As I arrived back in La Paz I once again had that feeling that I was ready to move on and get to know some new places. By this stage I'd also written a bunch of songs and I was itching to find a space to do some recording. Upon arrival we spent one more night in La Paz, during which time I decided on Cochabamba as being and ideal place to go to next. I didn't really know much at all about it, apart form the fact that it was a university city, and was supposedly a wee bit more dangerous than other places. Mark also decided to come to the same place, so I once again had a travel companion to make the journey with. As I left La Paz I still didn't really know how I would approach getting to know this country. It's actually quite a big place, and there are many options you can choose from which to make your itinerary. Originally I thought I mite head east to the biggest city of the country, Santa Cruz, then spend some time getting to know some of the smaller surrounding small towns. But as I was reading Marks guide book on the bus I decided that the south offered more interesting looking places to get to know, so I decided that after Cochabamba I'd jump on another bus headin' south. I really had no idea how long I'd spend in this place, it really depended on whether or not I found a place a suitable space for recording.
As we got off the bus in Cochabamba the two most obvious changes were the nice spring climate, and also the noticeably flat landscape. When we were collecting our bags there were young men offering their services as baggage carriers. As I kindly turned down their offer, they noticed my beard. It's very uncommon to see Bolivians with beards, they thought it was quite a novelty, first giving me the nick name of Osama, but then they must have decided that my skin tone was a wee bit light, so they then changed it to Jesus (In spanish this is spelt the same, but the 'J' is pronounced like a soft 'H' sound, so they were standing there going "hey hesus," then bursting out in laughter with each other.) After taking a taxi to our hostel we were free to explore around the city centre for a while. The main plaza was once again very impressive, and I was happy to find a good cafe, which sold good coffee, a rare thing to find in South America. We'd arrived on a Thursday so that night we decided to go and check out the night life.
Walking down the busy night streets revealed that this place really wasn't a popular tourist destination. It only took a brief walk away from the main plaza to find ourselves on a busy main avenue full of locals. In most popular tourist spots it's very common to see police wondering around, but here there were none to be seen anywhere. Despite all this I never really felt as if I was in danger. I did feel I should be a wee bit more cautious, but it never really went beyond that. Eventually we found the strip with all the bars on it and settled into one that seemed to be the place where all the local students hung out. While sitting there and having a couple of beers I was brought back to all my memories of home. All the music they played was a selection of songs that I used to enjoy back in my study days at home. It was quite crazy that they seemed to play many of the songs that were associated with experiences from that time. After that we sampled a few more bars, but eventually decided that we'd seen enough, and bed was best option.
The following day Mark made his way down south to do the salt flat tour, and I decided to comb the central city for a good recording spot. Everywhere I looked was either to expensive, or the location was way to noisy to even think about recording. I decided that maybe this wasn't the place after all, so I decided that I'd move onto the next place. In the end I didn't really get to know Cochabamba very well. I'd been told that there were some nice places to visit close to the city, but I'd made up my mind to move, so the only thing now was to decide where I'd go. When I looked on the map I noticed Oruro. This place looked a wee bit smaller than some of the other cities, so I decided that it mite serve as a good destination for finding a recording space. There was also a train service that ran from Oruro, which covered some of the other towns of the south. After spending all these hours on buses so for on this trip I decided that train would serve as a nice change as a different means of travel.
After a short four hour bus ride (four hours in a bus seems like what a ten minute ride was back at home now after countless eight hour + trips,) we approached the first signs of a town. My first impressions of Oruro weren't all that great at all. As we met the town I was greeted with an endless view of plastic bags & bottles. I thought that maybe these may subside once we reached the bus terminal, but the rubbish was just the same, just scattered all over the streets. When I got to my hostel I decided to have a look around the town centre, trying to stay open that this place really does have something to offer me. (During carnival in February Oruro becomes the spotlight of Bolivia, with one of the biggest celebrations in South America taking place, and by for the biggest in Bolivia. Outside of that time things remain very much more low key.) When I got to the plaza I must say that it was very clean and pristine, unlike the outskirts. As I wondered around I found literally a whole street of lawyer offices, strangely many of which were very busy, I wondered to myself why in a small place lawyers could be in such demand. I also realised that the only two options I had here for food were fried chicken n' chips, or pizza (I thought before this trip that pizza would be one thing that I'd miss from home, but not so. In Peru and Bolivia I swear there must be almost one Pizza restaurant between every four people!) I tried my best to once again find a recording space here, and I was able to get a wee bit done this time, but the rooms either reminded me of prison cells or LA junkie apartments so after three days I'd had enough and I decided that it was once again time to seek out a new destination. After having a conversation with a local man I was recommended Potosi as being an ideal next destination, so I checked out of my hostel and set off for the new destination. I decided that I'd have a go at walking to the bus terminal this time. Carrying all my gear really makes things seem a lot further than what they are, especially when you get a wee bit lost and walk a few blocks further than what was necessary.
At 4060 meters, Potosi is the highest city in the world. As I arrived I wasn't to affect by the altitude, but my body did feel it again though as I had to adjust the hilly streets again after my previous two places. The first hostel I went to way overpriced, so they recommended me another one within my price range across the road. It was late in the day so I just decided to check straight in. Once again I'd hit bad luck when it came to my hostels. The floors were so loose that every slight movement would let out a loud screech from the floor boards. The room was tiny and the way the walls were decorated made me feel like I was a new born baby again, with colours of light blue and pink delicately patterned around the walls. After all these rooms I kept striking I thought that maybe now I'd been cursed when it came to finding good hostels, so I decided to take another approach, the good old internet. I went straight to google and typed in "recommended hostels in Potosi." After a quick surf around I found one place in particular that constantly received good reviews called "La Casona." The following day I checked out and made my way to this place in hope that I'd find somewhere a bit better than the last few places I'd found.
The hostel ended up being just what I wanted. I decided to pay a wee bit extra and get my own room to make the recording a wee bit easier. Now that I'd found a place to settle down for a wee while I was free to explore the city for a wee bit. I really liked Potosi straight away. It was small enough to really retain a lot of character, but at the same time it had enough people to retain a real lively energy as well. The main attraction here was the mine tours, which take you on a close up experience into the mines of the mountain that overlooks Potosi, the Cerro Rico. What I found most interesting about the city was it's fascinating history.
