Bolivia

Bolivian Transportation Survival Guide

by Ekua on January 21, 2010 · 1 comment in backpacking,Bolivia,d.i.y. travel,safe travels

Home to the official “World’s Most Dangerous Road”, Bolivia is notoriously challenging to travel through. Its extreme geography is a huge part of what makes it such a unique country, but it can also make it tricky to get from place to place.

If you plan on visiting many different parts of the country, it’s recommended to tough out the winter temperatures to decrease the chance that rain will derail your travels. In the rainy season, roads are more likely to be washed out and flights are more likely to be canceled because of flooded runways. But even if rain is not an issue, traveling through Bolivia can test your patience, temperature thresholds, and sense of adventure.

Buses are the most common and readily available way to get around the country. They are not the most comfortable option, but they are cheap. And there are wonderful moments to be had staring through the window in awe at Bolivia’s dramatic scenery as your bus navigates the sharp curves and cliffs of the mountainous terrain.

With any method of transportation you choose, it’s wise to have a somewhat flexible schedule. And the most important thing you can bring with you is a sense of humor…

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Bolivian Expectations: Hostels

by Ekua on January 18, 2010 · 10 comments in backpacking,Bolivia,d.i.y. travel

As I was preparing for traveling through Bolivia, I noticed that there was very little information on what I might find there. I know that not knowing what to expect and figuring it out upon arrival can be part of the fun of travel. But sometimes a little preparation allows you to make the most of spontaneity. And in a challenging destination like Bolivia, not being prepared for what might come up can potentially leave you S.O.L. in Middle of Nowhere, High Altitude, Bolivia.

I don’t want to discourage anyone from visiting the country as it is an incredibly rewarding place to go to. I just want to present a realistic view of what it’s like to travel there and delve into the practicalities of the impractical act of budget travel in Bolivia. First up: Hostelling.

» Staying Warm

Traveling during Bolivia’s winter (June-August) is often recommended for drier weather (which means better road conditions) and for solo travelers who want to meet other travelers (because it is high season). But the extreme cold can make it a tricky time to be there. Trying to stay warm in order to get a good night’s sleep was a recurring theme of my trip. There was no silver lining of toasty cabins and hot cocoa so I eventually learned a few things about how to fall asleep in a subzero room.

Don’t expect:

  • central heating or even carpeted floors. If it’s freezing cold outside, it will likely be freezing cold inside your hostel.
  • to always have a nicer and warmer sleeping option available. Bolivia is a cheap country to travel in and you often get what you pay for.

Expect:

  • to have to bundle up. Make sure you’re warm as you can be before you try to sleep. Getting out from under your covers in a freezing cold night to put on layers isn’t fun, and neither is having a sleepless and restless numb-toed night.
  • to bring a sleeping bag and/or extra blankets to stay warm. You can also ask a receptionist if your hostel has extra blankets available.
  • to be able to buy what you need there. There is an abundance of llama/alpaca gringo gear for sale in the markets so you can stock up on wool socks, gloves, hats, hoodies, and blankets to keep you warm at night. If you don’t want to take your purchases home with you at the end of your trip, you can always leave them behind for another traveler.

» Water and Showering

Another recurring theme of my trip was shower avoidance. After shivering yourself to sleep, the last thing you want to do is wake up and hop into chilly water. So sometimes you won’t shower. And when you do, it will likely be quick. Try not to think about what you smell like, instead give yourself a pat on the back for your environmentally friendly ways (even if they are forced).

Don’t Expect

  • 24 hour hot water. A lot of hostels will have a window of time where hot water is available, usually during daylight hours.
  • that a hostel that claims to have 24 hour hot really does. In my experience, hostels that explicitly stated that they did, really had 24 hour cold to lukewarm water. So you might be better off with an honest hostel that gives you a hot water time frame.
  • running water. Water is scarce in Bolivia. There may be times where you’ll have to brush your teeth with bottled water or flush the toilet with a bucket of water.
  • to have a towel provided. Bring along a quick drying towel.

Expect

  • that if hot water is available, it might only be a trickle of water. To access the hot water in some hostels, you can only turn on the water a little bit. If you want more pressure, the water will be cold.
  • to take advantage of having a hot shower when you get a chance.

» Party Hostels

Party hostels can be great places to meet other travelers and let loose. And they often have more amenities (such as hot water and warmer bedding) than smaller, more local hostels. However, they tend to harbor all sorts of losery travelers with questionable motives. If you want to stay in party hostels, use them sparingly, and don’t get sucked into staying for an extended period of time.

Expect:

  • to choose your hostel wisely. Chat with other travelers who have already visited a city you’re heading to and get the scoop on the hostels there.
  • to book in well in advance if you want a small dorm or private room in high season
  • to keep track of your hostel purchases. Some hostels let you charge food, drinks, etc. to your room and it’s important to have a sense of what you’ve bought so you don’t get overcharged when you check out.

