Ciao to the White City

Our four week stint in Sucre - 'La Ciudad Blanca' - is almost at a close and, to my surprise, we're itching to hit the road again. It's been great having somewhere to call home for a month and we've been so lucky with our hostel, La Dolce Vita. We had a huge room to ourselves - with the luxury of an ensuite and space to study - enjoyed many an afternoon sunning ourselves on the patio and even had a night of dancing (with benefit of quite a few beers) with the French/Swiss-German owners. In a way they've been like a surrogate family, helping us with frustrating Bolivian postal delays and conversing with us and other guests over many a bottle of wine. This family even comes complete with a seven year-old daughter, eager to play barbies and tell stories (in Spanish of course) who, unable to pronounce 'Claire', has affectionately renamed me 'Cleo'. She's a bag of laughs a minute and great for Spanish speaking practice. I'd recommend this hostel to anyone visiting Sucre, I'm sure we'll miss it.

However, like an impatient child, the travel bug is jumping up and down, busting to get moving again and, like all good travellers, we're dutifully obeying. Tomorrow we set off to Ecuador where we've signed up for two weeks volunteering with the Santa Martha animal sanctuary, an hour south of the Capital, Quito. Already this sanctuary is far more organised than Inti Wara Yassi, the Bolivian equivalent that we initially approached, and has already secured our place and accommodation. We're really looking forward to it.

But how can I sign off without one last ode to my favourite country thus far? I can only hope that fellow travellers, friends and family visit this interesting place. It's true that you will sometimes feel like you're on another planet in Bolivia, but at the same time, it oozes personality and vitality. One thing I've learnt a thing or two about is the value of hard work, and how hard some people have to work just to feed their kids a couple of times a week, something which I'm sure is inconceivable to many. There's also something beautiful about the ubiquitous juxtaposition of old and new, traditional and modern - traditionally clad dancers resting on a shiny hilux, or the unusual accessories that are so often coupled with time-old rural clothing: a 'North River Surgery Centre' jumper or an 'I love London' baseball cap. It's all part of Bolivia's character and charm and I'm sure this wont be my last visit.

Getting to know Bolivia

Today marked the end of our third week of Spanish lessons in Sucre. It's been intense scribbling down hundreds of new words each week, learning different language tenses while trying to read, write and speak it all correctly, every instruction and conversation in Spanish. I wont say there haven't been times when I've questioned the sanity behind my decision to voluntarily return to study.

But things are finally coming together on the language front, conversations are more complex and topics more interesting. The beauty of learning a new language in a classroom setting is that you can diverge from any lesson plan to chat about topics of interest. There's no risk of being told off because it's great speaking practice (as long as you speak every word in Spanish, which is sometimes quite difficult, and I've been known to have received a telling off for 'practicing' my English).

This week I've particularly enjoyed classes because the conversation has been more lively and interactive. We've spoken a lot about Bolivia - its regions, its politics, its President - things I think anyone living in a foreign country should know. Our conversations have been both interesting and eye-opening and make for a great game of 'Did you know?'.

Did you know?: Bolivia has nine 'departamentos' (like States) and an estimated 70% of the population is indigenous. Bolivia's landscape is diverse, contrary to popular belief that is a country of high altitudes. It's landscape ranges from high plateaus (the 'altiplano'), valleys ('valles') and tropical lowlands ('Oriente'). Guide books and internet sites will tell you that Bolivia has two capital cities: La Paz (the legislative and administrative capital and home to the Presidential residence), and Sucre (the judicial capital). However, according to my tutor, Sucre is Bolivia's historical and thus, official, capital city. The Country's President, Evo Morales, is of indigenous background and was born of a poverty-striken family in Oruro. Along the road to politics he farmed, among other things, coca leaves (great for sore stomachs, headaches, altitude sickness and also the main ingredient in cocaine), and he never attended University. Now that's a fairly different scenario to that of the multi-degree-holding pollies back home, hey?

So it's true, you learn something new every day, even in Spanish!

