Like it Sweet? Wine Country, Tarija, Bolivia

I stumbled on this town by accident. I needed to get from Salta (Argentina) to see my friends in Potosi (Bolivia). Having had an ‘adventurous’ time coming through the other boarder point, I was keen to find another crossing. Asking around the bus station,’Tarija’ seemed to be the answer.

I took the bus at about 11pm out of Salta (cost of 600pesos [$70/£45] paying in cash). This gets you to a boarder town from where you catch a taxi to the boarder (4pesos [$0.45/£0.30]- although the taxi tends to wait until it has filled up). The Argentine passport office is approximately 1km from where they scan your bags (like in most airports) and the bridge that crosses into Bolivia. Weird? Agreed.

When I arrived it was very early morning, the sun had not broken the horizon yet, so the landscape was shrouded in darkness. A coolness hung in the air as I stumbled across the bridge connecting the countries with my heavy rucksack. Strange to note I was totally alone. Slightly scary.

At the next point you go into a small single story crudely built office, staffed by one older man. On the Argentina side there are several staff with computers to scan your passport as they quickly see you through. The Bolivian man looked up from his paper with the expression- ‘What do you want?!’ Then gestured for me to hand him my passport.

Is it just me or the more paperwork you have to fill in the more backward the country? (I hope no Bolivians read this post) On entering you have to fill out three forms. It was strange on this occasion as the immigration office threw one of the forms back. The comment followed that unless I was bringing agricultural products into the country I didn’t need it. Even though A. they have always taken the form off me and B. there is a box to tick which says ‘Nothing to declare’ and then you sign it. I tried to reason A and B with the immigration office but he just glarred at me. Time to leave.

About an hour and forty five minute taxi ride from the boarder finds you in Tarija. As usual not a clue what I was doing. But I’d heard a good backpackers hostel was ‘Casa Blanca’ so asked the taxi man to drop me there. I found a big sign on the door: ‘We are full’. Bugger.

Fortunately it was still early in the morning, so not too hot. I lugged the backpack round the town for at least two hours. The other hostels seem to (alarmingly) be full or expensive. Wondering a little way out of the centre I stumbled across a hostel called ‘Gran Londres’. Being from UK I just found this comedy. It is dated but a friendly woman owner greets you on entering. You get your own private room but there is no WiFi or breakfast (although I wondered down to the main square to eat a reasonably priced breakfast and rinse their WiFi) for Bs50/night ($7/£5). By now I was just grateful to get the rucksack off. And relax!

As I suspect in common with most hostels/hotels, you will be a sold a tour to the vineyards (approximately Bs100 [$15/£9]). But two blocks from Gran Londres a ‘taxi’ service frequently runs through out the day to the Valle Concepción (wine territory). It costs Bs6 ($0.80/£0.55) one way but you will need to wait for the taxi to fill up (I did it twice and didn’t wait for more than 10mins).  The journey takes around 45 minutes and the landscape along the way is at times breath taking.

Grapes. You get dropped off in the centre of the town which is a mix of colonial style buildings and more modern (pretty terrible) structures. A pleasant main square greets you. A short walk from here is the village’s football field and a Christ with his arms spread. But it looks like he’s been thrown on top of large decaying tree trunk. Then, as far as the eye can see, the village is surrounded by vines.

There seems to be a couple of wineries in the village. However, everyone talks about ‘Casa Vieja’. So I went in. You have a choice of three types (sweet, semi sweet and dry) in red or white. I thought I’d go middle of the road and ordered the semi. Basically it tasted like someone had added some coloured alcohol to a bag of sugar. Sweet, very.

The other problem is that they serve it by the jug (Bs25 [$3.60/£2.30]). Great if you are in a group, not so much fun if you are a lone traveller, like me. So by two in the afternoon I was absolutely drunk! Cheers.

To catch a taxi back head to the main square (a pleasant 7min walk from Casa Viaja [turn right outside the front door and head straight]). But a lesson to remember is there is no sense of queueing here. So you see a taxi, get in it!

Signing off with love from South America

Bolivia – Seriously Difficult to Leave….

