Friday, March 11
Our driver, José Luis, and our guide, Iver, showed up a few minutes late to pick us up from our Airbnb. We drove southwest out of the city toward Samaipata, taking winding and crumbling roads through the Amazon to the base of the Andes. On the way Iver had us stop at a roadside stand to get some coca leaves which he flavored with sodium bicarbonate (lime for added potency), Nescafé powder, and Maracuya (passion fruit) flavored stevia. He showed us how to mash the coca and powder together using plastic mats and a wooden mallet.
Back in the car for a long drive. Iver told us about Santa Cruz: the culture, the geography, the indigenous people, the politics, etc. We quickly realized he was more on the conspiracy theorist side of the spectrum, especially concerning the government’s handling of COVID. He spoke about how the people and government of La Paz thought that they and their Inca ancestors were superior to the people of Santa Cruz and their Amazonian ancestors. I sympathized at first but then the victim theme kept returning across every discussion and it was hard to decipher what were true facts and what was his opinion. Plus, it was bumming me out to hear such negative talk the whole day. We figured it was probably a good change from the overly positive guides in the past- who would color even the worst corruption as a cheeky part of their culture- but it was overdone.
We drove to El Fuente, which translates to the fort and is named because the Spanish used the area as a fort when they took it over. Originally though, the huge sandstone rock was carved into mysterious patterns by the indigenous people that occupied the Amazons ~1500 BCE, before the Incas arrived. The archeological site had the original carved rock, the building foundations/ruins from the Incans, and the old foundations from the Spanish settlement. Iver told us that UNESCO had offered a grant to build something over the carved rock to protect it since, being sandstone, it continues to erode and weather away, losing a little bit of the history each day. Iver said the Bolivian government chose to use the money to protect Incan structures rather than this Amazonian rock. It was strange that many of the explanation signs spoke about how the Incan priests used the rock, after finding it, rather than conjecturing what the original inhabitants had created it for. Again, it was hard to suss out what was fact from fiction and at one point Iver told us not to read the signs because they lied.
To his credit, he told us stories about how he grew up in the area and how when he was little he and his friends would climb up the other side of the hill to see the rock while avoiding paying the park entrance fee. He pointed to one spot and said, wistfully, “there used to be a beautiful fruit tree right here”. Comments like this made me realize his guiding style was more like an estranged uncle who shows you around his childhood hometown rather than a professional tour guide.
Iver gave us the option of seeing more Incan ruins (which he didn’t sell very well) or to leave early. So we left early, walking on the other side of the big carved rock before walking back down the hill to the car. From here we drove to the town of Samaipata. This town is known in the area as being a ‘hippie’ or ‘backpackers’ town and full of artists and new age religious people. As we drove in we saw a man that looked exactly like John Muir emerge from a trail and waive down a moto taxi. Besides Muir, we saw few other tourists and the town seemed sleepy and shuttered, perhaps because it was still a weekday.
We went to a little restaurant for lunch and Iver seemed to know the owner. Iver advised us to order the pepper steak which came with a berry reduction sauce. The steak was overdone but we smiled and nodded when the owner came over to ask us how it was. I ordered the catfish stew and it was in a weird curry like sauce, but surprisingly good. Iver got his food to go (explaining he had a big breakfast) so he just sat there quietly watching us and the driver eat our lunch. The restaurant was playing classical music covers of pop songs and with the leftover carsickness, awkward social interactions and elevator music I practically fell asleep in my soup.
Back in the car I slept so hard despite the rough bumpy and windy roads. We finally pulled up to the waterfalls. It was less than a ten minute walk to a small waterfall and a minute more to the main one. The falls were pretty, and it was nice pretending that we were back in the Amazon one last time.
The drive back to Santa Cruz was quiet again, no talking, no music. I listened to my audiobook the whole way. We definitely overpaid for this day trip and we mildly regretted paying anything at all for it. But, it had been a rainy, gray day so we were happy we had something to do besides sit at the Airbnb and look out into the pool.
Saturday, March 12
To our delight we got the same guide, Iver, again but a new driver. Now that we understood Iver we knew how to converse with him and we actually talked passionately about flood control for a bit which was nice. The drive was also going to be much shorter, so we were ready with our positive attitudes.
They kindly took us first to a COVID testing center to get tests for our flight to Argentina the next day. The woman administering the test was a bit rude, yelling “VUELO???” (flight) at me after she said something very quickly and I asked her to repeat it slower. I reasoned that every time this happens to me it is the tiniest bit of payback for every time a non-English speaker is unfairly treated badly or yelled at in the US. I told her “¡SI!” and then she poked my brain with a q-tip before sending me out and calling Carl in. As I left I heard her yell at him and he yelled back at her “¡MAÑANA!” (tomorrow) in case she was asking when the flight was.
