Fin de mi Viaje

As I leave South America, back to my country, back to the streets i know so well, and the people I love, I am bombarded by a mix of thoughts and emotions. This trip has been an unforgettable, exhilarating, and at times exhausting, experience. It is difficult to transform my contentment and personal successes into words. I have learned to look at the world differently, appreciate aspects I just learned existed, and abstract lessons and wisdom that the great teacher of experience has to offer. I met some incredible people and some very miserable people. I communicated with people from all over the world and realized, after breaking down language barriers, how much we really have in common.

In a way, the end of my trip feels like a small death, but it is also the start of a new life. The next chapter is beginning... I just hope I can go forward with the same spirit and optimism I have gained in the past 8 months. If you are having doubts about wanting to travel, or are just waiting around for "something"... stop waiting. Take the leap and don't look back. Life is too short to wait for opportunities. Make the opportunities and abundance follows...

Buenos Aires and Iguazu Falls Pictures

Argentina

I have now been home for over a month but thought it appropriate to finish my journey in writing and close out what was an amazing experience. My last 3 weeks were spent in Argentina, a highly developed and interesting country. It was a major change coming from the underdeveloped and poverty stricken land of Bolivia. I could tell a difference immediately after crossing the border when I went from stuffy, old buses driving on dirt roads in Bolivia, to air conditioned, brand new looking buses in Argentina. The highways opened up into 5 and 6 lanes and traffic flowed like blood through healthy veins. The metal roofed houses that lined the roads in Bolivia slowly transformed into street lights and farms as we drove further into the heart of Argentina. I remember making a mental note about how such a large change can occur between two countries that share a border and language. Don't get me wrong; South America as a whole has suffered from centuries of exploitation, dictatorships, and hardship; but Bolivia still remains one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere, while Argentina has become a developed and highly efficient country (more European than Latin).

I continued my journey through Argentina and spent varying amounts of time in Salta, Cordoba, Mendoza, Buenos Aires, and Iguazu Falls. Each city had enormous churches (from a heavy Catholic influence), lots of culture, music, students, and lots of external beauty. Mendoza, famous for it's vineyards and mountains, was one of my favorite stops. Beautiful, laid back, and with great character, just my type of place. I spent my time exploring the wine region and biking through some of the most famous vineyards. Tasting, sunshine, a bike, and latin music, what more is there? I also visited the Aconcagua National Park, home of South America's largest mountain (Aconcagua). Many climbers attempt the 22,841 foot summit, which takes almost 3 weeks. The season was not right for me to attempt this, but I doubt that I have had the training or experience to try. Maybe in the future...

Buenos Aires was, second to none, a mind boggling city, both in it's grandeur and culture. I spent a week in the city and felt I had seen a small fraction of what she offered. The city of over 11 million people (second largest population in South America next to Sao Paolo in Brazil) is the home of Tango. Culture booms from every street corner and at times it feels much more European than South American. I loved exploring the different neighborhoods and nightlife that BA had to offer.

The last highlight was Iguazu Falls. I find it hard to describe this wonder of nature. It seems that the earth just drops off and water falls from all directions. It is a site that must be seen in your lifetime and offers a sense of tranquility and inspiration that only water offers. It was one of my last stops on the map before heading back to Buenos Aires and my flight home. My final bus journey after 8 months of many buses couldnt have gone more smoothly. I was served a hot chicken meal, whiskey, champaign, and dessert. The bus was smooth, air conditioned to perfection, and sleep came easily as I contemplated my trip and the end of one of the best adventures of my life.

Salar De Uyuni

Directly after leaving Sucre I went on a 3 day tour of the famous Salt Flats (Salar de Uyuni). It was a magical place with salt deserts that stretched as far as the eye could see, moon like landscapes, unreal rock formations, and freezing cold temperature (I am fairly certain it dropped below 0 degrees the second night of the journey). I feel the only way to justify this trip is with pictures...

After my tour, we arrived in Uyuni and I only had 9 hours to wait for my train that was departing at 2:30 in the morning. I nearly froze as I sat in the train terminal with every layer of clothing hugging my body. When the train finally arrived I was glad to get out of the cold and close my drooping eyes for a few hours. The overall train journey took about 10 hours and when we arrived at the Argentine border I had slept about 4 hours in more than 24. No time to sleep... after crossing the border and catching another 7 hour bus with a changeover halfway, I finally found myself in Salta at 1am. It would have been nice to sleep on the bus to Salta, but unfortunately a 14 year old girl kept me awake with 7th grade stories in rapid fire Argentinian Spanish. I couldnt find the heart to tell her to shut her mouth, so endured this for a few hours until she got off at her stop. Nearly 48 hours later and only 4 hours of sleep I was ready to crash but so tired I wasnt tired. After a few games of pool and some music I finally fell asleep at about 2:30am.

With 3 weeks left and dwindling money I am feeling bittersweet about my inevitable return to the mother land.

