El Fanoos: "The Land of My Dreams"

Dreamscape

“This is unbelievable,” Melissa uttered half whispering.
“What?” I replied.
“This. All of this. It’s like something from one of my dreams.”

As I looked around, I was suddenly more absorbed into the scene—dozens of colonial-era steam engines abandoned and rusting on a dead end track.

“You’re right,” I said. “It’s incredible.”

This epiphany soon became a common theme. Everywhere we traveled in Bolivia was accompanied by breathtaking scenery, storybook culture, and eerie encounters that sparked a sense of dreamland (and sometimes nightmarish) nostalgia.

I would have to write a book to fully describe Bolivia’s beauty. During the five weeks spent in South America’s land locked nation (Paraguay has an outlet via the Rio Paraguay), we witnessed several global superlatives: World’s Largest Salt Flat (Salar de Uyuni); World’s Highest (administrative) Capital City (La Paz); World’s Second Most Extensive High Plateau (the Altiplano—second to Tibet); and the World’s Highest Navigable Lake (Titicaca). We reveled in indigenous cultures, form the Amazonian Guarani, to the ancient pre-Incan Tihuanacu (who spawned the Aymara), and the Inca’s progeny, the Quechua. We fell from the cold, barren high plains to the sauna-like, mosquito-infested tropical lowlands and back again. Each new place brought new wonders that, when accumulated, produced and overwhelming sensation of affinity towards South America’s so-called poorest nation.

One of the most surprising discoveries was how much Bolivia’s creation resembles that of the United States. After the American Revolution a Venezuelan, born of Basque parents, by the name of Simon Bolivar traveled to Europe and the newly established United States of America to study, among other things, models of revolution. After returning to South America he joined the growing trend for liberation from colonial powers. His military campaigns eventually carried him to Alti Peru (Upper Peru), as Bolivia was called under colonial rule. Joining with contemporary liberators—namely Jose de Sucre for who Sucre, Bolivia’s constitutional capital, was named—the Spanish were finally defeated at the Battle of Ayachucho in modern day Peru. On that December day in 1824, four years after Jose de San Martin, liberator of Argentina and Chile, declared Peru independent, the Spanish crown had been fatally crippled in Peru. In August of the following year the Spanish were driven out of Upper Peru and the region declared independence, naming the new state “Bolivia” in honor of Simon Bolivar. The Bolivian Declaration of Independence can be viewed at the Casa de la Libertad (“House of Liberty”) in Sucre, where it was signed, and from where successive administrations governed the nascent country.

The White City

SUCRE

Sucre itself is a gorgeous city, containing block after block of colonial-style architecture. What sets it apart from other New World settlements is the ubiquitous use of white varnish, giving the city it’s nickname, La Ciudad Blanca or “The White City.” Apparently the modern building codes are very strict about exterior color schemes in order to preserve this title.

Due to a hellish 15 hour bus ride from Uyuni to Sucre—mostly over washboard dirt roads, crossing through wide washes (“We’re in the dry season, right?”), and skirting deep gorges—we opted for a 35 minute flight to the lowlands versus the 16-25 hour bus ride over equally treacherous roads. It ended up being a great investment since we were treated to outstanding service by the Bolivian airline and the aerial views inspired a new perspective on Bolivia’s wealth.

Casa de la Libertad

Bolivian Declaration of Independence

25 de Mayo Square amongst preparations for Bolivia's bi-centennial celebration

Sucre Streets

Fruit Market, Sucre

I could find no apparent reason why there's a dinosaur phone booth in the hills above Sucre, but I went with it.

Biking between mountain towns

Brilliant wildflower in the mountains above Sucre

Bathing Statues in Bolivar Park, Sucre

California Palm, Bolivar Park, Sucre

"Will Ray Park" reminded me of an abandoned fair ground lot

Abandoned Ride, Sucre

Woman selling locally made textiles

Small, wealthy suburb of Sucre

SANTA CRUZ

Santa Cruz, commercial center of the Eastern Lowlands and cultural center for Bolivia’s more western colonial descendants, is a blast into the materialist modern world. Wealthy cruceños zip through the streets in luxury vehicles and strut down the wide sidewalks flashing the newest in western style and elegance. Unlike most cities in the highlands, Santa Cruz was not designed with the pedestrian in mind. Like many cities in the United States, it’s plagued by urban sprawl to the point of necessitating a vehicle. Unless malls, movies, and humid weather are your idea of a good time, a few days is enough to spend in Santa Cruz. Yet, we did luck out to be in town for an international theater festival and the annual Easter procession.

