Day 121 - An Afternoonn in Tarija

An Afternoon in Tarija

After my morning-long wine tour, I was tired and took a nap.  But I do not regularly take long naps; at most 15 minutes and I am ready to go again.  I was only in Tarija for the weekend, so I needed to get out and see some things.

I was told about a place overlooking the city called the Mirador de los Suenos.  The boy at the front desk of the hotel did not know what I was talking about, but showed me a picture of a Mirador with a different name.  Well, that was the one.  I found a taxi driver who agreed to take me there for 10 Bs, though he said it was not far.  I asked if he would wait while I visited and he said, “of course.”

The Mirador was not open.  So, I was about to give up, feeling I had missed out, because it looked kinda cool.  As I was leaving, I hear some music in a room at the guard post.  The guard is inside watching TV, his pants unbuttoned and he has his shirt pulled up exposing his stomach.  He was very relaxed.  He told me the Mirador would be open at 3:00.  It was not quite 2:00.  I asked if it were possible for him to open it if I gave him a few extra bolivianos.  It cost 1 Bs, and I offered him 10.  He said sure and proceeded to open the Mirador, and then lock it behind me.

The Mirador is cool.  It Is shaped like a wine glass and covered in mirrors.  It is not very tall, may four-stories in total.  I climbed to the top and had some nice views of Tarija and the mountains beyond.  As I was leaving, I noticed that the lower level was covered with wall art, most intentionally put there, but some put there by teens expressing themselves.

When I was finished my taxi driver was sitting on the steps enjoying the sun.  He had waited like he promised.  He then drove me to the Plaza Principal.  To my surprise, when I gave him a 20 Bs note, because the drive plus the waiting was worth that or more, he gave me back 15!  He didn’t want to cheat me since it was so close.  I gave him a tip for being so nice and taking care of me.  Tarijans are so nice.

A side note.  In Santa Cruz, if you are crossing the street, you had better watch for cars, they own the road and you need to get out of their way.  In Tarija, they will stop for you and wave you across.  It flustered me more than once as I was rushing across a street.  It is just a laid-back quiet kinda place.

I lunched at the Gatto Pardo (Gatto is Italian for cat, with only one “t” it would be Spanish; pardo means spotted; but I never got the connection to a jaguar or leopard).  It was the restaurant I ate at the night before.  Families would be eating at the tables outside and friends would stop by and kiss cheeks, or would honk horns as they drove by.  For all the dignity of the place, it had the feel of home.

I explored a little after lunch.  Tarija has two plazas side by side.  The one closest to my hotel is the Plaza Sucre.  It seems to be more suited for young people.  There are lots of teens visiting other teens or eating ice cream.  The night before there were kids break dancing and a street performer, dressed as a statue.

Two blocks away is the Plaza de Armas, or Plaza Principal.  Like Sucre, it is filled with beautiful roses, but it also has a gorgeous fountain that the pigeons love.  The Plaza Principal makes me think of what a Latin American plaza should be like.  There are families enjoying the shade and feeding pigeons.  There are the elderly, dressed in their Sunday best, visiting old friends.  There is the lady selling corn to feed the pigeons who told me she is ugly; I found her to be the most beautiful thing in the plaza.  There is the man selling popcorn.  Another taking pictures.  A lady selling balloons and her sister selling cotton candy.  There is a man selling newspapers; and I am amazed at how many, old and young, who buy the paper.  It is the place where you feel safe.  It is what a small city is supposed to be like.

That afternoon, I was wondering why there was no church in either plaza.  I guess that was the one thing that stood out so different from what I was accustomed to.  While walking around, I noticed a block away, a beautiful colonial church.  I walked the block to discover a third plaza.  Three plazas side by side!  This plaza seemed quiet and hidden.  It was covered with flowers and the most beautiful little church one could imagine.

I roamed the streets some more and sat for a few hours writing.  In fact, I wrote my first four blogs on Tarija that afternoon, including this one. 