My New Home

Sucre, the capital of Bolivia, is a beautiful city with some of the nicest parks and my favorite main square in all of South America. The extravagence of the buildings and cleanliness of the streets make you forget you are in the poorest country in South America. I had decided to stay in Sucre for a month and take a short break from the day to day movements and constant bus rides. A few Spanish classes, volunteer work, and a daily routine was just what I needed.

Everything fell into place within a week; I was aligned with the perfect apartment situated just to the side of a courtyard and owned by a lovely Bolivian family (I had my own bathroom and tiny kitchen and paid just $80 for the entire month); I set up 2 hours of Spanish classes per day; I found a job volunteering at a local savings and loan bank learning micro finance and helping to create better efficiencies in their processes; and I quickly made local friends. It was the perfect combination, however the job turned out to be quite the adventure.

My ¨interview¨ did not go well at all and I barely understood a word the banker said. If it werent for the fact I was a foreigner and the position was strictly volunteer I would have been kicked out the door immediately. I had the excuse of not being fluent in Spanish as my reasoning and I was given a 120 page risk management document (the bankers Bible I was told) to read within the next week. Each day following I was stationed at the computer and got to my daily reading. After 3 or 4 days of struggling through the material and using my Spanish to English dictionary, I was exhausted. When I returned the following week with my newfound knowledge I was told they were switching my project and I was given another 30 page document of credit risk to read for the next week!! At this point I had a strong feeling I was not being taken seriously. When I finally ¨started¨ work I only had about 3 days left, but had learned many new financial vocabulary words in Spanish. I ended up reading over some loan applications for micro finance projects and creating a spreadsheet that was supposed to maximize the efficiency of calculating their risk exposure and volatility of deposits and loans. I realized how far behind the banking system in Bolivia is. It was the first they had heard of using complicated formulas in Excel to calculate volatility and create graphs. I think I got a little out of the experience and offered some of my knowledge at the same time. The only regret I have is not having enough time to maximize the experience.

Another great aspect of Sucre was the food and fresh juices. I made a habit out of eating chorizo sandwiches 2 or 3 times per week and going to the local market for a fresh fruit juice or fruit salad almost every day after Spanish class. Sucre was turning into my favorite South American cities and as the month neared its final days I knew it would be a hard place to leave.

On the final Friday I had in Sucre, the unexpected happened. It began with the sound of fireworks and chants that echoes from between the historic buildings as more and more people arrived to the Plaza 25 de Mayo. It had begun earlier in the week with mild protests supporting the latest political grievence and was culminating on this particular Friday. The people were audibly showing their support for the recently ousted mayor of Sucre. He had been democratically elected, but didnt align with Evo Morales´ (the president of Bolivia) party. Issues were raised about past corruption, on behalf of the mayor, and a panel of 3 judges voted for change. The elected mayor was tossed from office and a replacement, who happens to align with Evo´s political party, has been sworn in as Sucres new mayor. In Bolivia the norm for such an event is to take to the streets with banners and chants to show their disagreement. Occassionally, these protests can turn hostile...

As I neared the square, I noticed a large gathering of people chanting and marching as tires burned in the streets. On one side riot police stood in formation. All of a sudden, without warning, screams erupted and the crowd scattered in all directions. Tear gas flooded the demonstration and sent people running down side streets in search of clean air. This was just the beginning. What insued in and around the main plaza of Sucre was not unlike a war of small proportions. Police were constant with their tear gas bombardment, while rioters threw rocks, shot marbles from slingshots, and launched fireworks at the Police. The bang from exploding fireworks and small pieces of dynamite echoed off the buildings, smoldering tires slowly burned in the streets, smoke from the tear gas and burning rubber filled the sky, and Plaza 25 de Mayo momentarily transformed into a war zone (but without real weapons).

I was caught in the mix and tear gased multiple time. Luckily I was offered vinegar (which helps with the stinging sensation in your throat and eyes) by locals. Roads became impassable due to burning tires and more and more smoke filled the sky as the day turned to night. The chaos finally settled down around midnight and the only sign that anything had happened was a deserted and destroyed plaza still filled with remnants of tear gas. For me, this was one of the most adrenaline filled days I have had in a long time, but for the locals of Bolivia it was just another ¨normal¨ day.

***Please take note (Mom): No sons were hurt in the production of this story. I will be home in 3 weeks and you can scold me.

A window gets broken during the riots

A local runs from surrounding tear gas canisters

Police vs. the Citizens

Police march on the plaza

Locals cover their faces from the smoke filling the sky

A couple friends from Sucre

Self explainatory

A Sucre side street (without rioting)

Into the Bolivian Amazon

I stepped off the plane and felt the thick jungle air fill my lungs. The mugginess felt good after many cold days in the frigid Bolivian alto plano. I was amazed at how much my world could change with a 35 minute flight from La Paz (12,000 feet) to Rurrenabaque (sea level). Immidiately after stepping outside we were bombarded by locals offering accomadation, rides into town, and restaurants. After bargaining between the bus, a motorcycle, and a private jeep as a means of transportation into town, we settled on moto transport for less than 50 cents. I hopped on the back and felt a moment of panick as we took off in a motorcycle gang of about 15. It would have been very easy to rob me for all I was worth, but the closest thing to a knockout punch I received was the wind whipping my face as we sped down the cobbled street.




