A vacation within our vacation

Our last few weeks in Bolivia have been travel packed. We took a vacation within our vacation to be a bit more touristy and visit some sites and pay for some guided tours.

We started our trip within a trip with a visit to the Hacienda of Candelaria and the surrounding countryside to see the weavers of this region and were hosted by three generations of the owners of the hacienda that has been in their family for 6 generations. Great discussions of politics, land reform, poverty, traditions and history – and wonderful food cooked over a fire stove with 8 – 10 holes in it for pots of various sizes. The hacienda was similar to a feudal castle in that it was the residence of the land owner and the villages that sprung up around them were for their support and were people that worked the land but didn’t own it – and the amount of land that went with the haciendas was huge. Enough to support 10,000 people or more I would guess. Liz’s family went through land reform in 1952 when the campesinos (peasants/people from the countryside) had organized into militias and other changes were going on in the government. Her grandmother met a group at the door once with a double-barreled gun and explained that she thought she could kill 3 of them before they could kill her. Eventually the people supported the owner of the hacienda (Liz’s grandparents) and they were able to keep the main house and a small orchard as well as some land a distance away. We were both attracted to the candor and poise of our main host Liz who told stories from her youth and explained the culture that we were seeing.

One of the stories she told us was about a story found in one of the Tejidos (textiles). It was a story about a partridge and a fox. The partridge is going to go to heaven for a big feast and is gloating about it to the fox. “It is only for pretty creatures that can fly high.” “Take me with you please,” the fox begs and eventually the partridge acquiesces. The feast is huge and abundant, but the fox makes a pig of himself and is rude and greedy. The partridge tells the fox he is not going to take him back to earth, but the fox says, “Who cares!? I’ve already had my fill, and I’ll use a rope to descend from the sky.” On his way back to earth he meets two parrots and begins to taunt them. “I’ve just been in heaven. It is for pretty birds and creatures who can fly. It’s not for ugly birds like you. You just squawk and can’t fly high, and you weren’t invited. “ The parrots bit the rope that the fox was descending from heaven on and he fell to earth and died. His stomach split open and the contents that he had eaten in heaven spilt onto the ground, and this accounts for the bounty of things we have on earth today – good foods and drink and the abundance of things we find from the earth.

We then took in Tarabuco for the second time – this time for the festival of Pulljay with dancers and politicians and lots of other gringos dancing and picture taking. Miss Bolivia was there too – she was a candidate for governor of one of the departments (although on Easter Sunday the elections were held and she lost, but I read in the paper she is talking about election fraud now). The textiles of the region are amazing and worn by the small groups dancing and playing instruments: Colorful ponchos, intricately woven skirts, decorated leather hats, wooden shoes with 2 sets of spurs on them as a type of musical instrument… The beer and potable rubbing alcohol and chicha was also flowing freely at this celebration. Participants dance around a large tower loaded with things that Pacha Mama has given or things symbolizing the earth’s abundance. Traditionally everything on this goes to the family that will pay for next year’s even bigger tower… Once again we were treated to feast of stories and political insights. “That man behind us was the Mayor of Sucre when the constitutional referendum was held and they burned his just completed house down on the third day,” for example.

We were both sorry we hadn’t met Liz earlier, I would have enjoyed helping do some work on the hacienda, and she is such a class act that we wanted more of her company. We ended up coming back a day earlier than planned from our next trip to be able to have dinner with their family and spend the afternoon with Liz before she departed to lead a guided trip across the Salt Flats.

We left Tarabuco without having bought any textiles, but were now on the lookout for them. We flew the next morning to La Paz, ringed by stunning mountains, and sitting at around 2 miles high it made breathing a bit difficult. We flew on to the Amazon rainforest and spiraled upward in the plane to get over the mountain range where once on the other side the landscape plunges away to a level of 200 meters above sea level. We arrived in Rurrenabaque hot and humid, and were the next day on our way up one of the tributaries of the Amazon – Rio Beni to Madidi National Park (written about several times in National Geographic and notable in our memory for Joel Satore’s description of biting things and critters…) We saw a capybara family hanging out on the shore (picture 300 pound beavers who have been crossed with guinea pigs and you get the picture).

Then two hours into our 6 hour journey we saw an ocelot swimming across the river. It was about half way across and right next to our boat. We freaked it out and it turned to swim back to the nearer shore. We let the boat drift backward and were able to watch the wet cat – keeping his head and ears out of the water but nothing else – make his way back to shore, slip a bit on the rocks and blend into the vegetation.

