Bolivia with my Dad

There he was, my dad, in Bolivia.

It was the first time he was in Latin America, the first time in a country like this, the first time traveling with me alone and the first time backpacking sins his youth.

My dad being 62 and arriving with an extreme cold (his synusses were totally blocked) we had to take it easy the first days in La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, because it's definably a blow to the system to go from below sealevel to 3660m above.

So the first few days we did a lot of market-strolling, tea-drinking and getting-everything-organized business.

Here you see one of the witch-stands.

Those cholitas (indigenous lady who lives in the city but still wears her traditional dress) sell all kinds of herbal and folk remedies plus a few more unorthodox ingredients intended to manipulate and supplicate the various malevolent and benevolent spirits of the Aymara world. So you may buy a llama fetus to burry under your doorstep as offering to PachaMama for her well blessing. We as well bought a plate with colorful herbs, seeds and an assortment of critter parts to burn on top of a mountain one day.

The lively tourist artesanias.
Many seeds, nuts, sweets and dried fruits to eat.

Up to El Alto where dads nails turned blue with the 4050m altitude, but the view of La Paz starting up all it's lights was impressive.

Our first travel started with a bus to Tiahuanaco. We arrived in the afternoon and a super friendly guy took us into town and made us sleep in his garden. He also was guide to the ruins and so we asked him to guide us around the next morning.

Many of the tomato-mayonais-cheese-capsicum sandwiches we would eat.

Little is know about the Tiahuanaco people that lived from 600BC untill AD1200. The massive ceremonial tempel that you can visit today was constructed between AD300 and 700.

The most impressive part is the sungate, the stone faces in one of the temples and the massive monoliths with carvings. The museums hold well preseved pottery, gold, silver and bronze objects and other utensils.

Next a little detour through Peru, just because it was the shortest way to the next place. But it became a sad crossing.

I'm so extremely ashamed that this happened to me, being a hardened traveler. It must be the learned mentality that the police and other man in uniform are to be respected and treated with courtesy. Well, in those countries you should drop this politenes because coruption makes them less then worthy.

A group of policeman asked us to show our bags: 'For fake money and drugs.' They kept asking how much money we exactly had, my dad at one table, me at another. My dad not knowing what was asked so I turned my attention to his table and most likely that's when they stole probalby 300 Bolivianos ($43 or 35euro). Jeez, how much of an ass do you feel then when you recount your money in the bus and are trying to figure it out.

Copacabana.

A town I had been to before, little, very atmospheric, quite some tourist, a huge Moorish Cathedral where.........

every morning a whole line of cars is getting blessed by a priest. You may buy everything you desire in miniature (houses, shops, cars, money, luggage to go travel, love or health) which will be watered and blessed so you might recieve it in the upcoming year.
Once a year there is a huge pilgramage as well, to the top of Cerro Calvario. Here many people will stall their miniature desire with candels and lots of prayers.

Dad puffing up the hill.

We came more for the stunning views and every shape of blue that Lago Titicaca stands for.

Next a boat trip to one of the small islands in the southern Lago Huyñaymarka.

We found the two-times-a-week cargo lancha just in time and had a traquilo cruise of a few hours with a boat full with bread (a dream for me) to Isla Suriqui.

The colorful fishing boats in the totora reeds.

We just stayed untill 1am which is when another once-a-day local boat would return to shore. There was an extreme storm that night, with huge rains, massive thunder and so we did not leave untill 4am. But a candle lit the boat very admirely and the locals were very friendly.

Straight into a colectivo to La Paz and on in a big bus to Oruro where we kept going by thum to a little town towards the Chilean boarder. A dusty cowboy town where we shopt in every little store for one of the products to make our famous sandwiches with beer.

Aymara lady selling Salteñas in the bus.

Stuck in an area without public transport. So hitch hiking it was. Well, we sat here in the middle of the altiplano from 9:30am untill 4pm before we decided to hitch back to town. Don't think this was a bad day, o no, we made a nice place to sit with some cover for the sun and chatted the day away.