Don’t expect:

  • to sleep

» A lot of this information is specific to traveling in the Andean part of Bolivia. Some of this information can apply to the Andean parts of Peru as well.

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The Crossing of the Return Threshold

by Ekua on December 15, 2009 · 8 comments in Bolivia

August 20, 2009

You travel seeking to fulfill a desire to see and experience a place, but you inevitably end up leaving wanting more. Each trip that uncovers a little piece of the world signals that there is much more left to seek out on this miraculous Earth. The vicious cycle of wanderlust.

At the airport, the scene of Bolivian elite and tacky tourist groups made it sink in that I was about to enter to another world. The haphazardness of the check-in and airport security process reminded me that I was still in Bolivia. The slow transition continued in Miami. Technically, I was back on home soil, but that airport always feels like the perfect halfway point between Latin America and the United States. In SFO, I re-entered the calm, organized world I’d been easing into.

I never want my trips to end. And it was the same with this one. But there was something different. An intense satisfaction that distracted me from thoughts of other places left to uncover. I’d done it. My first big solo trip. As I stepped off the plane, I felt the joy of accomplishment pumping through my veins and energizing me for my return home. Months later, I still smile to myself when I think about it.

Bolivia is a stubborn country that refuses to be anything but itself. At times it is infuriating, at other times it is endearing. Every city I visited was completely different from the next. But in each place, I felt a sense of “this is Bolivia.”

I love refusal to give into the status quo. I love a challenge. I love unique beauty. I love a sense of humor. These are some of Bolivia’s qualities that made me fall for it in the end.  “[Bolivia] is beautiful, [Bolivia] is a stuggle. [Bolivia] is a beautiful struggle.”

- THE END -

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The Beautiful Struggle Comes to an End

by Ekua on December 9, 2009 · 0 comments in Bolivia

August 19, 2009

The last few grains of sand were falling to the bottom of the hourglass; my time in South America was coming to an end. Santa Cruz de la Sierra proved to be a good place to transition back into the “modern” world. It’s a plain and ordinary city that makes you feel like you could be almost anywhere in the world.

People don’t typically go there to stay in the city. Santa Cruz is a great jumping off point for many activities such as exploring the Amazon Basin, Pantanal, and Jesuit Missions. But I had just one night left and those activities required at least a few days. So I spent my last two days roaming the streets of Santa Cruz, poking around shops to spend my last Bolivianos, and enjoying wonderful juices and desserts made with the abundance of tropical fruits available.

On my second to last day, I returned to my hostel in the late afternoon. The only thing left to do was to visit  some museums. I decided I’d rather take advantage of the hammocks in my hostel’s courtyard and read a book. It was there that I found my final amazing group of travelers. I made plans to meet up with woman from Brazil and a guy from England later for dinner and dancing. I cannot even begin to describe the hilarity that ensued. From his stories to his dance moves, the English guy was one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. My stomach hurt from laughing so hard that night, sit ups be damned.

Almost as soon as we got back to the hostel, the sky unleashed thunder and lightning and heavy tropical rain. We decided to watch the storm in the courtyard and chat for a bit before heading off to bed. A girl came out of the dorm room I was staying in and sat down beside us without saying a word. After a few minutes of observing us, in French accent, she hostilely asked us to be quiet.

The next morning I had a conversation with her. I sensed that there was something beyond what many Americans would consider a typical French attitude. I asked her what she was doing in Bolivia. Her crankiness disappeared and her face lit up as she told me she was in Bolivia to do research for a Ph.D. in linguistics. She was spending an undetermined amount of time there and seemed excited to be venturing into little known parts of Bolivia.

One by one, the people I met at the hostel headed off in different directions. The English guy was taking the “Death Train” to Brazil. I went to lunch with the Brazilian woman before she hopped on a Samaipata bound taxi. I had several hours to spend before my late night flight. I sat down in the square to people watch. Main squares can really give you a sense of what a culture is all about. This one was relatively plain, but colored with lovers and loving families.

After dinner, I went back to the hostel to get my backpack and call a taxi. In some ways I was ready to return to the comforts of home, but I really wanted to flip the travel hourglass timer and stay in the country I’d grown to love. But all good-bad things must come to an end, and my time in Bolivia was up.

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Ginger’s Paradise

by Ekua on December 1, 2009 · 6 comments in Bolivia

August 17, 2009

Some people visit Samaipata and the surrounding areas because of the Ruta del Che which follows Che Guevara’s path from his arrival in Bolivia to the site of his death. You won’t find me sporting a t-shirt with the ubiquitous image of Che Guevara, but I find his life and the way he is perceived to be particularly fascinating. I’d hoped to explore the locations on the trail and his history more, but found that from Samaipata, it would be very expensive and take several hours.

