Day 58-60 La Paz meaning; the peace, the alone
For third time we arrived back in the city in the sky. This time we left the airport for long enough to explore. The unofficial capital of Bolivia La Paz is sprawled across valleys. At its highest it is 4200m above sea level.
We spent much of our time wandering the Witches' Market -comprised of many stalls offering all sorts of local flora and fauna as the cure to this, the answer to that and prosperity for it. By far the wildest sold good was llama fetuses (feti? lol) No joke...llama fetuses hung from every stall along the cobbled street. It was frightening! Apparently if burnt as an offering it will ensure the success of even the greatest of pursuits. The stalls were laden with carved idols of every shape and size. The whole thing gave me the creeps! We quickly made our way to the touristy souvenir end of the market. Great shopping!
The other highlights of La Paz sight-seeing are the attractions that are the residue of the cocaine industry. Tiff and I steered clear of these dodgy tourist hang outs. San Pedro prison teeming with those unlucky enough to have been caught on the wrong side of the fight against drugs is the curiosity of every touring gringo. Tours run illegally through the prison at a price that pleases the corrupt guards. It is notoriously dangerous and consequently a tour well sort after. Tiff and I were lucky (or unlucky) enough to come face to face with a San Pedro celebrity Crackhead Mike. A well known tour guide and washed up crack dealer from the states who offers a way into San Pedro. We had stumbled upon the prison and were heading in the opposite direction when we were approached by an unkempt, unshaven, shoeless character who with a toothy grin "Hey ladies! Looking to get inside?" Eeek! We were shocked! Ha let me see an illegal tour through a prison with an "ex"-drugdealer looking to make a buck in a country notoriously ruthless against gringos and drugs. Tough decision? HELL NO! "Well you can find me here ladies and I be happy to get YOU in." Wink wink! Needless to say we made a brisk exit.
Route 36 is a nightclub well-frequented by gringos. A contradiction in a country tough on drug crime its dirty drawcard- cocaine is part of the regular menu between the entrees and mains. Law enforcement turns a blind-eye for a good price. Beer and a line please?
Ninas in traditional costume
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
No Gracias
Cuzco
After an overnight stay in the heighty city of La Paz we were on our way to Cuzco, Peru. The flight was spectacular. We soared over snowcapped mountain ranges that reached up breaking through the clouded ceiling. I held my breath as the plane changed course certain that the wing would skim a mountain peak. Cold icy caps gave way to plunging green valleys. A still cool lake pooled in one of the valleys.
On arrival at the hostel in Cuzco we were greeted with a warm cup of coca tea- ´for the altitude´. Our time in Cochabamba had given us the opportunity to acclimatise but the warmth of the cup in our chilly hands was reason enough to accept the tea gratefully.
Reunion with our friends from uni lead to much storytelling and excited planning. We made our way to Cuzco´s favourite gringo cafe ´Jack´s´. Any tourist who has made their way through the cobbled streets of Cuzco will point you in the direction of ´Jack´s´ for the best cup of coffee in South America. And it was!
Cuzco is a city at conflict with itself. While at first glance its streets appear like the cobbled streets of old world Europe, its city square hemmed by terraces and grand cathedral, down the tiny side streets cracks can be seen in the spanish facade. Evidence of this once great Incan empire bleeds through. Cuzco is littered with tourists. Every corner you turn you narrowly miss bumping into a fellow backpack burdened tourist. They pollute the city streets.
The entrepreneral locals are quick to take advantage of the impressionalable gringos. A vendor waits on every corner with an offer better than the rest. ´Lady, lady! Raybans for just $1 sole! Lady! Look here Lady!´ A sucker for such an incredible, almost unbelievable bargain you get caught in this cleverly spun web. ´Ah lady the case is $1 sole, the Raybans good deal of $70 sole. You want buy lady?´ Suddenly you are surrounded by vendors selling silver, scarfs, paintings, wood carvings, beanies, socks, snacks! You are drowning in a sea of best deals and hard sell vendors- they ain´t guna let this sucker get away. Then suddenly like a magic trick ´Abra Kadabra!´ they are all gone. The arrival of a frowning policeman can be thanked for you escape.
And this is how Cuzco lives and breaths vendors lurking here and there and everywhere, tourists shops and restaurants teeming with gringos, travel agents do a roaring trade and locals pretend to be locals dressing up in traditional dress of days gone by and dragging photogenic llamas along the cobbled streets stopping tourists ´photo with llama lady?´
All that aside Cuzco is an exciting place to visit full of great places to eat, shop and where fake cultural experiences can be had. Armed with the term ´no gracias´you can navigate your way out of most vendor mobs with ease. In fact bargaining with the street vendors can be an experience in itself and a bit of fun. The cobbled alleyways are enchanting and the sight of familiar faces are welcomed after a long time in tourist-free Cochabamba. We enjoyed exploring Cuzco in the days before and after Inca Trail.
