Oruro - back on the bikes and into nowhere

Happy New Year Everyone!

Bolivia has arrived. It’s been an eventful week. Spending New Year’s eve in La Paz turned out to be fun, if not memorable. We had read warnings about being careful of the random fireworks that locals seem to have a passion for on this occasion (any occasion from what we can tell). We thought we would be spared the brunt of it from our hostal’s rooftop-terrace party, which provided fantastic views of the chaos in the city. It was quite spectacular to see hundreds if not thousands of fireworks light up the sky as far as we could see. It was pretty amazing – until the guy next to us lit something up that seem to backfire and exploded in the crowd. Then he did it again, just in case we missed it! Lots of smoke, and screaming from all the gringos. I guess we just don’t have the fireworks gene they do. Luckily no one got hurt, and in the end, fun was had by all. Nothing like bringing in New Year’s with a bang (and a little smoke inhalation).

Despite the late night, we were itching to get out of town and back on the road. The 6:30 am watch alarm came early on New Year’s day, but we hopped to it and packed up our rigs. The 4-day ride south out of La Paz, into nowhere Bolivia, and then to the city of Oruro was rather enlightening in many ways.  On a side note, we have both been dealing with “intestinal issues” since arriving in Bolivia, which zaps the energy out of you and makes for some hard biking at times. Something crawled inside of me back in Copa and did an excellent job of turning my colon inside out. Amy’s detailed descriptions of her side-of-the-road movements have been most entertaining as well. Ah hey, you aren’t really traveling if you aren’t dealing with the joys of explosive diarrhea. All part of the fun!

So, middle of nowhere Bolivia. Hmmm, so far, the roads are bad, the weather is bad, and the accom-food infrastructure is bad. Not a great mix – in fact, those are the three big things you want out of cycle touring, with roads being a critical go-no-go situation for us. While Bolivia seems to be inching forward in road development, the reality is that only about 8% of the roads in the country are paved. We had hoped that the major centres would be connected with decent roads, but the other reality is that there are varying degrees of what we call “paved”. The route from La Paz to Oruro was great in places, but heinous in others, and downright dangerous much of the time, mostly due to the seemingly endless construction.

While the word “construction” might sound innocuous, it’s very different from the few kms of “construction” one encounters in North America. Rather, “construction” here applies to the entire route stretching hundreds of kms, and, seemingly to be in the same state it was 5 or 10 yrs ago (judging from blogs written in 2008 where the term “construction” was also used – and interestingly, we didn’t see one construction-type person actually working on the road anywhere). Long story short is that we just aren’t set up for gravel roads, or those under construction. We will abandon Amy’s road bike and skinny tires on the side of the road in a broken rusting heap if there is much more of what we just did. Unfortunately, our intel (reception guy in hostel) tells us that the roads get worse from here, and that there are no paved roads stretching to the border of Argentina. That also seems to be the conclusion of my google research. Then there’s the weather. Bolivia in the rainy season. Think Nelson in November...on dirt roads. OK, who planned this trip anyway? J So hmmm, might be time for plan B. Problema: there is no plan B just yet.

All whiny complaints aside (I haven’t even reviewed Amy’s opinion on the lovely accom situations we have run into; the word “shithole” is being tossed around rather loosely these days), cycling through rural Bolivia is an eye-opener. The vastness and starkness of the Altiplano is surpassed only by the hardiness and resilience of the people. We are continually humbled, and somewhat embarrassed, to be complaining about the wet and the cold, while clad head to foot in the finest MEC outer wear, while gazing out over a field of women working the soil in a downpour with only a shawl strung across their shoulders. They seem oblivious to the weather (or simply have no choice).

On that note, the indigenous women are truly the symbol of this vast place, and should be immortalized on their flag. They are definitely a cultural highlight and a defining image for us. With their bowler hats and aguayo (the colourful blanket used as a carryall backpack for transporting everything from babies to firewood), it would be hard to imagine an iconic photograph of Bolivia without them. Ironically however, the standard outfit donned by Indigenous women here (Bowler hat, skirt, chompa [sweater], aguayo) was only recently imposed upon them by the King of Spain in the early 18^th century. One can only assume they got used to it, and now enjoy the look. Thank god. The men are boring (western clothing).

At the moment we’re sitting cozy in our room in Oruro (population 200K), complete with decent bed, hot shower, and satellite TV. That’s another eye-opener: the contrast between downtown city X and rural nowhere. In a matter of hours we went from dirt floors and no running water to skinny jeans and i-phones. It’s a real head spinner. The hard facts are that the majority of Bolivians live below their own definition of poverty, and according to the Gini inequality index Bolivia is the 8^th most unequal (income) country in the world. You either have nothing including teeth and water, or you drive a Ford Explorer and your kids complain when their smart phone becomes outdated.  
 

So plan B for Bolivia. Not sure on that just yet. We’re working on the options and will keep you posted. For now, another Nescafe...oh ya. Feliz Año Nuevo!