Going from one country into another is always an exciting prospect. Though they are not always as dramatic as the San Diego - Tijuana crossing. In fact, looking around everything appeared exactly the same, and left me in the philosophic state of ponder: what is a border? There was an archway dividing the two countries and walking through it, I was meant to feel different and I did. And I can’t explain why.
The drive form the border to Copacabana was 12km along the worlds highest lake - Titicaca. ( I know, it makes me chuckle as well). It is a quaint, lakeside town and according to Raul, is the original Copacabana i.e, Brazil copied them.
After being in the country for only a minute or so, some guy got on our bus and told us we had to pay an entrance fee. To the town that is. Gina and I knew this was just some local guy chancing a number of unsuspecting tourists. Who ever heard of having to pay to get into a town?Where I would normally be outraged by such a stunt, I was more bemused by it, especially watching on as some tourists actually paid. Of course we didn’t..
But welcome to Bolivia in any case - Thank a lot Raul and Paola!!!!!!!
Other than Christmas, New Year’s and Easter, most countries probably have another couple of special national days. A stroke of luck meant we could enjoy the 2nd of February’s Fiesta de la Virgin de la Candelaria upon our arrival. Among heavy daytime drinking (the Bolivians love their beer - almost to the point of alcoholism - though granted I was there during the carnaval period) the festivities included a parade and a bullfight..
(Fiesta de la Candelaria Parade)
With a slight difference to the one I experienced in Seville. In that the matadors were drunk and the bulls were not killed in the end. Upon fetching a round of beer, I got within a few centimeters of an angry bull entering the ring. The safety precautions there are slightly more lax than the European counterpart. I thought I was a goner.
(Drunken Matador)
Bolivia, meant to be the among the cheapest places, didn’t quite kick ass comparing beer prices with say - Czech, but get this. A double room with a balcony including a view of the lake: £0.65 Wow!
We enjoyed the afternoon on one of the lakes islands Isla del Sol, said to be the birthplace of the Inca. I doubt Peru agrees with that.
(Isla del Sol and lake Titicaca)
Another interesting fact about South Americas largest lake. Bolivia has a navy. If that doesn’t surprise you, then I should add Bolivia is landlocked. The navy currently resides in the lake because they lost their coastline to Chile in the war of the Pacific. Maybe they held on to their navy optimistic about getting it back.
(The original Bolivia - when Raul and Paola could go to the beach)
After arguing with Raul on a number of occasions, I can now confess that at 3700m, La Paz is the world’s highest capital. (Bolivia has 2 capitals, the other being Sucre).Set in a spectacular valley, the aforementioned altitude is the bottom of the valley, so surrounded by a range of towering multi-coloured mountains, the center piece the snow covered volcano and at 6400m: Illimani.
Unlike most other South American capitals, La Paz (full name Nuestra Senora de La Paz - Our Lady of Peace) is not so sprawled out, and if you don’t mind puffing and panting up and down its hills, most places are within walking distances. It was great to see Raul and Paola again after 2 years. Somehow they both looked younger. Or more immature, I don’t know the difference.
(Raul and Paola)
Our timing in Bolivia was no accident. The very next day we took the 3 hour drive with Raul’s family and friends Armand and Paola, to a remote dirt town whose entire economy derives from one event. I am talking of Oruro and its annual Carnaval.
(Oruro Carnaval)
As I understand it, Carnaval, most famous for the one in Rio de Janeiro, is celebrated on the same day the continent over. Raul always maintained that Oruro was the best one. His counter argument to the Brazilian ones, was that they were now too tourist oriented. Oruro was the real thing. He wasn’t wrong.
(Oruro Gang)
The actual parade lasted almost 24 hours, though due to Armand’s incessant refueling of beer, I was only part of it for 6. I still can’t believe, that never was a group repeated in the whole procession. That meant there would have been tens of thousands of dancers and musicians. The whole thing was incredible. The music is still playing in my ear. The few seconds between the various passing groups allowed a quick water balloon war between opposing sides of the parade. Somehow I became the leader of my side and my arch enemy was Juan, a guy dressed in orange on the other side, which he was leading. When a group had just passed everybody threw their balloons, my side aiming for Juan, their’s for me. Eventually all but one balloon had been thrown: Juan’s side had one left and it was in his hand. The police guarding the parade were strict about not throwing balloons while the processions were passing. There was about 5 seconds for the last shot to be taken. I made a bluff. I closed my eyes and pointed in full view of both sides, for Juan to try and hit me in the face.He must have been 10m away. Although we had no ammunition left, this stunt meant we would win if Juan missed me. He didn’t. We lost and badly. He hit me smack bang in the center of the face. Even my own team was in hysterics. The sacrifices I make for my people hey! From Oruro we took a further three hour drive south through bright red rock mountains, and passing tornadoes on the way to Cochabamba. We were to stay with family and see among other things, its Christ statue, said to be higher than Rio’s, though this is yet to be confirmed.