The city was founded in 1545 after ore deposits were discovered in the mountain. By the end of the 18th century it had grown to become the largest and wealthiest city in South America (At one stage it was also bigger than both London and Paris also!) It was of course the Spanish who controlled at this time, which meant that much of this wealth ended up benefitting the Spanish economy. It is said that millions of African slaves were imported to work in these mines in shocking conditions which lead to many deaths. To this day the mountain has allegedly taken the lives of over eight million people since the mines began operating. For this reason the other name given to the mountain is "The Mountain That Eats Men." For centuries Potosi was the main centre from which silver coins were first produced, then from there distributed around. The site where the coins were produced is now a museum where you can go and see the original machines that were used. Now days all the mines are depleted of silver, but there still remain hundreds of mines from which they extract other minerals. I'd heard that the tours were an equally intriguing and shocking looking look at the conditions that people continue to work in to this day. The hostel that I was staying in ran their own tours so I decided after a couple of days that it was time to give it a go a check it out for myself.
At about 9am the following morning we were all kitted out with our mining gear before jumping into a van to head to the miners market. As we all pilled into the van the guide had this grin on his face. In his basic English he looked at us all and said "today is very special day, all guys, not girls!" For a start I didn't know exactly what he meant, but i figured maybe it was a good thing. As we got out of the van in the miners market, the guide explained that it was here that we buy the miners gifts. The way that these tours work, in exchange for allowing the tourists down into their working environment and taking photos, asking questions etc., we give them gifts which they can put to practical use during the day. The main options that we were given to buy them were Coca leaves, cigarettes, orange juice, dynamite, or a potent little bottle of 97% alcohol (Coca is that plant from which Cocaine is made. A huge part of the culture in both Peru and Bolivia is the chewing of the leaves. This gives an effect nothing like that of Cocaine, but the locals do strongly believe that it helps with altitude sickness, and also helps to suppress appetite and give a bit more energy. For this reason it is of huge importance for the mine workers that they frequently chew the leaves, as they often work for hours on end without eating.) At the first market I brought some coca leaves, some orange juice, and a bottle of alcohol, all for a hefty $5. After that it was time to head off to another market where we were to buy our dynamite.
The shop from where we were going to buy the dynamite was small and poky, the man behind the counter had the nick name "Osama." I didn't know if this was because of the fact that he was one of the only Bolivian man I'd seen with a beard, or if it was because he sold the complete starter kit for dynamite, (maybe it was because of a combination of the two!) In this shop our guide explained the whole process of how the dynamite was used, and also the necessity of each three elements, the detonator, the nitrate, and of course the dynamite itself. After the explanation we each bought some to take as gifts, then threw them into our backpacks. It fascinated me to know that anyone can come in here and buy as much dynamite as they want. There are no restrictions what so ever on age, or the amount that you can buy. It also slightly concerned me that we were throwing all three elements in the same backpack together, but I figured they'd done this enough times before....they must know what they're doing...
After another brief ride in the van we'd arrived at the mine. The first stage of the tour involved going into a room and sitting down with a couple of the miners who were currently in a break from their work. A couple of guys were preparing dynamite, whilst the other two were stuffing their mouth with as much coca as they could before their next shift. (The way to eat Coca leaves properly is to put one leaf at a time into your mouth, chewing a little, then storing it in the side of the mouth. As you eat more you slowly accumulate a ball of Coca in one side of your mouth. Many of the guys you see look like they have a golf ball in their mouth.) This was our first opportunity to ask questions to the miners. I didn't really have much to ask at this stage, but one of the younger miners was very interested in our lives. He asked me what I did and when I said I was a musician they all said, "ok you have to sing a song for us!" I'd told them that I studied jazz but the only jazz song I knew the lyrics for was Summertime, so I sang the first verse for them, slightly bullshitting my way through, trying to make it sound a wee bit jazzy. They all clapped, it ended up being a good way to lighten up the room a little. It was also in this room that we learnt the proper way of drinking here. Drinking is a huge part of the social culture for the miners. As we were sitting there one of them opened a small bottle of spirits. It wasn't the 97% that we'd bought, but with around 47% it still gave a bit of a kick. We were informed that you must always hold the drink with your right hand, and before your first drink you must always spill a wee bit on the ground as an offering to Pacha Mama. (Pacha Mama is their expression for mother earth. It's made of both Quechua and Spanish, Pacha meaning "earth" in Quechan and Mama meaning "mother" in spanish.) Showing gratitude and acknowledgment to friends is also a very important part of the drinking ceremony. After our first we experience of the miners life it was time to finally make our way into the mine. "Vamos!" said our guide, as we followed him into the black hole.
Our first stop off in the mine was to visit the "tio." (Many of the people here are very religious, following the Catholic religion. However to this day the miners still firmly believe that as soon as you go into the mine, you're entering the territory of the devil. Therefore, every single mine has a devil like figure which they call Tio. It is of vital importance that you frequently come and give offerings of Coca leaves, alcohol, and cigarettes, whilst saying a prayer asking for pure minerals and safety of you and your friends while you are down in his world. They believe that people loose their lives in these mines as a consequence of not showing the Tio enough respect.) Our guide went over a demonstration of how to make the offering, and how to say the prayer. He said that we may make the prayer in any language because the Tio can understand all. After the offerings were made we carried on heading deeper into the mine, wondering where exactly this guide was taking us.
As we made our way further I couldn't help but be completely fascinated about where I was. The channels were very narrow with gas pipes draping down from the low ceiling. Occasionally we'd pass under a wooden bracket which barely looked like it was holding much in place. Every now and again we'd hear our guide yell at us to hurry up and find a clearing on the side. As we stood there and waited, the faint roaring sound would get louder, until three guys would come running past as fast as they could, pushing a massive cart. Those whom were entering back into the mine would be pushing empty ones, and we'd also come across the same guys returning with a full load. As we spoke to one of the groups that pushed these things (one boy was only fifteen!) we were informed that they push ten of these out a day, after pushing them all the way back into the mine, they would be filled with rocks and minerals. When they were completely full the carts then weighed a staggering ton. Between the three of them they'd then push it all the way back out again. This was my first insight into the hardship of this way of life. After seeing this you can't possibly complain about the "lack of opportunity" in your own life.
