"Sometimes those who wander really are lost."
For my last few weeks here in South America I have been in Sucre, a town I loved the last time I was here because of how safe and relaxing it is. I have been in the best hostel with awesome people, and for the first time in a long time I have had fun doing almost nothing. This is a place where lots of people get stuck, meaning, that they say they will stay a few days or a week, and end up staying much longer. My days involved Spanish classes, volunteering, and a lot of hanging out. Sometimes we (a group from the hostel) would go to the park and juggle, make dinner together, or just hang out in the nice outside courtyard. We also visited waterfalls, and did a two day hike through little villages. Besides that, I just spent most of the day reading before going out at night with people from the hostel. Since I don't have much to say about the last few weeks, here is a little cultural bit.
Mines-
Potosi, known to be the highest city in the world, is also a huge mining town. There is a tour you can do to visit these mines, but I opted out of doing it because you go down, watch, and take pictures of people working in some of the worst possible conditions. One night they showed a very touching documentary about these mines, especially the kids working in them, so I thought I would share it with everyone else.
This documentary followed a family, a fourteen year old boy (who is seen as the dad of the family and their source of income), his ten year old brother, their little sister, and their mother. They all live in a small one room hut right next to the mines. The mom is a guard and is in charge of making sure no one steals from the mines, while the two young boys head off to work, everyday and sometimes night, in the mines. There is no way to describe the conditions but this, the miners life expectancy is thirty years (they die from lung diseases because of all the dust) if they don't die before that from an accident, something very common down there. As it follows his life in the mine, you see the reactions from the other miners that a kid so young is forced to work, and they aren't surprised. Though they all hate it and wish it would change, he is not the only kid working down there. The fourteen year old is also in school. He describes school as a vacation, and he hopes to finish high school and university so that he won't ever have to return to the mines again. Since he has to pay his school clothes, he is forced to work longer and longer hours. At his old mine, he was only making 2.50$ a day, so he went to a larger, more dangerous one, where he could make 4$ a day. This fourteen year old provides money for his family, goes to school, and protects his young siblings as if he was the father. Though he would do anything to me a normal kid, he is doing all this so that someday they can move to the city, and leave the mines in the past. This is one of countless examples on how kids here are forced to live... They don't live to play like kids in the west, they live to survive.
Though I have loved South America, I am ready for the last part of my trip: the beaches! I will be back here someday as I have a mountain left to climb in Peru, and a lot more to see in Argentina and Chile (and especially Patagonia!), but for now, I am off to Central America!
Showing posts with label Bolivia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bolivia. Show all posts
March 12, 2012
February 23, 2012
Carnival!
"To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted."
War, that's what carnival is, war. The week before carnival was crazy as well. Everywhere you went you were sprayed by fake snow and water, sometimes with up to six or seven people getting you at the same time (granted, being a light haired "gringa" really doesn't help things). There were also a few huge parades, one of which lasted all day and night, and the other was to bring all the people from the countryside into the city for carnival. Both of which involved traditional dancing, music, lots of drinking, and of course, water fights. By this time I had met up with three awesome Canadians, and we spent the days before hand wandering around spraying people, eating all the street food we saw, and playing cards. Then it started.
Carnival itself is huge parades, all day and night, with crazy costumes. There were hundreds of thousands of people in Oruro, and just getting through the city took hours (literally). Everyone, and I mean everyone, had a water gun and spray can, and seeing as we were four tourists (the boys were all over 6ft, something that really stands out here) we were quite the target. Though, we also made quite the team. Every time someone got us, we all attacked and the person always walked (well ran really) away completely soaked and full of foam. We spent the days watching the parades, getting sprayed, and just hanging out. Though it was cool to see, it is very intense, and after a few days is quite enough.
After that, I came here to Sucre (of course, for some unknown reason there were no buses here so I had to take a bus somewhere else before finding a car that would take me the rest of the way, good old Bolivia) to escape the water and foam. Not. Because from the second I arrived, I was pegged with water balloons. For the two days following carnival, everyone was still drunk and apparently the huge fight hadn't ceased at all. Sick of being wet all the time, I spent the two days in a nice little French cafe. Now I am taking Spanish classes again, and plan on volunteering for the next week in an orphanage.
P.S. There are not very many pictures from carnival as it was not safe at all to have my camera out, and I haven't been able to put them on my site yet because even when I find wifi it's too slow.
War, that's what carnival is, war. The week before carnival was crazy as well. Everywhere you went you were sprayed by fake snow and water, sometimes with up to six or seven people getting you at the same time (granted, being a light haired "gringa" really doesn't help things). There were also a few huge parades, one of which lasted all day and night, and the other was to bring all the people from the countryside into the city for carnival. Both of which involved traditional dancing, music, lots of drinking, and of course, water fights. By this time I had met up with three awesome Canadians, and we spent the days before hand wandering around spraying people, eating all the street food we saw, and playing cards. Then it started.
Carnival itself is huge parades, all day and night, with crazy costumes. There were hundreds of thousands of people in Oruro, and just getting through the city took hours (literally). Everyone, and I mean everyone, had a water gun and spray can, and seeing as we were four tourists (the boys were all over 6ft, something that really stands out here) we were quite the target. Though, we also made quite the team. Every time someone got us, we all attacked and the person always walked (well ran really) away completely soaked and full of foam. We spent the days watching the parades, getting sprayed, and just hanging out. Though it was cool to see, it is very intense, and after a few days is quite enough.
After that, I came here to Sucre (of course, for some unknown reason there were no buses here so I had to take a bus somewhere else before finding a car that would take me the rest of the way, good old Bolivia) to escape the water and foam. Not. Because from the second I arrived, I was pegged with water balloons. For the two days following carnival, everyone was still drunk and apparently the huge fight hadn't ceased at all. Sick of being wet all the time, I spent the two days in a nice little French cafe. Now I am taking Spanish classes again, and plan on volunteering for the next week in an orphanage.
