Peruvian Cuisine

Recipes, descriptions and pictures for you to cook at home. All will be revealed:

Our last meal in Cusco turned out to be our best! If you find yourself in Cusco, you MUST visit El Tronquito, on Choquechaca, nr. 152. This restaurant is fantastic and very evocative and colonial, the husband and wife team chatty, endearing and welcoming, and the food: magnifico!
Try these yourselves:
Sopa Criolla:
Chicken stock with a little cream, onions, garlic and chopped herbs. Small pieces of fried mince and plenty of spaghetti pieces. Poached eggs in the centre topped with a slice of toast and a roasted chilli. Great combinations, melding into a rich flavour.
Lomo Saltado:
This Peruvian classic is a take on sweet and sour, but offers so much more! Fry off your thin strips of fine quality steak, together with red onions and chopped spring onions, adding a sauce of tomato, soy and perhaps pineapple to reduce the whole dish into a rich and thick consistency. At this stage all Peruvians add plenty of chips into the mix, but quite frankly, if I were you, I’d just miss out this part of the recipe. Serve with plenty of rice and garnishes of garlic sauce and picante sauce.

Machu Picchu Vistas!

Jon Climbs Huaynapicchu

Jon found his climb to Huaynapicchu in a select group of pre-registered trekkers very fulfilling and it allowed for an alternative view of Machu Picchu; Simon remained at base-camp to research the History of Bingham’s discovery… A further six-hundred metre hike to the peak made great way for a photo opportunity as it was almost like a birds-eye view. We had to be extremely careful of our footing as one slip and game over! We had been told that one guy had fallen to his death whilst climbing the peak, but we are still puzzled as to how no more people have had accidents because it seems very hazardous. The most thrilling part, besides the marvellous vista, was the narrow crevasse we had to squeeze through and up towards the peak. There were ungenerously sized, slippery stone steps that were there to assist us a little, and on reaching the upper side of the cave, there were even better views. Scary to see though, were two Chinese guys going carelessly off-route, down some tiny stone steps that were the only things between the side of the mountain and a sharp, roughly half-mile, drop!

We were at the height that the magnificent Andean condors fly at, with a gentle breeze whispering past us, the view beneath was dizzying, but what was really euphoric was the feeling of reaching the top, and in Machu Picchu too!

Machu Picchu

Hearing the alarm on Jon’s mobile phone go off at four o’ clock in the morning was not very appreciated! Through our hazy snooze it took a short while of dismissing the alarm in favour of sleep to realise that the alarm was to get us up for one of the first seats on the bus to one of the seven new wonders of the world, Machu Picchu. We knew exactly where everything was, so we were able to crawl out of bed to find our things through bleary eyes, and head off down the road to the bus station. Loud precipitation and darkness tempted us to stay put for a while, but this was our once in a lifetime.
We thought we had been fairly cunning in getting to the bus stop over an hour in advance of departure, but as we proceeded around the corner, it turned out that a large queue of people had the same idea. As it was still raining we couldn’t cover under the shelter quick enough and we saw an indent in the alley where the queue appeared to have finished. Relief! Simon then got a tap on the shoulder and a friendly face said to us, “The queue goes on up there.” At this moment the length of the queue magically doubled and we shuffled our way to the back.
The bus driver called us on as the very first light of dawn began to show itself in a gorgeous sapphire blue light above the almost-vertical, pitch-dark mountains that hides the town of Aguas Calientes from the outside world.
As we drove out of town, the large river on our left was splashing violently at height, and huge, broken waves were banging down on the rocks beneath due to the large amount of rain feed. For those of you extremists, a grade five white water rapid is nothing in comparison! We continued our zigzag up the merciless face of the forested mountain, peering out between the tree cover whenever possible to catch a view, but we saw only a baby-blue sheet of cloud that was succeeding in instantly eliminating visibility past ten centimetres. We were desperately hoping that we’d be able to see the lost Incan city of Machu Picchu, the surrounding mountains and the deep valleys but at this moment we weren’t too convinced.
After hurrying off the bus, we saw another massive queue and our hearts sank. The secret, when visiting Machu Picchu, is to be one of the first people there, not only for better views and photos without tourists in their bright red, blue, pink, yellow, or whatever colour ponchos, but more importantly to have access to Waynapicchu. The name ‘Waynapicchu’ means ‘young mountain’ in the Quechua language, which is spoken widely throughout the Andes, generally between Quito, Ecuador, all the way down to the Rio Bio Bio area, Chile. Out of the huge numbers of curious tourists that visit this archaeological site every day, only four hundred of them are admitted to climb Waynapicchu for the rarer view of the ancient city. More on this part later!
But for the moment, we are at the stage where we have just arrived through the entrance post and are walking towards the lost city. As we reached the brow of the hill and turned the corner, we where stunned by a hypnotic view of Waynapicchu wrapped in whitey blue clouds with a perfect space, like a viewfinder, which revealed to us an extensive mass of the most beautiful ruins on earth. There were a mixture of different types of Incan construction techniques and so many different shades of greens from trees, bushes and grasses that was particularly overwhelming. A sudden spiritual feeling overwhelmed us as we imagined this place full of Incan’s building their city and going about their daily living there. How on earth did we Europeans come to discover this ancient site that’s hidden so well in the mountains? We were due to meet our guide at quarter-to-eight, which gave us just under two hours to explore freely. For some unknown reason, we chose uphill to start and were hiking up another S-shaped trail that led us to some amazing terraces, which the Incans used to cultivate vegetables. In fact, the whole site is covered in terraces where, for example, different species of potatoes grew depending on the altitude of the particular terrace. One other vegetable that they used to grow was the famous purple maize vegetable, which is called ‘Chicha’ here. One fantastic Peruvian beverage, our favourite in fact, is called Chicha Morada and in order to make it, one must boil the chica vegetable and keep back the juice. For enhanced flavour, a squeeze of lemon and some spoonfuls of sugar never hurt anybody, and once left to cool, it’s delicious. The closest taste we can get to describe it right now is undiluted Ribena, though perhaps not quite as strong.
Getting back to the higher terraces where we decided to stop for our sneaky breakfast of cheese and pate sandwiches, we encountered some lovely llamas grazing on the luscious, emerald-green grass. We had seen postcards of llamas in Machu Picchu the day before and we came to the conclusion that the llama had been superimposed onto it. How wrong we turned out to be?!





