Sucre, Bolivia (Dec 12-14)

I arrived in Sucre at the ungodly hour of 6am on December 12th, only to be greeted by the preternaturally peppy Mike, owner, manager, and one-person staff of Gringo's Rincon hostel. Obviously, the prior claimant of what would soon be my bed still slumbered peacefully, so I settled myself in the kitchen. There I met Nick who told me of his plan to motorcycle down to Patagonia then back up to Alaska with two of his buddies on the bikes they had recently bought. Unfortunately, the wait for all of the appropriate documentation had stranded them in Sucre for three weeks, explaining the presence of the three motorcycles parked in the courtyard of the hostel. ;)



After a while, we became bored with the cocina, and headed up to the terrace above, the loveliest spot in one of the most beautiful hostels in which I have yet stayed. There I discovered that the internet problems that plagued me La Paz were not specific to that city, but rather endemic to all of Bolivia. Several hours later, after settling in and meeting a few more people like Peter, Guy, and Sanjay from London, Claire from Australia, and Nick's two motorcyclist buddies, I headed out with the first four to check out the view of the city from it's best lookout point at Mirador. (Which makes sense, seeing as how Mirador means "lookout".


Mirador did, in fact, afford lovely views of "the white city", known as the most beautiful in Bolivia, a claim which, at least based on my limited experience, seems very much in keeping with the truth.


We stopped at Mirador cafe and had some excellent fresh juices, this being one of my favorite indulgences in South America. Literally, you can get fresh juice anywhere. In every city I have been to, vendors sit on street corners, ready to wring the juice from oranges and grapefruits, to be drunk standing curbside, and nearly every restaurant offers juices mixed with either water or milk. My personal favorite: Pina con leche sin azucar. Pineapple blended with milk without added sugar. That last part is essential. Given the chance, most South Americans will add enough sugar to any meal or beverage to force one into early-onset diabetes.


Anyway, the five of us then hiked it up to the hill above Mirador to see "the Jesus" at the top. No idea if the statue has another name. Despite having been largely acclimatized to the altitude for a full three weeks at this point and being at a much lower altitude than in La Paz, even this small hike still kinda kicked my ass. The view from the top was pretty but half-obscured by the trees. And we discovered, upon trying to get into what we thought was a chapel at the base, that actually a family was squatting in there.


When I noticed my skin getting crispy, we began our descent, only to be barricaded by a pack of dogs chasing some wild pigs, making the most god-awful ruckus you've ever heard. None of us had gotten rabies shots, so we hung back for a while before going the rest of the way.


That night, half of the hostel crowd headed to a tourist restaurant, while another group of us chose a mostly-locals steakhouse. And despite having never seen a steakhouse with white plastic chairs, I was glad of our choice. The wine was cheap but tasty, my bife chorizo hit the spot, there was a crazy-strange yet rather good buffet of sides, and besides, Guy, who went with the other group, got a horrific case of food-poisoning. After the meal, we returned to the hostel terrace and finished the evening over wine and choco-wafers.


The next day, I decided to make the most of a rainy day, and I stayed in bed reading until 1pm. It was glorious. Peter called me a punk for not coming out to the black market, but I couldn't have been happier. I reveled in my free time, only showering in the afternoon and then making it a luxuriously long one, after which, I gave myself a pedicure. Finally, I hauled myself out to the main market. I loved it there. Rows and rows of stalls, selling everything from flowers and fruits to household supplies and electronics to fresh meats, cheeses, and breads. I admit, I leapt back upon encountering a cut of beef that was basically just a cow's nose with what little meat is behind it, but I really hadn't been expecting it!


Later that night, about 12 of us went out for dinner at a beautiful traditional restaurant where I had one of the best meals of my trip so far: medallions of pejerrey, a Bolivian freshwater fish, in a lemon wine sauce with stuffed tomatoes. Honestly, my mouth is watering just remembering it.

The next day, I went exploring on my own, mostly just wandering around the city. I had a mediocre lunch at a place Julia had recommended, but I'm still not sure if it was actually the right place. The best part about it was a very talented saxophone player wandering in uninvited and playing almost an entire set of some of my favorite jazz standards like "Nature Boy." It was the first time I had chosen to tip someone who came up to me while I was eating in a restaurant in Bolivia, a fairly common occurrence. But usually its a kid who just yells "Give me money!" in Spanish.








At the end of the day, I arranged my travel plans to Uyuni for the next day with Guy and someone else from the hostel who were headed the same way and called it an early night.

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Location:Sucre, Bolivia