1992 Bolivia
Bolivia is beautiful beyond belief. And very varied.
Dense lush jungle and up to 100% humidity in the steamy lowlands from which
wide muddy rivers flow eventually into the mighty Amazon to the north. Towering
black Andes peaks where nothing but glaciers
grow. A dry high desert valley running along the western border where minerals
turn the earth tan and red and green. Mist-strewn valleys that link the
snow-capped Andes with the jungled lowlands.
Salt-flats and glorious Lake Titicaca. Bolivia has it
all. Her people are kind and warm and curious. Almost 70% are pureblood Indian.
In fact the only problem with Bolivia
is that it is VERY SLOW getting from A to B. And therefore I got to see less of
the country than I wanted.
HIGHLIGHT:
I entered Bolivia
in the north and took a cargo boat from Guayaramerin to Puerto Villaroel. Here’s
an extract from a shipboard letter sent home. “What bliss! Nothing to do and
ten days to do it in. Southward bound up the Rio Mamore aboard the naval tug
Paredes. I boarded in Guayaramerin in northern Oblivia and will disembark at
Puerto Villaroel. By which time I will have travelled 1400km by boat, but only
covered about 600km as the crow flies. The Rio Mamore is wide and muddy and
deep and strong – the journey against the current takes ten days, the journey
back only five. We are surrounded by the forest – dense, impenetrable and
unknowable. Now and then we pass a tiny thatch village or lonely farm or cargo
boat. But otherwise the isolation is almost tangible. Our companions are the
birds (including blue and yellow parrots); the monkeys that screech and yell as
we pass; the capybaras (giant amphibious rodents like overgrown hamsters two
feet long) that paddle about with heads held high; butterflies that flutter by
(black with green polka dots, white with palest lime trimming, sunshine yellow,
black and orange jailhouse stripes); albino-pink dolphins (not as active or
pretty as their saltwater colleagues) that leap and splash and puff; and
zillions of mosquitoes.
There is something
sensuous about this trip. Something about the long slow lazy days. Something
about the heat. Something about sitting on the edge of the barge in costume and
sarong in the early evening and taking a bucket bath out of the river while the
full moon rises over one bank and the red sun sets behind the other. Something
about the dark eyes and taught brown bodies of semi-naked men (quite a lot
about them, actually!). Even something about the less-than-clean conditions
under which we have been living (nothing sterile about this country or these
people).”
Border crossing at Guayaramerin
Guayaramerin
Guayaramerin
On board the Paredes
On board the Paredes
On board the Paredes
On board the Paredes
On board the Paredes
On board the Paredes
On board the Paredes
On board the Paredes