We continued upwards for a bit to the Machu Picchu mountain itself, which as a matter of fact means ‘old mountain’ in Quechua, but we turned back as time got tight for our guided tour arrangements. We finally met up with our guide, Eddie, who was brilliant and very informative! Perhaps, though, the sites around Machu Picchu are better told in pictures.





You'll have to wait for the next blog entries to see the rest!

A Message from Alfonso the Alpaca

Now listen folks, it's come to my attention that you guys aren't leaving enough comments on these two guys' fantastic blog. Naughty, naughty! Please leave more messages for them or they will have me for dinner! They already had one of my other alpaca friends and my little guinea pig buddy that I used hang around with. They said they tasted really good and that they won't resist any temptation to gobble me up and use my wool for sweaters!

COME ON! THIS IS A CRY FOR HELP!

SAAAAAAAAVE.....MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Cusco: San Blas Street Party

It all began with a swift whoosh and a large bang! More to follow! These deafening sounds were amplified by the fact that we were right beside the source! Why were there fireworks being set off right beneath our roof terrace? And why do they choose to explode what seems just inches above our heads? Anyway, great fun!
Today is the festival of Compadres, and is just one of the excuses for revelry in the run up to Carnival proper. The band initiated their session with loud keyboards, peculiar percussion, guitars, chimes, and a (very screechy) singer. Not that any of us could do any better! Suddenly the plaza beneath in our temporary San Blas station came to life and a mixture of locals and gringos started to dance with gusto! For a few moments it seemed compulsory to be holding a beer in the left hand whilst your dance partner's hand in the right. A reversal in road domination took place instantly as taxis were beeping and begging to pass, such a change from the usual life-or-death traffic dodging that all of us pedestrians have to do to survive the merciless here!
Everybody was happy, then they were merry. There were two particular guys, one short and middle-aged with a moustache and the other a fair bit taller and in his twenties, who were in dispute over something or other. As the younger man was being held back by two large buddies, the other was taunting him by gesturing and beating the ground; like King Kong or a sumo wrestler. When he became bored of teasing he began to approach the lad, but luckily the motherly figure of their group held him back. She was just as drunk really and when she wasn't breaking up the fight, she was sitting on the plastic stool outside their beer market, with a large grin on her face and her head tilted forwards, letting her long, long Pigtails (they would give Rapunzel a run for her money!) run to the ground.
The street stalls were selling tempting goodies such as fatty kebab skewers with a semi-boiled potato on the end, hamburgers, and rice pudding! Jon so badly wanted to try rice pudding street style, but resisted any urge due to what happened after last time he ate one that seemed a little iffy. You will, of course, know from the very first blog we wrote. Simon had a meaty kebab skewer but admitted that the potato was actually the best part.
As well as a great time at the party, we enjoyed the modest glows of dim streetlights that crawled all the way up into the mountains surrounding Cuzco as well as the illumination of just one of the curches in the Plaza de Armas.