P.S. There are not very many pictures from carnival as it was not safe at all to have my camera out, and I haven't been able to put them on my site yet because even when I find wifi it's too slow.
BBQs, hitchhiking, and back to Bolivia
“The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where a man can lose himself."
Over six months on the road now and still loving it! On the one hand I feel like have been doing this forever, I can't imagine living any other kind of life, but on the other, six months is a pretty good chunk of time, and I feel like I have just arrived considering how much more there is to see.
After arriving in Salta, a large town in Argentina, we decided to stay in a hostel since two out of the three of us only had hammocks and it was raining everyday. We became friends with the owners (a very young couple) and ended up having an Argentinian BBQ with them one night. The steaks really are as good as they say, and, like always here, we only started to eat at midnight. From there we (still with the two crazy French guys), hitchhiked our way down to a lake. There was no one there, and we were able to cross (there was a part where the water only went up to mid stomach) and sleep on an island. After that we made our way down to another town farther south. By then the French guy without a tent had bought one, so we were able to stay in campings again. For my birthday, the guys did an Argentinean BBQ (in the pouring rain) and we drank Argentinean wine all night. A few days later we started out on a day trip that we thought was an easy hike to a waterfall, but ended up being an all day very hard excursion that involved crossing a river over a dozen times (very strong current, water up past my chest), and very dangerous climbs with nothing underneath. Unfortunately, on one of the river crossing I slipped pretty bad while jumping onto a rock and ended up spraining my knee, so I never made it to the waterfall.
I decided from there to head back up to Bolivia as the French guys continued down, so I spent two straight days on the bus (unfortunately hitchhiking alone is not a smart plan). An hour away from my destination here in Bolivia, we got stopped because the miners were on strike, again. By this time it was 22h, and we ended up spending the night in the bus waiting and hoping that they would let up, which of course, they didn't. In the morning at about 6h as the sun began to rise, everyone (there were kilometers of busses and trucks stuck on both sides) came out to see what was going on. Along with thousands of others, we walked over two hours to cross to the other side where some of the busses were turning around to give up. Finally, over twelve hours after I should have arrived, I made it to Oruro. The day after I arrived here, February tenth, I woke up to fire crackers (here they sound like gun shots) and music, the kind you hear in a parade. Sure enough, there was a parade that lasted over five hours and involved just about everyone you could think of. There was the army (sadly have no pictures from this part cause we were packed so tightly I couldn't reach into my bag to grab my camera), scouts, fruit sellers, miners, students, and everyone in-between. I later found out that it was Oruro's birthday, hence the big celebration. Also, all this week there has been an ongoing water fight all over the city. Every kid and student has a water bottle or water gun (as well as spray soap), and it seems like just about everyone participates. The first few days I was safe, but after that I guess a target appeared on my head since I was getting sprayed, with water and soap, constantly. This is all in preparation for carnival, which is a huge celebration here... One of the biggest in the world!
Since I haven't had wifi, I am posting this, which was written a few weeks ago, as well as my newest entry.
Over six months on the road now and still loving it! On the one hand I feel like have been doing this forever, I can't imagine living any other kind of life, but on the other, six months is a pretty good chunk of time, and I feel like I have just arrived considering how much more there is to see.
After arriving in Salta, a large town in Argentina, we decided to stay in a hostel since two out of the three of us only had hammocks and it was raining everyday. We became friends with the owners (a very young couple) and ended up having an Argentinian BBQ with them one night. The steaks really are as good as they say, and, like always here, we only started to eat at midnight. From there we (still with the two crazy French guys), hitchhiked our way down to a lake. There was no one there, and we were able to cross (there was a part where the water only went up to mid stomach) and sleep on an island. After that we made our way down to another town farther south. By then the French guy without a tent had bought one, so we were able to stay in campings again. For my birthday, the guys did an Argentinean BBQ (in the pouring rain) and we drank Argentinean wine all night. A few days later we started out on a day trip that we thought was an easy hike to a waterfall, but ended up being an all day very hard excursion that involved crossing a river over a dozen times (very strong current, water up past my chest), and very dangerous climbs with nothing underneath. Unfortunately, on one of the river crossing I slipped pretty bad while jumping onto a rock and ended up spraining my knee, so I never made it to the waterfall.
I decided from there to head back up to Bolivia as the French guys continued down, so I spent two straight days on the bus (unfortunately hitchhiking alone is not a smart plan). An hour away from my destination here in Bolivia, we got stopped because the miners were on strike, again. By this time it was 22h, and we ended up spending the night in the bus waiting and hoping that they would let up, which of course, they didn't. In the morning at about 6h as the sun began to rise, everyone (there were kilometers of busses and trucks stuck on both sides) came out to see what was going on. Along with thousands of others, we walked over two hours to cross to the other side where some of the busses were turning around to give up. Finally, over twelve hours after I should have arrived, I made it to Oruro. The day after I arrived here, February tenth, I woke up to fire crackers (here they sound like gun shots) and music, the kind you hear in a parade. Sure enough, there was a parade that lasted over five hours and involved just about everyone you could think of. There was the army (sadly have no pictures from this part cause we were packed so tightly I couldn't reach into my bag to grab my camera), scouts, fruit sellers, miners, students, and everyone in-between. I later found out that it was Oruro's birthday, hence the big celebration. Also, all this week there has been an ongoing water fight all over the city. Every kid and student has a water bottle or water gun (as well as spray soap), and it seems like just about everyone participates. The first few days I was safe, but after that I guess a target appeared on my head since I was getting sprayed, with water and soap, constantly. This is all in preparation for carnival, which is a huge celebration here... One of the biggest in the world!
Since I haven't had wifi, I am posting this, which was written a few weeks ago, as well as my newest entry.
February 1, 2012
The largest salt flat in the world and the adventures of a hitchhiker
"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving."
