Publicado: 17.12.2017
From the Bolivian capital, we drive to the actual capital of the country - Sucre. We have already heard a lot of good things about this white city of science with its impressive colonial architecture.
At first glance, our hostel looks quite nice and has a large green courtyard. The rooms are totally okay! Only the sanitary facilities could be better. The toilet cubicles next to our room are so small that when using them, our knees and noses touch the door. Maybe it's better to use the only spacious toilet downstairs? Oh no, wait, it's the shower toilet, with the shower above the bowl, everything is underwater. Welcome, traveler. Such incidents are part of long-term backpacking trips, but we are already familiar with them and sometimes we've had enough. How nice it would be to have a clean bathroom, how nice it would be to have a shower with warm water, and how nice it would be to have a healthy breakfast with real brewed coffee :) But let's stop dreaming...
Nevertheless, Sucre is a beautiful little town, that cannot be denied! With an impressive main square and various colonial buildings shining in white, the city center has a lot to offer visually. There are also nice bars and restaurants! However, after so many beautiful colonial towns in the past months, Sucre doesn't really amaze us. In addition, there is the constant fear of getting parasites or salmonella again. Nowadays, we avoid the quaint local restaurants, even though it's nonsense and it can happen anytime in a touristy place. But you become easily paranoid. It may sound bad, but we're doing well here, wandering through the alleys and enjoying the beautiful summer weather. Only Kathrin is still not feeling better, so she finally decides to move up her return journey and books the flights back.
On Saturday, there is a small market in the village of Tarabuco, very close to Sucre, which is highly sought after by both the locals and tourists. You can get there by Colectivo, a minibus that leaves when it's full. We gather at the departure point and are immediately yelled at by various drivers with the destination TARABUCO — that's the usual way — and before we know it, Kathrin and I end up sitting in the front next to the driver, while Sebastian is assigned one of the back seats. Our driver is a tanned, very lively older gentleman who finds it amusing that two Gringos are sitting next to him. He can also perform great tricks, which he demonstrates to us: he can dislocate his thumb joints and wipe his mouth with the hem of his pants. Amazing. Off we go. While he constantly babbles to us and we understand nothing (to his amusement and that of the local passengers), he stuffs one coca leaf after another into his cheek, and the whole car smells of coca. Is that why he's in such a good mood? He also has a great time challenging all the other drivers and organizing small races. We feel slightly nauseous from the smell of coca and hope to arrive in one piece. Maybe we'll take a different Colectivo back. The market in Tarabuco is beautifully colorful, but we don't see many new ponchos or alpaca sweaters here. We have lunch in a small restaurant with a traditional dance performance and clapping along. Strengthened, we start the return journey, fortunately in a different Colectivo.
The next morning, we finally part ways. We head to Uyuni, and Kathrin goes to the airport.
See you soon in the Rhineland!