Relaxation in Salvador

So if I were to summarize the week between Carnaval and the start of orientation, I could probably do so with about one word: beach. But it was certainly fun, and for those of you more interested in the various happenings on said beach, continue reading...

Natalie, Andres and I met up with Ray on the next day. Ray seems like a very cool, down to earth guy, and once we had met him, we set out for the beach, for neither the first nor the last time. We walked along the beach, chatted, and sunk our feet into the warm sand.

The next day, we met up with the other major group who had come early for Carnaval. Carmen, Khalya, Arissa, and Fiona. Oddly enough, and one of the big coincidences of this trip, I already knew Fiona; we went to high school together. We met up and spent a great day on the beach, just relaxing and reading. I am not a great swimmer, and everyone was treading water, deep in the ocean. While fortunately I am a strong enough swimmer to save my life, and I did join them, for every stroke they took I felt like I had to take five. Soon tired, I went to the shore, and decided it would be cool to be able to do a handstand. I had never done one before, but I had plenty of time, so I just kept jumping up, failing, jumping up, failing, and as the sun waned I was still jumping up and failing. But I actually started to get it by the end, and I decided to join the group after that. From then on, I resolved to work on handstands just a little bit each time I go to the beach, and my resolution has surprisingly held steadfast, although as I write I have not been to the beach as much (class and all).

This is a picture of the beach from Carmen's apartment 

The sun eventually went down, and our hunger pangs had long since commenced. As clamors rose for food, we began our search. Carmen and Khaylah, decided to go with the food at hand, a rather expensive (by Salvador standards) restaurant, and the rest of us felt cheap, so we decided to go to Habib's, the restaurant Andres said was close by. We walked down the street, with danger levels steadily increasing with the gathering darkness. Up one street, across another, right left, etc, we winded our way deeper into the city, with us asking for directions in our broken portuguese, and them sending us to multiple different habib's. Just as murmurs of rebellion and just giving up for McDonald's (yeah, it is here too) were growing, we sighted the following beautiful sight:

Notice how dark it is... it was pitchblack, and we were hungry!! In Habib's there were multiple advertisements for different types of food, and it all looked so delicious in a way that only commercials can make it (especially with a lot of exercise and not too much food under your belt). I was really hungry so I basically tried just about every item on the menu that I didn't know how it would taste, which actually was a lot, and I ended up eating all of it, and then proceeded to act as the garbage disposal of the table, volunteering myself for half finished milkshakes and the like.

We actually decided to go night swimming after that, and enjoyed a cool dip in the ocean.

We met up with the group again the next day, went to the beach again, read and did handstands again. I was very adept at finding things with my feet that day. I was able to find two separate rocks with my feet, one while swimming, and I kicked a shallow rock, and one while doing a handstand, and as I fell down, landing on the corner of my foot, and finding a rock. I also had the good fortune to find a sea urchin with my foot, and I gingerly stepped around things after that.

The sunsets were pretty awesome!

We went to a fish festival afterwards in a hip area of town known as Rio Vermelho. Getting a dinner of tapioca crepe things, we sat in Rio Vermelho, enjoying the sights and sounds. We tried to help a dog out and give it some food, but it quite visibly refused it. We placed several different food items ranging from shrimp to veggies, and it pushed the plate away. Afterwards, in the actual fish festival (and I wasn't really sure what to expect either, I mean, this place could be really fishy ;) ) , it turned out to be a concert of sorts. At first we kind of moved with the music, but rather staidly, so I decided to join the fray, and we had conga lines and (tame) mosh pits. We also met a Brazilian gay man, who was thinking that the guys in the group, including me, were gay, me mainly because I was wearing a collared shirt, which apparently in Brazil screams gay. The things you learn right. He actually turned out to be a pretty cool guy named Andre, and he has promised to take us out to a real samba place.

The next day, guess what......drum roll please......MORE BEACH

I will say that life was pretty idyllic during that period. I mean, who can complain when they have a cool coconut in their hand, lying down on a beach on the coast of Salvador, Brazil?

