Sunday, June 1, 2008
Future?
I have just signed a paper that means living in another city, again. Lima seems to be in my future. Maybe it was not mentioned before, that I live now in Santiago (and this is written from Geneva, where I was living before.)
Postcard from Italy
Suddenly, I was in Italy. It was unclear why my mind and body had landed there on a beautiful spring afternoon. Where was my soul, by the way? Well, there was a secret agreement with myself not to ask too many questions. And then, the doors opened and I walked into the first of many trains towards the northern part of the country. Final destination, Geneva.
^^^^
Padova, silent and rainy on a Saturday afternoon. Very little people in the streets, but the situation changes as the night falls. Sidewalks are covered by arcades or ‘porticos’, and following those I get lost into the night. Then there is a bridge, and a very quiet river surrounded by many trees. There is a medieval quality to this city, even stronger in the darkness. Where is the people? asks another wanderer. Back to the central area, that’s where they are, in the bars around the market, or drinking outside the duomo. Many are university students. There is an amazing café, called Pedrocchi. Is like being transported to a very different and aristocratic past, except for my old jeans and sandals. I order a beautiful gin tonic.
^^^^
When it rains, Venice has another kind of beauty. Well, maybe if it rains for a while, and not the whole day like it happened that Sunday. My umbrella was broken, my clothes wet.
^^^^
Some nasty words are printed too often in the papers of this Italy of 2008. The words are: racism, xenophobia, facism. The extreme right is in power, and many people are talking about how illegal migrants are ruining the country. They call us ‘extracommunitarian’ a term that is negatively charged. New laws for migrants and visitors are announced. Gipsy camps were burned here and there. Skinheads take control over public squares, specially in some cities of the North of Italy. They use sunglasses, even during the night. And in spite of all the things that Italy has given to the world, of the amazing ideas, and the beauty of the landscapes and the cities, of the nice bookstores, I feel uneasy, and disappointed, and sometimes even afraid. And think a lot about the future.
^^^^
In a small bar in Venice I make some friends. If it wasn’t raining we could go to the beach, said one of them. Then we start talking about crime. And I mention that Padova seems to be a very safe city, but still they are organizing civilians to patrol the city at night. It is absurd, in my opinion. One of them agrees, but says that there ire always some unsafe places, mainly because of the extracommunitarians (like me, by the way). My answer is that I am more afraid of ‘communitarian’ civilians patrolling the streets. My feeling is that they wouldn’t take me to the beach after that comment. Voilá.
^^^^
Italy is amazing in many senses. People, monuments, food, rural landscapes, old cities, expresso coffee, history everywhere, art, architecture and design, fashion, football, Mediterranean sea, rivers, and so many others. One thing that is always surprising to me are the bookstores. So many, so huge, and so full of books. Of a kind that is difficult to find elsewhere. How many Italians read? Friends tell me very few. But I can’t believe it. And it is in these bookstores where I find refuge. Last time I got a CD. The famous Berlin Concert, piano played by Glen Gould, local orchestra directed by Von Karajan, composer Beethoven. And a few books too.
^^^^
‘Gomorra’ seems to be the book of the moment in Italy. It is now a movie too. I open it in a train: the author, Saviano, gets a job with a Chinese that is somehow connected with the mafia in Naples, known as Camorra. But they call themselves ‘The System’, he says. And the book is about the activities of this System that seems to permeate everything. The shocking part is that this is not a fiction book.
^^^^
In the centre of Bologna, everything seems to be happening. Or… it’s just a feeling. For some reason that I am not quite ready to explain, this city makes me (and many others) feel good. Walking around again. Lots of students in the street. Endless arcades (or porticos). All kinds of red paint in the walls of houses and buildings. Some places from where you can spy the many canals under the streets and buildings that also contribute to the peculiarity of this city. A good novel about Bologna, ‘Almost Blue’. Some cybernauts using the wireless connection in the courtyard of an old palace. Aperitivo hour strictly respected. Famous foods too. Memories or the partisans who fought against facism. A fantastic Neptune statue right in the middle of the city. Lots of memories from previous visits, for example the very first time in 1991 or 2 when the winter was almost there and the streets were invaded by the coldest of winds. And even then, and many years later in the summer, and a few days ago in the spring, the two old towers that are characteristic of this city, one of them tall and straight, the other one shorter and twisted.
^^^^
Read in a newspaper in Padova: he suffered and ‘electric death’. Wow. Do they mean a short circuit in the heart?
^^^^
Near Pisa, the chocolate factory. We wanted to see the Amedei house because they are making the best chocolate using Venezuelan beans from Chuao. The factory is in a Tuscan hill, surrounded by vineyards. They don’t open the door, so pictures have to be taken from outside. In Chuao is completely different, in the middle of a Caribbean tropical forest, all doors seem to be open, while the cocoa beans are being dried in the patio in front of the church.
^^^^
Somehow I find myself in a place called Imola. Sunday, nothing to do. ‘This the Ferrari town’, says the tourist office. Couldn’t care less. So I sit in a cafe and think about god. Being an atheist, that could mean anything.
^^^^
Finally I was in a train going north, to Geneva.
^^^^
Padova, silent and rainy on a Saturday afternoon. Very little people in the streets, but the situation changes as the night falls. Sidewalks are covered by arcades or ‘porticos’, and following those I get lost into the night. Then there is a bridge, and a very quiet river surrounded by many trees. There is a medieval quality to this city, even stronger in the darkness. Where is the people? asks another wanderer. Back to the central area, that’s where they are, in the bars around the market, or drinking outside the duomo. Many are university students. There is an amazing café, called Pedrocchi. Is like being transported to a very different and aristocratic past, except for my old jeans and sandals. I order a beautiful gin tonic.
^^^^
When it rains, Venice has another kind of beauty. Well, maybe if it rains for a while, and not the whole day like it happened that Sunday. My umbrella was broken, my clothes wet.
^^^^
Some nasty words are printed too often in the papers of this Italy of 2008. The words are: racism, xenophobia, facism. The extreme right is in power, and many people are talking about how illegal migrants are ruining the country. They call us ‘extracommunitarian’ a term that is negatively charged. New laws for migrants and visitors are announced. Gipsy camps were burned here and there. Skinheads take control over public squares, specially in some cities of the North of Italy. They use sunglasses, even during the night. And in spite of all the things that Italy has given to the world, of the amazing ideas, and the beauty of the landscapes and the cities, of the nice bookstores, I feel uneasy, and disappointed, and sometimes even afraid. And think a lot about the future.
^^^^
In a small bar in Venice I make some friends. If it wasn’t raining we could go to the beach, said one of them. Then we start talking about crime. And I mention that Padova seems to be a very safe city, but still they are organizing civilians to patrol the city at night. It is absurd, in my opinion. One of them agrees, but says that there ire always some unsafe places, mainly because of the extracommunitarians (like me, by the way). My answer is that I am more afraid of ‘communitarian’ civilians patrolling the streets. My feeling is that they wouldn’t take me to the beach after that comment. Voilá.
^^^^
Italy is amazing in many senses. People, monuments, food, rural landscapes, old cities, expresso coffee, history everywhere, art, architecture and design, fashion, football, Mediterranean sea, rivers, and so many others. One thing that is always surprising to me are the bookstores. So many, so huge, and so full of books. Of a kind that is difficult to find elsewhere. How many Italians read? Friends tell me very few. But I can’t believe it. And it is in these bookstores where I find refuge. Last time I got a CD. The famous Berlin Concert, piano played by Glen Gould, local orchestra directed by Von Karajan, composer Beethoven. And a few books too.
^^^^
‘Gomorra’ seems to be the book of the moment in Italy. It is now a movie too. I open it in a train: the author, Saviano, gets a job with a Chinese that is somehow connected with the mafia in Naples, known as Camorra. But they call themselves ‘The System’, he says. And the book is about the activities of this System that seems to permeate everything. The shocking part is that this is not a fiction book.
^^^^
In the centre of Bologna, everything seems to be happening. Or… it’s just a feeling. For some reason that I am not quite ready to explain, this city makes me (and many others) feel good. Walking around again. Lots of students in the street. Endless arcades (or porticos). All kinds of red paint in the walls of houses and buildings. Some places from where you can spy the many canals under the streets and buildings that also contribute to the peculiarity of this city. A good novel about Bologna, ‘Almost Blue’. Some cybernauts using the wireless connection in the courtyard of an old palace. Aperitivo hour strictly respected. Famous foods too. Memories or the partisans who fought against facism. A fantastic Neptune statue right in the middle of the city. Lots of memories from previous visits, for example the very first time in 1991 or 2 when the winter was almost there and the streets were invaded by the coldest of winds. And even then, and many years later in the summer, and a few days ago in the spring, the two old towers that are characteristic of this city, one of them tall and straight, the other one shorter and twisted.
^^^^
Read in a newspaper in Padova: he suffered and ‘electric death’. Wow. Do they mean a short circuit in the heart?
^^^^
Near Pisa, the chocolate factory. We wanted to see the Amedei house because they are making the best chocolate using Venezuelan beans from Chuao. The factory is in a Tuscan hill, surrounded by vineyards. They don’t open the door, so pictures have to be taken from outside. In Chuao is completely different, in the middle of a Caribbean tropical forest, all doors seem to be open, while the cocoa beans are being dried in the patio in front of the church.
^^^^
Somehow I find myself in a place called Imola. Sunday, nothing to do. ‘This the Ferrari town’, says the tourist office. Couldn’t care less. So I sit in a cafe and think about god. Being an atheist, that could mean anything.
^^^^
Finally I was in a train going north, to Geneva.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
To see to believe
Yes, there are some pictures taken in Bolivia. If you have been reading this blog, the Flickr site with photos may be interesting. Please check the menu on your right side: 'Bolivia mercados', with some pics taken in Cochabamba, La Paz and El Alto, and 'Bolivia Chiquitos', with pics taken in the eastern part of the country in the 'Jesuit circuit'.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Blogs, projects, dreams
The journey, like a dream, may come to an end. In this case, after almost a month of travel, I am now back in my house. And in this part of the planet the sun is pale now, and even if the temperatures are still pleasant, it means that the winter is coming. The park in front of my eyes is full of autumn leaves. Meanwhile I wonder about blogs, projects, and the nature of dreams.
Travelling was a therapy, in many senses. But now it is time to go ahead.