Silver Time- Potosi, Bolivia

Once silver was discovered in the mountains in 1500s, the town grew at a rapid rate. During the early to middle part of last century, with the high silver price and it being plentiful in the surrounding rocks the town was possibly the richest in S America. There is even an expression here which roughly translates ‘As rich as Potosi’. However,  as the supply dwindled so did the fortunes of the town which now has increasing unemployment.

The city is cool (colder than La Paz), so dress for the weather. The area contains well maintained colonial heritage with grand buildings overlooking narrow and winding streets, radiating from a central plaza. While there are 133,000 inhabitants,  there is not the sense of a big city and the streets feel safe to wonder around.

I took a tour to the mines (Curtosy of my friend Jackie who runs Claudia Travel in the centre of the town [I swapped the trip for tips on renovating her shop, so if you don’t like the colour scheme, blame me!]). You are told, quite correctly,  before you enter, that the mine is not a museum but a fully functioning enterprise,  as such you need to be weary of those working there (and get out of the way of the rapidly passing waggons!). The guide also says that the mines are very warm, so I wore a T shirt under my jump suit… they aren’t warm!

Before you sent off for the mine you stop at a shop and are encouraged to buy supplies for the miners. In my case this included: a soft drink, coca leaves, hand made cigarettes (DON’T imagine a Cuban cigar, more tabacco rolled in newspaper) and near 100% proof alcohol.

You amble through the mines with the guide trying to rush you along to avoid the waggons which use the same route. The tunnels are cool, dark places with watery mud under foot (the tour provides Wellington boots). Along the route you are introduced to ‘Tia’, who is a statue, with a large ‘manhood’ proudly on display. The Spanish conquistadors wanted the local indigenous population to worship the Christian God so put the statue in the mine to represent the devil of the underworld. Interestingly the locals don’t see the devil as pure evil, more as a person who fell out with god and was banished below ground. As such the miners offer gifts to the statue: coca leaves, beer, candles, etc so that they can be safe while working there. At this point the guide encourages you to drink the 100% alcohol. First you pour a bit on the ground as thanks to mother eat (she must get blind drunk most days!) and then sample the liquid… considering what I’ve drunk through the years in my expert opinion- Not bad! The tour lasts for about an hour and gives you an interesting insight into the town.

Warning: there are two terminals in the city, make sure you know which one to go to. From Potosi to Uyuni it cost Bs30 ($4/£2) and left at 11am (they leave quite regularly,  other examples are 9am, 2.30pm and 8pm). Journey times are appox 4hrs and the road there is tarmac (a real novelty in these parts).

Journey from Uyuni to Villazon (on the Boarder between Bolivia and Argentina)

Probably my most hilarious journey to date.

I had agreed with a friend (Rene) to travel to Argentina together, so met in a town in the south of Bolivia called Uyuni. From here we took the bus to the boarder and as such begun the adventure.

The bus, along with all the others, can be caught from a dusty street north of the main pedestrian strip in Uyuni. The cost was Bs60 ($8/£6) and left at 8pm. The ticket seller adviced me it was a 9 hour trip… We appeared at our destination 15hrs later, but what happened in between was almost comedy at times.

You either pay full price for a guaranteed seat or less and take your chances. The bus was full,  as such about 8 people had to stand or sit in the gang way for the trip.

On board there were three employees. At first we thought they were all drivers who would swap round during the journey, no such luck. One was a driver, the other helped collect the money and load and unload bags and the final was the mechanic (imagine the confidence this gave us…).

The ‘road’ was simply a muddy track which had so many ridges you quickly understood what had happened to the suspension. Rivers flowed across the route, which worried the driver to the extent he had to get off and see if he considered it crossable. At points the water would come up to about 0.5m below the windows.

At one section the road got so muddy the driver asked all the passengers to get off the coach and walk approx 200m as he wanted to lessen the weight on board to guarantee getting through the mud. By now it was about 11pm, the temperature had dropped considerably and the rain was lashing down (we didn’t realise this till getting off the  bus. For example Rene was still in his T-shirt, shivering extremely and he’s Austrian). After about 10mins of squeezing the bus through the mud, we could finally get back on.

