Bolivia (2013)

Journey to Bolivia: Moon Goddesses, Titicaca, Shamans, Floating Islands, the Original Copacabana, long-lost Cousins, and other Oddities

After a wonderful visit to Peru, Fran and I travelled to the only country in South America that we had not seen: Bolivia. A landlocked country in the middle of the continent, Bolivia is a poor but beautiful nation with a rich history extending from the pre-Columbian people to today’s controversial Socialist government. We had many memorable experiences there.

Heading south from Peru, we traveled along the coastline of Lake Titicaca. At an altitude of 12,500 feet, Lake Titicaca is the biggest lake in South America. It’s also the highest navigable body of water in the world for large ships. Diego, our Peruvian guide joked that the “Titi” part of the name is from Peru, but “caca” is Bolivian. He didn’t have to explain that “caca” is the Spanish word for sh-t. After going through customs at the frontier border, we arrived at Copacabana, Bolivia, a town of 6,000 mostly indigenous Amerindian people, on the western shore of Lake Titicaca.

You might think the community was named for the famous Copacabana Beach in Brazil, but actually it’s the reverse. The name “Copacabana” means either “view of the lake” in the local Aymara Indian language, or it may be derived from the name of the mythological god of fertility of the Andes Mountains. After Spain conquered the area around 1550, a large Catholic church was built in the lakeside village. The church’s Shrine of the Dark Virgin of Copacabana became revered. Requests asked of her would seemingly be fulfilled. Under the local Aymara practice of “reciprocation”, if my wish becomes true, I must give gifts in return. So the Copacabana church became wealthy as people rewarded it with money, jewelry, livestock, or at least penance. Such was its fame that a chapel with another Virgin of Copacabana was built on the Brazilian coast. That shrine later gave its name to the beach. As far as other famous Copacabanas, like the former nightclub in New York City, the Groucho Marx movie, or the Barry Manilow song, I assume their name came from the Brazilian beach rather than the town in Bolivia, but maybe not…

From Copacabana we boarded a hydrofoil ship that sped us across Lake Titicaca. We stopped at the Island of the Moon. It was here that Viracocha, the great creator god of the pre-Inca mythology, made the moon rise and set. The natives, naturally, built a Temple of the Moon. It was staffed only by carefully chosen young women known, for some contrary reason, as the “Virgins of the Sun”. They, of course, performed ceremonies dedicated to the solar god.

Another stop was at the Island of the Sun. If you climb 206 steep, uneven rock steps, at the top you find the Sacred Fountain, believed to be the fountain of youth. Unfortunately, with my bad ankle, I didn’t even try, so I still retain my old looks. I don’t want to appear younger than my grandkids anyway.

Instead, we carefully clambered up another steep set of “only” about 75 steps, many without a railing to lean on. Our reward was not youth but a lovely outdoor lunch with a breathtaking view of the huge, very blue lake. In the distance was the massive snow-capped Royal Range of the Andes Mountains. According to legend, it was here that the sun god, Manco Kapac, and his sister-wife, (yes, his sister-wife) Mama Ocllo, founded the great Inca Empire. The Incas united the local tribes through force and administrative skill. Ultimately, they ruled a vast area of South America for 150 years, from Colombia and Ecuador in the north, down through much of Chile and Argentina in the south. In this period from about 1400 A.D. until their final fall to the Spanish, the Incas’ governance was accomplished by their abilities in the 3 important “A’s” of empire-building: agriculture, architecture, and administration.

Reboarding our ship, we soon docked at the shoreside Hotel Inca Utama. Although the rooms were fairly basic, at an altitude of 12,500 feet, the hotel claims to have the highest elevator in the world! More important for me, in an adjoining hut lives a shaman with whom one can consult. The entry room is filled with various artifacts used by the seer: coca leaves (also used to make cocaine or brewed to make a tea that prevents altitude sickness), feathers, sacred stones, herbs, roots, bones, and other fetishes. Señor Benjamin, as he is known, learned the medical and divining arts from his father. They both were members of a unique tribe of healers. He asked us who had a problem that he might help with. As no one else ventured forward, I came up and sat before him. Although Señor Benjamin doesn’t really work for money, I placed a US $1.00 bill in front of him to comply with the ancient Amerindian idea of reciprocity. “Señor Benjamin”, I said through a translator, “over a year ago I had a big problem with my ankle and had surgery on it. Although it is somewhat improved, it is still far from perfect.” I ended with my question: “Will my ankle get better, or will I still need a walking stick?” The shaman peered closely at me, then proceeded to tear small coca leaves off a branch and throw them towards me. If the leaf landed with the dark green side up, it was a good indicator. If the lighter, almost translucent side was up, it was a bad sign. Also contributing to the traditional healer’s thought process was where the leaves landed and the direction that they pointed. After due deliberation, he looked at me and opined slowly: “You must have patience. You must have patience. Your ankle will get better, but you must not rush it.” I thanked him, rose, and slowly returned to my seat.