During our time here we decided to brave it and taste the Peruvian delicacy of Cuy - Guinea pig. It was truly awful! Very bony with little meat (Surprise surprise!) and what there was of it was smokey distinctly pet-like. Yuck! They brought out whoe charred and grinning bearing its tiny guinea teeth. I even thought I may have heard it squeak!
We also made it to our first South American soccer game. It was very exciting! There were police everywhere armed with riot shields and guns AND trust me the enthusiastic crowd warranted it! The supporters, a group of eager fans who have an unhealthy portion of love for their team get into the game for free. They provide their beloved team with exhaustively consistent cheering and chanting and are reknowned for being particularly dangerous. They beat drums and blow trumpets and chant and jump and swing their ´red and white´shirts over their heads in a animated warrior-like display. This goes on for the whole game. Such passion is fascinating to see. Bottles are not allowed in the stadium in case emotive supporters become particularly enthused and get a little violent. However, flares are common place. Little makes sense in South America.
Halloween is a big event in Cuzco, Peru. This october 31st the tricker treaters were out in force. Every child under the age of 12 was packed into the square walking door to door with mini cauldrons overflowing with sugary treats in hand. The costumes were amazing! No frills spared for these minature princesses, harry potters, and spidermans. My favourite was 5 year old unhappy duck who pulled at his feathers and wailed instead of quacked.
Unfortunately, this halloween night was also when Tiff and I finally succumbed to food poisioning. With one swift blow it took both Tiff and I out they day before Inca trail. Brilliant!
During our time in Cuzco we submitted our final paperwork to the university! I have finally finished! I cant believe it. Strangely it doesnt quite feel real yet. The six years seemed to drag by at times but now it is over I can´t believe how fast it has gone by. I haven´t celebrated yet- there is plenty of time for that at home with the people I owe it too.
After an overnight stay in the heighty city of La Paz we were on our way to Cuzco, Peru. The flight was spectacular. We soared over snowcapped mountain ranges that reached up breaking through the clouded ceiling. I held my breath as the plane changed course certain that the wing would skim a mountain peak. Cold icy caps gave way to plunging green valleys. A still cool lake pooled in one of the valleys.
On arrival at the hostel in Cuzco we were greeted with a warm cup of coca tea- ´for the altitude´. Our time in Cochabamba had given us the opportunity to acclimatise but the warmth of the cup in our chilly hands was reason enough to accept the tea gratefully.
Reunion with our friends from uni lead to much storytelling and excited planning. We made our way to Cuzco´s favourite gringo cafe ´Jack´s´. Any tourist who has made their way through the cobbled streets of Cuzco will point you in the direction of ´Jack´s´ for the best cup of coffee in South America. And it was!
Cuzco is a city at conflict with itself. While at first glance its streets appear like the cobbled streets of old world Europe, its city square hemmed by terraces and grand cathedral, down the tiny side streets cracks can be seen in the spanish facade. Evidence of this once great Incan empire bleeds through. Cuzco is littered with tourists. Every corner you turn you narrowly miss bumping into a fellow backpack burdened tourist. They pollute the city streets.
The entrepreneral locals are quick to take advantage of the impressionalable gringos. A vendor waits on every corner with an offer better than the rest. ´Lady, lady! Raybans for just $1 sole! Lady! Look here Lady!´ A sucker for such an incredible, almost unbelievable bargain you get caught in this cleverly spun web. ´Ah lady the case is $1 sole, the Raybans good deal of $70 sole. You want buy lady?´ Suddenly you are surrounded by vendors selling silver, scarfs, paintings, wood carvings, beanies, socks, snacks! You are drowning in a sea of best deals and hard sell vendors- they ain´t guna let this sucker get away. Then suddenly like a magic trick ´Abra Kadabra!´ they are all gone. The arrival of a frowning policeman can be thanked for you escape.
And this is how Cuzco lives and breaths vendors lurking here and there and everywhere, tourists shops and restaurants teeming with gringos, travel agents do a roaring trade and locals pretend to be locals dressing up in traditional dress of days gone by and dragging photogenic llamas along the cobbled streets stopping tourists ´photo with llama lady?´
All that aside Cuzco is an exciting place to visit full of great places to eat, shop and where fake cultural experiences can be had. Armed with the term ´no gracias´you can navigate your way out of most vendor mobs with ease. In fact bargaining with the street vendors can be an experience in itself and a bit of fun. The cobbled alleyways are enchanting and the sight of familiar faces are welcomed after a long time in tourist-free Cochabamba. We enjoyed exploring Cuzco in the days before and after Inca Trail.
During our time here we decided to brave it and taste the Peruvian delicacy of Cuy - Guinea pig. It was truly awful! Very bony with little meat (Surprise surprise!) and what there was of it was smokey distinctly pet-like. Yuck! They brought out whoe charred and grinning bearing its tiny guinea teeth. I even thought I may have heard it squeak!
