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.
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