Cusco: Day 2, Jon Visits Incan Sites

Well, what a day! From the moment we arrived in Cuzco, Jon was inspired by the surrounding shanty houses that cling to the high Andes that surround the city. They slightly resemble the ones he got to know during his time in Brazil. After a light breakfast of the world's best chocolate milkshake (quality and quantity!) he quickly flicked through the Lonely Planet in order to find his direction of ascent towards the statue of Christ that overlooks Cuzco, like in Rio de Janeiro. How great would it be to make a compariason?
Jon went in search of Calle Resbalosa, the narrow street which is recommended to walk up in order to access Cuzco's Cristo. Well, although he didn't find the street, he wandered a little lost in the general direction and soon found himself marching up some very steep stone steps, that seemed to be swallowed up by the maze of shanty brick huts. He continued cautiously and was relieved to see a fellow backpacker climbing the same route. Jon asked him if he was going the right way to get to his destination and the helpful man, who was also heading for the same terminus, confirmed the uncertainty and decided to join him. This hiker introduced himself as Ivan and was from Uruguay. It was great to be able to converse with him in detail about Colonial del Sacramento, the one place that we visited in Uruguay. He only knew a few phrases in English, so Jon's poor head was pounding after a solid few hours speaking virtually only Spanish!
As they continued up some steps, an old, local inhabitant directed them across a narrow and very slippery, muddy path to a pack of wild-looking dogs. They were happy going about their own business and were, fortunately, not the over-territorial type. Further on though, a fraction of the way up another even steeper stairway, a loud and fierce mutt began barging his head off and making slight snorting sounds, which Jon supposed were meant to be growls. As he hadn't had his rabies shots, Jon wasn't taking any chances and slowly retreated to the path to try the next set of steps along, praying that there would be no other ferocious beast lying in wait of trespassers. Ivan saw sense and followed, also hiding every ounce of fear.
There was another dog lying in wait, but it was just a small, yippy kind; more annoying than scary. It was barking madly, but was only scampering around them with no real intent of clamping its jaws into their ankles.
When Jon and Ivan reached the peak, a much deserved break was needed as the high altitude air is not so rich in oxygen like they are accustomed to. Acclimatisation is definitely a long process! The statue of Christ is very impressive but is much ssmaller than the one in Rio. It was brilliant white, but a fence had been put round it unfortunately, perhaps so that no dim pranksters graffiti it or something. At night the statue glows brightly due to the intense lights that are carefully tilted all around it. Whilst at the feet of the Cristo, an amazing view of the whole city of Cuzco beneath required some photographic attention. It was incredible to observe the terracotta rooftops and even a plane taking off!
Nearby, there was the ancient historical Inca site called Saqsaywamán where grass attempts to cover the tops of the large, grey Inca blocks that hold themselves up through perfect tesselation, as opposed to our conventional cement methods. Plus these bricks are so heavy that I don't doubt for a second that it required several people to lift each of them. It was a real step back in time and was an escape from the feel of the dominant (but beautiful) architecture of the Spanish conquistadores that overide the majority of the city. The Spanish, in fact, took bricks from this site and used them in part of their newer constructions in the centre, although they aren't visible everywhere rather in just a few narrow alleys and small streets.
Jon had found great amusement in watching a young Peruvian boy herding three llamas. For his short, matchstick legs, his ballistic shouting and sprinting methods were probably the most effective possible and they indeed seemed to work.
On the descent of return, Ivan and Jon were fortunate enough to stumble on a midday fiesta that signified the start of a carnaval. People in traditional dress were merrily downing beers whilst one huge collection of sizzled, open-mouthed cuys (ginuea pigs) were waiting to be chomped on. Jon's one last night was enough for him though!
As Jon continued to meet Simon for lunch and find out how his day was, he realised that he was walking down the street that he was trying to find earlier. 'Calle Resbalosa' translates to 'Slippery Street' and he found it obvious why!

Cusco: Day 2, Simon Visits the Colonial Sites

Simon set out on a massive undertaking: to explore all the significant churches of central Cusco before lunch! And providing a pictorial record of this marathon turned out to be rather tricky, as photography is entirely prohibited in all these locations. It's amazing what you can achieve, though, by hiding behind a pillar with your Leica stashed under your raincoat. And the dimly-lit interiors throw in just one extra hurdle.
Anyways, seeing as we are living uphill in the fantastic, village-like quarter of San Blas, it was to the small, modest (yet in many ways, retrospectively, the most impressive of all the sites with its devotional atmosphere) church of the same name that Simon turned to first.

The carved, wooden pulpit was astonishing.

The reredos behind the High Altar had been carefully restored and narrates an entire devotional approach to parochial worship.

The Crucifixion in a small side chapel was especially striking. San Blas radiates a very special atmosphere, and of course, it's not a museum, but the living centre of life around the square.

It was then downhill to the Archbishop's Palace, built on a firm foundation of massive Inca stones, including the famous twelve-sided stone, pointed out to all passer-by with enthusiasm (and an outstretched hand...) by all the street children. Here is to be found a collection of sacred art from the Cusco School. Well worth a visit! It was then on to visit the Sagrada Familia, Cathedral and Triunfo. Over an hour of golden retables, silver altars and cedar wood carving. Splendid! The cathedral coro also houses two recently restored seventeenth-century organs, the whole plan being modelled on Toledo!

The church of Santa Clara is still to this day the working convent church of the enclosed order of Clarist nuns. They view this dark and mysterious interior from behind a series of dense, wooden grilles.