(Cochabamba Christ)
Back in La Paz, Gina had to whizz around the sights as she had to go back to Colombia the next day. We visited the Alasitas a big fair which had something to do with your fortune. You can buy fake money: signifying a year without debt; fake food: a year without hunger; and fake diplomas: a year for studying etc. I bought some fake Bolivianos, but only for using as stakes in poker.
The one day in the year that the bus station closes is the day Gina needs to take a bus to Peru. Luckily there was a local bus going to the border town where 2 connecting buses would take her on to Cuzco to catch her flight. As I dropped her off in Peru, I decided to stay there for a few days and check out the condor valley, something I’d previously missed, before heading back to Bolivia.
On my way back, I stopped in a place one hour before La Paz to check out Bolivia’s prime site for Inca ruins: Tiwanaku. Every year they hold a solstice to rival Stonehenge.
Back in La Paz I set up a little system. Everyday Raul and Paola would go to work. 3 hours or more later one of them would ring the house and I would unsuccessfully try my best to not sound like I had just woken up. They always knew. Wake up you lazy arse was the reason for the call.
Next straight into the bedroom with the guitar under the pretense of learning new Beatle songs but actually tuning into the E- channel waiting for any glimpse of Paris Hilton. Lunch was at Paola’s grandmother including marraketas, bread so good it might supercede the quality previously only experienced in France. Then an episode of Seinfeld, followed by more hours of guitar practicing (Paris spotting).Maybe an hour at an internet cafe, and that was pretty much my day until they got home from work. Maybe they thought my day was boring and wanted to do more for me, but the truth be told, spending a year doing sightseeing, exploring and adventures, you’d be surprised how chilling and doing nothing can be treat. (Or am I justifying laziness and a short-lived TV addiction). Some days Paola’s sister Pamela would take show me around. She took me to the main square Plaza Murillo, where she reenacted a scene for me of how less than two years ago there was a civil war and battle between the military and the police, in which more than 60 people died, including civilians.
(Bullets holes in Plaza Murillo)
One day out of the blue, Armand (Raul’s friend), calls me up to invite me on a motorcycle tour to a canyon outside La Paz. I was close to pulling a sickie just so I could "Play my guitar". But thankfully I went along. As high an esteem I already had for the city, this little adventure heightened it to make La Paz of one my favourite cities. I saw things that no other tourist has. And the most amazing thing was its proximity to a sprawling multi-million populous. Within the space of ten minutes you are in the middle of a fumious traffic jam, the next, chased by rampant stray dogs biting your ankles with nothing man made in sight.
(Aramand on his bike in the Canyon)
After stopping at a mountain that resembled a tooth - El Molar del Diablo, we headed to a viewpoint of the Illimani. It was completely clouded over. So instead we headed to the base of the Grand Canyon, which we couldn’t cross because it had been raining and the trail had been washed away. Well, actually we did cross it.We went straight through the river on the bike, and after an hour we ended up stranded in the middle of this canyon, miles from any civilisation. The engine was flooded.
(Pushing the bike through the Canyon)
Of course there was no cellular signal, so we had to push the bike through the rocks, the mud and the river. Somehow Armand managed to get the thing started again and we safely made it to the other side. On the way back we passed the viewpoint again and this time we had a clear view. A perfect day, what an adventure.
(Clear view of Illimani)
I later learnt that the racing bike we were on was only a recently acquired hobby, and he’d never been through the canyon before. Information he only imparted with me after the trip!! On a world map, Bolivia may appear to be in the subtropics, but don’t be fooled into thinking La Paz has an according climate. What you need to take into account is altitude. Though Quito in Ecuador is on the equator, everybody wears a coat at night, every night of the year. Quito is high in the Andes at 3300m. La Paz is not different. Unless you live away from the Andes in Bolivia, your wardrobe will include as many coats and warm jumpers as T-shirts. 2 hours north of La Paz and you are in a place where peoples wardrobes do not include coats. Las Yungas. The road from La Paz to the Yungas starts with an ascent well into clouds at 4600. From there it goes all the way down to virtually sea-level. You can only imagine what kind of scenery this entails. The dramatic change of flaura, fauna, birdlife (condors one minute, parrots the next); the change of smell and colours; the waterfalls and the winding awesome mountains.