We practiced some of the Brazilian dances, and Khaylah taught me how to correctly pop lock and drop it (important stuff for any future employer, really marketable skills that). Fiona, Ray and I went nightswimming after that again, and this time it really pushed my limits as a swimmer. I am actually a terrible swimmer, always having some fear or inability (not really sure why I am so bad at it). We swam out to a pier of sorts, and had to lift ourselves over the slimy, and slippery rocks, which was easier said than done. Crawdads or some similar aquatic looking cockroach were swarming along the sides, so it was kind of interesting to see. We all swam out further, and finally made it to a set of boats that were moored in the ocean. We climbed aboard, and Fiona and Ray continued on out, while I decided to head back early and call it a night. We ended up crashing at the girl's apartment that night; I slept on the tiled floor.

On the last day before the program, Ray, Andres and I just chilled around the apartment, relaxing before the start of the program and the end to our freedom.

We had A LOT of time on our hands

And then it was orientation...

Carnaval!! Part 2

Day 2

After staying out so late the night previously, we had quite the slow wakeup. We mobilized by about 4 pm, and actually got to Barra around 5, where we had a delicious meal at Habibs, a fastfood restaurant with a Brazillian twist. We thought about buying a bloco shirt, but they were asking on the order of two hundred to 300 reales (100 to 200 dollars) which struck us as fairly expensive, especially under a college student budget. After some street food we watched a beautiful sunset over the water

Again, the people watching is what you come to look for and expect in Carnaval. And day 2 did not disappoint. There was this one man in a skin tight, very small female swim suit, and it was evident that this was relatively a new costume for him, as he had a strong short short tanline going. The crowd was people watching as well. Multiple times, there would be a gaggle of people gathering, taking pictures of some person in the camarote. One woman in particular was giving people a heart sign and dancing, and everyone was reciprocating....except us. We could tell that these were famous people, but who, well, I am not versed in Brazilian pop culture. One other amusing thing was that there were people trying to get in the camarote from the ground. Considering that they had to surmount a 14 ft wall, it was rather impressive. One man was boosting another, and I imagine the people sitting in the camarote were somewhat surprised to see a face popping up in front of theirs.

Fairly obsessive about knowing what time it is, I glanced down and checked my pocket, and sadly enough, there was no watch to be had. I suppose it helps me get in the moment, but still, it was a shame to lose the watch to the mass of Carnaval.

After composing a dinner of streetfood yet again, feeling the feet yet again, we called it a night around 2 and took a late night taxi.

late night taxi again, feet again

Day 3

For the third day, we decided to go for a bit of a change of pace. There are two main circuits for Carnaval, the circuit for Barra, and the circuit for Campo Grande. Thus far, we had only been going to Barra, and were up for a change of pace. Plus, there was a girl from our program named Leah that we wanted to meet up with.

so we found a bus to Campo Grande. It was apparent immediately that this was a sketchier neighborhood, just based on the dilapidated buildings. The bus carried us along a windy road, through a tunnel, and we emerged in campo grande. With our hands clasping our wallets securely, we made our way through a large crowd. I felt a little bit more out of place here, because I was the only white face (with the exception of our group) in a sea of black faces.

We were trying to meet up with Natalie, but had no real idea where her hotel was. We asked the military police to point us in the correct direction, and with only a couple of overshots, found ourself in a dark alley under an overpass. We were on the right street, but the numbering system was really weird.  48 , 26 , 7 , 4 , 236. We were lucky, because we were looking for 236, but that kind of numbering system has the potential to get one lost really quickly. We actually were only 5 minutes late, so Leah was still there, and enthusiastically greeted us and showed us into her hotel.

People watching today: there were lots of men with water guns, and they would squirt their waterguns (sounds dirty) at the women that they fancied. There were lots of men in drag again, and this time, some of them had wigs, so you couldn't really be sure if you were looking at the back of a woman or a man. Some of the men in drag were actually doing what I call the booty volcano, basically shaking their ass up and down in a way that I thought only women could.

