I had a visit to the Mercado Central this morning to grab a saltena (a kind of an empanada with meat or chicken, gravy and potatoes inside) and to see the market on a working day. I had been there on Saturday but it was a sad affair then, with the odd Quechua farmer selling a handful of raggedy beets. Today was a much more lively affair, as a lot of folks from the outskirts come into town on a Monday to get shopping, bank business etc done, and the market was in full swing. Still can't quite get over the heaps of unrefrigerated beef and chicken being sold, but I guess that's what you get when you're ordering beef at $3 a kilo (!).
I am off to Potosi shortly, which amongst other things is the highest city of its size in the world at an average of 4000m or 13100ft. The Irazoque family kindly furnished me with some altitude pills, and I think my mate de coca consumption rate will skyrocket there. In Potosi it will definitely be a case of slow and steady wins the race.
First of all yesterday’s post should have been titled “First photos from Sucre“, not “Potosi”. I guess I was already thinking ahead to the next place on my itinerary.
Yesterday afternoon while up on the hill in Recoleto enjoying the view, I bumped into a pair of interesting Brits, John and Lisa. John lives over here and is a junior doctor doing volunteer work. He used to be in the air force which is where he met Lisa, who’s over for a visit before she ships back over to the UK and eventually Afghanistan to help with community development work. We met for dinner last night and due to the dearth of open restaurants (everyone in Bolivia is having dinner with their folks over New Years weekend) we ended up on Gringo Alley. Not too bad though as the restaurant we found (La Bodega Veija) was a mixed local/gringo affair. I finally got to sample one of the Bolivian national dishes, pique macho, which is basically multiple types of meat intermixed with lots of grilled onions, bell peppers, chillies, and french fries, all soaking in a picante sauce. Topped with a boiled egg. Heart attack on a plate. I must admit it defeated me. And the chocolate fondue which followed was not my idea.
To recover we are doing a mini trip today of about 60km over to the town of Tarabuco which is famed for its Sunday market, showcasing indigenous handicrafts from this region. The textiles are supposed to be very well crafted and it is just possible I may actually start buying stuff to bring back with me. Space is tight in my pack though so it will have to be good. Plus I have yet to buy any ethnic tat so this would be a big step for me.