Here is La Compania; the Jesuits get everywhere, don't they? This East end is almost identical to the version in Quito which Simon visited almost four years ago. Note the golden grilles to the right which shield the musicians from view. Perhaps the singing floated downwards, mysteriously as if directly from heaven.
Then there was time to pop in to the Convent of Saint Catherine of Siena, where there are thirteen contemplatie Domenican nuns in residence. During the Inca period the site was the location of the Aqllawasi, where beautiful maidens of noble lineage would perform sacred duties and sun worship, never leaving and forever remaining virgins. Some time after 1605, the 25 nuns who had arrived in Cusco from Arequipa selected this site for its significant associations. Today Simon met just two of these elusive women.

Well, the mission wasn't entirely successful: lunch at Gustavo's had to intervene, and magically, Jon and Simon's respective missions were united during the afternoon: a huge buidling which unites both Inca and Spanish architecture. Qorikancha was the high temple of Incan worship to the celestial deities of sun, moon, stars, rainbows and lightening. The conquistadores turned this building into the monastery of Santo Domingo. Can you tell the Incan stones apart from the renaissance Spanish designs? In the next blog you can see how Jon manages to fit through the sacred Incan archway.

Cusco: Day 1

Jon in a beautiful narrow street, just after we discovered that the apparent whitewashed walls are partially compiled with straw! Our night bus from Puno had arrived at 5.00am, and with bleary eyes and in trepidation, we swiftly broke Travellers' Rule Number 2: never accept the offer of accomodation from strangers at bus stations... Well, the taxi whisked us through the city and into roads and lanes which became narrower and narrower. The cobbled streets ascended and the atmosphere became more village-like and just like a step back in time. We had arrived!


Peruvian lady dragging her poor alpaca around the winding streets of Cuzco! Jon spent a while pretending he was making a holiday video in order to avoid being charged by this woman for taking the photo! But the whole atmosphere of this place quickly confirmed that it was EXACTLY what we had been searching for on our quest so far through Spanish-speaking Latin America. Most people here speak Quechua as well!
We were hungry, it was lunchtime, and a tiny and narrow cobbled lane leading off the Plaza de Armas beckoned. It was then that we met Gustavo. A fantastic guy and general factotum. He both fed us mind-blowingly great value food in his cosy little restaurant, shouting 'mama!' through the hatch at his chef at regular intervals, and then leading us over the square to his office to aid us in our forthcoming expedition to discover a certain 'lost' city.


Cuy! The local speciality that most of us think of as a pet! Jon chomped his way through most of this little fellow, baked and with a strong, salty flavour. Simon munched on an alpaca steak instead!


Plaza de Armas shining by night!

Half-Way Day!

OK! So according to our calculations we have been travelling for fifty days now, which means that we are exactly half-way through! It seems like not even a fortnight ago when we were venturing off on the train towards London, not knowing quite what South America was going to be like, certainly in terms of safety levels.
Well, you've been following! The only "danger" we have experienced is being held at pen-point in the dodgy Retiro bus station! Besides the city-hopping, we have seen the incredible Iguacu Falls from both Brazil and Argentina, we have trekked and camped around marvellous Monte Fitzroy in Argentinean Patagonia and the terrific Torres del Paine on the Chilean side! More recently we stumbled upon quaint, wild west Tupiza where we explored vast Andean desert on horseback before driving through the wilderness of Bolivia, exploring flamboyant lagoons and steamy springs, as well as the awe-inspiring Salar de Uyuni! Currently in Titicaca's tranquil lakeside village of Copacabana, we are waiting to board the bus and cross the frontier into Peru where our first stop is in the oldest, continuously inhabited city of South America: The ancient, Incan city of Cuzco! We'll see you there!

Lake Titicaca and Copacabana

We left La Paz in the early morning as the sun broke through the mist and our bus steadily climbed to the heights of El Alto and the jigsaw-like assembly of shanty dwellings densely covering the hillsides, although Illamani was still shrouded in the clouds. Within a short while we had reached Huarina and could see the sapphire blue of Lake Titicaca stretching before us, with the drive and the countryside even being reminiscent of the Sorrento area. This idea was strongly reinforced as we crossed a narrow section of the lake by motor boat between two picturesque towns and looked out over the clear waters.
Copacabana lies between two hills, and predates its namesake in Rio de Janeiro and the Barry Manilow song. The town is the setting for many fiestas and carnivals, many with a strongly religious feel as the cathedral is the setting for the shrine of the Virgen de la Candelaria de Copacabana. Simon even managed to attend an evening mass at the shrine, where the priest blessed a processional rosary which the inquisitive pair had bargained for at the gift stalls lining the cathedral square. Earlier in the day we were sheltering from the rain in a café specializing in chocolate ice cream: when it arrived, we were both stunned! Jon had a cold around him and was freezing enough with the chilling Andean temperatures, but he certainly might give it a go next time!