After leaving Sucre, I spent a few days in a small cowboy town in southern Bolivia. While walking around this funny town, I met up with a French couple and French guy I had spent the time in Sucre with, so, when they left to visit the famous Salar de Uyuni, I followed along. In our 4X4 it was us, and a Belgian, which made for a very good group. It was a four day trip through the desert (at 5,000m), and then through a part of the largest salt flat in the world (sadly, because it's the rainy season, we didn't get to go all the way through). The salt flat is literally as it sounds, an immense area covered with salt. In the dry season, it is blindingly white, while in the rainy season, it turns into a lake in parts. We also spent the night in a hotel made solely of salt, everything from the bed, to the chairs, to the walls. It was definitely one of the most stunning things I have seen.
After catching a bus at 3h (I don't know why their busses can't be at more convenient times), we arrived at the border (with Chile) in the morning, where we saw corruption at work as always in Bolivia. To leave, they were asking 15 bolivianos, about two dollars, which isn't much for us, but if a hundred people pass, that's two hundred dollars (more than most people there make in a month). Sure, we could spare the money, but knowing it was free, we politely but firmly refused. When the guy insisted, we asked for a receipt, which obviously didn't exist. He let us through saying he would mark on his computer (that was off) that we had not paid. Yeah right. After a few more hours of waiting, we passed into Chile. Overall it took over five hours to do that one small km. From there we entered into the driest desert in the world. There was literally nothing, no towns, no animals, no vegetation, just desert and blue sky. I spent most of my time in a hammock during the day since it was too hot to venture out, but in the morning and night it was cool and we were able to explore a bit the vast desert around us. We (the French and I) were staying in a camping, something that exists all through Argentina and Chile. It is literally a campground in or just outside the city, that is much cheaper than the outrageously expensive hostels. It was also a nice change, and I plan on always staying in campings while in this part of the continent.
On the day we left Chile (the rest of that country will be for next trip), we left at six in order to be the first at the boarder since we wanted to hitchhike with a trucker. They turned us away from entering and getting stamped since we didn't have any transportation arranged (and the next village, or life what so ever was more than 200km away through the desert), but luckily we were able to find one to take us so we turned right around and hopped in with him. Normally when you take a truck it takes twice as long, but with our driver, it was twice as fast! We arrived about 150km from our destination, and tried to catch another ride to Salta that night with no luck (no one was going that way). To catch a ride, I had a sign saying Salta and I would jump aroundand follow every car that past. Though we had no luck, everyone waved and laughed when they saw us, and I had a great time doing it. We were right in front of people selling bread and donuts, and apparently they found us amusing as well because they gave us free food every hour. The also let us set up our hammocks for the night in their stand, but while we were doing that, someone came out of their house and invited us to eat with them, and camp out in their back yard. In that first day here in Argentina, we saw just how different the people here are. In the Andean countries, the people could care less that you are there, and many are rude. Here on the other hand, when you take out a map, you have someone right there beside you asking if you need help, and after helping you, they walk you part of the way as well. It is definitely a nice change.
After camping the night in someone backyard, we decided we liked the area and ended up camping close to a lake the next night. After that, we successfully hitchhiked out to Salta, were we are currency staying (I'm still with the French). Pretty soon we will hitchhike on out to, well, that's the thing about hitchhiking, you never quite know where you will end up!
After leaving Sucre, I spent a few days in a small cowboy town in southern Bolivia. While walking around this funny town, I met up with a French couple and French guy I had spent the time in Sucre with, so, when they left to visit the famous Salar de Uyuni, I followed along. In our 4X4 it was us, and a Belgian, which made for a very good group. It was a four day trip through the desert (at 5,000m), and then through a part of the largest salt flat in the world (sadly, because it's the rainy season, we didn't get to go all the way through). The salt flat is literally as it sounds, an immense area covered with salt. In the dry season, it is blindingly white, while in the rainy season, it turns into a lake in parts. We also spent the night in a hotel made solely of salt, everything from the bed, to the chairs, to the walls. It was definitely one of the most stunning things I have seen.
After catching a bus at 3h (I don't know why their busses can't be at more convenient times), we arrived at the border (with Chile) in the morning, where we saw corruption at work as always in Bolivia. To leave, they were asking 15 bolivianos, about two dollars, which isn't much for us, but if a hundred people pass, that's two hundred dollars (more than most people there make in a month). Sure, we could spare the money, but knowing it was free, we politely but firmly refused. When the guy insisted, we asked for a receipt, which obviously didn't exist. He let us through saying he would mark on his computer (that was off) that we had not paid. Yeah right. After a few more hours of waiting, we passed into Chile. Overall it took over five hours to do that one small km. From there we entered into the driest desert in the world. There was literally nothing, no towns, no animals, no vegetation, just desert and blue sky. I spent most of my time in a hammock during the day since it was too hot to venture out, but in the morning and night it was cool and we were able to explore a bit the vast desert around us. We (the French and I) were staying in a camping, something that exists all through Argentina and Chile. It is literally a campground in or just outside the city, that is much cheaper than the outrageously expensive hostels. It was also a nice change, and I plan on always staying in campings while in this part of the continent.
On the day we left Chile (the rest of that country will be for next trip), we left at six in order to be the first at the boarder since we wanted to hitchhike with a trucker. They turned us away from entering and getting stamped since we didn't have any transportation arranged (and the next village, or life what so ever was more than 200km away through the desert), but luckily we were able to find one to take us so we turned right around and hopped in with him. Normally when you take a truck it takes twice as long, but with our driver, it was twice as fast! We arrived about 150km from our destination, and tried to catch another ride to Salta that night with no luck (no one was going that way). To catch a ride, I had a sign saying Salta and I would jump aroundand follow every car that past. Though we had no luck, everyone waved and laughed when they saw us, and I had a great time doing it. We were right in front of people selling bread and donuts, and apparently they found us amusing as well because they gave us free food every hour. The also let us set up our hammocks for the night in their stand, but while we were doing that, someone came out of their house and invited us to eat with them, and camp out in their back yard. In that first day here in Argentina, we saw just how different the people here are. In the Andean countries, the people could care less that you are there, and many are rude. Here on the other hand, when you take out a map, you have someone right there beside you asking if you need help, and after helping you, they walk you part of the way as well. It is definitely a nice change.
