the end of the tunnel after a suffocating few hours. Having only been in the mines for a total of three hours, a wave of relief swept over the group as we left behind the claustrophobic tunnels and unpleasant conditions. For the miners, however, this feeling of relief experienced each day as they finish work is replaced by the knowledge that they will return the following morning. The braveness of these men to overcome the difficulty of their work is the prevailing memory that remains long after the micro begins the steep descent away from Cerro Ricco.

That afternoon we visited the Casa de La Moneda (the Mint) which is located in the centre of Potosi. We opted for the Spanish tour because we had been advised to do so to get the most out of the visit. Unfortunately this advice did not apply to our guide who spoke so fast that none of us could understand her, and she rushed us through each of the rooms without giving us the opportunity to have a look around and grasp what each was about. The tour was average, and looking back I wouldn’t support the rave reviews that one will find on the National Mint in the guidebooks.

We had a few hours to kill before our bus back to La Paz, so we set ourselves up in one of the cafés on the Plaza. The hours passed quickly thanks to the café’s Jenga set that became our form of entertainment until 8:30 that evening when we headed back to the bus station.

Again I felt a great wave of relief as we arrived back in La Paz. Each time we leave what now feels like OUR city to explore Bolivia we are treated with a number of exciting and interesting experiences, however these never compare to the feeling of home that sweeps over us as we unlock the door to our apartment and salute Illimani who stands beautifully still in the distance.

Salar de Uyuni

It is incredible how short a time it takes for humans to feel at home in a new place. After an incredible five-day journey to the Salar de Uyuni, a sort of comfort came over me as we wound our way down the Prado into the heart of La Paz and everything became familiar again.

Before our journey to the Salar began, we had a big weekend in La Paz jumping from club to club to explore some of the most interesting nightspots in the city. Accompanied by our roommate Vampi and his friend Darko, we discovered the different atmosphere of Mongos (the club for ‘gringos’- foreigners), Traffic (known for its electric beats) and Blue (the quirky, slightly illegal spot that opens later than is allowed).

One by one we awoke on Sunday to the beautiful sunshine of La Paz and prepared ourselves for another ‘first time’ experience…a live football match between Bolivar and La Paz. This was not just any match however; it was in fact the battle for the championship trophy. Having attended and enjoyed a number of live sporting events back in Australia, I was curious to see how everything was treated in such a different country.

On arriving at the entrance to the stadium there were a number of cholitas selling what looked strangely like rectangular pieces of Styrofoam. The boys informed me that these serve as a cushion for the chairs in the stadium which I was told without the ‘cushions’, give you a very painful experience. As you can probably imagine things seemed a lot less serious in the stadium in La Paz compared to Australia…security was far more relaxed, the crowd was relatively tame (although still fun) and there was no alcohol sold on the premises.

The other obvious difference was the standard of the teams. As a group we had to laugh as ball after ball drifted far from the goalposts and resulted in a nil all draw at half time. In the second half the standard improved slightly with the end result seeing the popular Bolivar winning the game. It was definitely a worthwhile experience spent in good company.

The same evening we spent a dreadful ten hours on the bus to the Salar. Having been warned by a number of travellers of the horror that is the journey to the salt flats, I still remained surprisingly positive about the journey ahead. That is, however, until I experienced the serious rattling and bumping of the bus as it drove along the unsteady roads towards the Salar. Nina and I were also given the pleasure of sitting at the emergency exit (a sliding window that continued to open and blow freezing air over us for the entire duration of the journey)!

Functioning on a few minutes of sleep, we managed to bargain a 600 Bolivianos deal for a two night/three day tour of the Salar. Along with two French boys, two Korean women, two Australians, one Hungarian and one American guy we packed into the two jeeps that would become our means of transport for the following days.

It was at our first stop just out of Uyuni at the train cemetery that I had a devastating realisation. Having been rushed to pack due to the late start of the soccer match, I had left my camera battery on charge back in La Paz. Between us we were now left with only one digital camera.