Female federal police carrying the Virgin Mary during Santa Cruz's Easter procession

Chosen to participate in a Dutch acrobatic act during the theater festival, Santa Cruz (photo by Melissa Meyer)

Acrobat Class, Santa Cruz (photo by Melissa Meyer)

Acrobat Class, Santa Cruz (photo by Melissa Meyer)

Acrobat Class, Santa Cruz (photo by Melissa Meyer)

Welcome to Ambue Ari

AMBUE ARI

Our next leg, which we had been anticipating for months, was meant to be a highlight of our South American travels. Parque Ambue Ari, a division of Inti Wara Yassi animal refuges, is located in the dense tropical jungle six hours north of Santa Cruz. The main draw to Ambue Ari is the prospect of caring for a big cat, most of who were rescued form the wildlife trade. Unfortunately, it’s an irresistible draw and many foreigners make the remote trek here solely for the opportunity to play with a big cat. This dynamic frustrated us from first arrival.

I like to give new experiences a fair chance, so I decided up on the three-strike policy. We arrived at dinnertime and soon discovered that even though there was a vegetarian option, meat was being served and consumed by the majority of the 40 foreign volunteers. At any legitimate animal sanctuary it would be anathema to serve meat. It’s incredible ironic to dedicate one’s life to saving a few dozen animals only to destroy hundreds more feeding tourists—strike one.

That night we went to choose our work clothes, two pair of long shirts and pants. These weren’t a primary and spare pair; they were to be worn together. Upon setting out into the dense jungle the following day we realized why. Squadrons of mosquitoes and black flies wage relentless attacks from all directions, finding any patch of exposed skin and even biting through the double layer of clothing. In addition, there are flies that lay eggs under the victim’s skin, creating a pimple-like egg sack. Many volunteers also complained of a foot fungus that was “going around,” easily spread in the unhygienic conditions. It’s safe to say that I’m not a tropics person—strike two.

Praise Pachamama for mosquito netting

Since Melissa and I were only staying for two weeks, and the refuge was overloaded with volunteers for the big cats, we were put in charge of the Quarantine and Monkey Park respectively. I was responsible for a female howler monkey named Talia. Since she had attacked a few human females in her time at Ambue Ari, Talia could not be let out without a leash on orders of the Park Director, who was apparently one of the females assaulted. It was easy to see that Talia was miserable since her “play area” consisted of a wooden porch and muddy grass clearing. I’m no expert, but I’m fairly certain that monkeys need tree time to be content. Sure enough, as soon as I took the end of Talia’s leash and started climbing the surrounding trees, her mood instantly changed. She was missing something in her life that was filled by spending time in the airy forest bows. After exploring all the branches within reach and filling up on leaves, she would crawl into my lap and fall asleep. Again, I’m no behavioralist, but I’m pretty confident that Talia has no behavioral issues other than a possible grudge against the Park Director. When I asked about the potential of releasing Talia in the future (one of the park’s stated goals is rehabilitation and release into the wild, which they have done with several other howlers), the park director stated that she didn’t think Talia would ever be released—strike three. There were other examples of poor education regarding the wildlife trade (one girl wanted to buy a monkey when she got home) and the links between vegetarianism and animal care that just put icing on the cake. After four days at Ambue Ari, it was time to move on.

Melissa snuggling a Brazilian jungle cat in quarantine, Ambue Ari

Talia's cousins, who were previously released, Ambue Ari

The small mountain town of Samaipata

SAMAIPATA

With some extra time to kill, we headed to a small mountain town a few hours south of Santa Cruz. Samaipata’s main attraction is a sandstone monolith named “El Fuerte” by the Spanish. Although the exact purpose is still unclear, most archaeologists and historians believe that the Amazonian Guarani established the site on religious grounds. They cite the carved niches, possibly for idols, and the serpent-shaped drainage carved down a slope, thought to be for sacrifices. Wilder theories suggest that the site held religious significance due to its status as a launch pad for intergalactic spacecraft. Whatever its original purpose, by the time the Inca invaded, it was clearly used for worship. Large depressions were carved to hold huge golden Incan idols, which fell victim to the Spanish conquest.

El Fuerte, Samaipata

Even though El Fuerte is the main draw to Samaipata, there’s much more to do in the region. In fact, we liked the area so much that we decided to stay 10 days, a rare pause on our fast-paced journey. In addition to studying Spanish, we spent time volunteering at a local animal refuge and exploring the region’s biodiversity.

The prize for best Andean dish goes to Papas ala Huancaina, a delicious amalgamation of boiled potatoes, veggies, and peanut sauce

Purportedly Samaipata's best coca vendor

Samaipata is located at the convergence of three ecosystems—the Amazonian tropics, the frontal range cloud forests, and the high Andes. This unique location gives it perpetually perfect weather and a wealth of ecological diversity nearby. During our time there we hiked the mystical semi-tropic cloud forests of Parque Amboró, rode horses through the shrub-forested foothills, and toured the low river valleys. In our spare time we volunteered at El Refugio, an animal sanctuary founded eight years ago by a French-Swiss woman. Although we contemplated staying a month to volunteer at El Refugio and Andoriña, our quaint, Dutch-run hostel, our itinerary pulled us back into the high Andes. It would have also been nice to head further south along the “Che Trail” to see where the socialist revolutionary, Ernesto “Che” Guevara, was caught and executed by the Bolivian military. Alas, we needed something to bring us back.

