We’re two weeks home now and I’m posting my final entry. I thought it would be fun to do Michael’s “Best and Worst of Bolivia.” (Of course, your experience may vary. Consult your owner’s manual.)
We were hosted in six cities: Santa Cruz, Sucre, Potosi, Cochabamba, La Paz, and Oruro. My favorite city was Sucre. It was small enough to get around on foot and it was interesting and pretty architecturally.
Oruro was a surprising 2nd place. Most folks we met prior to our arrival spoke unfavorably about it, as it was on the high plain, cold at night, and not particularly pretty. But it was compact enough to make foot travel easy and the culture, with its world-famous carnival, made it easy for me to like. There was incredible sculpture on the main road into town. My Spanish skills had improved to the point where I was able to ask for directions and negotiate purchases at the markets.
Potosi was overwhelmed with history. It was founded by the Spanish in 1546 as a mining town, for the incredible deposits of silver under the Cerro Rico (rich mountain) which is the looming backdrop of the city. It was once one of the largest cities in the world, with a population over 200,000. I imagine every visitor is touched by the triumph and tragedy of Potosi’s past.
Cochabamba had the most attractive and pleasant natural setting, with the sweeping arch of mountains around it. My host had a grand, opulent home, and departing was difficult.
La Paz had one of the most interesting settings of any city I’ve ever visited in the world, on a canyon below the Altiplano. It was too big a city for my taste (as was Santa Cruz), but it was a gorgeous sight coming into the city from the canyon rim at night.
Santa Cruz was hot, flat, and crowded, but the people there were great.
The best food was the fresh produce, particularly the fruit juices. We drank more juices that I had never drunk before than I can count or remember. They were all wonderful. The beef was tasty but in many cases too tough to swallow. We were served dozens of varieties of potatoes and all were good. The picante sauce was tongue-scalding!
The nicest gift I was given was a black sombrero at Sucre’s hat factory.
The best fun I had was bicycling down “The World’s Most Dangerous Road,” chronicled elsewhere on this site. It was amazing!
The most surprising thing was the herds of stray dogs that roamed every city.
The most beautiful sight was of one of the volcanic mountains near La Paz, lit by a setting sun on an otherwise overcast evening.
The most frustrating thing was my ongoing struggle to better understand Spanish. By the end of the trip, I could communicate my needs and understand simple requests and instructions. But I was never able to understand Spanish conversations.
The best service opportunity I had was with the team from Rotary Club De Los Charcas, Sucre, as they gave free medical services to the people of the pueblo of Chaco.
The most nerve-wracking experience was walking through the blockade in Sucre. In hindsight, it was not truly threatening. But it was scary nonetheless.
The worst thing I experienced in Bolivia was the public rest rooms. All of them. They were absolutely filthy, disgusting. No toilet seats, no toilet paper… And there were piles of trash seemingly everywhere.
The very best part of the trip was the people. They were warm, cordial, resilient, welcoming, helpful, uninhibited, and fun. There were people I could barely communicate with who, for the warmth and generosity they exuded, I came to adore.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Michael: heading home today
Today we pack our things (again!), turn our psychic compasses northward, and begin moving home. We depart Oruro at 4pm for La Paz where in the morning we catch the first of 4 airplanes for home.
I´ve been asked several times in recent days, ¨Do you like Bolivia.¨ This is not a question that lends itself to a simple answer. I´ll ramble for a moment, then get back to it.
Two nights ago, I walked back to my guest home from a reception about 8 blocks away, here near the center of the city. I quickly learned that at the midnight hour, the city belongs to the dogs. Dozens of them roam the streets and sidewalks, rooting through garbage for scraps of food, playing with each other, fighting for territory, and initiating reproduction. They are generally placid, almost oblivious to humans, and they instinctively scurry away from oncoming cars. Some appear healthy and look like they would be great pets while others are completely unkempt.
Yesterday, I roamed several of the city´s outdoor markets in search of souveniers and a replacement pair of Tiva sandals. The search for sandals was unsuccessful, but otherwise the journey was great fun. My Spanish skills are still entirely lacking, but I found that with patience on the part of the vendor I could negotiate purchases and find things I was looking for. Everything was extraordinarily inexpensive, like cloth wallets for $1.80 and fiber-pile jackets for $8.00 American. The markets are a bee-hive of activity, with incredible amounts of inventory packed into tight spaces. Shoppers bounce shoulders with one another and jockey for room to walk. In the rare areas where the walking space is 10-feet wide or more, often a car will crawl along at walking space, vying for access with the pedestrians. At one point, the bright, low sun pounded my eyes, casting a surreal glow over the stacks of merchandise and overhead canopies.
