Transition in the Proud City of Civil Unrest

After my tour through the Bolivian salt flats I had to take an all night bus (on more unpaved roads) to the city of Sucre - where my coworker had gone earlier to see his grandparents and recover from a cold. When we bought the bus tickets much earlier, the office had told us the bus would arrive in Sucre at 4am. When I arrived in Sucre at 6:30am, my coworker was still at the bus station, waiting for me to arrive. He informed me that he had come down with a nasty case of bronchitis and it was a good idea he had decided to skip the salt falts and rest at his grandparent`s place.

Sucre was to be a transitional stop. Staying just long enough so my coworker could visit the other side of his family before getting back to La Paz. I had no real desire to stay here (or even stop here), but once I arrived I was very much impressed with the whitewashed city. It`s considered the jewel of Bolivia and I could see why immediately. UNESCO declared it a Cultural Heritage site in 1991 and the city is full of history. Back when Potosi was the richest city in the Americas because of its silver mining, the residents eventually grew tired of its high elevation and the younger people started moving down to Sucre for its preferable climate and elevation. Families moved here to have their children in a cleaner environment, and as more families arrived and those families grew, the need for schools and jobs made the city larger. The silver mines of nearby Potosi made it a wealthy city. After some time Sucre grew so large it became the capitol of Bolivia.

As the city of La Paz, to the northwest, grew in size and wealth (because of the increasing price of its tin) and Sucre became less important (as silver prices dropped) a civil war started between the two cities over which should be the capital city of Bolivia. La Paz won making it the defunct capital. Sucre remained the judiciary capital and the the Supreme Court still convenes here. But there is still strife as the people of Sucre continue to urge the country, and the president they hate, to return the title of capital city to its original place. Demonstrations are happening all the time. In fact, I missed a big demonstration by only a few days when the Supreme Court started the new year. Cars were burned and bottles thrown as a huge group of protesters marched through the streets. The only evidence that remained was a burned out car in front of the Supreme Court when I arrived.

While I was there my coworker and I stayed in his grandfather`s 2nd home; a home away from home where he once tended to his large garden behind the house. When the house was built it was in the country side, even though it was only a 10 minute drive from his original house. Now the city has surrounded the house (a huge soccer stadium is blocks away and can be seen over the house walls). But the large garden remains and is still tended to by a man who lives at the house and maintains the crops for abuelo. The fresh fruits and vegetables that were once grown for family dinners and for friends, are still grown and used for family lunches and snacks. Walking through the large garden, with its variety of crops, I lost the sense of being in a city completely. My coworker showed me the above ground cement pool the grandfather had built to be used for his grandkids and as an irrigation system for the plants. He told me stories of growing up and spending vacations and summers here. Now tall apartment building surround the home, all must be enjoying their view down into the garden.

When it was time for lunch we would cab over to the orginal house and join his grandparents and aunt for a large traditional meal. The helpers (every family has a maid to clean and cook) made some of the best meals I have had during my travels. Abuelo would recount stories from his life and my coworker would translate for me. Afterwards Abuelo and Abuela would walk the halls of the house for exercise. My coworker and I went out to explore the city and its historic streets and buildings. Later in the afternoon we would return for coffee and tea with the family. At night we discovered the Joy Ride Bar, a bar mentioned to me by the aid workers from my Salt Falts trip in Uyuni. The bar had great music and the best mojitos I have ever had (the secret seemed to be the mint shrub they stuffed in the drink).

At night I crashed hard - needing to catch up on sleep missed during the over night bus rides and the tours through the deserts. On the third day we met the Abuelos for breakfast and a long tearful goodbye - they didn`t know when they would see my coworker again. And then tia took us to the airport. We had agreed the 14 hour bus ride to La Paz was out of the question when I $65 plane ticket only took an hour. By lunch I was back in La Paz, the city I had spent less than 24 hours in just before Christmas. And I was also back with the tios and primos from my holidays in Tarija. It was good to see the family again. And it was time to explore the highest capital in the world (even if it wasn`t considered by Sucre residents to be the real capital).

For pictures from my time in Sucre, follow this link:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/15233918@N00/sets/72157603705342804/