I arrived in Sucre early in the morning via a very cushy overnight bus ride. I mostly slept in my fully reclined seat/bed. It was cheap, comfortable, and saved me the cost of a room for the night – perfect. Like most cities, Sucre’s bus station is not built in the nicest part of town. The station itself is small but clean enough and I felt relatively safe. I didn’t plan to stay in Sucre, just to check it out on my way to Uyuni (said you-knee), so my first order of business was to determine my route and buy my next bus ticket. Several of my fellow travelers have enjoyed Potosi (said Po-tow-see) and that was the most popular bus route to Uyuni so I grabbed a ticket. If you have ever been in a U.S. bus terminal then you must erase this from your mind in order to appreciate the typical South American bus station experience. The signs marking the various operators are all (somewhat elaborately) hand painted on plywood and each agency staffs at least one “advertiser.” Their job, it seems, is basically to stand in front of their booth window yelling out the routes and times that their operator offers – over and over and over and over again. The sound is rhythmic, loud, and annoying. I guess I’ve never mentioned that this is also how the mini vans work on the street – think bus route except with a van that has a sign in the window as to its destinations. The drivers simply wander through the city as their “advertisers” hang out the window hollering the routes and sometimes the cost. It’s actually barely comprehensible to me but for the brave and the locals, it is unbelievably cheap.
Anyway, my bus to Potosi was due to leave in about 7 hours so I ditched my backpack in a storage area at the station and headed out to see what I could see. I started on foot to get a feel for the place and to look for some breakfast. The temperature was noticeably warmer and the women were wearing a summer version of the garb I have previously described. The main differences seem to be in the number of layers, length of their skirts, and the type of hats they wore (see my pic of the lady walking down the street holding a basket). Unfortunately directions around here were a nightmare – 8 blocks was really 12 and so on. Plus it had started to rain so I decided to hop in a cab and head to the main square. Lonely Planet recommended a super cute little café in the square at La Historica Villa de la Plata (The Historic Village of Silver). I had a tortilla which, in Bolivia, is similar to a frittata or a fluffy omelet that is baked in the oven. That and a specialty coffee packed with calorific goodness definitely made up for the rain. Yum!
After breakfast I wandered around the square enjoying the gardens and watching the children chasing the birds in the rain. (Side note: Take time to drink in the little things...there is so much joy in simple pleasures.) The city is really beautiful, especially when compared to most other Bolivian cities. It is certainly much cleaner and more manicured, and it’s actually fairly ornate as well. Once upon a time Sucre was the capital of Bolivia, and it is still the constitutional capital. La Paz seems to have stolen the title at some point - something to do with the silver trade from nearby Potosi drying up - although Sucre is still the seat of government. If you ask me, they got it wrong because Sucre is WAY nicer than La Paz, albeit a bit remote. It’s quaint in all the right ways. For several blocks in every direction surrounding the main square, the buildings are all white washed and finished with terracotta roofs and black wrought iron jewelry. There are lovely balconies, unique hanging signs, picturesque street lamps, and other great details in the door knockers and shutter hardware. Sadly, the spaghetti-like mess that is the electrical wiring is something of an eyesore, but overall I really liked the city.
Sucre is the head of the Roman Catholic Church in Bolivia so there are several lovely cathedrals, as well as loads of museums. I am normally not the museum going type unless they are of the artistic variety; however, I made an exception and decided to check out a couple of the local museums. My main goal was to appease my best friend, Rod, by checking out some historically significant artifacts and whatnot. *shudder* I posted some pics to prove my attendance at La Casa de la Libertad - the title, of course, suggests that it marks the place of Bolivia's liberty. Perhaps that is true -dunno. There were some nifty old military uniforms and some swords and whatnot - and I liked the courtroom, although I can't figure out why there are two hybrid crib/casket looking things complete with carved creepy 300- year-old skull and cross bones in the middle of it. Perhaps the judges where not very forgiving. The coolest thing that I almost learned well enough to share is that Bolivia seems to be a conglomeration of a bunch of regional Indian tribes. That’s about all I can say about that. No worries though, I can almost certainly guarantee that my bestie will fill this in, probably from memory. His brain is chock full of useless trivia-type info like that.