Chalalan lodge is a special place. It is built in the heart of Madidi by a community who 15 years ago decided to try and become eco-friendly and earn money from tourists instead of forest products. The buildings are beautiful and the site is full of nature. Trails are well marked and we saw in our 5 days in the jungle 4 different types of monkeys, 2 snakes, lizards, frogs, caiman, tarantulas, a cicillian – one of the strangest animals I’ve ever seen – also called the “blind snake”, it is an amphibian that looks like an overgrown worm or a really slow snake, toucans, red and green macaws, and numerous other birds. One of the things that impressed me though is how empty the jungle is… some days we walked for hours without seeing a thing – and although the jungle supports extraordinary amount of diversity, it is not like the illustrations might lead one to believe full of a monkey and snake and birds in every tree.

Because the lake is pure and they use the water for drinking, people are asked to not wear insect repellent or sunscreen when they go swimming. One day I was heading down for a swim but decided instead to canoe around the lake and look for monkeys… Although I didn’t know it at the time, the no-see-ums had me for lunch, and they happen to be a vector for Leishmaniasis – also known as tropical ulcers or dry leprosy. The next day I could feel and see the bites and had more than 250 on my lower body. One of them developed blisters and bumps after 1o days or so and that is when we started getting more concerned and saw a few doctors. So far it is early and hasn’t erupted into an open wound, so the prevailing advice seems to be wait and see, and that it is probably not Leishmaniasis…. The last doctor we saw was before we were supposed to board our plane to exit the country and as a result of this and other things we missed our flight out and spent an extra 2 days in Bolivia.

After leaving the Amazon, we headed to Copacabana (not the Rio Beach) on Lake Titicaca to have a night on Isla del Sol (island of the Sun) where the Incas believed the sun was born, and which is often compared to the Greek Islands. It felt very pastoral and was fun and exhausting to climb the 1000 steps up to the ridge for the panoramic view.

We had pizza by candlelight that evening and explored a small Inca ruin the next morning where Yvette found a bit of peace at the end of the dock before we went back to the main land and watching the ramp up to the elections with a big political rally/party in the streets.

Copacabana is famous in Bolivia especially on Holy Friday of Semana Santa for cars and things being brought here to be blessed. One of the hills is called Little Calvary and has the stations of the cross on the ascent as well as a spectacular view from the top. People also ask Jesus and the Virgin for many things, I like the Spanish on this sign - "Welcome to the Sacred heart of Jesus where...[and here my Spanish becomes less literal] you can ask for objects you desire, cars, things, money, etc."

Pilgrims walk for 3 days from La Paz during Holy Week before Easter to this place, and we saw some of them on our early morning departure the next day.

... I am writing this now from the Lima Peru airport, and we are enroute to France!!(but the connection died and two weeks past and we are well into the soft life here in Toulouse)

Learning Spanish, and a week-end in the Cordillera de Los Andes mountains – by Yvette

Before describing recent peregrinations, I wanted to share some thoughts I wrote awhile back about learning another language. . . .

Humanity of words

To know another language is to have another soul. (Charlemagne)

Language captures our sameness, with “doing” words, and words that wait to be done to. And time—things we did before, are doing, will do.

On learning a new way to speak, I am a toddler again, my reality is present and selfish. I want, I eat, I go, I am. No nuance, no sense of bad words, ‘cuz they don’t sound bad to me. A blank slate.

And on a grander scale, languages map how we relate—organic growth of trunk, branch, twig, some words shared and others not, some polite here and there not—fed by colonial power, political manipulation, economic struggle, media battles, and then tangled by desire, beauty, experience.

And, here’s what we did a few week-ends ago, hiking around Sucre . . .

Got to the bus around 7:45am Saturday morning, was supposed to leave at 9:30am according to our book, but they said get there early because it fills up. We wanted to go to either Potolo or Maragua, then walk to the other. No buses to Maragua cause the road was bad, so signed up to go to Potolo. They told us right away that instead of the normal 2.5 hours, it would take ~5 because we’d have to wait for road construction. Yep, about 35 mins out of Sucre we stopped, waited from 10-12am when, right on schedule, they opened the gate and let what was now about 20 vehicles thru the construction area. Some of the worst road we’ve been on (I think the vehicles act as caterpillars to flatten bumpy parts post-construction), but beautiful views and our driver (as has been my feeling on almost all the vehicles we’ve been on here, in Syria and in Laos) was careful on the narrow roads with steep drops. SO . . . . got to Potolo around 2:30pm. Neil was very eager to ask around if they had some textiles as there are very distinctive textiles. The textiles are showcased in the museum here in Sucre at up to $500 (yes, US) for some items, very fine double-sided weaving. So we spent an hour being led to a couple of houses by a little boy, to no success (saw some weaving in-progress but only smaller items were available for sale), then hit the trail. We’d heard reports as varied as 2 hours to 7 hours between the towns, so knew we were pushing daylight. Kept getting varied reports on the trail, too (2 hours! Only 1! 3!) Of course compounded by both the fact that the trail was VERY easily lost (lots of goat / sheep trails, little creekbeds, etc.), and most people speak very little Spanish, mostly local Quechua. Anyway, several helpful people (we thought) pointed out the path at times, they were generally out there herding there sheep or working their fields of wheat, quinoa, corn.

