Tourists Trapped in Tarabuco

Next morning we were booked to go on a tour to Tarabuco, which is meant to be a lovely little town with a Sunday market, mostly of traditional textiles from different nearby villages. The market was traditionally held for locals, but it was now chiefly a tourist event, we understood. Unfortunately I was too hung over to shop. It's not easy for me at the best of times, but virtually impossible with a hangover. When we got off the bus, we headed straight for a cafe for some coffee. The first place we stopped had such bad coffee that we poured it away before heading to another place.

Joanne eating Api con buñelos

Nice restaurant

The next place we found was actually quite nice and we ordered a “traditional breakfast” without really knowing what to expect. It was described as being Api con buñelos but I had no idea what either were. Api, it turns out, is a hot and spicy fruit drink; very nice and thick. Buñelos are little biscuits, for dunking into the api I supposed.

We bought something from him

I think this statue is something to do with defeating the Spansih

Textiles

Woman in traditional clothes

The stuff on sale at the market was quite nice, but the town was a tourist trap and people constantly hassled us; something that hadn't really happened since Asia, and something my hangover did not equip me for. I just wanted to leave but we couldn't because we had taken the tour bus instead of getting the local bus: we had to stay until our bus was leaving. In the end we did buy a couple of things are probably got quite good prices for them, but I found it so irritating being hassled constantly for the whole day, I wouldn't recommend the place. Yet, when the boot is on the other foot it's a different matter: I asked an old man if I could please take his photo, and he just looked annoyed, as if he was sick of all this hassle, and said no. Horrible place! Maybe he's not involved in the market and it is all annoying for him too.

More traditional people

More traditional dress

Babies, goods, and goats are all carried in those

Armadillo guitar?

Back in Sucre we went out to Locot's Mexican Restaurant, which the guidebook recommended, saying it had wifi. We got the worst service so far on the trip, which is saying something, and the wifi wasn't even working. I was really becoming sick of Bolivia. Lucy and Zdenek arrived later in the day and were also staying at La Dolce Vita, but he was really ill and not up to socialising at all. He also believes he has a really strong stomach (unlike Lucy), but the food in Bolivia had struck him down.

The following day we managed to find an open tailor and get my poor broken trousers repaired, along with various other items of clothing, mostly shirts, which had ripped to a greater or lesser degree. The repair was cheap and quick, so I had trousers again! Just in time for another overnight bus. This time to La Paz. We had to check our bags in like a plane and mine weighed only 25kg, so I was at least losing some weight from my bag. It was another horrible bus journey: the speaker above our heads rattled loudly, the toilet stop was far too late again, but at least I finished my Che Guevara biography. It was heavy going but really good. And how appropriate, I thought to finish it in the country where they did him in. And what a cheek, I thought, for all the tourist places to be selling goods with him image on them, when the people of Bolivia constantly reported his presence to the military and their betrayal led directly to his death. Still, I suppose nations can change. And he was a bit stupid launching a guerilla campaign in Bolivia in the first place, not helped by the Stalinists in the country deceiving him, causing him to make serious tactical errors.

written by

The Happy Couple on October 26, 2009 from Tarabuco, Bolivia

from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon

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