One old man, in sultan garb, liked our group, and gave me one of those never ending handshakes, one of those handshakes where you are like, ok already, you can let go. I got a ring of white beads out of the bargain, so it worked out all right in the end.

Rather than one main stretch, as was the case with Barra, instead there were multiple different streets converging to Campo Grande, which basically meant people converging from every different direction. I would say that it was more mobile, and you could really pursue whichever bloco you wanted to. Some of the blocos featured people in very traditional african looking clothing and coordinated dancers. Some of the blocos had professional dancers on top, which created a show to sit and watch. As we were moving between blocos, a drag man attached himself to Leah, and while really nice,  wouldn't leave her for the whole night. He was very protective of her and the group, leading us away when there was the potential for danger.

There was more potential for danger in the Campo Grande carnaval than Barra. Between street fights erupting, one man getting kicked while down (I got the impression that he had stolen something) military police raining down blows, and incessant pickpocketing, Campo Grande was certainly more gritty. It also felt real, authentic, genuine. Especially when a man crashed into me, and while apologizing, a sly young kid tried to reach into my pocket. Fortunately for me, I have a traveler's wallet, so I didn't have to worry on that account

This was probably my favorite night of carnaval in terms of dancing. For some reason, (maybe because they play a slightly different type of music in Campo Grande) the music clicked with me. I danced hard and long on the third day, so hard that I even drew a bit of a crowd. We had a dance circle going, with everyone in it from an old granny to the drag man to me. I think people were congratulating me at the end, but I couldn't really tell because they were speaking portuguese. I understood the thumbs up though, and that was good enough for me. I have no idea whether I was doing real samba or not, but I was doing my best imitation, and had fun while doing it.

Of course, eventually, nature calls. I had to go pee, and finding a place in the midst of carnaval is pretty difficult sometimes. Andres and I eventually found the public porto-potties, but these things were filthy. The ground was covered in 'water' and I held my breath, but soon I was out, eating yet more street food.

The night, while great, was soon over, and we walked Leah back to her hotel.

Day 4
I have to say, Day 3 was probably the best day for me. Day 4 was a series of trying to meet up with people and failing. For the beginning of the day, we were waiting around for Ray, another kid from our program that was supposed to arrive via plane early that day. In short, he didn't. We waited around until about 5 pm when he messaged us to say he wouldn't make it that day; his flight had been delayed. 

And we set off on the bus. We were trying to meet up with Leah, and when we got bloco t shirts, decided to buy her an extra one. We failed in meeting her too. After waiting about 50 minutes in the appointed place, we moved on (sadly, she came 60 minutes in, to the secondary meeting place). Specific blocos are difficult in the sense that you need to be actually with the right one, rather than dancing next to a random one. Our bloco was long ahead of us, so we virtually sprinted along the side streets to catch up. We danced with the bloco for a while, and then nature called yet again. I had to go pee, and bad, so I told the group to remain in the bloco, and set off to find another porto-pottie. I found one rather quickly, but finding the group was another matter. I spent the next hour scanning the crowd, weaving back and forth looking for Natalie and Andres. The reason I looked so hard was mostly because they had the keys, and I don't feel like being locked out of the apartment all night.

Just as I was about to give up, I found Andres and shortly after I found Natalie. We danced in the crowd, and there were these flamboyantly gay men clad in green who were organizing a big group of people. They showed us set dances, and even started virtual mosh pits, holding everyone back, and then organizing a charge. Definitely a fun part of the night! Our bloco eventually ended, and we kept joining other blocos after that. We were dancing at the end as one of the blocos concluded. And somehow (not really sure how this came about, a lot of gay men started making out. I am fine with this, that is until one of them grabbed my ass. I shook my head, yet he proceeded to do it twice more with a very suggestive wink. I squirmed into the crowd to escape, and soon after Natalie and I (we had lost Andres by that point, he rejoined us later) called it a night, the end of the last night of Carnaval.

                                 These are my shoes post Carnaval....I bought them new the day I left for South America

Bus and part 1 of CARNAVAL!!

