I am Famous in Bolivia!!

Typical architecture
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I have now been on the Bolivian news twice in the space of a week! How great is that ? I haven`t been asked for autographs yet, but I carry a pen around with me in the hope that someone will recognise me....

I decided to spend a week in Sucre because it is a really chilled out city and I need a rest ! For those of you who have been sending me messages along the lines of `I am soooo jealous of you because you are travelling`, read on to find out why travelling has its moments of pure and utter desperation.

Evo Morales giving a speech
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Sucre is a beautiful colonial city which is full of history and culture. It is known as the white city because the buildings are, strangely enough, white. When the sun shines, you can get lost as you wonder around the university town. The place is full to the brim with `ancient weavings`i.e. the same tourist objects that are sold all over the place but they are so colorful that you cannot resist filling your back pack with every kind of table cloth, wall hanging, or plate mat. I became obsessed with how my nonexistent and yet-to-buy house will look like when I hang my purchases on the walls or when I host dinner parties with my friends, how they will smile in delight when I serve them their grub on these delicate little mats. Anyway, a part from the tourist trap shops, there are also a number of other cultural activities to do.

A market in Sucre
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I, for example, went to the Casa Della Liberdad which is where Bolivian Independence was signed. It was interesting because it explained who the Bolivian heros were ( yet again, there are significantly more heros in Bolivia than in Italy) and how Bolivian Independence was obtained. It also houses a collection of paintings of every Bolivian president up until today. This is where Bolivian society becomes slightly contradictory. It is hailed as a macho society and indeed, I have found this to be true, if not to be exploited ( who said I was a feminist ? ). Yet, Bolivia was the first Latin American country to have a female president. Bolivia also celebrates a woman as one of its favoured heroines for the role she played in liberating Bolivia. This is just one aspect of Bolivia that I find difficult to comprehend. Another element of the museum is dedicated to Bolivia`s lament for losing its coast to Chile during the War of the Pacific. It paints a very patriotic picture. For example, it displays the last Bolivian flag that flew in what is now Chile. It is all very sad. It did not however, mention the fact that whilst Chile was making its final advance into Bolivian territory, the Bolivian president was merrily getting drunk during Sucre`s week long carnival. Hmmm not a fact that I suppose Bolivia is proud of.

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I also went to the Museum of Indigenous Art which was fantastic. The endless stands and stalls selling `hand made`weavings ( yeah yeah) make the streets look like rainbows after a rainy afternoon. But you never really understand what the traditional patterns mean. It is at this museum that everything is explained. You learn for example, that the women wear a particular type of weaving as a shawl, to demonstrate which community they belong to. The museum shows you how they are made. It also gives you an insight into the rebirth of indigenous culture. This, I discovered in Sucre, has become extremely relevant over the past couple of decades and it is this generation that has rediscovered the art of weaving and is wearing it with pride.

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Festivals are also a rediscovery and traditional dance and dress are important things to praise the Pacchamamma with. I was lucky enough to be in Sucre for one of Tarabuco`s most prestigious festival. Usually, the town is a haven for tourists in search of a bargain on Sundays. It is a place where the difference between paying one pound or two pounds for a piece of cloth is the difference between life and death. It is incredible how hard a gringo will fight to get the best price in a country in which the pound is worth about sixteen bolivianos. The market was a great place to see real Bolivians and how they live. I agree that the central part of the market is directed totally to the tourist but if you wonder to the back of the town, you will encounter exclusively Bolivian stalls. I bought a custard apple scented moisturizer ( which  I didn`t realise was also a skin whitener, sadly) from a lady who only spoke quechwa. What I love about indigenous people are their ability to warm your heart with a single, beautiful smile that lights up their whole face and makes you feel part of their world. The few words that they share with you are replaced by a single friendly but shy smile.

The University
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The day continued with dancing from different communities from the surrounding areas of Sucre. They dress in bright pink and wear huge clogs with what seemed to be tiny metal squares which make a huge noise when stamped in unison. The other outstanding aspect of the dancing were the girl`s singing. They sang in such amazingly high voices which made them sound like a chorus of chipmunks.