Around 8:00, I was hungry again.  I had seen a little pizza place, called Pizza Macondo.  A more eclectic little place you could not find.  Every table was different.  Every chair was different.  The shelves were covered with interesting artifacts.  The ceiling bedecked with strings of lights and garlands of origami swans.  A little girl ran all over the restaurant taking the flowers off the tables, deciding they were there for her.  Nobody ever told her they weren’t.  I ordered a locoto pazzo pizza (locoto is a Bolivian hot pepper, and pazzo is the Italian word for crazy); it was delicious.  The next time in Tarija I will go back there first.

I sat in the plaza for at least another hour before deciding I needed to sleep.

Day 119 - Wine Country

Wine Country

I was in a new city.  I couldn’t stay in bed and sleep, even though I had not had a good eight hours of sleep.  I hurried through a shower, an amazing shower, I might add, and went to the top floor to eat a quick bite of food.  I wanted to go for a walk, because at 8:30, I had reservations for a wine tour.

I didn’t go far.  I walked down Belgrano Street for about four blocks, only to discover that it is full of dozens of almost identical butcher shops, many with grills going full blast, though as early as it was, few had put meat on yet.  In an upcoming blog I am going to write about the Bolivian tendency to put dozens of shops selling the same exact thing side-by-side.  I don’t quite get it.  There was a girl making empanadas by hand.  They smelled so good, I vowed I would go back the next morning to have some for breakfast.  Sadly, she took Sunday off.

I got back in time for my tour.  They arrived at 8:30 to pick me up from the hotel.  There was another young man from my hotel, Cesar, who went on the tour.  He was a quiet young man, in town learning more about banking.  When he took off his jacket, his arms were covered in tattoos.  There were two French girls, both very pretty, on the tour but talked too loudly when the guide talked.  I have always been told Americans were brash.  There are other nationalities ththat are too.  There were two young Bolivian couples; one of the ladies did not like wine very much.  There was a Bolivian man in his forties who kept wondering off from the group.  And there was a couple in their 60s or 70s from Cochabamba.  I met them again later, only to discover that they were relatives of my friends, Sandra and Andrea.

Our first stop was Campos de Solano, where we had a short tour of the winery.  In both the winery tours it was loud and being taller than most, I stood at the back.  So I didn’t understand more than about half of what was taught about wines.

We did have a wine tasting though.  That I understood well.  We were served a tinto vino, red wine, and were told how it should be handled.  First, reds should be allowed to stand for at least 30 minutes before drinking.  If in more of a hurry, you can swirl the wine in the goblet to warm it up.  When you first drink the wine, tilt it about 90◦ to allow the flavors and colors to separate.  Take a deep sniff of the wine, then sip it, to allow the flavors to sink in.

You might be wondering if I drink a lot of wine and the answer is no.  I do drink some, usually if I am offered at someone’s house.  I don’t think this entire year of 2016 I have drunk a full bottle of wine, including what we had on the tour.

With the wine, we had cheese, Spanish ham (which is like butter), and olives.

Our guide, Estephany

Next we went to the Casa Real where they make Singani, a very strong wine.  We passed around a cup of Singani and were taught the proper way to drink it.  First you offer it to your neighbor by saying “te invito” (I invite you to drink).  Your neighbor says, “salud” (to your health).  Then you drink just a sip.  A sip was more than enough!  It is fiery strong.  They gave us a drink of Singani mixed with Canada Dry after that.  About 90% Canada Dry.  Even so, that was enough wine for me for the day.  Little did I know!

We drove through the mountains after that, stopping at a place called La Angostura, where the Tarija River narrows in some canyons.  The water is collected here to be used by the surrounding vineyards.  Tarija is very dry, being on the western side of the Andes.  The surrounding land reminds me of the hills on I-20 as you are approaching Abilene, Texas. 