At about 12pm the driver decided he wanted some shut eye so stopped the bus and had a sleep for approx 2hrs. With little else to do (we were in the middle of no where) the rest of us joined him.

The journey continued until we hit another muddy patch about 2.30am. We got off again and Rene and me expected to walk the same 200m as before… a 2.5km hike ensured! Picture the scene: it was pitch black (I’d forgotten my tourch on the bus), there had been heavy rain and as such the route was extremely muddy. What do you choose: the muddy slippery road which is flat or along the sides which were slightly dryer, pebbly but with a very uneven surface (remember you can’t see much in this moment)? I tried both, with varying degrees of failure,  my muddy trouses being testament to this. Rene jokes we got a free hike included in the trip which we’d probably have had to pay a much higher price for with a tour operator. I can’t entirely disagree with him, but at 2.30am, I was not in the mood for a hike and would have stayed in bed given the choice.

Finally back on the bus and it was beginning to get light. We swung through the mountain side, don’t imagine a scene from ‘The Sound of Music’ of the bus gliding through the Alps while we were all singing gayly…. More the fact that the track was uneven, muddy, there was a sheer drop one side of us (which we got very close to if there were any cars travelling in the other direction), clinging to the seats for sheer terror (you can see from one of the photos of cracked front windscreen and the state of the road) and the bus broke down three times. Once (photo) was in a beautiful place with dramatic scenery. However,  the on board mechanic had to fix the brakes (photo) and then said to the driver: ‘I’ve done my best with them’, inspiring confidence in his passengers.

Off we went again winding through the south Bolivian outback. And then (shock horror) we found a road with tarmac! Rene and me awoke thinking we were already in Argentina. But jokingly promised each other that during the next protest in La Paz (of which these are regular) we would take photos and hold them up for the President chanting ‘We want more of these’ (forming our own mini protest, and probably confusing the on looking locals).

Driving along the tarmac roads there was an alarming smell of burning rubber, to which even the driver looked stressed about. Stop, off hops the mechanic who returns a short while later, looks at the driver, shakes his head and says (roughly translated) ‘No chance’. As such the driver then flagged down a passing mini bus and piles all our bags on it.

The mini van was comparatively new, the road: tarmac but we were subjected to loud Bolivian dance music… I won’t repeat Rene’s thoughts but lets say it won’t be making his iPod selection any time soon.

Finally, 15hrs later, at the boarder with our bags (and lives), what were we complaining about….

Its Carnival time in Bolivia

The White City, Sucre, Bolivia

Here goes for the interesing fact, as recognised by the constitution, Sucre is the capital of Bolivia. Not as many of our school text books claim as La Paz, this is the seat of the government. Sucre was where peace was made between the natives of Bolivia and the Spanish during the wars of independence.

As pointed out by two mates ‘Sucre’ is the French word for sugar. This is a strange coincidence that the best chocolate in the country is supposed to come from here. Anyone know if there is a connection?

The journey here was some comedy in itself. I caught a bus from Cochabamba (Bs 50 [approx $7/£5]). Before you leave people get on selling everything from soft drinks to stewed chicken legs. But as we pulled away from the bus terminal a young enthusiastic guy got on and gave a whole speech about making sure we kept our teeth clean (including showing us some graphic images where people hadn’t clean their’s, apparently). He then gave us some ‘free’ ‘whitening cream’ for our teeth, which was ‘recommended’ by the Dental Association…. Again off he went with his presentation and it turned out that if we brought a toothbrush off him we got to keep the free sample. To be honest it smelt so horrible I was happy to hand it back.

Nine hours later we arrived in Sucre at 5am. Blurry eyed I asked the taxi man how much to get to the hostel I wanted to go to. To my surprise he quoted Bs5 (approx 70cents/50p) [they usually try to pull a fast one but I was happy if he was ‘ripping me off’, the terminal is approx 1.5km out of town and I didn’t fancy lugging my backpack that far].

Most of the hostels are around Mercardo Central. I went with a friend’s recommendation as her mate runs one. The hostel, called Churuella, is basic but has wifi and is Bs40/nite ($6/£4). There are a number of hostels near by for a similar price or upwards of Bs100 ($14.50/£9) for a dormitory with shared bathroom.