The most interesting museum was definitely the one about Bolivian textile history called Museo de Arte Indigena (Museum of Indigenous Art). Sucre and its surrounding villages are known for producing the finest weaving in the country. My favorite part of the museum was the weaver’s gallery where there are native artists actually demonstrating the weaving process. Kewl. The gallery showed off some of Bolivia’s finest textiles overall. I loved it. Actually, I bought a small piece to honor the weaver I met there – check out my pic! The red and black piece she is working on in the picture is done in the century old Jalq’a style. The style is completely free form so every piece is unique. The master weaver disposes of a lot of potential shapes in favor of those that capture the group’s self-characterization as seen through the eyes of neighboring ethnic groups. Overall the Jalq’a produce pieces that represent an underground world devoid of solar light and dominated not by men but by free and untamed characters, many of which were not adopted into Andean imagery until the Spanish conquest. This part of the tour was obviously translated for me - which was great because I really enjoyed it. The weavings are meant to refer to the unknown. For those of you who knew me in my younger years, you know that I am a decent artist – drawing and painting mostly – when it comes to copying a 2-D image. When it comes to creating something from my own imagination, I got nothin’. I have a deep respect for people who are able to create from their imagination alone.
The rest of the rooms and various displays were dedicated to explaining the materials and dying processes, to breaking down the meanings of the various types of weaving, and to displaying dance costumes and musical instruments that are fundamental to the various cultures they come from. It was all very interesting. There was also an exhibit displaying artifacts from Tiwanaku (between Copacabanna and LaPaz) – it dates back to 700 A.D. I am disappointed that I missed out on these ruins. My Dad said they were amazing. I had to pick between the ruins and Isla del Sol. Oh well, next time. The last exhibit was mostly old bones and skulls and pottery…I wish that sort of thing was more interesting to me but it’s just not.
After the museum booted me out (closing time was just 2:30pm – boo!), I spent my remaining hour in Sucre wandering around town admiring the buildings and observing some of the cultural aspects of daily life. I stopped by a bakery for some local treats (which would have been awesome with hot tea by the way), and wandered through the fresh food markets and specialty areas where I met a shoemaker and a woman selling every manner of hair scrunchie imaginable. I eventually made my way up a hill looking for a view and was fortunate to meet a lovely grandmother type who was entertaining her granddaughter after school. We only talked a few minutes but I just LOVED her warm smile. Then it was time to get back for my bus to Potosi so I asked for directions and headed out. I was a little bit sad that I didn’t have more time in Sucre.
I arrived in Potosi at about midnight after a long bus ride with not so cushy seats. Fortunately the scenery was just stunning. I have included a couple of terrible photos that I took through the window while we were moving just to give you an idea of what the Bolivian countryside looks like because it's fabulous. Since I didn’t really know what my route would be in advance, I also didn’t know where I would be spending the night. Normally this isn’t much of an issue but it proved a little challenging on this night. For starters the bus station is not within walking distance of the main town where the majority of the hostels are located. Thankfully the station is huge by Bolivian standards so I didn’t have any trouble getting a cab. Unfortunately the random hostel that I selected from my Lonely Planet guide was full when I arrived. This is highly annoying at 1:00am. What took annoying to challenging was the SUV full of kids who thought it would be funny to spray me from head to toe with some kind of foam that smelled like oranges. Standing on the side of the road in the cold rain having just exited my taxi after an eight hour bus ride and an overnight the previous evening - I did not think it was funny. I was actually a bit stunned and I am embarrassed to admit that it kind of broke my spirit. The foam was sticky and literally covered every square inch of the front of me. I took a deep breath, wiped the foam out of my eyes, and walked into the hostel with a pouty face trying to hold back my tears. I must have looked like a little girl who had just skinned her knee and was trying not to cry about it – it’s all pretty funny to me now.
The reception clerk first informed me that the foam is just part of the Carnival season in Potosi and that it wasn’t anything to worry about. This lifted my spirits a little until he informed me that they didn’t have any beds available and that their only private room was more than I wanted to spend. Ug. I hoisted my bag back into place and stepped back out into the rain to check out a couple of other places. Most of them were closed for the night so I eventually wandered back to the first place aiming to take the private room. In that time there had been a shift change and the new clerk was happy to offer me their last available bed at a cheap rate. Thank you God! I hit the shower and fell into bed bemoaning my horrible luck. By this point I had already decided to take the first bus out of Potosi…and I did. It was still raining and miserable in the morning so I figured Potosi had it coming. Boy I sure showed that city. *hmpf*
Note: Of course I now realize how childish this reaction was but it took the rear view to see it. I think there is a lesson in not taking oneself too seriously somewhere in this experience.
Miscellaneous thoughts:
I don’t think I ever mentioned Sophie from Wild Rover, my first hostel in LaPaz. She was bartending at the hostel while I was there. Working at hostels is something backpackers can do when their funds are running low. Sometimes it’s just for room and board and sometimes there is a wage. I remember her because she likes to wear funky hats and she’s from Alaska. Anyway, she was on the bus to Sucre with me. It was nice to see her again.
Hola! As a new blogger I cannot promise I will be a very entertaining read, but I'm backpacking solo across South America so I thought I should have a place to jot down moments of potential genius. Since I'm sure to be a bit loney along the way, I am glad to share my insights, experiences, and misadventures with my e-friends here...