Villa Tunari and Cochabamba - A Weekend Excursion Part 1

After thoroughly enjoying the nightlife in Sucre my first weekend, I decided it was time to explore some other sights that Bolivia had to offer. A group of students from my school had already planned on visiting Cochabamba and the nearby jungle of Villa Tunari for a 3-day weekend so I attached myself to the group. Unfortunately my camera decided it was allergic to batteries and promptly drained itself after the first day, but since there were 7 of us I should have enough material to cannibalize for Part 2. Also I am having technical difficulties uploading videos, so for now just pretend that they exist.

There are two ways to get to Cochabamba from Sucre: a 30 minutes by plane or 10 hours by bus. Clearly on paper that would be a no-brainer, but the plane has two issues: it is 4x more expensive, and it isn't guaranteed to take off because the Sucre airport shuts down every time there is a storm. Even with the significant price differential I had been leaning towards the plane to avoid 10 hours of misery, but it poured all of Thursday and I didn't want to risk getting left behind.

There are three types of busses in Bolivia: Full-Cama, Semi-Cama, and Regular. Full-Cama has seats that recline all the way back to form essentially a bed, semi-cama reclines part of the way, and regular seats laugh at you when you think about reclining. To Cochabamba our only choices were semi or regular, and for 10 hours we splurged on the semi. Our itinerary was to leave at 8pm Friday night from Sucre and arrive in Cochabamba around 5am or so, where we would be picked up by our guide and driver around 8am and then drive the 4 hours to the jungle.

The bus station in Sucre is comparable to bus stations all over the world - a ticket area, a few shops, and some benches to sit down. But after spotting this gentleman I knew it would be a great trip:

Green Bay Packers... the world's favorite team

We boarded this bus at 8 and were quickly off. Cochamaba isn't actually that far away from Sucre, about 300km, but the road is a series of twists and turns with the occasional stretch of less than ideal pavement. With no ventilation and a seat in the back the first hour wasn't the cheeriest of stretches, but I blended a delicious cocktail of motion sickness and sleeping pills and arrived in Cochabamba in no time!

Sleeping pills can make anything tolerable

We got around 4:45am and grabbed a few empty benches for a few more hours of rest. That proved to be impossible as we were serenaded with constant shouts advertising other prospective bus destinations. No worries, our guide showed up a few hours early and after a quick breakfast we hop into our van towards the jungle. 4 hours later we pull off onto a dirt road and drive half a mile through some dense vegetation before arriving at our jungle lodge. We had been given 3 choices on the hotel and went with the budget option, but I thought the accommodation was more than adequate.

Who needs hot water when you are in the jungle?

Lunch was at a clean restaurant with a variety of meat and rice plates and one page of exotic jungle dishes. I was legitimately hungry so stuck with the safer chicken option, but one of the other guys went with the armadillo. One bite was enough for me. Also, despite being next to the jungle in one of the more remote countries in the world, we still got to enjoy the Barcelona-Madrid soccer game.

You can't stop the power of the Classico

After lunch we drove to the jungle for an afternoon of hiking. To get to the jungle trails we first had to cross a river, which was one of the coolest parts of the afternoon. Our guide ferried us across the river in two groups:

He wouldn't let me drive

After disembarking we set off on a 2 two hour jungle hike. Here's the thing about the jungle... you really don't see that much. Most of the animals are nocturnal and the ones that aren't are active in the morning and at night. If you go on an afternoon hike you almost never see anything except trees and bugs, with the occasional bird or monkey if you are lucky. That can be a little bit of a let-down-- I certainly expected to see a plethora of wildlife the first time I went to the jungle-- so what I do each time I go is try to look for something I have never seen before. The tram experience filled that quota, so everything after that was just a bonus.

One other item about the jungle... it is one of the least comfortable places on earth (at least for me). It is hot, humid, you are probably getting rained on, and there are a fuck-ton of mosquitoes. On the flip side, the sounds of the jungle are incomparable to anything else you will hear. There is just so much life and energy that you can viscerally feel it every second you are there.

Anyways, we hiked for about 45 minutes and stopped at a cave. This part of the jungle was famous for the Guacharos, a nocturnal bird that sounded absolutely terrifying. With the exception of the birds and another cave of bats we didn't see to much. For me, two hours hiking is just the right amount of time before I started to get irritated. This was the perfect hike to enjoy the jungle.

