Glad to escape the devil child we disembarked onto the dusty streets of Samaipata. The first sight of this town gave the impression we had arrived in a tiny little backwater, but a walk around the corner of the cobbled street brought us ti a row of hotels and tour operators. We soon checked into the beautiful Residential Don Jorge where the rooms surrounded a plaza complete with a fruit-laden pomegranate tree (a few of which were picked, eaten and delicious).
A wonder down into the town revealed the pleasant plaza full of trees and monuments to various Bolivian historical figures. The red tiled roofs sat atop sand coloured plastered houses giving views through to the rolling green mountains in which this small town nestles. At 1,800 metres the temperature here has been steadily delightful and the days blessed with blue skies and golden sunshine. It has been easy to enjoy the relaxed and lovely vibe of this beautiful town.
Other than stroll around we did little more on our first day than get information from some helpful German guys that have settled here and run Roadrunners tour agency. Letting us know everything from the tours they run to the best places to eat we headed out to test their theories and took an early night. It had been quite a journey to get here- particularly for Blakey!
The next morning we took a leisurely approach to the day- it really felt like a lazy Sunday. The small collection of ex-pats that have settled here has led to some homely treats, including freshly baked croissants for breakfast. We then took some bread (also freshly baked) with us for a pretty stroll up a nearby hill to the ´Refugio Zoologico´. Nothing in comparison to the Santa Cruz zoo, this tiny refuge held a collection of animals bought injured from the wild whom had become too accustomed to their human carers to be re-released. The animals here have become so accustomed that many are not caged but simply roam free around the small grounds. This led to a little confusion when Blakey, carrying our picnic, was told to be careful as there was a cheetah wondering around that could become aggressive if we didn´t hand food over. We soon realised it was not quite as dangerous as it initially seemed, and that cheetah was actually the name of a monkey!
After a look around the small collection of cages with curious animals that seemed as pleased to see us as we were to see them, we encountered a number of cute little primates. A couple of squirrel monkeys were curled up in a hammock strung up outside the house and two larger monkeys with copious amounts of confidence sprang onto the shoulders of the keepers, curling their long arms and tail around their necks like an elaborate scarf.
We sat and ate our lunch in the pretty spot, looking out across the hills and watching a spider monkey jump around excitedly. We were almost ready to go when the best guide we had met since starting our travels arrived. Dennis was a young French boy, no more than 11 years old, who had moved with his family to a village about an hour away. He had been staying in Samaipata for the week to attend school and the roads were too dangerous after recent rains for him to return for the weekend, so the Swiss family that own the zoo were looking after him. It was clear this was a home for home for him as after politely addressing us in Spanish he switched to English in order to tell us more about the inhabitants of the zoo.
As he finished feeding a caged group of monkeys he put his head to the wire for them to groom him as they do for each other in the wild. As a couple pulled and tugged at his hair he explained that the large female in the cage had given him the deep scar on his cheek, so he was weary of her. Still, he knew it was in their nature and seemed utterly forgiving as the others enjoyed his attention.
After a while he wanted to show us the singing monkey- one of the larger monkeys that had been wondering around. Locating it in a nearby tree Dennis whipped out his mobile phone and started to play Avril Lavigne´s ´´I don´t like your boyfriend´´. To start with the monkey just looked bemused so he climbed the tree to sit with him, at which point the monkey started making the deepest, quite scary guttural sounds. This monkey was a skater boi!
Dennis was enjoying sharing this place with us and wanted to show us the female of the pair- the infamous Cheetah, as well as a coati, one of his favourite animals. Expecting to start searching around he took us straight to one of the cages where he opened the doors and invited us in. His relaxed confidence and enthusiasm for the creatures put us at ease and before we had even stepped through the second door Cheetah was draped around my neck, the coati was greeting Dennis like a puppy with it´s owner and Blakey had a wild pig rubbing his legs and licking his ankles. The animals all swapped their affections a few times with us and our day was made. Thanking Dennis wholeheartedly we started the rambling descent back to town to enjoy our pictures and video footage. This was fast becoming another town on our favourites list.
