On the road again

For those of you who haven't heard the crazy plan born of a whim back in October, I'm heading up through Peru, Ecuador and Colombia to catch a flight out of Bogotá on the 20th of November. It should be an adventure since I only have three weeks and a lot of heavy bags to remind me how long I've been down here.

I've made it to Cuenca after zooming through Perú on a 27-hour bus and a 31-hour bus (both were supposed to be 26 hours). It's not as bad as it sounds -- I met a fun traveling crew made up of a Bolivian, a Colombian, a Peruvian and a German, watched a ton of bad movies dubbed in Spanish, ate chicken for two days straight and saw just about all of the surreal Peruvian coast.

Goodbyes were really hard, but in the end it did feel like the time to take off, and it's somewhat of a relief to be on the road and not just anticipating it. Just to do some sort of send-off:


Some things I learned in Bolivia:
latin american spanish in all its glory
the true meaning of FOLKdance, from and for the people
going somewhere is not so much about the destination, but about the joooouuuurney, so never ever make travel itineraries and go with the flow
patience, infinite patience in all things is a virtue
to talk openly about bowel movements
to not depend on written information or order -- that is, to always ask questions to get around
History is not easily forgotten and social revolution is more complicated than fresh faces and unexpected leaders. Pessimism, blame, disappointment after disappointment... things aren't going to be easy for Bolivia.


What I'll most miss:
family and friends
the folkdances and standard tunes that come out at every gathering and how much everyone still loves them... and that everyone knows the dances!
Quechua
speaking Spanish
egg sandwiches for 2 bs on the street corner in the middle of the night (or street food in general)
the high altitude rural night sky with more stars than imaginable
folk music - charangos, quenas, zampoñas...
taxi drivers - so friendly and talkative
being woken up every morning to eat breakfast so that I wouldn't eat alone. eating in a group and arguing during lunch.
dancing with my buddy Carlitos in the kitchen
artesanía
being called Kris (Krees), mamita, waway, kachamosa
mountains, hardcore Bolivia style
humintas, api, pastel, sopa de maní, choclo, yuca, fresh quesillo, chupando (sucking) oranges and mangos
cumbia and latin pop (no lie)
resourcefulness and the spirit of repair and do it yourself. so many people who know how to make clothes, fix a shoe, use something until it's reeeeeally broken, not just throw it out when it gets old.


And just a few of the things I'm most looking forward to back in the patria:
family and friends
cooking
hot showers and water pressure
a cat in the house and cats in general that don't carry the freaky disease that causes birth defects in women that pet them
kayak
bike
piano
dad salad, bagels, loose tea and my teapot, sourdough bread, blueberries
not being treated differently for being a woman/foreigner
the ocean

Guess who got to dance in an entrada this weekend! And in tinkus!

Entradas are epic parades of dance throughout the city that happen on occasions like Carnival and important saint days in Bolivia. Cochabamba has a third entrada put on annually by the university, where different schools and departments form dance “fraternities” and parade throughout the city.

I’ve longed to dance in an entrada – but I was out of the country for Carnival, working too hard in the weeks before the August Virgin of Urkupiña entrada, and had been in Argentina during the weeks before this entrada, my last chance. Looked hopeless, but three days before the entrada, my host sister Helen dragged me to the agriculture department, where a friend of a friend told us that we would find a very welcoming tinkus fraternity. We “learned” six different steps in those three days, rented our dresses, and became part of the group.

Tinku means “encounter” in Quechua, and the dance is based on a traditional form of controlled ritual fighting in the Potosí department of Bolivia. The dance is animated, very low to the ground, and extremely energetic.

The experience was amazing – I almost backed out at the last minute due to some nasty migraines and really really hot weather recently, but didn’t want to give up the chance. Luckily, we didn’t start parading until the sun was already going down. The leaders of the group signal which steps to do and the intensity by whistling, so we were pretty much moving the whole 3 kilometer route (felt much longer). The energy was amazing, both with the crowd along the route and the support of the other dancers. By far one of the most amazing things I’ve done here, despite the nasty blisters all over the bottom of my feet! This is what my feet looked like at the end of the night:

Here's some stage tinku to get an idea of the style:

Araña tejedora

This is my latest. I'm quite content with it.

Arañas is what my host dad Freddy likes to call us when he walks into the tiny living room, usually some sort of telenovela as white noise, Helen, Magui, Lili, Maca and me knitting away like busy little spiders.

Considering my imminent return to the homeland, I've been evaluating my belongings and figuring out how I'm going to get it all back. In the process, I realized the collection of hand-crafted goodies I've accumulated in these past months of knitting/crocheting coming-of-age. Since I may have to do some shipping, and most certainly some luggage checking, I was inspired to do a photo shoot to record my achievements, just in case something should happen to them.

I've added a link to the folder of pictures ("crafty kris") for all of you who have supported my craftiness throughout the years, never making fun of my homebody granny tendencies, and graciously accepting my novice deformed gifts with the faith that one day I would produce something more elegant...

September travels

It's been a month of leaving Cochabamba and coming back again, which might become an October trend as well.

I started out going east to tropical, sexy "camba" Bolivia for my birthday:

Ashley and I rocking out to Julieta Venegas with teeny bopper Bolivians in Santa Cruz. She brought in my birthday at midnight with Andar Conmigo.