Anyway, we walked pretty quickly until just after 7pm. The altitude is high, around 3700m, so on the uphill portions we were having to slow in order to breathe. Somewhere around here we realized we’d forgotten our flashlight. We were trying thru the afternoon to remember when the moon’s been rising recently. Anyway, as night was falling around 7pm we asked at a house we passed how many hours to Maragua and she quite clearly said 2-2.5, and that we should wait there at her house while she got her husband. Shortly her son and husband showed up, offered that we could eat there and then sleep nearby for a small price. While I (Yvette) was a bit disappointed not to get to the supposed showers and tourist cabanas, I agreed with Neil that it was the better part of wisdom. Really a very good choice, as we otherwise likely would’ve spent the night out (two Italian guys we met did). So, a hot “Wheat Soup” (I think just wheat flour thickened into a white sauce, seasoned a bit not sure with what, and potatoes chopped up in it, but warm, hearty and relatively flavorful) accompanied our cookies and apples we’d snacked on a bit earlier. Then, off to a little building they’ve built nearby to house tourists such as ourselves, where there were two mattresses we unrolled onto a stone floor, and 3 wool blankets (seemed relatively clean tho I found a flea on me in the morning, and little nibbles later—hmm). Was grateful for the clean smartwool socks and longjohns I’d brought along. I used some precious drinking water to wash my hands and brush my teeth. Then early in the morning back to their house for a breakfast of hot tea and toasted plain wheat from their field—eaten much like roasted soybeans. Flavorful but probably not a breakfast I’ll seek out. The dad was quite comfy with tourists, even speaks a couple of English phrases in addition to fairly simple Spanish ( better than ours, but not by a lot). We filled out his tourist registry (monitoring and evaluation officers be proud!!). Apparently he’s the “responsible man/authority” somehow for the village, including having the key to the cabanas. The reason they’re there, I think, is because about 25 meters away is a rock face that includes some dinosaur footprints. Also some better-known ones about 1 km away. So in the morning he took us to see both of those, then walked with us to where the path on to Maragua was quite discernable, and sent us on our way—all for $6.50 (we gave him $10). The most disappointing moment was when he asked us which direction we’d come from, from Potolo (“this side or that side?”) Apparently there are two routes from Potolo—the long one and the short one. We’d taken the long one, darn it.

Anyway, walked the trail from 7:45am-9:30am, arrived in Maragua and asked around for textiles and a restaurant to have an early lunch. The sole “tienda house” (“They have beer!” we were told) in town agreed to whip up some rice, potatoes and eggs for us. Yummy, hit the spot and we also drank 1 liter each (yes, really) of Fanta. Asked around for textiles but again, not much luck. We’ll have to get it here at the Museum in Sucre, which is still good for the artesans tho not quite as direct. Also met the nurse in the town of Maragua, a lovely and very helpful women named Carmen, I told her I was a nurse too, and she immediately asked for my contact info. Will be interesting to see if I hear from her. We talked re: obstetric emergencies and what backup she has, what the major problems are (beyond that one, upper respiratory illness and diarrhea for the kids). Very nice and responsible-seeming lady. Anyway, took off again around 11:30am and reached the next town where we hoped to get public transport around 2pm. Had to ford a hip-high, fast river that nearly knocked me over! Fortunately didn’t. Sat by the road for a whole 5 minutes before a car came along, agreed we could hop in the back for a ride to Sucre. A 1984 Datsun that had definitely seen better days. The road was REALLY bad in parts. We had to get out for certain parts to make the car ride higher. When it stalled, the car was kick-started, usually by rolling it in reverse on the steep parts. Also stopped at a creek to drain and refill the radiator to keep it from overheating. Rather vintage, but it got us here! And the driver was very courteous (and safe), he zoomed in front of a bus here in town, went half a block and let us jump out to catch a bus that brought us directly home.