After camping the night in someone backyard, we decided we liked the area and ended up camping close to a lake the next night. After that, we successfully hitchhiked out to Salta, were we are currency staying (I'm still with the French). Pretty soon we will hitchhike on out to, well, that's the thing about hitchhiking, you never quite know where you will end up!
January 14, 2012
My new home
"Don't underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."
Yes, that's right, I am actually staying in a place long enough to call it home! After over four months of bouncing around cities every few days or weeks, it is nice to have a place that I really know. As people who have travelled this way know, it does get a bit tiring after a while, so this break here has been nice. I am definitely ready to start traveling again now though!
I have been staying in a home stay, a family of normally two (a middle age married couple) that has been a family of ten or more for the holidays, including two kids who love playing with me. Their house is in the countryside, about a thirty minute bus ride away from the center of town, which has been nice since towns here are so polluted. The first couple days here in Sucre I took Spanish classes, and wandered around for the rest of the day, getting lost, and trying to find my way around. Luckily me getting lost all the time ended up being a very good thing here. On one of my little adventures near my house I saw white people (very strange considering where I was living). They apparently thought it was strange as well, and stopped to ask me who I was. I quickly found out that I was right in front of an orphanage, and they were a group of people who visit two weeks every year (they are from a church that supports the orphanage). I went in, met the kids, and ended up going back almost everyday of my stay.
There are three houses (all together, with a large courtyard and playground as well) with 8-10 kids, and a "Tia" (aunt) in each one. It is a great set up since this way the kids live in their family, but still get to play with the other kids all the time. I have never seen kids who play together and take care of each other like these ones do. Though these kids have horrific stories, that us in the west can hardly contemplate, they are now extremely well cared for and have a better life than most kids here in Bolivia. The kids cook (there were eight year olds teaching me to cook different meals everyday), clean, go to school, and basically just spend the whole day playing together. I have been teaching the older kids English (they all really want to learn, and the little ones are mad they aren't allowed in class), and the rest of the time we play football and jump on the trampoline.
The weather here in Sucre is perfect, normally sunny (occasionally the crazy downpour), with a cool breeze and during the day between 20-25 (and cooler at night). The city is also beautiful. This has got to be my favorite one yet, and I love having my different "places" here. In the market, I have a fruit lady who I visit multiple times a day for jugos and delicious fruit salads, and I found a small restaurant "le petit Parisian" where I am buddies with the owners and go often for dinner or just to hang out.
As much as I like it here, I am ready to move, so in a few days I am going to take off to Tupiza, a small town (at 4,000m) in an extremely high desert. I hope to do some hikes and maybe even a few days on a horse (never been into horses, but I figure I gotta try it at some point). I am planning to return to Sucre in a month or so, after I have visited a bit of Argentina, but who knows if that will really happen, as always, my plans change every few days.
Yes, that's right, I am actually staying in a place long enough to call it home! After over four months of bouncing around cities every few days or weeks, it is nice to have a place that I really know. As people who have travelled this way know, it does get a bit tiring after a while, so this break here has been nice. I am definitely ready to start traveling again now though!
I have been staying in a home stay, a family of normally two (a middle age married couple) that has been a family of ten or more for the holidays, including two kids who love playing with me. Their house is in the countryside, about a thirty minute bus ride away from the center of town, which has been nice since towns here are so polluted. The first couple days here in Sucre I took Spanish classes, and wandered around for the rest of the day, getting lost, and trying to find my way around. Luckily me getting lost all the time ended up being a very good thing here. On one of my little adventures near my house I saw white people (very strange considering where I was living). They apparently thought it was strange as well, and stopped to ask me who I was. I quickly found out that I was right in front of an orphanage, and they were a group of people who visit two weeks every year (they are from a church that supports the orphanage). I went in, met the kids, and ended up going back almost everyday of my stay.
There are three houses (all together, with a large courtyard and playground as well) with 8-10 kids, and a "Tia" (aunt) in each one. It is a great set up since this way the kids live in their family, but still get to play with the other kids all the time. I have never seen kids who play together and take care of each other like these ones do. Though these kids have horrific stories, that us in the west can hardly contemplate, they are now extremely well cared for and have a better life than most kids here in Bolivia. The kids cook (there were eight year olds teaching me to cook different meals everyday), clean, go to school, and basically just spend the whole day playing together. I have been teaching the older kids English (they all really want to learn, and the little ones are mad they aren't allowed in class), and the rest of the time we play football and jump on the trampoline.
The weather here in Sucre is perfect, normally sunny (occasionally the crazy downpour), with a cool breeze and during the day between 20-25 (and cooler at night). The city is also beautiful. This has got to be my favorite one yet, and I love having my different "places" here. In the market, I have a fruit lady who I visit multiple times a day for jugos and delicious fruit salads, and I found a small restaurant "le petit Parisian" where I am buddies with the owners and go often for dinner or just to hang out.
As much as I like it here, I am ready to move, so in a few days I am going to take off to Tupiza, a small town (at 4,000m) in an extremely high desert. I hope to do some hikes and maybe even a few days on a horse (never been into horses, but I figure I gotta try it at some point). I am planning to return to Sucre in a month or so, after I have visited a bit of Argentina, but who knows if that will really happen, as always, my plans change every few days.
December 28, 2011
Monkeyin' around
“Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do.”