After a few upsetting moments I decided to be positive about the fact that we at least had one camera, and that I would have a million other fantastic destinations to photograph over the next seven months.

From the train cemetery we moved on to a little village responsible for treating the salt and packaging it to then distribute to the surrounding cities. Incredibly the salt reserves that are found in Bolivia are hardly utilised, meaning the salt that is produced is transported only within the country. There are no exports of the salt meaning the poor economy misses out on the benefits from such a wealth of natural resources.

I will try to describe the absolute beauty of the Salt Flats however I feel photos and first hand experience are the only true way to appreciate the exquisiteness of the place. An incredible 2000km in circumference, the Salt Flats stretch out like a white blanket for as far as the eye can see. There are a number of layers of different minerals that compose the flats, with potassium, sodium, lithium, salt and water being the main ones. Along the flats are a number of pyramidal shaped igloos designed to dry out the salt so it can be taken to the next stage of the process. What is so fascinating about the salt flats is that while it seems there is a finite amount of salt, it is inexhaustible due to the fact that it ‘grows back’ after only a few days.

We spent an hour playing around with different camera effects and taking in the sheer enormity of the place before we were served with a traditional Bolivian delicacy, llama meat. It was served with vegetables and the typical Bolivian accompaniment of quinoa, and was rather tasteful.

After an hour or so driving across the salt flats we visited Isla Pescado, an island covered entirely in cacti. At the top of the Island we were treated to a stunning view of the salt flats which stretched for miles in every direction.

Before arriving at our hostel for the night, we made one last stop just as the sun was setting over the Salt flats. By this stage the water (which was previously absent) was now over a foot deep and as a result there were incredible reflections on the water of the surrounding mountains. Mouths agape we stood and admired the peacefulness of the site before we returned to the vehicles and drove the remaining hour to the hostel.  

Made entirely of salt, the hostel was a very basic structure positioned at the foot of one of the surrounding mountains. By this stage it was the evening and we could feel the temperature dropping rapidly, Nina and I both incredibly grateful for our down jackets. The building was made of salt bricks, the floor was composed of big salt rocks and the beds were concrete slabs with a mattress on top. As you can imagine, salt does not serve as a means of insulation and as a result we spent the evening clothed in every layer we had packed for the trip.

The following day was a busy one, with our first stop at the Volcan Tunupa. At the top of the volcano were a number of holes spitting smoke, the foot of the volcano was covered in orange boulders and the remains of previous lava explosions. After the volcano we spent the day moving from lake to lake, the most impressive in my opinion being Laguna Colorada. Maryam, Nina, Seneca and I had to laugh as we sat down to another delicious lunch with the most fantastic views of the lake and the mountains encompassing it. Lunch in the midst of the mountains was a truly surreal experience.

On making our way between the lakes we were forced to stop over at a check point at which sat five armed guards. After some seemingly relaxed conversation the driver of our vehicle handed over our bottle of fizzy orange drink and we were suddenly on our way again. After questioning our guide to settle my curiosity, I learned that the men were in fact soldiers that had been punished for failing to serve the captains’ orders during training. This could be firing two shots instead of one, or failing to move fast enough in the course of action. The reason they were so eager for a drink and not money was because as a punishment they were forced to race each other around the never-ending plains and only the winner was rewarded with a small portion of food or a drink.

As the sun began to set for the end to our second day we stopped over at the final lake which was a fantastic pink in colour. Also, the most exciting factor that differentiated this last lake from the others was that it was also the home of the native Bolivian flamingos. There were flocks positioned across the diameter of the lake and having never seen these birds in the flesh before I was amazed.

The second evening was spent in dormitory-style accommodation that, despite having been warned it would be less comfortable than the previous evening, I was pleasantly surprised at how much of a relief it was to have a concrete instead of a salt floor.

