updates updates.... its becoming harder and harder for me to write these things, so many stories, overhwelming to try to write them all down. but heres a shot at it anyway... pass this on to anyone i may have missed
so.. im still in bolivia. my introductory bus tour didnt scare me away, i love this country. ive been in la paz for almost three weeks now. the first few days i went out with some girls from the hostel, and of course had a wonderful time, drinking and dancing. we went in search of an after hours bar when the club closed called fin del mundo. when we arrived at the corner where the bar was suppsed to be, we were told by a group of locals (and a woman who appeared to be homeless) that the bar was closed indefinitely, but that there was another bar a few blocks away she could take us to. we had to wait for a friend to meet us there before we decided what we wanted to do, and in the 10 minutes we were waiting, about 5 more cabfuls of people from the club that we knew from the hostel were getting dumped onto our corner, everyone in search of the neverending night of drinking and dancing. so at this point we were about 20 strong instead of four, and decided to follow the homeless woman to the bar. so we walk, turn the corner and she tells us we have arrived. we look around, confused, feeling like we were just part of a joke, because there diddnt appear to be a bar anywhere. no signs, no lights, just rowhomes all boarded up and locked, secured with what looked like metal garage doors.
she knocks loudly on one of the metal gates, and the bar appears, the drunken mass of us tickled with delight at the thought of more beer. the bar, as it turns out, is like someones basement turned brothel. mirrors, couches, cheap disco balls, a homemade bar, and someone sleeping on the couch with a dog. but we brought the party with us, and the owners went out to buy alcohol to serve us. about an hour later, the group had doubled in size, now with a throb of travelers from all over south america, and some kind of higher ups in the police force. we drank and danced for hours, and since we were in the basement i had no idea what time it was. but i was quickly snatched up and taught to dance the salsa to the incredible music they had playing. music from columbia, argentina... i was a bit drunk, im sure i looked like a fool... but at the time i thought i was the greatest dancer ever. my main instruction for learing these dances was to find el sabor! the flavor... and i think i found it.
i finally decided i was going to collapse if i didnt go to bed right then. i had gone on a 5 hour mountain biking ride earlier that day (actually it was the day before at this point) and was exhausted. so i left the bar with some friends from the hostel, greeted by the later morming sun. awake for more than 24 hours now, but feeling invigorated and content after such a wonderful night.
for the past couple of weeks i have been hanging out with a bunch of the south american travellers i met at the bar that night. a group of artesans, incredible people, all of them so happy, living for the day. my spanish is significantly improved, its actually been difficult to switch back to english, like jumping from one world to the next, because for the most part i am speaking only in english to write emails. i am learning to make jewelry, play the drums. i feel like i have gotten off the beaten path, and have experienced so much more of bolivia with this group. they took me to a youth center where we played soccer and painted with some of the local kids, went to museums i never would have known to look for.
i just got back from the jungle, i went with a friend from columbia to a little town called coroico about 3 hours away from la paz. away from the pollution, the fast-paced lifestyle, the noise. also away from accessible atms... we hung out in coroico for a couple of days, just walking around, talking, making jewelry in a room that was simply four walls and two beds. icy cold showers, tattered curtains, abotu a dollar a day to stay there. met up with a group of travelers, two guys from france, a girl from sweden and a girl from chile. semana santa was coming up, and we were told we couldnt stay in our hotel because the entire town was about to fill up for the celebration. there were no rooms available anywhere. so sadly, we thought we were destined for la paz once again. however the hotel owner suggested we go to a little town called tocana. about 6 or so houses, a church and a school. the only catch was it would cost a fortune to get there in a minibus. so we decided to trek the 4 hours down one mountain and up another to get there. so the six of us left our rucksacks at the hotel, taking only the essentials with us. (toothbrush, soap, mate, a book, insect repellent, drums, a guitar and a flute ). we started the trek, with instructions to follow the footpath down and then follow another one up. there are a million footpaths... we ran into 3 locals going our way, and they pointed us in the right direction. our attempts to follow them lasted all of 5 minutes, as they were practically running down the mountain, accustomed to the altitude and the long walks. so we got to a cross road... left or right. we could see the little town in the distance, but it was straight ahead. so we said... eh, lets go left, its downhill. so we walk downhill for about 40 minutes taking in the amazing scenery of the mountains laced with clouds, plucking oranges off the trees and eating them, walking through swarms of butterflies, small waterfalls and amazing flowers. we get to a house where a few men were cutting the tall jungle grass with machetes and asked about our whereabouts. turns out we were going the wrong way, which we should have seen coming since we chose the easy path. so we turn around and have to hike UPhill for an hour and a half, none of us in shape and all having been smoking cigarettes relentlessly. the new instructions, follow the footpath just after where they made a small garbage heap. ok, clear enough. so we did... but the footpath ending in a mass of trees and mosquitos, so we again turned around, this time encountering another path that led is almost vertically up a hill, through some ruins. (quite a feat to hike with giant drums and guitars strapped to our backs). but we eventually made it to the right path, and were on our way, after a good 2 hours of being lost on a mountainside. (i continually felt the urge to sing songs from the sound of music). we were lapped twice by tiny old men with machetes, hunched over from working in the field all day, racing down the mountain with ease.