It wasn't long before we were climbing up dodgy ledges, and crawling through narrow shoots. At some stages our guide would say to us, "ok for this bit you need to be spiderman." There were no safety regulations what so ever, but that was defiantly part of what made the experience so raw and real. After we'd climbed up a wee way, we came to a narrow passage where a few of the miners were working. The guide told us to wait, and a few minutes later they took a break from their work and came down to talk to us for a wee while. We were all crammed into this little space and before I knew it, the little air that there actually was, was replaced by cigarette smoke. It was at this stage that things really started to become interesting, "who has some alcohol to give the miners?" asked the guide. I said that I had some, so I reached into my bag, grabbed it, then handed it over to one of the grateful miners. Without hesitating he opened it, poured a wee bit into the cap, then started handing it around. At first I though that this was just a kind gesture that they do just the once, but it didn't end there. Once one person had poured and handed to everyone, the next person to the right became the pourer, and the process would repeat itself. About an hour or so later we really started to feel the effects of the alcohol, it was here that I realised why the guide was so excited about a group of all guys. I did my best to converse with them and managed to find out some basic information, but it was difficult to understand them at times because of their mouth full of coca. After what seemed like an eternity, we were finally off to our next section of the tour.
I thought that much of this tour would have been exploring down to the deep and scary depths of the mine, but so far it had been just going up a level or two and getting pissed. Just when I thought that we had just gotten as irresponsible as possible without hurting ourselves, we got to the next phase of the tour, playing with dynamite. The guide lead us down a few more channels until we reached another worker who was preparing some dynamite. The guide said that in a couple of minutes we were going to follow him a wee bit deeper into the mine to feel the power of the dynamite. Once the guy was finished we followed him to a very narrow shoot, barely big enough to crawl down. We waited as he disappeared and waited for his return. About two minutes later he was hurrying back, telling us to hurry up at get out of here. We walked briskly for about one hundred metres and waited to hear the explosion. The only sort of explosions I'd really heard up until this point were guns and fire works, so I didn't really know what to expect. I had my hands over my ears, but that couldn't really prepare me for what went off. The explosion went by very quickly, but the force of it almost made my heart leap out of my chest. I'd never felt anything like it before. As I looked up the mine worker and our guide were both laughing at our unexpected reactions. Just as I thought that was the last of our experiences playing with dynamite, our guide looked at us and said, "ok guys lets go and let off a little bit more, this time we'll get photos."
We started walking in the direction of the exit, but then veered off somewhere else which was destined to be our next dynamite playground. "Who still has dynamite left," said the guide. I once again put my name forward, grabbing it out of my bag and handing it over. Normally they break the stick up into thirds to use for three different explosions, but when he was snapping it he accidently broke off a piece significantly bigger than one third. Instead of going for the smaller piece I suppose he thought it would be a bit more fun with a slightly bigger explosion. He then attached a detonator, the nitrate, and a fuse and said, "ok, this fuse is going to take five minutes to burn out, that gives us two minutes after we light it to take photos, then three minutes to get out of here." We all looked at each other in disbelief as to why we were even still standing here. We all gave him our cameras, then after lighting the fuse and us standing there posing as it quickly burnt down, he franticly rushed through all the cameras to get a photo for each of us (there were five of us.) When he got to mine it had put itself onto standby. I tried to explain to him that you need to press the power button again, but after to much mucking around he had to bypass it and move on to the others. When he finally took the last one we got rid of the dynamite and rushed to get out of there as quickly as we could. It didn't even seem like we'd gone that far before the guide said, "ok here should be a good place to listen from." Even though I already kind of knew what to expect from the previous one, it didn't stop me from having a similar reaction again. After the fun of the dynamite, and still very much feeling the effects of the alcohol the we'd drunk earlier, we were all well and truly ready to call it a day, well at least a morning.
As we all got out of the mine we all looked at each other as if to say, "well, I wasn't quite expecting that. But it seemed that the guide was satisfied with leaving it at that. We all jumped back into the van and we were then taken to a "miners bar." It wasn't exactly what I'd call a bar. All it was, was a window which served drinks out of it. From there we proceeded to drink beers and talk shit in true male bantering fashion. Before we knew it we'd gotten to 11.30am and it felt like we'd been drinking since the night before. When we returned back to the hostel I didn't quite know whether to recommend it to people or to caution them. When people asked me about it I'd start by saying, "well..... it really depends what you're looking for.."
After experiencing the main attraction of Potosi I still felt like I wanted to stick around for a while longer. I was getting a wee bit of recording, although not as much as I'd hoped. I was in a good hostel now, but the downside to that was that it was very easy to get distracted. One day a couple of friends and I decided to climb up the mountain which ended up being a great trip, and yet another insight into the way of life around the mines. The other thing that happened to co inside with my stay was the annual fiesta of Potosi. I'd spoken to many locals earlier about the fiesta and many talked it up, saying it's one of the great parties of bolivia. After my drunken introduction to the small rural town of Sorata I was curious to see how a bigger city celebrates. From what I gathered this was more about displaying the culture of Potosi and the surrounding communities. It was scheduled to take up the whole weekend, but as I'd decided to leave on Sunday I decided to check it out on the Saturday.
The scene was completely different to that which I experienced in Sorata. As I made my way down to where it was being held I realised that this was much more organised event, and was less about drinking, and more about cultural celebration. They'd closed off one of the streets for the weekend, and all day there was a parade displaying the individual culture of each community. Every two or three groups had a brass band playing the traditional music, while everyone around them was dressed up in bright and bold outfits doing the traditional dance of their region. It was a very cool sight and it was great to see some true cultural celebration, even though I did enjoy the drunken overindulgent partying of some of the previous fiestas I'd been involved in, even if it was as a spectator at times.
By the following Sunday I'd spent a week in Potosi and my itchy feet were calling me to move to my next destination. The next place on the horizon was Sucre. I'd heard many great things about this place, it had the reputation as being one of the most beautiful cities in Bolivia. Once again I was going here with the intention of getting more of my recording done, and also make use of whatever other opportunities came up, hoping that this time I won't get quite as distracted from the actual recording.