Rurrenabaque is a popular tourist hub for either the thick jungle of Madidi National Park or the Pampas (savannah) region. My Canadian friend and I decided on the Pampas tour because it was possible to see more in less days. The three day tour ended up being amazing and included floating the Tuichi river in a canoe, searching the vast savannah plains for Anocandas (we found one!), eating incredible buffet style food, swimming with pink river dolphins and aligators nearby, Piranha fishing, and viewing an abundance of wildlife. I usually steer clear of organized tours, but this specific one exceeded my admittedly low expectations.





When we arrived back in Rurrenabaque the plan was to spend one night and catch a flight out the next day. However, when I awoke at 4:30am to the sound of monsoon type rain rattling the tin roof, I had doubts that there would be any flights. My suspicion was confirmed when the rain pressed on until about 11am. Plan B: A 17 hour bus on winding dirt roads! I wasnt thrilled, but had no other options... I was running short on money and wanted to get back to La Paz sooner rather than later. The bus swayed and bumped in route to La Paz and all was uneventful until about 11pm when, all of a sudden, we stopped. I looked outside and could see nothing but dark skies and wondered why we had stopped. After a few minutes half the people on the bus got off, while the other half stayed wondering what was going on. The engine rumbled and the bus lunged forward, tilted right, tilted a bit more, and suddenly I realized I was sitting in a death trap. We had slid slightly off the road and were stuck in the muddy embankment. As the driver tried to force the bus forward we had slid further onto the brink of an even worse outcome. Luckily, I realized this and scurried off the bus before we ended up sideways in the ditch. Needless to say, after a half hour or so of the crew unsuccessfully attempting to free the bus from cluches of Pacha Mama (Mother Earth), a passing truck was able to tug us out damage free. Just another normal night en route to La Paz.





We arrived the next morning and were greeted once more by the freezing cold of La Paz. I had to search for warmer weather. Next stop, Sucre, for some R&R, volunteering, Spanish classes, and, I hoped, sunshine and warmth...

Look at the teeth on this Piranha!


And the dientes in this Caiman

This is the motorcycle I rode into Rurrenabaque on

La Paz, Bolivia

Our crew standing on the death road outside of La Paz

Another stretch of deadly road

La Paz at dusk

Llama fetuses in the witch market

As the bus crept forward into the outskirts of La Paz, I could feel the cold air seeping through the window panes. Outside, the fumes and honks of rush hour filled the evening sky. The streets were flooded with people, buses, and cars, everyone going their own way, lost in their thoughts and routines. I, meanwhile, was contemplating the chaos around me, while I anxiously awaited our arrival. It had been another long bus ride and I was ready to stay put for a week or so. I remember thinking how ugly La Paz was and what the fuss from other travelers was about. It wasn´t until we reached the crest of one of the ridges that surroundes La Paz and began to drop down into the city that I saw the hidden beauty and marvelled at the way the city clings to the sides of the protruding mountains. It is a mix of modern infrastructure, old adobe houses with tin roofs, traffic, pollution, amazing views, nearby mountains that tower in the distance tempting climbers with their snow capped peaks, and crowds of people slowly living their Bolivian lifestyle.

Like most South American cities, La Paz is filled with street vendors selling everything from clothes and food to love potions and llama fetuses. Fetuses??!!??... you are probably asking yourself... and no this is not a typo. They actually sell llama fetuses to give as a gift to bring good luck when hung in a persons home. I couldn´t see myself getting used to the idea of a fetus hanging anywhere near my prescence, nor of anyone else I know appreciating such a gift, so I passed on the purchase. However, I probably could have used some luck for what I planned to do in La Paz... bike at high speeds down the ¨death road¨. The death road is a dirt road built into dramatic landscape with thousand foot drops, poor visability, narrow enough for only one car in places, and has claimed thousands of lives in it´s history. The road is now closed to traffic due to the number of cars and buses that have rolled off it´s steep cliffs, but has become a thrill seekers tourist attraction instead. Closing the road to traffic has slowed the death count, but not halted it completely as the occassional biker loses control and joins the growing number of tragedies.

The ride was one of the more dangerous things I have done here, but well worth the hair raising drop offs and narrow turns. I can happily report no accidents and beautiful views. From beginning to end we descended from 4,700 meters to 1,200 meters. All and all a good day!

The rest of my time in La Paz was spent strolling the markets and freezing in the high altitude winter. I had also planned a trip to Rurrenabaque, the portal into the Bolivian Amazon basin, by way of a 35 minute flight. I would soon be in the thick, muggy air of the jungle.