So one full salt truck took us back to town where another empty one passed, the drivers talked, I asked if he went to the salar and we hopped from one to the other and still came to where we were hoping.

The last stretch, to the little salt mining town of Coipasa, we drove with a family who just came back from working at the salar. Upon arrivel they told us we could sleep at their place cause the towns only 'hotel' was closed. Very nice! We were given a thermos with hot water and Buñuelos (fried, dough pancackes).

Drying salted meat.

The room we slept in.

So there we were: Salar the Coipasa.

In this part of Boliva you find a most eerie landscape made of salt, the blue sky and you.

Together with Salar de Uyuni this is the largest salt flat in the world (12,106 sq km) and sits at an hight of 3653m. 40.000 years ago a massive lake covered most of southwest Boliva. It dried up, the area lay dry for 14,000 years, was covered again and finnaly dried up 10,000 years ago to leave behind two large puddles and the salars. So it's drained internally; the salt deposits are the result of the minerals leached from the mountains and deposited at the lowest available point.

Nowadays it's a center of salt extraction and processing (nearly 20,000 tons, 18,000 tons of wich is for human consumption while the rest is for livestock) and tourism.

Because the whiteness is extremely blinding and we both did not have sunglasses, we made some with dads reading glasses and tuct tape. Like the eskimos did with bone.

So every day those people go here, hack out chuncks of salt, let them dry, wheck them in smaller parts and then shuffle them one shovel at a time into trucks until they are full. It's always amazing to see what man still does by hand.

The next day we hitched to a little town on the side of salar de Uyuni, dad sitting ontop of the cabin for several hours. And the day after we crossed 150km salt flat. Some parts had a layer of water which would reflect the clouds perfectly, like you were flying through the North Pole with 25 degrees.
The town of Uyuni was full with backpackers, so we took a nightbus straight to Potosi. Arriving at 3am we did not feel like paying for a hotel for only a few hours. So we looked around and found a good hallway in front of the police. We did wake them up with our noises, but it was ok to spread our matress for a few hours.

Potosi

A town famous for it's 'Cerro Rico' (Rich Hill).

For four centuries the mines of Cerro Rico have been productive and none is certain how much silver has been extracted, but it is know that the Spanish monarchy came to rely completely on the yearly treasure fleets which brought the potosi silver. Soon after discovery of its riches the Spanish took control of the area in 1545 and started to mine the hill with indigenous and later African slaves under exteme conditions. Man worked in 12 hour shifts and stayed underground for four months at a time. The work was dangerous and many died of accidents and silicosis pneumonia. It is estimated that eight million slaves died between 1545 and 1825.

Now it's a huge tourist attraction to visit the mines to get an idea how the conditions were and still are. With way too many people you drive to the tunnel you will enter, clothes, boots, a helm and lamp are given and the (way too big of a) group enters. Before you will visit a store where also the miners buy there alcohol, cigarettes, candy, sodas, dinamite and coca for the days work. You are advised (pushed) to buy some 'presents' for the miners you will come across and to offer to the 'Tio' (uncle) who needs to be given offerings for a good journey in his world (the devil).

Making offerings to 'El Tio'

Dad and I really did not like this tour, it was too big, it went too slow, we hardly saw anything and we really felt like tourists. I really don't recommend to do this tour with an operator but to find other ways to go inside.

Potosi the city was very nice, I liked the atmosphere and we enjoyed wandering the streets.

I had bought my dad a little book to draw his new adventures, both because he and many others like his drawings and also so I could write in my diary sometimes.

Tea and coffee break.

Next up to Baños de Chaqui.

It was pretty dirty, the water full with others, very hot and primitive, but one of the coolest things we did. We were a huge attraction as the only foreigners: 'So why do you foreigners have such a white skin, is that because of the weather there?'

To make the best of the nice hot water, people from far away would come here to wash their blankets and other big things. So many washtubs are made and fed by the thermal waters. We followed suit and washed some too.

