First Impressions of Bolivia

---

I can see I'll need another trip to Bolivia sometime soon...It really is breathtaking, in more ways than one. Coming in across the scrubby Chaco, I ended up in Santa Cruz, where colorful, arcaded buildings lined shady squares and tamarind, orange, pineapple, and other juices were sold on every corner for 1 boliviano (80 cents US). It's a lively city with a tropical feel. The mini buses zoom around, jerking from one side of the road to the other to let people pile on with bags of vegetables or (like me) backpacks which, during rush hour, sort of get in the way of the door...oops. The upmarket boutique shops do contrast sharply with the women dressed in Andean style who cart their goods (and small children) wrapped in brightly woven blankets tied securely over their shoulders. Santa Cruz's Christmas decorations were lovely and modern, the churches were stylish and renovated (except for the main cathedral), and the stalls of the city's markets, stuffed full, seem to be an important part of the culture.

I only had one day in Santa Cruz, then on to La Paz, the highest capital city! I was lucky with the bus trip this time...A beautiful bus with plush, wide seats, no roaches, no breakdowns (except I think I heard some banging sounds during a midnight stop...I may have been dreaming, though...), and gorgeous scenery that I saw perfectly from my front-row seat. As we crossed the country, we climbed in altitude, hugging the curves through soft mountains and passing the simplest of villages. Some villages seemed to be constructed from mud, some had a line of latrines at the edge of the center, and in some villages, I didn't see a single sign of life except the dogs that piously guard their square of territory. Squat, sturdy rectangular buildings overlook the dropping hills with higher peaks in the background.

What a slow drive, though - decelerating constantly for road bumps, stopping for dozens of tolls. Something interesting about these toll booths is the way some rural Bolivians have ingeniously created a market out of the situation. As buses pull up to the toll, women in heavy sweaters with bright alpaca blankets wrapped around them grab their bundles to hawk bread and fruit to passengers through the window or, sometimes, by climbing aboard. Some entrepreneurs stayed on the bus for several kilometers, singing or advertising their miracle face creams. After the spiel and the money collection, they'd get off the bus in the middle of nowhere, presumably to wait for the next bus to come along, or maybe to walk back to the toll booths.

At one point, we crossed through a village and I saw a sign that read: Altura: 3,950 m. This is basically the altitude of La Paz, which sprawls across a canyon, covering every inch. It looks like a bowl of pasta, one that you could shake and send noodles flying because the bowl is so full. Red brick walls and tin roofs dominate the staggered city but, as you look closer, you can start to differentiate between the various neighborhoods. The city is enormous, truly. Every street is hilly, every street is busy. Here the mini buses also zip around, but there's a mix of all shapes and sizes, some that even look like USA school buses reduced to half size. On each bus is a young man hanging out the window and, in well-practiced staccato shouting, announcing the stops of that route.

There's a lot of movement here, a lot of color, a lot of everything....except air, it seems. I was fine with the altitude until I had to go up a steep hill with all my belongings. For a moment or two, I definitely felt some heart palpitations and shortness of breath! What a strange feeling if you have never felt it before. Overall, though, I have no problem, except a little unexpected breathlessness after going up the stairs. We've taken to drinking mate de coca, a tea made from coca leaves, which supposedly helps bodies cope with the effects of altitude. The flavors of Bolivia are great for me: more picante than in Argentina, tons of veggies used in the cooking, and all these tropical fruits surrounding me. I just wish the people would be as pleasing as the flavors. I have met some nice people (including a waiter who was an 'amigo de Che' - friends with Che Guevara, and had a newspaper article framed to prove it) but in general, the population is not smiling or friendly, almost stand-offish. It's difficult to adjust to that after the garrulous and fun-loving portenos and paraguayos who easily welcome strangers.

Well, I still haven't seen or done much in this country but this weekend and next week promise to bring some exciting adventures....

No pictures this time...I'd rather not explain.

---

Comments

[grands]

We would love to have at least some of your experience. Afraid to ask what happened to the camera.