This is the bus from Curahuara to Patacamaya (a town about half the way back to La Paz).
The week before, I witnessed a llama sacrifice. Good luck for the camelid festival. Then there was a feast. It was an amazing ceremony, although I'm saving the details for a story...
The weekend of the 10th, I paid 25 Bolivianos for a seat to watch El Gran Poder. Dance groups from all-over Bolivia come to La Paz to perform in the streets. And drink.
The weekend before, I went to Copacabana and happily ate freshly caught trout and enjoyed the peace surrounding the lake.
And lastly...
The children in Bolivia has the most beautiful, thoughtful and lively eyes I've ever seen.
"Quedan los cubanos," they chant, marching down El Prado, the main street in La Paz. A procession of 200-300 Bolivians and Cubans took to the streets today to call for the extension of the Cuban Operation Miracle and the emergency brigade health initiatives.
"Gracias Cuba," they continue.
A contingent of 732 Cuban health workers are working throughout the nine departments of Bolivia. Of those health workers, 122 are working in optomology.
Nikanora Vargas stood outside the Ministry of Health and Sport with a white-gauze patch over her right eye (below).
She travelled from Sorata, north west of La Paz, to show her support for Operation Miracle. Vargas was one of many in the crowd who had receive cataracts and pterygium operations from Cuban doctors.
Cuban optomologists have helped a total of 8,762 patients in Bolivia and 1,638 in Cuba, quotes a flyer distributed by the marchers. The health bridages have treated a further 499,462 Bolivians. Those are significant numbers in a country of only about 9 million people.
The Cubans arrived in Bolivia following Morales' win in the December 2005 election. The expenses of the initiative are paid for by the Cuban government.
Marchers stalled traffic along El Prado for about 30 minutes. While there was a police presence throughout the marchers' route, the police posed no opposition to the demonstration *that I saw*.
Bolivians are inspiringly involved in their country. During my now two full weeks here, I´ve seen one road block, two strikes, one (pretend) demonstration, and two political rallies. That´s besides the countless political slogans and enticements painted on walls, homes and collapsed bridges.
Yes. Those are my boots, standing on ice in the Bolivian Altiplano.
Before arriving here, I was in complete denial that it was going to be winter here and that winter in Bolivia was cold.
···
I had a true Bolivian movie experience last night. There were only the cheap tickets left for El Código Davinci -- so we sat on the bare-board bleachers (the "galería" section), three storeys up, for over two hours.
And with the theme of the movie fresh in my mind, I thought I´d throw in this photo of the frescos inside the church in Curahuara de Carangas. No one can tell me the name of the painter(s) but the frescos date to the 16th and 17th centuries and are amazingly well preserved.
This one is titled "El Baptismo de Sangre."
I got caught in the middle of this craziness in La Plaza of Curahuara de Carangas last Thursday.
···
While finishing my fifth meal of llama meat in three days, I hear loud cheering in La Plaza -- the centre of town. I walk to the door of the one room restaurant (where the cook prepares the menu del día in a smart-car size kitchen behind a blue tarp).
A man in a suit is making an announcement from a podium and a crowd of about 40 young men cheer each time the man pauses. But, after two or three cheers, they start boo-ing.
It doesn´t stop.
In a sudden movement of camouflage uniforms, the man in the suit is ushered into a jeep and the vehicle speeds away, followed by an ambulance.
Simultaneously, two army trucks of military police rumble up a dirt sidestreet into La Plaza. More military police than I can count, jump out of the truck and and start moving towards the group of young men.
The Curahuanians start throwing stones at the encroaching lines of chanting military police.
Being the opportunistic journalist, I pull out my camera and start shooting, shooting, shooting.
The military police are pushing the group of yelling, kicking, rubble-throwing young men up a street, away from La Plaza. As the young men begin to fight back, the military police start throwing tear gas bombs. But the Curahuarians are throwing them back.
Meanwhile, I´m still taking photo after photo, sticking near the Bolivian journalists who are taping the event. It´ll be safer that way -- it is a riot after all.
As the rioting Curahuarians disappear up a side street and the military police cease chasing them and begin to reload their army trucks, I check out the Bolivian journalists´ video equipment.
"Wow, that looks so old," I think, gaining a new appreciation for the handicams of third-year TV at King´s.
"That looks like a cardboard box.
"That is a cardboard box."
I look around and Curahuarians are relaxing on benches surrounding La Plaza. I find a friend -- Lázaro, who works in communications for the Municipality -- and ask what, exactly, just happen.
The riot -- real tear gas, real guns, man in the suit -- was all a demonstration, a practice run for when Bolivian president Evo Morales attends the Camelid Festival next month.
···
But the riot demonstation was not an isolated military incident during my five days in Curahuara.
