Filadelfia and Loma Plata were the last pieces of Paraguay for me before Bolivia, and were truly a surreal experience to have in South America. After leaving the small town of Puerto Casado, a place with only sporadic running water (6-8am, 5:30-9pm), we arrived in a bustling city filled with blond-haired, blue-eyed Germans. To make it even crazier, we ran into the only person we knew in the town, 2 minutes after getting off the bus in Loma Plata. This man became our tour guide for the city, and we enjoyed a few terere sessions with him.
The most interesting part about these areas is the social commune the members have formed. They are Mennonites displaced from various regions (primarily Canada for Loma Plata and Russia for Filadelfia). When they arrived in Paraguay, the government gave them a section of essentially desert that appeared unfarmable. In the tradition of hard work, they built their community up, realizing that working together was the only way to survive. They have now a central "collective", with 10% of each person's salary going towards everything that is required; roads, health care, schools, etc. These two communities, especially Loma Plata, are easily the most built up part of Paraguay we experienced.
Anyways, after some small adventures primarily involving terere or the GIANT supermarket, we got on a bus and crossed into Bolivia. The borders were incredibly efficient, even in Bolivia where I needed to file for and purchase a Visa, but were what you would expect after traveling on a dirt road for 6 hours, with another 8 to go. This crossing, perhaps between the two poorest countries in South America, is marked by open air migration offices and dilapidated buildings.
Santa Cruz was the first city in Bolivia for us, and it also happens to be the richest. Vegan restaurants satisfied my travel buddy, and we used the cities opulence as a chance to do laundry, Internet, and recharge. We showed up on a holiday weekend (we still don't know what for, but it involves early morning fireworks), so everything was closed. Most of our time was spent in the plaza, reading and challenging the locals to chess. Samaipata was next, and is where I currently am.
The region of Samaipata is known for its opportunities for jungle trekking and waterfalls. We did a little of everything, with various adventures followed always by a siesta. The first was El Fuerte, a pre-Incan (they believe) establishment on a hill overlooking the valley. The Incans were simply the last indigenous people in the region, and gained fame because they "greeted" the Spanish upon arrival; there were many peoples before the Incans with comparable wealth and this Fort is proof positive of that.
The next adventure, yesterday's adventure, was a series of waterfalls. It is sad, what happens when you travel; I have grown callous towards new places. I mean seriously, I couldn't even swim at this waterfall. It still, however, was beautiful and was enjoyed in the presence of an English couple, a Swiss, an Israeli couple, and us two Statesman. This same group enjoyed drinks later, with the addition of a few more nations.
Today I head to Sucre, but don't know how long I will spend there. I am running out of time. I have the rest of Bolivia, Peru (though I have narrowed it down to simply the Cuzco region), Northern Chile, and Santiago in one month!! I have had too much fun for too much time at each new place I visit.
Somethings Interesting
--Supposedly there is a lost city, similar to Machu Pichu, believed to be somewhere in Bolivia. It is overgrown and unviewable by air, leaving it still undiscovered (thus the lost city title).
--They have estimated that there are more uncontacted tribes in the Amazon Basin than everywhere else in the world put together. It was news to me that uncontacted tribes still exist.
--I am growing tired. Every day is a something completely new, and that is amazing. I miss, however, regularity. If this trip were longer, and I wish it was, I would settle down in a city for at least a month, if for no other reason than to have a few days which were the same. Most likely, Puerto Varas, Chile, or anywhere in Paraguay.
Showing posts with label Puerto Casado. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Puerto Casado. Show all posts
05 May 2010
29 April 2010
Another Boat and a Homestay in Paraguay
Finally, after four days of waiting, the boat came to Vallemi. This is the main and transport for the area and the only (we discovered) when it rains. It was the Aquidaban, a larger, double decker boat than our first, similarly loaded down with everything from fruits, to live chickens, to furniture.
We had two nights and a very lazy day in which we traveled up the river. One night, we saw a lightning storm and were dually impressed until we realized that it was dumping on the very roads we needed. Sights of note along the boat trip include a very beautiful but modernly out of place church, the Alto Paraguay state capital of Fuerte Olimpo, and other, nicer riverboats we guessed from Brazil.
Arriving in Bahia Negra, brought us immediately in contact with Amilcar. We asked him where the bus station was and he ended up giving us a ride for about 200km, hosting us for four nights in the house of his family, and then giving us a gift when we left. I am telling you, Paraguayan hospitality is borderline painful.
We left Bahia Negra in the late afternoon loaded with our stuff in the back of Amilcar's pickup, after hanging with some Peace Corps colunteers during siesta. The cab was full, so we took the first four hours in the bed at the mercy of his impeccable driving. He maintained a solid 40 mph on a dangerously muddy road, spending more time fishtailing than not. It was an experience I am glad I have, though would not repeat.
After dropping us at a small dispensa in Toro Pompa (basically a grocery store for the smaller villages), he promised to return that night and take us the rest of the way. We sat down to dinner of delicious wild boar with a family there, and played with their one month old puppy. Amilcar failed to return that night, so we slept in various jimmy-rigged cots and hammocks, and woke up to more meals with the family.