We next stopped at the Casa Vieja.  It was aptly named.  Vieja means old.  It looked like a very old house, maybe 200 years old.  There was a woman making pancakes on a grill over an open fire.  The smoke made it smell delicious.  It cost only 5 Bs, less than $1, and I was hungry.  There was too much for one person, so I shared it with Cesar.  The Casa Vieja has a restaurant with an incredible view of the valley below.  We did not eat there, but the next time I come to Tarija, I will most definitely eat a meal there.

The reason we stopped at the Casa Vieja was for a ten-wine tasting.  I was ready to be done with wine for the day, or month, for that matter, but I was there to experience all I could, so I did it anyway.  The way they did it was not the most salubrious.  The guide told us about a wine and handed it to the first person, who passed it to the next, around till all twenty of us had a drink.  I was number three, so I wasn’t sharing that many germs. 

The next time I think I will pass on the wine tasting.

Day 118 - Silver

Silver

That’s what it looked like outside the window of Flight 522 to Tarija on Friday, October 21^st.  It had been drizzly and overcast and hot when we left Santa Cruz.  Yet in moments, after takeoff, we broke through the clouds.  Our cabin was flooded with silver light. Outside the clouds sparkled silver in the late afternoon sun in the sky over Bolivia.

Just before we landed, the clouds broke up over some mountains.  Below me I saw lumps of freshly baked chocolate brownies, smothered in marshmallow paste.  The clouds were caught in pockets in the Andean Mountains.  At the western edge of the world, a golden necklace graced the darkening sky, as the sun setover Bolivia.  I was overwhelmed by the richness of the afternoon sky.

Over the next few hours, I would experience that beauty of the people of Tarija.  One sign welcomed me to Tarija, the city of the smile. 

The man who sat next to me on the plane walked me to the taxi line.  He was from Santa Cruz, but wanted to make sure that me, the foreigner, was not cheated, but got the Bolivian rate.  I had nothing to fear; my taxi driver was a man who wanted me to enjoy my stay in Tarija.  He directed me to take the wine tour the next day, which I did.  Several of my Bolivian friends had said the same thing.  Since I was in wine country, I would most definitely look into the wine tour.

At the hotel, I was again bombarded with the friendliness that Tarija is known for.  The young man at the front desk, did everything he could to make sure everything was perfect for me.  He is one of those that the phrase, head-over-heals, works well.  I don’t know his name and regret that; but he didn’t work Sunday when I left, so I never learned it.  This young man made sure my TV worked well, even though I said I didn’t plan on watching TV.  He made sure my room was just right and that I had enough towels. He gave me directions to a good restaurant, in which I ended up eating three of my six meals in Tarija.  When I came back from eating, he made reservations for me to be a part of the wine tour the next morning.

The restaurant he sent me to was beautiful.  It was like something from a forgotten past.  Dignified.  Like an old-world club of gentlemen.  And they were playing Christian music.  What could be better?

The burst of silver was just the beginning.  The next two days would teach me a lot about this place.  Tarija is a shining smile of sliver in people whose hearts are of pure gold.

Day 117 - El Cristo

El Cristo

The Cristo is a monument is located on Avenida el Cristo Redentor and the Second Ring, in the middle of a rotunda with traffic streaming around it.  If you continue north on this highway you will get to the airport, so coming into Santa Cruz for the first time, you will meet this statue.

The statue was cast in bronze by the sculptor Emiliano Lujan of the city of La Paz in the year 1961.  Its original purpose was to commemorate the Fourth National Eucharist Council in 1961.  The dedication ceremony was attended by then president, Victor Paz Estenssoro. 

The statue faces the city of Santa Cruz, seeming to bless the city.  In the busy, rough and tumble world of Santa Cruz, it is a good thing to have Christ looking down on the city.

On the southwest corner of the intersection is an open-air chapel, with a beautifully carved wooden cross facing the monument.

