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Santa Cruz
Arrived at Santa Cruz of the Sierra by a moist heat, we are surprised the evening come from an unexpected freshness under these latitudes. We pass briskly from the tee-shirt to the sweater. Here the temperature can vary from 35° C to 10° C in a few minutes, if the wind comes from North or the East, it makes hot, if it comes from the South, it makes cold. In fact it is acted of a polar draught going up from Patagonie through Argentina which while skirting the Andes cordillera arrives any expenses here. The city, capital of the "Oriente", seems tourist little of interest, many people and congestions in this city which will not be long in becoming more significant than La Paz (1,2 million hab.). The climate is much softer there and the " proximity " of Brazil supports its industrial development, moreover one gas layer discovered a few years ago generates a titanic building site. An enormous gas pipeline will cross the marshes of Pantanal then to bleed Brazilian Amazonia till Sao Paulo, the giant-city at about 1500 km. The building site already in progress proves extremely difficult taking into account a dense forest, the trees perhaps have still a chance to stay alive. Let us wish that it occur about it just as for the railroad trans-Brazil which never could be born. The diagrams of economic development are still to invent, in the respect of an exceptional but hostile environment.
Santa Cruz it is also the Che's road... come here to try to raise troops, it was the voyage in excess. On his note book, unrelentingly we can find each evening " the contact could not be established with the population... ",as a litany. The continuation, we know it very well, Bolivians too.
Near Santa Cruz, the Jesuit's missions, the conquistadors in their progression towards the South ran up against Kechuas warriors in the marshes of Pantanal. Where the army failed, the religion wan... In front of the difficult progression of the armada, the Spanish crown made the decision to send prayers in this area, and it was a complete success. There remain nice churches with an old charm.
Small city in the Beni region, with a tiny airport almost in the middle of the village. Very poor, no running water, no electricity either, a power generator unit feeds electricity to the centre town during a few hours in the evening... sometimes. A charming place around which, when the night comes, wirl a lot of teenagers on muppets from another time. Small children of 6 or 7 years old shoeshiners with naked feets which look hopelesly at our tennis shoes. A local food, Pico Macho, kind of varied and raised salad "à la mode" Bolivian accompanied with rice and chips, succulent. One throws flushing waters in the streets to avoid dust but the fight is so difficult and the water so expensive... then dust wins and penetrates everywhere. People strong sympathetic nerves which do not hesitate to challenge us.
The road to San Boja was to be easy, hardly 130 kms of track according to books' guides. The day before of the departure, we thoroughly choose the micro-bus Nissan which seemed to us the less rotted, a 4 wheels drive according to the "duena of Cruz del Oriente ", 8 hours of way were to make the deal. The departure was enough easy, as gringos, only white on board, we have right to seats, the luxury ... after a few km of our departure the track tightens and takes paces of toboggans, "lazy" in the trees, brilliant... The rain fallen 2 days before had not dried, a few centimetres of this " Amazonian " mud, fatty and sticky, are sufficient to make control very, very approximate. The driver (here they are called maestros) helped of his made copilot of sound better... Finally, to avoid a track that one still announced " mucha mala ", we climb the micro-bus on a vat. Nothing to see with the "Ré" island before the bridge!... A kind of wood barge pushed by a tiny motor boat. The loading was enough sport, the bank due being moved into the pickaxe but that seemed very usual... " cruising " on Rio Mamore lasted a few hours, sand banks, some frights but especially a very very strong heat. The autochtones themselves suffered to sprinkle muddy water of Rio. It has been the occasion to discuss lengthily with our occasional fellow-members. The most part of them lived in San Boja and were descended in Trinidad to make some shopping. The unloading was exciting as the loading, a shock on the bottom made some damage... no problem ! a piece of soap and some dust from the track is the solution for a leakage of oil. A downpour nailed us for the night in the village of San Ignacio, the end of the world, we were no more than 60 kms of Trinidad and that had required one complete day !... The evening was extremely pleasant, small meat skewers in the street in a little shop with a young Bolivian girl, few words but much obliging smiles.
The following day we found our track-toboggan and after mechanical steps badly of incidents and not badly of pushing of the micro-bus which finally was not any more a 4x4 since a while, after also the decisive assistance of "ganaderos" with their horses to draw us from a hole a little too deep, we arrived at the bio-spherical reserve of Beni (at 30 km before San Boja), fortunatly !