at the bottom of the first mountain, we stòpped to eat the most delicious bag of horrible cookies i have ever had, and washed them down with some more oranges. just as we were about to start the uphill trek, we were blessed with a truck that would carry us to the top for 3 bolivianos each. (pennies). so we hop in with the locals, hanging onto the sides of the truck and fly up these tiny winding gravel roads. we are greeted by a couple, maxima and david, who offer us a place to stay for the next few days. they had seen us wandering around lost in the mountain and were rather amused... so, for about 10 bolivianos each, the six of us went around back to this small shed where there were 6 twin mattress, a very dim light, and a cockroach friend we would encounter the next day. but it was perfect, what all of us were looking for. out of the city, getting to know the culture. maxima cooked an amazing lunch for us, lentils, rice tomatoes and sardines, and we pulled out the instruments and beers and played until dark. the next day we helped david and maxima prepare for the easter celebration, carrying caseloads of beers to the village culture center (a small church with a patio), lining the trees with balloons, streamers and branches of flowers. david and maxima made us a traditional drink called tomba negro. grain alcohol, fresh orange juice, and clove. incredibly smooth, incredibly strong... really sneaks up on you (also aided in chasing away any lingering fears of speaking in spanish). we spent the rest of the day playing music and talking, playing cards, laughing.
the day of the easter celebration i broke a tree. i was trying to get at some fruit, and the whole trunk just broke under my weight... so i hid the tree in the jungle.
we went to the culture center, where there was a drum circle of about 8 or so people, along with some other instruments that i have no idea how to name, but produced incredible sounds. about ten of the local women of the village clad in a myriad of white flowing skirts, decorated with a rainbow of handmade threads danced in front of the drum circle, along with maxima and davids 2 year old daughter. people came from the neighboring villages, drank tomba negro and we danced all day. the traditional music was incredible, i wish i could have recorded it. the men singing and playing the drums, the women dancing gently, and then the men ceasing the singing and speeding the tempo of the drums for the woman to dance more fervently and sing more boldly. we all circled around inside the church and danced, pleasantly buzzed from the tomba negro, chewing coca leaves and taking in the sun. at nightfall we headed back to the house with about 15 locals and continued to drink and play music until the wee hours of the night. they played rythms and melodies ive never heard before, it was beautiful. jani (the girl from sweden) and i were offered marriage proposals all night, on account of our blue eyes and light skin, and eagerness to sit and talk, luagh and learn from everyone. i had wonderful conversations with the people from tocana about the culture, the daily life, the traditions, the work. i dont think i have ever met such a welcoming group of people. and i met a man from the states who moved to tocana 6 years ago to teach math and physics. we talked about the difference in culture, what he misses from the states and what he is glad to have left behind.
eventually the 6 of us retired to the shed, and when we woke at noon the next day, the locals were still awake and drinking, still playing music, laughing, singing. we came out of the shed and maxima was preparing lunch. you cant get any fresher than a chicken killed and defeathered that day...
after lunch we gathered our stuffand said our goodbyes. we were given tons of hugs and instructed to come back anytime, and to send more people like us their way. we hopped in a truck back to coroico where i was finally able to take a shower. and now i am back in la paz, with its internet cafes, auctioneer type background noise of the minibuses trying to entice people to get in. rapidly listing off every street in the city they will carry you for one boliviano. la paz with its enumerous hills, swarms of people, policemen directing traffice with a nearly constant stream of whistles, street markets, fresh juice and artesans.
so many more stories... but i have been sitting in an internet cafe far too long now. one of these days i will upload more pictures, but it takes so long... miss everyone