The road running south from el Cristo is lined with restaurants, many of them old and serving traditional Bolivian meals.  A friend and I sat and enjoyed a nice meal here after spending the day at Interpol.  It is an avenue, so that means a divided street.  The median is like a park.  There is a wide walkway, with trees, a fountain, statues, and plenty of places to sit and watch the busy traffic pass by.

At the far end of the avenue is the Palacio de Justicia, the tallest building in Bolivia and one of the tallest in South America.  With a few exceptions of buildings in Sao Paulo, Buenos Aires, and Santiago, there are just not that many tall buildings compared to what we have in the States.

It seems that every time I visit the Cristo monument, three times since I moved here, I haven’t been able to catch the light just right.  The sky is too bright and the statue too dark.  One day I need to go near dusk.  Maybe then I will catch it.

Artur and I at the Cristo in Rio, Summer 2015

It is nothing compared to the amazing statue in Rio de Janeiro, but it should surely be on your list of places to see in Santa Cruz.  After you take some selfies of yourself in front of the statue, stop and have a nice meal at a sidewalk café.

Some of this information was gleaned from the Spanish Wikipedia page on El Cristo.

Day 116 - Going South

Going South

Today, I am again doing what I love most, travelling.  I am heading to a city in southern Bolivia, called Tarija. It will be the furthest south I have been in Bolivia, almost to the border of Argentina.  Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, is, at the moment, the farthest south I have been. 

So today, I went to school, wrote lesson plans, that I discovered I did not give to my principal, as well as made plans for my sub on Monday, since I will be at immigration that day.  I cancelled a tutoring class, partly to get ready to go and partly because the boy had a party that he would miss.  Party wins out.

Since I didn’t have anything to eat at my house, I stopped by my favorite restaurant, La Pascana.  I love that they know me, and know what I probably will order.  I am even learning the names of some of the young people who wait on me; today it was Fabiola.

At home, I washed some clothes and took a nap.  I set an alarm, but I usually am able to take a 10-minute nap and feel refreshed.  I checked the weather to make sure I had packed the right clothes.  I added my jacket at the last minute.  I made sure everything was in my bag, though I can always buy an extra toothbrush at a neighborhood store. 

Soon it was 3:00.  I turned off everything in my house and hurried downstairs.  My regular driver, William couldn’t take me, but said I shouldn’t pay more than 70 or 80 Bs. (about $10).  I found a nice taxista who talked the whole way about where I should go visit in Bolivia.  Cochabamba yes, but Oruro no.

Getting my ticket and going through security was a snap.  It took less than ten minutes.  One security guard was surprised that my name is Potter. 

“Is that a real name?”

“Yes, it is.  In fact, I have an uncle Harry.”  That always makes them laugh.

I was an hour early, so I had time to get a bite to eat.  I bought a torta de choclo, basically a corn quiche.  I was sitting at Gate 4, where I was supposed to be boarding from, but about 40 minutes before the flight, the gate number changed.  I finished my quiche and went to Gate 3.  About 15 minutes until boarding the gate changed again, so I returned to Gate 4. 

I was one of the first to board the plane and discovered I had a really nice aisle seat, close to the front.  A few minutes later a lady boarded the plane with two toddlers and her mother.  She said her mother was in the opposite aisle seat, and asked if I would change.  Eventhough I have had a recent history of bad changes on planes, I agreed, because I want to be nice.  Well, they lied to me.  The seat they offered was not theirs, so I was stuck searching for a new seat after a man claimed his seat. 

I was angry.  But I am not one who goes berserk and rants.  I just find the new seat and am relieved it is not an hour flight. 

The book the man next to me is reading catches my eye, Los Pasos del Maestro, by Ray Comfort (The Steps of the Master).  Wait!  I know that author.  He is the man I have seen is many videos challenging people’s beliefs about God.  So, I talk to young man, whose name is José Luis, and discover that he is indeed a Christian.  He is going to Tarija on a conference of psychologists, because he is a Christian Psychologist. My 50-minute flight is taken up with getting to know a man who is a fellow believer. 