The city is beautiful. The centre is based on colonial architecture to the degree it sometimes feels like being in Madrid. Squares (or plazas as they are called here) are decorated with statues (usually heros of the independence war), greenery (tropical trees and exotic shrubs), streets are made of tarmac (!) which do not have street sellers sprawled over them so there is a pleasant pavement and room for people to walk and get shade under the trees that line them. In the centre you can make a property any colour you want… as long as its white.

Arriving early morning I stumbled down the street in desperate need of a coffee. At the bottom of the street is the city’s park a quiet oasis where the locals come to take their leisure time. A monument has been constructed in the centre that takes it inspiration form the Eiffel Tower, what do you think…?

Well I said quiet, but on this Sunday it was race day here in Sucre as petrol heads gather from all over the region to compete to be Sucre’s finest. As you might note from the photos there were no barriers between track and spectator. As such there were points during the race people just wondered across the track. I and some other bystanders held our breath as there were few near misses.

Currently it is the run up to Carnival week. The locals celebrate this by turning the city into a massive water fight. Alone I counted at least 30 people selling water balloons in the park. Generally it is a chance for the teenage boys to soak the young girls. Although no one is immune, at one point I looked like I’d just walked through the monsoons. How to handle this? Join in. The ‘battle’ went on all over the town with youngsters arming themselves with giant water pistols and others getting on the backs of pick ups and riding around the city with buckets of water.

I added a photo of the Grand Hotel as this is the final place Chev Guevara stayed before being caught and executed. He stayed in room 8, if you are interested. The hotel does a set lunch for Bs30 ($4.50/£3) and has a small garden to look at.

All in all my thoughts about the city: Recommended.

Dinosaur Town, (& Possibly Bolivia’s best kept Secret), Toro Toro, Bolivia

Travelling alone without a clear itinerary has its ups and downs, I’ll try and illustrate.

Toro Toro is approx 135km southeast of Cochabamba. It is a village with interesting houses where the streets are a mix of cobbles and mud set in a green(ish) valley with towering hills and friendly locals. Very tranquil,  picturesque and a world apart from La Paz and Cochabamba. The major draw, other than the scenery, is the dinosaur tracks that have been found here.

You catch the bus in Cochabamba,  it is supposed to set off at 5pm, however, the one I was on didn’t leave until 6.30pm (much to the annoyance of some of the passengers). The Lonely Planet comments that the road has improved… I shudder to think what it was like before! Again it lacks in tarmac and sweeps through the Bolivian countryside. The driver didn’t bothering to slow down for on coming traffic (the roads are barely wide enough for a single car) which meant other drivers at times had to swerve into ditches to avoid him and he generally drove the vehicle like a rally car, as opposed to a bus. This didn’t seem to concern the driver who was happily singing to his co pilot, just his 50 odd passengers who seem to be turning a few shades lighter (I’m still white as milk so didn’t look like I’d changed… externally!). At one point the bus must have kissed the edge of the cliff, so he turned to the co-pilot and said ‘That was close’, then laughed loudly and carried on singing.

Additionally, there was no light on the bus and the leg room was tight (didn’t help that the bloke in front titled his seat as far back as possible). As such trying to get stuff out of my bag, like food, was a nightmare. There were three young Spanish girls on the bus who I smiled at and said hi when we got off, they giggled. To my horror i hadn’t realise till later that I’d split a load of chocolate down my white polo top (don’t ask me for any pulling tips…).

I had come to assume, as with other journeys, if you catch the bus after 5pm you arrive the next day… not in this case, we got to Toro Toro at 11.30pm. There are a couple of street lights but these are not great. When we got off, and I realised the street was more mud then stone, I had to ask the driver if we were here (no announcements are made, I just got off as everyone else seem to be), he said ‘Si’. So grabbed my bag.

Picture the scene, its 11.30pm, you are in a strange village, there is a party going on in the middle of the street with a few drunk locals wondering past you, no one seem to know where the hostels were… finally a young girl directed me to one. The hostel is basic but well located and costs approx £2.50, $3/night which is about the going rate for most places without Internet.