I still have the project to develop a network of blogs (in Spanish). It is going to be hard. Well, I am working now in those blogs, knowing the challenges involved: sustainability (the main one), and the difficulty to deal with all of this alone at this moment.
Other projects, I feel like,,,, Those will never happen, in my opinion. Like the network of children bloggers, or the ‘Memory of the XXth Century’. Maybe, I will find on the road an institution that would like to take them, who knows. Not to talk about the project for a couple books involving: food, people, culture, travel, geography, environment, agriculture, cooking, history, all at the same time. These are already in the freezer.
All of these projects, of course, also depend on how much work I have in the future. It often looks as if I am unemployed, but actually I do have a freelance job. And this job may become more intense, demanding, interesting, and challenging in the near future.
Well, this is transparent enough. I wont say anything about the nature of dreams, of course. Except that I have lots.
Tonight, I am coming back from a Bikram Yoga class. Also a therapy.
What can I say about this blog, The Vagabundo? There will be more travel and maybe some more posts. But the trip to Bolivia is over.
Travelling was a therapy, in many senses. But now it is time to go ahead.
I still have the project to develop a network of blogs (in Spanish). It is going to be hard. Well, I am working now in those blogs, knowing the challenges involved: sustainability (the main one), and the difficulty to deal with all of this alone at this moment.
Other projects, I feel like,,,, Those will never happen, in my opinion. Like the network of children bloggers, or the ‘Memory of the XXth Century’. Maybe, I will find on the road an institution that would like to take them, who knows. Not to talk about the project for a couple books involving: food, people, culture, travel, geography, environment, agriculture, cooking, history, all at the same time. These are already in the freezer.
All of these projects, of course, also depend on how much work I have in the future. It often looks as if I am unemployed, but actually I do have a freelance job. And this job may become more intense, demanding, interesting, and challenging in the near future.
Well, this is transparent enough. I wont say anything about the nature of dreams, of course. Except that I have lots.
Tonight, I am coming back from a Bikram Yoga class. Also a therapy.
What can I say about this blog, The Vagabundo? There will be more travel and maybe some more posts. But the trip to Bolivia is over.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The cebiche affaire
This is what it takes: very fresh raw fish, hot chili pepper, salt and black pepper, onion, and lemon juice. It looks simple, but the cebiche, the best known Peruvian food, takes a lot more if it is going to be a good one. And that's the reason why yesterday I rang the bell in what looked like a family house in Lima in order to meet a a man that is also a legend among those who look for the best cebiche: Javier Wong
It takes time to get there. First, you need to get a place, and there are only 6 or 7 small tables in this house. And then you need to find the house, in a small street around La Victoria in Lima. Very few people know about this restaurant. However, it is enough to keep it full everyday. And in any case, the name of the cook is quoted more often in the media, in a country where food is a matter of national pride. He was one of the Peruvian stars in the latest 'Madrid Fusión' gastronomic show.
Wong is a Chinese descendant in a country that in the past has received lots of migrants from Asia, mainly from China and Japan. The integration of those migrants to the Peruvian society has had a big influence over the food. And there are 2 types of food created by that fusion: the Chifa food (Chinese), and the Nikkei food (Japanese).
In this underground restaurant you eat cebiche as a starter. Javier Wong is in one corner of the restaurant making it the moment you order. He uses only sole fish, huge ones. And it is a show to see him cutting the big fish and the ingredients in order to mix them in a bowl. So here is how he makes it: first the red onion, then the chili pepper know as 'ají limo' (see the 'ingredientes' folder at http://www.flickr.com/photos/luiscor/), then black pepper and salt. And, of course, the raw fish. He mixes it, and just before serving adds a bit of lemon juice.
Well, to tell you the truth, most cooks do that. But there is something in Wong's cebiche. Then you discover that this is not only cooking. The result is a raw fish (the lemon is for taste, it doesn't get to cook the fish), very spicy, and so tasty. An experience. Forgot to say that the day I went, he also added octopus.
Then Javier Wong offers a hot dish. Usually he makes only one, depending on the ingredients he has and how he feels. There is no choice. This time it was sole again, but cooked in the wok with Chinese ingredients. He goes out to a small courtyard and produces a lot of fire and smoke around that wok. The result is really amazing.
There is one thing about Wong's place: it may be the most expensive place I have been in this city.
However, it is also a good moment to wonder if looking for the best cebiche here is not a useless mission. Because there are so many places where one can find the 'experience'. It is important to understand that food is a major feature in visits to Perú, that there are tourists coming here only to eat in restaurants, that the Peruvian food is being exported to the world, and this means that there are amazing chefs and places to eat, and the markets are full of fresh, first quality products.
Cebiche is everywhere in Lima. And everyone has something to say about the preparation of the raw fish, or about where to go, what kind of fish should be used. The cebicherías are part of the geography of this city. But be aware: this is not food to be eaten for dinner here in Lima. It is for lunch, and most cebicherías are already closed by 4 or 5 pm.
My own favorite place is 'La Mar', one of the restaurants of chef Gastón Acurio, an international star who is also an activist of Peruvian food. You will find only fish here. And of course there are many types of cebiche, including the sliced version called 'tiradito', prepared by very young cooks behind the bar. This is also an experience, of course.
After the cebiche and whatever comes as a main dish, it is always a good idea to walk along the 'malecón', facing the beach of Lima, looking at the very long and dark waves of the Pacific Ocean, dreaming.
(Luis Córdova in Lima)
It takes time to get there. First, you need to get a place, and there are only 6 or 7 small tables in this house. And then you need to find the house, in a small street around La Victoria in Lima. Very few people know about this restaurant. However, it is enough to keep it full everyday. And in any case, the name of the cook is quoted more often in the media, in a country where food is a matter of national pride. He was one of the Peruvian stars in the latest 'Madrid Fusión' gastronomic show.
Wong is a Chinese descendant in a country that in the past has received lots of migrants from Asia, mainly from China and Japan. The integration of those migrants to the Peruvian society has had a big influence over the food. And there are 2 types of food created by that fusion: the Chifa food (Chinese), and the Nikkei food (Japanese).
In this underground restaurant you eat cebiche as a starter. Javier Wong is in one corner of the restaurant making it the moment you order. He uses only sole fish, huge ones. And it is a show to see him cutting the big fish and the ingredients in order to mix them in a bowl. So here is how he makes it: first the red onion, then the chili pepper know as 'ají limo' (see the 'ingredientes' folder at http://www.flickr.com/photos/luiscor/), then black pepper and salt. And, of course, the raw fish. He mixes it, and just before serving adds a bit of lemon juice.
Well, to tell you the truth, most cooks do that. But there is something in Wong's cebiche. Then you discover that this is not only cooking. The result is a raw fish (the lemon is for taste, it doesn't get to cook the fish), very spicy, and so tasty. An experience. Forgot to say that the day I went, he also added octopus.
Then Javier Wong offers a hot dish. Usually he makes only one, depending on the ingredients he has and how he feels. There is no choice. This time it was sole again, but cooked in the wok with Chinese ingredients. He goes out to a small courtyard and produces a lot of fire and smoke around that wok. The result is really amazing.
There is one thing about Wong's place: it may be the most expensive place I have been in this city.
However, it is also a good moment to wonder if looking for the best cebiche here is not a useless mission. Because there are so many places where one can find the 'experience'. It is important to understand that food is a major feature in visits to Perú, that there are tourists coming here only to eat in restaurants, that the Peruvian food is being exported to the world, and this means that there are amazing chefs and places to eat, and the markets are full of fresh, first quality products.
Cebiche is everywhere in Lima. And everyone has something to say about the preparation of the raw fish, or about where to go, what kind of fish should be used. The cebicherías are part of the geography of this city. But be aware: this is not food to be eaten for dinner here in Lima. It is for lunch, and most cebicherías are already closed by 4 or 5 pm.
My own favorite place is 'La Mar', one of the restaurants of chef Gastón Acurio, an international star who is also an activist of Peruvian food. You will find only fish here. And of course there are many types of cebiche, including the sliced version called 'tiradito', prepared by very young cooks behind the bar. This is also an experience, of course.
After the cebiche and whatever comes as a main dish, it is always a good idea to walk along the 'malecón', facing the beach of Lima, looking at the very long and dark waves of the Pacific Ocean, dreaming.
(Luis Córdova in Lima)
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Markets and foods
It was very early Sunday morning in the amazing city of 'El Alto' in Bolivia. The sun was coming out, the sky was blue, the air transparent, the mountains impressive, and the streets were full of people walking fast, all of them going in the same direction: the 'Feria 16 de julio', considered one of the biggest street markets of the world, and surely one of the highest at 4,100 meters over the sea level. People buying and selling all over, speaking Spanish or Aymara. And as it often happens there, the wind was blowing hard.
El Alto was built as a suburb of La Paz (+ - 3,700 meters), a city lying in a valley that looks like a hole when seen from the market. But this was also the fastest growing urban settlement in the world, and now the suburb is a big city in itself, with more people living there than in La Paz, according to some recent data. It looks like a half finished city, full of buildings made of raw brick walls and dirt roads all over. However it is full of life, and also full of small buses for transportation that constitute a plague.
Built around the La Paz airport, El Alto is windy and cold. And the sun also hits hard. 'This sun burns, but it is not warm', said one fellow client at a small street cafeteria while we drank coca leaves tea in order to fight the effects of the altitude. This was in the middle of the market, and I was lost. It is said that there are around 18,000 registered sellers in this 'Feria', plus so many other people unregistered. Of course you can find many things, from a lamb head to be cooked in the grill, to a Japanese second hand car in very good shape.
My trip to the Feria 16 de julio started very early. And it took some hours to walk around, very slowly. There are, of course, a set of secret rules governing the market. Or, at least, secret for an outsider like me. My favorite place was on the edge of the market, on Riles street, the area of a very intense flea market full of used goods of a very diverse nature. When you look down from this part of the market, La Paz is there in a valley. And when you look up, to the other side of the sky, the Andes mountains, covered by glaciers. For the people of the market, who live in El Alto, this breathtaking view is what they see everyday. No one else seems to be impressed.
The existence of such a huge street market in El Alto is only natural in a city that is growing so fast in this part of the world. Street markets are a part of life in the highlands of Bolivia. In small towns and cities, it is very common to see people trading goods, or eating. And one of the best examples is La Paz.