Rock formations on The Carretera
Monday, November 1, 2010
Learning How To Party - Getting To Know Rural Bolivia
After the anti climax of my first attempt to get to know Bolivia I decided to take a slightly different approach to things. I'd been in La Paz for a few days since arriving back from Wuayna Potosi, but most of that time was spent writing my blogs on Peru. With them out of the way I was defiantly looking around for a change of scenery. I'd read about a place in the mountains called Sorata, which sounded like the perfect place to go and relax for a few days to get over the disappointment of my last adventure. Gareth had made his way to Santiago by this stage so I was now travelling alone again for the first time in a few months. One of the things that really appealed to me about Sorata was a camping ground that it had. With the addition of a tent to all my things I'd been looking for opportunities to use it whenever I could. This place was about a three hour ride north of La Paz, back in the direction of Lake Titikaka. It required a ride in a collectivo, which are never rides that I look forward to. They are a cheap way to travel, but most of the time you have to wait around much longer than what they tell you, as they try and fill it up to its fullest possible capacity insisting not to miss out on any potential boliviano.
The ride was very scenic, it also felt slightly unusual travelling by myself again. It hadn't been since my horror ride to Yurimaguas that I'd been on a bus by myself. This time I was packed into a van with local people, most of whom were the traditionally dressed Bolivian women known as "Cholitas." Their most distinctive feature is their two long plats that run all the way down their back. They all wear a long skirt which varies in colour from green, blue, or even purple. I never knew for sure, but I had a feeling that their colour corresponded with their family. On top they seemed to wear many layers, despite the substantial heat at times. The final layer was always a thick woollen jersey, or a cardigan of some sort. Then at times over top of the whole outfit they'd wear a blue apron. The final necessity to the outfit was the tall hat which sits on the very top of their heads, which would be held in place by a piece of elastic which ran around their jaw. I always found it interesting that both here, and in Peru, the hats would change according to the region they were from. Sometimes they would be similar to a black top hat, other times they were flatter with a wider brim, I even saw one region where they were white with all sorts of floral designs all over them. The other thing that amazed me about these women was the way they carried things around. They all owned a huge sling style of bag which often looked liked it weighed more than they did. They were all made out of colourful fabric which they would throw onto their backs, then tie both ends together at their neck. Sometimes they would be carrying a child on their back, whilst carrying another huge load in their arms.
The ride seemed to pass by pretty quickly, and before I knew it I was staring across the other side of the valley to Sorata. I was right in the middle of the mountains, by now it was getting dark, so most of the view was just a small cluster of lights. One thing that I didn't realise when I decided to come to this place, was that at this time they were in the middle of celebrating their annual fiesta. I'd been to a couple of fiestas in Peru so I thought I had a pretty good idea on what this one would be like also, but as we pulled up I quickly realised that this was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
As we edged our way into the outskirts of the town, the driver stopped the van and said, "ok guys we have to stop here, we can't go any further because of the fiesta." I realised then that this was probably a wee bit bigger than the others I'd experienced, but I was worried that this mite mean I would have to pay three times more that usual for a room. As I walked towards the main plaza there were cars parked in every space available. The closer I got, the louder the noise got. It quickly became apparent that this was something that literally this whole town celebrates. When I arrived at the plaza, the heart of the party, I was faced with a scene unlike anything I've ever seen. It was about 6pm, and everyone in my line of site was so drunk that they would have put any proud university student of New Zealand to shame. From where I was standing I could see numerous people just taking a piss from where they were standing. This wouldn't be a huge deal if it was just men, but it wasn't... whenever any of the women felt nature calling they would barely take two steps before squatting down and creating their own Lake Titikaka on the edge of the road, sometimes they would even carry on their conversation whilst doing so. Other people were already at the point where it was to much effort to stand so they would be sitting on a seat, drinking half of their beer, and spilling the other half all over the ground. I had only arrived at the edge of the party. As I looked into the plaza I saw an impressive stage with a live band. The whole street was literally packed with people enjoying themselves, passing around beers and doing some very interesting dance moves. After getting over the initial surprise of what I had just witnessed, I quickly moved my priority to finding a hostel to dump all my gear at. The first side street I walked down must have been the allocated urinal street for the night. It smelt worse than an unkept porter loo, and I had to watch my feet as I struggled to find dry patches on the road. I'd come to this place with the intention to find some peace and tranquillity for a wee while, but my first impression was on anything but that.
After about fifteen minutes of searching around I finally found a place that had a room available for a price I was willing to pay. At the hostel I met an Austrian guy who was happy to finally see another foreigner. We decided that we would go up and join in with the fiesta for ourselves. As we walked around we met another guy, a Londoner whom I'd gotten to know when I was in La Paz, Dave. With the three of us we had a perfect group to take on the party for ourselves. The people here were very friendly and welcoming of us into participating in their celebrations. After sitting down and having a couple of drinks, we decided that we'd have a wee go at dancing for ourselves. It seemed everyone was to drunk to realise there were a few gringos on the dance floor, those who did notice would often insist on telling us something in drunken spanish gibberish. Although I kept telling them I didn't understand anything they kept trying to maintain some sort of conversation. Bolivian people in general are very shy, so it was interesting to see everyone come out of their shells a wee bit more, and I noticed that in general they were very friendly when they did. I decided that I would call it a night around midnight and go to bed. I was looking forward to tomorrow, I would finally able to pitch my tent and enjoy and bit of time to myself in some quiet surroundings.
The following day I checked out of my hostel and made my way down to the campsite. Sorata was situated on top of a hill, and in order to get there I had to drop down a few dodgy tracks, then into a valley. After asking a local which way it was, he pointed me in the direction of a basic looking track, saying that it was about ten minutes away until I'd reach the camp site. I took off glad that it was only ten minutes that I'd have to carry all this gear for. At first the track was clear, but then after a couple of minutes it started to tapper off a wee bit. Before I knew it I was following what looked like a sheep track. I was still adamant that I was on the right track until I reached a barbed wire fence. I'd walked down so far with this heavy load by now that I really didn't want to turn back. After a wee bit of contemplation I decided that I'd have a go at getting over it. It ended up being a lot more of a struggle than I thought it would be. With a 25kg pack on my back, a 10kg bag on my front, and a guitar in my left hand, I was finally able to battle my way over, but not without catching my tent on the fence and putting a rip in the end of what was a water proof bag, then loosing my centre of gravity a few times, grabbing onto any piece of tussock that I could find to hold my weight. By this stage I was sure that I'd gone slightly off track, but I assured myself by thinking that surely it couldn't be to far from here. After about a half hour battle I was finally able to make it to the camp ground, but not without having to cross another barbed wire fence, walking through a swamp, then climbing this ridiculously steep hill. When the lady behind the counter saw me covered in sweat collapsed out on the bench she gave me a slightly puzzled look. I told her the trouble that I'd been through she laughed and said, "oh noo you missed it, the path is that one over there (pointing towards the hill at a very obvious looking track,) it's a wee bit steep, but it only really takes ten minutes to get down." When she showed me I realised that I'd been shown the completely wrong track from the start!
