The Large Cities: OK, we only got to La Paz and Santa Cruz.  The other two large cities of note are Sucre and Cochabamba.  Oddly, returning to La Paz felt like I was returning home.  I know, I know, I was only there for a week before heading down to Santa Cruz, but what can I say.  As wonderful as it was to spend three weeks in the warm; no, hot and humid, embrace of that Amazonian City, I find La Paz far more interesting from a photographic point of view.  You just can’t beat the steep and winding streets for interesting compositions.  Also, there is far more colour than in Santa Cruz, as well as a variety of buildings of different heights, the surrounding mountains and the quality of light at either end of the day is just amazing.  If only they would do something about the air pollution, I could live with the constant honking of car horns.

The Overhead Sun: I know this might sound “so what” to those of you that have traveled lots, but one thing I observed the very first day I arrived in La Paz in late October, was that this was the first place and time in my life where I’d been anywhere where the noon day sun was almost directly overhead, on it’s way south for the summer.  Also, although there are many variables, such as altitude and geography, it takes a little getting use to the notion that it gets colder the further south one goes, rather than north, like I’ve always been use to.  The night sky was amazing and I had the opportunity, while in San Antonio, to locate the Southern Cross.

Strangest Experience: There I was in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, a colonial Spanish city, and walked into an Irish Pub, with the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Californication playing over the in-house loud speakers, and ordered a Lasagna de Carne, but the saving grace was the cold Huari, a Bolivian Beer.  No Steam Whistle, but just as welcome.

Safety and Security: I was warned about openly carrying my camera in plain view, in certain neighborhoods in La Paz and told outright that Santa Cruz was a very dangerous place.  Now I wasn’t about to outright dismiss the advice and certainly it pays to be prudent, however, and this may be naive of me, but I honestly think that people over react.  There is a fear of the other, which at times I think is more dangerous than the perceived threat.  I’m a photographer, the whole point is to have my camera out.  Keeping it in my camera bag or worse in the hotel room, is pointless.  I’m always careful and aware of my surroundings, even in my home town of Toronto.

When walking around, I try to be discreet and cradle the camera in my arms to disguise it, but I watch people’s eyes as they walk by and I clearly see their eyebrows go up.  I was told that it wasn’t just a matter of keeping my hands firmly on my equipment, but that I could have someone pull a knife on me.  Now that would be frightening, but fortunately, I didn’t experience anything remotely threatening.

No doubt the language was a huge advantage for me, but generally I found people to be friendly, if not always the greatest ambassadors for their cities.  Try and get directions and it seems that no one knows where anything is, not even the taxi drivers.  On my second to last night in La Paz, I was looking for a restaurant where I could order Llama, that’s the relative to the camel not the jolly old monk in the orange Kasaya.  Anyway, I stopped in front of the Plaza Hotel, on the main pedestrian strip, Paseo del Prado, to ask two policeman where I could find the Marbeilla, which I had been told should be close by.  Well they didn’t have a clue.  I could’ve been asking them for directions to Casa Loma.  I walked a block and a half further and there it was.  It was on their beat!!

Racism: I think this goes back to a point I made earlier about a fear of the other.  Although I never witnessed anything overt, there is some internal resentment between different indigenous groups.  Also, be it politically driven or not, I think that some people don’t quite get that the tourist is bringing in money.  I add politically motivated, because there is currently a Government led my Evo Morales that likes to play the evil foreigner card.  Anyone arriving from abroad and wanting to invest, must want to “steal what’s ours”.  Maybe a truly democratic political system with checks and balances would go a long way to prevent, if not completely avoid the corruption that can lead to stealing of resources for personal gain, so enough with the broad brush.

Things I Didn’t Lose: My Notebook in the small restaurant in Copacabana, my Camera on the Island of the Sun on Lake Titicaca and my Monopod on the bus returning from Copacabana.

Things I Did Lose: My Red Baseball Cap and grey Hoody, or what as a child, we called a Kangaroo, because of the… ya… the pouch.  Actually, I didn’t lose it, so much as someone liberated it.

Challenges: No one there is follicly challenged, so I stood out when sans Red Toque, despite being vertically challenged, like most paisanos.

Well there you have it, some last thoughts, although I doubt they will be the last I think about Bolivia, the people I met and the wonderful experiences I had.  OK, one last thought, it’s a long flight, the air fare can be expensive (try the off season) but once you get there, and traveling with Canadian, Australian or U.S. $$, the British £ or the Euro, it’s very inexpensive to eat, move around and visit some of nature’s awesome sites.  .  Oh Ya! Learn to drive a Standard Transmission and get your Drivers License, you never know when you’ll be asked to take the wheel.

Some parting shots of the chaotic knots, the colourful buildings in La Paz and a self-portrait.  The rest will have to be face to face.

Buenas noches Illimani.

Not to take away from others I’ve met here, but we recently visited a Spanish volunteer, Jesus Torrero Bustos, in San Antonio de Lomerio and his story most closely matches my pre-conceptions of the experience.  Jesus recently completed his first of a two year posting in San Antonio, a small rural community that gained access to the electric grid only six short months ago.  Previously, only the Municipal Buildings, Community Radio and Church, had diesel generators to provide limited hours of electricity.  There are no telephone land-lines or cellular service, internet goes with out saying is a dream, and although there are a few municipally installed public-access hand-pumps scattered around the town, those who can afford to do so, have small water towers in the court yards behind their homes.  A water truck periodically visits San Antonio and those who can afford it, pay to have their cisterns topped up.

Jesus arrived here with a mandate to provide training to existing Cooperatives and guidance to others wanting to organize and take advantage of financial assistance provided by the various levels of government.  By offering workshops through his position with the Municipal Government, ranging from basic Administrative and Organizational skills to developing Marketing Strategies, he early on recognized an even more fundamental need; a Financial Education.  Having most of their needs met, Jesus observed that there was very little long term thinking in the Chiquitanian tradition or educational experience.  The issue is far more complex than I have space for here, to elaborate on, however, in a nutshell, when finding themselves with a bit of extra cash, the towns people are most likely to spend in quickly, rather than consider saving it to repair the roof next year or reinvesting it in their side businesses.  See, we are more alike than different.

