bolivia
[unedited]
From Santa Cruz we went to a town called Samaipata. A delightful little spot in Bolivia that is home to bohemian expats from all over the world. Bolivia has a decent wine industry, much to our surprise, and Samaipata is right in the heart of it. We stayed for a few days enjoying the food, wine and really good live music. We also spent days hiking and one day at an animal refuge where monkeys and other brilliant and breathtaking creatures roam freely.
It was in Bolivia that we discovered coca tea and coca leaves. Given the high altitude of most of the places we visited in Bolivia, coca (what is used to make cocaine, but cocaine is highly processed with horrific chemicals like gasoline—coca is a natural tea leaf) is used primarily to calm altitude sickness. From Samaipata we travelled to a town we fell in love with called Sucre. It is one of the capitals of Bolivia (two capitals in Bolivia) with a rich history; a ton of green, lush parks and beautiful colonial buildings. It is an family friendly town. It was in Sucre that I got hit again with illness, this time a severe sinus infection. Being in such a dry climate only aggravated it. But, it was in Sucre where we took cooking classes, met other travelers and locals who we're still connected with (posted 5/3/18) and found a sense that Eden can be cultivated nearly anywhere, with a little love and a lot of patience.
From Sucre we traveled back through Santa Cruz then onto a town called Potosi, which sits at more than 13,000 feet above sea level. Our journey to Potosi was curious, to say the least. We were part of a small caravan and our driver had an issue of staying awake. He even pulled over and poured cold water over his head at one point. This is one of those, somewhat common, stories we haven't shared too much of, to spare worry of loved ones back home. It is too hard to explain the psychology of passengers in a situation where a driver is not fully present. We could have gotten out of the car and been stranded in the high Bolivian desert, but that seemed equally unsafe. So, we kept our driver awake until we arrived safely at our destination.
Nothing like these little moments of insecurity to make one grateful to be alive.
We were only in Potosi for a couple days as a way to acclimate to the high altitude before heading the Salt Flats. By the time we arrived, I was far too sick for our booked three-day trek into the frigid Bolivian desert. I had to stay in town and send John off to explore the high desert salt flats on his own. The town associated with the Salt Flats is the weirdest town I've ever been to. I was fortunate to find a hostel with hosts that took me under their wings as a 4th child. They tended to me with care and love, giving me hot water bottles for my feet and head, offering me tea all day long, making certain I was toasty, fed and warm. There is no central heating in most places in South America, so when it is cold, it is frigid. The heater, aside from the hot tea and hot water bottles was a propane tank. Don't get me started on the shower situation ;) My hosts called me "Lolita" with great affection and I already miss their genuine kindness and generous actions of love.
I'm not naming the town, not because you can't Google it, but because it was one of the many places we went where it was impossible to deny the devastating impact of Instagram tourism. Tourism is largely responsible for the miles of trash leading up to the town and scattered throughout the salt flats. When we were there, no regulations were placed on tour groups and there were hundreds, many who left their trash in the salt flats. These lacking regulations also accounted for the high number of alcohol related accidents. Death was a possibly with tour groups lacking reviews or with questionable reputations. A German woman in our hostel had been in one of these accidents and had broken her arm. In the months since, there have been actions taken to require formal permitting and regulations put in place to protect the land, the health of the locals and the safety of tourists.
By the 2nd to last day, I felt better and took a day trip into the salt flats—I’d come too far to miss it! On my tour, I found two women a woman from Mexico and a local from Boliva who, through the duration of the day, we became kindred friends and with whom I have stayed connected.
When I returned from the day trip to the salt flats, I was met by John, who I hadn’t seen or talked to in three days. A sight for sore eyes. Nothing like a little distance to remind us how much we love our people.
The salt flats were remarkable. Stunning and heartbreaking—which seems to be the paradox of the entire journey, really. It is hard to put into words, but my favorite moment was on our return to town at sunset, when our driver stopped the car, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and we watched as the sun gently kissed the salt covered ground. There was no sound, no sense of familiar space—it was utterly breathtaking. It felt miraculous until the sun slipped beyond the horizon. Then it felt uninhabitable.
The next day we headed off for La Paz. La Paz is the weirdest city I’ve ever been to. Think Mars. I can’t really describe it but something about it made me restless and uneasy. Not a fear for my safety, more so, a sense that a single earthquake there could destroy the entire city in less than a minute. Most of Bolivia gave me that restless feeling. A feeling of human vulnerability in nature’s great power. More so than any other place I’ve ever traveled. The lack of water throughout Bolivia, dried up rivers and in La Paz, the built, complex world tucked into every nook and cranny of red-Earthed mountains and down, deep into craggy valleys. No natural green. Only landscaped green
I suppose I felt thirsty deep in my bones.
The apartment we stayed in was one of our all-time favorites and felt like pure luxury. Another mini-moon.
From La Paz we traveled to Copacabana. A small village on the edge of Lake Titicaca. Our bus had to leave at 4AM (3 hours early) due to planned protests that would shut down the road to Lake Titicaca. My time at Lake Titicaca was more heartbreaking than joyful. I’d imagined it would be an oasis of beauty and wonder. The place where dehydrated Bolivia can take a refreshing drink of water. What caught me off-guard was the immeasurable pollution problem. In fact, all of Bolivia has a serious, nature- and life-threatening pollution problem. Despite having a program for collecting garbage, recycling, organics, etc., people continue to throw their trash out the window or drive out of town a bit, and dump. This means every natural place in Bolivia is covered in trash. To be fair, some is just a sprinkling of trash—but trash (plastic) is everywhere. The towns are spotless, but between towns, litter is pervasive. When we arrived in Copacabana, litter covered the trails to the lake, the lake itself and the nearby cemeteries which overlook the lake. We watched families come to pay their respects to their deceased loved ones, and leave all of their picnic garbage on the ground when they were done. It was confusing and heartbreaking. It is too easy to judge. So, please be cautious of doing so, as I have strived to do. There is more to this story—we're just not privy to it. Part of being in a place like Bolivia for such a short time, there's no way to learn the why or how to make it better.
By the time we arrived in Isla del Sol, a small island on Lake Titicaca, I was exhausted body, mind and spirit. As was John. We were only on the island for a day, then headed back to Copacabana where we caught the bus to Perú.
Bolivia tested me. It offered some of the most beautiful encounters and moments juxtaposed with a relentless and eerie quality of malignant disharmony. I was relieved to set foot in Perú and yet, I am deeply thankful for my month in Bolivia. What stretches us, grows us.