Back to School

Some might call it madness, I know I have each morning this week while climbing out of bed at 7am to get ready for Spanish class. That's right, I've made the voluntary decision to go back to school, homework and all.

Having done a fair bit of travel in foreign countries one thing I find really frustrating is not being able to speak the local language. What is equally, if not more frustrating, is only knowing how to say: 'Do you speak English?' I feel presumptuous and rude. But in most cases, it can't be helped. You can't be expected to speak the language of every country you visit (especially in Europe), sometimes you just have to do your best. The good news for me is that, taking time out in Sucre has also posed as a good opportunity for Spanish lessons to alleviate my frustration. Considering I'm spending six months on a Spanish-speaking continent, I think it's a good idea.

Sucre is one of Bolivia's two capital cities and is the country's judicial centre (don't ask me why there are two). La Paz is Bolivia's administrative hub and home to its President. As it happens, Sucre is also our favourite Bolivian city. It's somewhat more laid back than the country's other big cities and is really beautiful (think big white colonial buildings and leafy green plazas). It is also swimming with Spanish schools and, as a result, 'gringos', or foreigners.

So this week, Bec and I jumped on the Spanish school bandwagon and we'll be on it for the next month, having signed up with the Academia Latinoamericana de Espanol and booked into the popular La Dolce Vita Hostel longterm. And the week one report? So far so good, the first coo being that, for whatever reason, I've been allocated my own tutor (having paid for group classes), so the intensive course I signed up for is just that. It's been fairly reminiscent of my highschool French days - learning lists of verbs and vocab - with a few extra 'practical activities' thrown in. For example, we took a trip to the local market to buy typical Bolivian fruit and also enjoyed a saltena at 'El Patio', the best saltena spot in town, the whole time speaking in Spanish of course.

I can't say I'm used to the homework sheets yet, but I am very much enjoying the stimulation after a few months of wandering - I think my brain is too. So bring on week two!

Our Spanish School - who wouldn't want to come here each day?

A side note on Bolivia

As it would happen, the day I wrote my 'I love Bolivia' post (below), I got a confronting insight into a very ugly side of the country: the dangerous and unregulated child labour. We went to see a documentary called 'The Devil's Miner'. I've mentioned it before in my Potosi post. It follows 14 year-old Basilio Vargas who, raised without a father, is forced to support his mother, brother and young sister by working in the once silver-rich Cerro Rico mines of Potosi. It gives a raw depiction of Basilio's reality, his fears, hopes and dreams. It also captures the stark contrast and contradiction of his, and other miners', devout Catholicism outside of the mine, and the self-torment that results from their fear-fuelled devotion to the miners' 'God' inside the mine, the 'Tio' or Devil.

The idea of a 14 year-old boy bearing the burden of supporting his family in this way is particularly awful. However, Basilio's sad story is, I'm sure, shared to different extents by thousands of other Bolivian children. These children are ubiquitous, perhaps not in mines, but on streets, in plazas and outside restaurants. They beg or sell lollies and handcrafts, with a not-far-off adult awaiting profits. This is a reality that shouldn't be.

'The Devil's Miner' has stayed with me and I expect will continue to do so. I'd definitely recommend you see it.

A step back in time: return to Bolivia

Ok, so things don't always go to plan, especially when you're travelling. We were really keen to volunteer at the Inti Wara Yassi animal sanctuary, so much so that we travelled over 40 hours by bus from Buenos Aires to get to the tiny town of Villa Tunari (somewhere between Cochabamba and Santa Cruz de la Sierra), only to be told that the Park was full. This was very frustrating as we'd emailed what we thought was the Park - actually just an office in London - to tell them the date we were coming. 'Just turn up and feel free to volunteer whenever you wish', they said. Unfortunately for us, a group of 14 GAP organisation volunteers just 'turned up' a couple of hours before us and, as fate would have it, it just wasn't meant to be. Well that's not entirely true. There was the option of joining the construction team for 15 days, but we were told there would be very little interaction with the animals, which was the whole reason for our coming. Nevermind, that's the way the organisation works and we may make another attempt in another month or so.