A halation of peace and calm, the Bolivian government created here what could become a kind of world's university for the ecologists, cheer!... Here students study and the researchers search, we were there just to see the birds... A pretty small bedroom which changes us vs the night spent in San Ignacio, a shower, toilets... luxury! no elec. no hot water... of course. But a paradise on the earth, in the evening some hundreds of parrots come to sleep on the palm trees very close to the dormitories, we can observe them from a water watchtower-cistern. We collect grapefruits on the trees and we enjoy succulent foods cooked by a Chimano Indian from a community close of the reserve. We make a trek in the Pampa, few animals due to wind according to our guide. However an interesting tour in tall grasses, the feet in the water. We discover the Mutako, miracle palm tree with which one builds houses, one weaves fabrics, one manufactures arcs and arrows. we can even eat his growths and his fruits, we tested, that is called a Massaco, a kind of fibre mashed potatoes with lard and pieces of dried ox... rather particular but three young Americans have really appreciate... Funny.
We carry on our road towards San Boja, it was a Saturday evening, and there was a dancing party untill an hour advanced of the night. Hammocks, summary comfort in the "hospedaje" but again much of human heat. We book a bus for Rurrenabaque for the next morning...
The departure of the bus was to take place at 9 hours, we are on the spot with 3 other backpakers, a Belgian, a Switzerland and a Canadian and two or three Bolivians... breakfast nice. The "duena" says to us that it is impossible to make a bus taking into account too small number of travellers... argg... After a big gossiping we see arriving a bad truck rotted from BadBad, we take a whole a perplexed atitude and it from goes away as it had come, without discussing. A driver and his micro-bus arrive, the "duena" explains to him that they must help us... very touching! " Tenemos a ayudar ellos "..., of the times that badly made be European, in France, which would have made the same thing?.. glurpss, we swallow a second famous breakfast and we jump up in the back of the micro-bus. The driver warned us " se necessita empujar, el camino esta muy feo... ", that we knew already. It was so true... Stop in a small strong market very "tipico", change of vehicle for an old 4x4 Toyota, we seat in the back on boards across the racks, that muscle buttocks !. Little time after we let us include/understand the operation, the track is straightforwardly battered. It was hard enough testing to advance in mud and the ruts full of water. Impressive crossings of "rios", untill a very very wet hole where we could have remained for the eternity, there, opportunist children sold pomelos. It was absolutely impossible to cross without assistance, even the large trucks were stuck in the clay. " Empujar " proved to be insufficient... a truck drew us from the embarrassment with a cable... ouff! We arrived at Rurre the fallen night, pretty small hotel with adorable cockroaches big size.
Rurre it is a little the appointment of backpackers in departure for treks in the jungle and the Pampa, this region is really nice. Many agencies propose tours of 3 or 4 days for a small price. We chose the trek " Pampa " three days, two nights in camp. Our friends Belgian and Swiss come with us. We are a small group of 5 gringos, a guide and a cooker. We embark on a dugout and already the crocodiles point their teeth... they will not leave us during three days, hundreds of crocos, caimans and alligators border the Rio. An incredible variety of birds, tortoises, monkeys, the "lazy monkeys" and an anaconda, one anaconda... it looks like a paradise ! Some small ants oranges with terrible venom ground in the corner, several bites can be mortals... terrible! Lodging although enough summary was very correct taking into account the place, a night forwarding enabled us to subdue the black eyes of the crocos by night, and it is not nothing... lanterns rather impressive oranges. Donato, our guide, disadvised the " Jungle Tour " which we thought to do while following this one, it had contracted the lechmaniose there... argg... an enormous button on its arm, wart kind, testified some, he can die about it, even in Europe. Courageous but not bold we followed it in its consultings. Just for the smile, one evening we took the diner with our safari hats due to rain to cockroaches, very fun all that... the small cockroach here is synonymous with "chagas", and that is not a local dance of the whole but a fatal disease. In all cases, an extraordinary tour to remake and remake... Return to Rurre, dirty, tired but happy, and animals deep full in our eyes...
Alti-Plano
The departure of Rurrenabaque for La Paz with the plane TAM (company of the Bolivian army) occurred in a field ( with grass ) close to Rurre. The arrival in La Paz was very impressive, we have the impression to be posed on a small handkerchief at the bottom of a volcano. Rurre this is 300 m of altitude and 34 °C, La Paz is 4400 m and 0 °C... the good days, what to cut the breath ! and that cuts it...We throw oneself on the subdued first of Coca which is presented, then another, then another... arggg, that starts to make us laugh, it is hot, it is good, and it is authorized!!! Then for 4 bolivianos we buy a cover polar in the terminal of the buses and we engulfs in... a furnace!!! the bus-cama is hyper heated, for a little we believed to die! we arrange covering, Damart and a large quickly made sweater. La Paz - Sucre is at least 14 hours of road, but it is asphalted road...! not quite broad, but smooth. Travel by night very testing, the road passes several places at more than 5000 mts.