We also made it to our first South American soccer game. It was very exciting! There were police everywhere armed with riot shields and guns AND trust me the enthusiastic crowd warranted it! The supporters, a group of eager fans who have an unhealthy portion of love for their team get into the game for free. They provide their beloved team with exhaustively consistent cheering and chanting and are reknowned for being particularly dangerous. They beat drums and blow trumpets and chant and jump and swing their ´red and white´shirts over their heads in a animated warrior-like display. This goes on for the whole game. Such passion is fascinating to see. Bottles are not allowed in the stadium in case emotive supporters become particularly enthused and get a little violent. However, flares are common place. Little makes sense in South America.
Halloween is a big event in Cuzco, Peru. This october 31st the tricker treaters were out in force. Every child under the age of 12 was packed into the square walking door to door with mini cauldrons overflowing with sugary treats in hand. The costumes were amazing! No frills spared for these minature princesses, harry potters, and spidermans. My favourite was 5 year old unhappy duck who pulled at his feathers and wailed instead of quacked.
Unfortunately, this halloween night was also when Tiff and I finally succumbed to food poisioning. With one swift blow it took both Tiff and I out they day before Inca trail. Brilliant!
During our time in Cuzco we submitted our final paperwork to the university! I have finally finished! I cant believe it. Strangely it doesnt quite feel real yet. The six years seemed to drag by at times but now it is over I can´t believe how fast it has gone by. I haven´t celebrated yet- there is plenty of time for that at home with the people I owe it too.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Sunny Santa Cruz
Day 42-47 - Sunny Santa Cruz
Situated in the lowlands Santa Cruz is the cosmopolitian, tropical oasis of the impoverished country of Bolivia. Trade out dusty cold cities, poverty and beanies for a warm sun, cool breeze, jewelry stores on every corner and a pair of thongs. Although landlocked this city has the feel of a glitzy beach metropolis with a third world touch. Beauty pageants are a huge part of the culture here. Everyone in Santa Cruz seems to be competing in their own beauty comp...anything that can be fake is...I have never seen so many plastered noses in one place! The plunging necklines and soaring hemlines are a sharp contrast to the modest attire of the people in the altiplano (high regions such as Cochabamba).
Santa Cruz is a city struggling to prove itself. Painfully striving to be more like Brazil than to betray its origins in Bolivia. The story of Mr Bolivia perfectly portrays Santa Cruzś insecurities. A young man from Nebraska his only claim to Bolivia- his untimely delivery in Santa Cruz 20 years earlier decided to later travel to his birthplace to discover his "homelands" culture and customs. The ever alert beauty pagents spotters recruited this young Nebraskan luring him into the competition as just a bit of fun. Representing Bolivia this white, blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy spoke not a word of spanish. When he proceeded to win the competition the country was outraged. They had been betrayed by Santa Cruz. Selfishly seeking its ideal Santa Cruz had crowned the all-American boy Mr Bolivia. A recent Miss Bolvia further reinforced this ideal when at world competition she relayed to television cameras and spectators " In Bolivia, everyone is tall, blonde, speaks english and watches friends." An unlikely story. Needless to say this comment was not met with pride on behalf of the people of Bolivia. Hence, a little rivalry stands between the indigenous pride of the incan descendants in the altiplano and the people of Santa Cruz ashamed and doing their best to dissociate themselves from their origins.
Santa Cruz is full of high end clothing and home design stores. Its indulgences are a startling contrast to the poverty elsewhere. There is the question of ´dirty money´. Much of the cocaine revenue is said to exchange hands in Santa Cruz.
Despite racial contentions, Santa Cruz has met us blonde-haired whities with open arms. In Santa Cruz in pursuit of a Brazilian visa the locals couldn´t have been more helpful (Yes we had to travel to the other side of the country just to get the ticket to enter another one). Straight off the plane we journeyed all over town for the visa. Looking like turtles with our huge backpacks strapped on we stumbled here and there. Finally with papers handed in for processing we weary travellers found our hotel.
The next day we ventured into the city where we met an Israeli guy who had just arrived in South America and was eager for some travel buddies. We were glad to have his company and made plans to venture to a wildlife park. At the park we encountered many tropical birds- macaws and toucans were the most impressive finds. There was also a sloth lounging in the bird enclosure. We ventured into the tortoise shelter where you could get up close and personal their collection of greater than 100 tortoises. We patted them and had to exercise all restraint not to sit on them...they were perfect stool height.
After farewelling Gilad we arrived at our hotel to find we were sharing our accomodation with a famous soccer team. Unbeknownst to us they would be playing across the road at the stadium that night. Sitting watching reruns of Friends (with spanish subtitles of course) and eating pizza we were distracted by a great roar and the sound of fireworks . This continued for 90minutes when we finally realised we had missed a soccer game. We were quite disappointed.