So after 14 hours of bus travel that required a sports bra - gotta love those unpaved Bolivian roads - we're back in our favourite Bolivian city: Sucre. The plan was always to have a month of Spanish lessons and we chose Bolivia after experiencing the uniqueness of the Argentine accent (and the dent Argentina made to the hip pocket!) Luck finally went our way when our contact at the Academia LatinoAmericana de Espanol agreed to bring forward our starting dates for Spanish lessons at short notice. So here we are, back in the White City!


A couple of weeks ago we bumped into a Danish traveller we'd met in La Paz at a bus terminal in Buenos Aires. His response to our plans was: 'What? You're going back to Bolivia voluntarily?' I was surprised at this because I love the country. It has so much to offer with it's unique culture and diverse landscapes, it's such an interesting place.

Coincidentally, my Mum recently referred me to an article in the Australian newspaper online (Mum's are great aren't they?) It was in the travel section and the topic was Bolivia. Entitled 'In slow motion', it acknowledged Bolivia as the black sheep of South America in terms economic progress. The author, however, also labeled the country 'the sweetest, most unspoiled and engaging country in South America, the continent's hidden jewel'. I kind of like this perspective.

Bolivia is a fascinating world of its own. The women are particularly striking. They wear their long braided black hair in pigtails, often under bowler hats, teamed with knee-length Spanish-style skirts, wrapping themselves in brightly coloured shawls that carry anything from household goods to children. In Bolivia, if you need anything - a camera or even a new toilet seat - you don't go to the local department store, you hit up the black market. Need to exchange money? Just have a chat with the old man standing on the corner with the wad of cash in his hand and the minute 'money exchange' sign. And don't expect a print out of your bus ticket, or a receipt of any kind that isn't handwritten.


For some, I can see why Bolivia may appear backward or stuck in the past, and might not be the first stop on the South American itinerary, but I think those people are missing out. It's true, the poverty is at times overwhelming and confronting, but that's not what defines the country. In my opinion, Bolivia's true colours are to be seen in a scenic bus trip between cities, a wander through the local fruit market, or an afternoon of people watching in a plaza.

So did I come back to Bolivia voluntarily? You bet I did and it's great to be back.

Rawhide!

We began to notice a change in atmosphere as we headed south towards the Bolivian/Argentine border: horseback-riding cowboys, dusty roads and red cacti-covered hills - everything got a tad country and western, almost like a scene from a John Wayne movie. And what better incentive than that to get my cowgirl on, as they say: 'When in Rome...'.

Once we finally arrived in Tupiza after our bus ordeal, we booked a three hour horse ride around the outskirts for the following morning. Apparently Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid are buried somewhere in these parts - a little known country and western fact brought to you by moi. I took what I thought was the safe option and told the tourist office that I'd had no horse riding experience, believing that the limited skills I acquired on family holidays when I was young wouldn't suffice and thinking that, on hearing this, they'd give me the slow grandpa horse.

On a side note, here are some more facts on Bolivia. The topic? Safety standards. There are none! This seems to be the case in South America generally. After a few touch and go moments on the unfenced Inca Trail, the 'Death Road' experience was the ultimate confirmation. The result is that I now can't really be surprised when safety standards are lapse on adventurous occasions, so I wont say I was surprised when we got a guide who couldn't speak a word of English, were provided with no head protection and when I, the inexperienced one, was given a horse that I named 'Sparky' because he'd take it upon himself to bolt ahead at any moment, unprovoked. What's more, at the point of the ride where we were led off the trail to climb vertical points on the red hills, I just held my breath.

I have to hand it to Bolivia though as there's certainly no shortage of gimmicks for tourists to delight in. On the 'Death Road' bike tour we got a 'Going Down's Never Been Better' t-shirt (very classy), and a bandanna. On the horse ride we were equipped with chaps and cowboy hats for our camera clicking pleasure. Now that's something!