The next morning we were up early in a bid to phone home, but a long wait at the bank led to a leisurely breakfast and a short wait to ensure Blakey`s Granny would have returned from her birthday lunch for a call from her strapping grandson. After a nice catch up we headed back to town to see the sights surrounding this area. Hopping in a taxi we travelled up a bumpy and steep path to the pre Inca site of El Fuerte. Sat on top of a peak the area was beautifully positioned for views across the distance. Again we wondered peacefully around the large circuit taking in the strange carvings of this huge exposed rock. In hindsight maybe we should have splashed out for a guide as we did not know the significance of what looked like a life sized model village sculpted in the rocks here. Carved rectangles and oblongs represented doors and windows with faded carvings of jaguars and geometric patterns adorning the fake houses. It seemed the rock was solid so the place could not have been functional- we will have to google it when we get home! In addition the sight was surrounded by the remains of walls from an Inca settlement that found El Fuerte and decided it was cool enough to set up camp next to.
That evening, after an email from home about wedding invitations, we had a long discussion about when we would return home and when we would let people know. A few months ago we had to book a return flight and had decided to go for an earlier date then originally planned but did not want to say in case we changed our minds and stayed longer. Now we decided that we would be returning then, and as much as we liked the idea of turning up on our parents doorstep out of the blue to see their faces, we liked the idea of organising parties and ensuring people had the time off work to attend even more. We resolved to call home again the following day and let everyone know.
But when we woke up in the morning we had a day of activities planned first. Having hired bikes from the friendly Roadrunner guys we both took to the saddle to descend 500 metres over 20 kilometres to the nearby ´Cuevas´, a set of waterfalls. Leaving our hostel we both wobbled most ungracefully on the cobbled road in a way that did not bode well. The slightly rusty bikes needed chains oiling as the gears constantly cracked, often changing of their own free will. Blakey`s brakes seemed to cause his bike (with no tire tread left) to veer to the right significantly, where as my brakes just had little effect at all. It was with much trepidation that we took to the dodgy, pothole ridden main road with the infamous Bolivian drivers (thankfully not many, but more often driving huge, wide heavy trucks) that would blare their horns the moment they passed- often making Blakey jump in that special way he always does! The first half hour of the journey was not at all fun as we struggled to control our dodgy bikes as the road rapidly descended. We stopped to wipe the sweat from our brow- not from hard work but from pant-wetting worry that we were going to swerve beneath the wheel s of one of these huge trucks! Thankfully, after discussing how less than ideal the journey was turning out to be we rounded a corner and the road started to run far more flat. The next hour was much more leisurely, allowing us to appreciate the pretty views of the dark green hills and condors flying overhead.
The last part of the route was not well displayed on the map. It looked as though we needed to follow a gravel road for ´Bella Vista´ and turn off for ´Las Cuevas´. We found the road and started to walk up the steep gravel track though it did not seem right. It wasn´t, but we enjoyed the ´Bella Vista´ mountain range ahead, the large pretty butterflies we passed and whirled away the time imagining our own Grand Design inspired by houses we had just cycled by and it`s multitude of features (winning lottery tickets will be required!)
When we had walked far enough to confirm it was not the right way (well over an hour now) we headed back and found the actual entrance to the waterfalls. By comparison the walk along the manicured path was a little tame and the resulting view slightly underwhelming, but we sat with our well earned chocolate bars and enjoyed the view before turning back to start the long journey uphill.
As we peddled up hard we soon began to worry that this was not as achievable as first hoped. Our bikes creaked as we pushed against the pedals with the gears still changing on their own accord with a large clank and sudden alter in tension- OK when it became loose but difficult to control when it felt like we could not push through the cycle. My chain had fallen off 3 times when I started to loose all hope of getting back- especially as I was so keen to call home and let parents know how soon we´d be back with them. We cycled for about an hour and stopped to get refreshments, then a little further still when we sat and enjoyed some more of our drinks along with a stunning view of a church backed by the hills. The church must have been blessed as soon after we were sent a saviour- our taxi driver from the previous day. For just 3 pounds he put his seats down, loaded the bikes and their riders and ferried us up what seemed like a very long and steep distance back to town. Still, Blakey got him to drop us a little further down the road and peddled 50 metres or so to the tour office for a dramatic brake scrunch and impression that we ha d not cheated at all. The owner was utterly shocked- most people bring them back in taxis!
So our last night in Samaipata involved phone calls home that were met with satisfying and touching excitement followed by what felt like a splash out meal in a lovely restaurant. We enjoyed delicious food at our candle lit table with a large jug of fresh lemonade and shared
an indulgent pudding all for 10 pounds. It felt great, to be so excited about going home and yet to have such a brilliant few days in this gorgeous town. We are so lucky to be having so much fun!
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