Rally Race to a Small Piece of Heaven
As the train stumbled into Santa Cruz, we were awakened by loud, projecting, voices. Somewhere along the rails, a legion of "snake oil" salesmen had boarded the Death Train. Most were unsuccessful in peddling their wares, but this particular fellow had talent. He was selling a "de-worming" powder, not for your dog but for you! His graphic detailed description of how dogs supposedly get rid of worms and how this powder would help each person do the same rendered the locals helpless to opening up their wallets. From the sounds of it, he was selling little more than a powdered laxative, but hey, "here's to creating consumer demand".
Santa Cruz proved to be little more than a breakfast refueling place and transfer station for a taxi to the pueblo of Samaipata. Literally the end of the line, the train pulled out of the station in the same direction in which it had come, moments after arrival.
The four of us crammed our gear and selves into a Toyota taxi, bracing ourselves for the two and a half hour drive. Leaving Santa Cruz, we had no idea that our driver fancied himself more of a rally racer than a passenger conveying businessman. Straddling the backseat hump, we raced along straight aways and unapologetically accelerated our way out of corners.
The rainy season, a few months back, had brought tremendous flooding and landslides. In many places the road was still washed out, with little signs of a definitive repair to date. The driver must have taken this as his dirt-slide permission slip.
Approaching Samaipata, massive sandstone cliffs rose above lush forests. These rocks were impressive and captivating.
Initially, the town of Samaipata appears to be an unimpressive backwater.
But, approaching the main square the streets begin to be cobbled and a respectable iglesia presents.
Then, a marvelous town appears, focused on the main square. The buildings and picturesque locale was so impressive that it reminded me of the town square in Sonoma, CA, but only this was more scenic.
Wandering off the town center one can find "true country life" being lived out in the form of small tiendas.
Moss appears to grow uninhibited here, covering any space it can get a purchase.
What makes this town even more charming, to me, is the attention to detail. Instead of straight iron bars, railing balusters curve and leaf.
Solid, single trunk, beams are carved in support of porches.
Then the prize for ingenuity definitely goes to the construction team of this native crafts building. Somehow, they managed to incorporate carved wood pieces, woven baskets, and metal work into the mortar and stone construction. This must be a facade, but still its an impressively innovative one for any part of the world, much less the deep countryside of Bolivia.
Our hostel was a random, "walk in" affair that proved successful. This view, through the front door, of the inside courtyard convinced us to take a second look.
Adobe brick and tile were timeless in their quaint appeal.
And, importantly, the lower structure was spotlessly kempt and clean. This jewel of a lodging spot only cost the equivalent of $3.50 USD per night, a real find. We could all definitely cozy up for a good recuperative sleep, to make up for the deprivation of the previous night.
Actually... I just liked this street dog and his expression in the picture.
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