  The disappointing thing about this blog post is that I really don't have that many pictures, as taking photos of buses is wholly dissatisfying and taking pictures of Carnaval, which perhaps would make for better pictures, is not quite safe (for the camera, for me, for most parties involved). Plus, sometimes you just want to be in the experience, rather than behind a lens.

      With that brief preface, I can go into cataloguing experiences up to and through carnaval. First I had to get there. Carnaval had been the only tangible dates of my entire trip, with the exception of Machu Picchu. That meant that to fully enjoy it, I needed to get there on time. I got out of the Pantanal on the 6th, booked a bus to Campo Grande, I mostly talked with the Russian couple I mentioned earlier, who had the most adorable accents (think verrry strong russian accent). When I realized that there was space on the bus from campo grande to Brasilia, I jumped on that and went straight, never really leaving the Campo Grande bus station. 

Two initial impressions of Brazil. One, after coming off of traveling in Bolivia for a week and a half, it is hard to get used to the prices. Well, actually the prices are pretty similar. 10 Bolivianos for a sandwhich, and maybe 10 reals for the same sandwich. The problem is that I convert back to dollars, and you divide bolivianos by 7 and reales by 2, which makes bolivianos much more friendly. Other thing: no one speaks english (or at least the lowest amount of English speakers I have ever seen in my travels) Even the tourist agency doesn't speak english, so trying to ask for information is a bit more of an ordeal. My Portuguese, although virtually non existent compared to my spanish, can get by, with the addition of a hearty amount of waving and miming. 

In Brasilia, the capital, I had an overpriced taxi to an overpriced hotel where I then had an overpriced dinner. (I am still really used to my old prices). I caught up on fb, blog, etc while I was there -- the wonders of the modern world-- and then the next morning caught yet another 24 hour bus ride to Salvador. There was an annoying drip that came from the ceiling, and every 10 seconds, another drop would come down---not conducive to sleeping. 

I was slightly worried about meeting up with the people I were staying with, Natalie and Andres, because all I knew was the address. I hadn't even informed them about when I was getting in, because with the 24 hour bus rides, the arrival is not a fixed 24 hours but can range from 22 to 26 or 27. We did meet up, and then it was time for Carnaval. I will do my best in describing it, but really, Carnaval is summed up in a series of moments and images, although unfortunately, given the high number of thefts that occur, it was not quite worth it for me to bring my camera (so I don't have the images).

We had to get there first. The bus station was packed; it was evident that we were not the only people going to carnaval. There are two main circuits of carnaval, and for day one, we decided to go to Barra. It was quite the discouraging feeling to see multiple buses pass, all marked Barra, and all completely full. We eventually found a bus that would take us on, even though it was quite full as well which meant a crammed bus ride.

People people people... there were a lot of people, a thing that remained common across all of Carnaval. I suppose that makes sense though, as a few years ago Guinness book of world records declared the Carnaval in Salvador to be the largest street party in the world with 2 million people flocking to carnaval each year. So, everywhere associated with Carnaval was packed.

I am first going to lay out the basic organization of Carnaval in Salvador.bThere are different options you can do, from camarotes which are watching the parade go by (it didn't sound as fun and you pay exorbitant sums) to pipoca, popcorn, which is just be in the crowd along the side, and constantly be in a crowd, or blocos (identified by a special t shirt), which are associated with a specific truck people who hold up the rope to keep the popcorn out of the bloco.

One of the best things to me about carnaval is the people watching. The variety in costumes is crazy. Some people are covered in clothing, some people go with a bra and shorts. By far the most entertaining, and surprisingly prevalent, was the large amount of cross dressing. Men would wear by female standards fairly scandalous clothing, basically a skirt and a bra, and would be covered in makeup and mascara. One group of these men was carrying a large foam dick, using it to clear a way through the crowd. There was a coordination across all 4 days for many men to wear a mixture of sultan/ bathrobe attire ( although they are basically the same thing), and lots of beads. These men would try to lasso women with their beads, trying to kiss random strangers. One thing that I saw more than once was a condom earring, where the condom was in its wrapper, and a stud sandwiched it to the ear, as if to advertise to the world that they were ready if need be (although I hope that the condom wasn't punctured...).