I´m writing about water and sanitation in Curahuara, so on Wednesday I took a walk with two CECI co-operants to the town´s water facility. As we approached the water tanks, we found an army platoon (maybe...I don´t know any military terminology) encamped on the water tanks. We cautiously continued our approach, but after walking 10 or 20 metres further, we could see the two guns pointed in our direction.
Military training or not, we quickly turned around without visiting the water tanks.
Then, on Friday, I woke up to the sounds of machine gun fire. More military training.
···
Only one thing rivals the presence of the military in Curahuara de Carangas: camelids.
The camelids -- the llamas and alpacas -- are the much more relaxing side to the town (which is 228km south of La Paz). I´m still working on how to tell a llama from an alpaca, and then there are also the wild species of vicuña and guanaco.
I found this man bottle-feeding a llama on a side street in Curahuara. He graciously let me take a picture in exchange for a copy.
Occasionally, a herd of camelids will wander into Curahuara, followed by their owner on a bicycle. Or, a cholita watches the herd while spinning wool (bottom left).
Life is simple on the surface of Curahuara. But the quitely grazing camelids on the Altiplano and the children giggling as the gringa (me) walks past are misleading.
There are seven toilets in this town of about 1,000. Three are at the best hostel in town, two are at APCI -- a knitting and weaving co-operative and one is at the Alcaldía, or muicipal office. The lone public bathroom is permanently locked.
The smell of sewage is pungent in the streets. Waste and toilet paper (red here) seep through the gullies of sand that weave through the streets. Outside the town, one must avoid the inevitable piles of human and animal feces. People just walk out of plain view to use the bathroom.
One spot a CECI co-operant showed me was a stream where children play. Along the banks are human and animal feces, and garbage.
Curahuara is considered a "Model Municipality." No one can quite tell me what that means. There are 32 non-governmental organizations working here, including CECI who I´m writing about.
The journalism work is going well. The only snag is that "media intern" was translated into "pasante de comunición" which some people interpret as public relations. I´m fighting the good fight though :)
I had originally planned to return here to La Paz on Friday morning, but ended up taking an unexpected but amazing detour to Turco.
There is a dirt road (washed out in places) that leads from Curahuara to Turco. Both towns claim to be the Camelid Capital of South America, so there is a bit of mala sangre between the two. We were headed to Turco to meet with wool and camelid producers.
The wilderness of Bolivia is unbelieveable. There are rock formations and cliffs five or six storeys high. They fence in the herds of llamas and alpacas on the dry coarse grasses of the Altiplano where there isn´t a single tree. There are dried-out river beds, isolated huts and schools, Aymará who run away from our jeep. But there´s also dust -- a beige, fine dust that penetrates cloth and closed windows.
In Turco, we visited a spinning co-operative and then went on to a camelid farm. Below, at left, CECI co-operant María Guay poses with a herd of alpacas. I think. At right, CECI co-operant Rodrigo Henríquez and pup Bubba view the scenery between Curahuara and Turco.
This week I go to Oruro to spend some more time with camelids and probably eat some more llama meat -- be it in soup, steak, charque, or some other form. It´s actually tasty, a bit like beef, and is healthy.
I´ve added the links to the blogs of fellow Uniterra media interns at right. I´m sure more links will follow...
volcanic ash in the other direction and airline officals cleared our plane to leave Miami.
-- Above: Many people feed the pigeons in Plaza Murillo --
I took a guided tour by taxi through the neighbourhoods of the city (arranged by CECI). The traffic here is intense. Taxis, buses and other vehicles clog the streets while pedestrians dodge in between. Agressiveness is the key to getting anywhere, but there´s not really any road rage that I can discern.
After the tour, I have many things I´d like to experience here: tours of a prison in La Paz, the football games, los mercados, Tiahuanaco, Valle de la Luna...
Day Three -- May 14
Walked through the streets of El Prado, Sagárnega and Santa Cruz this morning. I needed a sleeping bag desperately as the nights are much colder here than I had expected. I start shivering once the sun sets.
The man who sold me a down-filled bolsa de dormir for a fair number of U.S. dollars warned me about counterfeit money. He showed me a fake bill and I really can´t tell the difference.
-- Above: La Valle de la Luna --
Took a bus out to La Valle de la Luna this afternoon. The municipal park (I think) is a valley of stalegmite rock formations carved by the wind and sand. It was so hot, semi-desert like, but the free water was greatly appreciated.
Took a micro-bus, like a space wagon, back to the centre of town. The man sitting next to me works at La Valle de la Luna and also warned me about counterfeiting.
The majority of Bolivians are happy to answer questions and offer suggestions. It´s an enjoyable country so far and I´m looking forward to starting my work with Uniterra.
On a final note, I can´t stop taking pictures here. There is so much colour and sunshine and life. The sun is so strong that I can see the rays in some of my photos.
-- Above: By the roadside near La Valle de la Luna --
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