One more hour and there would have been no smiles

After we returned to the lodge we went for a quick swim in a nearby swimming hole. All of my hard work avoiding mosquito bites evaporated in about 5 seconds, but the refreshing bliss made it almost worth it. The rest of the day passed without too many other events until our return from dinner. We discovered that our triple had added a 4th guest:

Not exactly who I wanted to share the double bed with

It is a little hard to see how big this guy really was from the picture but if you wrap one of your hands around your fist you will have an idea. At last, some wildlife in the jungle!

Technology In Sucre

Bolivia is not a wealthy country, and in the more rural areas (about 50% of the population lives there according to the most recent census) you won't find the basic amenities of electricity and running water. This is not the case in Sucre.

Sucre is essentially a modern city. Aside from the 24/7 electricity and hot water, cable tv, high speed internet, and other toys that you are accustomed to can easily be obtained. Most houses have televisions, although personal computers are still a rarity. Instead, there are dozens of Internet cafes sprinkled throughout the city.

Frequently filled with Bolivian gamers

For 2bs an hour (a little less than 30 cents) you get access to dsl speed internet on computers that are from the mid 2000s. You won't be able to stream that episode of Pretty Little Liars you missed but it is plenty fast for email, facebook, and general browsing. And for those with WiFi capable devices there are a number of cafes with free, reliable WiFi.

Even WiFi in the park!

Everyone has cell phones. There are two types - standard monthly contracts like in the US or pre-paid credits that you can recharge at one of a hundred different small shops around the city. I have this amazing gem of a device, which is perfect for calls or texts and needs to be recharged once every 3 weeks:

This one is a winner

The cell phone was by far my largest purchase while in Sucre at $30 which included a 10b credit. Texts are 25b centavos (a little more than 3 cents each) and calls to other cell phones are 20b centavos/min; based on my current usage I'm looking at $4/month to keep my phone active. One interesting aspect of buying a cell phone is that they require you to present a passport/ID to activate the service. There might be the argument that this prevents drug-dealers from conducting clandestine communication, but I don't think I want to test who they are watching by sending a sketchy text message condemning the honorable President Morales.

You can feel the excitement as she activates my phone

If you are looking to see the latest American movies the movie theater is here to accommodate your needs. This one legitimately surprised me... the movie posters I had seen on other Latin American trips featured movies that were a few months old in the states, but not the case here.

 Don´t Jump!

The supermarket prohibits pictures so you will have to take my word on this one, but a quick walk around revealed everything you would expect in a Safeway or Shaws.

As a whole you can live an exceptionally modern existence in Sucre. There is only one thing that would make living here a deal-breaker: you are stuck watching the play-by-play on Sundays.

Getting to Know a City

The first time I walk around a city is usually a bit stressful. Traffic patterns are different, everyone else knows where they are going, and just a general unfamiliarity with an area isn't a comfortable feeling. Getting lost and then finding your way back can be an interesting way to get to know a city, but for me personally I don't enjoy the sensation of being lost. Also, if you are trying to get somewhere specific at a specific time (like the first day of class) the lost strategy doesn't work out so well.

When traveling with other people, I've noticed two situations that usually lead to arguments: getting lost, and being hungry. And if you are lost trying to find the restaurant... shiiiiit.

The first thing I do is locate the town square and determine how to get there from where I am staying. In Latin American countries there is almost always a central common location that everyone knows about. Common names include: Plaza Central, Plaza Mayor, or just the Plaza. There is usually some sort of park, fountain, or statue commemorating something important within the town and they serve as great meeting points if you are getting a group together. Because everyone knows the Plaza, just ask a local and you can always find your way back.

Plaza 25 de Mayo

Sucre's plaza is a little tricky because it is a perfect square; the first time I walked around I couldn't remember exactly where I had entered. Now I orient myself with this clock tower, which is also the road that leads to my school.

One of four sides

A trusty guide

I personally hate carrying a map when I walk around, it is obvious enough that I'm a tourist and I prefer not to further advertise that by staring at a map. If I'm carrying a backpack I'll leave one in there to use in case of emergencies, but most of the time I just take a look in my room beforehand and will write down a few instructions if I'm trying to get somewhere. Plus I'm incabable of folding maps properly and end up getting frustrated crumpling them.

Hopeless

If all else fails I make sure to have my address written down somewhere to give to a cab driver. Now even that doesn't always work if you live on an obscure street, which is exactly what happened to me the first night I spent on the square. My cab driver didn't know where to go and I had to hoof it home on foot. Fortunately it wasn't too late and I ended up finding my way back without stumbling into a sketchy neighborhood, but I made sure to figure out a place where all taxis would know so that didn't happen again.

Plazuelo Treveris, where every cab knows where to go. 

