Carnaval en Oruro

Fear and Loathing in Oruro.

Mike, JJ, Juan-Carlos and I caught an overnight bus from Sucre to Oruro on the Thursday night before Carnaval and arrived early Friday morning. The weekend was like a drunken, psychedelic dream. We stayed in the house of one of Juan-Carlos’ friends and within a few hours of arriving we procured a case of beer and we were on our way to the ‘thermal baths’ just outside of Oruro. Our host Jorge, who soon became ‘Don Giorgio’, was straight out of ‘ScarFace’. He lived in the States for a few years which gave him a Tony Montana style accent and a habit of calling everyone ‘bro’. He was pretty special. We ran into some minor issues with the immigration police on the way because neither Mike nor I had our passports with us. At one stage I was convinced we were going to be chucked in the meat-wagon and spend the rest of carnival in a cell. Luckily we managed to straighten things out and it was just as well that Jorge hadn’t started on the beers at that point. It could have been a lot more interesting. I’m fairly sure he was keen for a car-chase. The ‘thermal baths’ turned out to be a warm swimming pool and, as the only gringos, we drew some interesting looks. I’m fairly certain Mike was the first ginger person the locals had ever seen in real life. Certainly the first ginger person without his shirt on.

We got back to Oruro that evening and dived straight into more beers. The streets were a sea of festive people in various stages of inebriation. There was music blaring on every corner and no one as without a smile. It was the most electric, celebratory street party I’ve been lucky enough to experience. We danced like gringos and made friends with countless locals. It was incredible. The only downside was my phone getting pick-pocketed. Clearly not everyone was as drunk as I was.

Saturday is the when the real action begins and by the time we got to the centre the streets were alive with people who seemingly had no other reason to live than carnival. The tradition in Bolivia during carnival is water. So much water. And shaving-foam type stuff. Everywhere we turned someone was armed with water balloons or a massive water-pistol or a can of the ubiquitous ‘espuma’. The first time I got nailed in the face by a dose of foam was slightly annoying. The second time was kind of funny. The third time it was reason to fight back. We armed ourselves with cans of our own and proceeded to get absolutely annihilated by everyone. Again, Mike’s gingerness attracted a lot of attention and he definitely caught the brunt of it.

The carnival itself was mesmorising. A constant, endless wave of dancers of every shape and size imaginable. Their costumes were beautifully ornate, bordering on the psychedelic. Every dance troop that came past was greeted with wild cheers and ‘espuma’. Interspersed between the dancers were brass bands adding a chaotic, rhythmic atmosphere. Many of the people in the procession were getting stuck into beers and I saw more than one side-drummer alternating between playing a note and having a sip. It was beautifully surreal and unique. And so much fun.

Saturday night was the pinnacle of the partying. Full of rum and coca leaves we hit the streets again. By that stage the intoxication had reached insane levels and there were an alarming number of people lying face down in the street. The dancing continued although in a somewhat more ragged fashion and the beers kept flowing. We eventually made it home completely shattered, ears ringing and not quite certain of what had just happened.

By Sunday the spirit was relatively keen but the flesh was severely damaged. We got an afternoon bus back to Sucre reminiscing about one of the most insanely fun, messy and surreal weekends ever.


Check out the photos here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150146462696890.283621.514871889&l=bd6e197ddf

Sucre

‘La Cuidad Blanca de Las Americas’

Sucre is described as Bolivia’s most ‘sophisticated’ city. It’s an eclectic mixture of interesting people and vibrant culture. And dinosaurs.

The centre of the city is a UNESCO World Heritage site with some amazing architecture. All the buildings have to be whitewashed once a year which gives it a natural, calm energy. It has a familiar feel with a huge array of people crowding the streets and passing the time in the central plaza.

Sucre also happens to be very close to the largest collections of dinosaur footprints ever discovered. The upshot of this is the city is dotted with bizarre, fibre-glass dinosaur statues in the most unlikely of places. There’s one outside the cemetery which doubles up as a public phone. It’s bizarre.

Sucre is architecturally beautiful, culturally interesting and a good setting for a zombie-dinosaur movie.

Having planned the first part of my trip around coming to Sucre to learn Spanish, I was glad to find myself in such a friendly and interesting place. I immediately felt comfortable. The people are open and warm. The city is small and easy to navigate and there are a plethora of curios stalls and shops. The central market is a blur of vivid colours and odd smells. There are a couple of good bars and there’s even a club which is decent. The fact that they play the same crap songs on repeat every time you go somehow doesn’t detract from its charm.

Sucre has been a great place to base myself and learn some Spanish. Most of the travelers I’ve met are here for at least a few weeks studying at one of the many language schools. It’s easy to see why. Life is cheap and everyday is different. The school I’m studying at, Fox Language Institute, has been great. It’s a non-profit organisation which teaches Spanish, English and Quechua and I’ve been taking Spanish classes and teaching English on a voluntary basis. What they lack in organisational prowess they make up for in enthusiasm and improvisation. The afternoon I arrived I was given an English class to teach with little support and some optimistic advice. ‘Just be creative’ was all I was given, along with a second rate English teaching book. The first few lessons were fairly interesting. There were quite a few awkward silences and confused looks. I now have another teacher to help me out and since then the students have warmed to the strange, African gringo.

Learning Spanish has been a challenge. I’ve had about 2 weeks of lessons and I’m starting to feel more confident. My teacher, Maria, is friendly and very encouraging. But spending a large amount of time with other travelers means I haven’t been practicing enough. I’m fine asking questions in Spanish, it’s just that I have very little idea of what the answers mean. It’s a bizarre feeling not to be able to express myself properly. Sentences are slow to form in my head and even slower coming out of my mouth. I imagine I sound slightly drunk every time I speak to someone. But I definitely feel an improvement and I think with a bit more practice with local people I’ll move from the ‘non-existent’ level to the ‘basic’ level. My plan after Sucre is to find somewhere a bit more remote with fewer travelers so I can get some proper practice.

I’ve met some wonderful people and Sucre really feels like a temporary home. The family I’m staying with are warm and welcoming and the broken conversations we’ve had in Spanish have been good practice for me, if possibly somewhat boring for them. I’ll probably be here another couple weeks before I tackle the rest of Bolivia. I’ve only just scratched the surface of this fascinating, ragged country and I’m looking forward to see what more it has to offer. No doubt a huge amount.


Check out the photos here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150098699436890.276552.514871889&l=a2fe46ca5e