The place that I camped was called Altai Oasis. It was bought by a couple thirty years ago and over that time they worked on the land themselves and turned into a real paradise for anyone who wants to get away and relax for a while. The camping area was right down the bottom, tucked away by the river. There were no other campers at the time I was there, so I ended up getting the whole space to myself which was great. The camp area also had a huge BBQ, and a great set up for a camp fire. But as I wasn't sharing the area with anyone I never really made use of those facilities. On the second day I arranged to go with David for a day walk down to check out a bat cave by a small town called San Pedro. It was a popular day walk, said to have very spectacular valley views, and the cave was meant to be pretty impressive also. I hadn't seen much outside the town at this stage so I was curious as to what was offer. It was about a two and a half hour walk each way so we packed a lunch and set off the following day to check it out.
We just so happened to strike a perfect day. There were only a couple of clouds in the sky, as we walked out of the town we were able to look back and see the 6000m mountains which dwarfed Sorata. The road followed across the top of one of the valleys which passed around the outside of the town. As we got further along, the scenery of the valley constantly evolved. Sometimes it would be dry, barren shingle cliffs, then it would move to shades of red and orange, before becoming scattered with green vegetation. We arrived at the cave pretty much right on two and a half hours. It only had one tiny shop so I took the chance to boost my energy with a coke before carrying on to the cave. (After my time travelling so far I've come to the conclusion that Coca Cola is probably the one product that you can literally buy in all corners of the world!)
I had no idea what to expect with the cave, the main reason I'd done this was for the walk itself, so the cave was just a bit of a bonus for me. The entrance was not much higher than my head, and through the early stage we had to duck our heads every now and again. After a couple of minutes it opened out to this gigantic underworld. The way was consistently lit with light bulbs about every ten metres so we could see our way. I felt like I was Bruce Wayne, going down to take my batmobile for a spin. Just when I thought I'd seen the best of it, I noticed we were approaching some water. At first it just looked like a small puddle of water, but when we got closer I realised that it was infact a lake which now took up the entire bottom surface of the cave. At this point we were given two options. We could either take the path that went up along the top, or we could pay 5 bolivianos and take a paddle boat down the lake. I didn't have to think twice before paying the guy the money, then jumping on the boat. It was a nice change of scenery from mountains, but after half an hour we'd seen it all, and had to consider making our way back before it got to late. As we walked back I decided that the following day would be good to return back to La Paz. Two days seemed enough, and I'd now decided where I wanted to go next.
As soon as we returned back to the camp site our first priority was to get something to eat. There was an overpriced restaurant there which I was reluctant to eat at, but I was so hungry that I decided to make a compromise by ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. (It wasn't actually that expensive, but after being in Bolivia for a while, spending more than $5NZ on a meal seemed a bit steep. If you really want to you can find a good meal for around $2.) After satisfying my hunger Dave went back to his hostel and I sat there wondering what time I was going to leave the following day. It was at this point that I met Mark, a South African who lived in London. After meeting and talking a bit of rugby banter we quickly became good mates. He asked if I wanted to join in on a day walk tomorrow. I didn't have any plans set in stone and I figured that one more day wouldn't hurt so I gladly agreed to come along. The following day we went along to the tourist office. It turned out that they didn't have any good one day options. They only spoke spanish so I was doing the translating for Mark. He asked me to ask what they recommend as being the best walk. When I asked, he explained a four day walk which covered a range of scenery and climbed up to just over 5000 meters on the third day to visit a glacial lake. When I explained this to Mark he was automatically sold on that option. As we walked out I thought about what it would be like to participate on the hike. It wasn't long before deciding to join in on the team. I also remembered that Dave was here to do hiking as well. By mid afternoon we had a team of three, all set to leave the next day. That evening we also had a fourth member to our team, Stephany, a Belgium girl who Dave knew. That night I found it funny that I came here to just do a couple of days camping, and now I was about to take off on four day trek around the surrounding mountains. Even though I hadn't originally intended on doing this, I'd heard that this area was one of the best in Bolivia for hiking, so I was excited about seeing what the scenery had to offer.
The following day began with an early start. After being picked up from our hostel we were taken to the outskirts of the town, where we loaded up the mules with our gear. Our guide was called Felix. He was in his late twenties. His father, who looked after the mules also came. Felix said he was in his mid sixties, but he looked like he was at least in his seventies. It didn't take long before we were all loaded up and ready to go. The first day started with a simple leisurely walk along the road. It was set to be relatively easy, with some steady climbing, arriving at our first camp around 15.30 or so. The unfortunate thing about the trip was the haze that seemed to taint the view throughout the whole trip. I asked the guide about it and he said that it was due to a scrub fire in Santa Cruz. (If you look on the map you'll see that Santa Cruz is on the other side of the country, it must have been a big fire!) After a few hours of slow climbing we got to our lunch spot, a small clearing with a great view clearly showing where we'd come from. Throughout the four days our lunch consisted of Sandwiches with tuna, cucumber, tomato, and mayonnaise. The simple lunches were actually a nice change from the typical almuerzo (lunch) of rice, chips, chicken/beef, and salad. After lunch it was only about another three hour hike before we'd arrived at our camp site for the first day. The scenery reminded me of certain places back at home. This was the dry season which gave the rolling hills a brown tinge, the only green that remained were the pockets of trees scattered around the place. As soon as the sun dropped in got very cold, very quickly, so virtually straight after dinner we made our way to our tents to warm up a little. This meant an early night, but not necessarily to much sleep.
Felix had told us that the second day was one of the easiest. Most of the day was to be spent crossing around the side of the valley. The only climb was to be at the end of the day, where we had to climb up to the first glacial lake to spend our second night. During the early stages of the second day, the main topic of conservation was how unexpectedly cold it got the previous night. Apart from Colca Canyon I'd never really come across to much cold whether, so this was defiantly a wee bit of a shock to the system for me as well. The scenery on the second day slowly changed as we edged our way around the side of the valley. The vegetation became more sparse, and the brown countryside eventually gave way to impressive rocky landscapes. The day ended with one final push before we reached our spot to set up camp for the second night. It was right beside the first of the glacial lakes that we were to visit. Steph managed to convince the guide to let us swim in the lake. I wasn't to keen and told everyone else to go for it, but it got to the point where everyone else had braved the cold to jump in, so in order to keep my ego intact I decided that I would give it a go also. After the campsite was set up we all took the opportunity to restore the bodies for tomorrow. Not only was tomorrow an early start, but it was also set to be our most difficult day. The combination of the steep climbing and the altitutde was bound to be challenging combination.