The evening was spent enjoying another delicious meal cooked by our friendly cholita and some red wine to try and warm up our insides. After dinner Abel, our tour guide, treated us to some of his famous jokes…many of which caused excessive laughter from the rest of us due to the meanings being lost in translation. With our 5am start in mind, I headed to bed at 11 to try and get some sleep.

Early the next morning in absolutely freezing temperatures we made our way to Laguna Verde. While its name translates to ‘green lake’, unfortunately it is only in summer that it is indeed green however we were still able to appreciate the site. Interestingly enough we were also informed that it is an important spot for scientists from around the world who visit the site frequently due to its stark similarities to Mars.

As the temperature had dropped freakishly low the next step in our journey was close to being the most satisfying. We shed our eight layers and dived into the hot spring which was at a comfortable 38 degrees. After our bodies had defrosted, we sadly had to dress and begin our eight hour journey back to Uyuni. Unfortunately our driver had a passion for Christian preaching music and so much of our journey was spent trying to heighten the volume on our iPods to block out the ranting.

Our bus trip from Uyuni to La Paz was much the same as the first trip, a horrible and uncomfortable ten hours. However this is such a small downside to the experience that even now I struggle to remember it. The lonely planet recommends this trip as one of the top ten things to do in Bolivia, and this is definitely the case. It is a breathtaking exhibition of the many wonders of nature and their power to capture the attention of travellers from across the globe.

Cochabamba... and Bolivian Protests.

At 11pm on Monday night, Maryam, Camilla, Seneca, Nina and I boarded the overnight bus to Cochabamba. We were delighted to find that by paying an extra 20 Bolivianos (about $3) on top of the average fare, we were treated to bus-style luxury. The seats reclined almost to a horizontal angle and there was mounds of leg room.

We arrived at the Cochabamba bus station at 6am before the rest of the city had woken, and as a result we were forced to spend a few hours in the horrible train station café. It did however allow us some time to plan the rest of our day and regain some energy.

Located almost directly behind the bus station is a giant hill with a statue of Christ standing on a pedestal with women and their children gathered at his feet. It was constructed to honour the women who fought against the Spanish invaders in the War of Independence in 1812 in Cochabamba. From the top of this hill there is a panoramic view of the city of Cochabamba encompassed by the ranges, a strange contrast to La Paz which looks down on the mountains.

The remainder of the morning was spent wondering through La Cancha, the enormous market in the centre of the city, and browsing through the streets of Cochabamba. One of the most spectacular sites is the Plaza 14^th de Setiembre. Filled with beautifully groomed gardens and a vintage stone fountain, the plaza is a very relaxed and popular spot to soak up the sun and watch the children feeding and playing with the pigeons.

A stark difference between Cochabamba and La Paz is the temperature. We unfortunately discovered this as we were making our way up to the top of the hill to the statue of Christ and were hit by a heatwave. When we reached the enormous Christ we were again treated to a fantastic view of the city and the surrounding mountains. Before ascending the mountain were proudly notified by a number of Bolivians that it is in fact slightly taller than the famous statue of Christ is Rio.

To escape the worst of the heat, we passed the afternoon immersing ourselves in the different cultural activities around the city. We visited the Natural History museum which appeared from the outside like a very run down, ghost house. The exhibition was hardly anything to get excited about as it contained few displays and was focused mainly on fossils, an aspect of history of which I am not overly interested in. However our visit to the Palacio de Simon I. Patino made up for it.

The Palace is an incredible mix of classic architecture and beautifully sculptured gardens. Patino’s wealth is evident in the fantastic interior design of the palace which contains a mixture of relics from all over the world. He was very interested in the artisans of Europe and had much of the art, furniture and fabrics that now decorate the interior of his palace shipped out to Bolivia from Europe. Surrounding the walls of the palace is a fantastic, Japanese-inspired garden which is a peaceful haven for many birds and animals alike. Unfortunately Patino died before he was given the opportunity to live in his dream home (as it took twelve years to finish), however his family still continue to visit the house.

