a life in words: the samaipata detox

28th May - 2nd June 2012

Samaipata, Bolivia

All good things must come to an end and so on the 27th May 2012, I bid farewell to Laura and James for the last time and boarded an overnight bus heading East towards the city of Santa Cruz. With just over two weeks remaining on this trip, I was eager to hit the road again as there were still much I wanted to see and do before stepping onto that plane in Rio; a final step which would bring all of this to a fitting end. With my liver and bank balance reeling from a few heavy nights in the chaos bowl, I decided to make a pit stop in the peaceful town of Samaipata - which rests about 120km West of Santa Cruz - for a few days to relax and conserve money before pushing on towards Paraguay and the mighty falls of Iguazu. With no direct bus to Samaipata from La Paz, it was necessary to head into the heaving metropolis of Santa Cruz where I would then be able to catch a taxi over to the tranquil hill station which nestles within an idyllic forest valley. Arriving into the oppressive heat of Santa Cruz on the morning of the 28th after an epic 17 hour slog from La Paz, I made my way into the centre of town after managing to catch one of the micros (minivan) which were parked outside the bus terminal; although getting the driver to understand where I wanted to go involved my usual mess of kindergarten Spanish and manic arm gestures. I have really struggled with the language since arriving in South America and in hindsight, if I ever come back, I'm definitely going to take some Spanish lessons before I do so. Although I have done and seen some amazing things while here, I feel that half the experience of travelling rests in being able to talk to local people, hearing stories that really show you how the other side live; something which I have unfortunately been unable to do because of the soaring language barrier that loomed every time I opened my mouth. Although certain basic phrases made their way under my belt, I would love nothing more than to be able to have a proper conversation with any one of the numerous curious locals who have approached me looking for a chat. A shameful 'No hablo castellano' was all I could often muster to my repeated frustration. Looking back, one of the things I loved about India was that a lot of people spoke English there which meant that I was often invited for a cup of chai or some food by inquisitive locals and taking those measured leaps of faith led to some fantastic conversations and experiences. Drifting from one gringo hostel to another within South America has made learning Spanish quite difficult for me as English, in it's all encompassing universality, dominates most conversations in backpacker hostels. In saying that, I met quite a few people who had bravely broken away from the safety bubble of English speaking tourists by doing several home stays with local families which sounds like a fantastic and very effective way of learning a new language and is something I would honestly love to do in the future.

After being dropped off by the Plaza 24 de Septiembre, I located the central tourist office to find out the best way of getting to Samaipata and was told that shared taxis left for the hill station from the corner of Omar Chavez Ortiz and Soliz de Olguin and only cost 30Bs (£3) per person, a mere 5Bs more than the local bus. Getting the lady in the tourist office to mark this corner on my map, I strolled down the length of calle Independencia and rounding a corner I came across two other travelers sat in the shade of a crumbling wall outside the taxi office. It soon emerged that the vans didn't leave until five people needed to go and so I took a seat next to them while we waited for others to show up. At around 2pm after chatting with the French hippies who were planning on doing some camping outside Samaipata, two more people finally turned up and we all piled into the van and headed West out of the city. A couple of hours later, after powering our way up the winding valley road, we finally arrived in the small town of Samaipata just as the sun was closing the day. After trying a few fully booked lodgings, I finally settled in at the peaceful Hostel Andorina where I was greeted by the slightly strange but pleasant enough Dutch Andreas who showed me to my room. I spent about five days in this sleepy but charming town and the following photographs document my Samaipata detox.

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Welcome to Samaipata.

The location of Samaipata within Bolivia.

On the second night in the sleepy town, the usually quiet central square burst into action to celebrate 400 years since the founding of the town. A stage had been erected where bands and comedians entertained the crowds who had turned up for the event.

Along with a German/French couple I met at the hostel, spent the Wednesday morning at a local animal sanctuary which rested 20 minutes walk out of town.

Entering the zoo.

The idyllic little sanctuary had a few monkey houses for the more aggressive primates but there were about ten others that were allowed to roam around the grounds as they pleased

Like this little fella.

They were inquisitive little creatures who loved to play with anyone.

Hostel Andorina were I stayed for £4 a night!

The Andorina courtyard. Stairs at the back of the photograph led up to a balcony where I spent many hours swinging in the hammocks and FINALLY finishing the epic Shantaram.