Back to School

My first week of classes is coming to an end.  It is amazing how different going to school is when you actually want to go. I've often wondered what causes the change in sentiment from utter revulsion to genuine interest. Ask any 10 year old if he'd rather be playing with his friends or attending school, and 99.9% of the time you'll get the friends answer. Even in college when I got to choose classes that seemed interesting, school seemed to lose the battle over running, Halo 3, and alcohol. But now I legitimately want to go.

My school is situated about a block from the main plaza. It's about a 20 minute hilly-walk from my house which I actually enjoy, since it forces me to get in a good 80 minutes of walking throughout the day.

The classrooms are centered around a large courtyard with a few tables and chairs to enjoy the sun.

There are 5 computers and wifi to access free internet so you pretty much have all of the amenities of a regular school.

You can choose between group classes (up to 4 people in the class) or one-on-one lessons, with each class lasting 4-hours. While a little more expensive, I chose the one-on-one classes to try to get back up to speed with Spanish as quickly as possible. A regular day consists of 2 hours of grammar, a 20 minute break, and another 2 hours of more social excercises like reading out loud or watching a movie in Spanish and then explaining what happened.

One last thought... The problem I have with Spanish classes in the US is that they don't actually teach you how to speak fluently. You learn the grammar and some vocabulary, but after a certain level the classes switch to become Spanish versions of their English counterparts (Spanish Literature, History of XXXX Spanish speaking country). There is not nearly enough emphasis on speaking and conversation, which is the whole fucking point of learning another language. I stopped taking Spanish after finishing the grammar classes because my only options were the History of El Salvador, examining the roles of the Mexican Diaspora in the American Southwest, or Chilean poetry. These classes could very well be interesting, but I don't want to be the next Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I want to be able to discuss Bolivian socialism with a student at the university, or flirt with the Colombian girl in the white dress. It is one thing to be able to read or write fluently, or even know what to say in your head... but it is quite another to have a back and forth conversation without thinking. And the only way to become comfortable doing so is to practice speaking. I don't imagine it would be that difficult or expensive to hire a handful of Spanish tutors to just talk with small groups of students for a few times or week, or even pay some of the many native-speaker students to do this as a work-study job.

Un Dia en el Campo

I'm still trying to catch up from all the bustlings of the first week, so this happened on Sunday. In Sucre many people still work on Saturdays for about half a day, but Sunday is the day when everyone relaxes and is a big family day for church, activities, etc. There was no church for this family today... instead we took a trip to the neighboring city of Ayatuka.

Ayatuka seemed like a sleepier version of Sucre -- narrow one way streets, some cobblestone, and a small square with a few food vendors. After parking we walked for a few minutes and knocked on a non-descript door. Upon entering an entirely different world appeared, filled with grass soccer fields, swimming pools, and even a few water slides. Apparently many of the Sucrean middle-class families spend their weekends in such places: I think a good description of this one would be the every-man's country club.

Before jumping into the pool we worked up a sweat on the soccer fields. This one was roughly 1/4 the size of a full field, which was perfect for someone still getting used to the altitude adjustment. It may not look amazing, but I was very impressed with the field: a mostly-green lawn and three large posts to form a sturdy goal. I remember playing in a few parks when I was younger in Guatemala, Costa Rica, and Ecuador and nothing matched the condition of this field - usually it is dirt or patchy, dead grass. We began our game with me, Monica (my host mom), and Fabiana (my host sister) on one side vs Juan Pablo (host dad) and Coco (host brother) on the other. At first we were weaving our way through about 15 young children playing various versions of their own games, but soon the different kids started joining sides and we had a full fledged game. I managed to restrain my competitive Hyde and play like how someone is supposed to play with children less than half their age.

After lunch we moved to the pool with the water slides. Unfortunately the slides are not working today -- I've always enjoyed a good waterslide -- but the pool is chillingly refreshing. The family's twin cousins took turns holding onto my shoulders as I towed them around the pool, and considering my impecable swimming skills I was very grateful that neither weighed more than 40lbs. I discovered the batteries to the GoPro were dead right after jumping into the pool, so you'll have to take my word for it that it was quite an adventure.

 

La Paz to Sucre

After reading the first post and a draft of this one, I realized that this sounded way too much like a journal entry. From now on I'll try to keep this to things I think might actually be interesting/informative instead of a minute by minute account of my day. It`s probably going to take me a few more iterations to get the hang of it, so bear with me. If you really want the full deal send me an email and I'd be happy to send you the PG-13 version of my journal. 

