Livin' the Simple Life
First off, yes I am home safe in Colorado, yes I am a horrible blogger, yes life is good yet crazy. Here are some very overdue stories!
In July, Magno (a great shoe shiner friend) invited us to visit his 'pueblo' (pueblo = small town), where he grew up. Magno is a 20 year old shoe shiner living in La Paz with his mother and siblings and going to school. His father still lives in the Yungas (Bolivian jungle) where Magno grew up. His father, Don Augustine, farms the land that he owns in the jungle. He mostly harvests coca leaves, but also has oranges, mandarines, bananas, coffee beans, cotton, etc.
When Magno invited us to visit his pueblo, we were all for it. Ross, David, and I decided to make the trip into the jungle. David and Ross were leading a backpacking trip that weekend, so they just stayed down in the jungle. Magno and I met up with them in Chulumani and then found transportation to take us deeper into the jungle. After a total of 7 hours on the road, we arrived at Magno's pueblo just as darkness blanketed the landscape. It was so incredible to see Magno's roots. We walked up to a tiny adobe house. Magno opened the door and invited us into their humble home. It was 4 adobe walls which formed a room about 12' X 24' feet. There was a straw mattress on one end, a table in the middle of the room, a small gas stove, and construction supplies at the other end of the room.
Upon arriving on the first night, we realized that there was no gas for the stove. We walked through the small town, greeting and receiving greetings from all that we passed, as the natives starred in shock, as we were probably the first gringos (white people) to ever stay in the town. We went to a few small shops and finally found a tank of gas. We carried in back to the house on the other edge of town. Next, we made a trip to the river to bathe. It was very dark and the water was shockingly cold, but we enjoyed our refreshing river bath. We then made our way up to the house again to cook dinner. We had brought pasta and vegetables from the city to make a simple yet delicious soup. After dinner we walked through the town again found a group of guys to talk to. They were very nice and very interested to tell us about the coca industry and to hear about the United States. Because we were planning to get up very early the next day we said goodnight and made our way back to the house. When we arrived, Magno's father was sitting outside the door. He had just made the trip back from the city. It was such a pleasure to meet him. Soon after we crawled into our sleeping bags and went to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to a dark room. Magno was making oatmeal and quietly talking to his father in Aymara (one of the native Bolivian languages). We all got out of bed, drank some oatmeal, and then got ready to make the trip up to Don Augustine's farm. We departed from the town at about 730 and began to hike. He hiked along the road for a while, then crossed over the river, and then hiked up a very steep and narrow trail to the farm. The trip was very challenging, especially w
ith the hot and humid weather. After about 3 hours of hiking, we finally arrived at Magno's place. His house was a beautiful, humble, adobe structure, atop a huge luciously green mountain, surrounded by all kinds of crops and trees full of delicious fruits. At Magno's house we made lunch - a delicious feast of pasta with vegetables and roasted bananas. Then Magno taught us how to harvest oranges. We picked about 50 oranges and then made incredible fresh squeezed orange juice. Before heading down the mountain we took a little nap. We overslept a little, but soon woke up and made the hike down. Remember how it took us 3 hours to get up the mountain? Well, to get down, it took about 45 minutes... because we ran the whole way, down the steep and narrow path. What an adventure. We arrived at the river and had a little swim. Then we made our way to the 'canastilla'. This is a device that the locals use to cross the river. It's a small cart with a pulley system over a thick cable. The crossing was probably about 150 feet across and 40 feet high over the river. What an adventure! The cart ziplined about half way across the rive
r, and then we pulled ourselves the rest of the way. Although the device may not look very safe, I can assure you that Magno kept us in very good hands. We finished the walk home along the road and arrived about dark. Again, we bathed in the river and made dinner. We were planning on making the trip home that night, but transportation through the town isn't very predictable. We ended up staying one more night.
We had our bags packed and we were ready to jump on a truck as soon as it passed. I woke up again around 7am to Magno making breakfast. We ate and intently listened for trucks to pass. The time had come. Magno ran outside, flagged down the truck, and yelled for us to grab our bags. We quickly gave our thanks and goodbyes to Magno and his father. We threw our bags on the truck and jumped in as the truck quickly departed down the bumpy, dirt road. Now, I don't think you quite understand how we travelled. We were in the back of a cargo truck (something that you might think chickens ride in) with about 50 indigenous Bolivian people.
We sat on our bags and faught for any kind of room to get comfortable. It was a very interesting and cheap way to travel. Most of the other passengers thought we were crazy. Why would the rich gringos be riding with us in this truck? But it was such an experience and one that I would gladly repeat.
Well, we arrived safely back in La Paz around 330pm. We had returned to the hustle and bustle of the big city. Life in Magno's pueblo was quite different - very simple and humble, but incredibly interesting and enjoyable. It was such an honor to see and experience Magno's roots in the Yungas.
