Cochabamba, Morning of Day 4
Today, my last full day in Cochabamba,
my plan was to hit as many places on my list as possible. Both Anna and Sandra had given me a list of
places to see in Cochabamba. I was
managing to click them off the list, one by one. Today was wrap up day. It turned out to be a beautiful and memorable
day.
I started with breakfast at
Wistupiku, traditional Cochabamba breakfast restaurant. I had café con leche and a cuñapé.
My mom asked me the other day if I am drinking coffee now, since I
rarely have done so in the past. I guess
I have. I’ve learned to love a hot
coffee with one of the delicious Bolivian breads.
My first stop was the Cemetery. Bolivian cemeteries are always a feast of the
senses. Beautiful cascades of
bougainvillea over several tombs. The
scent of jasmine wafting with the breeze.
Hundreds of statues, some plain, but some exquisite. A group of young men playing the guitar and
accordion. An elderly woman with a
bouquet of baby’s breath almost as big as she was. Peaceful beauty.
I easily found a taxi upon
leaving the Cemetery. I wanted to find
the Centro Cultural Martadero. My driver
was nice, encouraging me to move to move to Cochabamba, but he let me out a few
blocks away from the Centro. If I did
not have a map with me, I would have been totally lost in a rather sketchy
neighborhood. I found the intersection,
but nothing that looked like an art gallery.
Glancing into a fenced in garden, I saw some sculptures. I guess that was the Centro, but it was
closed.
I found another taxi driver to
take me to my next destination across the river. Wouldn’t you know it, my taxi driver was a
missionary pastor, starting his own church. How many national missionaries have I encountered now as taxi drivers? I don't remember.
The Casona Mayorazga was the
first house built for a Spaniard in Cochabamba, meaning it dates from the
mid-1500s. It is the Spanish colonial
style that I love, a house built around a patio, with all the rooms opening to
the patio. It is how I would build a
house if I had the money. I was not that
impressed by the art on display, but there were two rooms filled with old
photographs. I felt transported back to
a beautiful past in Cochabamba.
Not far away was the Templo Cala
Cala, a modern church set in a shady garden, facing a nice little park. It was closed, probably in preparation for
Easter services that would begin that night.
As I was walking in the
neighborhood, not quite ready to seek out a taxi, I stumbled upon a park about
a mile long, called Lincoln Park. Like
so many parks and plazas in Bolivia, it was filled with trees, flowers, and
shady benches to relax. A block away,
running parallel to the park is the Avenida America, a street filled with
luxury high rises, boutiques, and restaurants.
I could imagine my mom living in one of these high rises, walking in the
park on a sunny morning, shopping in the stores, and lunching at one of the
restaurants. Wanna move here, Mom?
At first, I was disappointed at
the Botanical Garden. That could be
because my taxi driver put me out on a side street. The gate opened into piles of trash, stinky
bathrooms, and an empty pool. But there
was actually more to the garden, once I got away from that area. There were lovely walks under the palms, beds
of flowers, bees, and pretty statues.
I was ready for a break. Lunch and a nap.
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