What I found most fantastic about the palace is that it is now utilised as a cultural centre, and is the host of many exhibitions and formal meetings. I thought it quite unusual but at the same time very sensible that an historical site such as this continue to be utilised, as in many other countries palaces such as this remain untouched for fear of it being damaged.

Burritos and fresh juices were on the menu for both dinner and lunch that day…we were so impressed by both the taste and cost of the food at lunch that we had to return to the Mexican restaurant for dinner!

The rest of the evening we lazed around in Café Paris, consuming a gourmet banana split crepe and some freshly ground coffee, waiting to meet up with Mads, an ex-Bolivian Express intern who lives in the city. Due to a number of bus delays on her behalf as well as a scheduled departure time on ours, our gathering was fairly short lived. At 11pm that same evening we again boarded the bus expecting to arrive in La Paz at 6am the following morning…. how wrong we were!

The return journey was certainly the highlight of my trip to Cochabamba, and perhaps of my entire journey to date. At 5am our coach stopped in a tiny town known as Calamarka where  it remained stationary for the next 9 hours or so. After having drifted back to sleep after the initial stop, I woke again at 8am frustrated that we hadn’t moved a single metre.

Interested to see the cause of our delay, Nina, Cami and left the bus. We were each guessing at what it could be; laughing that it was probably a protest (considering I have not had a single day in Bolivia and haven’t seen a protest of some description). Ironically, we were correct. Our coach was one of about 100 other buses and cars stuck in a roadblock due to the work of a small Indigenous group of protesters.
Despite the fact that the bus drivers seemed not the slightest bit phased by the roadblock as if it were a regular occurrence, we were eager to take a closer look.

We approached the group of protesters to enquire about their motives for the protest, and they informed us that they were trying to get the attention of the government to better acknowledge Indigenous rights. They had worked all of the night to block the road with a large pile of rocks, on top of which stood a burning tyre and Bolivia’s Indigenous flag. We got a few photos with the men, and then the leader of the group grabbed the arm of both Cami and I and started dancing with us, much to the amusement of his friends.

Despite the fact that the protest could have been a dangerous environment for five obviously foreign travellers, we were treated incredibly kindly not only by the protesters, but also the policemen, the Cholitas and the local village people.

After an hour or so of viewing the protesters from a short distance, we returned to the bus to find two Cholitas cleverly positioned near the door to the bus. On noticing the build up of cars they had taken the opportunity to cook up an enormous batch of quinoa and salsa to serve to the hungry travellers. We feasted on two plates of quinoa with salsa and cheese; meanwhile the Cholitas laughing compared us to birds as we all huddled around to plate to peck at the food. It is small actions like this however that truly break the cultural boundaries and allow both us as foreigners to feel more like locals, and at the same time earns us the respect of the Bolivians who are impressed when we are eager to immerse ourselves in the local traditions.

A small, gorgeous little Bolivian boy was the focus of much attention for the next few hours as we watched him amuse himself with an empty coke bottle. It is so nice to see children who haven’t been exposed to the wrath of consumerism that is so prevalent in most first world countries these days.

This little boy was clearly a rascal as his mother was forced to chase him all over the place, but his gorgeous and very friendly persona obviously charmed her as it did everyone else who watched him. After he was used to us sitting near him, he came up and offered me the bottle, and for the next while we played games together.

After having sat at this tiny village for over four hours, we were offered by some Bolivians to share a micro for the last hour into La Paz for a small fare. Considering we hadn’t showered in over 48 hours, and because we still didn’t know when the roadblock would be cleared, we gladly accepted the offer and farewelled our temporary friends.
The police and the local Indigenous people negotiated an agreement and the protest ended in a very civil manner.

On Saturday night in a groovy little street known as Calle Jaen there was the ‘Night of the Museums’. We frequented the cultural evening for a short while however it was so crowded that the line to get into the museums stretched the entire lengths of the street. We shared some pizzas in a groovy little restaurant and enjoyed the live music and market stalls set up for the occasion. 