Although the weather reminded us of home, Santa Cruz had little else to offer. With the success of obtaining visas for Brazil (insert ´sigh of relief´ here) we made a beeline for the airport on to our next destination.
Situated in the lowlands Santa Cruz is the cosmopolitian, tropical oasis of the impoverished country of Bolivia. Trade out dusty cold cities, poverty and beanies for a warm sun, cool breeze, jewelry stores on every corner and a pair of thongs. Although landlocked this city has the feel of a glitzy beach metropolis with a third world touch. Beauty pageants are a huge part of the culture here. Everyone in Santa Cruz seems to be competing in their own beauty comp...anything that can be fake is...I have never seen so many plastered noses in one place! The plunging necklines and soaring hemlines are a sharp contrast to the modest attire of the people in the altiplano (high regions such as Cochabamba).
Santa Cruz is a city struggling to prove itself. Painfully striving to be more like Brazil than to betray its origins in Bolivia. The story of Mr Bolivia perfectly portrays Santa Cruzś insecurities. A young man from Nebraska his only claim to Bolivia- his untimely delivery in Santa Cruz 20 years earlier decided to later travel to his birthplace to discover his "homelands" culture and customs. The ever alert beauty pagents spotters recruited this young Nebraskan luring him into the competition as just a bit of fun. Representing Bolivia this white, blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy spoke not a word of spanish. When he proceeded to win the competition the country was outraged. They had been betrayed by Santa Cruz. Selfishly seeking its ideal Santa Cruz had crowned the all-American boy Mr Bolivia. A recent Miss Bolvia further reinforced this ideal when at world competition she relayed to television cameras and spectators " In Bolivia, everyone is tall, blonde, speaks english and watches friends." An unlikely story. Needless to say this comment was not met with pride on behalf of the people of Bolivia. Hence, a little rivalry stands between the indigenous pride of the incan descendants in the altiplano and the people of Santa Cruz ashamed and doing their best to dissociate themselves from their origins.
Santa Cruz is full of high end clothing and home design stores. Its indulgences are a startling contrast to the poverty elsewhere. There is the question of ´dirty money´. Much of the cocaine revenue is said to exchange hands in Santa Cruz.
Despite racial contentions, Santa Cruz has met us blonde-haired whities with open arms. In Santa Cruz in pursuit of a Brazilian visa the locals couldn´t have been more helpful (Yes we had to travel to the other side of the country just to get the ticket to enter another one). Straight off the plane we journeyed all over town for the visa. Looking like turtles with our huge backpacks strapped on we stumbled here and there. Finally with papers handed in for processing we weary travellers found our hotel.
The next day we ventured into the city where we met an Israeli guy who had just arrived in South America and was eager for some travel buddies. We were glad to have his company and made plans to venture to a wildlife park. At the park we encountered many tropical birds- macaws and toucans were the most impressive finds. There was also a sloth lounging in the bird enclosure. We ventured into the tortoise shelter where you could get up close and personal their collection of greater than 100 tortoises. We patted them and had to exercise all restraint not to sit on them...they were perfect stool height.
After farewelling Gilad we arrived at our hotel to find we were sharing our accomodation with a famous soccer team. Unbeknownst to us they would be playing across the road at the stadium that night. Sitting watching reruns of Friends (with spanish subtitles of course) and eating pizza we were distracted by a great roar and the sound of fireworks . This continued for 90minutes when we finally realised we had missed a soccer game. We were quite disappointed.
Although the weather reminded us of home, Santa Cruz had little else to offer. With the success of obtaining visas for Brazil (insert ´sigh of relief´ here) we made a beeline for the airport on to our next destination.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Cool As Ice & Nigga Flex
Day 30- Latin Pop Culture & the Ice man
Don't be alarmed about the title "Cool as Ice" is disturbing I know, but I refer to "Nigga Flex". This is actually the name of a popular Hip Hop artist in latin America no joke! You should check out his lastest hit...Entre Mis Brazos (In my Arms) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgJ7dMhYZ1A lol! This film clip also emphasises how full on the public displays of affection are here in Bolivia and probably south america. Its like an epidemic here! People all over the place are making out- obstructing pathways, stopping traffic, delaying life in general! The song is hilarious but catchy and gets stuck in your head! We were taking a Trufi ride into Quillacollo and this teenage guy got on and sat right at the back. He had his phone with him and despite being in a confined space proceded to share his playlist with us at great volume! Lucky he had good taste! So Entre Mis Brazos comes on and the three of us all kinda liked the sound of it. We made Letitia turn around and ask in spanish for the name of the song. We couldn't help but laugh when we heard he called himself Nigga Flex.