As we prepared to leave Copacabana and Bolivia, three extraordinary things happened. Firstly, as we walked around the Plaza Major of Copa, we heard the rhythmic booming of a massive bass drum and the gentle wafting of a corpus of reed flutes playing an hypnotic and catchy ostinato. Throngs of Aymara women swarmed around the townhall, all in their traditional dress of pleated skirts, Norah Batty style leggings and shoes, manta and brightly coloured back wrap, all topped off with a rakish Bowler hat. There were far fewer men,and in respect of the ladies´ garments, they were somehow attired in the opposite manner to the animal or bird kingdom! But the music was solely the domain of the men... What kind of festival was this, and should we really be here? Suddenly the enthusicastic throwing of fragrant, red and orange flower petals, and the sudden appearance of a bashful, middle aged couple holding hands and being showered by the petals gives the game away. It´s a wedding, Aymara style!
The second happening suddenly jolted us back to our wonderful time in Bangladesh. Do you remeber the day we walked up Himachari beach as the storm clouds gathered, and we helped the local fishermen haul their boat up out of the water and onto the sandy foreshore? Well of course the special type of sailing craft here on Lake Titicaca is the reed boat, and as the rain commenced (it´s the rainy season here right now...) some local guys shouted at us to lend a hand in a vast tug of war to haul a large reed boat out of the lake. Magical times!
And finally, hunger gnawed at us, so it was time to try the local speciality of fried fillet of lake trout. This is, quite frankly, the best taste sensation we´ve experienced in the whole of Bolivia. Very flavoursome and moreish!

The Hottest Chillies in Bolivia!

Here at the Star of India, on Calle Cochabamba just off Sagárnaga, they make the world’s hottest (and most dangerous) Vindaloo. We thought we’d give it a try, and as you can see from the shot, it’s really just a mush of hideously red-hot chillies. Such was the lethal power of this dish, that just after one small probing, experimental mouthful, Jon was unable to focus. Other star turns on the table were a Chicken Korma (nutty, mild and surprisingly robust against the fiery onslaught) and a Llama Tikka Massala. We kid you not!
Anyways, the upshot was that the prize for finishing this hellish Vindaloo was a t-shirt. And here it is… Are the smiles at all forced?

La Paz

We have a great night’s sleep on the bus, despite certain inconveniences. Firstly, as the semi-cama luxury (well, by Bolivian standars, at least…) dreamliner pulls out of Sucre, it becomes obvious that the aircon has not been turned on, and that vents passing along each window seat are pumping out enough hot air to warm up a Helsinki sauna. We bake, and our emergency ration of chocolate melts. Layers of clothes are removed. Some time later, Jon discovers that rather than being sealed units, the windows are, in fact, designed to be slid open. We slide, and in the face of numerous complaints from fellow passengers, we battle to keep the ventilation flowing. It flows. An enormous bottle of peach juice is placed between us, and sleep commences. We are, at this stage, blissfully unaware of our route which takes us right into the high Andes. Some hours later, we awake in a state of shivering only previously encountered when we camped at Poincenot in Patagonia. Quickly, layers of clothing were re-donned and the windows slid back into a more manageable state. But where has the peach juice disappeared to? Hmmm, we had been warned about personal security on Latin American buses, particularly when it’s dark. A torch-lit investigation reveals no new evidence.
Around 7 am, the coach begins to trundle through the upper suburbs of La Paz. The urban wasteland is quite horrific, even worse than Kathmandu: again flimsy brick buildings lie unfinished, unloved, and barely lived in. Of course this isn’t living; it’s merely surviving. Aymara women go about their daily business, their babies wrapped around their backs, and the whole beautiful ensemble of their costume evokes the bliss of simple village life. But here in La Paz, in El Alto, there is no bliss, and life is far from simple.
We coast down into the main bus terminal, book our tickets out of here immediately (we’re leaving tomorrow morning to seek a few days’ refuge at a lakeside retreat!) and jump in a taxi to head straight for the action: Calle Sagarnaga. Have you ever been to a witches’ market? No? Well that’s our plan! By 09.00 we are checked into the slightly mouldy and frayed Hotel Alem (but hard to grumble, given the price…) and ready to explore this amazing city, perhaps the most unusual, dare one say ‘exotic’ of the continent. But it’s in the clouds, literally, We look skywards to see the favellas on the steep hillsides, but as yet they are obscured in the mist.
Oh, it’s Sunday! So we should really attend High Mass in the highest capital city in the world! We seek out the ancient, colonial church of San Francisco, where the fortress-like, mighty stonework is made all the more astonishing by each and every altar, from the sides to the east end being decorated right up to the ceiling in shining gold, complete with myriad painted and adorned statues. Halfway through mass, a young La Pazian gets up, lights a cigarette and strolls out of the west doors. The offertory chant, accompanied on the Hammond organ with maximum tremolo is ‘Blowing in the Wind’. We shake hands enthusiastically with all around us at the Peace, and sit patiently as hundreds go up for communion. On the street right outside, we stop as a small Indian women sits at a brazier frying something with a very peculiar odour. It smells like burning tin foil, so we peer down more closely at the contents of her frying pan and the pile of pre-prepared morsels she has already begun to pile up on a plate. Oh: it IS tin foil. She and her husband try to convince us that it’s pure silver she’s frying up (la Plata) and that we should try some: “it’s good for you!” We do double takes, and hurry along in search of a real breakfast.
The Witches’ Market is in full flow by the time we get there, but we decide not to buy llama foetuses (lucy charms to bury under your house) or dired frogs. Incidentally did you know how large a llama foetus actually is? Well these were at least the size of a pretty hefty chicken, and whilst some were emaciated or just skeletal, a few we found were furry. We proceeded onwards to haggle some great deals on typical, hand-woven textiles. La Paz has swiftly worked its magic on us, and it will be a shame to leave so soon!
This city has quickly become one of our favourites, if only for its amazing markets, vibrant feel and dizzying views upwards to the favelas.