Sucre is a rather large city at 2700 m, here the climate is serene. University town since a while, it has a hue rather "cool",we like to trail there a long time on its place, the Indians come to propose their craft industry, always sympathetic nerves. Very pretty market opposite our hotel, with excellent fruit juices, we find the miracle cure for the "zorroche", the PUNACAP and the ZORROCHEPILL..., we take some.
At 2 hours of bad track in the mountain, Tarabuco is a very small village in which is held each Sunday an authentic and quite pleasant market. The Indians come here by truck or walk there pushing their wheelbarrows in charge of weavings or food. Relatively little tourists for a place like that, and it is as well better, it is true as it is necessary to come there...
The Sucre - Potosi road was bordered of rather impressive crosses at the bottom of the ravines... these curves to finish moreover it on a stone track. But imposing landscapes, between the two cordilleras the " hills " are between 3 and 4000 m of altitude. We arrive at Potosi very tired but the hardest remainder to be made, to carry the mega- bag at this altitude is realy a test. We find a small acomodation charming, without comfort of course but with a pretty patio and especially full of wool-covers, it is very cold here the night.
Potosi, it is a rather pleasant average city at the bottom of Cero Rico (4700m), finally... it was rico, it does not have there more silver in its entrails since awhile, only some men are baited on a purely individual basis, they make visit " their " mine. Here, the conquistadors killed, violated, controlled.... 6 million other men. An holocaust to enrich Europe, with the withdrawn silver of Cero Rico one could pave a motorway with 4 ways from La Paz to Madrid, and there would be approximately a corpse every 2 meters... So funny the Spanishes on a journey. Taking into account a history not very clear between our kings and queens on one side and on the other side of the Pyrenees, the large ones " gaining " this history are France and some close countries. Fortunately for the Indians Incas, Aymaras and Kechuas, the Pope in his great leniency decided one day of rosbif mayonnaise at the restaurant that perhaps the Indians were a soul... Oups ... " Not idiot that " says his friend Yan KingCrazy, then they send Blacks from Africa. There is a lot of blaks, and in more They not do not have any soul, of course. And veiled 2 small millions connected blacks... The history could to last still a long time, but it stopped because ore fault, in the last times they were horses and vapor-machines... still without souls...
In other words, there is nothing to scrape side of Potosi and if one scrapes one is extremely likely to fall on tombs. In did the fact, how much Jews die in concentration camps? Amnesia, you save us!
Casa de la Moneda where the ore was transformed into parts and in ingots is almost the only testimony of this massacre. The paving stones still show the traces of the feet of the slaves, for little one would intend them to groan under the blows of whips. But the Bolivian one is nice and the visit is "kind". Not only one monument with the slaves in this city, very strange... the single stele of the country is in La Paz, on the Placa of los Heroes, at the side of Simon Bolivar. Yes you win !!! it is that, Bolivar - > Bolivia, you get right to return in second week...
A 1500 depth m crater in the medium of a circus dominated by nodes of more than 6000 m of altitude, the solid mass of Illampu, splendid with its eternal snow. A city of a million inhabitants, at the top " el alto " the working districts close to the airport, shantytowns, in the bottom the shopping areas, the climate is softer there. Markets and banks, rather vain, some modern buildings make contrast with sloping and malodorous lanes. The upper town communicates with the low city by vertiginous dirt tracks. There is a motorway well, but it is paying. Little font, astonishing thing, it is a reality in all the country. Close to the center, the district of the witches, surprising, we find there Pachamamas in phenomenal quantity, and all the ustensils for the perfect " bruja ". Phoetus of spangled dried, various grasses, " palo sacro ", magic potteries. The crowned colors of Pachamama make rainbows everywhere, here, that smell very bad but it is very beautiful. Unforgetable moments.
La Paz is pleasant to live, the lot of pedestrians clear a passage through the constant congestions. The markets are very pretty, clean, we tasted an excellent roasted fish there.
The lake of Incas, at 4000 m of altitude, an inland sea with icy water. Natural border between Peru and Bolivia, rich in fish, it is little or not exploited, however its trouts are succulent. The Indians often go there to celebrate the rites of their religion. The Virgin was confused with Pachamama, it east can be that the religious, funny religious synchretism and alchemy which consists in taking the images of the catholic religion imposed by the conquistadors while keeping his INCA soul preciously,since centuries. On the edge of the lake, near Copacabana, a rosary was substituted at a religious site Aymara, the Indians come here to deposit in the rocks the offerings or miniatures carefully wrapped. The cathedral of Copacabana replaced an INCA's temple, this one contained largest emerald of the INCA's treasure, suspected of having magic powers it was burst in small pieces by the Christian priests.... Oupps...