Later, one of the ladies in our group asked Iver, our local guide: “Is it true that the traditional indigenous people, especially the shamans, believe that a U.S. $2 bill is considered a valuable and rare good luck omen?”  Iver stated that it was indeed the case. A couple of weeks previously my friend Jerry had given me a $2 bill in change. I just stuck it in my wallet. So the next morning Iver found Señor Benjamin and I gave him the $2 bill. He smiled broadly, kissed it, and placed it carefully in his pocket. I’m pretty sure that this small gesture will help make the shaman’s prediction come true.

There were other nice surprises on the grounds of Hotel Inca Utama. Small herds of alpacas and llamas lived in enclosures. They are raised for their meat and their fur. We ate steaks made from both animals. The meat is low cholesterol and quite delicious, especially when served with a nice sauce. Another interesting dish we ate, whilst in Cusco, Peru, was called cuy (pronounced Koo-ee). Cuy is roast guinea pig. They are farm-raised, and the Peruvians love it, but to us cuy is not as tasty as the meat from the larger animals. And to our daughter, Kim, who once had a pet guinea pig, eating one is an act of sacrilege.

For thousands of years the local people raised llamas and alpacas. Providing food and fur for their human owners, they were also used as pack animals, surefootedly hauling heavy loads of goods over the treacherous mountain trails. Although llamas and alpacas have long been domesticated, their cousins in the camel family, the guanacos and vicuñas, have not. Perhaps it’s similar to horses becoming domesticated while their zebra cousins remain wild. One surprising fact about the pre-Columbian people of the Western Hemisphere is that they never rode any animals, even domesticated ones like llamas. It was not until the Spaniards brought horses to the Americas after 1500 that the Amerindians began riding instead of using their own legs.

An even more surprising sight awaited us on the lakeside shores of this unpretentious hotel: full size boats constructed only of long green tortura reeds. You may recall that the Norwegian anthropologist-adventurer Thor Heyerdahl theorized that the people of Polynesia sailed across the Pacific Ocean from South America. Later, he expanded his idea to suggest that people from Africa floated to South America in watercraft made of reeds or Egyptian papyrus. The people living by Lake Titicaca have made reed boats for 5000 years, so Heyerdahl brought some of them to Morocco to prove his thesis. Although the reed boats didn’t make it all the way across the Atlantic, they are quite seaworthy. Heyerdahl’s ideas have generally not been accepted (most anthropologists state that the Polynesians came from Southeast Asia), but the big reed boats continue to be made here by the same two brothers who travelled to Morocco several years ago. However, I think they went to Africa by airplane.

The next morning we set out by motorboat across the southern end of Lake Titicaca to visit a tribe of people who live a unique life-style. Hundreds of years ago the Uro Indians were forced off their land by their more warlike neighbors, the Aymaras. Being fishermen, instead of fleeing the area, the Uros figured out a way to live right on the lake: they took thousands of the leafy reeds and laid them together in such an intricate manner that they created new floating islands! Today the Uro people still construct and live on these islands. Some of the reeds become waterlogged or unusable so new reeds are added every day. The roots of the plants extend down through the water, eventually attaching to the soil at the lake bottom, so while the reed islands float, they do not float away.

Alighting on the island, we stepped gingerly as we expected our weight would submerge our feet into water. But the reeds are thick enough that it was more like walking on a spongy lawn than a waterlogged field. There were several huts on the island to house the families. Of course, these small dwellings were made of reeds, as were the beds and chairs inside. One hut on the edge of the island served as an outhouse. Cooking was done outside on a platform raised slightly above the plants. With all that water surrounding, there’s little danger of fire. The Uros eat the tall reeds, but only the first 3 feet, the most flavorful and nutritious part of the plant.