Absorbing energy from the ruins outside of Samaipata, south of Santa Cruz on a lovely road full of haciendas and what must be some of the richest, most well cared for pueblos in Bolivia. Maybe this should be expected from one of the richest departments in Bolivia, but it's still surprising in contrast to pueblos in Oruro and Potosi, for example.

Ashley and I spent our last day in gorgeous Buena Vista, a friendly little pueblo looking over the tropical Amboro national park. We hiked, sunbathed, swam and pampered ourselves in the intense humidity -- it was decadent to wander around in sandals and scant clothing and feel comfortable, no catcalls or looks in a region where intense heat is the norm.


After a week back in Cochabamba, I spontaneously set out on quite a different journey, southbound to the cooooold altiplano. My original plan was to spend a quick weekend revisiting Potosi, but when I found out there were train tickets to Uyuni, I decided to go to the Salar de Uyuni (the biggest salt flat in the world) first:

Sunset from the train

Appropriately, we got a flat tire and the giggles less than a half hour into our three-day tour.

An "island" in the middle of the salt flat.

Only the first day of the tour is actually spent on the salt flat, after which we headed down into the expansive, icy, windy, almost entirely uninhabited Bolivian southwest. Much of the trip is spent driving through dramatic vistas of lakes, rock formations, and volcanoes like this one.

Train tracks to Chile in the middle of nowhere with German Max and Brazilian Joao, from my multilingual tour group.

We visited several lakes that come in startling blues, reds and greens due to the high level of mineral deposits in the region. Chilean and Andean flamingos flock to the lakes and live together in peace!



The last morning we got up at 4:00 in the morning in freezing cold at a 5000 meter altitude and watched the sun rise behind a family of geysers.

We moved on to hot springs steaming dramatically in the morning frost. Getting in was tempting, but I couldn't conceive of getting out again in the intense cold. I stuck my numb feet and hands in and warmed my whole body.


A ch'alla (ritual offering for good luck) on the way back to Uyuni, for safe travels on a dangerous road.


From Uyuni, I headed to Potosi, one of my favorite cities in Bolivia -- for its history, beautiful architecture and friendly people.

On top of Potosi (and the world) with a view of Cerro Rico, a primary source of the modern world's riches.

Wandering through the city at sunset.

Farewell, FSD

A year ago, so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed:


Friday was the last day for Ashley and me, which we celebrated with some bubbly and Ghirardelli chocolates (thanks Mom). It seems like we got everything done, or at least did everything we could to successfully pass the torch to Becky.

This isn’t goodbye, though – especially not in September, the official month of Cochabamba, when every other day is some sort of fiesta or concert.

I panicked for a few hours on Saturday about the prospect of my indefinite vacation and no longer having some sort of structure to my life. Sunday I was distracted by my second encounter with the amazing Día del Peatón. And today I realized that there are plenty of ways I would like to spend another three months in South America. It didn’t take much time to remember how to be on vacation… although I think it will take a little bit longer to convince myself that this sort of vacation is justifiable…

The plan right now, the one which has been the most constant of all my fantasizing and scheming, is to travel in the next few months, most likely in Bolivia, Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil, but to keep coming back to Cocha as a base. Ostensibly because I have lots of stuff, but really because I like the idea of being here a bit longer.

Boliiiiiviaaaaa

Really horrible quality, but a small taste of what it was like... I'm one of the gals in white, but unspottable.

Un resumen en fotos, part 2, Día del Campesino

Last Thursday I celebrated Día del Campesino in Ukureña, a small pueblo outside of the city which is famous for being a center of the agrarian/campesino revolution in Bolivia.

A bad translation for Día del Campesino is Peasant Day; it used to be Día del Indio (Indian Day?), which many people still use, before “campesino” replaced “indio” as a more p.c. term to describe indigenous people who live in rural areas.

It was somewhat excruciating listening to several speeches half in Quechua/half in Spanish before Evo started speaking, and his speech wasn’t the most transcendental – but it was absolutely fascinating to see how the crowd, and later the press, reacted to him. The campesinos love him, nudging each other (“did you hear that?”) and clapping enthusiastically when he announced that each mayor would be getting a tractor to lend out, or milk to distribute to schools, and pushing like crazy to shake his hands..

Meanwhile, back at home, the biggest news on TV and being debated at everyone’s kitchen table were just two parts of his speech, and nothing about the history of the Ukureña movement, or some of the controversial new foreign-sponsored projects that Evo mentioned, for example. On one hand they stressed that Evo had changed the name of the day (scandalous! dictatorial!). Even more attacked by the press was Evo’s brief request that everyone sing the national anthem with the right hand on the heart and the left fist in the air for Bolivia Day this weekend (trying to provoke another indigenous uprising, surely!)

I know there’s distortion out there, it’s nothing new – but seeing how fired up Evo criticizers get about these details is extremely annoying. On the other side, Evo continuous poking at the opposition, no matter how harmless and even fun it may seem to his supporters, is not doing much to promote national unity in a terribly divided country. And that’s what’s going to prevent him from really making changes in the end.

On a side note, we discovered one of the coolest jobs in the Bolivian government. The Vice Ministerio de Coca (Vice Ministry of Coca) was on the premises with an SUV full of coca which they threw at the delighted crowd and people on the streets. We met a couple of friendly coca ministers who treated us to a big bag to hand out and for our own chewing pleasure.

P.S. Yesterday was Bolivia Day – it’s always refreshing to be in a place where patriotism can be safely celebrated by wearing the colors of the flag and listening to national music. Viva Bolivia!