For my last two weeks, I have been living amongst the monkeys, poisonous ants, and mosquitos in a village (more precisely in an animal refuge) in the jungle. At this refuge there were pumas, monkeys, and a bear, though I was working with the capuchin monkeys (there were also spider and squirrel monkeys that live in the area). We started at seven everyday, and throughout the day we cleaned three times, and fed them five (three meals and two snacks). Though it was work, and sometimes very hot, it was all worth it because we got to play with the little ones as well. At first I was shocked that the other volunteer in my section knew their names, I couldn't tell any of them apart, but by the end I knew not only their names, but also their personalities. Monkeys, especially these ones, are like humans- they cuddle and give hugs, they can be playful or calm, and they cry (and scream) when scared or angry. They are also all very different. Many of the males (especially the biggest ones) hates girls, apparently they are too macho like many of the men here. Because of this, there were many I couldn't feed or touch (I got bitten a few times, and my hair yanked out as well). There were some though, that I fell in love with. Pepe, a funny playful and cuddly monkey who was always sweet and wanted attention, and Dede, a crazy monkey who loved me, but liked to bite everyone else. Some of these monkeys were extremely smart, there were a few who would give you back their plates when they wanted more food for example. And, like in any community, there were the crazy ones. One, the biggest and meanest of them all, would put his blanket over his head and rock back and forth like a drunken man, and another one, who when you said her name and talked to her, would examine you closely while screaming (very loudly), just because that was her way of saying hello.
There were about thirty volunteers while I was there, some like me who were staying just two weeks, and others who have been there years. We would work all day, then go to dinner and drink at night, making the mornings a bit tough sometimes, especially after our huge Christmas dinner (which since we any started cooking after work, only started at 23h30). The most exciting thing besides the monkeys in the last two weeks was the fact that I finally got to ride on a motorcycle! Here, amazingly enough, taxis are motorcycles, how cool is that?
Now I am in Sucre, a beautiful city where I will spend the next month focusing on learning Spanish and volunteering in an orphanage. Luckily here I have a bed (unlike the straw I was sleeping on before) and the temperature is perfect, about 20c and sunny (with no insects! I have hundreds of bites from the jungle). I already love my home stay, and I even have a four year old sister and eight year old brother, whose goal is to teach me as much Spanish as he can, definitely the best Spanish teach I have ever had!
For my last two weeks, I have been living amongst the monkeys, poisonous ants, and mosquitos in a village (more precisely in an animal refuge) in the jungle. At this refuge there were pumas, monkeys, and a bear, though I was working with the capuchin monkeys (there were also spider and squirrel monkeys that live in the area). We started at seven everyday, and throughout the day we cleaned three times, and fed them five (three meals and two snacks). Though it was work, and sometimes very hot, it was all worth it because we got to play with the little ones as well. At first I was shocked that the other volunteer in my section knew their names, I couldn't tell any of them apart, but by the end I knew not only their names, but also their personalities. Monkeys, especially these ones, are like humans- they cuddle and give hugs, they can be playful or calm, and they cry (and scream) when scared or angry. They are also all very different. Many of the males (especially the biggest ones) hates girls, apparently they are too macho like many of the men here. Because of this, there were many I couldn't feed or touch (I got bitten a few times, and my hair yanked out as well). There were some though, that I fell in love with. Pepe, a funny playful and cuddly monkey who was always sweet and wanted attention, and Dede, a crazy monkey who loved me, but liked to bite everyone else. Some of these monkeys were extremely smart, there were a few who would give you back their plates when they wanted more food for example. And, like in any community, there were the crazy ones. One, the biggest and meanest of them all, would put his blanket over his head and rock back and forth like a drunken man, and another one, who when you said her name and talked to her, would examine you closely while screaming (very loudly), just because that was her way of saying hello.
There were about thirty volunteers while I was there, some like me who were staying just two weeks, and others who have been there years. We would work all day, then go to dinner and drink at night, making the mornings a bit tough sometimes, especially after our huge Christmas dinner (which since we any started cooking after work, only started at 23h30). The most exciting thing besides the monkeys in the last two weeks was the fact that I finally got to ride on a motorcycle! Here, amazingly enough, taxis are motorcycles, how cool is that?
Now I am in Sucre, a beautiful city where I will spend the next month focusing on learning Spanish and volunteering in an orphanage. Luckily here I have a bed (unlike the straw I was sleeping on before) and the temperature is perfect, about 20c and sunny (with no insects! I have hundreds of bites from the jungle). I already love my home stay, and I even have a four year old sister and eight year old brother, whose goal is to teach me as much Spanish as he can, definitely the best Spanish teach I have ever had!
December 10, 2011
Huayna Potosi (6,088)- learning a lesson
"Somewhere between the bottom of the climb and the summit is the answer to the mystery why we climb."
I set off with five other people a few days ago to climb Huanya Potosi, a mountain very close to La Paz. This was not going to be my hardest or highest climb, but just a climb to do because I was bored. After a two hour hike to the refugio, we hung out, ate dinner and went to bed, well, everyone else slept but I couldn't (I hadn't slept much the week before either). When we got up at midnight to climb, I felt sick but figured it would pass and that it was due to my lack of sleep. About an hour and a half into the climb, I was already ready to give up (it normally takes at least four hours before you realize how much it sucks). I was exhausted, with no energy, and I had a horrible stomach ache. I started to think about why the hell people climb mountains, and I was at a loss. I was tired, and didn't see the point of continuing as it was not going to be my highest or best climb yet, and I was missing my climbing buddy. So I did a very unlike Shirine thing and gave up 300m to the top. The person I was climbing with continued on, while I half slept, half watched the sunrise while sitting alone on the glacier (this was one of the most amazing things possible). By the time they came down to get me so we could all climb down, I regretted not making myself go to the top, and vowed never to give up like that again. All that day I was mad at myself for not making it when I knew I could have, so I decided to give it another shot, so, I headed off to that very same mountain, this time, with a very strong desire to make it to the top.