There is a favorite walk in La Paz, a city where streets seem to be going up, and up, and up, while the lungs cry for air. On any Saturday turn from the main avenue of El Prado looking for Rodríguez street, and from there just go ahead, finding one market after the other. They have different names, but in real life it looks like it was only one, huge market place. Always organized. Food that way, traditional clothes used by Aymara women,.including the hats, that other way. Furniture over there, meat around the corner, tools one block farther, smuggled clothes and shoes somewhere else, and electronics in an amazing place called 'Miamicito'.
But markets mean also food. And they care a lot about food in this parts of Bolivia. There is a traditional way of cooking, often the meals have indigenous names, and around the market areas there are people eating everywhere, at all times. It is full of street eateries, where people just seat in improvised restaurants. Covered markets always have a special place where these ladies are always cooking and trying to grab you with their offers for the day.
Soup is very common in the menu. Also, stewed of fried os broiled meats with different ingredients. It often happens that visitors to Bolivia are unaware of the importance of the food, and how good it can be. And they just go for the 'safe' food, including hamburgers of well known brands.
However, I did notice that there are less restaurants in La Paz for traditional food now, or that it may not be so easy to find one, specially at night. And there are too many places offering fast food, including suspicious pizza slices and fried chicken, 'pollo a la broaster'. Ok,. it may be far better than fried chicken in the U.S. or elsewhere, but still...
Some of the highlights of the Bolivian food to be found in La Paz and, yes!, Cochabamba:
- 'Picantes', or just 'hot food'. Different meats cooked in hot sauce, served with dried potatoes (chuño), tomato and onions and potatoes. The secret is in the sauce and the mixture of flavours. I remember some years ago when my grandfather José Luis invited me to eat a Picante Mixto. After the first mouthful, my eyes were filled by tears. He said that after the third one it would get much better. This was so true.
- Chicharrón. Or, fried pork meat. But this is the part that has the skin attached to the meat. In La Paz you can find 'chicharronerías' and whatever you may think, they are good. There is obviouslly a technique that makes it so good and, in a sense, light (believe it or not). They also say that because of the altitude, pork meat is good, less greasy. You can try it as 'lechón asado', roasted pork, served here with corn, baked plantain, sweet potato and normal potato.
- Llajua. This is the hot sauce that you get in a small dish in every table. It is made with tomatoes. And the heat comes from an Andean chili pepper called Locoto in Bolivia, or Rocoto in Perú. There are lots of different chili peppers in Bolivia, but the Locoto is the king. But this Llajua has another, secret, misterous, wonderful ingredient: the Quirquiña. This is an amazing herb, with a unique flavour and a fantastic bouquet. It is so charcteristic, that it cannot be mistaken. I never found it outside Bolivia.
- Roasted lamb. All kinds.
- Cochabamba dishes with suggestive names as Sillpancho or Lapping. Or the spicy ground meat called Saice, but I am not sure about its origin.
- And then the 'Salteñas', the local version of the 'empanada', which is often translated as 'pie', but it is not really a 'pie'. In many Latin American countries people seem to have their own version of the empanadas. But for those who have tried several kinds, the Bolivian salteña is at the top of the list. And La Paz is the place where you find them everywhere. This is a midmorning food. By 12, there are no more salteñas. Usually spicy, they are filled with a stew that has meat and potatoes. It is very tasty, and covered by a dough that has some kind of sweetness as a quality. At 10 or 11 am you go around plaza Avaroa in the neighborhood of Sopocachi in la Paz, and will find it full of groups of people gathered around salteña vendors.
There is more, there is always more. But I am writing this from Lima already. The trip to Bolivia had amazing moments. On my last day there, I went to Sopocachi, to the house in Cervantes Street 2970 where we lived with my grandmother. I was 9-10 years old. Of course, everything seems to be smaller now, the square where we played, the 'huge' mountains where we did some trekking. At that time the Bolivian episode ended when the Government was overthrown, and we had to leave.
(Luis Córdova, from Lima)
El Alto was built as a suburb of La Paz (+ - 3,700 meters), a city lying in a valley that looks like a hole when seen from the market. But this was also the fastest growing urban settlement in the world, and now the suburb is a big city in itself, with more people living there than in La Paz, according to some recent data. It looks like a half finished city, full of buildings made of raw brick walls and dirt roads all over. However it is full of life, and also full of small buses for transportation that constitute a plague.
Built around the La Paz airport, El Alto is windy and cold. And the sun also hits hard. 'This sun burns, but it is not warm', said one fellow client at a small street cafeteria while we drank coca leaves tea in order to fight the effects of the altitude. This was in the middle of the market, and I was lost. It is said that there are around 18,000 registered sellers in this 'Feria', plus so many other people unregistered. Of course you can find many things, from a lamb head to be cooked in the grill, to a Japanese second hand car in very good shape.
My trip to the Feria 16 de julio started very early. And it took some hours to walk around, very slowly. There are, of course, a set of secret rules governing the market. Or, at least, secret for an outsider like me. My favorite place was on the edge of the market, on Riles street, the area of a very intense flea market full of used goods of a very diverse nature. When you look down from this part of the market, La Paz is there in a valley. And when you look up, to the other side of the sky, the Andes mountains, covered by glaciers. For the people of the market, who live in El Alto, this breathtaking view is what they see everyday. No one else seems to be impressed.
The existence of such a huge street market in El Alto is only natural in a city that is growing so fast in this part of the world. Street markets are a part of life in the highlands of Bolivia. In small towns and cities, it is very common to see people trading goods, or eating. And one of the best examples is La Paz.
There is a favorite walk in La Paz, a city where streets seem to be going up, and up, and up, while the lungs cry for air. On any Saturday turn from the main avenue of El Prado looking for Rodríguez street, and from there just go ahead, finding one market after the other. They have different names, but in real life it looks like it was only one, huge market place. Always organized. Food that way, traditional clothes used by Aymara women,.including the hats, that other way. Furniture over there, meat around the corner, tools one block farther, smuggled clothes and shoes somewhere else, and electronics in an amazing place called 'Miamicito'.
But markets mean also food. And they care a lot about food in this parts of Bolivia. There is a traditional way of cooking, often the meals have indigenous names, and around the market areas there are people eating everywhere, at all times. It is full of street eateries, where people just seat in improvised restaurants. Covered markets always have a special place where these ladies are always cooking and trying to grab you with their offers for the day.
Soup is very common in the menu. Also, stewed of fried os broiled meats with different ingredients. It often happens that visitors to Bolivia are unaware of the importance of the food, and how good it can be. And they just go for the 'safe' food, including hamburgers of well known brands.
However, I did notice that there are less restaurants in La Paz for traditional food now, or that it may not be so easy to find one, specially at night. And there are too many places offering fast food, including suspicious pizza slices and fried chicken, 'pollo a la broaster'. Ok,. it may be far better than fried chicken in the U.S. or elsewhere, but still...
Some of the highlights of the Bolivian food to be found in La Paz and, yes!, Cochabamba:
- 'Picantes', or just 'hot food'. Different meats cooked in hot sauce, served with dried potatoes (chuño), tomato and onions and potatoes. The secret is in the sauce and the mixture of flavours. I remember some years ago when my grandfather José Luis invited me to eat a Picante Mixto. After the first mouthful, my eyes were filled by tears. He said that after the third one it would get much better. This was so true.
- Chicharrón. Or, fried pork meat. But this is the part that has the skin attached to the meat. In La Paz you can find 'chicharronerías' and whatever you may think, they are good. There is obviouslly a technique that makes it so good and, in a sense, light (believe it or not). They also say that because of the altitude, pork meat is good, less greasy. You can try it as 'lechón asado', roasted pork, served here with corn, baked plantain, sweet potato and normal potato.
- Llajua. This is the hot sauce that you get in a small dish in every table. It is made with tomatoes. And the heat comes from an Andean chili pepper called Locoto in Bolivia, or Rocoto in Perú. There are lots of different chili peppers in Bolivia, but the Locoto is the king. But this Llajua has another, secret, misterous, wonderful ingredient: the Quirquiña. This is an amazing herb, with a unique flavour and a fantastic bouquet. It is so charcteristic, that it cannot be mistaken. I never found it outside Bolivia.
- Roasted lamb. All kinds.
- Cochabamba dishes with suggestive names as Sillpancho or Lapping. Or the spicy ground meat called Saice, but I am not sure about its origin.
- And then the 'Salteñas', the local version of the 'empanada', which is often translated as 'pie', but it is not really a 'pie'. In many Latin American countries people seem to have their own version of the empanadas. But for those who have tried several kinds, the Bolivian salteña is at the top of the list. And La Paz is the place where you find them everywhere. This is a midmorning food. By 12, there are no more salteñas. Usually spicy, they are filled with a stew that has meat and potatoes. It is very tasty, and covered by a dough that has some kind of sweetness as a quality. At 10 or 11 am you go around plaza Avaroa in the neighborhood of Sopocachi in la Paz, and will find it full of groups of people gathered around salteña vendors.
There is more, there is always more. But I am writing this from Lima already. The trip to Bolivia had amazing moments. On my last day there, I went to Sopocachi, to the house in Cervantes Street 2970 where we lived with my grandmother. I was 9-10 years old. Of course, everything seems to be smaller now, the square where we played, the 'huge' mountains where we did some trekking. At that time the Bolivian episode ended when the Government was overthrown, and we had to leave.
(Luis Córdova, from Lima)
Saturday, April 5, 2008
High times
The bus left Cochabamba, in the middle of Bolivia, and went up for a long time until it reached the high plateau, the 'altiplano', and finally was on the road to La Paz. Now I have been in this city for 24 hours, getting used to live at 3,800 meters, wandering around the markets, and dealing with so many memories. And also, with very thin and dry air.
There is not much to say about Cochabamba. It is a pleasant city, growing fast. There were quite a few political protests when I was there. It rained all the time. The most remarkable experience: the visit to 'La Cancha' market, an impressive place were many products and services are to be found, from tailors that can make you a suit, to ladies frying fish that has just arrived from the jungle. And of course, the potato sellers, because there are so many varieties, specially now that the crops are being collected.
This Friday morning I took a bus under the rain. Most of the road to La Paz goes through the high plateau. It was quite green because of the rain. But you can always see other colors there: those of the women using colorful colthes, and those of the quinoa plants, that 'sacred' bran, truly fantastic, with colors that go from green to red.