We came here with Pablo, a guide from La Paz, character extraterrestrial, anarchistic, provocative, but a superficial sensitivity as soon as it speaks about Pachamama, Incas, the injustice, the children, His Bolivia... still an unforgettable meeting. Before eating, he threw on the ground some drops of its beer, closing the eyes (impossible with a carpet...) To Pachamama !... On the Sun island we saw the remainders of an INCA's temple, full of symbolics.
Salars and South Lipez
Uyuni is an old mining city, therefore rather not pretty. It made an arctic cold there probably all along the year, an icy wind sweeps the battered streets. It is the passage obliged for going in the Salars and the South Lipez. A lot of agencies propose tours from 3 to 5 days for price always such ridiculous. For those which have time, it is possible to make the rise of Licancabur (6000 m) or to cross the border for Chile. We leave at 5 fellows in an about acceptable 4x4. The driver is accompanied by his girlfriend who will make the kitchen, they are adorable.
From the beginning, there are of them full the mince-pies, extended perfectly punt with some vicunas which remain distant. The track stops at the edge of Salar... and there it is a big enchantement ! a large salt desert like Switzerland, as far as the eye can see. Pink and bluish reflections, unimaginable, indescribable vision that this one. We would need an ocean of Tequila to swallow all this salt ! Here, in a small village, a hundred people still live of the culture of salt.
The history of salt starts with the rain on the Salar, this one made go up salt on the surface, the thickness varies from few centimetres to forty french-meters (?) , this crust remains fragile and many are the accidents. Men scrape with the pickaxe the crust to make of them heaps which will dry with the sun then they bring these heaps by truck in a factory that we visit. Salt is dried with a wood fire, they add ioda to it to make it clean for human consumption, one puts it out of sachets of one kilo approximately, of course the whole job with the hands. Of course it is not profitable... it is SMO and the UNICEF which buys salt thus produced, marking on the packages is eloquent. If it were necessary to have a doubt about the utility of the caritatives organizations, this doubt is raised, wish that that be able to continue thus a long time. Funny vision that these workmen going by bicycle to the site culture on this white extent, something of unreal, an unknown dimension.
At 4000 m the sun is very strong, the reverberation on immaculate salt roasts all. The nights are terribly cold, we would be believed in the compartment freezer of a refrigerator. In the middle of Uyuni's Salar, an hotel of Salt, completely out of the time, built exclusively out of salt bricks, we remained there, only tourists to taste pleasure with the charm of the white desert. A few kilometers further the isla del Pescado, covered of giant cacti with phallic forms, only vegetation in this corner of Salar.
One day, here, there will be an enormous mine... indeed under salt, lie the greatest lithium reserve of the world... Let us hope that this day there will not come too soon.
The South-Lipez is the southern point of Bolivia, frontier of Chile. We chose the formula 4 days 3 nights, alas time is counted to us. Laguna bianca, laguna colorada, verde, there is of all the colors! we travel in a universe magnifiquement encircled by volcanos, made iridescent rocks, villages with always cordial greeting. Pink Flemish colony Jame's, unique in the world, gulls whose presence surprises. We were astonished by the life which manages to persist here at 4500 mts. Of spangled, by vicunas, the alpacas, the chinchillas... A whole life around the brackish lagoons.
At 5000 m, our breath is short but the geysers do not cease spitting their vapor, we are on a pressure-cooker, the gloves in LAMA are not enough to avoid gelures with the hands. Vision of daydream with the colors watercolours. Licancabur is reflected in its lagoon, we remain stuck in front of such an amount of beauty...
Unforgettable meetings still in these small villages of the end of the world where we make stopover each night. A nandou, a child, it is like a postcard. Children with the naked feet, forgotten from the " civilized " world, laugh and have fun while carrying a bouquet of trigo (cereal) which will be used to make a rich and very good soup. Death in the heart we eat a piece of LAMA, poor LAMA... but it is very good.
On the road of the return towards urban civilization, we stop in San Fernando, this city was entirely moved to leave its old site to a silver mine. It is a Canadian company which will work this mine... Still the demonstration of the incredible waste of the Bolivian resources.
Since Uyuni, we travel by the train to Oruro and finaly La Paz, the herds of lamas agitate the wool ends on their ears to say to us... GOODBYE...
... and we will return there !