After the same walk to the refugio, I hung out with an awesome group of people (from all over Europe) and realized that part of the reason climbing is fun, is because you get to meet some of the awesomest people out there. After hardly any sleep (again) we set out at one. I was in the first group (climbing with a girl for my first time) and we did great. The first few hours I really enjoyed, and even though the last hour and a half was hard, it was all worth it to reach the top this time. We were the first group up (both of us being young girls, while the rest were boys in their twenties, take that boys) in a little less than five hours, right in time to see an amazing sunrise above the field of clouds below. The way down was fun, really fun. It was sunny (though a bit too hot) and we practically ran down the whole thing. We even stopped for a good half an hour at one point with another group just to sit on the glacier, enjoy the sun, and throw a few snowballs. This was the first time I had really enjoyed mountain climbing since Huraz.
I just climbed the same mountain twice (and had the same weather each time) but yet I had extremely different experiences. This just goes to show that climbing is more mental than anything else. As long as your brain still tells your legs to move, they can always take one more step. Sometimes, like this time, climbing is actually fun. Other times though, you are tired, too hot or cold, and miserable. That's when you start to question why the hell people do this, force themselves step after step to get to the top. What's the point really? I still haven't figure that out, and I don't think I ever will, but still something keeps pulling people like me back to the mountains to climb over and over again, and in the end, only the best parts stay with you.
I set off with five other people a few days ago to climb Huanya Potosi, a mountain very close to La Paz. This was not going to be my hardest or highest climb, but just a climb to do because I was bored. After a two hour hike to the refugio, we hung out, ate dinner and went to bed, well, everyone else slept but I couldn't (I hadn't slept much the week before either). When we got up at midnight to climb, I felt sick but figured it would pass and that it was due to my lack of sleep. About an hour and a half into the climb, I was already ready to give up (it normally takes at least four hours before you realize how much it sucks). I was exhausted, with no energy, and I had a horrible stomach ache. I started to think about why the hell people climb mountains, and I was at a loss. I was tired, and didn't see the point of continuing as it was not going to be my highest or best climb yet, and I was missing my climbing buddy. So I did a very unlike Shirine thing and gave up 300m to the top. The person I was climbing with continued on, while I half slept, half watched the sunrise while sitting alone on the glacier (this was one of the most amazing things possible). By the time they came down to get me so we could all climb down, I regretted not making myself go to the top, and vowed never to give up like that again. All that day I was mad at myself for not making it when I knew I could have, so I decided to give it another shot, so, I headed off to that very same mountain, this time, with a very strong desire to make it to the top.
After the same walk to the refugio, I hung out with an awesome group of people (from all over Europe) and realized that part of the reason climbing is fun, is because you get to meet some of the awesomest people out there. After hardly any sleep (again) we set out at one. I was in the first group (climbing with a girl for my first time) and we did great. The first few hours I really enjoyed, and even though the last hour and a half was hard, it was all worth it to reach the top this time. We were the first group up (both of us being young girls, while the rest were boys in their twenties, take that boys) in a little less than five hours, right in time to see an amazing sunrise above the field of clouds below. The way down was fun, really fun. It was sunny (though a bit too hot) and we practically ran down the whole thing. We even stopped for a good half an hour at one point with another group just to sit on the glacier, enjoy the sun, and throw a few snowballs. This was the first time I had really enjoyed mountain climbing since Huraz.
I just climbed the same mountain twice (and had the same weather each time) but yet I had extremely different experiences. This just goes to show that climbing is more mental than anything else. As long as your brain still tells your legs to move, they can always take one more step. Sometimes, like this time, climbing is actually fun. Other times though, you are tired, too hot or cold, and miserable. That's when you start to question why the hell people do this, force themselves step after step to get to the top. What's the point really? I still haven't figure that out, and I don't think I ever will, but still something keeps pulling people like me back to the mountains to climb over and over again, and in the end, only the best parts stay with you.
December 4, 2011
Spanish and a bit of culture
"If you ask me why I travel, I would ask you why you breathe.”
This week I have been doing Spanish, Spanish, and more Spanish. After three or four hours at my Spanish school, I have been going to my teachers house to get extra lessons. She is young (twenty five, with a two year old kid), and by far the best Spanish teacher I have had yet. Though I still have a long way to go, this week definitely helped to improve my Spanish. I have also been living in a home stay for a change from all the hostels these last few months. Though mostly all I did this week besides Spanish was wander around, sit in plazas and people watch, and buy alpaca cloths, I did go out one night to a football match. It was an important game here in Bolivia, and it was very fun to see. The ambiance was infectious, and I ended up picking and rooting for a team even though I knew nothing about either of them. It was definitely different than the games I have been to in Europe though. For one, there was no alcohol, and it was the traditionally dressed ladies who were selling food and drinks. Also, there were hundreds of police officers in the stadium, about fifty on the field, and the rest in the stands (on duty). Besides that though, it was like anywhere else, with thousands of people chanting and yelling for their team.
Since I don't have much to say about this week, I will write instead about some of the things I have noticed in my almost four months of traveling.
The people- There are many traditionally dressed woman everywhere, in the cities as well as in the country, especially here in Bolivia. There are also beggars everywhere (much more here than in the other countries as it is the poorest country in South America). Often they are older and obviously sick, but there are also a fair number of children. One step up from a beggar are the street sellers of useless things. For instance it's not unusual to see a five or six year old selling shoe laces, or trying to get you to weigh yourself on their scale. Then there are the shoe cleaners who you pass every few minutes. They ask anyone and everyone who passes whether you want your shoes cleaned, and a surprising amount of locals take them up on the offer. Almost all of these guys wear masks, which I found out was because they are drug addicts and don't want to show their face. Sometimes these guys have two or three small children at their feet as well.
The food- In my last two countries as well as here, the food has been rice, chicken, meat, and fried fish. Here though, everything is extremely fried. For example, an egg here is fried in a pool of oil, so it turns into a spongy oil filed egg. They eat sausages, hamburgers, and fries, not the healthiest diet. Even though fruits and veggies are so fresh, cheap, and abundant here, they never seem to appear in their meal plan. There is something called "the meal of the day" in all of South America, that you can buy for a dollar or two from the market or little restaurants. There are normally three to seven options for the main meal, and it always comes with a soup. There are also ladies everywhere that sell smaller snack foods (such as empanadas, kebabs, stuffed potatoes...) as well as fresh juices (fresh squeezed orange juice is the most common, but there are also stands with any fruit you could think of).