Sucre, Bolivias judicial capital, is said to be the most beautiful city in the country.

We walked around, enjoyed the green plaza for many hours and found a personal museum in this little store. The guy has so many antique coca, herb, medicine or dried-fruit-for-the-journey bags that he could definably make a tour with them. Dad bought some really nice things here and promised the guy he would contact some museums in Holland.

After arriving with a heavy cold, blue nails and short breath at the alti plano, burned hands and his bald head from hitching in open trucks his tooth ache (caused by breaking off a piece on the second day) became too bad and he decided to pull his third molar. She did not get the whole thing, turned out later, and a rotten taste stayed the whole time he was here. I'm happy he did not get any diaria because we ate all food and drank all water we came across.

Hitch hiking in open trucks for the best view, two days long.

Again we arrived a bit late at night, knowing we would leave early in the morning. So we found the gardens of the church and decided they were perfect to sleep. Nice flowers.

Other ruins: 'El Fuerte'

Build 1500BC with many niches and strange grooves. People still have no idea what everything means.

And so we arrived to the lowlands. Where a sticky heat took over, the jungle turned the world green instead of blue and misquitos became part of the day.

A walk to a wide river where we had a nice afternoon. Luckily no crocodiles.

In a next town we found a local guide who offered tours into the jungle for a good price and so we headed off to see the marvels of bug life, plant growth and waterways.

PachaMamas color palet.

Dad had made Tevas from his flipflops by drilling a hole through the sole and stringing, elegantly, a band around his ankles, like a balerina. All stripped tight with Duct tape. It wasn't perfect for the slippery rocks, but it served for the two days.

Acompanied by many butterflies, orchids, ants and huge spiders, Paraiso trees, monkeys, tiger footprints, many parrot birds, sandflies, little waterfals, nibling fish and dense jungle we walked and waded through this paradise for two days.

Most of the route we followed this little river, some parts a little deep, other parts with nice beaches to take a break. We swam a lot, really thought it very pretty (to my opinion prettier then Costa Rica which has some very pretty jungle too) and listened to the hum of insects in the night. Many fireflies too.

The big waterfall we hiked too the second day.

And so you really know you are in forgotten land: many times we crossed coca property, legal and illegal. Little pieces of land with some production, a little house and the cloudforests in the distance. Rice as well was grown here and there.

Cochabamba

Trough greens valleys we returned higher.

It was Sunday and no busses, colectivos, taxis, trucks or other transport was in action. All stores were closed besides some market stands. All this for the re-elections of Evo Morales. This first indeginous president is trying to empower the nation's poor (mainly indigenous) majority, to destribute equal land properties and to make sure that money from economical produce stays in the country. The rich easern departments want him out, they don't like to take care of the poorer western departments of the alti plano.
With a 58% he won: 'SI'

So after this day wait for transport we arrived back in La Paz for a last day shopping and yesterday I put my dad on the plane with a huge box with collected souveniers and memories.

We definably saw everything Bolivia has to offer and I'm super proud that it all went so smooth. We did not have any arguments, he never complained about the situation we were in he just experienced it like I knew he would: like a relaxed bypasser in time and space.

Pap, hardstikke tof dat je hier bent geweest, ook al had je nooit gedacht dat je ooit in een jungle zou komen, al helemaal niet in Boliva, ik denk dat je er trots op mag zijn dat ook dat nu een van je ervaringen is en opgeslagen mag worden in dat toch al rijke dagboek met herinneringen.

Super bedankt voor alle geschiedenis lessen, het vertellen hoe nederland tegenwoordig draaid met al onze familie en vrienden en dat je me zo makkelijk de weg hebt laten wijzen.

Zoals velen zeggen: 'Ja, maar met Henny is het ook makkelijk reizen!'

Ik ben weer slimmer, heb een beter idee over mij en ben blij dat je mij in mijn wereld nu ook kent.

Vertel of ik schiet!