As we witnessed this spectacle, we (Natalie, Andres and I) were walking along the sides, dancing in the front, and in general, making merry. We ate street food as we got hungry, and the street food was delicious, everything from meat kabobs to grilled corn. We had to dodge puddles along the way and trust me---you don't want to step in the puddles, you have no idea what they are and you don't really want to know. There was one grassy area along the main strip, and there was just a solid wall of men urinating. In the actual crowd, you would sometimes be sprayed by liquid, and you would always pray, please let it be water, please let it be water. Sometimes it was, and sometimes some guy thought it would be entertaining to dance very hard with a beer.

The other very notable thing was the military police. They walked in a line, with stern expressions on their faces and night sticks in their hands. You didn't want to get in the way of these guys, and sometimes, they would have men cuffed up, sullenly walking between them, or they would be carrying extremely drunk women.

At some point during the night, I acquired a yellow hat,  and we continued to dance until about 2. As our collective feet were quite sore, we decided to call it a night, and found a taxi to conclude the first night of carnaval.

I realized as I wrote this post that I am going to have to split it up, because there is still a lot to share about the rest of carnaval. Look for my next blog post hopefully soon.

pantanal and border crossing

After another overnight bus, I arrived at quijarro, a random border town. Sad to leave Bolivia, I was even sadder to see a long line mounting before the border (just the beginning of said line above). I went to the back, and quickly came to realize that the border had not even opened yet. Fortunately, there were a group of fellow tourists behind me, Irish men who had just finished their studies, and we chatted until the line slowly, slowly, moved forward. And soon we were through. I had heard a horror story about this border prior to the crossing at my previous hostel, so I was slightly worried. However, the crossing from Bolivia to Brazil initially wasn't all that bad. Here is the border.(below)

 

It was the above sight that scared us. And really, what was scary was that this was merely the beginning of it; the line stretched and stretched, all around the station in a rectangle almost as big as a full size basket ball court. The scariest part however, was the fact that the line moved hardly at all, moving a sum of a meter in about half an hour. The irish men and I observed a group of tourists ahead of us getting out of line and soon after, getting their passports stamped and handed back in an orderly fashion. We were like, how do we do that too. A fat man who actually spoke decent english explained the set up, we had to pay 25 reales a piece, and our passports would be stamped similarly. Given the length of the line, we were inclined to say yes. I ended up behind a car, having given my passport to an official, paying the money. The man with our money drove off, and I had a sinking feeling that we had just been ripped off, minus passports and some money. Fortunately, that was not the case, and soon we got our passports back. Getting a taxi, we were more than ready to skidaddle (read:leave) and we did.

We went to a by the kilo all you can eat place, and I ate about a kilo of delicious food.

My atm card had a bit of an issue (the machines won't accept my money), but I had enough reales to make it, so I will try to resolve that problem later.

I found a hotel, bid adieu to my erstwhile friends, and tried to find a set up for the superbowl. It was a pretty discouraging game (For the 49ers fans at least) I heard some commotion at about half time, so I decided that might be a bit more interesting than the game. In short, they were. 

These are some men, sporting some fairly impressive afros

just the hustle and bustle of a fairly busy street

But then it all started to get organized. Carnaval had started (a week earlier than I expected) Music, marching, dancing. It was all pretty cool/

This was a woman dancing. As the parade passed by, a crowd gathered behind them. In one of those, why not decisions, I decided to join them. At first we walked, but as the music played, many of the people started dancing. I did as well, just copying what the other guys were doing, and soon, I was dancing the Brazilian samba (or my approximation at least). One guy tried to stop us, but fortunately we had a matronly woman with us who pleaded successfully with him to let us continue. We danced a solid hour or two, and I even got back in time for the best part of the game.

Next on to the pantanal, the world's largest wetlands

We had some bumpy roads first

But when we got there, there was a dinner of piranhas.

We were then the people to fish for the piranhas, and I actually caught my first fish, although I will still contend that fishing is not my strongest skill. 