Drawing on his undergrad degree in Pedagogy Psychology and Masters in Human Resources, Jesus quickly came to the conclusion that guiding adults in the community through the process of registering businesses and offering workshops was all, well and good, but targeting school children is the only way to make long term, attitudinal changes.  Coincidentally, this past year, the Bolivian Ministry of Education tabled legislation to implement changes to the curriculum and Jesus was approached, through his employer the village of San Antonio, to research teaching methods that could be used to introduce that new curriculum.

A year later, a series of workbooks, one for each of twelve school grades has been written, designed and published.  The material deals with everything from Money Management, to developing a Social Conscience with an emphasis on empathy and the environment.  Until the Ministry of Education, passes their legislation and obliges School Boards to adopt the new curriculum, whether or not to adopt the new material rests with the individual Principals and Teachers, which isn’t a given.  Fortunately for Jesus, the Secondary School Principal in San Antonio is eager to use the material.  The final and perhaps most difficult challenge for each school Principal, will be securing the funds to purchase one workbook for each and every student, each year.

Because of it’s isolated location, San Antonio is the one community where we spent the most time.  One day to travel each way, from and to Santa Cruz, on a Micro, a small bus seating approximately 40, and standing, who ever was willing to do so for the bumpy five hour ride, and two full days in and around the town.  On the agenda was to accompany Jesus to the nearby community of Palmeria and that is a story worth telling.  He secured one of the vehicles owned by the Town Hall, for use by employees, and requisitioned the diesel fuel that would get us there and back.  Only thing missing was a driver.  There were five of us making the forty kilometre round trip and, not surprisingly, the 4 X 4 had a standard transmission.  A quick show of hands left me as the only one experienced to drive the vehicle.  Eeee Gats!!

It wasn’t the first time in my life that I’ve had to manoeuvre around tight corners or dodge pot holes, but it was the first time that I had to do it behind the wheel of a vehicle held together with twist ties.  Worst of all, once at the other end of the trip, we discovered that we were without lights, and would have to cut short our visit.  I already knew that their were no mirrors and that the shocks were toast, but a quick inventory confirmed that we had windshield wipers but no way to activate them, no door windows, I just thought they were cranked down until I discovered that… you got it, there were no cranks and no horn, important for driving along a narrow, one and half lane, dirt road.  We made it back to San Antonio stirred but not shaken and with a slight glow in the sky, as well as our faces.

The next day was taken up sitting in on a Marketing Workshop and visiting small businesses.  However, the highlight for us came later that evening when Anouk and I were asked to be interviewed on the Community Radio.  Good or bad, we were up against a televised Football Game, so it’s difficult to say how large our listening audience was.

Unlike our arrival in San Antonio, which was under the cover of a star filled sky, the return trip to Santa Cruz, was in full daylight.  There’s an interesting Canadian connection to the department of Santa Cruz.  Over the past twenty-five years, there has been a very large migration of Mennonites from Saskatchewan to La Chiquitania.  Go figure.  It’s like the last untamed frontier, or something.  However, I’m making it sound far more romantic than I should.  That’s because, as farming communities, the Mennonites are largely responsible for the disappearance of much of the natural ground cover between Santa Cruz and Robore, near the border with Brazil, a distance of approximately 450 km.  It works something like this.  They purchase huge tracks of land, as flat as our western prairies, clear them to grow every crop imaginable, and because this area experiences very low rainfall, once they’ve exhausted these organically poor soils, they move along to the next parcel of land.  There’s no doubt that they are producing great quantities of food, but because there are no controls on land use practices, the price, in the long term, will be left for others to pay.  Returning to Santa Cruz, from our trip to Puerto Suarez, the previous week, one could see clouds of smoke rising in the distance, and the acrid smell, at times became quite thick, indicating that large areas of scrub land were being cut, burned and prepared for tilling or pasture land.

Casi me he puesto al día, aunque si quisiera, tampoco se trata de que cuente cada detallito, hay que dejar algo por contar en persona.  Lo cual en las palabras del gran Filosofo Arnold Schwarzenegger “Hasta mañana baby.”

It doesn’t take any more than a few minutes to cross the village and as we reach the far end, which leads to a protected conservation area with hiking trails up to El Mirador – La Antesala Del Cielo, a wonderful lookout high above the surrounding forest, we pull over next to a new, well kept, small brick building.  We step out of our van to be greeted by half a dozen, friendly woman ranging in age from the mid twenties to late sixties.  Emphasis on the latter years.

We’ve arrived at a small cooperative where both the Cusi and Copaibo Oil, which we saw harvested earlier in our trip, arrives to be processed, packaged and shipped out.  It is really wonderful to witness how a simple chain of products and a group of people, who don’t even know each other, can coordinate their efforts to produce something of value, with minimal means yet with a wide vision.

Until recently, these women were producing a line of products ranging from medicinal remedies to personal care products, which were not all together unique.  However, what is unique is that they were willing to consider that there is a better way to do it.  That their traditional remedies and ways could benefit from a new approach.  Another of CUSOs initiatives was to provide small groups of people, such as these woman, with training to improve the quality of their products, to develop long term planning and administrative skills, and to consider expanding their markets to reach beyond the communities in their local traveling circles.

Even for us, it is at times difficult to consider that how we’ve always done things, is not necessarily the best way.  Times change, technologies change and as Einstein once said “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”.  These women had been gathering in each others homes to process the raw materials and to prepare the final products, but that wasn’t going to cut it if they were to improve their production methods and increase the income they could generate.  To reach new markets they would have to change, almost everything.