Sucre Day 2

And here's just what it looked like!
With only one full day in the legal capital of Bolivia, we needed to move fast! The Hostal Amigo had served us well, with a balcony room overlooking one of the beautiful streets in the centre, just a stone’s throw from the Plaza 25 de Mayo. Street life is always wonderful to observe: here the women don’t wear the Bowlers, but a more whacky style of Sombrero. And the bottled gas van rings a bell on the top of the cab!
Our first stop on our rapid trip to Sucre was to the Cal Ork’o cement works. Yes: here there is to be found the Parque Cretácico where we were able to observe dinosaur footprints, preserved intact from the final era of the dinosaurs. If you’d like to see them, move quickly, for geologists estimate that the entire escarpment on which they are to be found will collapse within the next fifteen years. We also learned how following the separation of the Pangea single continent, South America had many more openings for saline waters. In fact, it seemed that on the diagram, a channel from the Atlantic Ocean reached where the salt flats are today before this path closed over to enclose a lake. Another fact for you is that the Andes are the youngest mountain range in the world and tectonic movements caused them to rise dramatically, also much later than the division of Pangea. After the overwhelming information on footprints and geomorphology of Latin America, it was on to the bus terminal, where Jon managed to clinch a deal to La Paz on a very comfortable bus for just 60 Bolivianos, where some other hapless travellers had to pay 100. Happy days!
Although Santa Teresa was closed, on the way up the incline heading from the main Plaza we stopped at the open door of the mighty church of Santo Domingo. The opening times of the churches in Sucre are a moveable feast, so it’s necessary to pounce when you can! The side altars here are fantastic; a riot of gold-leaf. The monasteries and convents in this city are not just reminders of the past age: they are still working, praying for the city, for the world, and for you and me. Two days ago in Potosi we stopped a Franciscan monk in a bright red baseball cap to bless a rosary bought in the gift shoip of the parish church of Tupiza. He blessed the rosary, then he blessed us, too!
The next stop was the working convent of Santa Clara, not just to meet the nuns of this closed order, but to observe the wonderful cloister and astonishing works of art. Simon was just itching to play the baroque organ at the west end of the monastery church, but time was against us! Next we climbed the hill to the viewpoint at La Recoleta, where we could see the entire city spreading out beneath us. The colonial centre is completely surrounded both by hills and by the earthy shanties which tumble down. Travelling by bus through this more authentically Bolivian area was a revelation: street markets selling all manner of goods, and textiles for the locals just exactly the same as the expensive versions in the tourist ghetto.
We’re off now to catch the 19.30 departure to La Paz; see you there!

Sucre: Day 1

The bus journey from Potosi to Sucre was an astonishing experience! The favellas of Potosi literally cling to the hillsides, and driving through them was an experience of grinding poverty and grim determination. Whilst the socially deprived of Brazil seem to have a smile and a lust for life (as well as a way of doing everything to loud music), here the Bolivian equivalent seems to reflect the horror and pointlessness of poverty and destitution. Few smiles, and even fewer laughs. But then suddenly a beautiful old women, clad in traditional Andean costume gets on the bus, and looking helpless and lost, asks Simon to show her to her seat. “Gracias!” A tiny boy runs up and down the aisle singing “Si, si, si, la vida en Potosi,” clapping furiously. We tip him the princely sum of one Boliviano.
As we descend towards Sucre, the valleys become greener and lusher: very inviting, in fact, and around every sharp bend in the road, another breathtaking Andes view greets us. We travel through countless villages, many strewn with litter, rubbish and stones, many buildings being unfinished, with the exposed, thin brick-work looking very sorry for itself. Again, many walls and buildings seem to be of mud rather than the smart white-washed walls we were expecting, and the roofing material nowadays seems to be more corrugated iron than terracotta tiling. This country is in a mess, and its people at grass-roots level are severely poorly served. But what can be done?
We travelled slowly through the sprawling shanty towns surrounding Sucre. What a shock, but then this IS part of the Latin America we came to visit. But it seems harsher somehow than the equivalent settlements in Asia; why, we’ll just have to wait and see. And we certainly didn’t expect to see this kind of urban nightmare tagged onto one of the continent’s most elegant and noble cities. So to cleanse ourselves, we set out in the old centre of whitewashed buildings to explore some historical sites: the Cathedral and seat of the Archbishop (the senior church of all Bolivia), with its Cappilla of the Virgin of Guadalupe, encrusted with precious stones, and the church of San Francisco with its massive golden reredos. We were then amazed at the variety of fruit and vegetables available at the Mercado Central. So much so that we bought lots to cook Bolivian style! We ate a juicy, ripe chirimoya (custard apple) and then rustled up a chilli and mango dish with local sausage and spiced quinoa. Yum!