There is a latin american cultural phenomenon known as "machismo"- it is the term used to describe the propensity for men to have to prove their machoism. Consequently, there is lots of whistling from cars, fights and domestic violence. However, this coupled with music is often a hilarious combination because latin american men are also very sappy when it comes to describing their love. Some songs drip with sickingly sweet cliche lines about the stars in your eyes etc etc. It is so far from their machismo! Enter...Nigga Flex- Into my Arms a typical example of these cultural characteristics clashy with vulgarity.
Today we were meant to go on a 12hr round trip "road trip" with Dr Romer. Unfortunately, last minute he pulled out. It was very sad! I had wanted to see some of the countryside and 12hrs of Dr Romer meant 12hrs of laughing and fun! At least we have our trip to Chapare to look forward to it.
That night we made the fateful decision to watch "Cool as Ice" another dvd we had bought from the dodgy pirating shop. It was hilarious! He takes himself was too seriously. At one point the character who plays his heart's desire is asleep. Ice hold ice between his fingertips and wakes her by touching it to her lips. Did I mention she had only met him once and he broke into her room. That aint cool its creepy!
Quote of the movie was when she was trying to get rid of him and said "I will see you later" the cool man Ice returned "You are seeing me now!" Brilliant! Ice is truly a poet! haha!
Despite the terrible acting and awful script we eventually became quite interested and were eager to see the story pan out (I might also mention we had no other alternatives lol). Just as it was reaching the climax dodgy pirate strikes again and the movie ends at just one hour. With over half an hour to go and with a dodgy ending left to see we were devastated! Cool as Ice is so bad that only a dodgy pirating place in Bolivia is likely to stock this! I will never see how the Ice man melts her heart! :(
Don't be alarmed about the title "Cool as Ice" is disturbing I know, but I refer to "Nigga Flex". This is actually the name of a popular Hip Hop artist in latin America no joke! You should check out his lastest hit...Entre Mis Brazos (In my Arms) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgJ7dMhYZ1A lol! This film clip also emphasises how full on the public displays of affection are here in Bolivia and probably south america. Its like an epidemic here! People all over the place are making out- obstructing pathways, stopping traffic, delaying life in general! The song is hilarious but catchy and gets stuck in your head! We were taking a Trufi ride into Quillacollo and this teenage guy got on and sat right at the back. He had his phone with him and despite being in a confined space proceded to share his playlist with us at great volume! Lucky he had good taste! So Entre Mis Brazos comes on and the three of us all kinda liked the sound of it. We made Letitia turn around and ask in spanish for the name of the song. We couldn't help but laugh when we heard he called himself Nigga Flex.
There is a latin american cultural phenomenon known as "machismo"- it is the term used to describe the propensity for men to have to prove their machoism. Consequently, there is lots of whistling from cars, fights and domestic violence. However, this coupled with music is often a hilarious combination because latin american men are also very sappy when it comes to describing their love. Some songs drip with sickingly sweet cliche lines about the stars in your eyes etc etc. It is so far from their machismo! Enter...Nigga Flex- Into my Arms a typical example of these cultural characteristics clashy with vulgarity.
Today we were meant to go on a 12hr round trip "road trip" with Dr Romer. Unfortunately, last minute he pulled out. It was very sad! I had wanted to see some of the countryside and 12hrs of Dr Romer meant 12hrs of laughing and fun! At least we have our trip to Chapare to look forward to it.
That night we made the fateful decision to watch "Cool as Ice" another dvd we had bought from the dodgy pirating shop. It was hilarious! He takes himself was too seriously. At one point the character who plays his heart's desire is asleep. Ice hold ice between his fingertips and wakes her by touching it to her lips. Did I mention she had only met him once and he broke into her room. That aint cool its creepy!
Quote of the movie was when she was trying to get rid of him and said "I will see you later" the cool man Ice returned "You are seeing me now!" Brilliant! Ice is truly a poet! haha!
Despite the terrible acting and awful script we eventually became quite interested and were eager to see the story pan out (I might also mention we had no other alternatives lol). Just as it was reaching the climax dodgy pirate strikes again and the movie ends at just one hour. With over half an hour to go and with a dodgy ending left to see we were devastated! Cool as Ice is so bad that only a dodgy pirating place in Bolivia is likely to stock this! I will never see how the Ice man melts her heart! :(
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Moving to Tiny Town
Day 29- Tiny Town
So today we have been travelling for 4 weeks! It has gone by so fast! I am really dreading leaving Cochabamba. It has become home! I am loving the experience of Boliva. I love that we have to take smelly old Trufi's everywhere and pile in with a million people! I love that it smells like chicken poop and rotting fruit on every street corner. I love that I can't understand the language but people will greet you with a kiss and talk to you regardless! I love that everywhere you turn is colour and excitement. I love the sights, sounds and smells! I love Bolivia!
Today we had quite a quiet day! We shadowed the gynaecologist for a while who was soo sweet! She adds -ita to every word which makes it like a cutesy affectionate term regardless of what the word is!