There was a party going on along the street with loud music and people sat drinking and chatting. I walked through the crowd but didn’t get invited to any conversations (def not the local’s fault) so strolled back to the hostel. This is the downside to traveling solo, with a mate you could have hung around longer without feeling awkward and may have been invited to chat.

The party went on until about 2am, with the loud music this made sleep difficult. Unfortunately once the music went off the lady in the room alongside me started chatting loudly… I did get up about 4am to relieve myself. Hilariously there were three men stood outside her door, and they all had their tail between their legs,  as if being told off. She was so loud I thought she was just talking to herself (!).

Got up early and had a stroll through the village the following morning, down to the stream and along the widing road. The pictures don’t do it justice but this place is postcard perfect. I ended up here almost by accident- a mixture of wanting to get out of Cochabamba and try somewhere off the beaten trail. However, this place has exceeded my expectations and is, at the moment at least, my favourate place in Bolivia. The plus side to travelling alone, you get to make your own itinerary. Also more people tend to talk to you if you are alone, feeling less threatened then if you are with a partner or in a group.

The locals not only say hello back (they don’t in most other places here) but come to shake your hand and welcome you, not wishing for anything else other than for you to enjoy your time in the place. However, you may find that the older locals don’t answer you. Its important to understand that they may only speak their own tribal language (i.e. not Spanish or English), but this does not detract from the experience.

The life is tranquil and easy going, a far cry from La Paz and Cochabamba which had its streets filled with stores forcing you to walk in the road, throbbing with people and the, sometimes, feeling of unease.

A small river glides by the village and you can walk in either direction along it. The water is generally clear and clean so the Spanish girls, locals and me took to swimming in it (its not very deep). Something to consider though is that during the day people wash their clothes and even cars in it…

The streets are generally cobbled and about three motor bikes and two buses tend to pass over them a day. Young kids play in the street and dogs roam around them pestering the tourists for food (they are friendly).

I ended up meeting the Spanish girls again and we went on an organised tour of the national park with a couple of girls from Chile. Entre to the park is 30 Bolivianos (approx £3/$3.70) and the tour cost Bs101 (approx £10/$13), which is a lot by local standards but was worth it. Firstly you get driven into the mountains and trek around taking in the landscape. Then you go to look at underground caves, where stalagmites have been forming over 1000s of years. The trip would completely fail any UK/USA health and safety tests, which was part of the fun. They dress you with a hard hat and torch attached, thats it. You quickly lose the natural light and walk over streams that flow underground with wet slippery rocks, use ropes to lower your self into caverns and crawl through spaces that are so tight you can feel the rocks scrap against you. The girls (bless them) could be slow at points, so me and the guide would hide behind rocks and suprise them. Childish I know, but great fun.

On day two- there is a trek of about 3km through dry scrub land. As you set off from the town, the guide points to the rocks at your feet and various  footprints left by the dinosaurs. Pictured is a Pterodactyl print as he hoped along the anicent muddy floor.  Along the route is a viewing point, built in memory of a local, which overlooks a canyon. The sheer rocks faces have been eroded down by a mighty river in the valley floor but tell the tail of evolution in this part of the world with the various layers that have been exposed. Then, after what feels like 10,000 steps and over various slippery rocks, is paradise. A set of four waterfalls that cascade over the mountain side to the pools below. The guide challenged us to jump off a four metre high rock into the water. Guess who was the only one stupid enough to take him up on it… At least I had my own shorts but imagine plunging from soaring temperarures into water that felt like jumping into the Russian sea, one word- COLD! Fortunately though didn’t break anything. On the plus side, the water is crystal clear so I filled up my water bottles (and haven’t brought a bottle since being here). The experience though was so worth it.

The tour is organised in typical Bolivian fashion- ‘Meet here at eight’, we were there on time and then they decided to start the tour at about 9.30-10….