CUSO supplied experts on the ground who provided the practical training, while other NGOs provided some of the funding that was necessary for equipment (basic as it was), and with these two assets in hand, the woman were able to approach the municipal government for support.  First on the list, to secure a new facility where they could set themselves up to produce a consistently high quality product using modern techniques for hygiene and where the quantities of raw material going into the process could be measured to more accurately, forecast their profits.

Not to in anyway minimize the “facilities”, but it was truly endearing the way they led us through the door to their LAB, and dawned their white lab coats, hair nets and masks.  I should back up and say that their municipal representative negotiated on their behalf, with their small hospital, to obtain a two year, free of charge lease, on a small but new building that was not being used, in which they could establish their growing enterprise.

What they’ve accomplished in the few months since they moved into their new facilities, was quite impressive.  Most of all their attitudes were in tune with the challenges they have ahead of them.  Keenly aware of the importance that the distant ends of the production chain become acquainted with each other, CUSO is attempting to make arrangements for some of these women, pressing the Cusi Oil, and the men harvesting the Copaibo oil.  While listening to the conversation regarding the costs involved in getting everyone together, the temptation to reach into my own pocket was incredibly strong.  The cost for a two way bus ride, lodging for one night and meals would amount to roughly 120 Bolivianos each, which translates into approximately CDN $18.00.  None-the-less, they would have to choose how many and who could attend, this significant meeting since the expenses would have to be drawn on the profits from everyone’s efforts.

I have described CUSOs philosophy as one of sending people not money, however, there is some funding provided, all be it minimal, for project support, and an effort is being made to find the financial assistance to send a few of these woman on the day-long bus ride to San Ignacio.  If as you read this, you too find yourself wanting to reach for a $20.00 bill, remember that for every dollar donated to CUSO, CIDA kicks in another nine.  That $20.00 instantly becomes $200.00.  Go ahead, give in to the temptation.

Before saying goodbye to Las Santiagueñas, the name brand, we accompanied Sofia Frias to Puerto Suarez, a community next to the Bolivian Marshes.  A large navigable expansive wetland on the border with Brazil.  In addition to filling orders from retailers in Santa Cruz and nearby communities, Sofia will periodically travel, sometimes accompanied, to Puerto Suarez, to set up a display on a sidewalk in the market area, to sell her wares.  Her enthusiasm for the products their cooperative produces, came through naturally in her ability to applaud the medicinal qualities and convince others of their benefits.

After spending the better part of the morning in the market, it was time to find something cold to drink and answer our hunger pains.  Alberto, our driver, had been to Puerto Suarez often, and suggested a restaurant next to the water.  After almost a week of rice, fried potatoes and tough beef, we were all looking forward to an alternative.  The fish on the menu was from the waters of the marshlands and so was the… alligator.  In my quest to try something different it was a toss up between two fish I’d never heard of and a third, Piranha.  However, I opted for the alligator.  Let me just say, I had no idea what to expect, and I would gladly have it again.  The meat was white and tender and had no distinctly strong taste, rather taking on what ever it was prepared with.

Unas ultimas palabras.  Desde que llevo en Bolivia, se me ha preguntado varias veces, siempre por otros voluntarios, si me choque la pobreza, como si debería de sentir remordimiento o estar avergonzado por tener tanto mas que otros.  Ahora, no pretendo que en muchos aspectos, y no solo en los pueblecitos, no hay escasez de algunas cosas básicas, como agua potable, pero debo ver la pobreza de otra manera.  No mido la pobreza por lo que uno tiene o deja de tener, y menos por comparación a lo que tengo yo, que ya me parece bien poco.  Tiendo a mirar más a las necesidades y menos a los deseos, mas a la alegría en las vidas cotidianas y menos al aislamiento físico, mas a las formas de poder ayudar, que en los obstáculos.

Si es verdad que en Canada tengo electricidad y acceso al Internet en cualquier lugar, y también tengo acceso a servicios médicos y agua potable, pero esta gente tiene sus familias y amigos cerca.  También tienen muchas menos preocupaciones económicas.  Sus necesidades básicas las cubren sin dinero y no faltan por comida.  Hay mucho que pudieran cambiar si quisiesen, pero o no le dan la importancia que le damos nosotros, ni se molestan en hacer nada de ello.  A lo que voy es que a veces lo que nosotros vemos como pobreza es muy relativo.

Seguro que seguiré dando le vueltas a este tema por mucho tiempo, tanto durante lo que queda de mi estancia en Bolivia como en los meses y años que vienen.

While in Ottawa, during our Pre-departure training at the CUSO offices, one of the volunteers offered to set up a Facebook Group so that we could follow each other’s adventures.  As has been the case for me, internet isn’t always available and when it is, it isn’t always stable.  Nothing more frustrating than being in the middle of an upload of images and loosing all the work.  Still, I can’t or shouldn’t complain.  The fraternity of Brigadiers has been posting and uploading and it’s great to hear from disparate parts of the world.  It’s been fun to read final messages from departure points, first impressions and cold realities.  From reading the challenges faced elsewhere, I’ve come to realize how different our assignment in Bolivia has been from those elsewhere.

Right off the top, the projects we’ve been documenting don’t involve schools, hospitals or extreme poverty.  We’ve visited with people who maybe struggling to improve their lots in life, but no one is going hungry.  Hope is, none-the-less, very important and providing people with the tools necessary to make wise decisions, may prevent them from sliding into the dire situations faced somewhere else.  Our projects have focused on improving management of natural resource, on a small scale, empowering small communities and helping young people to be less reliant on hand outs.

In an earlier post, I mentioned that the harvest of Almonds, Cusi & Copaibo Oil was just the beginning of the chain and that the entire process was designed to stay within the hands of the local communities.  Enter stage left, San Ignacio de Velasco.

A rather large town, San Ignacio is another of the Jesuit Missions and it too could easily double as a movie set.  Fact is that not far from here, in El Parque Nacional – Noel Kempff Mercado, were filmed scenes from The Mission, with Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons, specifically the dramatic water falls.  Road was too rough to take a quick look see.