Afterwards we did some preparation for the girls orphanage talk. We also found out that another volunteer was on their way and would be arriving next week. Consequently, we had to move rooms. We were to move into a room at the other end of the house. As the house used to be an orphanage for small children this room had a mini bathroom. With tiny preschool size toilets and tiny handbasins. Tiffany and I were moving into Tiny Town!
It is actually more physiologically correct for you to go to the toilet and have your knees above your waist so we decided it was a move in the right direction. Though everytime we go to sit down we fall at least 10cm! Ouch!
So today we have been travelling for 4 weeks! It has gone by so fast! I am really dreading leaving Cochabamba. It has become home! I am loving the experience of Boliva. I love that we have to take smelly old Trufi's everywhere and pile in with a million people! I love that it smells like chicken poop and rotting fruit on every street corner. I love that I can't understand the language but people will greet you with a kiss and talk to you regardless! I love that everywhere you turn is colour and excitement. I love the sights, sounds and smells! I love Bolivia!
Today we had quite a quiet day! We shadowed the gynaecologist for a while who was soo sweet! She adds -ita to every word which makes it like a cutesy affectionate term regardless of what the word is!
Afterwards we did some preparation for the girls orphanage talk. We also found out that another volunteer was on their way and would be arriving next week. Consequently, we had to move rooms. We were to move into a room at the other end of the house. As the house used to be an orphanage for small children this room had a mini bathroom. With tiny preschool size toilets and tiny handbasins. Tiffany and I were moving into Tiny Town!
It is actually more physiologically correct for you to go to the toilet and have your knees above your waist so we decided it was a move in the right direction. Though everytime we go to sit down we fall at least 10cm! Ouch!
Monday, October 11, 2010
La Concha, Corpses and Crepes
Day 28- Crepes after Corpses
After such a hard nights work in the ED Friday night ;P we decided to take the Monday off. We made plans to head into Cochabamba city and shop til we drop at La Cancha air market.
However, before we could go anywhere Tiff and I had to make the trip into Vinto to the fruit and vegetable market. We boarded a Trufi and made our way along the bumpy road to Vinto. This was our first excursion on our own since arriving in Cochabamba. We were excited about our independence but also a little anxious. I made a few people jump in their seat when I shouted for the Trufi to pull up at our stop a little too eagerly.
Armed with shopping bags and a list complete with spanish translation we made our way along the stalls laid out on the ground looking for the best bargains. It is ridiculously cheap here! A whole bag of tomatoes is less than 20c. One little lady grabbed our arms and chatted away too us excitedly in spanish. We caught "are you missionaries?" and "welcome" and "thankyou for coming". It was lovely to have such a friendly welcoming after the difficulties we had had with the community of Anocaraire. We were caught off guard by this precious little lady!
We successfully made our way through the list and were rather pleased with ourselves and our spanish shopping proficiency. For our last item we made our way toward a lady in traditional dress surrounded in by sacks of potatoes. "Cuanto cuesta por doce?" we asked gesturing toward the potatoes. In return we recieved a rapid monologue in a language other than spanish. Ah man, she speaks quechua!! We resorted to pointing...more rapid, more irritated speech. We mimed buying a bag of potatoes...still more rapid and frustrated speech. People around us started to watch the theatrics unfold before them. Other ladies surrounded by potatoes started yelling and spruiking their produce. Another lady tried to help us to no avail. Now quite embarrassed and no closer to getting any potatoes we made a run for it! Literally we ran off haha!
We found another lady who also did not speak spanish but seemed to understand a little more. We were in business. Just when we thought it was all solved we discovered instead of buying 12 potatoes we had bought 5kg of potatoes!!!
When we finally got into the city to La Cancha Tiffany and I went crazy! The ladies in the market must have thought all their christmases had come at once with these nutty blonde gringas. We walked from stall to stall grabbing item after item. The ladies could not keep up with us! Cuanto cuesta this and cuanto cuesta that! I only stopped because I ran out of bolivian money :(!
Laden with our purchases we made our way to the Bolivian Cultural Museum. This was amazing! They had four different section; prehistoric, pre-incan, incan and post spanish invasion. It was spectacular! In the prehistoric section they had bones of a mammoth and the shell of a giant armadillo-like creature. The pre-incan and incan parts of the museum were the most interesting. It was like stepping back into this other world. I felt a little like an intruder, ogling at the most personal aspects of their way of life. It was eerie even! They had clothes, toys, weapons, kitchen utensils, idols and musical instruments. I felt honoured though to have the opportunity to peak into the their past.
After the museum we headed straight for our fave spot "gringa cafe" Cafe Paris. We indulged ourselves with savoury and sweet crepes and cooly sipped coffee surrounded by backpackers and expats.
