One day, O called me and said that if she didn’t escape fromSanta Cruz she would throw herself in front of the next passing micro (bus). Itried to convince her that that was a very bad idea because medical care hereis substandard and even if she did happen to die immediately it would be allover the news and not in the tasteful glossed-over American way but showing herbloodied dead body lying in the road while some women wail tearfully about whata good person she was and the theme music from Titanic swells in thebackground. When that failed (perhaps O hasn’t seen the Bolivian news yet) Iagreed to accompany her to El Jardin de las Delicias, some waterfalls about anhour out of town.
Of course, given her spontaneity we instead wound up inBuena Vista, about three hours out of town where we walked about aimlesslyunable to find the good coffee place, the parks office, or the hostel we hadchosen. We resigned ourselves to eat cheese empanadas and walk to the marsh tobirdwatch when after coming very close to being attacked by a large dog weaccidentally located the parks office. You see, we were on the border of AmboroNational Park. There we talked with a park guard who said he could have his sontake us on his motorcycle to an ecovillage, likely arriving before dark if ofcourse the river wasn’t too too flooded, where we could stay the night and gohiking the next day before having to return to the city and work. In a split second O had agreed and wesuddenly found ourselves hugging teenaged biker boys riding into the sunset.(I’m not really exaggerating.) The journey took about two hours in which we hadto dismount from our bikes and cross rivers about ten times. Since I expectedthat we would be at a waterfall all day I was wearing sandals; for once poorwardrobe planning worked out. We arrived at a pasture in the dark to findanother teenaged boy waiting to walk us the rest of the way (about 3kmaccording to a sign I spied).
The road was very very muddy and I lagged behind O andFranklin, as his name turned out to be, who both walk at superhuman speeds. Itsoon got too dark to even see them but luckily I had a flashlight. Because I amstill a neurotic Bolivian traveler, I always have a flashlight, toilet paper,crackers, a towel, and at least a liter of water. O did not have any of this;nor did she bring a change of undies. Soon we encountered a woman on a horsewho also accompanied us. At this point my sandal choice no longer seemed wiseas I had mud squishing between my toes and no traction. At one point I justtipped over and fell into a large mud puddle making some interesting noises onboth the way down and the way back up. Something akin toaaaaaaaaaaahshiiiitsqueeeeelch.
We finally arrived to camp and were met with dinner and tea.Dinner was the same thing I ate every morning in the campo: rice, meat, andpotatoes all mixed together in a bowl…except infinitely better because it alsohad tomato sauce. We learned a bit about the village and how it fits within anationwide network of community tourism locales, set the schedule for the nextday, washed our feet, and went to bed. Iwish I had written down some of the stuff our host and guide Dalmiro (D) saidbecause not only was he intelligent and enthusiastic about his work but he wasalso very funny in an understated Bolivian sort of way. I also wish I had takena photo of him because he reminded me of someone that I haven’t been able tofigure out and maybe you readers could have helped me out.
That night, despite being in the campo my phone rang (it wasthe guy who’s stalking me even though I told him I have a boyfriend whom Ibased loosely on the ex-BBT, A, and Wolverine) and I was so confused because mybed was facing the wrong way. Also I had a dream about giant insects andhowling monkeys…probably because there were bats in our cabin and the monkeysoutside were howling.
We woke up at about 6:30 to walk to the marsh to birdwatch.Neither O and I are really birdwatchers but we played along at beingsilent-sitter-ers with binoculars. D regaled us with a story about whyflamingos have red legs that are always in water, a story I was super proud tobe able to repeat to my friends later in understandable Spanish. As it turnsout all the animals went to a party. Here D expounded at length about severaldetails like the invitations, the seating configuration, and the dancesperformed with the only relevant details being that the flamingos had paintedtheir legs in red and white and black and were quite flamboyant dancers andthat the snakes got super drunk super quick. The drunken snakes determined thatthe flamingos were wearing snake skins, got super heated, and bit the flamingoswho in an effort to keep their fevers down and legs from swelling stuck them inLake Poopo in Oruro. (I don’t know if the flamingos in Florida went to adifferent party or just retired there.) On the way back to breakfast we stoppedat an almond tree where D told us that sometimes worms lived in the nuts andyou could eat them and they too tasted like almonds. I’m not sure why you wouldeat the worms instead of the nut but I did anyway much to O’s shock and horror. Besides grubs, breakfast was a delicious yucca and cheese fritter (sonso),oranges, and tea made of cedron.
Being fortified we then set off on the “interpretativetrail.” D told us all about the ajo tree which you can use to cure a snakebite, as a mosquito repellant, or an opposite sex repellant. We saw some tiger tracks (and heard the storyof the tiger caught by the Mennonites who I later visited in the zoo. Thetiger, not the Mennonites), some giant armadillo tracks, and severalinteresting trees about which I asked an appropriate amount of questions. Weran into a trail of biting ants and since we could not circumvent them becausea tree had fallen on the alternate path we rolled up our pant legs and ranthrough them. I got bitten about four times on each foot which immediatelybegan to swell but it was ok because we had arrived at the river. Again I wasfaced with the dilemma of “how appropriate is it to strip down to my undies?”We did it anyway and neared the edge. O stuck a toe in and reported that it wascold but knowing that I would never get in if I tested the water first I justjumped right in, much to O’s shock and horror. We swam for approximately tenminutes before our appendages went numb. When I came out I noticed D puttingaway his binoculars. I wonder if he was observing the lovely gringa faunabecause I was later told that Bolivian women, no matter how tight theirclothing or how short their skirts, never jump into rivers in their undies.
(This actually falls into the category of things I wish Ahad told me earlier. Things like: don’t wear that gold chain. Someone willsteal it off you on the micro; Don’t swim in only your undies. It is notculturally appropriate; You have marker on your face. )
We returned the way we came braving the ants and arriving athome base to a delicious meal of lentils and rice and beet salad. It annoyed mea little that O insisted on choking down her beets even though she hates themand I love them and would have gladly taken them off her hands. After packingup our things we arranged to return to town on horseback and by taxi whichturned out to be infinitely cheaper and significantly more uncomfortable. Itwas a little awkward because Franklin walked with us instead of riding and dueto this and the fact that I am not really a good rider our voyage took about aslong as if we had just walked instead. I am proud that I didn’t fall off myhorse dismounting when we arrived because not only had my ass gone numb but Ialso really really had to pee. After a quick potty break we arrived in BuenaVista (freezing cold due to two hours of inactivity and wet underwear) andcaught a bus to Santa Cruz. Technically we caught a bus to a town about an houroutside of Santa Cruz where we had to wait for a shared taxi.
There is no rhymeand reason to transportation in Bolivia so every time a shared taxi arrivedeveryone would make a mad dash for it, pushing and shoving and piling on top ofeach other. Unfortunately O and I share the non-pushy characteristics but in astrange chain of events we ran into an English speaking Bolivian couple who intheir skill at shoving and trampling saved two seats for us….and so we arrivedsafely to our respective houses.
On the journey I shared with O that I am trying to be morespontaneous and she admitted to wanting to be better at planning and thinkingthings through. We will either be a good team or we will destroy each other.I’ll keep you posted.
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