We planned a travelling timeout in colonial Sucre. Take a break; have an unpack -recharge our backpacking batteries ready for the next chapter of adventures.
After we left the sky-high salt flats behind us, we headed for the slightly lower Sucre (2750m) which was a physical relief. We could breathe easy again and the uphill roads became less of an obstacle.
The nation of Bolivia was founded in Sucre and the "Declaration of Independence" was signed here. Even though Sucre is not the Bolivian capital anymore, it is still considered the constitutional capital and the Supreme Court is located here.
I fell in love straight away: the sunny weather, cobbled streets, terracotta roofs and white colonial buildings - it is just like Spain.
But, of course, we were still very much in Bolivia: women in voluminous skirts and long plaits serve fresh orange juice from street carts; young working children selling sweets or asking for 1 Boliviano off tourists; and absolutely everything being sold in and around the chaotic mercado central.
After having holes drilled through our bedroom wall and Med receiving an electric shock from a light-switch, we moved to the family-run guesthouse "La Dolce Vita" and it was flawless, with it's charming sun terrace and a courtyard. It's the little things in life I appreciate, like the cute, labelled pots to stand up the bags of milk Bolivia produces. We ate from the central market, which seemed to have Bolivia’s entire supply of fresh fruit and veg, because we certainly hadn’t seen any of it anywhere else.
For the first few days, we dropped our sightseeing momentum and just walked. Sucre is perfect for wandering around and exploring, the only problem is the narrow, cobbled streets get very crowded at lunchtime when everyone heads home to eat the main meal of the day with their family. Even the teenagers; it's a revelation.
Med and I both enrolled into Sucre Spanish School. I wanted to brush up on what I had learnt and Med wanted to stop relying on me to get by. They also helped me to find afternoon volunteering at a community centre in rural Sucre. So I had a full working day for the first time in eight and a half months - it was exhausting!
Charlotte (another volunteer) and I had to get a bus to the centre (made tricky by the constant transport and medic strikes while we were there). Buses in Sucre also defy all laws of physics in as much that they are built to take 30 people at the absolute maximum (including those lying on top of each other) but somehow manage to cram about 60 in and three bags of potatoes. It was fun, exchanging grins with creased-skinned, Quechuan ladies who were fascinated by our presence on the bus.
Volunteering itself was a challenge, both linguistically and organisationally. In the afternoons, the centre welcomes children from the surrounding, rural area to come in after school. We were left to it, almost running the centre as the women in charge locked themselves away in the office. For the first hour we had to help with their homework, the homework they wouldn't have time or space to do in their mostly-Quechuan homes.
My knowledge of long division and fractions is pretty rusty in English these days, so trying to do this in Spanish was as challenging as it was amusing. I usually helped out little Marisol, who didn't like doing her homework and needed one-on-one supervision, but handwriting and numbers were more manageable for me.
It was always a relief when the homework was done and the fun began! We played games outside on the basketball court overlooking the valley, and I tried teaching dancing to some of the older girls, who seemed more interested in copying sexy, music video dancing than anything else!
It was a challenge that I was sad to turn my back on as we left Sucre for La Paz. I miss their giggles, brown eyes, dusty skin and energy.
 |
| A hat party |
The nation of Bolivia was founded in Sucre and the "Declaration of Independence" was signed here. Even though Sucre is not the Bolivian capital anymore, it is still considered the constitutional capital and the Supreme Court is located here.
I fell in love straight away: the sunny weather, cobbled streets, terracotta roofs and white colonial buildings - it is just like Spain.
 |
| The medic's of Sucre protest |
After having holes drilled through our bedroom wall and Med receiving an electric shock from a light-switch, we moved to the family-run guesthouse "La Dolce Vita" and it was flawless, with it's charming sun terrace and a courtyard. It's the little things in life I appreciate, like the cute, labelled pots to stand up the bags of milk Bolivia produces. We ate from the central market, which seemed to have Bolivia’s entire supply of fresh fruit and veg, because we certainly hadn’t seen any of it anywhere else.
For the first few days, we dropped our sightseeing momentum and just walked. Sucre is perfect for wandering around and exploring, the only problem is the narrow, cobbled streets get very crowded at lunchtime when everyone heads home to eat the main meal of the day with their family. Even the teenagers; it's a revelation.
Med and I both enrolled into Sucre Spanish School. I wanted to brush up on what I had learnt and Med wanted to stop relying on me to get by. They also helped me to find afternoon volunteering at a community centre in rural Sucre. So I had a full working day for the first time in eight and a half months - it was exhausting! |
| Marisol and me |
Volunteering itself was a challenge, both linguistically and organisationally. In the afternoons, the centre welcomes children from the surrounding, rural area to come in after school. We were left to it, almost running the centre as the women in charge locked themselves away in the office. For the first hour we had to help with their homework, the homework they wouldn't have time or space to do in their mostly-Quechuan homes.
My knowledge of long division and fractions is pretty rusty in English these days, so trying to do this in Spanish was as challenging as it was amusing. I usually helped out little Marisol, who didn't like doing her homework and needed one-on-one supervision, but handwriting and numbers were more manageable for me.
It was always a relief when the homework was done and the fun began! We played games outside on the basketball court overlooking the valley, and I tried teaching dancing to some of the older girls, who seemed more interested in copying sexy, music video dancing than anything else!
It was a challenge that I was sad to turn my back on as we left Sucre for La Paz. I miss their giggles, brown eyes, dusty skin and energy.
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