Located in San Ignacio is Minga, which closely translates into English as Cooperative.  Minga is where the almonds collected in Palmerito end up, to be sorted, roasted, salted and packaged.  A relatively unknown product for many Bolivians, marketing the almonds is still largely by word of mouth.  Supply is keeping ahead of demand and to insure their availability, the raw almonds are stored in large sealed, steel hoppers and process only on an order-by-order arrangement.

Not to suggest that all Canadians are marketing wizards, however, there is a certain lack of sophistication, here, when it comes to self promotion and using existing outlets for spreading the word.  This once again, is one of the areas that CUSO is very involved in.  By providing volunteers with an expertise in the areas of identifying markets, developing strategies and managing workflows, CUSO, through their local counterparts, is helping to build self-confidence in the local people, so that agencies like CUSO can move on to other projects.

As for the almonds, the packaging is well designed and would look right at home in any Canadian specialty shop, the almonds taste great salted, unsalted and yes even covered in a wonderful, bitter, dark-chocolate.  Did I mention that these are larger than the almonds we’re familiar with.  I know, I already had you with the chocolate, didn’t I?  How many boxes would you like to order at only CDN $3.00 each?  Sorry, no chocolate covered Alligators.

Next stop on our tour lies 270 km. and an eight hour drive to the south, in Santiago.  Enough said about the roads, however, the highlight of the trip, which we started as the sun was setting around six thirty, was a small wooden bridge, four hours into the drive, on which we stopped.  Alberto, our driver, got out his flashlight and I mine and we rolled down our windows.  He said to point the light along the water surface of the slow moving river and against the charcoal-black water we could see dozens of pairs of small white reflectors staring back at us.  It was my first encounter with wild alligators and was both fascinating and a bit eerie all at once.

For the rest of the trip the winding road continued through very hilly terrain, which was a shame since the night sky prevented us from enjoying the landscape.  By contrast, there was no way to ignore the chorus of night critters that was at times deafening, incredibly loud.  We reached Robore, just short of Santiago, where we stopped for the night, around two thirty in the morning, and met up with Christian, another CUSO volunteer and our guide for this last leg of the tour.

Bueno, os tengo descuidados.  Prometí escribir algo en Castellano, pero llevo unos cuantos “reportajes” sin una sola palabra.  Reconozco que el llegar hasta aquí no es fácil, por cuestión de la distancia, y sinceramente el viajar por la Chiquitania es duro por la condición de las carreteras, pero no dejéis que eso os desanime de considerar lo.  Los pueblecitos tienen su encanto, y la historia de los Jesuitas es muy interesante.

Algo que aprendí por ver la película La Misión, fue la importancia que pusieron los Jesuitas en utilizar la música, aunque eso si, Europea, como manera de crear una conexión con las indígenas.  El legado es que hoy en día, hay se celebra un Festival de Musica Baroca cada año, que atrae músicos de por todo el mundo.  El estudio de música clásica sigue siendo algo muy apreciado y hace unos años, un grupo de músicos Franceses, al descubrir ese interés, especialmente entre los jóvenes, investigaron las fuentes locales para los instrumentos de cuerda.  Se les dirigió a un pueblo casi frontera con el departamento de Beni, cuyo nombre se me ha olvidado.  Al llegar allá, se quedaron tan impresionados con un grupo de artesanos fabricando instrumentos que juntaron los fondos para proporcionar les equipo moderno y mandar les luteros de Francia.  El propósito era mejorar la calidad de sus instrumentos, y hoy en día, el Boliviano, que anteriormente no tenia acceso mas que a instrumentos baratos, de la China, desean, aunque son más caros, los que se fabrican en el departamento de Santa Cruz, por la calidad y por que con la compra esta incluido cualquier reparación o ajuste.

Bueno, hay lo tenéis, una exclusiva en Español.

Eighteen years ago, I spent four months working for the Ministry of Natural Resources, along the James and Hudson Bay coastlines.  I was stationed in Moosonee and in the middle of the Moose River is Moose Factory, a First Nations Reserve.  As you might imagine, life along the Moose River doesn’t change much from year to year, or certainly it didn’t at the time.  Access to the outside world, was either by rail to Cochrane or by air, which was very expensive, to Timmins.  During the summer months, shipments of large bulky supplies would arrive by boat, otherwise a trip to the grocery store, meant a two day trip on the Polar Bear Express to Cochrane and back.

When I arrived in Moosonee, in early May, the ice was still on the river and I discovered that old habits die hard.  It had long been common practice to take refuse on to the ice, in the middle of the river, throughout the winter, and wait for the ice break-up in the spring to carry away the accumulated debris.  To my horror, what had once been a practice that would have been reasonable, when all refuse consisted of organic matter, was still being practised with old cars, appliances and other bulky items.

In La Chiquitania, one long held practice was to harvest oil from the Copaibo Tree.  However, to do so involved hacking a huge notch in to the side of the tree, which pretty well reached the heart wood.  The oil would seep out and the tree would eventually succumb to the injury.  For what might seem like obvious reasons to us, the practice of collecting the oil and selling the product at market, was the furthest thing from the minds of the local people.

Then one day, along came an ingenious volunteer from CUSO, who suggested a less invasive method to collect the oil.  Drawing on his experience, Ulysse suggested a method by which a small hole could be drilled into the tree, a tube inserted and the sap collected.  Sound familiar?

Now, I don’t have to strike my finger with a hammer to know it’ll hurt, but unless someone shows me a better way, I may just abandon the whole notion of using a hammer all together.  When first suggested, the local people were sceptical about the practicality and even the motivation for harvesting the Copaibo Oil but after methodically testing various depths of hole, best placement on the tree and diameter of tubing to use, together, they found the optimum technique and they were off to the races.