Almost at the end of the road, the bus crosses the city of 'El Alto' (+-4,100 meters), considered one of the fastest growing human settlements in the world (if not the fastest). I used to be a satellite city for La Paz, but now is a city in itself. Very peculiar. The color of raw bricks is the main feature here, and many streets are not paved, so it looks as if it was not finished yet. However, the traffic is a nigthmare.
Then you see La Paz. The feeling is that this city is in a hole, when you look at it from El Alto. On the other side of the hole, the huge mountains of the Andes, and manily mount Illimani, beautiful, white, impossible to imagine this city without it.
I have lived or visited La Paz in the past. Part of my family is from here. So it is not a foreign land. But when you start climbing the steep streets in the back of the church of San Francisco on a Saturday, grasping for air, and finding one market after the other, full of colours, and life, and noise, and people, and the smells of food, and even a witchcraft market, and blue skies, and thin air, and the sound of the flutes of the Andes coming from somewhere, and traditional dresses, and travelers coming from so many different places of the world, and the mount Illimani in the back, it sure looks like another planet. However, it is easy to get used to it.
There is a plan: tomorrow I will take a bus to 'El Alto' in order to visit what is said to be the biggest open air market on this part of the planet, the 'Feria 16 de julio'.
(Luis Córdova from La Paz. Trivia: This is not the capital of Bolivia)
There is not much to say about Cochabamba. It is a pleasant city, growing fast. There were quite a few political protests when I was there. It rained all the time. The most remarkable experience: the visit to 'La Cancha' market, an impressive place were many products and services are to be found, from tailors that can make you a suit, to ladies frying fish that has just arrived from the jungle. And of course, the potato sellers, because there are so many varieties, specially now that the crops are being collected.
This Friday morning I took a bus under the rain. Most of the road to La Paz goes through the high plateau. It was quite green because of the rain. But you can always see other colors there: those of the women using colorful colthes, and those of the quinoa plants, that 'sacred' bran, truly fantastic, with colors that go from green to red.
Almost at the end of the road, the bus crosses the city of 'El Alto' (+-4,100 meters), considered one of the fastest growing human settlements in the world (if not the fastest). I used to be a satellite city for La Paz, but now is a city in itself. Very peculiar. The color of raw bricks is the main feature here, and many streets are not paved, so it looks as if it was not finished yet. However, the traffic is a nigthmare.
Then you see La Paz. The feeling is that this city is in a hole, when you look at it from El Alto. On the other side of the hole, the huge mountains of the Andes, and manily mount Illimani, beautiful, white, impossible to imagine this city without it.
I have lived or visited La Paz in the past. Part of my family is from here. So it is not a foreign land. But when you start climbing the steep streets in the back of the church of San Francisco on a Saturday, grasping for air, and finding one market after the other, full of colours, and life, and noise, and people, and the smells of food, and even a witchcraft market, and blue skies, and thin air, and the sound of the flutes of the Andes coming from somewhere, and traditional dresses, and travelers coming from so many different places of the world, and the mount Illimani in the back, it sure looks like another planet. However, it is easy to get used to it.
There is a plan: tomorrow I will take a bus to 'El Alto' in order to visit what is said to be the biggest open air market on this part of the planet, the 'Feria 16 de julio'.
(Luis Córdova from La Paz. Trivia: This is not the capital of Bolivia)
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Twilight in the tropical forest
It is kind of strange to be somewhere else, after two weeks into the tropical forest region of Eastern Bolivia. To think that only two nights ago the bus I was riding over there stopped in the middle of nowhere, the night was falling and a huge truck full of cattle was stuck in the mud ahead of us. When we, the passengers, came out to walk around the dirt road while waiting for a solution, some things happened: First, we were eaten by mosquitoes, always there at dusk; Then, the mosquitoes were eaten by hundreds of cruel dragonflies... I mean hundreds or maybe thousands flying around our heads but not touching us; After that, a very heavy electric storm could be heard in the distance and the lightning could be seen in the horizon, one every 3 seconds more or less, it looked like a horrible war being fought somewhere else; It was finally getting dark, and suddenly all around us was full of lights coming from glow-worms (Is that the right word for the insect with a light? In Spanish we have a beautiful word: luciérnaga); Until it was completely dark, in the middle of the jungle, and the sky was... so full of stars, all over, and the cloud of the Milky Way could be seen, and the Southern Cross... Well, couldn't ask for a better night for the star gazer. And, some people may know, I lose a lot of time looking at the stars.
Finally the truck was pushed and taken away, and our bus kept going to the town of Concepción. It took 9 hours for 185 kilometers. That's the way it is around those places, time and space don't work the same.
That was almost at the end of the two week trip that took me deep into the forest, close to amazing mountain ranges, to very old churches built by Jesuit priests in the 18 century, to the discovery of baroque music in the middle of these jungles, to endless rides in bus and train, to see amazing starry nights, to meet incredible people who live and work here, and to a state of mind and soul and heart where, I think, it was possible to think about the future again. Then it is also true that I got sick (stomach, because I ate misterious food without the usual beer, in my opinion), and got well again. Visited markets, walked around beautiful towns, sometimes under burning sun, sometimes in the middle of the night. And I climbed a magic plateau!
I am writing this from the city of Cochabamba, in the middle of Bolivia. Here the tropical forests have already dissappeared, and now the trip is going up into the Andes. And up it goes, really.
There are two reasons to stop here in my trip to La Paz. One, is to get used to high places. Cochabamba is 2,800 meters, quite high, but still 1,000 under La Paz. The second one is to go to what may be the biggest market of the region, and one of the most amazing of the world, "La Cancha".
Why go to a market? To talk to people, get information about ingredients, recipes, and take pictures. Did I mention that very soon there will be a new blog a bout food and cooking? Well, now I will just have to do it.
(Luis Cordova in Cochabamba, hoping to adapt quickly to the 2,800 meters)
Finally the truck was pushed and taken away, and our bus kept going to the town of Concepción. It took 9 hours for 185 kilometers. That's the way it is around those places, time and space don't work the same.
That was almost at the end of the two week trip that took me deep into the forest, close to amazing mountain ranges, to very old churches built by Jesuit priests in the 18 century, to the discovery of baroque music in the middle of these jungles, to endless rides in bus and train, to see amazing starry nights, to meet incredible people who live and work here, and to a state of mind and soul and heart where, I think, it was possible to think about the future again. Then it is also true that I got sick (stomach, because I ate misterious food without the usual beer, in my opinion), and got well again. Visited markets, walked around beautiful towns, sometimes under burning sun, sometimes in the middle of the night. And I climbed a magic plateau!
I am writing this from the city of Cochabamba, in the middle of Bolivia. Here the tropical forests have already dissappeared, and now the trip is going up into the Andes. And up it goes, really.
There are two reasons to stop here in my trip to La Paz. One, is to get used to high places. Cochabamba is 2,800 meters, quite high, but still 1,000 under La Paz. The second one is to go to what may be the biggest market of the region, and one of the most amazing of the world, "La Cancha".
Why go to a market? To talk to people, get information about ingredients, recipes, and take pictures. Did I mention that very soon there will be a new blog a bout food and cooking? Well, now I will just have to do it.
(Luis Cordova in Cochabamba, hoping to adapt quickly to the 2,800 meters)
Monday, March 31, 2008
Finding the lost composer
In the back of the church of Concepción, a town in the Eastern part of Bolivia, a group of people work everyday restoring musical scores copied by Jesuit priests some 300 years ago, that are part of a precious archive. And it was among those pieces of old documents, saved by chance, that a lost Italian composer, Domenico Zípoli, was to be found again. And even if he was born in the Tuscan city of Prato, far away from here, and in reality he never was here, his name is now closely linked to the sound of music in this tropical forests.
Most of the scores were found by Swiss architect Hans Roth (1934-1999), who fought against reality to restore or rebuild the Jesuit churches. Many of those musical scores were burned, or used as toilette paper, after the Jesuits were sent back to Europe in 1767. Some were found in Santiago, some in San Miguel, some in Santa Ana (see previous posts). There are more than 3,000 musical scores.
And the creation of a real musical archive was also hard work, but now it is the base for an internationally known Baroque Music Festival of the Chiquitos Missions that will be held again this month of May in the restored churches. Musical groups coming from several parts of the world have been requested to include in their concerts at least one piece taken from this archive.
"Most of what we are doing now is from anonymous composers", said Anton, a specialist from Spain whom I met this morning in Concepción, who is now working in the restoration of the scores. It is really impressive to see those very old documents, the leather covers. Now they are stick to special paper free of acid and catalogued and carefully placed in folders.
The Archive is now in the church, and it is taken care of as the most important musical legacy from the Jesuit missions in America.
Well, that's a lot of improvement. In 1988, the first time I visited Concepción, Roth showed me a very basic metallic filing cabinet, with the musical scores in manila folders. He mentioned then that he was trying to collect money so the scores could be saved, and the resources eventually came, many specialists have been involved in the rescue and the promotion of the catalogue. Then, Roth told me about Zipoli.
About how music researchers were wondering of his travel to the 'new world', and if he had composed here. Or if the Italian composer was the same Jesuit priest to be found in some old lists of people making the trip to America. Some data came up, here and there. A Zípoli had died in the Argentine city of Córdoba, around the middle of the 18 century. But then Roth found the name in the sores he had been saving in Bolivia, and eventually shared this with Francisco Curt Lange, a well known specialist, who confirmed that the lost composer had been found.
Zípoli was born in Prato en 1688, and played the organ. He studied music with some celebrities of those baroque times in Italy, some even mention A. Scarlatti. And he composed a fantastic music for organ, the Sonata de Intavolatura. But suddenly he disappeared from the musical scene of Rome and became a Jesuit, and went all the way to Córdoba.
Why? Nobody knows, altough some are playing with the thesis that he went away from a hopeless love. And they mention princess Strozzi, since he dedicated to her his famous sonata.
Well, the discovery of the musical scores in the missions of Bolivia was relevant. This is the only Italian baroque composer whit a musical work in America.
And a few years after his death, the musical scores were copied in Córdoba by Jesuits who were in the middle of a very long trip to the missions of Bolivia.