Like I said, fishing is not my best skill

We saw a caiman, a small relative to the crocodile

And then we took a boat cruise of the pantanal

The water reflected the sky

And shown again

And soon it was the night of the second day. The major problems so far...mosquitos, and heat. So many bites. So many. It got to the point that we would wear full jeans

You might be wondering what those things are in the water...

This should answer that question. You seriously do not want to swim here.

We were in the caiman lake, and fortunately they are incredibly lazy so we had nothing to fear

We trekked through the jungle for a couple of hours, spotting all types of bird, including this parrot

It may have been hot, we may have been itching from mosquito bites, but I will end on this: PUPPY!

sucre and santa cruz

I arrived in sucre after a quick bus from potosi, not even staying the night in potosi. I found a hostel in sucre, and decided to try my hand at exploring the city in a day, before my next bus to santa cruz left.

Weirdly enough, there was what looked like a giant nest in the middle of the city...

Stopped for lunch, and had a delicious chorizo sandwich. Guess how much it cost.... about 10 bolivianos, so about a dollar and a half. I have to say, if there was ever a country for traveler's on a budget, Bolivia is the country for them. It has lots of beautiful sights while at the same time being insanely cheap. Taxis are cheap, you can generally take a taxi for about 2 dollars, hostels are cheap, you can get a room for like 5 dollars, and even the adrenaline thrills I got in some of my other posts have been cheap (relatively at least). 

Someone mentioned there was a castle right outside of town, so I decided to go to it. I was waiting on the wrong corner, or maybe the bus really didn't like me... regardless, I had to chase down the mini bus to get me there (fortunately they are pretty slow and there was some traffic). Here is a picture of the "castle". I walked around a bit, but it wasn't that impressive. I guess I had in my mind one of the large European castles with ramparts, portcullis, and spires, so I left relatively quickly.

I left the castle, wandered around sucre for a little, and found a pullup bar and a man named mario  (pictured) doing dips on the dip bars. I couldn't resist, so I joined him for a quick workout, making a friend in the process. 

More wandering plus a taxi took me to the central fruit market. I really liked the smell here, full of fragrance, one could almost taste the peach.

I didn't like the smell as much here. I am not really sure what these meat like substances are, and I am not sure I want to know.

This was definitely one of my more favorite moments of the trip. I found a smoothy stand in the middle of the fruit market, and after all my wanderings through the city and the various busing, I was ready to just relax. I did just that. Sitting with my kindle, reading, and drinking as much smoothy as my heart desired. The smoothy was fresh, delicious and it was only 50 cents. Not only that, the smoothy also came with a free refill. And there was a live band playing. Life is good.

Do you ever have those moments where things happen, but you are not really sure what the individual event means, and multiple of those events happen, without you connecting them. Then, a person explains it to you, and it all makes sense. Well that happened to me. I noticed in the market boys squirting each other with water guns. Actually, I noticed that several times. As I was walking with some fellow tourists, there was a waterballon thrown at us from a car, and we were merely like "rude". And then ,as I am walking back to my hostel, yet more kids are shooting each other with water guns. One of the kids tells me it is their Carnaval upon asking, and comes along with me to buy water balloons. Kid that I am, I join them. I fill up a cooking pot full of water balloons, and join the fray. These people above are my stalwart foes. It is a lot of fun. I have superior running and throwing power, but they have better machinery with their giant supersoakers, so it is an even match. I try to make an alliance with the girl to my left to get the other boys, but she shoots me in the back, and retaliating, it becomes a free for all. Twenty minutes later, drenched but exuberant, I return to the hostel, and get ready to go to Santa Cruz. 