That night we had a huge bonfire and the American's helped us make smores. I made marshmallow choc bananas in the fire. Tiff and I put all Aussie's to shame when we failed to find the southern cross for the Americans. Our own hemisphere and we were lost! If anyone can help us spot us shoot us a message. I can't bare to lose anymore face in front of the Yankees!
After such a hard nights work in the ED Friday night ;P we decided to take the Monday off. We made plans to head into Cochabamba city and shop til we drop at La Cancha air market.
However, before we could go anywhere Tiff and I had to make the trip into Vinto to the fruit and vegetable market. We boarded a Trufi and made our way along the bumpy road to Vinto. This was our first excursion on our own since arriving in Cochabamba. We were excited about our independence but also a little anxious. I made a few people jump in their seat when I shouted for the Trufi to pull up at our stop a little too eagerly.
Armed with shopping bags and a list complete with spanish translation we made our way along the stalls laid out on the ground looking for the best bargains. It is ridiculously cheap here! A whole bag of tomatoes is less than 20c. One little lady grabbed our arms and chatted away too us excitedly in spanish. We caught "are you missionaries?" and "welcome" and "thankyou for coming". It was lovely to have such a friendly welcoming after the difficulties we had had with the community of Anocaraire. We were caught off guard by this precious little lady!
We successfully made our way through the list and were rather pleased with ourselves and our spanish shopping proficiency. For our last item we made our way toward a lady in traditional dress surrounded in by sacks of potatoes. "Cuanto cuesta por doce?" we asked gesturing toward the potatoes. In return we recieved a rapid monologue in a language other than spanish. Ah man, she speaks quechua!! We resorted to pointing...more rapid, more irritated speech. We mimed buying a bag of potatoes...still more rapid and frustrated speech. People around us started to watch the theatrics unfold before them. Other ladies surrounded by potatoes started yelling and spruiking their produce. Another lady tried to help us to no avail. Now quite embarrassed and no closer to getting any potatoes we made a run for it! Literally we ran off haha!
We found another lady who also did not speak spanish but seemed to understand a little more. We were in business. Just when we thought it was all solved we discovered instead of buying 12 potatoes we had bought 5kg of potatoes!!!
When we finally got into the city to La Cancha Tiffany and I went crazy! The ladies in the market must have thought all their christmases had come at once with these nutty blonde gringas. We walked from stall to stall grabbing item after item. The ladies could not keep up with us! Cuanto cuesta this and cuanto cuesta that! I only stopped because I ran out of bolivian money :(!
Laden with our purchases we made our way to the Bolivian Cultural Museum. This was amazing! They had four different section; prehistoric, pre-incan, incan and post spanish invasion. It was spectacular! In the prehistoric section they had bones of a mammoth and the shell of a giant armadillo-like creature. The pre-incan and incan parts of the museum were the most interesting. It was like stepping back into this other world. I felt a little like an intruder, ogling at the most personal aspects of their way of life. It was eerie even! They had clothes, toys, weapons, kitchen utensils, idols and musical instruments. I felt honoured though to have the opportunity to peak into the their past.
The most amazing, although disturbing attraction was the mummified corpses! They had resconstructed an incan tomb and inside were baskets full of mummified remains. One had its jaw dangling open in a silent scream! It seems that they carried their dead in baskets to tombs located in sacred areas.
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| Incan Tombs |
Another interesting observation here is that the inca people used to mould their heads into the shape of cones! Literally they were cone heads dad! They started from when the children were babies and their heads were soft and made them were hats that slowly shaped their head into a cone. Many of the corpses had cone shaped heads. It was very strange! In fact even today one of the most popular traditional head dresses is a beanie-type thing that makes your head appear as if it is the shape of a cone.
After the museum we headed straight for our fave spot "gringa cafe" Cafe Paris. We indulged ourselves with savoury and sweet crepes and cooly sipped coffee surrounded by backpackers and expats.
That night we had a huge bonfire and the American's helped us make smores. I made marshmallow choc bananas in the fire. Tiff and I put all Aussie's to shame when we failed to find the southern cross for the Americans. Our own hemisphere and we were lost! If anyone can help us spot us shoot us a message. I can't bare to lose anymore face in front of the Yankees!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Danger in Bolivia
When you are about to head overseas adults feel the need to scare you silly. With the best of intentions they share every horrifying and out right ridiculous story of travel dangers. From kidnapping and stealing your kidneys to being forced into carrying drugs hidden in balloons in your stomach across borders. Many a time a concerned adult has launched into a terrifying story of a young traveller caught in dangerous circumstances only to discover their story has an uncanny likeness to a box office thriller. Or "I had this friend who was wrongly convicted of carrying a large amount of drugs into Indonesia and she's spent years in an Indonesian jail". I'm pretty sure that you are talking about Chapelle Corby, you know her personally do you? Oh and I don't mean to pass judgement but I think you would find that it would be difficult to have 10kg of pot planted on you and not notice, wouldn't you say?