But there were other interesting options. The Australian sisters were going to a place one of them had heard about from another traveler. A place called Ginger’s Paradise. I was intrigued. It was described as an organic farm set amidst an abundance of natural beauty. Visitors could stay there and work in exchange for a decreased cost for room and board. Organic farming was not something I’d done, but I wanted to try something new. After lunch, I hopped in a taxi bound for Ginger’s Paradise with the English girl and the two Aussies.

Surrounded by sharp mountain peaks covered with dense green vegetation flowing rivers, there was not much to say. We just stared in awe at gorgeousness in every direction. It was very sparsely populated except for mansions here and there. Overall, Bolivia is a poor country and it’s not often that you see such displays of affluence. I wondered who lived in those houses.

I didn’t want the drive to end, but after about an hour, our driver slowed down and came to a stop along a river. A sign in front of a sketchy bridge made out of rope and wood read, “Ginger’s Paradise”. We had arrived. With our heavy backpacks, we decided it was best to go one at a time across the precarious bridge to decrease our chances of it breaking.

On the other side of the river, we found an empty house. There were instructions that said if no one was there, we should follow a path to another house. Me and one of the Aussie girls went in search of people while the other two stayed behind with our bags. We came upon a house where people were finishing up a late lunch.

A tan guy with dirty blonde dreadlocks named Chris walked back with us to get us settled in. He had a strange accent that made me think he was an American who’d not lived in America for while. It turns out he was. A Californian who’d lived in Europe and South America for a number of years.

We’d arrived just in time for farm work. We changed and went back to the house to chat with the rest of the group for a little bit before heading out into the fields. There was Chris’s Bolivian wife Sol and two of their children. The youngest was named Ginger but I’m not sure if the farm was named after her or vice versa. There was a couple, an Argentinian woman and a man from Italy who were leaving the farm soon. The other guest was a girl from Israel who’d been there for a week and definitely seemed to enjoy the organic farm lifestyle.

In the field, we first cleared dead plants. We then made rows of holes and planted corn seeds. This experience definitely made me have a lot respect for people who farm the old way without fancy machines and such. As simple as it sounds, it was definitely hard work. So we were upset to find that the family did not eat dinner because eating in the evening “makes people fat.” We felt a little jipped and glad that we’d eaten a ginormous lunch before leaving Samaipata.

In the evening, we all gathered on the porch of the family house. We were joined by Chris’s musician friend and the oldest son. Apparently there is not enough space and/or money in the local schools to have all the students there all day. The younger kids attend in the morning and the older kids attend in the afternoon.

We drank thick hot chocolate (no milk, the family mainly eats vegan but will kill a chicken every so often) and talked and played card games while Chris and his friend worked on their “Andean Opera”. Seriously, I am not making that up. The kids were interesting. Very smart and a little annoying. But it’s refreshing to meet kids whose minds have had the chance to develop without the influence of TV and peer pressure. It would like to know what happens to them as they get older.

After a hanging out for a bit, we retreated to the other house where they’d set up mattresses for us. We sat in a circle to chat and dipped into our emergency snack stashes to ease our rumbling stomachs.

The next morning we headed over to the main house for breakfast. We had thick whole grain bread with homemade jam and oatmeal. We drank coffee that was also grown on the farm. It was my first decent cup of coffee in awhile. I’ve had great Bolivian coffee in the U.S., but what they had available there usually left a lot to be desired. I think they export the best stuff.

The Australian girls were going to stay at Ginger’s Paradise, but the English girl and I were heading to Santa Cruz. I had two days before my flight and she was taking a train to Argentina. After saying our goodbyes, we headed back across the wobbly bridge to the road to try to catch a taxi.

Taxis went by, but they were all going the opposite direction towards Samaipata. Finally, a taxi driver slowed down for us. His entire car was full of flowers. He explained that someone had paid him to deliver them to Santa Cruz. He said he could shuffle things around and we could squeeze in. We were in the middle of nowhere with few options so we agreed. He moved the flowers in the passenger seat to the back. We both squeezed into the passenger seat and were able to shut the door after a few adjustments. Hey, at least we got a ride.

After a couple of hours cramped into one seat, we were relieved to arrive in Santa Cruz. I parted ways with the last member of the group I’d spent the past few days with.

I was alone again, but not lonely. I’d fallen into the rhythm of coming and going and meeting and parting. You become comfortable with yourself and with your thoughts after some time.

I settled into my hostel and then took a walk around the immediate area. I found a local craft fair and bought some awesome jewelry. Earrings have become my souvenirs when I travel and I can’t resist getting a few new unique pairs when I go somewhere new.

I ate dinner at a nice restaurant around the corner from my hostel. An ecstatic feeling was rising in me as I came to the realization that I’d made it to my last stop. I was sad to be leaving Bolivia in two days, but I’d done what I set out to do and it felt amazing.

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