They have a small museum here approx 3.5 miles out of town, a pleasant walk along a dirt road. Entry is 5 bolivianos (50p/70cents) and the place is only 4 rooms big, decorated with picture boards explaining the evolution of the landscape (from the ‘big bang’), some small plastic dinosaurs and about 10 fossils. The young lad running the place asked if I wanted to watch a video which explained the area’s culture and how the paleontologists find the bones and take samples of footprints, so I said ‘Si’. I walked into a room with approximately 30 chairs but it was just us two, his older sister (17 at a guess), younger brother (3?) and sister (4?). The younger brother kept looking at me (probably wondering what a ghost was doing in the room- need to work on my tan), so I pulled a face. This caused him to giggle uncontrollably to which everyone else then erupted into laughter and joined in pulling faces and making hilarious noises. Don’t know if the film was any good, but we had a great time.

The Spanish girls and I agreed that we found the place by accident (someone was talking about it in Cochabamba in my case) as it does not really appear on any tourist maps. But what a find- hence the title ‘Bolivia’s best kept secret’. Now just hoping that Lonely Planet don’t find it… I ended up staying longer than expected but loved it. Unfortunately had to return to civilisation as there are no cash machines here!

Cochabamba, Bolivia

Before I carry on must admit my impression of the place wasn’t great, getting lost didn’t help but the busy, dirty town with its vehicle fumes was just like any other third world city.

I was meant to take the night bus the day before but ended up getting drunk with Enrique instead… We agreed to meet at 8am the next day, in Bolivian I translated this to mean about 10, but all credit to Enrique he showed up on time (for the first time). We did a few things around La Paz (including getting me a much needed coffee), then he got me to the bus station.

I arrived in Cochabamba about 10pm. It was dark, the bus parked some distance from the terminal, there was a man taking a leak across from the bus (in complete public), getting off the bus I fell over an empty whiskey bottle, I had a heavy rucksack and no taxis seem intent to want to stop.

Finally one did and took me to a hostel Enrique recommended called ‘Buenos Aires’. Built probably around the 60s…. with nothing done to it since,  even the bedding did not seem to be updated. But it was clean and had wifi, so I thought the Bs50 ($7/£5) was justifiable. The problem was that reception had a typewriter which the person manning it used until 3am and started again at 7pm. Also the TV was in the lobby and was left on with the volume up until 5am. All in all, within 2 days I prob got 6hrs sleep….

A popular site around the city is the statue of Christ with his arms outstretched. For info many places in South America have a similar statue, examples being Lima, Cusco and I think I counted at least 3 in La Paz. Cochabamba’s claim to fame is it has the second highest (no prizes for guessing where the biggest is). There are steps up to it but everyone (in my case Enrique, the owner of my hostel, a number of signs and an ice cream seller at the base) tell you the path is dangerous and you are likely to get robbed. Fortunately there is a cable car to the top (return trip $1.8/£1.20).

The site offers great views over the city and surrounding landscape. Some girls at the top insisted on having their photo taken with me (who can blame them)… unfortunately they were old enough to be my mother but very friendly and have told me to come and see them when I return from Argentina.

Then I had been told about a picturesque village near Cochabamba called Toro Toro. If buses use the main terminal they have to effectively pay rent, so a number operate from local street shops. I asked about 15 locals how to find the shop I needed and near got 15 different answers. Wondering around the bustling streets for about 4 hours and it either poured it down (turning the map i had into paper machete) or the sun roasted you, not many of the streets are sign posted so you have to ask and some locals are more friendly/helpful than others. Eventually a bus driver got me on the right track and I managed to get a ticket. After which I went back to the hostel exhausted (and a little pissed off).

The following day saw the main square with the church facing on to it, beautiful architecture but clock had stopped at 4pm (heart stopping moment, until I realised it was actually only 12.30pm). It rained heavily and I got lost… again, mad panic to get back to the hostel, get my stuff and catch the bus. So I was soaked, cold, very tired and panicked as needed to get the transport on time.

Personal view point only: didn’t enjoy the experience.

Life in Bolivia

I realise my blog has a lot about La Paz, but honestly I’ve met a few friendly people and it is proving hard to leave. But leave I must this week, hopefully. Also it has been difficult to choose what photos to leave out.