We did manage to slip into the photography exhibition where one of the designer from the Bolivian Express was exhibiting one of his photos. It was a fantastic shot of the champion Cholita wrestler of 2005 holding her victory belt above her head, although still dressed in her traditional Cholita dress. It was taken outside her very basic house and the contrast of the dull building with her bright attire was what made the photo so fantastic. We were all delighted to learn that Gato (the photographer) had also been one of the few artists to sell his photograph.

Later that same night we shared some drinks at home before heading out with our housemate Vampi and his friend Darko to Forum, one of the local clubs. We had a very enjoyable night dancing to the local music and hanging out with the guys.

Over the past few weeks we have been sampling all of the street foods in La Paz, all of which are very simple and delicious. Choripan is a crunchy baguette filled with a German-style sausage, tomato, lettuce and spicy sauces. Tocomanas are similar to saltenas (mentioned in the previous blog), but are fried instead of baked. Anticucho can be found on small barbeques after about 7pm and is beef heart with potatoes. Initially I was slightly hesitant to indulge in all of these meaty foods as I am not an overly keen meat-eater, however I felt it important to experience the culture of La Paz. The other thing I really value about street food in Bolivia is that it is a very social and relaxed atmosphere, as people often stop just for a few minutes and huddle around the Cholita as she prepares the meal, and then remain for a further few minutes to enjoy it.

It has been a busy few days at the Bolivian Express with deadlines approaching as well as our usual Spanish and journalism classes still keeping us occupied. We have now all written two articles for this month, and will do the same in the coming few weeks for the July issue.

The next few weeks however we have some serious plans for exploring more of the Bolivian countryside. I imagine my next blog will be a lengthy one as I recall the ins and outs of our proposed excursions. I hope you can wait until then…

Barbies & Bananas in Bolivia

A number of interesting, and in some cases unusual, things have happened since my last blog on La Paz…

La Paz is well known for it’s rich market scene and extensive range of products on offer at these markets. In fact, there is almost no need to make a trip to the supermarket. At our local Mercado Rodriguez, not only is there a diverse array of fresh bread, fruit and vegetables, but one can also find spices, nuts, barbie dolls, beauty products, bread, cheese, pasta, rice, toiletries, electronic appliances, cows tongues, fish, llama foetuses, clothing… and the list goes on. It is also nice to see the friendly cholitas (some of whom manage to transport all of their produce to and from the market in a bag slung across their back) on the receiving end of the payment as apposed to a faceless supermarket franchise.

While the market scene can be bustling and exciting, unfortunately it was also at Mercado Rodriguez that I had a rather confronting experience. Before arriving in Bolivia I had read a lot about the fact that, because the Bolivian culture remains very traditional, many of the cholitas are against tourist photographing them. However, as I had already spent a week in La Paz and hadn’t experienced any problems, I thought perhaps it had been an exaggeration. When, [however], I was taking a photo of one of the stalls with masses of apples piled on top of each other on the corner of a bench, the owner of the stall started screaming at me in Spanish. I walked away quickly fearing that my lack of Spanish would only aggravate her further. I understand why she was upset, and I felt very guilty, wishing I had been more careful to begin with.

On a lighter note, this day was also memorable as it was the first time I tried the traditional Bolivian delicacy of ‘Salteñas’. An ovular shaped pastry filled with your choice of vegetables, beef or chicken, this delicious and very popular street food is found all over La Paz and is available until the early hours of the afternoon. They can be bought both on the street and in specialised restaurants, however due to the liquidity of the sauce, I believe they are enjoyed much more if seated and accompanied with a jugo de tumbo (a fruit that tastes similar to passionfruit).