In saying all that, the horse riding was a lot of fun. The three of us set off on a gorgeous morning, the colours of the red hills and green cacti against the blue sky were stunning, and by the end I'd remembered how to stay on a horse while trotting (I didn't really have a choice in this, given Sparky's attitude). The only down side to it all was that I waddled around like I'd had an accident in my pants for the next three days. Apparently horse riding is rigorous on the thighs - who knew?!


Apart from the horse riding we mostly chilled out in Tupiza - a wander around the black markets, a couple of 'Who Eats Wins' sessions (black potatoes this time, as well as an unidentified meat and 'Mocochinchi', a dehydrated peach cider that looked like it contained a shriveled foetus at the bottom - sorry to be graphic). FYI, the tally so far sits at Claire: 6; Food poinsoning: 1. Game on.

We also watched 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' which wasn't the most uplifting film I've seen all year. I would however recommend 'Sunshine Cleaning' for something quirky.

What you didn't know about Bolivian buses

Fact: You don't need to book a seat to travel long distances by bus in Bolivia. In fact, many locals bring the whole family and sit in the aisle partaking in various activities which include card playing, chicken eating or sleeping while standing up and/or lying down.

Fact: Animals of all types are allowed to travel long distance on Bolivian buses, with or without a cage (and possibly with or without owner). There are usually no toilet stops on Bolivian buses.

Fact (according to my guide book): 95% of Bolivian roads are unpaved. Consequently, the majority of a long distance bus trip will more than likely occur off-road. Off-road driving can be hazardous when it's been raining. We experienced this first hand on our night bus trip from Uyuni to Tupiza. The trip supposedly takes six hours, however, at 1.30am we were unlucky enough to get bogged in an unpaved section of road resulting in our six hour trip lasting 14 hours. The up side was witnessing the local remedy for bogged buses: jacking the wheels and placing shrubs under them. Not surprisingly this method had its flaws and we waited until 6.30am for a tow truck.

Potosi and Salar de Uyuni

Our plan was to move south from Sucre and that's just what we did - Potosi and the famous Bolivian Salt Flats were next on our list. With the thought of a three day, two night jeep tour around the Salt Flats ahead, Potosi was a nice place to chill out.



Claimed to be the highest city in the world - it sits at 4090m above sea level - Potosi is well known for its silver mining history and also, I have since learned, the exploitative nature of the industry. Apparently there are still 7,000 workers who mine the 120 operative mines in which pulleys were only introduced a few years ago (the bonus being miners now no longer haul rock loads on their backs). The mines were the subject of a 2005 documentary film called 'The Devil's Miner' which follows a 14 year old boy and his 12 year old brother who work there. I'm yet to see it. Many tourists take part in mine tours in Potosi. I guess one perspective is that such a tour would open your eyes to the type of labour and conditions in the mine, but I wasn't keen to partake. Not only had I heard that, surprise surprise, it's a real struggle to breath down there, as well as claustrophobic, but I didn't particularly want to make a spectacle of the men and children who work there every day. In saying that, I met people who got a lot out of the tour, so each to their own.

After one night in Potosi we continued south to Uyuni where we booked for the jeep tour of the Salt Flats, leaving the following day. The tour was great. We saw the flats on the fist day - so vast and...flat. Of course we had to take the corny tourist pics (including this one of us girls with our NZ friend Cliff). The next day we headed into the National Park and saw plenty of flamingos, lagoons, Illamas and mountains. On the third and final day, after waking at 4.30am, we saw a wonderful sunrise on the way to some geysers - Mel and Cliff even had a dip in some hot springs. We then said goodbye to Cliff at the Chilean border and turned around for the long trip back to Uyuni where we'd booked a night bus to Tupiza. Little did we know the night would be eventful...

Happy New Year from Sucre!

To be honest, I can’t say I was sad to leave La Paz in the end. On top of the drink spiking incident we’d also found out that there were no longer tours of the San Pedro prison since an uprising a few months ago. This had been something I’d really wanted to do so the news was a bit of a downer.