Potosi

We arrived in the mighty city of Potosi at around 2 am where all was still in the old town, high above the sprawling favelas of the newer city below. The Cerro Rico was illuminated all the way to the summit with red lights on the left, and green on the right. We stumbled upon the Hostal Maria Victoria, and quickly set about catching up with some sleep. It was only when we arose the following morning that it became obvious we had just spent the night in an antique cell belonging to a Domenican friar, as we emerged into the daylight of a tiny cloister, complete with a carefully trimmed central tree and plenty of rosebushes. This lodging was part of the old monastery attached to the church of Santo Domingo, with its impressive array of bells in the bell tower. What a fantastic way to get under the skin of the city of Potosi: a colonial gem, with the entire upper part of town being designated a UNESCO World Heritage site!
A hearty Bolivian-style breakfast of strong coffee, orange juice, cake, bread and butter with marmelade kick-started the day. Orientation and exploration began with a visit to the San Francisco monastery, where we climbed onto the roof to admire the cityscape beneath and the mountain above. It became obvious that the doorways of the grand, Spanish churches faced the Cerro Rico which made the European inhabitants unbelievably wealthy, whilst the doors of the more modest churches built for the indigenia faced away from the mountain, to avoid glimpsing the place where they would surely die. This city has an horrific past: millions of people died in the mines of this mountain groaning with silver. It is still being worked by cooperatives to this day, and just three weeks ago the left hand side of the summit collapsed due to the mining weakening the entire hillside. We decided with a heavy heart that for humanitarian reasons, as well as our on personal safety, we would not be entering the mine today. But we did descend to the crypt of San Francisco to see the skulls of the nobility who died here centuries ago.
The mighty cathedral is undergoing a huge project of restoration, and after climbing the bell-tower for another vista of the city, we explored the interior of the building, where the pillars have been completely re-gilded and painted.
It was time for a pit stop. Both Jon and Simon were eager to try Maté de Coca: the chewing of Coca leaves or the drinking of Coca tea is a widespread practice here to combat altitude and fatigue. The miners use it to numb their senses in order to persevere down the mine, where, incidentally, they will die within ten years. And just walking around this place at over 4,000m is very demanding, so the tea was a welcome refreshment as we explored the highest city in the world!

Salar de Uyuni Tour: Day 4, The Salt Flat Itself

Another early rise! But this was the important day, the one we had all been waiting for! At half past four the keen few of us had jumped out of bed to see if we were lucky enough not to have rain, and we found that the torrent making the racket throughout the night had turned into a heavy drizzle. About twenty minutes later, the rain had pretty much stopped and the skies were making their best attempt to clear. We were all very tired due to laughing through the night as we heard the loudest cat meow every so often in between the dogs’ constant barks! It sounded like the cat was putting up a very good fight! Not helping with a restful night either was the slight wind that caused our ceiling to creak. Could it have actually fallen down on our heads? Well after checking, all was revealed that it was only made out of polystyrene; hardly worthy of concern after all.
Our twenty-five kilometre drive towards the salt flats seemed very sketchy since the roads were really only one-and-a-half cars wide and had become one stretch of slippery muddy putty due to the night’s precipitous mass. We found our hairs raised as oncoming traffic, such as giant buses and large lorries, came head on competing for the road. Despite all the signs indicating that our jeep was going to skid or roll over, we made it to the salt flats and it was better than what we’d hoped for.
The lake was like a massive mirror of the most powerful reflection. As the clouds began to disperse we were glad of our sunglasses as the sun’s rays were like laser beams that no human eye could tolerate without them. The distant mountains resembled dark diamonds that appeared to be magically floating in the sky, as were some of the piles of salt that we saw every so often.
The hammering rain had turned out to be a bit of a blessing as the Salar de Uyuni only reflects so well when it has been surfaced with rain. Without rain, it would be like going to a never ending beach with brilliant white, but coarse sand. The salt crystals were indeed quite large and some of our friends who removed their shoes to walk on the world’s largest salt flat were in quite a bit of pain due to the coarseness.
One particular mountain with a snowy cap and a mixture of a brown, rocky and green, vegetated body reflected itself beautifully and the clouds in the sky created an amazingly fairytale atmosphere.