In July, Magno (a great shoe shiner friend) invited us to visit his 'pueblo' (pueblo = small town), where he grew up. Magno is a 20 year old shoe shiner living in La Paz with his mother and siblings and going to school. His father still lives in the Yungas (Bolivian jungle) where Magno grew up. His father, Don Augustine, farms the land that he owns in the jungle. He mostly harvests coca leaves, but also has oranges, mandarines, bananas, coffee beans, cotton, etc.
When Magno invited us to visit his pueblo, we were all for it. Ross, David, and I decided to make the trip into the jungle. David and Ross were leading a backpacking trip that weekend, so they just stayed down in the jungle. Magno and I met up with them in Chulumani and then found transportation to take us deeper into the jungle. After a total of 7 hours on the road, we arrived at Magno's pueblo just as darkness blanketed the landscape. It was so incredible to see Magno's roots. We walked up to a tiny adobe house. Magno opened the door and invited us into their humble home. It was 4 adobe walls which formed a room about 12' X 24' feet. There was a straw mattress on one end, a table in the middle of the room, a small gas stove, and construction supplies at the other end of the room.
Upon arriving on the first night, we realized that there was no gas for the stove. We walked through the small town, greeting and receiving greetings from all that we passed, as the natives starred in shock, as we were probably the first gringos (white people) to ever stay in the town. We went to a few small shops and finally found a tank of gas. We carried in back to the house on the other edge of town. Next, we made a trip to the river to bathe. It was very dark and the water was shockingly cold, but we enjoyed our refreshing river bath. We then made our way up to the house again to cook dinner. We had brought pasta and vegetables from the city to make a simple yet delicious soup. After dinner we walked through the town again found a group of guys to talk to. They were very nice and very interested to tell us about the coca industry and to hear about the United States. Because we were planning to get up very early the next day we said goodnight and made our way back to the house. When we arrived, Magno's father was sitting outside the door. He had just made the trip back from the city. It was such a pleasure to meet him. Soon after we crawled into our sleeping bags and went to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to a dark room. Magno was making oatmeal and quietly talking to his father in Aymara (one of the native Bolivian languages). We all got out of bed, drank some oatmeal, and then got ready to make the trip up to Don Augustine's farm. We departed from the town at about 730 and began to hike. He hiked along the road for a while, then crossed over the river, and then hiked up a very steep and narrow trail to the farm. The trip was very challenging, especially w
ith the hot and humid weather. After about 3 hours of hiking, we finally arrived at Magno's place. His house was a beautiful, humble, adobe structure, atop a huge luciously green mountain, surrounded by all kinds of crops and trees full of delicious fruits. At Magno's house we made lunch - a delicious feast of pasta with vegetables and roasted bananas. Then Magno taught us how to harvest oranges. We picked about 50 oranges and then made incredible fresh squeezed orange juice. Before heading down the mountain we took a little nap. We overslept a little, but soon woke up and made the hike down. Remember how it took us 3 hours to get up the mountain? Well, to get down, it took about 45 minutes... because we ran the whole way, down the steep and narrow path. What an adventure. We arrived at the river and had a little swim. Then we made our way to the 'canastilla'. This is a device that the locals use to cross the river. It's a small cart with a pulley system over a thick cable. The crossing was probably about 150 feet across and 40 feet high over the river. What an adventure! The cart ziplined about half way across the rive
r, and then we pulled ourselves the rest of the way. Although the device may not look very safe, I can assure you that Magno kept us in very good hands. We finished the walk home along the road and arrived about dark. Again, we bathed in the river and made dinner. We were planning on making the trip home that night, but transportation through the town isn't very predictable. We ended up staying one more night.We had our bags packed and we were ready to jump on a truck as soon as it passed. I woke up again around 7am to Magno making breakfast. We ate and intently listened for trucks to pass. The time had come. Magno ran outside, flagged down the truck, and yelled for us to grab our bags. We quickly gave our thanks and goodbyes to Magno and his father. We threw our bags on the truck and jumped in as the truck quickly departed down the bumpy, dirt road. Now, I don't think you quite understand how we travelled. We were in the back of a cargo truck (something that you might think chickens ride in) with about 50 indigenous Bolivian people.
We sat on our bags and faught for any kind of room to get comfortable. It was a very interesting and cheap way to travel. Most of the other passengers thought we were crazy. Why would the rich gringos be riding with us in this truck? But it was such an experience and one that I would gladly repeat.Well, we arrived safely back in La Paz around 330pm. We had returned to the hustle and bustle of the big city. Life in Magno's pueblo was quite different - very simple and humble, but incredibly interesting and enjoyable. It was such an honor to see and experience Magno's roots in the Yungas.
posted by Unknown | 1:58 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home