Transportation- People don't have their own cars here, so the streets are filled with taxis and collectivos. Taxis, which only coast a dollar or two to go anywhere, are a very convenient way to get around, though lately I have taken to using the very very cheap collectivos. These are vans, stuffed with as many people will fit, that seem to go all over town. They have six or seven signs on them naming places, so you flag down the one that looks like it's going where you want (they don't always end up exactly where you had hoped) and you hop on. Often the person collecting the money and opening the door is a kid, sometimes as young as six or seven. Also, for long distances, busses are extremely cheap (until you get down to Argentina). You can count on the equivalent of a dollar per hour (a ten hour bus ride is ten dollars) though you have to pay a bit more if you want to go in comfort. Here in Bolivia only about thirty percent of the roads are paved, and sometimes they don't even go on dirt paths, they make up their own way. Now that it is the rainy season, I might have some trouble getting around since sometimes the roads are flooded for days.
Everyday differences- Toilet paper doesn't exist here. Well ok, it does, but it is never in the bathrooms so you always have to have your own supply on you. There are no traffic rules. Here in La Paz there are no stop signs, so the cars just have to push their way though, it's a traffic nightmare. Also, you have to haggle here, especially being white (because some of them try and give you tourist prices). In the market as well as in big stores (except for grocery stores), nothing has a fixed price. Lastly, it is dirty, very dirty here. Sadly, people dump their trash into the river (which smells and looks like a sewage pipe) and leave it on the streets. At night, the dogs (which there are hundreds of) and homeless people tear through the bags trying to find something to eat.
Well today I decided this whole being bored relaxing doing nothing thing is not going over so well for me, so I am going to go climb a mountain. Because of the weather, I was originally going to skip this one (and actually be done for the season), but I have changed my mind.
Amusing side note (this sort of thing has happened on countless occasions): Today I was talking to the lady who runs my Spanish school, and she asked me where I am from. I answered back with Estados Unidos, after which she proceeded to ask me whether I was anything else as well. I told her that I am Canadian, to which she answered, ah well that makes more sense, you don't act like an American at all. This is not the first time someone has brought up the fact that I can't really be an American, but must be something else. They also can't say my name here, so I have currently taken to introducing myself as "Shi." I knew I should have changed my name before coming!
This week I have been doing Spanish, Spanish, and more Spanish. After three or four hours at my Spanish school, I have been going to my teachers house to get extra lessons. She is young (twenty five, with a two year old kid), and by far the best Spanish teacher I have had yet. Though I still have a long way to go, this week definitely helped to improve my Spanish. I have also been living in a home stay for a change from all the hostels these last few months. Though mostly all I did this week besides Spanish was wander around, sit in plazas and people watch, and buy alpaca cloths, I did go out one night to a football match. It was an important game here in Bolivia, and it was very fun to see. The ambiance was infectious, and I ended up picking and rooting for a team even though I knew nothing about either of them. It was definitely different than the games I have been to in Europe though. For one, there was no alcohol, and it was the traditionally dressed ladies who were selling food and drinks. Also, there were hundreds of police officers in the stadium, about fifty on the field, and the rest in the stands (on duty). Besides that though, it was like anywhere else, with thousands of people chanting and yelling for their team.
Since I don't have much to say about this week, I will write instead about some of the things I have noticed in my almost four months of traveling.
The people- There are many traditionally dressed woman everywhere, in the cities as well as in the country, especially here in Bolivia. There are also beggars everywhere (much more here than in the other countries as it is the poorest country in South America). Often they are older and obviously sick, but there are also a fair number of children. One step up from a beggar are the street sellers of useless things. For instance it's not unusual to see a five or six year old selling shoe laces, or trying to get you to weigh yourself on their scale. Then there are the shoe cleaners who you pass every few minutes. They ask anyone and everyone who passes whether you want your shoes cleaned, and a surprising amount of locals take them up on the offer. Almost all of these guys wear masks, which I found out was because they are drug addicts and don't want to show their face. Sometimes these guys have two or three small children at their feet as well.
The food- In my last two countries as well as here, the food has been rice, chicken, meat, and fried fish. Here though, everything is extremely fried. For example, an egg here is fried in a pool of oil, so it turns into a spongy oil filed egg. They eat sausages, hamburgers, and fries, not the healthiest diet. Even though fruits and veggies are so fresh, cheap, and abundant here, they never seem to appear in their meal plan. There is something called "the meal of the day" in all of South America, that you can buy for a dollar or two from the market or little restaurants. There are normally three to seven options for the main meal, and it always comes with a soup. There are also ladies everywhere that sell smaller snack foods (such as empanadas, kebabs, stuffed potatoes...) as well as fresh juices (fresh squeezed orange juice is the most common, but there are also stands with any fruit you could think of).
Transportation- People don't have their own cars here, so the streets are filled with taxis and collectivos. Taxis, which only coast a dollar or two to go anywhere, are a very convenient way to get around, though lately I have taken to using the very very cheap collectivos. These are vans, stuffed with as many people will fit, that seem to go all over town. They have six or seven signs on them naming places, so you flag down the one that looks like it's going where you want (they don't always end up exactly where you had hoped) and you hop on. Often the person collecting the money and opening the door is a kid, sometimes as young as six or seven. Also, for long distances, busses are extremely cheap (until you get down to Argentina). You can count on the equivalent of a dollar per hour (a ten hour bus ride is ten dollars) though you have to pay a bit more if you want to go in comfort. Here in Bolivia only about thirty percent of the roads are paved, and sometimes they don't even go on dirt paths, they make up their own way. Now that it is the rainy season, I might have some trouble getting around since sometimes the roads are flooded for days.
