Bolivia, glorious Bolivia!

Viva America Del Sur! The Llama Diaries are resurrected! This time, however, I’m staying put in Bolivia. I’m doing a four week course at the La Paz-based Bolivian Express magazine. It’s an English language publication promoting cultural exchange between Bolivia and the rest of the world. Most Bolivians are materially poor and cannot afford to travel very far abroad (on my flight from Miami to La Paz there were only a handful of Bolivianos) so bringing us lot over means Bolivians can encounter foreigners and foreigners can learn about, and from, the organized chaos of La Paz.

*************************** The magazine’s issues are distinguished thematically, and I’d like to take a leaf from their magazine and do the same for my blog. I start, as life must, with food! When I arrived at the Bolivian Express house (in great time from the airport, after all, why would my taxi driver go to the effort of circumnavigating the whole roundabout when he can just cut across and take the last exit?) the first thing I recognised from my short stay two years before was the smell. Street food is abundant in La Paz, and its aroma is an integral feature of the city. Cholitas bake empanadas to sell on street corners, kids exchange small nuggets of frankly delicious chocolate for Bs. 1 (10p) on the city busses, and heladeros sell ice cream in las plazas. Aside from these stand-out examples, it is the reign of fast-food joints endlessly frying meat that really makes the stray dogs’ ears prick, and my nose tell me I’m back for more South American vida linda. ************************************* - I'm sorry for dropping all the Spanish phrases like a pretentious student, but Bolivia seems better described in Spanish than in English -

********************************************* Street food is found at its best in La Paz’s markets, and it’s a necessary feature if you’re going to get round the whole thing. We went to El Alto market last weekend which is perhaps the largest of its kind.It sells everything from bed sheets to silk ties, and cutlery dividers to glittery dog collars (watch out Echo!). El Alto is considered a different city to La Paz because it was constructed by a working class community whose representative architect designed the houses in a neo-indigenous urban style to play host to both family life, and factory life so people can work primary materials from their homes. To the untrained eye, La Paz and El Alto have merged into one, and a newly built funicular now takes shoppers directly from the centre of La Paz to the vertiginous peaks to which the vendedors cling. We were going to take the funicular back home, but given the very cheap fare, the novelty, and the incredible views, the end of the queue was nowhere to be seen as locals are keen to enjoy their city’s new attraction. So instead, we bought some homemade crisps (not in short supply thanks to the country’s prolific potato cultivation) and nursed our sunburn on the bus. Seriously, the altitude is so immense I felt like I’d grabbed the sun with both hands and given it an Eskimo kiss.

******************************* Over 4,000 different types of potato are grown in the Andes alone. Thanks to my stay at the Hare Krishna Finca in Coroico, I can say with confidence that I’ve encountered a fair few of the notorious spuds. First, let me explain the whole Hare Krishna thing. The Finca is part of an Eco Yoga Park network spanning South America. Hare Krishna is a popular faith not only amongst people living on the continent, but also travellers because they offer food, board and spiritual activities for a reasonable price (£3.50 a day in Coroico). Your average gringo is hungry for these three things. The Finca itself consisted of a temple, a kitchen, three bedrooms and some eco compost toilets. Life revolved around the inextricable link between the kitchen and the temple. Every item eaten must first be prepared with love, for Krishna. That the food is vegetarian (except for eggs and garlic) requires a lot of preparation like chopping, washing, peeling and grinding. To complete my required voluntary service, I peeled potatoes every day. Hence my close acquaintance with them! Following the preparation, the food is be blessed and offered to Krishna. I was lucky enough to attend a fire ceremony on my second day. This involved building a fire in Coroico's cloud forest which is unsurprisingly quite hard, and then throwing a lot of rice about. Finally, a prayer is said before the food is consumed, and Krishna pop is listened to during the meal. You can check out George Harrison’s interpretation of this genre on YouTube.

*************************************** I have never witnessed such devotion before. The Brazilian monk, Rada, and the Colombian madre (unfortunately I couldn’t pronounce or hence learn her name), and their little boy, spent every second of their day chanting, reading sacred texts, talking about Krishna, or cooking in the name of Krishna. Food, singing, discussion, and reading were all conduits to enunciate his influence in their lives. It was certainly food for thought: both inspiring in terms of their discipline of mind, and, ironically, unbelievable: How can anyone believe in something that much to renounce all other forms of life? Thankfully, I was joined by two other travelling comrades, Leyla from Chile and Wim from the Netherlands, whose discussions over Uno definitely helped me digest the whole experience. It’s amazing how travelling by yourself is never really that lonely – there’s always someone going your way and doing what you’re doing.

************************************* I draw to a close this blog post with two questions for my readers revolving around my chosen binding agent for today: food. First of all, whilst Leyla and I were walking in Coroico’s spectacular cloud forest, a kid ran up and offered to sell as a Toucan. Was it to eat? And second, I want to know why we don’t eat spiders. A spider the size of my hand was found hanging ominously from the wall of us voluntarios’ bedroom one evening... I would have felt much better to know it was in a cooking pot than lurking outside my door, or in my shoe, all night. And I’m a vegetarian.

Rama Rama Hare Hare

Breakfast is every morning at 8 30. We then work from 9 to 11 30, when we take a break, before continuing our activity until lunchtime: 1 30. After lunch, we are free to do as we please until yoga at 4 30, our snack at 6 and dinner at 8. This is my daily routine at the Hare Krishna ashram where I’m staying for two weeks – one more to go. The devotees actually start their day at 5 with chanting and meditation, but us voluntarios prefer to stay in bed where it’s warm and comfy. The monks and mothers that live at the farm are all friendly, caring and surprisingly young people, some of whom led very world-wind lives before they arrived here. I’m working on the organic farm. We change our tasks every day, for example I have helped to build a manure house (not a house for manure but a house made out of manure!), weeding, hoeing (I never knew how much the land in Argentina needed to be hoed! One day, I hoepe we will have hoed enough…), chopping and washing up. It’s all pretty hard work, actually, but it does keep us warm. As we are only eating vegan meals, there is a lot of grating, peeling and mashing to be done, and they make so much food. Every meal preparation feels like we’re about to feed five thousand people. Eating is considered a spiritual meditation and act of thanks to Krishna, so the meals are always arranged beautifully and no food is ever wasted. It’s a very efficient farm, whatever is left over is fed to the various animals that live along side us. Only two of the six dogs that live here were invited – the others just turned up – and neither of the two chickens nor the two cockerels. The dogs are all very sweet and a constant source of entertainment/warmth, the cockerels on the other hand have no concept of time and crow at midnight, or at three in the afternoon. Yoga classes are everyday and often quite hard work, but again they warm us up. After not really feeling like I can roll out a yoga mat in a ten-bed hostal dorm room for the past three months, I’m embarrassingly unflexible, but little and often every day is the best way to improve, they say! The mediation classes are really nice, sometimes the mother taking the class will sing or play an instrument, and sometimes we just lie in quiet. I’m loving this detox. No wine, meat or dairy products for two weeks is doing me good! The farm is in the Argentinian country side just outside of Buenos Aires. It’s as flat as a pancake in every direction, apart from the rows and rows of trees around each field. It’s a peaceful and tranquil place- you can see all the stars and every corner of the sky- and it's also horse country! I walked past a field of about thirty horses yesterday, and we forever see gauchos riding their steeds over to their friends’ house if they need to have a word about a dog. I originally planned to stay here for three weeks, but on account of the blistering cold I’m leaving early. Back to BA, back to pastries and coffee!