We’d planned to welcome 2010 in Oruro, with the intention of heading south to the Salt Flats, however, things changed when we arrived there. Having travelled four hours on an over-crowded bus that smelled of BO and chicken - with a few un-caged pet cats thrown in for good measure - we were deterred by the fact the place was flooded, and the vibe seemed very uninspiring and a little depressing. This resulted in our booking a night bus to Sucre, a city of about 200,000 and the judicial capital of Bolivia (La Paz is the executive and legislative capital). This meant we could also enjoy some great food and wine at ‘Restaurant Nayjama’, of which the master chef, Don Roberto, has been plugged by the Lonely Planet as being particularly hospitable. That he was. He recommended a lovely Bolivian red and chatted to us about his many travel experiences. He even insisted we take 20 of the 40 Boliviano tip for the cab ride home (we didn’t).


We arrived in Sucre on December 31 with enough time for a siesta in our lovely European-inspired hostel. After doing the typical backpacker thing and drinking with other travellers in the hostel, we headed to a local bar where there was a ‘beach party’ underway (i.e. the floor was covered in imported sand – luckily I wore thongs!) The New Year was a bit of an anti-climax - no countdown or anything – but the all-you-could drink beer meant I was unfazed. We even spotted some fireworks in the main Plaza 25 de Mayo, and Bec and I enjoyed a ‘who eats wins’ session with some suspicious meat from a local vendor in the square, all the time hoping we weren’t eating dog.

Happy New Year!

A spike in the journey: my Bolivian hospital stay

I try to embrace the good and the bad when traveling, you come to expect it. This philosophy was certainly put to the test in La Paz. I was unlucky enough to have my drink spiked on Boxing Day resulting in my being whisked off to hospital and placed on a drip and pumped with diuretics for the night and the whole of the following day. It was pretty frightening, particularly as none of the staff spoke English - thank goodness my doctor was the only one who did! The up side was that my wonderful friends stayed by my side and once we knew I’d be ok we were all able to laugh at the retro muumuu they’d put me in. It was an experience to say the least, perhaps not the most fashionable!

Christmas in La Paz

We wanted to be in a big city for Christmas so we could be with other orphan travelers, so we headed to La Paz. La Paz is a beautiful city to look at. Surrounded by mountains it cascades down like a filter, the CBD and a few high rises are the epicentre. This means a lot of uphill walking.

Arriving in La Paz on December 23, we checked into an Irish-run hostel and then went to check out the famous Witch Doctors’ market, where you could find all the potions and charms you desired. There most common item were llama foetuses, but there were also, according to my guide book: frogs for good fortune, turtles for long life, owls for knowledge, snakes for progression/moving in the right direction, and pumas to help you achieve victory over an enemy. Good luck getting some of those through customs! Unfortunately the rest of the afternoon was spent at the tourist police station, as Mel’s camera was pick-pocketed.


On the 24th we got dressed up for the ‘Naughty Santa and Sexy Miss Claus’ Christmas Eve party and took advantage of Happy Hour. The time difference was a bonus as I was able to duck out mid-dancing to skype the family back home who were just sitting down to Christmas lunch.


On Christmas Day the hostel put on a ‘dinner’ at 4pm. We sat with some Irish guys we’d met the night before and sipped on hot port, a traditional Irish Christmas drink. The combination of waiting for hours to be served, Christmas spam and cold apple pie made me a tad homesick, especially for aunty Jules’ Christmas pud! In the end there was such a ridiculous amount of leftovers that a few of us collected it up in plastic bags and took it out to the many homeless that sat in the cold on the streets outside. At one stage I had about eight children grabbing at me, desperate for food, which was both confronting and heartbreaking. At least we filled some bellies on Christmas Day.

At the Copa, Copacabana

Our first taste of Bolivia was a breezy run through immigration consisting of physically walking 500m across the border and countless kangaroo jokes from officials. Entry to Copacabana set us back a whole one boliviano (about $0.15 AU). I enjoyed chilling out in Copa after going on a strenuous walk up the Calvario, where the stations of the Cross overlook the beach (rocks). Unfortunately Mel and I got a touch of food poisoning from a dodgy ham sandwich but luckily it didn’t set in before we enjoyed some fajitas and trout curry – yum!