We were awoken the following morning by Felix informing us that our breakfast was ready. When we got out of our tents we had a bowl of porrige waiting for us, the perfect way to start the day. The day didn't really start with prommising signs, there was overcast everywhere. I was slightly more reassured when I asked Felix what he thought the chances of rain when he replied that we should get to the top and back before the rain. The third night was going to be in the same spot also. The second lake was at an altitude of just over 5000 meters. It was going to take us about four and a half hours, after that, the return back about three hours. As we set off, we were well and truely into the rocky terrain. Straight away I noticed the altitude was making things slightly more challenging than the previous days. Felix gave us breaks every fifteen minutes to half an hour so that we could give ourselves a chance to top up our lungs again. After a couple of hours into the climb we came to our first glacial view. We were now right in the midst of the mountains, and it seemed the summits were just an arms reach away. By now the clouds had also parted, leaving a view of a white blanket comming off the mountain and down into the riverbed. At first I thought it was our final point where we were to have our lunch, but I was then quickly informed by Felix that we had another hour and a half to go. This was by far the hardest section on the whole trek. We were now pushing well upto 5000m, and the track was very steep and unstable. I was very thankfull at this stage that we wern't taking all of our gear with us. During this hour there were many "false horrizons" where I thought we were comming up to the final point, only to find yet another rough looking climb ahead of us.
Eventually we got over the final point, from here the view impressed me, but all I was worried about was lying down and giving my body some rest. I threw my bags down, collapsed onto the ground, and fell asleep for about fifteen minutes before being woken to the call that lunch was ready, which was also welcome news to my ears. It felt great to sit up at the highest point of the trek. I really had a sense of achievment after not even coming close in my last adventure. After enjoying the surroundings for about an hour and a half we had to start thinking about making our way back to camp. It was a nice relief on the way back walking down hill for a change, and also to know that we'd passed the highest point on the trek. The hike back seemed to be never ending, I didn't realise how much ground we'd covered in the climb up until we had to back track past it all on the return trip. When we finally got back to camp the day was pretty much over, as soon as dinner was done it was straight to bed to catch up on energy for the final day.
The third day was also set to be the easiest day, which was just as well after the previous days effort. It was simply a decent all the way back down to Sorata, Felix told us that we should expect to arrive there at about midday. As we made our way back down the valley we hiked down the opposite side from which we'd come up, which gave a slightly different perspective from our first day. The constant downhill was a great change for a start, but by the end of the day my knees were killing me. The final hour or so was a nice leasurly stroll down the road before arriving in Sorata around mid day, exactly as Felix had predicted. While I was having lunch I once again thought back to my chaotic first impression of this town. Now it was very much a quiet humble place, going about it's day to day life. I had no idea when I arrived that I'd get to know the surrounding area the way I did, but never the less I was greatfull that I was given the opportunity to do so. From here the plan was to go back to La Paz and after that, head south to get to know more of this intriuging country. After this trip I had many things that I wanted to experience in this country, all I had to do from here was make a decision and go!
The ride was very scenic, it also felt slightly unusual travelling by myself again. It hadn't been since my horror ride to Yurimaguas that I'd been on a bus by myself. This time I was packed into a van with local people, most of whom were the traditionally dressed Bolivian women known as "Cholitas." Their most distinctive feature is their two long plats that run all the way down their back. They all wear a long skirt which varies in colour from green, blue, or even purple. I never knew for sure, but I had a feeling that their colour corresponded with their family. On top they seemed to wear many layers, despite the substantial heat at times. The final layer was always a thick woollen jersey, or a cardigan of some sort. Then at times over top of the whole outfit they'd wear a blue apron. The final necessity to the outfit was the tall hat which sits on the very top of their heads, which would be held in place by a piece of elastic which ran around their jaw. I always found it interesting that both here, and in Peru, the hats would change according to the region they were from. Sometimes they would be similar to a black top hat, other times they were flatter with a wider brim, I even saw one region where they were white with all sorts of floral designs all over them. The other thing that amazed me about these women was the way they carried things around. They all owned a huge sling style of bag which often looked liked it weighed more than they did. They were all made out of colourful fabric which they would throw onto their backs, then tie both ends together at their neck. Sometimes they would be carrying a child on their back, whilst carrying another huge load in their arms.
The ride seemed to pass by pretty quickly, and before I knew it I was staring across the other side of the valley to Sorata. I was right in the middle of the mountains, by now it was getting dark, so most of the view was just a small cluster of lights. One thing that I didn't realise when I decided to come to this place, was that at this time they were in the middle of celebrating their annual fiesta. I'd been to a couple of fiestas in Peru so I thought I had a pretty good idea on what this one would be like also, but as we pulled up I quickly realised that this was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
As we edged our way into the outskirts of the town, the driver stopped the van and said, "ok guys we have to stop here, we can't go any further because of the fiesta." I realised then that this was probably a wee bit bigger than the others I'd experienced, but I was worried that this mite mean I would have to pay three times more that usual for a room. As I walked towards the main plaza there were cars parked in every space available. The closer I got, the louder the noise got. It quickly became apparent that this was something that literally this whole town celebrates. When I arrived at the plaza, the heart of the party, I was faced with a scene unlike anything I've ever seen. It was about 6pm, and everyone in my line of site was so drunk that they would have put any proud university student of New Zealand to shame. From where I was standing I could see numerous people just taking a piss from where they were standing. This wouldn't be a huge deal if it was just men, but it wasn't... whenever any of the women felt nature calling they would barely take two steps before squatting down and creating their own Lake Titikaka on the edge of the road, sometimes they would even carry on their conversation whilst doing so. Other people were already at the point where it was to much effort to stand so they would be sitting on a seat, drinking half of their beer, and spilling the other half all over the ground. I had only arrived at the edge of the party. As I looked into the plaza I saw an impressive stage with a live band. The whole street was literally packed with people enjoying themselves, passing around beers and doing some very interesting dance moves. After getting over the initial surprise of what I had just witnessed, I quickly moved my priority to finding a hostel to dump all my gear at. The first side street I walked down must have been the allocated urinal street for the night. It smelt worse than an unkept porter loo, and I had to watch my feet as I struggled to find dry patches on the road. I'd come to this place with the intention to find some peace and tranquillity for a wee while, but my first impression was on anything but that.