Salar de Uyuni Tour: Day 3, Fantastic Flamencos!

Another breakdown one hour into the day, but what better location than Árbol de Piedra and the moonscape like surroundings to be stuck for a while. It was magical, being so high in the Andes being dusted lightly with snow. We amused ourselves by climbing up the rocks and exploring around, plus humouring the most remote toilet we’ve ever seen. And a rigorous snowball fight was in order! This beautiful, and unique, setting was incomparable to the wonderful Laguna Colorado where we watched hundreds of pink flamingos: Some were sifting for algae with their long, dodo-like beaks, others were swooping over the surface and revealing their stunning, large black and rosy wings. The baby flamencos had white plumages and created a variety in the setting. And the laguna was topped off by steam produced by more peripheral hot springs.
Later at Laguna Hedionda, we watched on even more flamingos going about their business, this time tucked in a valley of rainbow-coloured mountains. Continuing on our way, we made it to the foot of Volcan Ollagüe, which is still active. The only visual barrier was the huge, low-lying, inky cloud that prevented us from being able to see the smoke that drifts from the peak’s crater.
On the way to our stop in Uyuni, we stopped in San Cristobal for a hearty empanada. It was delicious and resembled very well a Cornish pasty, only the crimping followed the centre, rather than one of the edges. On the way into the village we saw the large, unfriendly-looking Japanese machines that were reaping the value of the Bolivian’s ‘terra madre’.
On arrival to the town of Uyuni, our hostel was a stunning courtyard where all the small, cosy rooms looked out onto each other. Each room was like a small, single-storey terraced house with a straw roof and white walls. Quiet by comparison to the real street outside with Bolivians going about their daily chores and packs of wild dogs roaming and rooting for food.

Salar de Uyuni Tour: Day 2, Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa

It was minus five degrees when we woke up at five in the morning for an early start. It was indeed difficult but it was worth it!
Pueblo Fantasma is 4690 metres above sea level and it’s been completely abandoned since the 1800s, now only home to curious chinchillas and vicuñas. The village lies in the shadow of Monte Lípez, which although unstable for mining, has massive supplies of gold, sulphur and zinc. In the next ten years the Japanese will begin extracting minerals from there, but not until they have finished up in San Cristobal, near Uyuni. Pueblo Fantasma was inhabited only by indigenous peoples until the Spanish came over in the sixteenth century, making slaves out of them to gather mineral ores. Much interbreeding occurred between the Spanish and the indigenous, and also close inbreeding within families. This lead to malformed children and the Spanish abandoned the settlement, taking the cures for western diseases and medical expertise with them, leaving the helpless remainder for dead. The city itself is currently stone ruins that may be comparable to that of Machu Picchu in Peru, very different to the mud brick settlements that surround the area even though these villages only seemed to occur very rarely.
We stopped at a small shack in the middle of this Andean desert and bought tickets to the Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa. Perhaps this would compete with the salt lake finalé? Time will tell.
We proceeded past Laguna Morejon and observed Volcano Uturuncu, which stands at 6,008 metres high. We then passed though two more villages where the mud architecture continued to be the prevalent style. We firstly visited the village of Quetena Chica and then Quetena Grande, both of which have Chilean inhabitants thus also the absence of the Quechua language, unusual for this region of Bolivia. It turned out, however, that Quetena Chica was actually ‘grande’ and Quetena Grande was actually ‘chica’.
It was at our next stop, Laguna Hedionda, where the another group’s jeep decided to break down and keep us there for three hours. Not to worry though as we were plentifully occupied by the two beautiful flamingos that were frightened off by a telltale sparrow that warned them of our presence. It was a shame to have spoilt the flamencos’ dinner of algae but even more of a pity that we haven’t got the best flamingo pictures yet. Talking of dinner, ours were delicious tender steaks of llama, which, in terms of meat, had oodles of flavour and went well with the delicious salad of tomatoes and onions.
We then headed past the Kollpa Laguna and the Salar de Chalviri towards the Laguna Verde. At the Laguna Verde we got a fantastic glimpse of the Volcano Licancabur, who’s shape fits the pointed, conical stereotype and lies in the high Andes on the border with Chile.
The Rocas de Dali were soon to follow and these are named after the artist who painted them in landscapes. The most novel part of this day were the hot springs that are heated to thirty-five degrees by lava far below. Quite a nice contrast to the almost chilling air temperature! We had great fun splashing around with some great friends we made throughout the tour, including Martin, Christian and Shirley. Not only did we manage to dip in the hot springs, but we also managed to gaze at the nearby geysers, which were 5200 metres above sea level and we were sure to remain upwind of the bitter stench of sulphur that leached into the air.
In just over an hour we arrived at Huallajara, which was where we got our heads down that night. Beforehand, we managed to practise a lot of Spanish at the dinner table!