The processions of dancing and singing communities continued for a couple more hours until the sound of a distant helicopter was heard. At this point a stampede of Bolivians and tourists ran towards a field where the helicopter landed. The whole town was ecstatic because the president, Evo Morales, visited Tarabuco to give a speech. The whole thing was very informal. There were body guards, but nothing on the scale of what Bush or Blair might have. After about a million people gave speeches i.e. the mayor, the mayor of Sucre, the mayor of every other tiny village lost in the mountains, the mayor invited a tourist up to give a speech to Evo. I had it all planned. I was going to get up on stage and shout `Viva Boliivia ! Viva Evo! I love Bolivia ! Instead, the mayor chose a French guy to speak who, I have to say, said more intelligent things than what I had in mind. Nonetheless, the camera swung in  my direction and that evening, I saw myself on the Bolivian news ! Finally, Evo spoke. The crowd went wild.They seemed so happy that he had come to see them. He was wearing a traditional outfit from Tarabuco complete with a pair of trainers and white sport socks pulled up to his shins. That`s why he is so great ! He refuses to wear western dress and is often seen wearing a red jumper that apparently his grandma knitted. He spoke about the fact that the press in Bolivia is free unlike `some countries `are claiming ( no countries were named but I think we can guess which ones), that he is building up the country with foreign help, that us tourists should understand that Bolivians are honest and respectful ( except when they are trying to get through a crowd, then it`s every man for himself) and finally that he is single and looking for a girlfriend ! The guy is a legend. He left in his helicopter after shaking hands with people in the crowds and the dancing recommenced.

Even the kids protest in Bolivia !
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The next day I left for La Paz which was supposed to be a twelve hour bus ride leaving at six p.m. and arriving at six a.m. `Great`, I thought, `I will have time to check out the city in a couple of days and speed off to Lake Titicaca`. Plans, I found out yesterday, do not work out in Bolivia. This was because at about 4a.m. we were stuck in a huge traffic jam about 200kms from La Paz. This was because the locals had decided to block the roads with rocks. Now, at about 6a.m. I awoke to discover the bus driver sleeping in the chair next to me. `That`s odd`, I thought. But still, anything is possible in Bolivia. I tried to go back to sleep, thinking that the driver must just be tired and maybe he just wanted to go to sleep. I asked an Argentinian woman what was going on because I looked out the window, all I could see for miles and miles were lines of buses and lorries. The bus driver at this point was awake, and explained that there were five more road blocks ahead and we had two options: we could walk to La Paz or wait for the protestors to get fed up and move on. Me and the Argentinian lady decided to walk. We did so for about ten kilometers to the nearest town. The blockade was composed of about ten protesters who had got fed up and had simply left a pile of rocks in the road which nobody seemed in a hurry to clear up. I thought that was the end of it and carried on walking to try to catch a bus to La Paz. Obviously, there were none and the only option was to get a taxi. At the next blockade me and the Argentinian and a couple of others from our bus hitched a ride with another bus which had managed to escape the chaos. I thought we had made it. This was not the case. As we approached the third blockade, the bus was pelted with rocks smashing the windows opposite me. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. An explosion was heard in the distance because protestors in Bolivia use dynamite and are generally drunk when using it. The protestors used this kind of violence against innocent people all because they have had to pay more this year for their electricity. The police`s attitude to this. and most Bolivians was one of calm, it will pass, they will soon give up. The Argenitinian that I was with turned into a woman possessed and starting shouting and swearing which really wasn´t the way forward. We managed to get to the final blockade which simply would not move, a part from at 12 o´clock when they left their principles to go to lunch. Most bus were clever enough to go through the blockade at that point. What did our bus decide? They wanted lunch as well! We were therefore stuck in the boiling heat in a queue behind a lorry carrying squealing and smelly pigs. I also had a streaming cold, by the way and to make matters worse, the bus driver had disappeared. His apprentice did not want to go and look for him as he had suddenly become mute. We decided to hunt him down and make him take us to La Paz via an alternative route which was very rough but all the others seemed to be going that way. As luck would have it, the bus company told the bus driver that he could not go along roads that were not asphalted. At this point the passengers were about to riot and I was genuinely worried about what was going to happen here. It was at this point that a journalist approached me and asked me what I thought of Bolivia after this. I rambled on for about ten minutes but in the news last night all I was heard to say was `this isn`t politics, this is madness!`. They sounded like my famous last word but we eventually managed to persuade the driver to go and in a mad pursuit by the protesters we made it finally to La Paz, twenty four hours after my departure. I just read the British Foreign Office`s advice for travelers to Bolivia and it states `It is highly advisable not to go near road blocks`. I agree!

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After talking to a Bolivian girl about this, she said that this is how Bolivia works. People protest for any reason and they cause chaos. Apparently it works. People asked me on the bus why I loved Bolivia so much when this kind of anarchy occurs on a daily basis. I suppose to live in, Bolivia is a challenging place. As a tourist you are given a slightly more sugar coated view.

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