Wildflower, Parque Amboró

Parque Amboró

When aggravated, this ant attaches with its pincers and secretes an acidic substance from its abdomen. Use 3-4 times daily to treat arthritis. Parque Amboró

Parque Amboró

Parque Amboró

Giant Slug, Parque Amboró

Giant Fern Tree, Parque Amboró. This species of fern has been around for millions of years.

Giant Fern Tree, Parque Amboró

Parque Amboró

Parque Amboró

Cloud Forest, Parque Amboró

The Brink (photo by Melissa Meyer)

They must have imported cheap cars from Japan then converted them to left-hand drive. Samaipata

Butterflies on Dog Scat. Samaipata

Cutting grass for horses at El Refugio, Samaipata (photo by Melissa Meyer)

Pair of Macaws, El Refugio, Samaipata

Morning in Samaipata

Chita and Ñoño, El Refugio, Samaipata

Shortcut into town, Samaipata

This owl monkey, rescued from the pet trade, was blinded by an unknown cause. El Refugio, Samaipata

Looking across to Parque Amboró from the Volcanes area

An "accidental" fire swept across this area of forest so the 4-star Eco Resort next store decided to expand its golf course. How convenient.

Volcanes

Volcanes

Volcanes

River Crossing. Not everyone made it across dry. Volcanes

Doesn't get more raw than fungus growing from feces. Volcanes

Cannonball! Volcanes (photo by Melissa Meyer)

Melissa and Chita. El Refugio, Samaipata

Perfect size. Perfect weather. Perfect spot. Samaipata

Sandwiched between the frontal ranges and the high Andes, smog is often trapped over Cochabamba.

COCHABAMBA

One long, cold bus ride later we arrived in Cochabamba, the center of Bolivia’s coca trade (most coca used for cocaine is grown around Cochabamba, while coca grown for natural consumption is cultivated in the Yungas region north of La Paz). Our pause here had one purpose, to find a way to Torotoro National Park. Located roughly 140 km south of Cochabamba, Torotoro is known predominantly for paleontology, with a treasure trove of dinosaur tracks from the cretaceous period stamped into the area’s mudstone. However, the area is also known for its biological diversity and geologic beauty. During our stay we explored the Umajalanta Caverns, home to hundreds of vampire bats and schools of blind catfish, and hiked through the Grand Canyon-esque Torotoro Canyon, witnessing the endemic and endangered Red-Fronted Macaw. It was a lightening tour, lasting only one day, but well worth the 8 hours round trip by rental car. As an added bonus, I got to practice my rally skills in our Suzuki Grand Vitara over the windy cobblestone and dirt roads leading to Torotoro.

Freeze Fountain, Cochabamba

Sidewalk Foosball, Cochabamba

Bi-pedal carnivore tracks, Torotoro National Park

Morning Sky, Torotoro National Park

Gazing into Umajalanta Cavern, Torotoro National Park (photo by Melissa Meyer)

Staring out of Umajalanta Cavern, Torotoro National Park

Tight Squeeze, Umajalanta Cavern, Torotoro National Park

Demonstrating how the footsteps were made, although according to "experts" they're from a quadrupedal Diplodocus.

Torotoro Canyon

El Vergel, Torotoro Canyon

Paleontologists believe these tracks were made by the armadillo-like Ankylosaurus.

Early morning in Cochabamba

El Prado, Cochabamba

Mercado de Ferias, where Melissa's bag was "slashed", Cochabamba

Mt. Illimani looming above downtown La Paz. The famous peak is the beacon that guides Paceños (residents of La Paz) home.

LA PAZ

Time was ticking. We had a little over a week before meeting a friend in Cuzco, Peru, and we had yet to see the “World’s Highest Capital,” La Paz. Officially, Sucre is Bolivia’s capital. Over the years, however, La Paz has become the de facto administrative center, housing most of the ministries.

La Paz, like any city, is divided into sections—the business district, the upper-class residential area, the commercial strip, tourist town (where the “witches market” is located), and the working class suburbs that have climbed the steep basin walls and spilled out onto the Altiplano 400m above. Although quite busy during the day, the streets were virtually deserted when we arrived at 11 PM. In April, with winter quickly approaching in the high Andes, it’s not monsters in the shadows that keep people indoors, but the drastic drop in temperatures that nightfall brings. Some of the only people who brave the cold are party-hearty tourists who scurry between bars and clubs until the eastern sky is light. We learned right away that La Paz is a party town.