When we finally left (Amilcar had gotten stuck about 15 minutes outside of town the night before), the family refused payment and gave us wishes of good luck in our travels. Finally able to enjoy the drive, rather than fear for our lives, we witnessed an incredible amount of birds; emu-like runners, large raptors, huge storks, smaller green ones, a giant brown one which made a noise like a cow, etc.
Arriving in Amilcar's hometown of Puerto Casado, we began the search which would last four days for a ride out of town. His family insisted on taking us in, and consisted of his mother, 11yo daughter, 10yo son, and an adopted 18yo. During our four day stay with the family where we were given food and drink, we caught a baby chick with the 11yo to feel how soft its feathers were, went adventuring in an abandoned factory with the 18yo, let the 10yo show me off to his friends at night in the adjoining plaza, and helped the mother with her cake-making job (though mainly in an eating-leftovers capacity).
When we finally left after giving the family a collection of gifts and food, we took the bus to Loma Plata. It is a German, Socialist Community, one of three in the area, and will probably have to wait for another blog post to receive the description it deserves. Right now I am in Filadelfia (one of the other two communities) and am about to get on a bus to Bolivia.
Somethings Interesting:
--Amilcar is actually a driver for the governor of Alto Paraguay, who we met because he owns a store in Puerto Casado. Driving on muddy dirt roads is the only way to get around besides the weekly boat, and because of his job, we could not have chosen a better person to ask for directions than Amilcar.
--My travel partner and I both recently finished 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. We decided that Puerto Casado is actually Macondo from the book, and that our hostess is actually Ursula. We were simply one of the many visitors received throughout the story.
--Puerto Casado was actually the place where I helped unload the boat on our first trip (see two blog posts back). While in the town, people would frequently shout-out to me "Fuerte, Fuerte!!", the name they had given to me that night.
--It has been surreal to be in a city of blond-haired, blue-eyed people who speak mainly German in Central Paraguay. We still somehow manage to stick out and continue to be stared at openly. While sitting here, for example, the clerk took a picture of me.
We had two nights and a very lazy day in which we traveled up the river. One night, we saw a lightning storm and were dually impressed until we realized that it was dumping on the very roads we needed. Sights of note along the boat trip include a very beautiful but modernly out of place church, the Alto Paraguay state capital of Fuerte Olimpo, and other, nicer riverboats we guessed from Brazil.
Arriving in Bahia Negra, brought us immediately in contact with Amilcar. We asked him where the bus station was and he ended up giving us a ride for about 200km, hosting us for four nights in the house of his family, and then giving us a gift when we left. I am telling you, Paraguayan hospitality is borderline painful.
We left Bahia Negra in the late afternoon loaded with our stuff in the back of Amilcar's pickup, after hanging with some Peace Corps colunteers during siesta. The cab was full, so we took the first four hours in the bed at the mercy of his impeccable driving. He maintained a solid 40 mph on a dangerously muddy road, spending more time fishtailing than not. It was an experience I am glad I have, though would not repeat.
After dropping us at a small dispensa in Toro Pompa (basically a grocery store for the smaller villages), he promised to return that night and take us the rest of the way. We sat down to dinner of delicious wild boar with a family there, and played with their one month old puppy. Amilcar failed to return that night, so we slept in various jimmy-rigged cots and hammocks, and woke up to more meals with the family.
When we finally left (Amilcar had gotten stuck about 15 minutes outside of town the night before), the family refused payment and gave us wishes of good luck in our travels. Finally able to enjoy the drive, rather than fear for our lives, we witnessed an incredible amount of birds; emu-like runners, large raptors, huge storks, smaller green ones, a giant brown one which made a noise like a cow, etc.
Arriving in Amilcar's hometown of Puerto Casado, we began the search which would last four days for a ride out of town. His family insisted on taking us in, and consisted of his mother, 11yo daughter, 10yo son, and an adopted 18yo. During our four day stay with the family where we were given food and drink, we caught a baby chick with the 11yo to feel how soft its feathers were, went adventuring in an abandoned factory with the 18yo, let the 10yo show me off to his friends at night in the adjoining plaza, and helped the mother with her cake-making job (though mainly in an eating-leftovers capacity).
When we finally left after giving the family a collection of gifts and food, we took the bus to Loma Plata. It is a German, Socialist Community, one of three in the area, and will probably have to wait for another blog post to receive the description it deserves. Right now I am in Filadelfia (one of the other two communities) and am about to get on a bus to Bolivia.
Somethings Interesting:
--Amilcar is actually a driver for the governor of Alto Paraguay, who we met because he owns a store in Puerto Casado. Driving on muddy dirt roads is the only way to get around besides the weekly boat, and because of his job, we could not have chosen a better person to ask for directions than Amilcar.
--My travel partner and I both recently finished 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. We decided that Puerto Casado is actually Macondo from the book, and that our hostess is actually Ursula. We were simply one of the many visitors received throughout the story.
--Puerto Casado was actually the place where I helped unload the boat on our first trip (see two blog posts back). While in the town, people would frequently shout-out to me "Fuerte, Fuerte!!", the name they had given to me that night.
--It has been surreal to be in a city of blond-haired, blue-eyed people who speak mainly German in Central Paraguay. We still somehow manage to stick out and continue to be stared at openly. While sitting here, for example, the clerk took a picture of me.
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