One thing that really captivates you about La Paz is how mountainous it is. The photos only tell part of the story. While it rains in the city the higher regions remain relatively dry, creating an unforgiving environment- largely treeless with bare rock.  Enrique tells me that houses higher up the slopes from the city do not receive any water or sanitation. The higher peaks (around 6000ft from sea level) are snow covered, although global warming has seen the white shrink. Apparently,  about 10 years ago there use to be a ski resort to rival those in the Alps, but this has not been possible recently.

Enrique was telling me about life in Bolivia. If you have a chid here for the first two years the government supplies,  free of charge, that which is required to bring up the child: powdered milk, butter, nappies, etc. Often it is more than is required, so Enrique said that he hands the surplus to other family members. However, people often sell the whole lot to make ends meet.

Health is free here (rather like the National Health Service in UK) but it is basic, no radiography,  ultrasound,  etc for example.

Cable Cars and Minbueses- La Paz currently has three, new, cable cars that take you up the mountain slopes: red, green and yellow. I’ve only been on the red (on my own) as Enrique doesn’t see the point in them so prefers to take the minibus. A return trip costs 80cents/60p. Although of average height in UK,  here I’m a comparative giant and have to fold myself in and out of the mini van.

Enrique complains bitterly that as the city has grown the number of trees has rapidly decreased (I imagine he will get a lot of sympathy for his thoughts). Slopes that use to be thickly covered with forests are now bare or filled with houses. I tried to ask him if they had Tree Preservation Orders (TPOs) but he didn’t understand so I presume not. His fear is that they will need to start importing oxygen from other countries to fuel the city.

Manners and queuing is not something that seems to be part of the culture. Getting onto a mini bus with Enrique I gave him ‘a bit’ of space to squeeze himself into the space, a young lad then inserted himself in front of me to get on and encourage his mate, I lost patience and pushed his mate out of the way to get on (I was bloody well there first). Additionally I was waiting in the queue to get a photocopy. It was evidently my turn was next but an older guy tried to push in front, not only did I shout louder but shot him a dirty look.

Driving- if you ever come to La Paz take a taxi ride somewhere, just for the experience. If you ever want to sell a car here don’t worry if the indicators don’t work (no one seems to use them anyway) just make sure it has a good horn (they use this all the time, even when obviously the traffic in front of them can’t go anywhere). They also give each no space, randomly pull out even if there are cars coming behind them (seemingly without looking or indicating), go when the lights are red (pain if you are a pedestrian) and fly across cross roads even if it is not their right of way.

Rubbish- busy teaching my students that the Brits say ‘rubbish’ and our American counsins say ‘trash’ (anyone fancy correcting me?). There is a $450/£300 fine if caught dropping litter but this seems to be largely ignored. It leaves real eyesores in parts around La Paz but thankfully there is an army of street clearners who continue to keep the city centre tidy.

Rain- It is currently the rainy season (I’m here in January/February). At the moment it rains approx every three days and comes down in a torrential storm for about 4 hours. Interestingly those places higher than the centre of La Paz tend to receive very little rain if any.

Keeping Safe- in tandem with the LP, Enrique warns of the prossible dangers of Bolivia. People may offer you things e.g. a beer. This will probably be in a friendly way but be aware as it might be laced with a sleeping drug and you will awaken in a strange place stripped of your belongings (Enrique tells a story of when a pretty girl offered him a drink… he awoke missing all his cash and his mobile). Additionally you may be asked to read something from a bit of paper because the person claims to be hard of seeing or blind. Again take care as the paper may be laced with a sleeping drug that has been put onto the paper and is rapidly absorbed by your skin.

Condors, Pumas and Snakes- Like many countries, Bolivia has a long history and many tribes, some like the Incas were big but most were small. Ancient civisations believed in God, mother earth and the under world and that three creatures could communicate with them. Condors spoke to God, Pumas to mother earth and Snakes to the under world. As such you will see a lot of this in art work from this part of the continent.