To enter Bolivia all foreigners must procure a visa, which costs $145 and is good for 5 years. I could have taken the responsible action and dealt with this back home, but when I discovered that the visa could be purchased on arrival I elected not to deal with the consulate in SF. Buying the visa was easy enough, I filled out one long sheet of paper with standard questions and handed over the cash. This part was a bit unusual -- the officer closely examined each bill I provided and deemed 3 of them faulty due to miniscule rips. I could understand if I handed over two pieces of a $20, but these imperfections were so negligible that I doubt that half of the bills currently in your wallet would pass. Fortunately I had enough that passed and was on my way. 

I admittedly did not put much research into the trip. I knew the directors of my Spanish school from a previous connection and read enough about Sucre to know that I wanted to come here. Since the school provides the host family and has plenty of information resources there, that was the extend of my research. El Alto airport in La Paz is something I probably should have looked into.

El Alto was actually quite pleasant - free high speed wifi (Miami made you pay) with incredibly clean bathrooms and fully manned ticket counters. The problem is that it sits 13,300 feet above sea level (about 2.5x higher than Denver). I have never dealt with altitude well, especially since flying causes such an abrupt change compared to driving. But usually I don't start to feel sick until nighttime. About 90 minutes after landing I was lying in a bathroom, projecting the contents of the bottle of water I had so responsibly attempted to rehydrate myself with. I'm not sure if knowing quite how high El Alto was would have helped, but it would have been nice to not have been blindsided by dehabilitating sickness immediately upon entering the country.

Fortunately the flight to Sucre was only an hour. While the immediate euphoria of purging my stomach had started to wear off, I did have this guy to keep me company:

Air Sickness... or Mushrooms?

Take-off actually helped me by injecting a nice boost of adrenaline — despite having flown hundreds of times taking off still makes me nervous. Other fears that I have not been able to shake since childhood: bathrooms with the shower curtain fully closed (I still always check behind), being alone in a dark house, and roosters.

Terrifying

I had arranged for my host family to pick me up at the airport, but I was a little worried after I had not

received any confirmation from the school director when I informed him of my updated itinerary.  Those fears proved to be true as none of the smiling Bolivians outside the airport were holding a sign for Mr. Hale. The payphone did not feel like cooperating and I was beginning to lose hope, when a 5'0'' Boliviana savior came to my rescue. A quick phone call on her cell had me in a taxi on my way.  I don't know if I'll ever see her again, but if I do the first 10 beers are on me.  

The house is a beautiful three-story building with a large terrace outside the third floor. I am situated on the third floor with a bathroom and one other bedroom that is vacant but could potentially house another student. I'll have more about the family later when I can provide additional pictures, but first impressions are that I could not have landed a better 6-week residence.

Getting There Is Half The Adventure

Clearly whoever came up with this overused phrase had a miserable sense of adventure. I suppose there are times when it does apply - paddling a dugout canoe to a hut in the Amazon comes to mind (stumbling to the next bar on a pub crawl certainly does as well). But when I think of the majority of the times that I have travelled, the "getting there" part is just a bunch of waiting, sitting, and more waiting. Of course, all bets would be off if the Brazilian in 20B had decided to move back a row...

Anyways, this rambling preamble (actually this whole blog post is rambling) was made possible by the kind folks at American Airlines. My flight path was to be as follows: SFO >> Miami >> La Paz >> Cochabamba >> Sucre. The layover in Miami was to be 90 minutes.

Despite completing an agreement in 2011 to purchase 460 new airplanes (according to the smiling picture of CEO Thomas W. Horton, page 8 on the current edition of American Way), my plane apparently didn't get the memo and was clearly constructed around the same time Kennedy was making some tough decisions about Cuba. Unsurprisingly, we incurred a 2.5 hour delay due to a faulty auto-pilot system. I am not a pilot, have never flown a plane, and am sure that a faulty auto-pilot system means there is something actually wrong with the plane, but at first glance the concept that we were unable to take off because a computer couldn't do the job of the pilot for him is ridiculous. Fortunately American Airlines truly had the safety of its passengers in mind when they delayed take-off another 30 minutes because one of the emergency exit lights would not turn on.

In such situations it is incredibly important not to take your anger and frustration out on the gate and flight attendants. There is nothing they can do to make the situation better and they certainly are not happy that a)they themselves are delayed, and b)they now have to deal with 200 people bitching at them for something they are not at fault for and have no control over. And if there was something they could do, do you really think they would be willing to help the person that just screamed at them? I understand that extensive delays can be significantly disruptive if you are operating under a limited timeframe, whether that be vacation, business, etc., but reaming the poor gate attendant isn't helping anyone. Don't let those smiling Southwest commercials fool you, at best these people get a quiet thank you from maybe 5% of departing passengers, and I just witnessed what happens when things go wrong.

