El Choro

It was such a strange day in La Paz, absolutely no one on the streets, no cars, no people, nothing was open. Only in the morning when people were gathering on streetcorners with their flags and banners for the march up to El Alto were people around, and then they marched off and it was quiet. Protests are mainly about the possibility of moving the capital- the rich whites in the south are in favor, the poor and indigenous of La Paz and elsewhere are against. (apparently the march drew 2 million people) Its pretty depressing to be in the worlds greatest democracy and have such an uninvolved populace. We´d probably vote for the new capital on a reality show. We did eat at a good Arab place that was open, I suppose they didnt care whether the capital stayed in La Paz or moved. (and if anyone has a good mujadara recipe, please send it to me) I can´t imagine Americans taking to the streets the way the people here do for anything. But anyway, we began our Choro Trek the next day.

The Choro Trek travels for three days from the high mountains above la paz down to the sweaty jungle region of the Yungas, and even better than that, is almost entirely downhill. Oh yeah, and was paved with smooth stones 1000 years ago by the incans. (and in many spots in better shape than the streets in downtown boston) It even retains some original stone and wood bridges over the rivers flowing eastward toward the Amazon from the Andes. The trail begins on an extremely steep and rocky mountain pass, where we began to head down passing caravans of llamas and alpacas heading upward, driven by locals in bright colored weavings, and some of the only people I´ve ever seen wearing legwarmers justifiably. It had a real Lord of the Rings epic feel on the way down, with a bit of Herzog´s Aguirre Wrath of God thrown in. We made it down the steep part, passing the stone remains of an incan waystation, and headed into more grassy green pasture land with old stone houses with thatched roofs and walls penning in sheep and alpacas. We decended into a clouds, or fog anyway, and it felt like we could have been in scotland were it not for the occasional glimpse of enormous mountains through fog breaks.

Took a brief stop in our guides town, an Aymara village in the valley which has probably changed little in the last 1000 years. They still raise alpacas, grow quinua and potatos, and make chuno (freeze dried potatos), and still speak Aymara. Guzman and alejandro, the two brothers in their 50´s who were our guides greeted everyone we encountered with winusakari, an aymara greeting.

By the end of the first day we had descended enough to be wearing t shirts, the vegetation had become tropical and lush, and if the temperature didnt tell us we were in the jungle, the mosquitos did. We made camp in a little stone village of about five houses, a few hours of electricity and in a lovely setting next to the river. No running water per se, but they ingenious had run an extremely long hose from higher up the river waterfall to provide a flow of water in the town. Food was good, tents and sleeping bags we rented a bit short and clearly made for for the height of the average Bolivian. The stars were incredible, could make out the scorpio constellation perfectly, exciting to see a real southern hemisphere constellation. Slept well overall to the sounds of villagers chatting away in Aymara and the wild sounds of the jungle birds and other creatures.

Arose the next day to hike through more jungle, past calla lillies and giant yellow flowers, wild strawberries and tropical butterfly meadows. We wound around some extremely high ridgelines with views back over snowy peaks and ahead toward deeper jungle and hundred foot cascading waterfalls. It looked a lot like how I imagine Colombia, (which I suppose is how Colombia looks in Hollywood movies). You could smell the heady funky smell of jungle rot, and the temperatures were a welcome relief from the coldness of La Paz and the Altiplano. The few towns we passed had almost nothing save for a few banana trees, and a couple shacks looking rather precariously perched on the jungly cliffsides. On the third day we stopped at the Japanese house, three days´ hike from anywhere a tiny little 70 year old Japanese man lived whose hunchback was almost a complete 90 degrees. He had an incredible view and wonderful gardens there, but I couldnt help but wonder why he had decided this spot in Bolivia to move to some 40 years ago. South America was once infamous for its hiding Nazis, and I wondered a bit about this fellow as well.

Finally we arrived to chairo, where we bathed in the freezing river and headed back toward to La Paz in a car that broke down repeatedly. An amazing trek overall, and I´d recommend our guides who grew up in the valley and know all its twists and turns and characters as well.

Attempted to fly to the Amazon bright and early this morning 600 , only to be told around 130 that our flight was cancelled. Couldnt even get a cab to our hotel because of more demonstrations so had to walk. Oh well, here now post nap and feeling halfway human again. With any luck we´ll make the Amazon tomorrow.