I was angry, but God had other plans for me.  Such a little thing as a changed seat can mean so much in my eternity.  I am glad I was introduced to God’s plans.

Day 115 - Noel Kempff Mercado

Noel Kempff Mercado

When I visited the zoo, I discovered it is the Noel Kempff Mercado Zoo.  And around the corner from my apartment is the Noel Kempff Mercado Museum of Natural History.  So I began to wonder who is this man?

Let me tell you what I found out.

A lo largo de su vida impulsó el estudio y la conservación de la naturaleza en Bolivia, como apicultor (fue presidente de la Sociedad Apícola de Bolivia), como catedrático en la Universidad Autónoma Gabriel René Moreno , como director del Jardín Botánico de Santa Cruz y del Zoológico de Santa Cruz y como director de Parques y Jardines del municipio.He was born in February of 1924 and throughout his life maintained a deep love of nature. He promoted the study and conservation of nature in Bolivia.  He moved to the country and began raising bees.  His curiosity about his bees, caused him to research where they looked for nectar.  So he began studying the flowers of his native Santa Cruz.  This in turn led him to the study of botany and eventually zoology.

As a beekeeper, he became the president of the Apicultural Society of Bolivia.   Later in life, he was a biology professor at the Gabriel René Moreno University.  In his last years he was the director of the Botanical Gardens and the Municipal Zoo of Santa Cruz, and the director of parks and gardens for the municipality.  The original Botanical Garden was destroyed in a flood of the River Pirai, but has since been replaced by a garden he would be proud of.  His idea for the zoo and botanical garden was to teach people the need to conserve nature.  He insisted on using only native species in both.  So you will not find an exotic tree from India, or giraffes from Africa.  You will only find species native to eastern Bolivia.

Bees at the Guembe

He wrote many books on the birds, bees, and flowers of Bolivia.   His love for green and for flowers has created so many beautiful areas in Santa Cruz.  One who does not live here, just does not know of the beautiful parks, plazas, and boulevards, overflowing with flowers of every color imaginable.  I am blessed to live by two of them, the Plaza Blacut and Avenida las Americas.

 

Mercado had an idea to protect an area in eastern Bolivia that lies on the border of Brazil.  Some parts are nearly inaccessible, and most likely hold species of plants and animals as yet not classified.  It is an incredibly diverse and remote region.  In his last days that is what he was working on, including convincing both Bolivia and Brazil to work together to create an area of “cross-border management of protected areas.”  That was an idea that neither country was ready for in the 80s.

In 1986, he was flying to the Huanchaca National Park in a small private plane, to conduct some scientific experiments.  His pilot, Juan Cochamanidis, landed them at the wrong airstrip, this one owned by drug traffickers.  Noel Kempff Mercado, his pilot, and his guide, Franklin Parada Auclos, were shot by the traffickers.  Vicente Castelló, a Spanish scientist, was the only survivor.  He dodged bullets and hid in the forest for hours until he was rescued. 

This was a turning point in the history of drug trafficking in Bolivia.  Since then, they have been an ardent warrior in the fight against cocaine production in Bolivia.

The Huanchaca Park was renamed in his honor, now the Noel Kempff Mercado National Park. 

He is quoted as saying, "Animals are not the ones that cause harm; it is man who is the destroyer." 

Adapted from articles in Wikipedia.com and BoliviaBella.com

Day 112 - Onesimus, Part II

Onesimus, Part II

The main character of my new novel is of course, Onesimus.  He is the boy captured and sold into slavery.  As a man, he steals from his master and escapes to a life of dissolution until he runs out of money.  He meets the Apostle Paul, who leads him to Christ.  Though slavery is wrong, Paul convinces him he needs to make his life right with his master, Philemon, even if that means he stays a slave.