Next we were introduced to the chief of the Uros. He was a nice looking man, with chiseled South American Indian features. Upon learning that he spoke Spanish as well as the Uro and Aymara languages, I decided to practice my Spanish. “Como se llama?” (“What is your name?”), I inquired. “Me llamo Ricardo” (“I am called Richard”), he replied. I started laughing. Ricardo looked at me quizzically, obviously wondering why his name would provoke laughter from his Norte Americano visitor. I decided to use our guide Iver to translate my explanation. “Please tell Ricardo that we have the same name: Richard and Ricardo are the same, and my last name, Juro, is pronounced Yurow (or Uro) in Spanish. So both of us are called Ricardo Uro. Maybe we are long-lost cousins!” With that, Ricardo laughed too, we shook hands and embraced warmly.

Ricardo then introduced me to his wife and children. He proudly explained that the kids paddle their own small reed boats over to the mainland every morning where they are picked up by a bus and taken to school. The process is reversed in the afternoon. Later we sat in one of the larger reed boats and Ricardo’s neighbor paddled us around the island. It was a smooth and very comfy ride.

During the day the Uro men catch fish with nets or with small 4-pronged spears. They also look for bird and duck eggs, and throw bolos to bring down birds whilst in mid-flight. Even the beautiful Andean flamingos succumb to this ancient hunting method. The Uros take some of the fish and birds to shore in their reed boats. They are traded to the landlubbers for clothes, manufactured goods, or for money. Among other things, the money is used for bus rides to visit other Uros living many miles away on other reed islands on Lake Titicaca. Although most clothes are now manufactured elsewhere, the Uros still make their hats out of reeds.

The Uros have learned a good way to predict the future weather. They watch to see how high the nests of the local tokay birds are built on the reeds. If the nest is relatively low, there will not be much rain. But if the nests are high on the reeds, it means a very rainy season is coming that will raise the level of the lake. Pretty clever!

Not only have the Uros and the Aymaras learned to co-exist, but they have maintained their life-styles in a profitable manner. The Aymaras get paid to bring the tourists to the reed islands, and the Uros earn money for showing their traditional ways. This is eco-tourism in its best form. Uro means “first”, and this tribe has figured out how to keep their ancient customs and mores alive and well in the present, and, hopefully, far into the future.

According to our guide Iver, the economy of Bolivia today is a similar “Andean capitalism” to what was practiced by the local Aymara tribe for the last 1000 years. Known as “duality”, there is both private property and community property. On a national scale, Bolivian President Evo Morales, who is half Aymara himself, preaches a very left-leaning foreign policy, similar to that of Venezuela. But internally, private property is respected. In fact, Iver, whose wife is Swedish-Bolivian, is planning to move to Stockholm to start running Scandinavian tours to Bolivia. Now that’s showing some good capitalist initiative!

Bolivia had slavery until 1952. Serious discrimination against indigenous people existed until the 1990’s. Now discrimination of any kind — racial, gender, sexual preference, religion, etc. — is punishable by law. The average income has risen from $150 to $450 per year. Bolivia is making progress politically and economically, but is still a very poor country. More than half the population lives below the poverty line. Many of the doctors are from Cuba. In exchange, Bolivia sends rice. The important exports are natural gas and minerals like tin, zinc, silver, and gold. President Morales renegotiated the contracts with the big mining companies so that Bolivia’s share of the value of the ores went from 11% to over 50%. Inflation is down to 5%, the gross domestic product shows a 5% increase, and unemployment is only 6%. But Bolivia is rated a lowly #163 out of 189 world economies as far as difficulty of doing business. So while internationally Bolivia leans left, inside the country it’s capitalist as well as socialist. Confusing to us, but it seems to be working. There is an USA embassy, but there is presently no American ambassador.

The next day we drove to a large archaeological site. The Tiwanuku culture lasted about 4,400 years, from 3000 B.C. to 1400 A.D. The digs have uncovered large temples, pottery, mummies, and even pyramids. 100,000 people lived here in its heyday. There was advanced agriculture with irrigation. Construction of buildings was done by fitting huge stone blocks perfectly together without mortar, a method that was passed onto the Incas that succeeded them.

On a grisly note, the Tiwanuku practiced human sacrifice. Heads were decapitated at the altar atop the pyramid, then rolled down a tunnel. After they decomposed, carved stone heads were mounted on the walls of the temple in memory of the deceased. I’d say it was rather a dubious honor, but they do live on in perpetuity.