The Archive has a lot more, of course. There are quite a few scores by Corelli (copied by the priests), a Vivaldi and some Locatelli, among some other Italians. But it is also very important to consider the anonymous scores, and others signed by the priests, specially one named Martin Schmidt. Baroque music, simple, adapted, but still composed in the middle of tropical forests where even today is kind of hard to go.
Now in the 'missional' towns of Chiquitos, as this Bolivian region is known, there are orchestras, instruments are being made by local artisans. That way, the music is back. And quite often, they play Zípoli.
Most of the scores were found by Swiss architect Hans Roth (1934-1999), who fought against reality to restore or rebuild the Jesuit churches. Many of those musical scores were burned, or used as toilette paper, after the Jesuits were sent back to Europe in 1767. Some were found in Santiago, some in San Miguel, some in Santa Ana (see previous posts). There are more than 3,000 musical scores.
And the creation of a real musical archive was also hard work, but now it is the base for an internationally known Baroque Music Festival of the Chiquitos Missions that will be held again this month of May in the restored churches. Musical groups coming from several parts of the world have been requested to include in their concerts at least one piece taken from this archive.
"Most of what we are doing now is from anonymous composers", said Anton, a specialist from Spain whom I met this morning in Concepción, who is now working in the restoration of the scores. It is really impressive to see those very old documents, the leather covers. Now they are stick to special paper free of acid and catalogued and carefully placed in folders.
The Archive is now in the church, and it is taken care of as the most important musical legacy from the Jesuit missions in America.
Well, that's a lot of improvement. In 1988, the first time I visited Concepción, Roth showed me a very basic metallic filing cabinet, with the musical scores in manila folders. He mentioned then that he was trying to collect money so the scores could be saved, and the resources eventually came, many specialists have been involved in the rescue and the promotion of the catalogue. Then, Roth told me about Zipoli.
About how music researchers were wondering of his travel to the 'new world', and if he had composed here. Or if the Italian composer was the same Jesuit priest to be found in some old lists of people making the trip to America. Some data came up, here and there. A Zípoli had died in the Argentine city of Córdoba, around the middle of the 18 century. But then Roth found the name in the sores he had been saving in Bolivia, and eventually shared this with Francisco Curt Lange, a well known specialist, who confirmed that the lost composer had been found.
Zípoli was born in Prato en 1688, and played the organ. He studied music with some celebrities of those baroque times in Italy, some even mention A. Scarlatti. And he composed a fantastic music for organ, the Sonata de Intavolatura. But suddenly he disappeared from the musical scene of Rome and became a Jesuit, and went all the way to Córdoba.
Why? Nobody knows, altough some are playing with the thesis that he went away from a hopeless love. And they mention princess Strozzi, since he dedicated to her his famous sonata.
Well, the discovery of the musical scores in the missions of Bolivia was relevant. This is the only Italian baroque composer whit a musical work in America.
And a few years after his death, the musical scores were copied in Córdoba by Jesuits who were in the middle of a very long trip to the missions of Bolivia.
The Archive has a lot more, of course. There are quite a few scores by Corelli (copied by the priests), a Vivaldi and some Locatelli, among some other Italians. But it is also very important to consider the anonymous scores, and others signed by the priests, specially one named Martin Schmidt. Baroque music, simple, adapted, but still composed in the middle of tropical forests where even today is kind of hard to go.
Now in the 'missional' towns of Chiquitos, as this Bolivian region is known, there are orchestras, instruments are being made by local artisans. That way, the music is back. And quite often, they play Zípoli.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Photos!!
At last. You can see the first set of photos taken during this trip to the tropical forest and Jesuit missions in the Eastern part of Bolivia. Just click http://www.flickr.com/photos/luiscor/
Friday, March 28, 2008
Storm
It is raining in the Bolivian town of San Ignacio de Velasco, and 'it looks like it's raining all over the world'. But this whas really an electric storm, with lightning and thunder, and not much to do so I decided to spend some time alone in the Jesuit church built here in the middle of the tropical forest, listening to the water and all the other sounds. Now, that was a religious experience.
Beign a known atheist and sometimes a pagan, my religious experience is only linked to my reverence for the inner forces of this planet, and I kind of like humankind. Where others see god, I only see fantastic buildings made by humans, and an incredible storm that shows nature unbound.
Alone there, it was impressive to see how the lightning reflected inside the empty church. But it would have been enough with the sound of water falling. A few people eventually came in to pray. All of them were Chiquitano indians. One very old man was praying in Chiquitano, a legacy from the time of the Jesuit missions nearly 300 years ago.
Then the wind started blowing inside the church, while it was possible to hear a very long, almost endless thunder, somewhere, out there over the jungle. And being there alone, the mind empty. Poetic.
But now I am writing this in the Internet Point, and the rain keeps falling. And I start to wonder if this means that tomorrow there will be no way out of this town connected by dirt roads only. Well, then I will just havce to stay here one more day.
(Luis Cordova en San Ignacio de Velasco, al comienzo de la noche)
Beign a known atheist and sometimes a pagan, my religious experience is only linked to my reverence for the inner forces of this planet, and I kind of like humankind. Where others see god, I only see fantastic buildings made by humans, and an incredible storm that shows nature unbound.
Alone there, it was impressive to see how the lightning reflected inside the empty church. But it would have been enough with the sound of water falling. A few people eventually came in to pray. All of them were Chiquitano indians. One very old man was praying in Chiquitano, a legacy from the time of the Jesuit missions nearly 300 years ago.
Then the wind started blowing inside the church, while it was possible to hear a very long, almost endless thunder, somewhere, out there over the jungle. And being there alone, the mind empty. Poetic.
But now I am writing this in the Internet Point, and the rain keeps falling. And I start to wonder if this means that tomorrow there will be no way out of this town connected by dirt roads only. Well, then I will just havce to stay here one more day.
(Luis Cordova en San Ignacio de Velasco, al comienzo de la noche)
Utopia in the tropical forest
The town of San Miguel was melting under the sun, but inside the church it was fresh, almost unreal. It is like being in a fantastic cave, full of saints, an altar covered with gold leaf, curious paintings over the white walls and, in a small sign, a name: Martin Schmidt, architect and musician, Jesuit, who came to the Bolivian tropical forest nearly 300 years ago with a mission in his mind.
That mission, it has been said many times, was to 'save' the souls of indigenous people, and to show them the 'real' god. In any case Schmidt believed so strongly in what he was doing that he left the place where he was born, Baar, in Switzerland, and engaged in a long and also very dangerous trip. Of course, many Jesuits did the same. But this man made a difference: he built incredible churches, he produced violins, cellos and organs in the middle of the jungle, and
also became a composer and a teacher.
In those times the trip started in the south of Spain, then Buenos Aires, and later Córdoba. It was in Córdoba that Schmidt and maybe some other Jesuits too copied the musical scores that they brought to this region, crossing mountains, cold plateaus and jungles. It is well known that Schmidt also had musical instruments, including an organ that he carried all the way from the city of Potosí.
In this eastern part of Bolivia the Jesuits had around 7 'reductions' or missions. For those who haven't heard the story, they organized the indigeouns people, mainly from the Chiquitano ethnic group, in communities were all worked for the common good. Of course, religion was all over. For the indigenous people it was also a way to defend themselves from slavery by Portuguese or Spanish settlers. The official language was the Chiquitano, not Spanish, and the social and urban model was so efficient, that it lasted centuries.In 1767 the Spanish crown expelled the Jesuits from America, and the experiment ended. But not the consequences. Schmidt wanted to stay and die in the jungle. However, he was forced to go.
But before that, he had been a key figure in the musical development of the region. Schmidt learned how to build violins, organs and other instruments, and in every mission they played music, even baroque music from Europe, and there were also some local composers. Many years later, violins still sounded here. And now, with the recovery of the Jesuit adventure, the baroque music is back.
But that was not all. Schmidt was comissioned with a giant task: build a church in San Rafael. Then, he was the architect, hundreds of workers committed to the task. And then he built 2 other churches, and participated in the design of others.The result is here in the 'Jesuit circuit' in this region of Chiquitos in the jungles of eastern Bolivia. The towns are there and preserve the original design and in the plaza usually stands the huge church, beautiful from outside, amazing
inside. The project to rebuild or restore this buildings since the 1970s was headed, by the way, by another Swiss architect, Hans Roth, a missionary in his own way.
It was Roth who found out about the musical scores in Santiago de Chiquitos and in San Miguel. And magic was still woking because he found there the name of a composer, Domenico Zípoli, an Italian from Prato who had been famous in his own country and who died in Córdoba, but that's another story.
The adventure of Schmidt in the tropical forests, as it has been said, ended late the year of 1767 when the Spanish soldiers arrived to take him and other priests back to Europe. He recalls in one of his letters that the people from the missions wanted to resist and kill the soldiers. Well, it didn't happen. It would have been a good story for a movie, for sure.
(Luis Cordova, thinking about utopias in San Ignacio de Velasco).
That mission, it has been said many times, was to 'save' the souls of indigenous people, and to show them the 'real' god. In any case Schmidt believed so strongly in what he was doing that he left the place where he was born, Baar, in Switzerland, and engaged in a long and also very dangerous trip. Of course, many Jesuits did the same. But this man made a difference: he built incredible churches, he produced violins, cellos and organs in the middle of the jungle, and
also became a composer and a teacher.
In those times the trip started in the south of Spain, then Buenos Aires, and later Córdoba. It was in Córdoba that Schmidt and maybe some other Jesuits too copied the musical scores that they brought to this region, crossing mountains, cold plateaus and jungles. It is well known that Schmidt also had musical instruments, including an organ that he carried all the way from the city of Potosí.
In this eastern part of Bolivia the Jesuits had around 7 'reductions' or missions. For those who haven't heard the story, they organized the indigeouns people, mainly from the Chiquitano ethnic group, in communities were all worked for the common good. Of course, religion was all over. For the indigenous people it was also a way to defend themselves from slavery by Portuguese or Spanish settlers. The official language was the Chiquitano, not Spanish, and the social and urban model was so efficient, that it lasted centuries.In 1767 the Spanish crown expelled the Jesuits from America, and the experiment ended. But not the consequences. Schmidt wanted to stay and die in the jungle. However, he was forced to go.