The weekend was spent lounging around with the other interns, Camilla (UK) and Seneca (USA), with Sunday bringing the addition of our final intern for the months of May and June. Maryam, another British traveller, was welcomed into the Bolivian Express penthouse early on Sunday morning. The strangest and most entertaining thing we have discovered since sharing a number of days together is that, despite the fact we are all English-speaking individuals, our assortment of accents make discussions much more complicated than those when we are trying to communicate in Spanish. A discussion about ‘thongs’ must be clarified with the addition of ‘flip flops’, cooking instructions become complicated when Nina and I are told to roast the ‘aubergines and courgette’ instead of the eggplant and the zucchini (and by this stage Nina and I are feeling a lot less classy. These episodes never cease to create a table full of girls bursting with laughter, with the speaker adding further explanation before the most innocent of stories can turn awkward for at least one of us seated.

This week Nina and I have felt more like journalists (having been given our very own press passes and everything!) as we have been navigating through La Paz in order to meet various interviewees for out article on Afro-Bolivians. I won’t go into detail about the nature of our article, as I don’t want to spoil the surprise for when it is finally published as part of the Bolivian Express! However it has led us on an interesting journey in which we ended up meeting an Afro Bolivian, Jorge Medina, who is fairly high up in the ranks, but is at the same time a very laid back guy.

On the way to one of our many meetings we passed a room that look suspiciously full of people and had guards stationed by the door, so we moved closer for a better look. Nina and I were in hysterics when we discovered all of the commotion was to celebrate the National Festival of the Potato. Ironically it seemed like a serious affair, with a number of men in suits and large-scale posters lining the walls!

“Alascitas” is a festival held in Bolivia every year in late January/early February. It is a ceremony in which Bolivians buy miniature objects from market stalls to give to Ekeko, the household god of abundance (a chubby guy with rosy cheeks). In return for their offerings, Ekeko watches over the house and ensures the family everlasting happiness. By the end of the year, the Bolivians are supposed to get (in it’s proper size) their object of desire. Before our consumerist society, the offerings used to be daily necessities such as farm animals or vegetables. Nowadays however, one can purchase miniature sized airplane tickets, cars, ipods, drivers’ licenses and even marriage (and divorce) certificates! Unfortunately I wasn’t in La Paz for this festival but I found it so interesting when Camilla told me about her experience of Alascitas that I thought it worth a mention!

After Tom’s gut wrenching (both literally and metaphorically) experience last year in Argentina and now my week of serious diarrhoea and vomiting, I believe it can be said that South America is not fond of the Wolffs. After two visits to the doctor I have discovered I have a bacterial infection. However having been given a course of antibiotics I am hopefully on the mend!

 Adios.

A few other interesting things to note about La Paz:

Each of La Paz’ tiny buses (micros) is equipped with a screamer. The screamer is the individual stationed by the window (or door) screaming out the various destinations of the micro in the hope of gaining a few more travellers.

At a number of the main pedestrian or ‘zebra’ crossings, there are humans dressed as zebras entertaining and dancing for the tourists, whilst at the same time attempting to direct the traffic (but really just getting in the way).

Don’t be fooled by taxis…what may from the outside look like a taxi can also serve the purpose of a minibus. Nina and I had an experience when, thinking we were taking our own taxi back to the apartment, we made another four stops along the way… eventually piling in another four (and not overly slim) people. 






P.s. This is a seriously cool bar hidden in our street - it is made entirely from recycled metal! 

La Paz

There is no other city like La Paz. 

Situated a stunning 3660m above sea level and built in between mountainous peaks it cannot be described as anything less than incredible...and sitting in the penthouse of the Edificio 20 de Octubre with a panoramic view of a sea of orange lights I have to pinch myself. 

Nina and I arrived in La Paz to a beautiful, sunny, Saturday afternoon. The sky was a piercing blue and clouds were scarce. As we wound our way down the side of the hill away from El Alto and the airport and into La Paz we couldn't really digest what stretched out in front of our eyes. The traffic is total mayhem, the streets are built on freakishly steep slopes and the houses are dotted all over the uneven terrain. It is fantastic!