The next challenge was to identify a sufficiently large concentration of Copaibo trees, to maximize the effort.  With the use of GIS (Geographic Information Systems) as well as ground surveys, Xiomara another CUSO volunteer identified such an area.  The regional government was then petitioned to declare a large area, north of San Ignacio de Velasco as a forest reserve, where the formalized Association of Copaibo Oil Producers of the Chiquitania will be guaranteed access to a sustainable supply of Copaibo oil, free from the encroachment of Slash & Burn practices, by squatters, to extend cattle grazing pastures.  In June of this year, 330,000 ha. were declared as protected, but what that means in practice, remains to be seen.  There is no shortage of well intentioned legislation in Bolivia, but enforcement is non-existent, fines are minimal and a few Bolivianos can eliminate the paper work all together.

During our visit, it was wonderful to witness an excitement amongst the three men with which we spoke, well aware that they were participating in something new and exciting with a great potential to provide an additional source of income.  Again they listed as their top priority, using the money to help with their children’s education.  The reserve was declared a mere six months ago, and tapping the trees began late in the season.  With all the ground work in place, they are well poised to produce a significant volume of oil in their first full year of production.

I can’t help but reflect on the obstacles that Bolivian’s in general have to overcome, some of their own making and others not.  The infrastructure short fall is huge, the inexperience in transparent governance at all levels runs deep, and a mind set that recognizes the importance of a civil society is beyond the consciousness of many, if not most, Bolivian’s.  On the other side of the ledger is the desire for advanced education and the potential to get it right the first time, by drawing on the lessons learned by their neighbours and the world at large.

After a fascinating day, spent with a group of men optimistic about the future for themselves and their families, we continued along the Jesuit Mission Route to San Ignacio.  The contrast is so great, between the small villages and the larger towns, that it challenges me to describe them.  One travels along, what we would struggle to call a road, and as if rising from the dust appear towns with a bustling main square, streets lined with shops and motorcycles, heading in every direction.  The best I can do is to compare them to a movie set, in the middle of a dessert.

Next stop is Santiago de Chiquitos, where we visit the next chain in the production line.

One last comment before I close up here.  November 11th  is a significant day for me on two accounts.  First, because it is my oldest daughter’s birthday, (imposible to forget) and secondly because it marks Remembrance Day in Canada.  I honour the sacrifices that have been made by thousands of young men and woman on our behalf, by exercising my right to vote at every election and shudder with sadness when I dare imagine putting myself in the place of the families that have endured the loss of a loved one in defending our values and principles.

Lest we forget.

Last Wednesday, we drove east out of Concepcion and headed north for Palmarito de la Frontera, a small village a few hundred kilometers into the forest, where CUSO is involved in developing alternative forestry practices, through a Canadian, international initiative referred to as the Model Forest, which attempts to set international standards for management practices that focus on bio-diversity, water quality and climate change.  Many of you know that I, with the help of family and friends, have planted thousands of trees on a 50ha. property, north of Toronto, for over thirty years, so this subject is very dear to me.

Photographs and written descriptions don’t always provide an accurate picture of a place, and that was certainly the case for what I saw during our bumpy drive to Palmarito.  Hollywood and Disney typically portray a romantic image of “exotic” locations and you may have noticed that I’ve described the landscape we traveled through as forest, not jungle.  Were it not for the wide variety of palm trees, which in our northern climate would be replaced by conifers, the landscape looks much like the rural forests of eastern North America.  Much of what we saw was low scrub, some regeneration and older forests as well.  Nothing in this part of Bolivia is what we might call Old Growth, since the soils are thin, with relatively little rain, and natural forest fires, periodically reset the cycle back to zero.

The fruits and oils provided by these forests, have long been known to the local people, however, in many cases the younger generations regard them as something their grandparents pass the time with, or have lost all connection to.  This is where Ulysse, the CUSO volunteer stepped in, not only to rediscover traditional uses, but to help educate the local people as to their commercial potential and, thereby, provide additional income sources.

In Palmarito, we met a small group of women that have formed a cooperative to harvest two locally found fruits: the Chiquitanian Almond, an indigenous nut similar to but in no way related to the Middle Eastern and European almond, and the Cusi.  Harvesting either of these, has depended, until recently on gathering the naturally growing fruits as they fall to the forest floor.  However in the case of the almond, although occasionally consumed locally, it was not regarded as having a commercial value.  That is to say that it did not become part of the typical fare at the village market or road side stands.

Without getting into too much detail, and roughly speaking, Bolivia is divided into two major ethnic groups.  The folk from the Andes, referred to as Coyas and those from the Amazonia, referred to as Cambas.  This is not my description, but rather openly their own.  The Coyas, perhaps because they come from a harsher climate and environment, are very focused on business, earning without spending, living miserably if necessary.  It is said that a Coya will show up in La Chiquitania with 10 Bolivianos in their pocket, and five years later will have purchased land, so that they can produce more to sell, to purchase more land…  Where as Cambas, perhaps because they live in a very, very warm climate where food is abundant and grows easily, are much more focused on having a good time.

A great challenge for Ulysse has been to convince the Chiquitano to seize the commercial opportunities that exist.  Now one may react by thinking “so what’s wrong with being satisfied?” and it’s a fare question.  However, as the world changes around them, their children, like it or not, are exposed to the outside world.  The parents see the need for their children to receive a basic and higher education, and everyone we spoke with, who was participating in one of the projects we would visit, listed as their top motivation, sending their children to school.  Although education is subsidized, sending a child to University in Santa Cruz, may cost as much as 450 Bolivianos per month.  That may not sound like much when converted to $CDN, however, when the only income they have is generated from the selling of home baked goods or excess produce from their gardens, along the road to passersby, every centavo, is hard come by.

The almond has long been cracked open with a machete and the nut eaten as is.  The challenge for CUSO via the FCBC, was to demonstrate that by harvesting the nuts in large quantities and sending them off to be processed (more on this later, since the entire chain is designed to remain within local hands) their was great potential to exploit the forest without the need to slash and burn it down, for grazing livestock and, thereby, provide for the education of their children.  The soils in this region aren’t very good for large scale farming, however, as the almond is indigenous to the area, areas previously devoid of trees are being replanted with the nut.