Spanish- It is nearly essential to learn some Spanish before you come to visit. Those in the larger city will have better English but experience will be enhanced by knowing some of the local language. Speaking to some Spanish girls I met it is important to realise that not only does the accent change but words and use of the language from country to country. For example, although on the most part they taught me, I taught them a few words I learnt having lived in Venezuela. An example being when you are asked how you are in Spanish, the usual reply is ‘muy bien’. In Venezuela they use ‘Chevere’ meaning very good. Actually you can base a whole conversation on this word, like- ‘How are you?’ Chevere; ‘How was it last night?’ Chevere; ‘Hows the girlfriend’ Chevere; ‘Shall we meet tonight?’ Chevere.

Fellow Travelers- Interestingly at the moment the majority of tourists appear to be French. Usually I meet Brits, Australians (tick) and Germans (Tick), but can anyone explain the French invasion?

Population- locals, other travellers, etc seem infatuated with knowing the population of places. As such my advice is learn the population size of your village, town or city and that of your country. If you live in UK good lesson to explain is that the UK does not equal England, as many people assume. For a laugh I reply ‘Britanico’ when asked where I’m from (meaning British), the natural reaction is ‘Ok, Inglaterra’ (meaning ‘England’, imagine what a Scot would say…)

Bolivian Food

As with Peru, I intend to add to this blog.

Catus fruit: catus produce a soft fruit each year, covered in thorns. It is a soft fruit, purple or bright yellow in colour and needs to be cut open. The fruit though is beautifully sweet (not sickly), recommended.

I’ve included a photo of another fruit I got from the market (need to find its name out). Eaten as you see it, skin and all is a combination of sweet and mostly sour or sharp like an orange. Brought a bag of 15 and, as lovely as they are eating more than 2 is impossible.

Chocolate is a national obsession with each region producing its own. Sucre, a city in central Bolivia, has some of the best so I am looking forward to trying that. However Enrique had some from the north of the country, this is very strong and not to be eaten like a chocolate bar but added to hot drinks. It looks like a normal bar of chocolate and you can either add it to water or milk, I tried both and honestly prefer it with water.

Most dishes are served with rice or/and chips, generally not spicy (although they give you a spicy sauce to add).

Sauntee (yes I know its spelt wrong) is like a pastry, for which they add meat or/and vegetables, really filling, but they make it in the morning, so get it while fresh!

Anticucho- An interesting dish they have here is cow’s heart. It is served from street stalls with a spicy peanut butter sauce and potatoes. The meat is like eating tender liver cut into thin slices, really not bad.

They have a drink here called ‘api’ (pronounced- ‘appy), its served hot, is non alcoholic and a mix of red and milky white. It is made from maize, the taste though is indescribably, not unpleasant; so if you get a chance try it.

Minta- Triangular in shape and comes wrapped in a dried banana leaf it is made of maize (picture a thick dough) and is bit bigger than the size of your hand. Slightly sweet but otherwise tasteless, great for filling you up but would not be one of my recommendations.

For breakfast the other day had a sandwhich made with avocado and a slice of cheese, add salt to flavour (I don’t usually add salt but worked in this instance). Really enjoyable (nothing to do with the fact I had a terrible hangover and was in need of food, as can be shown by photo…)

Sopa Mani- Does anyone know what ‘mani’ is? Slighty thick soup, milky in colour with what I assume are green herbs floating in it. Added is pasta and beef (which is usually very fatty or chewy). Again not unpleasant but can’t imagine Jamie Oliver rushing to add it to his next book. [Figured out what ‘Mani’ is- peanut. I’ve eaten this soup in several different restaurants and places and never got the taste of peanut, so serious??!!]

Caranbola- Easy to describe this: spaghetti bolognese with potatoe. What makes it interesting is that they apparently have 30 different types of potato and it is a lottery which variety you get. The funny part was that they gave me a spoon to eat it with…..

Slipancho- a popular dish here, where rice and fries/chips (these seem to come with most meals) are put on the plate, meat is then layered over them (very thin and reminds me of kebab meat). A fried egg and finely chopped tomatoes and onions added, spicy sauce is then offered as a side if required (the spicyness will change from place to place so be aware). If you are hungry this dish will do the trick (great hangover food, apparently).

Restaurants often don’t supply paper napkins which you might be use to but simple cut up bits of cheap paper. These unfortunately don’t tend to absorb any of the greece from you hands and just move the food around your face (as opposed to wiping it off).