But before that, he had been a key figure in the musical development of the region. Schmidt learned how to build violins, organs and other instruments, and in every mission they played music, even baroque music from Europe, and there were also some local composers. Many years later, violins still sounded here. And now, with the recovery of the Jesuit adventure, the baroque music is back.
But that was not all. Schmidt was comissioned with a giant task: build a church in San Rafael. Then, he was the architect, hundreds of workers committed to the task. And then he built 2 other churches, and participated in the design of others.The result is here in the 'Jesuit circuit' in this region of Chiquitos in the jungles of eastern Bolivia. The towns are there and preserve the original design and in the plaza usually stands the huge church, beautiful from outside, amazing
inside. The project to rebuild or restore this buildings since the 1970s was headed, by the way, by another Swiss architect, Hans Roth, a missionary in his own way.
It was Roth who found out about the musical scores in Santiago de Chiquitos and in San Miguel. And magic was still woking because he found there the name of a composer, Domenico Zípoli, an Italian from Prato who had been famous in his own country and who died in Córdoba, but that's another story.
The adventure of Schmidt in the tropical forests, as it has been said, ended late the year of 1767 when the Spanish soldiers arrived to take him and other priests back to Europe. He recalls in one of his letters that the people from the missions wanted to resist and kill the soldiers. Well, it didn't happen. It would have been a good story for a movie, for sure.
(Luis Cordova, thinking about utopias in San Ignacio de Velasco).
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Development, and a sad story
The road from Roboré to San José in the eastern part of Bolivia, has a very strange quality for the region: it is paved. The bus goes fast, the tropical forest is like a green wall all around, and there are mountains with incredible shapes. People getting in and off in the most incredible stops. Sometimes all you see is a path, going deep into the trees.
"Are you going to San José?" asks the man who is seated behind me, I will call him Don Manuel. "Very bad things are happening there", he added.
So, we started a conversation and this was the story:
"We are chasing a band of killers in San José. They came one afternoon to a cattle farm near the town of Taperas and killed the manager of the place and the tractor driver. And we are hunting them, that's why I am going."
"Are you a policeman?"
"No, but the driver was my son, and they killed him, my son, only 3 days ago. This never happened around here. It is quiet here."
He certainly didn't look like a man hunter. His face was gentle and soft, but his eyes were full of rage. "If I don't go the police won't do anything, and I need to do it, it's the only thing that can be done now." All the new passengers asked him how he was, did he had news, and so, until a lady said: "I heard it in the radio, they got the killer's girlfriend last night, they are going to catch him Manuel."
The bus arrived to San José. I have already mentioned that this town is dusty and dirty these days. Is it because there is a lot of economic development? Population has grown, a lot, there are foreigners everywhere, and the city as a whole looks like it is growing in disorder and chaos. Gold mining, road building, timber...
So this morning, very early, I took a bus to San Rafael. The Jesuit church here is quite interesting, because it has been only restored from the original, and not rebuilt. All the paintings in the walls were hidden under the white used by the priests for centuries. One of the paintings depicts a baroque group. And the saints inside this church built around 1754 have very expressive faces. This was the first town created in this region of Chiquitos by the Jesuits in 1696.
But the sun was punishing San Rafael so hard. And again, economic progress, in this case driven mainly by timber (I wonder how many trees they cut everyday, but surely you have heard about the 'precious' wood from Bolivia, used for floors and furniture very far from here), is leaving a mark here. The town seems to be losing the chacarcteristic look of the small urban settlements around here, and is growing fast. It was also dusty and dirty.
So, soon enough, another bus came. Taking a bus is not just like taking a bus. It takes time to find out if the route is served, where do these buses stop, when, how long it takes. Then it works, and it seems like a miracle. But everything is like a miracle when you are so far.
Arriving to the gentle town of San Ignacio also seemed like a miracle. A very nice place to live, as many have already found out, with a beautiful church, a lagoon, a plaza full of amazing trees, and several blocks of traditional buildings that make you dream of another time and space.
(Luis Córdova from San Ignacio de Velasco. After several days, a good internet connection)
"Are you going to San José?" asks the man who is seated behind me, I will call him Don Manuel. "Very bad things are happening there", he added.
So, we started a conversation and this was the story:
"We are chasing a band of killers in San José. They came one afternoon to a cattle farm near the town of Taperas and killed the manager of the place and the tractor driver. And we are hunting them, that's why I am going."
"Are you a policeman?"
"No, but the driver was my son, and they killed him, my son, only 3 days ago. This never happened around here. It is quiet here."
He certainly didn't look like a man hunter. His face was gentle and soft, but his eyes were full of rage. "If I don't go the police won't do anything, and I need to do it, it's the only thing that can be done now." All the new passengers asked him how he was, did he had news, and so, until a lady said: "I heard it in the radio, they got the killer's girlfriend last night, they are going to catch him Manuel."
The bus arrived to San José. I have already mentioned that this town is dusty and dirty these days. Is it because there is a lot of economic development? Population has grown, a lot, there are foreigners everywhere, and the city as a whole looks like it is growing in disorder and chaos. Gold mining, road building, timber...
So this morning, very early, I took a bus to San Rafael. The Jesuit church here is quite interesting, because it has been only restored from the original, and not rebuilt. All the paintings in the walls were hidden under the white used by the priests for centuries. One of the paintings depicts a baroque group. And the saints inside this church built around 1754 have very expressive faces. This was the first town created in this region of Chiquitos by the Jesuits in 1696.
But the sun was punishing San Rafael so hard. And again, economic progress, in this case driven mainly by timber (I wonder how many trees they cut everyday, but surely you have heard about the 'precious' wood from Bolivia, used for floors and furniture very far from here), is leaving a mark here. The town seems to be losing the chacarcteristic look of the small urban settlements around here, and is growing fast. It was also dusty and dirty.
So, soon enough, another bus came. Taking a bus is not just like taking a bus. It takes time to find out if the route is served, where do these buses stop, when, how long it takes. Then it works, and it seems like a miracle. But everything is like a miracle when you are so far.
Arriving to the gentle town of San Ignacio also seemed like a miracle. A very nice place to live, as many have already found out, with a beautiful church, a lagoon, a plaza full of amazing trees, and several blocks of traditional buildings that make you dream of another time and space.
(Luis Córdova from San Ignacio de Velasco. After several days, a good internet connection)
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Once upon a time
The old train was quite slow: 400 kilometers in 12 hours. But there was no choice and, besides, the full moon whitened the sky that night and the tropical forest of Bolivia looked like a surrealist paint, full of twisted shadows. And at the very end of the road the beautiful village of Santiago de Chiquitos was to be found, and the amazing plateau that surrounds it. A place where, at last, one can feel free to dream again.
In the middle of the night, the train arrived to Roboré. In the train a fellow passenger said: that place is hot. And hot it was, at 9 am, and even worse later. Dusty too, and not too welcoming. Maybe it was the heat, or the lack of a decent place to eat or sleep, or the presence of so many soldiers. By noon I needed to get out.
After all, I was lucky. I got a ride to Santiago de Chiquitos, some 20 kilometers ahead, with the owner of the best hotel in the region, the Beule. The dirt road ended in a bautiful plaza, surrounded by very nice houses. This was the first stop of the 'Jesuit circuit' in this region of Bolivia.
The church is not very special here. But the nature is amazing. The village background is an amazing 'sierra' or very sharp mountain range, and an endless sea of green trees called 'bosque tropical chiquitano'. And this place is so far from everywhere, without internet or mobile phones. A very nice place to get lost, by the way. Or to find yourself.
The priest is an Italian from Bolzano, Eusebio Pircher, who came here 50 years ago. He confirmed that in the 1980's one of the priests, while cleaning the church, burned a trunk full of music scores brought by the Jesuits in the 17 and 18 centuries, and forgotten after they were expelled from America in 1767. And that some of those were saved by a carpenter from Santiago, José Suarez, who used to live right around the corner from the church. That was one of the first clues of what is now known as the Archivo Musical de las Misiones Jesuitas de Chiquitos, an international treasure.
Last Sunday, a small orchestra (violins and cellos) and a chorus of children from Santiago, conducted by a US menonite woman that went there as a volunteer, played in the church of Santiago de Chiquitos 5 baroque pieces composed in the Bolivian tropical forest some 300 years ago. No one knows who the authors were. The lyrics of one of the songs was in Chiquitano, the indigenous language.
Eusebio also told me that I should go to the top of the plateau, that seemed to be far, and high. But it was done, and it was an amazing experience. The plateau is like an island in the sky. A Brazilian friend I made there over a few 'Paceña' beers, who was searching for minerals, said that those formations had risen to the sky. Well, you can imagine the inmense forces behind all this changes. Worse than climate change, for sure.
The top of the plateau if full of amazing rock formations. It is like being in another planet. Or, really, like walking on top of an island in the middle of a green ocean. Not much else can be said. Soul, heart and mind were much better when I came back to Santiago and sat in the plaza to watch the stars and the milky way.
It was hard to leave that place . And it is even harder not to think that I should go back there. But this internet connection was found some 5 hours of travel later, in San José de Chiquitos, which is a bit far. There is a contrast: this town of San José has a lot of economic activity, but it is dirty, dusty, hot and the green seems to be far, even if you know that if you walk 5 blocks you are already in the tropical forest.
But, there is an amazing church here, made of stone. This is the first amazing one in the 'Jesuit circuit'. One of the most important features: the little angel heads hanging inside the place. They are a bit 'evil', in my opinion.
(Luis Cordova, in San Josè de Chiquitos, Bolivia, waiting for a bus to San Ignacio de Velasco)
In the middle of the night, the train arrived to Roboré. In the train a fellow passenger said: that place is hot. And hot it was, at 9 am, and even worse later. Dusty too, and not too welcoming. Maybe it was the heat, or the lack of a decent place to eat or sleep, or the presence of so many soldiers. By noon I needed to get out.
After all, I was lucky. I got a ride to Santiago de Chiquitos, some 20 kilometers ahead, with the owner of the best hotel in the region, the Beule. The dirt road ended in a bautiful plaza, surrounded by very nice houses. This was the first stop of the 'Jesuit circuit' in this region of Bolivia.
The church is not very special here. But the nature is amazing. The village background is an amazing 'sierra' or very sharp mountain range, and an endless sea of green trees called 'bosque tropical chiquitano'. And this place is so far from everywhere, without internet or mobile phones. A very nice place to get lost, by the way. Or to find yourself.