This culture was advanced enough to have calendars that indicated the past and projected dates of the seasonal solstices. But they were unable to foresee or adapt to the climate change that affected them beginning about 1,000 A.D. The prolonged drought made people believe that their gods had abandoned them, so the Tiwanuku, in turn, abandoned their culture and this huge complex.

The current global warming trend is affecting this area of Bolivia too. The 18,000 feet high ski run, which was the highest in the world, no longer exists. The glaciers in the mountains are receding, and will probably be gone in 40 years.

The large Tiwanuku site has only been 5% excavated, yet is already very impressive. No archaeologists are currently working there. Why? The progressive national government has deeded the land back to the local indigenous people. These folks are unwilling to have any more digging in their ancestral land. So although there is an excellent little museum displaying many of the small finds, there are few visitors, and no scientists uncovering any more of the remarkable history.

The Tiwanuku lived at an elevation of 12,500 feet above sea level, the same height as that of nearby Lake Titicaca. In our small group of 8, the bright sun combined with the high altitude affected two people so much that they needed oxygen and rest, and could not walk around the site.

In the afternoon, we left the area and drove across the high plateau to the city of LaPaz. The administrative capital of Bolivia, LaPaz is a fast-growing metropolis of 4 million people. Almost half live in a 12,000 foot high suburb called Los Altos (“the high places”). And 96% of the Los Altos people are of local Amerindian stock, which makes it the highest number and concentration of indigenous people anywhere. Like other big cities in underdeveloped countries, poor people from the countryside keep coming to the capital in search of jobs and a better life. Most of the rest of the LaPaz inhabitants are of Spanish or mestizo (mixed Spanish-Indian) heritage.

The people of Bolivia’s big neighbors to the west and south, Chile and Argentina, are almost all of Spanish or other European descent, as most of the original inhabitants  were killed or succumbed to European diseases. Brazilians’ ancestors were primarily Africans imported into slavery, plus Portuguese, Amerindian, and other ethnicities, with many now of mixed heritage. Although other countries of South America do still have some people of pure Amerindian blood, Bolivia has the highest concentration of them.

LaPaz is built around high canyons that add to its natural beauty amidst urban sprawl. We took a spectacular drive on the outside rims of the city, gasping at the breathtaking panoramas, all framed by the majestic Illimani mountain. Stopping, we walked the “Valley of the Moon”, an amazing geological landscape of clay and rock formations that resemble the surface of the moon.

In downtown LaPaz 300 year old churches sit next to modern office buildings. The traffic is congested due to the narrow colonial streets and the increasing number of cars. The “Witches Market” consists of many small shops selling herbs, potions, and other remedies to the believers and the curious.

There are several tiny museums on a small street called Calle Jean. The Gold and Precious Metals museum was closed for remodeling, and the musical instruments museum was shuttered for an unknown reason. We did visit two others. The Museo de Littoral had an interesting collection of old Spanish army swords and pistols. The House of Don Pedro Murillo contained furniture and clothing from the colonial era. Calle Jean itself was a unique street to stroll, with old buildings, cobblestones, and quite a few little cafes and artisans’ workshops. At the bottom of the street we found the gallery of the well-known Aymara artist, Manami Manami. After due deliberation, we purchased an exquisite painting which now adorns our house.

Being Jewish, we tried to visit the local synagogue, Circulo Israelita. Although we had the exact address, our taxi driver had a lot of trouble finding it. Eventually we located the small brick structure. There was no identifying sign. An armed security guard sat outside in a little shack. He showed us that the building was completely locked up. I wasn’t even allowed to take a picture of it. Apparently, Jews are now few in number and the house of worship, although still in use for Sabbath services, is not a safe place. Ironically, when I asked Iver where most of the tourists to Bolivia come from, he told me adult Germans and young Israelis. Thousands of backpackers in their twenties come from Israel to Buenos Aires, then make their way to Bolivia, and finally go on to Chile or Peru. Fran and I decided not to regress to our original tourism methods when we traveled around Europe on $5 a day (yes, you could really do it in 1966). We returned to our very nice hotel for our final night in Bolivia.

At an altitude of 12,500 feet, LaPaz is the highest capital city in the world. But the altitude also prevents departing airplanes from being in the sky for more than 2-3 hours. Just a final strange oddity that we learned while visiting the fascinating land of Bolivia.