Our Irish-owned hostel had the party started when we arrived. Talking to some friends who I had met a few weeks prior in Samaipata, I learned that parties start at 10 PM every night of the week and go until sunrise. This is of course aided by certain stimulants that are cheap and easy to obtain in one of the largest coca-producing countries. Since it’s not our scene, we retired and focused our efforts on the plethora of physical and cultural activities in and around La Paz.

These included, but were not limited to: downhill biking the “World’s Most Dangerous Road”; browsing the herbal and sacrificial offerings at the witches market; learning about the incredible healthful properties of the coca leaf at the Coca Museum; watching luchadores battle it out with hardy Andean women at Cholita Wrestling; and marveling at the ruins of Tihuanacu, birthplace of Andean culture. We left La Paz with a lot on the plate. There are endless days of biking, mountaineering, climbing, hiking, cultural experiences, and exploring in and around one of the world’s most interesting and diverse cities. Like the Che Trail in southern Bolivia, La Paz’s wealth of activities gives us an excuse to come back. Lake Titicaca was calling. What, for me, felt like an obligatory stop—“Might as well see the World’s Highest Navigable Lake while we’re here”—turned into a magical experience.

Rooftops, La Paz

Dried llama fetuses (to be planted under new buildings to ward off evil spirits), stone idols, and illegal pelts - Witches Market, La Paz

Locals absorbed in Cholita Wrestling, La Paz

Cotton Candy, Cholita Wrestling Match, La Paz

The Cholitas

Rallying the Crowd

Flying Cholita

Bolivian girl guarding her mother's drying San Pedro cactus. The plant contains mescaline, a hallucinogen used in local religious ceremonies.

Dried llama fetuses and sea creatures, Witches Market, La Paz

The Altiplano, near Tihuanacu

Train station outside the ruins

Model reconstruction of Tihuanacu

Most of the stones from the celestial pyramid were plundered by the Spanish to build local churches and residences, but archaeologists are reconstructing the pyramid with mud stone.

Temple gate, through which the sun rose on winter solstice

Recently discovered, the subterranean temple contains stone masks representing the deceased.

Main temple, Tihuanacu

Rock portal displaying the intricate geometric carvings of the Tihuanacu culture. The three tiers represent the three levels of existence: celestial, terrestrial, and subterranean represented by the condor, the jaguar, and the serpent.

Mt. Huayna Potosi, said to be the World's Most Easily Climbed 6000m Peak since base camp is only 1400m from summit.

Like Venezuela, Bolivia has instituted a social program importing Cuban eye doctors for cheap optometry clinics.

Boarding the ferry on Lake Titicaca

LAKE TITICACA

When you hear or read about Lake Titicaca, it sounds like an uneventful place. Delving further into history, however, reveals what an integral part it’s played in Andean culture. In Aymaran lore (descendants of the Tihuanacu culture) Isla del Sol, a large island anchored in the lake’s eastern waters, was the birthplace of the sun. According to Quechuan legend (descendants of the Inca), the firth Inca appeared on this isle, sent by the sun himself to lead the Andean peoples to conquest. When we finally arrived on Isla del Sol’s steep shores by way of a very slow ferry, we almost immediately realized the spiritual aura.

Even today there are no cars on the island. This gives it a very tranquil air. After arrival by ferry, there are two ways to get around—by boat or by bipedal motion. From north to south the island is crossed with centuries- (maybe even millennia-?) old trails. Some are still crude dirt paths, but the majority have for centuries been paved with stones, making a very distinct and comfortable walking track.

To get a head start on the daily tourist rush, we hired an additional ferry to transport us to the island’s north end, thereby avoiding a 2-hour hike. In this way we were able to see the main attractions, a large Incan-era labyrinthine structure and Titikharka (“Rock of the Puma,” for which Lake Titicaca is named) tourist-free. In the rare solitude my mind was able to ponder the cycle of civilization and society—the rise and fall of cultures, political systems, and religions no matter their fleeting grandeur, as well as the superficial values that society prescribes to itself. In these instances life is broken down to its most raw elements and the modern world fades into the background of existence.

Take away the tourism and life on Isla del Sol is subsistence farming. The rocky paths weave between fields of quinoa, habas, wheat, barley, maize, coca, and various other vegetables and herbs, cultivated on tiered steps as they have been for centuries. Life here is simple, as it should be. As the sun was leaving its place of birth, I climbed a small hill to overlook the fields, mud-brick homes, and well-worn trails leading to ancient stone structures—facing time head on and still standing proud. Clouds had cleared in the distance, revealing the majestic, snow-capped Cordillera Real standing well above the 4000 meter-high lake. Pachamama (Mother Earth) was revealing the white crib of the cradle of civilization. As I sat rocking in the quiet cradle watching the son set, nothing could have wiped the smile off my face.