We arrived in Sucre on a bright and sunny morning. After a brief misunderstanding with a taxi driver (4 pounds each? That´s too expensive! Oh, 40p, yeah, that´s OK!) we were whisked through the cobbled streets lined with grand white plastered buildings giving everything a bright and airy feel. Everything felt spotlessly clean and we were instantly struck with the prettiness of this city. We were soon booked into a similarly airy and comfortable hotel with open courtyards full of roses and cacti- it had been worth the wait to get here.
A leisurely breakfast (slightly enforced by the less than keen waiting staff) saw our bellies full of good food and I managed to acquire a new book along with information about a local dance performance. The rest of the morning was idled away as we rested in our pretty room.
Fully recovered from the night bus we headed out into the afternoon sun to walk around the new city. We were only a couple of blocks from the greenery filled plaza and each cobbled side street led to views of a different mountain or valley at the end of the road. We soon found out about a large market taking place in a nearby town the next day so after booking bus tickets for that we booked tickets for the dance performance that evening and headed back for further reaxation and a dip into the new book- one of my favourite luxuries out here.
Come the evening and we headed for one of the many tempting restaurants surrounding the plaza where we soaked up the romantic atmosphere before heading through the lamplit streets up to a tiny theatre. Upon entering it was clear it was going to be a fairly intimate performance- a reasonably sized stage was surrounded with just 6 dining tables of various sizes- ours right near the front. Other audience members were rich enough to enjoy dinner at the performance (something we were worried might lead to Asian style chatty audiences- though thankfully not). We were happy to settle at our table with our cameras ready (no flash, of course!) and just enjoy the show.
From the beginning of the first number it was clear we were going to enjoy this. The stage suddenly burst into life after a group of traditionally dressed girls, swaying their skirts and fluttering their eyelashes, were joined by a group of stomping men with bells attached to the heels of their shoes. The energetic performance was like as elaborate tap dance- the rhythmic stomping and jingling creating a pounding accompaniment to the melodies playing.
The show continued with many elaborate costume changes and heartfelt dances. The dances were all depicting Bolivian folklore which seems to consist mainly of flirting and causing excessive pain to the Spanish. The dancers emotively depicted each character keeping us totally engaging in the colourful spectacle right to the end. The last dance- a traditional carnival piece- saw most of the couples flirting (again!) whilst acrobatic clowns tumbled around the stage and into the audience. This continued right through to the bows when the dancers came from the stage- one grabbing Blakey´s arm and encouraging him to dance with her. I wasn´t quick enough with the camera to capture the moment before I too was taken by the hand. By the end most of the audience members had been led to the stage for the energetic finale and once all assembled in a large circle my partner led me to take centre stage- it seems I can steal the show even when part of the audience!
We walked back to the hostal buzzing and after fending off a drunken local trying to offer his services as a tour guide were soon tucked up and asleep. The next morning we had an early start to catch the bus to Tarabujo.
It felt a bit of a struggle as we reluctantly flung the covers of and headed for a basic breakfast the next morning (ALWAYS slightly stale bread, slighty dodgy tasting butter and jam and a mediocre coffee- free, but you can´t imagine how exciting cereals with milk and Warburtons bread is right now!) Still, we managed a brief internet check before boarding the slow bus as it heaved its load of grigos up the nearby hills and though the beautiful Bolivian countryside to the small market town for a mid-morning bargain hunt.
The market had been described as one of the most colourful in South America and there certainly were a great number of interesting faces and characters wearing traditional costumes, large lumps of coca leaves stuffed into the sides of their cheeks. Many would have made an interesting cover for a National Geographic but I can´t help but struggle with the concept of taking pictures of people in this way- it seems a little patronising. Add to that the fear of some of the women that cameras can steal souls and we weren´t too trigger happy, though hopefully we captured the mood of this place sufficiently.
The town itself was fairly intersting- the central plaza contained one of the most grotesque statues I have ever seen. A life sized plaster model depicted a local Bolivian standing over a slain Spaniard with a gaping bloody hole in his chest. The victor was holding the dripping bloody heart, teeth bared and bloody with still more blood running from his mouth and down his chin. The artist had managed to capture his eyes full of fury with a hint of psychopathy- nice! Rarely have I seen towns so proud of the brutal and violent struggle for victory- many depict their heroes as upright and noble instead- this was truly frightening!
For us, the market itself was a little disappointing- after the live frogs, snakes and other strange things in the markets of China this was a little tame. Stalls were clearly either for locals,selling rather boring everyday items like clothes, shoes and the same kind of bric a brac you would see in Eastleigh on a Thursday or Saturday, or aimed at gringos selling "stereotypical" weavings and llama wool products. After ssing an American guy sporting a long llama patterned poncho and traditional hat we decided that he looked like too much like a "stereotypical" knob, and were somewhat put off. Still, when we came to leave we had acquired a couple of souvenirs and were pleased to have ventured further out into the countryside just to see the sweeping views across the hills and valleys that decorated the route there and back.
We returned that aftenoon and after our relativaly late night, early morning and bumpy ride we did little else than take advantage of Facebook chat and wander the streets before finding another satisfying, romantic and incredibly cheap meal. We returned to indulge in cable TV- though I soon fell asleep as Blakey excitedly relived his childhood whilst watching Sharon Stone and Arnie get it on in Total Recall.
Feeling fairly satisfied with all we had achieved in Sucre so far, on our last day we planned to visit the dinosaur tracks- a nearby collection of pre-historic footprints. Well, our pace is certainly starting to slow up as we had such a long lie in that I finished the newly acquired book and Blakey completed his last Sudoku puzzles and we both missed the bus! Not too dissapointed after hearing some rather mixed reviews of the place we were left with one final afternoon to make the most of the best cafes and prettiest streets we have seen so far in Bolivia. It certainly feels indulgent taking things so easy here- but apparently that´s what the Boivians are famous for!
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