The priest is an Italian from Bolzano, Eusebio Pircher, who came here 50 years ago. He confirmed that in the 1980's one of the priests, while cleaning the church, burned a trunk full of music scores brought by the Jesuits in the 17 and 18 centuries, and forgotten after they were expelled from America in 1767. And that some of those were saved by a carpenter from Santiago, José Suarez, who used to live right around the corner from the church. That was one of the first clues of what is now known as the Archivo Musical de las Misiones Jesuitas de Chiquitos, an international treasure.
Last Sunday, a small orchestra (violins and cellos) and a chorus of children from Santiago, conducted by a US menonite woman that went there as a volunteer, played in the church of Santiago de Chiquitos 5 baroque pieces composed in the Bolivian tropical forest some 300 years ago. No one knows who the authors were. The lyrics of one of the songs was in Chiquitano, the indigenous language.
Eusebio also told me that I should go to the top of the plateau, that seemed to be far, and high. But it was done, and it was an amazing experience. The plateau is like an island in the sky. A Brazilian friend I made there over a few 'Paceña' beers, who was searching for minerals, said that those formations had risen to the sky. Well, you can imagine the inmense forces behind all this changes. Worse than climate change, for sure.
The top of the plateau if full of amazing rock formations. It is like being in another planet. Or, really, like walking on top of an island in the middle of a green ocean. Not much else can be said. Soul, heart and mind were much better when I came back to Santiago and sat in the plaza to watch the stars and the milky way.
It was hard to leave that place . And it is even harder not to think that I should go back there. But this internet connection was found some 5 hours of travel later, in San José de Chiquitos, which is a bit far. There is a contrast: this town of San José has a lot of economic activity, but it is dirty, dusty, hot and the green seems to be far, even if you know that if you walk 5 blocks you are already in the tropical forest.
But, there is an amazing church here, made of stone. This is the first amazing one in the 'Jesuit circuit'. One of the most important features: the little angel heads hanging inside the place. They are a bit 'evil', in my opinion.
(Luis Cordova, in San Josè de Chiquitos, Bolivia, waiting for a bus to San Ignacio de Velasco)
Friday, March 21, 2008
Train to Roboré
The train station is incredibly calm this Easter Friday. The train that goes all the way to the Brazilian border from the Bolivian city of Santa Cruz de la Sierra will depart at noon today. It is a 12 hour ride to the town of Roboré. I don't have a lot of information about this town. Hopefully, there will be an internet point, but you never know.
This is the third time I take this train. And well, the last time, in 1992, it was an adventure. The Brazilians have been calling this railway the 'Tren da Morte' or Death Train. That time it was incredibly slow, and completely full. Overloaded.
It has been only 15 years since then. But that can be a lot too. For example, in 1992 the internet as we know it didn't exist at all.
(Luis Cordova, in the Santa Cruz de la Sierra's train station.)
This is the third time I take this train. And well, the last time, in 1992, it was an adventure. The Brazilians have been calling this railway the 'Tren da Morte' or Death Train. That time it was incredibly slow, and completely full. Overloaded.
It has been only 15 years since then. But that can be a lot too. For example, in 1992 the internet as we know it didn't exist at all.
(Luis Cordova, in the Santa Cruz de la Sierra's train station.)
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Fish, beer and heat
Fish, beer and heat
Waiting for a train in Santa Cruz de la Sierra. Where? Well, quite far from everywhere, actually. And not many things to do around here. But, this Thursday I woke up thinking about the difference between the tourist's view (nothing to see, nothing to do), and the wanderer's, or traveler's, who is able to enjoy just walking around and looking at how people live, and how houses have been built, and history, and political environment, and food. Maybe. Anyway, that's how I ended near the end of the city, punishing myself with cold beer and grilled freshwater fish.
This morning I just came out of the little hotel and started walking around. There is a lot of economic development in Santa Cruz, but that's it. It is difficult to find any sign of cultural activity, or a 'spirit' that allows the visitor to enjoy the urban feeling. The main plaza has become an unwelcoming spot, and the old town is not as nice as it was 15 years ago. Don't even think about the 'rings', that mark the expansion of this city. Bolivian visitors usually lock themselves in beautiful hotels. Others, they are just passin by. So, it is hard to find a reason to stay here for more than a day. Unless you are waiting for a train. And this is the Death Train, nonetheless.
For the traveler to this city: if you happen to spend some time in Santa Cruz, stick to the centro, but walk away from the main plaza, 3 or 4 blocks, looking for a side of the city that looks nicer. All of this under a burning sun, that makes you understand why most of the sidewalks are covered by roofs.
That's how I ended up in a market near the '6 de agosto' area. Bolivia is a country of markets, and they are amazing, the best you can find in Latin America and in most of our world. Santa Cruz is not specially famous for markets, but still... This was my first Bolivian market in a while, and it was so nice. From parrots to electronic devices, the offer of goods was huge. Fruits from the jungle, giant mandioc, beautiful and huge pineapples. And, something I had never seen before: very fresh hens, opened in 2 halves, so you could see the inside, including the eggs, the eggs that where coming out in the following days. The one for tomorrow, already with a hard shell and white, and the others like little yellow balls, of different sizes, very soft. It was like looking at the future. Wow.
The walk around Santa Cruz was very nice. And it was a good chance to see so many different people. Because this city has been receiving migrants from different places for decades. Besides the indigenous people from other parts of Bolivia, Brazilians and Paraguayans, the most notorious are: the Menonites, with their blue overalls and women dressed as if from another time, the Okinawans, brought here decades ago, and a funny group of Russians dressed a characters of the brothers Karamazov. And there is more, and maybe more sinister, you just dont's see them.
The city is in the middle of a policital conflict. They obviously hate the central Government headed by Evo Morales, and the walls are covered by graffittis calling for the autonomy of the region, and insulting the President. Some are very strong. Others, not so much. I just read one saying: 'Evo, you are bad'. But there are others that kind of explain what happens here, like: 'This is not my President'.
It was noon when I took a taxi and asked the driver, where is the fish man? He didn't know, so we stopped to ask, and found out about a market called 'El Bosque', where the fish from the jungle rivers and lakes arrives everyday. Well, it was an experience, because you see, the freshwater fish in this part of the world is an experience. The European perche (or is it perch?) is like plastic food if you make comparisons.
Well, in this market they have all this fish from the jungle and lots of grills with the fish on top, and these ladies cooking it. But, no beer, so I had to leave, but before found out about a place where you could have the best of 2 worlds under the burning sun of Santa Cruz de la Sierra at noon. I mean, grilled freshwater fish and cold beer. The result, a taxi that took me close to nowhere, almost where the city ends, to the restaurant of Pescadería Mario.
Mario's wife grilled a piece of 'pacú'. This fish is very wide, like a sole, but fat. And can be very big, 20 kilos. In the Amazon river the ribs of this fish (or its cousin, called 'tambaqui' over there) are broiled, and it is a meat with that taste... it is, again, an experience. And that's the end of this post: just imagine the vagabundo, seated in a table by the side of a dirt road full of dust, drinking Paceña beer, and having this grilled 'pacú' ribs. It was like teletransporting to the far west of the movies, but maybe in another planet. But, I didn't have a gun that would have been just perfect for a cowboy of a fishboy... Still, there was a secret weapon in my backpack: a boomerang.
Lesson learned: don't forget my camera again!
(Luis Cordova, Santa Cruz, somewhere. Today is hot, hot hot. Blue skies. Tonight, full moon)
Waiting for a train in Santa Cruz de la Sierra. Where? Well, quite far from everywhere, actually. And not many things to do around here. But, this Thursday I woke up thinking about the difference between the tourist's view (nothing to see, nothing to do), and the wanderer's, or traveler's, who is able to enjoy just walking around and looking at how people live, and how houses have been built, and history, and political environment, and food. Maybe. Anyway, that's how I ended near the end of the city, punishing myself with cold beer and grilled freshwater fish.
This morning I just came out of the little hotel and started walking around. There is a lot of economic development in Santa Cruz, but that's it. It is difficult to find any sign of cultural activity, or a 'spirit' that allows the visitor to enjoy the urban feeling. The main plaza has become an unwelcoming spot, and the old town is not as nice as it was 15 years ago. Don't even think about the 'rings', that mark the expansion of this city. Bolivian visitors usually lock themselves in beautiful hotels. Others, they are just passin by. So, it is hard to find a reason to stay here for more than a day. Unless you are waiting for a train. And this is the Death Train, nonetheless.
For the traveler to this city: if you happen to spend some time in Santa Cruz, stick to the centro, but walk away from the main plaza, 3 or 4 blocks, looking for a side of the city that looks nicer. All of this under a burning sun, that makes you understand why most of the sidewalks are covered by roofs.
That's how I ended up in a market near the '6 de agosto' area. Bolivia is a country of markets, and they are amazing, the best you can find in Latin America and in most of our world. Santa Cruz is not specially famous for markets, but still... This was my first Bolivian market in a while, and it was so nice. From parrots to electronic devices, the offer of goods was huge. Fruits from the jungle, giant mandioc, beautiful and huge pineapples. And, something I had never seen before: very fresh hens, opened in 2 halves, so you could see the inside, including the eggs, the eggs that where coming out in the following days. The one for tomorrow, already with a hard shell and white, and the others like little yellow balls, of different sizes, very soft. It was like looking at the future. Wow.
The walk around Santa Cruz was very nice. And it was a good chance to see so many different people. Because this city has been receiving migrants from different places for decades. Besides the indigenous people from other parts of Bolivia, Brazilians and Paraguayans, the most notorious are: the Menonites, with their blue overalls and women dressed as if from another time, the Okinawans, brought here decades ago, and a funny group of Russians dressed a characters of the brothers Karamazov. And there is more, and maybe more sinister, you just dont's see them.
The city is in the middle of a policital conflict. They obviously hate the central Government headed by Evo Morales, and the walls are covered by graffittis calling for the autonomy of the region, and insulting the President. Some are very strong. Others, not so much. I just read one saying: 'Evo, you are bad'. But there are others that kind of explain what happens here, like: 'This is not my President'.
It was noon when I took a taxi and asked the driver, where is the fish man? He didn't know, so we stopped to ask, and found out about a market called 'El Bosque', where the fish from the jungle rivers and lakes arrives everyday. Well, it was an experience, because you see, the freshwater fish in this part of the world is an experience. The European perche (or is it perch?) is like plastic food if you make comparisons.