After about fifteen minutes of searching around I finally found a place that had a room available for a price I was willing to pay. At the hostel I met an Austrian guy who was happy to finally see another foreigner. We decided that we would go up and join in with the fiesta for ourselves. As we walked around we met another guy, a Londoner whom I'd gotten to know when I was in La Paz, Dave. With the three of us we had a perfect group to take on the party for ourselves. The people here were very friendly and welcoming of us into participating in their celebrations. After sitting down and having a couple of drinks, we decided that we'd have a wee go at dancing for ourselves. It seemed everyone was to drunk to realise there were a few gringos on the dance floor, those who did notice would often insist on telling us something in drunken spanish gibberish. Although I kept telling them I didn't understand anything they kept trying to maintain some sort of conversation. Bolivian people in general are very shy, so it was interesting to see everyone come out of their shells a wee bit more, and I noticed that in general they were very friendly when they did. I decided that I would call it a night around midnight and go to bed. I was looking forward to tomorrow, I would finally able to pitch my tent and enjoy and bit of time to myself in some quiet surroundings.
The following day I checked out of my hostel and made my way down to the campsite. Sorata was situated on top of a hill, and in order to get there I had to drop down a few dodgy tracks, then into a valley. After asking a local which way it was, he pointed me in the direction of a basic looking track, saying that it was about ten minutes away until I'd reach the camp site. I took off glad that it was only ten minutes that I'd have to carry all this gear for. At first the track was clear, but then after a couple of minutes it started to tapper off a wee bit. Before I knew it I was following what looked like a sheep track. I was still adamant that I was on the right track until I reached a barbed wire fence. I'd walked down so far with this heavy load by now that I really didn't want to turn back. After a wee bit of contemplation I decided that I'd have a go at getting over it. It ended up being a lot more of a struggle than I thought it would be. With a 25kg pack on my back, a 10kg bag on my front, and a guitar in my left hand, I was finally able to battle my way over, but not without catching my tent on the fence and putting a rip in the end of what was a water proof bag, then loosing my centre of gravity a few times, grabbing onto any piece of tussock that I could find to hold my weight. By this stage I was sure that I'd gone slightly off track, but I assured myself by thinking that surely it couldn't be to far from here. After about a half hour battle I was finally able to make it to the camp ground, but not without having to cross another barbed wire fence, walking through a swamp, then climbing this ridiculously steep hill. When the lady behind the counter saw me covered in sweat collapsed out on the bench she gave me a slightly puzzled look. I told her the trouble that I'd been through she laughed and said, "oh noo you missed it, the path is that one over there (pointing towards the hill at a very obvious looking track,) it's a wee bit steep, but it only really takes ten minutes to get down." When she showed me I realised that I'd been shown the completely wrong track from the start!
The place that I camped was called Altai Oasis. It was bought by a couple thirty years ago and over that time they worked on the land themselves and turned into a real paradise for anyone who wants to get away and relax for a while. The camping area was right down the bottom, tucked away by the river. There were no other campers at the time I was there, so I ended up getting the whole space to myself which was great. The camp area also had a huge BBQ, and a great set up for a camp fire. But as I wasn't sharing the area with anyone I never really made use of those facilities. On the second day I arranged to go with David for a day walk down to check out a bat cave by a small town called San Pedro. It was a popular day walk, said to have very spectacular valley views, and the cave was meant to be pretty impressive also. I hadn't seen much outside the town at this stage so I was curious as to what was offer. It was about a two and a half hour walk each way so we packed a lunch and set off the following day to check it out.
We just so happened to strike a perfect day. There were only a couple of clouds in the sky, as we walked out of the town we were able to look back and see the 6000m mountains which dwarfed Sorata. The road followed across the top of one of the valleys which passed around the outside of the town. As we got further along, the scenery of the valley constantly evolved. Sometimes it would be dry, barren shingle cliffs, then it would move to shades of red and orange, before becoming scattered with green vegetation. We arrived at the cave pretty much right on two and a half hours. It only had one tiny shop so I took the chance to boost my energy with a coke before carrying on to the cave. (After my time travelling so far I've come to the conclusion that Coca Cola is probably the one product that you can literally buy in all corners of the world!)
I had no idea what to expect with the cave, the main reason I'd done this was for the walk itself, so the cave was just a bit of a bonus for me. The entrance was not much higher than my head, and through the early stage we had to duck our heads every now and again. After a couple of minutes it opened out to this gigantic underworld. The way was consistently lit with light bulbs about every ten metres so we could see our way. I felt like I was Bruce Wayne, going down to take my batmobile for a spin. Just when I thought I'd seen the best of it, I noticed we were approaching some water. At first it just looked like a small puddle of water, but when we got closer I realised that it was infact a lake which now took up the entire bottom surface of the cave. At this point we were given two options. We could either take the path that went up along the top, or we could pay 5 bolivianos and take a paddle boat down the lake. I didn't have to think twice before paying the guy the money, then jumping on the boat. It was a nice change of scenery from mountains, but after half an hour we'd seen it all, and had to consider making our way back before it got to late. As we walked back I decided that the following day would be good to return back to La Paz. Two days seemed enough, and I'd now decided where I wanted to go next.