A Japanese man insisted on taking a photo of us due to the fact that we looked so ridiculous!

This great city is now our home for the next two months. For those who aren’t already aware, Nina and I are participating in a journalism program at the Bolivian Express, a monthly magazine that is distributed all over La Paz (in restaurants, cafes, on airplanes etc). For the next two months we are working alongside three other interns from around the world, as well as a permanent team of editors and journalists to produce the monthly issue.

Before we began our time with the Bolivian Express however, Nina and I checked into the Onkel hostel in Sopocachi, La Paz. It gave us the perfect opportunity for a few days of exploring the city and ultimately to get a real feel for the place.

As Saturday evening quickly approached, too exhausted to think, we consulted with our trusty Lonely Planet for a nice place to eat out, eventually deciding on the Star of India. As it’s name suggests, this restaurant serves traditional Indian curries and is hidden at the top of one of the many steep streets in La Paz. It is at the Star of India that tourists are able to eat (or attempt to eat) what the restaurant claims to be ‘the spiciest vindaloo in South America’. If the bowl is polished off completely, the individual is then rewarded with a promotional t-shirt as their very own claim to fame. While this may sound like a weak attempt to justify our non-attempt…it was our first night in Bolivia, and my travel companion is not a fan of spicy food. So, afraid to brave it alone, I have put it off for the time being.

On both Sunday and Monday much of the city was closed due to the annual Labour Day holiday. As a result we spent much of the day wondering through the endless food markets, admiring the Bolivian women, ‘cholitas’, in their traditional and highly decorative ‘polleras’ (layered skirts made from beautiful local fabrics), and taking in the incredible view of the mountains that can be admired from many spots around the city.

Apart from it’s unique geographical position and obvious attachment to traditional culture, La Paz is also known for it’s highly unusual, and at the same time very dangerous San Pedro prison. It is now the focus of much attention due to the recently released Marching Powder, a book that follows the life of a British drug dealer who spent years behind the bars of the prison. His biography exposes the corrupt nature of the jail and the cocaine dealing that goes on between numerous individuals, and not just the inmates! Nina and I are yet to tour through the prison due to the fact that it is now illegal, and also because we watched as two Australian boys were robbed of their chance when the ‘tour guide’ ran off with their money. It was a little bit unsettling when we discovered the prison was in fact located on the corner opposite our hostel!

Later that evening we navigated our way through the streets to the Bolivian Express building where we joined the rest of the team for a farewell dinner for one of the interns. It was an enjoyable night…many stories were shared, wine was drunk and there was an impressive buffet of home cooked food to go around.

For the past few days we have been settling in to our new apartment, which in case I haven’t already mentioned is in fact a penthouse. We are therefore treated each day and night to a panoramic view of the city, and I almost feel as if I could give the daily weather report. Yesterday was fantastic…we had a magnificent view of the rain (which later developed into hail) as it swept over the mountains and descended onto the city of La Paz.

Before the storm...

During the storm

Today we visited Zona Sur, the most upmarket suburb of La Paz that lies in the lower altitude region (ironically, unlike in many European nations the lower class citizens live in the higher altitude regions with the best views, and the wealthier congregate at the bottom of the valley). We were eager for some shopping and an adventure beyond the boundaries of Sopocachi.

There is a notable difference between Zona Sur and the rest of the city, and it is clearly evident in the rows of relatively high-end fashion boutiques and gourmet delicatessens which cannot be found in the centre of La Paz. Although it is situated towards the bottom of the valley, the inhabitants of Zona Sur are likewise treated to stunning views of the mountains.

I’d describe our day as a bit of a splurge…we each treated ourselves to a few incredibly good value, niche items of clothing as well as a treat from the gourmet bakery. However having been at the doctor only several hours earlier trying to treat poor Nina’s illness we felt it was well deserved!

The bakery

Caledoscopio...the shop where many a purchases were made!

Now it is time to continue exploring La Paz and enjoy living as an intern at the Bolivian Express.