The second fruit being harvested in this area of the Chiquitania is from the Cusi, a type of Palm tree which produces large bunches of hardball sized, nuts that when cracked open release a fragrant oil which has long been used, in the region, as a natural body oil.  It is currently being sold as straight oil, however, once there are sufficient quantities, the plan is to market it as an additive for hair-care products.

The work being done by the volunteers here, is truly inspiring.  Be it the forester sharing best practices for forest management, the food processing engineer that designed and manufactured hand-operated tools, fashioned from old car parts, to efficiently crack open rock-hard shells or the Marketing Consultant, helping to identify and develop outlets to sell their 100% Free Trade, Organic products.

I haven’t harped on this ‘till now, however, as I spent time with the people of the Chiquitania, I couldn’t help but see how little it takes to make such a huge difference.  The potential is enormous to change lives in a profound way that respects their integrity and builds their autonomy.  As you follow me over the next few days, I hope that you will consider making a donation, however small, to CUSO via the button to the right of the screen.

Next on the agenda, tapping into good old fashioned Canadian ingenuity.

Have you ever had the sensation that something you’ve been preparing for, for a long time, say months, is always just around the corner, and then around the next corner, and…  Well, last Tuesday, we finally sat down with our key contacts in Santa Cruz, to put together all the pieces of the puzzle: bus and train time-tables, schedules of people in the field, budgets for transportation, food and lodging, when we came to the conclusion that it was going to be near impossible to accomplish what we wanted, based on the original plan.

The only way we could be where we needed, when we needed, was to rent a vehicle.  Yikes!  After a painless conversation with our CUSO contact in La Paz, it was decided to shuffle some money around and hire a car with a driver.  We met with Luver Tuesday morning, discussed our needs and schedule, a price was negotiated, a contract was drawn up and we agreed to leave that same afternoon.  Luver has a small company, that drives, tourists into the Chiquitania and assured us that we would have no problems with the roads vis a vis their vehicle.  I imagined a 4 X 4 with the spare tire on the roof rack and ham radio wip, swaying back and forth next to the extra gas can secured to the rear bumper.  Oh and decals, decals with a distant mountain and a truck loaded with camping gear.  Remember those pre-conceptions?

We were expecting Luver to arrive, as agreed upon earlier in the day, around 3:00pm, but instead Alberto, Luver’s nephew, showed up around 4:00pm in a well used mini-van chock full of stuff, and by that I mean last year’s candy wrappers, empty bottles of water, spare car parts etc. so we would first have to drop by Alberto’s house to make room for all our gear and the long road ahead.  Alberto, who is a Civil Engineer by day, works for a municipality north of Santa Cruz, and wants to buy a house, so his uncle had offered him this opportunity to make some extra bucks, and his boss was generous enough to allow him a few days off.  This opportunity allowed him to earn about a month’s salary in one weak.

After dropping by the Fundacion Para La Conservacion del Bosque Chiquitano (FCBC) to pickup Ulysse, a Forester and Volunteer from Quebec, and who would be our guide on the first leg of the trip, we stopped by Alberto’s place do repack the vehicle.  While we waited, we met his children and his wife offered us some home made caramelized custard, or simply Flan de Huevo as we say in Spanish, and we were off.

The region we were heading into is dotted with seven small communities referred to as the Jesuit Missions, and as rough as the roads are, there is great interest in improving the infrastructure to market the Jesuit Mission Route as a tourist destination.  However, the region is known for more than it’s beautifully restored mission churches.  The Circuit of approximately 900 km. runs through forests rich in natural oils and fruits and we were to have the great privilege of visiting projects supported by CUSO which are helping to preserve those forests, by teaching the local people to harvest rather than cut down their riches.

In the next few days we would discover the Chiquitanian Almond, Cussi Oil, Copaibo Oil and various other natural fruits and ingredients that are making their way from popular usage to commercial shelves, all in an effort to provide a sustainable source of income without destroying the natural environment.

In the short term, our first destination was the mission at Nuestra Señora De La Concepcion, or Concepcion for short.  Now, imagine the roughest bush road you’ve ever travelled, I understand that the road through Québec to Labrador is no picnic, throw in corrugated hard packed mud, clouds of red dust, and you’re half way there.  We left Santa Cruz on a paved road that deteriorated into a crackled surface and in some stretches, we were told that the pavement was missing because it was easier to rip up the asphalt than repair the pot-holes.  The raw materials to manufacture good quality asphalt is not available locally and extremely expensive to import.  So, even though the initiative may exist to build the road infrastructure, it is expensive to maintain.  This, as you might imagine is a huge road block, no pun intended, to marketing the Jesuit Mission Route.  It took us over five hours to travel approximately 250 km.

Tomorrow we kick up more red dust, discover more varieties of palm trees and harvest the natural bounty the forests have to offer.

I mentioned earlier that Bolivia is landlocked and have made a point of describing that I would be, in both the High Andes and the head waters of the Amazonian Basin.  It is an amazing contrast between the jagged snow-capped Andes in the west and the endless flat expanses of the eastern bread basket.  Bolivia covers 1,098,580 sq/km and just to give you a point of reference, the province of Ontario, in Canada, weights in at 1,076,395 and France covers 674,843 sq/km.

Unlike most countries, and describing the nitty-gritty would get too involved for this space, Bolivia has two Capitals.  La Paz is the Administrative Capital and that is where you’ll find the seat of Government as well as all the Embassies from around the world.  However, the Supreme Court is located in Sucre and is referred to as the Constitutional Capital of the Country.

The country is divided into three distinct regions: Los Andes, Los Sub-Andes and Los Llanos (the Flats) which divide up in a west to east arrangement.  Rather than provinces or states, they refer to the internal political divisions as Departments.