And then begins yet another adventure, this one slightly less positive than some others. I get off the taxi, and try to find a fare for Santa Cruz. Now, I am wholly a proponent for comfortable night buses, and generally, I am willing to pay the extra 10 dollars to have that "luxury". And since I would prefer to save money, I have avoided the plane, even though people in the hostel were talking about how the plane was only 100 dollars. However, the bus company that I wanted to take had already left, and the only other company in the vicinity had only one ticket left, yet for only semi cama (not the luxury version). I didn't want to be stranded in sucre, so I went for it. I should have read the time on the ticket more carefully though. As soon as I got it, I realized it was for like five minutes, and they said their bus was the green one. I run over to the bus terminal and see a green bus leaving, my spirits dropping, because my bags are on that bus as well. I learned to my relief that that was not the right bus, and the right bus had not arrived yet. Pacified temporarily, I waited for the right bus, and checked with the other people to make sure it was the right bus this time. I got on, and knew already that this was not the luxury bus. The chairs were narrow, and mine didn't recline. But it was the fellow passengers that told me it would be a long ride. In the seats in front of me, there was a mother and her baby, and in the seats behind me, there was a mother and her baby. I was also seating right above the wheel axle, so with every jolt from the road I was lifted a foot from my seat. I sat, sandwiched by squalling infants, jostled by the road (or lack thereof, it was often nothing more than a dirt path), wishing fervently that I had taken the plane. There was no choice at that point, so I sat and bore it. For 16 hours. I eventually arrived in Santa Cruz, and decided to stay and rest for at least a night.

Weirdly enough, there was someone from my boxing class at CMC at the hostel, so we decided to grab lunch.

We went to an all you can eat place. I ate all I could eat.

We also went shopping where there were a bunch of creepy, weird maniquins. I love haggling (sometimes more than the actual item), so I haggled for a polo. We contemplated going on, but the sweat was dripping down at that point, so we decided to head back to the hostel and enjoy the nice pool.

These guys save lives. Fresh orange juice please and thank you. 

Spent most of the rest of the day relaxing, in the pool, playing pool, and reading. We went out as a group, and got pizza, but the nightlife was fairly dead so we returned, defeated. The next day, I woke to find my kindle had been stepped on so my solace on those long bus rides, my source of books was dead. On the bright side, maybe a message that I should start my school reading. 

Saying goodbye, I booked a bus (comfy this time) to Quijarro, a border town. Unfortunately, it was relatively late, so I had the rest of the day in Santa Cruz. More Wandering!!

The Plaza

The Park

Shoe shiners are pretty ubiquitous in Bolivia

And I stumbled upon a chess game.

I am a fan of chess, so I asked to play. Both old men were characters. I played the one on the left first, and he was definitely the worse player, but I made a really stupid mistake and gave up my queen, one of the most important pieces of the game. I wanted to give up outright, and start over, saying it would be more fun etc, but the old man either didn't understand or didn't want to, so I continued playing. Somehow, I actually managed to pull off a win. The second guy was interesting too. He kept muttering things in an amusing tone that I couldn't really understand. I played mostly silently, and after waging a war of attrition, eventually won.

I went to a bookstore, trying and failing to find a portuguese english phrasebook, but I found this instead. While it might not register as a challenge in English, in spanish, it is a challenge. I need something to occupy my time on those long bus rides.

And then, I had yet another bus to Quijarro. This I slept like a baby in, waking up as the bus arrived in Quijarro.

the infamous potosi silver mines and la paz

I woke up in the morning, striking up a conversation with a woman from Spain, who apparently had done the exact reverse trip than me. I picked her brain for details on what to do and what to not do. After breakfast, I decided to wander about La Paz (I have always found that wandering through a city is one of the best ways to get to know it).

traffic in la paz is really bad, making me glad that I am a pedestrian

I then went exploring to the witches market. Llama fetuses were prominently featured.

But I still had my day ahead of me. What to do? I remembered what some of the people who had gone to cholitas wrestling told me.

And then I decided to jump out of a building

This building:

Here is me, about to take the jump

everyone below looked like ants

It was pretty exhilarating, and the first time a bit scary. Jumping off the side of the building, bouncing my way down; I was making good progress. They stopped me at like 30 ft up or so, and let me freefall until about 5 feet. That requires a lot of trust, but as I am still typing a way, it obviously worked out for the best.