(The Death Road - The sheer drop)
This road has a name: The Death Road. So called because the trail at parts is not even fit for half a car and with sheer drops off the side of hundreds of meters. Absolute sudden death. Over 100 die on the road a year, and I invent this not when I say 2 died the day before we went and after we got back. We saw the remains of a bus on the way there, car on the way back. All the tourists do this road by bicycle and at the end get a T-Shirt saying: "I survived the death road", or something to that effect. I did this trip with Raul and his friends. Armand drove. Fast at times, and by fast I mean 20 miles an hour. In parts the drop was so sheer it made you wonder why a 1000 people don’t fall to their demise here per annum.
(Death Road Cyclist)
Raul got philosophical on me, pointing at a yellow dot in the distance (actually a massive HGV truck, yes, even trucks and buses ventures this path) and how with the towering mountain behind it, humans were insignificant. I told him to shut up. But he was right. You have to see this one day for yourself.
(Rauls yellow dot in the distance)
We were staying in a 5 star resort, some deal Armand picked up, costing us less than ten dollars each. This included luxury cabins, pool (where I came to realise that water volleyball is possibly the funnest thing on earth) and a breakfast buffet. One afternoon we went on a walk along the river and then they took me up this stream and under a bridge to look for gold. Yeah right guys, I did that too......WHEN I WAS 6. When the girls all fell asleep the boys stayed up to finish the beers and tell ghost stories. Apparently Bolivia is full of haunt.
In South America everybody is a nationalist. Raul is no exception. Mostly it is to the point where they are in denial to things which are not so positive about their country. Raul however, was quick to point out his countries problems. Bolivians complain too much according to him. And not quietly. When they feel they are wronged they stand up straight away and want the wrong righted......straight away! This impressed me. Mostly I was used to complaints taking a long time to process. Here it was imminent. But it slowed the country down, moreover it slowed Raul down. There were almost a few daily protest in and around La Paz, which meant various and changing streets would be closed, but this only meant taking alternative routes to get around, slowing you down some 10 to 20 minutes. Of course I wasn’t on my way to work or anything, so I didn’t mind. Everybody who visits Bolivia does the following:
1. A trip to the Salt Flats. A four day 4 wheel drive on a prehistoric dried up lake of salt supposed to give off magical reflections.
2. A visit to Potosi, the worlds highest town at over 4000m. There is a mountain of silver (or there was, as it had mostly been excavated by the Spanish, and was the reason why I, European Jerry was spending a year touring South America; and not South American Raul touring Europe for a year- I told you - they’re all Nationalists!!!!!!!!!)
3. Lake Titicaca
4. La Paz
5. Sucre: Colonial town housing today’s important governmental buildings and a nearby site of a dinosaur foot in a mountain.
The day after my trip to the Yungas I said goodbye to everybody in La Paz, including Raul even though he was meeting me in Santiago Chile in a week. I was taking the night bus to Potosi to check out the silver mines. Or was I. Allow me to correct my feelings towards the impulsive protesting Bolivian. I hate them. Raul was right, they are a nuisance. They had blocked every entry and exit to the city and later tuning in to the news, we learnt most Bolivian cities.
(Illimani from the city)
Raul had just quit his job so he could travel around Chile and Argentina with me next week and was having a farewell dinner with his work friends. Luckily it was in a delicious Argentinian restaurant, so when I rolled up much to Raul’s surprise, gate crashing his party, I could at least console into some delicious steak. I had just lost number 5 on the list. There would be no time for seeing a juicy dinosaurs foot.
The next day I went to the bus station to catch a new bus. Or was I. The strikes in Bolivia don’t last a day. They don’t last a week either. They last MORE. Slowly all my options were dropping like flies. Potosi, the second attraction on the list was gone. And before I knew it, the reason most people came to Bolivia - attraction 1: The salt flats was now also gone. I would be going straight to Chile from La Paz. In fact I was stuck in La Paz so long I missed the north of Chile as well. I was taking a bus with Raul straight to Santiago. I have to say, Raul and I were lucky even to get out when we did. The previous night they were showing violent protests getting out of hand on the evening news. On Sunday morning at 2am, us and a handful of other buses chanced a clandestine operation of sneaking past the blockades and out of the city. We were successful. It was surreal passing through yesterday’s violent scenes. We later realised, that the opening in which we slipped through was even more fortunate than we realised. The blockades lasted for the week I was there, and a number of weeks after, this time without the sneaky Sunday escape. Having a rendezvous with Mireya in Santiago I don’t know what we would have done otherwise. So, was I supposed to feel grateful?
(Finding gold by the River)
Bye the way, we did find gold under the bridge by the stream. How do you think I'm affording all these internet sessions?
Next up: Jerry, Raul and Mireya's adventures of Chile!!!