Like many developing countries, there is a marked dichotomy between urban and rural life and in the case of Bolivia, furthermore, between the Andes, where the harsh living conditions present unique economic challenges, and the tropical Amazonian region that produces every crop imaginable.

Bolivia is statistically the poorest nation in South America, with over 60% of the population falling below the poverty line.  Like Canada, Bolivia has long been an exporter of natural resources from it’s mines and from forest products.  In many ways Bolivia is similar to Canada in it’s struggle to convert it’s natural resources into finished products for export, thereby, adding value to the economy and providing employment opportunities for it’s citizens.  Most recently, Bolivia’s Natural Gas reserves have added another valuable commodity to it’s bag of tricks.  However, along with the benefits have come political unrest with regard to an equitable distribution of that new found wealth.

Protecting the natural environment is also a huge concern in Bolivia, especially when one takes into account that a significant percentage of the population continues to live a traditional life, in the jungle, which depends on the bounty produced by the land.  Bolivia boasts the largest percentage of indigenous people in it’s population, in the Americas.  Bolivianos actively participate in the political process and exercise their democratic rights to be listened too and respected.  Because of their activism, it is my assertion that Bolivianos are building a unique form of Democracy, that although in the short term produces instability that may be damaging the national economy, will in the future serve as an example to many other democracies, such as Canada, where striking a balance between native land claims, issues surrounding land use and exploitation of natural resources, and protecting the natural environment represent a significant a concern for it’s citizenry.

For over nine weeks, this fall, over 1000 Bolivians took to the road and marched over 600 km. from their homes in the Amazonian basin all the way to La Paz to protest the construction of a road that would cut through valuable jungle and displace indigenous populations that continue to depend on a traditional life style of hunting, fishing and gathering.  Furthermore, the road would have cut through the Territorio Indígena y Parque Nacional Isiboro Sécure (TIPNIS), a National Park.  In the end, President Evo Moralis, cancelled the road construction project along it’s original route, however, their continues to be uncertainty and concern with regard to a new route.

The Marchistas arrived in La Paz just days before our arrival, however, on several occasions we had the unique opportunity to speak with some of the organizers and gained access to the camp they set up in the square in front of the Parliament, while negotiations took place between all of the effected groups.  This was a historic event in Bolivia’s democratic life and we were privileged to be witness to it.

However, I am also aware that as open minded as I like to think I am, I bring along my own preconceptions.  Whether it’s from the Coffee-Table books full of wonderful photographs, Documentaries we’ve watched on TV or Travel Guides we’ve leafed through, we arrive at our destinations, often expecting one thing and perhaps finding another.

I like to believe that I’m going to arrive in a place distinctly different from where I just left, otherwise why bother.  I think it makes for a far more adventurous experience when one is wiling to try the indigenous cuisine in the establishments popular with the local people, hangout in the public squares and visit the local markets.  Heck, even try to use the lingo when ever possible.  Sure, there may be challenges with the language and the way people organize themselves, but it’s well worth abandoning most if not all of the hang-ups about the clothing, the music and certainly the food.

Food is a big one for me.  I know that Toronto has a great selection of cuisine from around the world, but when I travel I hope to leave that all behind and discover the true flavour of the place I’m visiting.  But alas, globalization makes that increasingly difficult.  Fortunately, although I haven’t walked every street in La Paz, this is a large city with approximately a million people, I’ve only seen one Burger King and I’ve been told that there aren’t any McDonalds.  Although they do have some of their own chains, they appear to be very small and family owned.  Now that all sounds promising, until you realize that they’re all selling burgers and fries, and fried chicken.  I know, I know, that’s where my own baggage starts to get in the way.  Just as we’ve adopted a variety of cultures, so have the Bolivians and they’re very proud of that, as they should be.

Anyway, I made this observation to our CUSO contact and she told me that that’s because I’d been walking up and down the same strip, where all the university students frequent.  She suggested I head out of our hotel, in the opposite direction, and I’d find a much better selection.  Absolutely true.  No question that there is a strong influence from Argentina in terms of the excellent beef and from Peru for the seafood.  Bolivia lost it’s access to the sea after the War of The Pacific and is now only one of two land locked countries in South America, along with Paraguay.

Remember how I descried that one could have a three course meal for around $10.00 including the beer, tax in?  Well I stopped into a little restaurant where I ordered a delicious trout dish, with soup as the appetizer and a flan custard for dessert for which I would have easily paid $40.00, before taxes, in Toronto.  The wonderful twist was that it was fresh trout from Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world.

Gratefully, Bolivians didn’t stop at burgers and fries and they’re very proud of their skills in mastering other cuisines.  Case in point, there’s a really good Chinese restaurant, for example, right next to the hotel, where last night I had a bowl of Egg-Drop soup and a couple of Spring Rolls, as good as I’ve had in Toronto.  I was having dinner by myself and next to me were two older couples, (anyone apparently older than me is always older) from Germany.  A quick aside, I stopped into a book store to peruse the shelves, and discovered there has long been an interest in South America by Germans, that extends beyond the post Second World War.

Anyway, although I couldn’t understand any more than a few loose words of their conversation, I thoroughly enjoyed watching them, imaging their stories and how different their experience of Bolivia will be, from mine, if for no other reason than the language barrier.  I couldn’t help but smile when the waiter brought them their dishes and amongst the rice, vegetable and noodle dishes, were two big plates of french-fries.  As I was saying about pre-conceptions.  One last note worthy observation about the experience, I didn’t see anyone using chopsticks.  Sure, neither was I but it’s kinda’ difficult to eat soup with chopsticks.  I asked the waiter about that, and he said it wasn’t uncommon for patrons to ask for them.