The 2nd time was still fun although it didn't have the same degree of uncertainty so it was less scary

I definitely got my adrenaline rush for the day, so after that I chilled in a cafe, reading my kindle. I ordered a smoothie at the beginning of my tenure in the cafe and by the end, had totally forgotten about it. Done with my chapter, I started to leave the cafe, but to my dismay, the barista slammed the door shut and started yelling at me in Spanish. Sheepishly, I realized I had totally forgotten to pay, so I did that promptly.

 After taking a shower etc, I met Ana's friends in the lobby just as I was about to go to dinner. As dinner with company is generally more interesting than the alternative, I asked them what their plans were. Apparently waiting was in order as they had just gotten back from mountain biking and they needed to freshen up as well. After about an hour and a half, we left in a taxi, going to a random part of town, and inevitably, it started to rain. Searching for an open restaurant amidst the deluge, we finally found a bar that also served food. Dinner was nothing too notable, but something at dinner was. I am not sure how, but the conversation turned to cocaine. Matt, the australian in our group, was talking about cocaine, and I quipped that cocaine could take you to a different place (I was joking). Matt responded, quite seriously, that while it felt good, it mostly made your nose and parts of your face numb. That shut me up for a while. They proceeded to talk about how horrendously expensive cocaine was in Europe, and how cheap it was here in Bolivia. Matt really wanted to find an underground dealership called route 36 and even said he had already purchased a gram. While I am not positive he did or not, he sniffed something in his wallet. 

This beauty is called a submarino. It is basically steamed milk with a bar of chocolate at the bottom, had it with cesar salad and llama ravioli as well as the good company of a New Zealand couple.

On the walk back, an old and wizened woman was casually sitting down on the sidewalk, wrapped up in a traditional skirt. Only after a second did I realize that a steady stream of urine was pooling under her. This is a poor country, a message that was soon to be hammered in by the mines of potosi.

But of course, first I had to get there. I had originally planned on taking the morning bus, but as that did not exist, the night bus it was. Splurging the extra 7 dollars, I went cama, the more comfortable first class option where you can fully recline. This is always a good decision, because by going on the night bus, you are essentially skipping the cost of a hostel. 

Once we arrived, I joined a german man for breakfast, and we had llama cheese. For several pieces of bread, butter, llama cheese, and a hot chocolate, I paid a sum of 1 dollar.

Of course, in potosi, the thing to do is to visit the silver mines, and to do this, I went with Silver tours, costing me less than 10 dollars.

Me suiting up

Some of the miners, with a view of potosi in the background. They were paid based on how many of these wagons full of stone they could produce. Each wagon was about a ton, and they were only paid a pittance per wagon. Their daily wage is about 13 dollars per hour.

The richness of this mine is still evident. The major mineral that they are seeking for now is zinc, but historically, they sought for silver. Approximately 45000 tons of silver were mined from Potosi. Even more sobering is the number of people who died to make that a reality. Someone quoted me 8 million, but that strikes me as high. Multiple people die from both silicosis of the lungs and mining accidents. They say that you have 10 years once you start mining, and once that time period has elapsed, more mining will literally kill you due to the build up of dust in the lungs.

Entering the mine

We walked miles deeper into the mountain

We climbed down several levels to reach the area where they were actually mining. With the altitude, the exercise was actually pretty tough. We went down 6 levels. 

The miners were steadily chipping away with their hammers. It was intense to see the present in lieu of the past historical associations that this place has. We sat in a circle and shared some bolivian whiskey (when in rome right...). That stuff is intense. It is 192 proof, or 96% alcohol, and when it goes down, you have a burning feeling through your throat. We also sheltered from the dynamite blasts, kind of like the sound of fireworks, except the sound and the feeling of the dynamite resonates through the mine. BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. I wanted to go further down, but my guide pointed out how the blasts released poisonous gases so I was like, fair point, and gave up in that quest. We soon climbed back up.

Lots of stalactites

We made some offerings to the devil to keep us safe. Ironically, there were even more dynamite blasts that we could hear, about 25 to 30.

By the end, I had gained a splitting headache and an appreciation for these miners. Remind me not to take this job if offered.

 After that, it was the bus to sucre.