While I waited for Carl I remarked to Iver that I hated the feeling of getting tested up the nose like that, and this was my third test on our trip. He said he had never gotten a test and didn’t believe in them. He was starting to say that he thinks COVID testing is just the beginning of increasing government control across the world when Carl came out from his test and I said a tiny thank you to the universe for saving me from that conversation. Turns out Americans aren’t the only crazies.
Then we drove to the Lomos de Arena (sand hills) park. On the way into the park we pulled over and Iver picked us a fruit off a cactus. It was called Tuna—. We opened it with a knife and scraped out the fleshy insides. The inside was a white fleshy meat but crisp, with little black seeds. Like a kiwi but not sweet. Refreshing!
We drove around and took some pictures before trying out some sand boarding. It was difficult at first but we got the hang of it and could ride to the bottom without falling. I still looked like a loser with my butt all the way out but Carl was gliding down in style.
We stopped by a lagoon that had formed naturally from rainwater. This had been advertised as a stop on the tour where we could put our swimsuits on and go for a swim. The temperature was unseasonably cool and the sky was so cloudy and dark that the last thing I wanted to do was change and put my near naked body in some pond water. But Carl, ever for not wanting to miss an experience, changed and waded in. He said it was colder than he expected. As he waded out toward the middle, toward some vegetation, Iver said “stay away from the middle where the plants are because there are alligators and snakes”. Carl gave a look like ‘well eff me’ and eased his way back toward the Sandy shore.
We went tramping through some bushes looking for sloths but we didn’t see any. To Iver’s credit, he looked very hard to try to find a sloth for us and he even gave me a piggyback ride across the river at one point so I didn’t have to take off my shoes to cross.
He and the driver also pulled all their strings to figure out how we could buy tickets to the fútbol game that night. We ended up just driving to the stadium and asking and deciding to chance coming back later just before the game. Then we drove back to the COVID testing site because of course the message they sent us didn’t have our test results displayed. The guy at the counter seemed unconcerned that the text with link hadn’t worked at all and he just nonchalantly printed out our results and gave them to us in an envelope, as if that was the plan all along.
We said goodbye to Iver and our driver and hurried back over to the stadium. The game was a match between two teams local to Santa Cruz: Blooming (light blue jerseys) and Oriente Petrolero (green). We weren’t sure who to root for. We wore neutral colors and decided we would cheer for whoever seemed to be the underdog or whichever team’s fans were surrounding us. Upon arriving, we approached the stadium from a different side and were presented with cheaper ticket options but we didn’t know the difference. Turns out the cheaper tickets were for cement stadium seating (different than the plastic seats) and we were deeply in blue Blooming territory. Given the cheaper seats we reasoned they must be the underdog so we were happy to sit amongst them.
We got a cheap ($1.25) burger outside the stadium reasoning we would spend the last of our Bobs on beer inside the stadium. We were surprised to find there was NO beer, only water and sodas. We later read that the fans of the two teams had a reputation for being violently passionate and that riot police were deployed to mitigate any uprisings. Then it made sense why there was no alcohol to fuel the already energetic fans. We opted to get some meatloaf patties?, the driest yucca fries we’ve ever had, and a very (necessary) refreshing cup of Coca Cola.
The fans on both sides were so passionate and were signing and yelling and dancing for over an hour before the game even started. Finally, as the players came out, the fans stretched blue banners all the way to the top of the stadium and threw scraps of paper into the air. Our side had a band, many shirtless men, and then-fireworks!
Blooming somehow scored a goal early in the game and then were forever on defense. Toward the end of the game, green scored and spirits around us plummeted. With just a few minutes left our team somehow gained control of the ball and fired on the goal- missing it by a hand length. But before I could start filming again they somehow scored, right before the time ran out, bringing the final score to Blooming 2; Oriente Petrolero 1. The Blooming fans were SO happy – even Carl took his shirt off and swung it around his head. Everyone sang in unison, fans climbed up the fence, and there were more fireworks! It was so much fun to be in the middle of the chaotic celebration.
We walked with the crowds back through the center of town. Eventually the fútbol crowds transitioned into the clubbing crowds and we admired how nicely all the cute young people were dressed. We walked by a Santa Cruz Brewery location. We had been to an SBC in the trendy, outer neighborhood but this downtown location was only open on weekends, we didn’t know why. When we got in, we realized why. It wasn’t a brewery- it was a club. Just like the Chapultepec cervecería had tricked us, we realized that brewery was a misnomer. They did make their own beer but the place was nothing like a mountain town brewery in the US. It was a night club with a DJ blaring music, disc lights flashing and smoke machines in each corner.
We didn’t have a reservation (obvi) so they put us at a table directly next to the men’s bathroom. Lovely. We sipped our IPAs and people watched all the nicely dressed club-goers. A woman in a nice dress with the word Uyuni on the belt came over and offered us two free Uyuni beers (one with salt!) if we took a picture with her and the beers. We had wanted to try the salty Uyuni beer anyways so we were thrilled at the opportunity for a free one. Of course we accepted so hopefully we are on a Uyuni ad someday.
Sharing our Traveler's Diarya 