Otherwise, there’s a great variety of food in La Paz, and the markets have pretty well anything you want.  Imagine a papaya as large as a cantaloupe without that huge pit.  One doesn’t so much find cooked-food on the streets, other than empanadas, but every corner has someone selling fresh fruit along with the cell phone chips, magazines and pop.  That’s soda for any American readers.  With regard to buying fresh fruit on the street, Anouk and I have been warned not to eat any street food, including the fruit, because of the uncertainty as to how or if it’s been washed.  We’re only here for five weeks and loosing any time to introducing our bodies to the local microbes would seriously cut into our itinerary.  On the other hand, I’ve been washing my teeth with tap water, without a problem and we’ve been told that La Paz is the only urban centre in Bolivia with tap water meeting International Standards.

Breakfasts at the hotel consist of fresh Mangos, Pineapples, Bananas, as well as freshly squeezed juices, along with the typical fair of crusty breads with all the fixings, cold cereals and pastries.  This is certain to change in the next few days.

After two days of repose to acclimatize to the altitude and two days of In Country training to reinforce local issues surrounding health, safety and an excellent overview of the political structure and situation, we were finally off to visit our first CUSO project yesterday.  However, we’re off to Santa Cruz tomorrow, the largest city in the country, and after a few days there, head out for almost , two weeks to visit small rural communities, some may not have electricity and others certainly without internet.  We will be flying to Santa Cruz which is just shy of 1000 km way down the slope (great just as we were finally reaching our 2.5 hour marathon) and from there we’re into trains, busses and mule carts.  A real live Planes, Trains, and Automobiles adventure.  Some communities as close to Santa Cruz as a 100km will take us upwards of seven hours along dirt roads, if the rain holds.

I know that you’ve probably been waiting to see those photos the most, so I’ll try when ever possible to post something, even if it means keeping the writing to very basic descriptions and context, in lieu of uploading the images.  It’ll be tough, but I’ll do my best for all you loyal fans.

Bien o mal, tengo los dedos cruzados de que los de habla Español que estéis leyendo esto, podáis entender mucho si no casi todo.  De todos modos, quiero añadir que aparte de la oportunidad de poder viajar, sea donde sea, unos de los lujos mas satisfactorios de este viaje es el poder estar hablando en castellano a diario.  El tener que escuchar con cuidado los accentos de los otros participantes en varios otros proyectos, que han llegado de Chile y Méjico.  El tener que hacer conversaciones que van mas haya que lo domestico, el poder hablar de temas mas importantes, que si el precio de lechugas esta muy alto.  Anoche cene en el Sancho Panza, un restaurante cuyo dueño es un Madrileño que se vino en el 2005 y no volvio a España.  Cenamos a base de raciones y estuvieron buenísimas.

Hasta la próxima.

We were picked up at the airport by a taxi that had been pre-arranged by the hotel we’re staying at, while in La Paz, and CUSO had left a package for each of us, at the front-desk containing some reading material and an envelope with 360 Bolivianos.  Presuming that the Canadian and U.S. $$ are at par, and the exchange rate at approximately 7:1 that works out to about $50.00 to cover our meals for the next five days.  The hotel rooms were being billed directly to CUSO.

Fifty dollars for five days of meals may not sound like much, but it’s more than enough.  Breakfast is included with the room and lunches were also covered on each of the three days of In Country Training, so $50.00 goes a long way.  More on the food later, but for the purpose of some examples, one can grab a burger and fries for under $3.00 and a great three course meal for $10.00, which includes a bottled beer for $1.00.

The hotel is by no means the Royal York, but neither is it a Have A Nap that rents out by the hour.  The room is very comfortable, with a small bar fridge, TV, desk with both free WiFi and an RJ45 hard wired internet connection, chest of drawers and, oh ya, a bed.  We also have something that many, if not most of the homes in La Paz don’t have, and that is heat in the form of a small radiator.  It’s one of those situations, such as I’m familiar with in Spain, whereby because it doesn’t get TOO cold, homes didn’t always have heat.  However, when it’s hovering around 0 in the middle of winter for a few months, cold is cold.  That’s changed in Spain, but here it appears to still be quite common.

I mentioned TAXIs earlier and that deserves a description all its own.  There are various modes of public transport and although somewhat regulated, it still seems a bit chaotic to the uninitiated.  First there’s the Radio Taxi which is the safest, because one telephones a dispatcher, who logs the pickup and client.  They charge based on distance or around $7.00 for an hour.  You heard me, you can go anywhere you want and make as many stops as you want for an hour.

Then there’s the Taxi, which will stop to pick you up on the street… and anyone else along the route going the same way.  Less safe since no one knows you were picked up and someone else could get it, be in cahoots with the driver and, well snatch your Louis Vuitton bag.  They too offer the hourly rate option and come in around $6.00 for an hour.

Then there’s the Trufi, still a car, which follows a specific route just like a bus, and will stop to pick you up and anyone else along the route.  Less safe for the same reasons as the Taxi, but they charge as little as 50 cents.

The three Taxi examples are regulated, however, there doesn’t appear too much enforcement of rules, so it’s difficult to know for sure, when you’re out on the street, as to what kind of cab you’re hailing.

Finally we come to the buses.  Well, sort of.  First there’s the Mini Bus, which is a van that follows a route, apparently of their choosing.  The way it works is that they have hand-made signs that they display on their windshields indicating the various major points of interest on their route.  This appears to be a family affair, because one person sits in the passenger seat, shouting out the different destinations along the route and another slides the door open and shut along the way.  They pull up to a traffic light, slide the door open and try to out-shout all the other Mini Bus “tour guides”.  It’s a real spectacle to watch for a mere 25 cents.

Last but not least is the Micro Bus, what we would recognize as School Bus.  They follow a route, move much slower, because of the inability to dodge around other traffic, and spew an outrageous amount of exhaust fumes: hack, cough, gag, squint blahhh… and you can ride that magic bus for around 20 cents.

Oh ya these Mini and Micro buses are unionized and that means a lot here.  They’re very powerful.

So, there you have it, a brief run down (oh stop complaining) of some of the basic expenses I’ve had to deal with.  But of course I wouldn’t make you read down this far without treating you to some visual reinforcement.