Paul is going to be hard to write as one of my main characters.  People know so much about him and have strong opinions about him.  In my novel, he will be met twice; the first time, in his months of starting a church in Ephesus; and the second time, in year of his death by the hand of Nero.  He will know he is about to die and desperately trying to make things right with his churches and with Onesimus.  He is a man of God who sees so much work that needs to be done.

Philemon will be easier for me to write.  He is a rich kid who gets a slave near his age.  He wants a little brother, but he is unable to treat him any different than a slave, because that is the world of first century Rome.  At the end of the novel, he is forced to change.  Read the letter of Philemon sometime.  Paul asks him to accept Onesimus as a brother.  He doesn’t mean a brother by blood or marriage, but a brother in Christ.  That is an amazing thing to think about considering the world they all lived in.

Both Onesimus and Philemon will be characters changed by events.  A character who changes is a dynamic character. 

But what about the other characters?  Who will they be?  The Spartan Sisters had a hundred characters, almost all based on the Trojan War stories of the Greeks and Romans.  What about Onesimus?

Paul gave me a great source of material.  He wrote letters to Philemon, Ephesus, and Colossae.  Those three letters, and a possible lost fourth were sent by the hand of Onesimus about the time of Paul’s death.  Those letters have dozens of names mentioned.  Who are they?  Well I am doing a bit of research to find out who they are.  If there is nothing to be found about them, then watch them become characters created by me.  Thank you, Paul.

Another character I am just now figuring out how to incorporate is Timothy.  He was a constant companion of Paul, who thought of him as a son.  If you have ever led anyone to Christ, they will forever be your child in the faith.  I believe this is how Paul saw Timothy. 

Paul, while imprisoned, sends Timothy to Ephesus to clear up some problems.  Paul put Timothy in charge.  Church history says that Timothy was the first bishop of Ephesus.  The cities of Ephesus and Colossae were close to each other and will be where much of my book takes place.  

What am I adding on my own?  I am making Timothy a runner.  He will also be a childhood friend of Philemon.  Because of their closeness, he resents Onesimus, who has escaped to Rome.  Part of the forgiveness process that Onesimus goes through, includes Timothy.  An interesting note.  Later a man named Onesimus becomes the bishop of Ephesus, following Timothy.  Is it possible they are the same person?  I think yes.

Characters are one of the main elements of any piece of literature.  I am excited to watch my characters develop in the novel, Onesimus.

Day 111 - The Avion Pirata

The Avion Pirata

Come to the First Ring with me and you will see a little plaza that has an airplane sitting in the middle of it.  An airplane?  Why?  Let me tell you the story.

The Avion Pirata was a Lockheed Constellation that had previously flown for Braniff International Airlines before being sold to the Empire Supply Company in 1960.  Planes like this one and others were transporting contraband items to Argentina and Chile, both under oppressive dictatorships at the time.  Usually they would land at the Trompillo Airport on the south side of Santa Cruz in the middle of the night.

This one flight took off in the middle of the day on Saturday, July 29, 1961.  When the dispatcher at the control tower ask they why they were making an unauthorized flight, they said they were just making a practice flight.  He ordered them to land, but they ignored the order. 

Two P-51 Mustang fighter jets were sent to chase the plane.  The plane continued to ignore messages from the tower to land the plane, so the P-51s began to take a few shots at the plane.  Damaged, the plane turned around in the direction of the Trompillo, but the plane dived to try to get the P-51s off their tail, causing one to crash.  Captain Alberto Peredo Céspedes died as his plane crashed.

The plane landed safely and the crew was arrested on the spot.  Mysteriously, all five crew members disappeared without a trace in November of 1961.

How did a pirate airplane land at a military facility?  There was corruption in the ranks. The investigation that followed led to the arrest of 85 soldiers and the dishonorable discharge of another 130. 

Several years later the plane was moved to Boris Banzer Prada Park on the Avenida Uruguay, the eastern section of the First Ring.  It remains a favorite tourist attraction of the people of Santa Cruz.

Adapted from an article en.wikipedia.org