Published: July 21st 2012July 21st 2012
Famished and hangry (irritable mood bought on by being hungry) we arrived in Sucre after an extremely hairy flight and no breakfast as left too early for the hotel breaky. The pilot used every inch of the runway and everyone clapped upon landing. Freddy explained it is the most dangerous airport in South America due to the surrounding mountains. I felt better during the bus ride into the city as I became excited to explore Bolivia's official capital city. The crime rate here is low and despite being the capital it is still only a small city. Immediately the difference between here and La Paz was obvious; there was no one hassling you on the street, everyone was polite, all the buildings in thr city centre were fancy and spanish colonial style, and it was clean. The pristine white monastery exceeded my expectations and we spent some time on the roof overlooking the city with green rolling mountains in the background. Dad and I hiked up to Recoleta which is an upper class suburb set up high on a hill that overlooks the city. All the guys up there selling jewellery stunk of weed... But I loved a certain necklace that much so bought it anyway. We enjoyed a banana, egg white, maca, granola and coffee vitamin smoothie at the alfresco restaurant with a stunning view. There were plenty of tourists here enjoying cocktails and reading in the deck chairs. We then explored the city walking nearly 9km and stumbling across the local market, many parks with people riding quad bikes, the local school, and Sucre's own chocolate shop. We had booked an all day hike for the next day by ourselves so decided tp treat ourselves to a satisfying dinner. After being seated at El Huerto, the nicest restaurant in Sucre (which is still only $7-8 per meal for us) I decided I was going to put all my health antics aside for the night and try a traditional Bolivian dish. The waiter didn't speak English so the friendly chef came out to help me choose (I still specified no potato, corn or rice though). We settled on a dish called Mongdola which is eaten once a year on November 1st to remember loved ones who had passed. I thought this was relevant as in a few days it is one year since granddad passed and he loved pork. The dish consisted of pork ribs, a red spicy sauce and was meant to come with rustic potatoes and corn but he kindly swapped these for broccoli and cauliflower. I had never had pork ribs before and I think this dish may have converted me into a full blown carnivore! As I usually only eat fish. It wasn't fun sorting all the meat from the fat though and it got quite messy. Dad thoroughly enjoyed watching me give up with the knife and fork, resorting to eating it off the bone with my hands and discreetly spitting out the fat. I detoxed the next day on just fruit, veg and eggs, but it was well worth it.