Well, in this market they have all this fish from the jungle and lots of grills with the fish on top, and these ladies cooking it. But, no beer, so I had to leave, but before found out about a place where you could have the best of 2 worlds under the burning sun of Santa Cruz de la Sierra at noon. I mean, grilled freshwater fish and cold beer. The result, a taxi that took me close to nowhere, almost where the city ends, to the restaurant of Pescadería Mario.
Mario's wife grilled a piece of 'pacú'. This fish is very wide, like a sole, but fat. And can be very big, 20 kilos. In the Amazon river the ribs of this fish (or its cousin, called 'tambaqui' over there) are broiled, and it is a meat with that taste... it is, again, an experience. And that's the end of this post: just imagine the vagabundo, seated in a table by the side of a dirt road full of dust, drinking Paceña beer, and having this grilled 'pacú' ribs. It was like teletransporting to the far west of the movies, but maybe in another planet. But, I didn't have a gun that would have been just perfect for a cowboy of a fishboy... Still, there was a secret weapon in my backpack: a boomerang.
Lesson learned: don't forget my camera again!
(Luis Cordova, Santa Cruz, somewhere. Today is hot, hot hot. Blue skies. Tonight, full moon)
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Science Fiction
Very early this morning I was among the first humans to walk accross downtown Santa Cruz de la Sierra. It was fresh, and the light of the tropics, transparent and tender. Then I bought the newspaper "El Deber" and found out that the writer Arthur C. Clarke has died in the other side of the tropics, in Sri Lanka. Then, I found myself wondering about 'Rama', outer space and how are we going to react when we finally meet... what?
"Rendezvous with Rama" is a classic among Science Fiction novels. The kind of book that makes you wonder about humankind.
Now he was 90, and wrote lots of books, and was very famous, and lived in the city where he decided to live, Colombo. Maybe it was time to go.
Of course, he was also behind the "2001, A Space Oddysey". The rumour says that Stanley Kubrick read one of his stories, and went a bit further, and then made a phone call to Sri Lanka.
More in Spanish: http://www.ciberama.com/
(lc)
"Rendezvous with Rama" is a classic among Science Fiction novels. The kind of book that makes you wonder about humankind.
Now he was 90, and wrote lots of books, and was very famous, and lived in the city where he decided to live, Colombo. Maybe it was time to go.
Of course, he was also behind the "2001, A Space Oddysey". The rumour says that Stanley Kubrick read one of his stories, and went a bit further, and then made a phone call to Sri Lanka.
More in Spanish: http://www.ciberama.com/
(lc)
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Ticket to ride
Got a ticket for the 'regional' train this Friday. This 'Death Train' goes all the way to the Brazilian border, but my plan is to get down in Roboré and spend some time around there. It won't be a short trip, this is an extremely slow train, it will take almost 12 hours to get there (compared to 8 by bus, if the road is open.)
They all tell you that the train is much better than 15 years ago when we took it with Camilla. At that time it was so full of smugglers. Going to the bathroom was an impossible task. The seat was less than 90 degrees. And it took 23 hours, more or less, from the border to Santa Cruz, including a small derailment. They just pushed the wagon out of the way and the train kept going. But for a while we all were there alone, green walls all around us. Anmd suddenly we noticed that the jungle was full of mosquitoes...
It takes time, but I love trains. And all the life they bring to little towns otherwise abandoned, surrounded by a thick forest.
Got a reservation in a hotel San Martín in Roboré. Is there anything to do Easter Friday at midnight when the train arrives? "Sleep," said the guy who took the reservation.
(Luis Cordova, at the internet point in the train station, Ferrocarril de Oriente, Santa Cruz de la Sierra)
They all tell you that the train is much better than 15 years ago when we took it with Camilla. At that time it was so full of smugglers. Going to the bathroom was an impossible task. The seat was less than 90 degrees. And it took 23 hours, more or less, from the border to Santa Cruz, including a small derailment. They just pushed the wagon out of the way and the train kept going. But for a while we all were there alone, green walls all around us. Anmd suddenly we noticed that the jungle was full of mosquitoes...
It takes time, but I love trains. And all the life they bring to little towns otherwise abandoned, surrounded by a thick forest.
Got a reservation in a hotel San Martín in Roboré. Is there anything to do Easter Friday at midnight when the train arrives? "Sleep," said the guy who took the reservation.
(Luis Cordova, at the internet point in the train station, Ferrocarril de Oriente, Santa Cruz de la Sierra)
2 pm in Santa Cruz
The plane from the Chilean coastal city of Iquique to this Bolivian city in the middle of South America flew over a desertic, grey plateau during most of the 1.5 hours that takes to go from one city to the other. Then it suddenly went down into a sea of very heavy clouds, and after a little bit of turbulence... There was the green. All over. So green that it could hurt your eyes.
Santa Cruz de la Sierra is the entrance to the Orient of Bolivia, a thick strip of jungle-like or tropical-forest-related ecosystems that spread from north to south of the country, including deep forests and rich land and misterious corners that have attracted explorers, golddiggers, Japanese peasants, Menonite colonies, Jesuits and other priests, nazis, capitalists, soybean farmers, natural gas investors, Brazilians and Paraguayans, indigenous people from other parts of the country, dealers, and of course the Che Guevara and his Cuban guerrillas, Incas a long time ago, Spanish conquerors, indeed, developmen preachers, wanderers, and lost souls, among others.
It is a huge territory. In the top north of the country, Pando is considered one of the most isolated places on Earth. To the south, in the Chaco, there was a very cruel and stupid war. My granparents met during the Chaco war.
At noon Santa Cruz was chaotic. But now is 2 pm, the sun hurts, and all the people and the traffick jams have disappeared. Stores are closed, public offices too. Heoric backpackers challenge the white light in the main plaza. It is the heat, siesta time. And it is humid like hell. For me, time to find a train ticket, since the newspaper says that roads in remote areas are closed because of recent rains.
Hope the train is ok. Internationally, it is known as 'Tren da morte', or Death Train. But I have done it twice already and it's not really that bad.
(Luis Cordova, Santa Cruz, kind of warm...)
Santa Cruz de la Sierra is the entrance to the Orient of Bolivia, a thick strip of jungle-like or tropical-forest-related ecosystems that spread from north to south of the country, including deep forests and rich land and misterious corners that have attracted explorers, golddiggers, Japanese peasants, Menonite colonies, Jesuits and other priests, nazis, capitalists, soybean farmers, natural gas investors, Brazilians and Paraguayans, indigenous people from other parts of the country, dealers, and of course the Che Guevara and his Cuban guerrillas, Incas a long time ago, Spanish conquerors, indeed, developmen preachers, wanderers, and lost souls, among others.
It is a huge territory. In the top north of the country, Pando is considered one of the most isolated places on Earth. To the south, in the Chaco, there was a very cruel and stupid war. My granparents met during the Chaco war.
At noon Santa Cruz was chaotic. But now is 2 pm, the sun hurts, and all the people and the traffick jams have disappeared. Stores are closed, public offices too. Heoric backpackers challenge the white light in the main plaza. It is the heat, siesta time. And it is humid like hell. For me, time to find a train ticket, since the newspaper says that roads in remote areas are closed because of recent rains.
Hope the train is ok. Internationally, it is known as 'Tren da morte', or Death Train. But I have done it twice already and it's not really that bad.
(Luis Cordova, Santa Cruz, kind of warm...)
Monday, March 17, 2008
Toys
Yes, I also carry a couple of boomerangs, just in case. I wonder, how will those fly if the air is so thin at 4,000 meters or so?
My frisbee, however, was lost in Playa Parguito, in Venezuela. It was a beautiful ring, but the Caribbean just sucked it.
And nowadays there is always a Sepak Takraw ball in my backpack. This needs some explanation: I am the worst Takraw player of the world, but usually the best one around the places I visit. When I go to South East Asia, I won't take it, unless there is a lot of improvement.
(Luis Cordova, very late, March 17, looking for my passport!)
My frisbee, however, was lost in Playa Parguito, in Venezuela. It was a beautiful ring, but the Caribbean just sucked it.
And nowadays there is always a Sepak Takraw ball in my backpack. This needs some explanation: I am the worst Takraw player of the world, but usually the best one around the places I visit. When I go to South East Asia, I won't take it, unless there is a lot of improvement.
(Luis Cordova, very late, March 17, looking for my passport!)
To Santa Cruz de la Sierra in Bolivia
It took only five minutes to get the ticket to Santa Cruz de la Sierra, in Bolivia. A trip, a therapy, a project. Who knows. But, once the payment was accepted, it felt like I needed a plan. Too bad I don't have any.
So far the idea is to cross Bolivia all the way to Lima, starting in the Chiquitania region near the border with Brazil. But things may change.
I fly this March 18 from Santiago to Santa Cruz. And then we will see. This is the Easter weekend, and the region I want to visit is full of fantastic Jesuit missions. But where I see history and architecture and society, the others just see a... church.
Travel equipment: small backpack, 3 shirts, 2 t shirts, 2 trousers, 3 notebooks, 3 books, camera, pens, and some other tools. No laptop, so updates to this blog will be done from internet points, if available.
And yes, this blog is about the trip to Bolivia. But there may be other trips in the future. It is kind of hard for me to be at my house.
A Vagabundo is a wanderer, more or less. It can also be a vagrant, or a tramp.
(Luis Cordova, 17 March in Santiago)
So far the idea is to cross Bolivia all the way to Lima, starting in the Chiquitania region near the border with Brazil. But things may change.
I fly this March 18 from Santiago to Santa Cruz. And then we will see. This is the Easter weekend, and the region I want to visit is full of fantastic Jesuit missions. But where I see history and architecture and society, the others just see a... church.
Travel equipment: small backpack, 3 shirts, 2 t shirts, 2 trousers, 3 notebooks, 3 books, camera, pens, and some other tools. No laptop, so updates to this blog will be done from internet points, if available.
And yes, this blog is about the trip to Bolivia. But there may be other trips in the future. It is kind of hard for me to be at my house.
A Vagabundo is a wanderer, more or less. It can also be a vagrant, or a tramp.
(Luis Cordova, 17 March in Santiago)
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