As soon as we returned back to the camp site our first priority was to get something to eat. There was an overpriced restaurant there which I was reluctant to eat at, but I was so hungry that I decided to make a compromise by ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. (It wasn't actually that expensive, but after being in Bolivia for a while, spending more than $5NZ on a meal seemed a bit steep. If you really want to you can find a good meal for around $2.) After satisfying my hunger Dave went back to his hostel and I sat there wondering what time I was going to leave the following day. It was at this point that I met Mark, a South African who lived in London. After meeting and talking a bit of rugby banter we quickly became good mates. He asked if I wanted to join in on a day walk tomorrow. I didn't have any plans set in stone and I figured that one more day wouldn't hurt so I gladly agreed to come along. The following day we went along to the tourist office. It turned out that they didn't have any good one day options. They only spoke spanish so I was doing the translating for Mark. He asked me to ask what they recommend as being the best walk. When I asked, he explained a four day walk which covered a range of scenery and climbed up to just over 5000 meters on the third day to visit a glacial lake. When I explained this to Mark he was automatically sold on that option. As we walked out I thought about what it would be like to participate on the hike. It wasn't long before deciding to join in on the team. I also remembered that Dave was here to do hiking as well. By mid afternoon we had a team of three, all set to leave the next day. That evening we also had a fourth member to our team, Stephany, a Belgium girl who Dave knew. That night I found it funny that I came here to just do a couple of days camping, and now I was about to take off on four day trek around the surrounding mountains. Even though I hadn't originally intended on doing this, I'd heard that this area was one of the best in Bolivia for hiking, so I was excited about seeing what the scenery had to offer.
The following day began with an early start. After being picked up from our hostel we were taken to the outskirts of the town, where we loaded up the mules with our gear. Our guide was called Felix. He was in his late twenties. His father, who looked after the mules also came. Felix said he was in his mid sixties, but he looked like he was at least in his seventies. It didn't take long before we were all loaded up and ready to go. The first day started with a simple leisurely walk along the road. It was set to be relatively easy, with some steady climbing, arriving at our first camp around 15.30 or so. The unfortunate thing about the trip was the haze that seemed to taint the view throughout the whole trip. I asked the guide about it and he said that it was due to a scrub fire in Santa Cruz. (If you look on the map you'll see that Santa Cruz is on the other side of the country, it must have been a big fire!) After a few hours of slow climbing we got to our lunch spot, a small clearing with a great view clearly showing where we'd come from. Throughout the four days our lunch consisted of Sandwiches with tuna, cucumber, tomato, and mayonnaise. The simple lunches were actually a nice change from the typical almuerzo (lunch) of rice, chips, chicken/beef, and salad. After lunch it was only about another three hour hike before we'd arrived at our camp site for the first day. The scenery reminded me of certain places back at home. This was the dry season which gave the rolling hills a brown tinge, the only green that remained were the pockets of trees scattered around the place. As soon as the sun dropped in got very cold, very quickly, so virtually straight after dinner we made our way to our tents to warm up a little. This meant an early night, but not necessarily to much sleep.
Felix had told us that the second day was one of the easiest. Most of the day was to be spent crossing around the side of the valley. The only climb was to be at the end of the day, where we had to climb up to the first glacial lake to spend our second night. During the early stages of the second day, the main topic of conservation was how unexpectedly cold it got the previous night. Apart from Colca Canyon I'd never really come across to much cold whether, so this was defiantly a wee bit of a shock to the system for me as well. The scenery on the second day slowly changed as we edged our way around the side of the valley. The vegetation became more sparse, and the brown countryside eventually gave way to impressive rocky landscapes. The day ended with one final push before we reached our spot to set up camp for the second night. It was right beside the first of the glacial lakes that we were to visit. Steph managed to convince the guide to let us swim in the lake. I wasn't to keen and told everyone else to go for it, but it got to the point where everyone else had braved the cold to jump in, so in order to keep my ego intact I decided that I would give it a go also. After the campsite was set up we all took the opportunity to restore the bodies for tomorrow. Not only was tomorrow an early start, but it was also set to be our most difficult day. The combination of the steep climbing and the altitutde was bound to be challenging combination.
We were awoken the following morning by Felix informing us that our breakfast was ready. When we got out of our tents we had a bowl of porrige waiting for us, the perfect way to start the day. The day didn't really start with prommising signs, there was overcast everywhere. I was slightly more reassured when I asked Felix what he thought the chances of rain when he replied that we should get to the top and back before the rain. The third night was going to be in the same spot also. The second lake was at an altitude of just over 5000 meters. It was going to take us about four and a half hours, after that, the return back about three hours. As we set off, we were well and truely into the rocky terrain. Straight away I noticed the altitude was making things slightly more challenging than the previous days. Felix gave us breaks every fifteen minutes to half an hour so that we could give ourselves a chance to top up our lungs again. After a couple of hours into the climb we came to our first glacial view. We were now right in the midst of the mountains, and it seemed the summits were just an arms reach away. By now the clouds had also parted, leaving a view of a white blanket comming off the mountain and down into the riverbed. At first I thought it was our final point where we were to have our lunch, but I was then quickly informed by Felix that we had another hour and a half to go. This was by far the hardest section on the whole trek. We were now pushing well upto 5000m, and the track was very steep and unstable. I was very thankfull at this stage that we wern't taking all of our gear with us. During this hour there were many "false horrizons" where I thought we were comming up to the final point, only to find yet another rough looking climb ahead of us.
Eventually we got over the final point, from here the view impressed me, but all I was worried about was lying down and giving my body some rest. I threw my bags down, collapsed onto the ground, and fell asleep for about fifteen minutes before being woken to the call that lunch was ready, which was also welcome news to my ears. It felt great to sit up at the highest point of the trek. I really had a sense of achievment after not even coming close in my last adventure. After enjoying the surroundings for about an hour and a half we had to start thinking about making our way back to camp. It was a nice relief on the way back walking down hill for a change, and also to know that we'd passed the highest point on the trek. The hike back seemed to be never ending, I didn't realise how much ground we'd covered in the climb up until we had to back track past it all on the return trip. When we finally got back to camp the day was pretty much over, as soon as dinner was done it was straight to bed to catch up on energy for the final day.
The third day was also set to be the easiest day, which was just as well after the previous days effort. It was simply a decent all the way back down to Sorata, Felix told us that we should expect to arrive there at about midday. As we made our way back down the valley we hiked down the opposite side from which we'd come up, which gave a slightly different perspective from our first day. The constant downhill was a great change for a start, but by the end of the day my knees were killing me. The final hour or so was a nice leasurly stroll down the road before arriving in Sorata around mid day, exactly as Felix had predicted. While I was having lunch I once again thought back to my chaotic first impression of this town. Now it was very much a quiet humble place, going about it's day to day life. I had no idea when I arrived that I'd get to know the surrounding area the way I did, but never the less I was greatfull that I was given the opportunity to do so. From here the plan was to go back to La Paz and after that, head south to get to know more of this intriuging country. After this trip I had many things that I wanted to experience in this country, all I had to do from here was make a decision and go!
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