At first, there was an ominous announcement that there might be a problem with the plane's auto-pilot system. 10 minutes later, the attendant cautiously stated that there was indeed a problem, and the technicians did not know how long it would take to fix. Another 20 minutes, and still no timeframe with the new caveat that it might not be fixed until tomorrow. This prompted a frantic dash to the gate attendant for flight rebookings, reminiscent of the M-A food line at the beginning of lunch. Here is where I can legitimately fault how the situation was handled: there were 2 workers, with an average rebooking time of at least 15 minutes per party. With at least 75 separate groups... you do the math. Fortunately I had a feeling that something was legitimately wrong and had lined up before the last announcement, and it still took over an hour for me to move about 20 feet.

While waiting in line I heard more tears than the last 10 minutes of the Notebook. There is something about traveling — the confinement, the boredom, the lack of control, etc. — that makes people revert to toddlers. Or maybe we just never lose the characteristic of crying when we don't get what they want.

Miami is American Airlines' hub into South America, so many of the people were in the same situation I was in: if this flight is cancelled we miss our connection and are stuck for at least a day. I was certainly not happy with the situation, but I had planned to start classes on Monday for this specific precaution and pushing my trip back a day wasn't the worst thing in the world. Most of the despair was communicated in Spanish (which I happily could understand) and I did meet a woman from Sucre who wrote down a few places for me to check out, which made up for the pack of Brazilians who were under the strong impression that lines were optional.

After finally arriving at the desk to reschedule my flight, they announced the auto-pilot was about to be fixed and we should be on our way soon. A few minutes later the auto-pilot was indeed fixed... but one of the lights on an emergency exit was not functioning. I am glad our safety is not taken lightly.

The plane was only about 3/4 full, so after noticing my compatriot was a portly Russian I snagged an aisle seat with no one in the middle. In times like these it's the little victories that count. A much bigger victory was the incredibly pleasant flight attendant who handed me a Jack and coke free of charge. The captain apologized for the delay and claimed they were doing everything they could to make up for the delay, announcing that at the current speed the flight would be about half an hour less than the forecasted flight time. This is of course complete bullshit, since if you ever compare the announced flight time to what your ticket says it is always about 30 minutes shorter — under-promise and over-deliver. But the gesture of sympathy was nevertheless appreciated.

After landing and a quick disembarkation, my fears proved to be correct and the flight to La Paz had indeed departed. The next flight to La Paz was leaving the next night, and I was directed to the rebooking desk for a new ticket. The Ritz must have been full since they handed me a voucher for the Best Western, along with $43 worth of meal money redeemable at any airport restaurant ($12 for each meal and a $7 snack). Fortunately there was a free shuttle to ferry me the 10 minutes down a street of perpetual strip malls, and Subway was open late for a 1am dinner.

I had never been to Miami and under different circumstances a one night paid stay could have been fun. But with my bag stuck in the bowels of an airplane, dressed in jeans and a Tufts XC shirt didn't exactly guarantee me a place in the VIP section nor was it conducive to wandering the beaches the next day. Instead I chose the comfort of the air conditioning in the hotel and a nearby movie theater (all to myself!), and arrived at the airport in time to watch the USA defeat Jamaica 2-0. One quick note about Miami (at least the 2 miles of strip mall that I experienced): Spanish is everywhere. For every 10 conversations that I heard 9 of them were in Spanish - same goes for billboards, food advertisements, and movie posters. It was fun to walk around and just watch and listen.

The interesting (scary?) fact is that this is the part of the trip that I was least worried about... the Sucre airport apparently closes frequently due to inclement weather, and the forecast for the weekend calls for scattered T-storms. But I'll deal with that when I get there. For now I will enjoy the free WiFi* and complimentary exit row.
*The WiFi stopped working 100 miles outside the US, so that was a great 5 minutes. We'll pretend this actually posted when I tried to post it instead of the La Paz airport.

Throughout this entire ordeal I was treated with the utmost kindness from all of the American Airlines employees. It is not their fault that I was stuck on a plane that had passed its expiration date, but the executive team that believed it had a mandate to continue to provide a shitty product for the past two decades. Thankfully airlines like JetBlue and Virgin America have forced the old guard to change (much like foreign cars and the US auto industry), and if Thomas E. Horton is to be believed American should see some improvements soon. But for the time being, if you have the option I would strongly recommend looking elsewhere.

One final note - this initial post will certainly be an anomaly for both length and monotonous detail... I've had substantial free time throughout this extended delay and what better way to spend it then sharing it with the world?