Last night, the Rotary Convention hosted what was essentially a talent competition. Each club throughout the district offered a performance of song or dance, either on stage or on a dance floor surrounded by draped tables and chairs. Ostensibly to begin around 8:30, nothing happened until past 10:00 when the room jumped to life. An announcer with a radio-quality voice brought team after team to the floor where they danced, pounded drums, and waved flags, while wearing elaborate costumes of their cultural areas. It was obvious that team members practiced many hours in preparation for the competition. We were served a snack of fried chicken and French fries in a basket, but the meal was secondary to the entertainment. This revelry continued until past midnight when I slipped away into the cold night, headed for my host home.
So do I like Bolivia? There is a peculiar mix of sangfroid and exuberance that is appealing, frustrating, and curious. These folks are absolutely generous and friendly, and they have treated us with enormous kindness. Even with those I cannot communicate, the fondness and sincerity is overflowing. The food has been plentiful and fresh, with exotic fruit juices and vegetables. The scenery is varied and beautiful. But the poverty is pervasive and the needs of the people are enormous: in education, health, sanitation, and opportunity.
I stare out the window from my host´s desk upon 2-story buildings of crumbling stucco, mazes of electrical wires, and clay and tin roof tiles, wondering if I´ll ever return here. The world is full of fascinating places and there are more to explore. But none are more fascinating than Bolivia.
Many of the Rotarians I´ve met have asked that I go to the clubs in America and ask for assistance with their vital work in helping their countrymen live safer, healthier, and more successful lives. As part of our obligation to Rotary, my team members and I will be visiting with clubs and presenting stories of our travels. I hope we will find lots of open wallets to help repay the wonderful people of Bolivia for the kindnesses they have shown us.
I´ve been asked several times in recent days, ¨Do you like Bolivia.¨ This is not a question that lends itself to a simple answer. I´ll ramble for a moment, then get back to it.
Two nights ago, I walked back to my guest home from a reception about 8 blocks away, here near the center of the city. I quickly learned that at the midnight hour, the city belongs to the dogs. Dozens of them roam the streets and sidewalks, rooting through garbage for scraps of food, playing with each other, fighting for territory, and initiating reproduction. They are generally placid, almost oblivious to humans, and they instinctively scurry away from oncoming cars. Some appear healthy and look like they would be great pets while others are completely unkempt.
Yesterday, I roamed several of the city´s outdoor markets in search of souveniers and a replacement pair of Tiva sandals. The search for sandals was unsuccessful, but otherwise the journey was great fun. My Spanish skills are still entirely lacking, but I found that with patience on the part of the vendor I could negotiate purchases and find things I was looking for. Everything was extraordinarily inexpensive, like cloth wallets for $1.80 and fiber-pile jackets for $8.00 American. The markets are a bee-hive of activity, with incredible amounts of inventory packed into tight spaces. Shoppers bounce shoulders with one another and jockey for room to walk. In the rare areas where the walking space is 10-feet wide or more, often a car will crawl along at walking space, vying for access with the pedestrians. At one point, the bright, low sun pounded my eyes, casting a surreal glow over the stacks of merchandise and overhead canopies.
Last night, the Rotary Convention hosted what was essentially a talent competition. Each club throughout the district offered a performance of song or dance, either on stage or on a dance floor surrounded by draped tables and chairs. Ostensibly to begin around 8:30, nothing happened until past 10:00 when the room jumped to life. An announcer with a radio-quality voice brought team after team to the floor where they danced, pounded drums, and waved flags, while wearing elaborate costumes of their cultural areas. It was obvious that team members practiced many hours in preparation for the competition. We were served a snack of fried chicken and French fries in a basket, but the meal was secondary to the entertainment. This revelry continued until past midnight when I slipped away into the cold night, headed for my host home.
So do I like Bolivia? There is a peculiar mix of sangfroid and exuberance that is appealing, frustrating, and curious. These folks are absolutely generous and friendly, and they have treated us with enormous kindness. Even with those I cannot communicate, the fondness and sincerity is overflowing. The food has been plentiful and fresh, with exotic fruit juices and vegetables. The scenery is varied and beautiful. But the poverty is pervasive and the needs of the people are enormous: in education, health, sanitation, and opportunity.
I stare out the window from my host´s desk upon 2-story buildings of crumbling stucco, mazes of electrical wires, and clay and tin roof tiles, wondering if I´ll ever return here. The world is full of fascinating places and there are more to explore. But none are more fascinating than Bolivia.
Many of the Rotarians I´ve met have asked that I go to the clubs in America and ask for assistance with their vital work in helping their countrymen live safer, healthier, and more successful lives. As part of our obligation to Rotary, my team members and I will be visiting with clubs and presenting stories of our travels. I hope we will find lots of open wallets to help repay the wonderful people of Bolivia for the kindnesses they have shown us.
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