Everyday differences- Toilet paper doesn't exist here. Well ok, it does, but it is never in the bathrooms so you always have to have your own supply on you. There are no traffic rules. Here in La Paz there are no stop signs, so the cars just have to push their way though, it's a traffic nightmare. Also, you have to haggle here, especially being white (because some of them try and give you tourist prices). In the market as well as in big stores (except for grocery stores), nothing has a fixed price. Lastly, it is dirty, very dirty here. Sadly, people dump their trash into the river (which smells and looks like a sewage pipe) and leave it on the streets. At night, the dogs (which there are hundreds of) and homeless people tear through the bags trying to find something to eat.
Well today I decided this whole being bored relaxing doing nothing thing is not going over so well for me, so I am going to go climb a mountain. Because of the weather, I was originally going to skip this one (and actually be done for the season), but I have changed my mind.
Amusing side note (this sort of thing has happened on countless occasions): Today I was talking to the lady who runs my Spanish school, and she asked me where I am from. I answered back with Estados Unidos, after which she proceeded to ask me whether I was anything else as well. I told her that I am Canadian, to which she answered, ah well that makes more sense, you don't act like an American at all. This is not the first time someone has brought up the fact that I can't really be an American, but must be something else. They also can't say my name here, so I have currently taken to introducing myself as "Shi." I knew I should have changed my name before coming!
November 29, 2011
The end of an era
“There are things that we never want to let go of, people we never want to leave behind. But keep in mind that letting go isn’t the end of the world, it’s the beginning of a new life.”
https://picasaweb.google.com/109164353544358903729/Ecuador
During the last two weeks Philippe and I visited Colca Canyon, and Lake Titicaca, two "must see" tourist destinations. We hiked down the canyon, which was more like a valley, and slept in a bamboo hut in the oasis at the bottom. We had a good time, but it was not one of our most amazing destinations (we have been too spoiled this trip already..) and we got the same impression after spending a night on one of the islands on the lake. We then headed to Bolivia, the crazy city of La Paz to be exact, where we have been for the last week. At the border, we met up with a German couple we knew from Ecuador, and spent the week with them. Our first impression of this city was just as everyone describes it, crazy. The houses are constructed everywhere, with no order, up and down the valley (the whole city is a hill). On our second day here, it poured, and I mean poured. Not only was it raining harder than I have ever seen it rain, but also all the streets turned into gushing rivers. Unable to go anywhere, we stood in a little shop until it let up a bit and we were able to run back home. Another thing that we noticed right away about La Paz were the protests, there really are as many as they say. In three days there were two large protests (luckily not violent) and a bus strike, and I am sure there are more to come. Thousands of protesters marched down the street, throwing very loud firecrackers, chanting, and stopping traffic. The police just stood by and watched (if they got involved it would turn violent), and blocked off any type of government building. For the most part we have just been hanging out, drinking fruit cocktails and exploring the city, but we also did one fun day trip, the death road.
The death road is known as the most dangerous road in the world, and it really is. Many parts of it are only 3.2m wide, which is hardly enough space for one car, never mind when two pass each other. There is now a new, less dangerous road that most cars take, but up until recently when it was the only choice, between 200-300 people died every year on a small stretch. The road is so dangerous because it is so skinny, and built out of a cliff with a 1000m+ drop on one side. Now, the most dangerous 65km have turned into a popular mountain biking trip, which we happily survived.
Sadly, Philippe has now left as he is head back to Switzerland for Christmas, and then to Shanghai for an internship, so after a sad goodbye, I'm back to traveling on my own. I am starting a new chapter of my trip, which involves Spanish schools and volunteering. I am currently staying with a family here in La Paz for the next week for Spanish school, and then I will move on to volunteering with animals, and then children for the next few months (with some traveling in between of course).
https://picasaweb.google.com/109164353544358903729/Ecuador
During the last two weeks Philippe and I visited Colca Canyon, and Lake Titicaca, two "must see" tourist destinations. We hiked down the canyon, which was more like a valley, and slept in a bamboo hut in the oasis at the bottom. We had a good time, but it was not one of our most amazing destinations (we have been too spoiled this trip already..) and we got the same impression after spending a night on one of the islands on the lake. We then headed to Bolivia, the crazy city of La Paz to be exact, where we have been for the last week. At the border, we met up with a German couple we knew from Ecuador, and spent the week with them. Our first impression of this city was just as everyone describes it, crazy. The houses are constructed everywhere, with no order, up and down the valley (the whole city is a hill). On our second day here, it poured, and I mean poured. Not only was it raining harder than I have ever seen it rain, but also all the streets turned into gushing rivers. Unable to go anywhere, we stood in a little shop until it let up a bit and we were able to run back home. Another thing that we noticed right away about La Paz were the protests, there really are as many as they say. In three days there were two large protests (luckily not violent) and a bus strike, and I am sure there are more to come. Thousands of protesters marched down the street, throwing very loud firecrackers, chanting, and stopping traffic. The police just stood by and watched (if they got involved it would turn violent), and blocked off any type of government building. For the most part we have just been hanging out, drinking fruit cocktails and exploring the city, but we also did one fun day trip, the death road.
The death road is known as the most dangerous road in the world, and it really is. Many parts of it are only 3.2m wide, which is hardly enough space for one car, never mind when two pass each other. There is now a new, less dangerous road that most cars take, but up until recently when it was the only choice, between 200-300 people died every year on a small stretch. The road is so dangerous because it is so skinny, and built out of a cliff with a 1000m+ drop on one side. Now, the most dangerous 65km have turned into a popular mountain biking trip, which we happily survived.
Sadly, Philippe has now left as he is head back to Switzerland for Christmas, and then to Shanghai for an internship, so after a sad goodbye, I'm back to traveling on my own. I am starting a new chapter of my trip, which involves Spanish schools and volunteering. I am currently staying with a family here in La Paz for the next week for Spanish school, and then I will move on to volunteering with animals, and then children for the next few months (with some traveling in between of course).
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