So it goes on and on like this, the stories get more and more frightening, and the truth gets in the way less and less...
I'm not silly I know there is a reality to these warnings and that terrible things do happen and you must always be extremely careful. But thankfully these situations are rare and often take a disregard for caution and a lack of sense to land in them.
But what I find remarkable is that no one warns you of the real danger. The type of danger that is common and tangible. The danger you encounter almost everyday. The danger of......the Bolivian roads! Anti-climax you say...not exciting enough for you? Well let me tell you, if anything is going to kill you in Bolivia...its not going to be druglords, gangsters or even piranhas it's going to be the Bolivian roads!
The roads of bolivia are a death trap. A license in Bolivia is both a death sentence and a license to kill. In Bolivia there is no rhyme or reason to the road. There is no such thing as giving way. A 'give way' here is over-ruled by 'get out of my way'. He who honks the loudest has right of way in Bolivia. There is no standard of vehicle in Bolivia, next to nothing warrants a vehicle unroadworthy. What do you need a windscreen for? What the heck is an indicator? But I did say next to nothing...if one's vehicle does not have a horn how would one know who has right of away. If you have no horn, you have no hope. Additionally the roads are terrible here and instead of slowing down to miss potholes and bumps bolivians just speed around them throwing you into the other passengers.
A red traffic light is merely a suggestion, not a command. A suggestion that is rarely entertained. A speed limit just a sign useful only for scrap metal. And the lanes on the road? Find a driver who knows what they mean and I will give you a million bolivianos.
If you don't have to slam on the brakes at least 20 times in your travels you mustn't be going anywhere. If you don't have at least 10 near misses then you just ain't driving right. If you don't lean on that horn continously then you shouldn't be driving.
Bolivia doesn't have seatbelts. Apparently they are not necessary? It seems to me that the more dangerous the roads and greater the likelihood that you will die on the road is directly proportional to the disregard of the necessity of the seatbelt. Go figure? And children's car seat would sell here about as well as ice to eskimo's. Children sit anywhere they please.
Everytime we hit the Bolivian streets I pray that God will get us there safely, I try not to swear when that car narrowly misses us or we pull out in front of a semi-trailer and I kiss the ground at the arrival to our destination.
So let me do you the favour that no one else seems to and warn you...when travelling in another country consider that the greater danger may not be druglords, gangsters and ferrocious native fauna but just might be the risk you take when you hop into that vehicle and find that your seat doesn't come with a seatbelt...
So it goes on and on like this, the stories get more and more frightening, and the truth gets in the way less and less...
I'm not silly I know there is a reality to these warnings and that terrible things do happen and you must always be extremely careful. But thankfully these situations are rare and often take a disregard for caution and a lack of sense to land in them.
But what I find remarkable is that no one warns you of the real danger. The type of danger that is common and tangible. The danger you encounter almost everyday. The danger of......the Bolivian roads! Anti-climax you say...not exciting enough for you? Well let me tell you, if anything is going to kill you in Bolivia...its not going to be druglords, gangsters or even piranhas it's going to be the Bolivian roads!
The roads of bolivia are a death trap. A license in Bolivia is both a death sentence and a license to kill. In Bolivia there is no rhyme or reason to the road. There is no such thing as giving way. A 'give way' here is over-ruled by 'get out of my way'. He who honks the loudest has right of way in Bolivia. There is no standard of vehicle in Bolivia, next to nothing warrants a vehicle unroadworthy. What do you need a windscreen for? What the heck is an indicator? But I did say next to nothing...if one's vehicle does not have a horn how would one know who has right of away. If you have no horn, you have no hope. Additionally the roads are terrible here and instead of slowing down to miss potholes and bumps bolivians just speed around them throwing you into the other passengers.
A red traffic light is merely a suggestion, not a command. A suggestion that is rarely entertained. A speed limit just a sign useful only for scrap metal. And the lanes on the road? Find a driver who knows what they mean and I will give you a million bolivianos.
If you don't have to slam on the brakes at least 20 times in your travels you mustn't be going anywhere. If you don't have at least 10 near misses then you just ain't driving right. If you don't lean on that horn continously then you shouldn't be driving.
Bolivia doesn't have seatbelts. Apparently they are not necessary? It seems to me that the more dangerous the roads and greater the likelihood that you will die on the road is directly proportional to the disregard of the necessity of the seatbelt. Go figure? And children's car seat would sell here about as well as ice to eskimo's. Children sit anywhere they please.
Everytime we hit the Bolivian streets I pray that God will get us there safely, I try not to swear when that car narrowly misses us or we pull out in front of a semi-trailer and I kiss the ground at the arrival to our destination.
So let me do you the favour that no one else seems to and warn you...when travelling in another country consider that the greater danger may not be druglords, gangsters and ferrocious native fauna but just might be the risk you take when you hop into that vehicle and find that your seat doesn't come with a seatbelt...
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